#from kix's point of view

[margindoodles2407]

wippity woppity your attention span is now my property

(i'm getting desperate okay. there are only so many silly jokes i can make)

@seeking-elsewhither

Fives's eyes are wide, wider than normal, and his footfall is stumbling and his speech is beginning to slur, but it's not until he buckles forward and grabs him by the shoulders that Kix finally notices--

Oh. Oh, by the Sea. He's missing a finger.

Oh, stars above. He's not wearing his ring.

Oh, Bright Force. 

He's dying. 

"Fives," he gasps. Horrified. "You're not- your ring-"

"I know. I took it off. Had to-- had'ta cut it off, actually."

"Fives, you'll die!" He takes his brother's mangled, still-bleeding hand in his own two, oh so gently, but Fives simply pulls it away and raises it in a gesture of *stop*. 

"No. No, I'm not gonna... no, I won't die." He makes a face. "Well. Okay. I might die. But not cause'a the ring. I was poisoned. Neurotoxin. In my tea." He takes a shuddering breath and collapses again, pressing his flushed face into the crook of Kix's neck for a brief moment of respite from what must be a throbbing headache. He comes up again almost instantly. "Not... important right now. Kix, we're being deceived."

There is an urgency in his tone, a desperation in his eyes, and it scares Kix. Deeply. His brother, his vod-- his frater-- he's normally so level-headed. So straightforward. So clear and calm and composed. 

What could have possibly done this to the unflappable ARC Legionary?

"Frater meus, what do you mean?" he murmurs, resting a cool (bloody) hand against Fives's cheek. (He starts to lean into it but forces his eyes open and pulls away.) 

"Kix. Please. Listen to me. I don't... have the time to explain it right, right now." He takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and takes a few stumbling steps back. "But I promise, I'll tell you everything, when- when I'm better. I need you to do something for me, though. Please, Kix, if you've ever loved me, or any of our brothers. I need you to contact the Captain. General Skywalker, too, if you can. 'S an abandoned... tavern. Lower levels of the Island. Tell them to meet me there." He's halfway to the door already.

"Wait," Kix half-pleads, and Fives stops. "Wait. You said you were poisoned. Please, Fives, I'll talk to the Captain, but come with me back to the barracks. I'm sure I have an antidote somewhere, and you're clearly not--"

"Kix." His slurring is getting worse by the second, but his voice is gentle and warm and sad. "There's no time. I can't stay much longer; the High King put a bounty on my head and I'm sure the Guard are all over the Island looking for me. This tavern's probably one of the first places they'll search. And, Kix, frater, vod, you didn't come to the bar to play doctor. But I promise you, as soon as I've relayed my message to the Captain, you can give me the antidote and fix up my finger and do anything you feel the need to do to make me better."

There are tears in Kix's eyes that he knows he has no time to shed. He just wants to help. 

He knows that, right now, there's only one way he can.

"Okay. But please, Fives. Don't die before then."

His plea earns him a sad, tired smile. "Promitto." I swear it. 

He falters away again. Shakes his head to reorient himself and heads for the door. 

The stump of his finger is still dripping blood.

[darth-kote]

Fives headcanons Pt. 1

Makes a point of learning how to say simple phrases in a few different languages native to the places he visits as a soldier. He finds that the native civilizations usually take more kindly to someone who isn't barking at them in a foreign, confusing tongue. "Hello," "thank you," and "we are here to offer help," are a few he tries to memorize as they travel through hyperspace. Fives isn't motivated by anything other than making the civilians more comfortable... But when he's given fruit or flowers as thanks for his friendliness, he makes sure his brothers get a clear view of the gifts. "See, diplomacy does pay off, Hardcase." (He receives a scoff and an envious glares in return.)

Back on Kamino, Shaak Ti had instilled in him that his brothers were there for him, and he had a duty to reciprocate that. As time went, it became less his duty and more his heart's desire. It made him feel nauseous when he heard a raucous laugh fall from Echo's or Kix's lips, mostly because it was his own laughter amplified and externally sourced. He remembers the first time going to 79s with some of the 501st, not long after Rishi Moon; Rex had introduced him to some of his men, and it had been one of the first times since he'd been on Kamino that he'd felt completely safe. Looking around, it was rare to meet eyes with anyone's who weren't his own, and kriff, the laughter. It had filled him with such a sense of belonging that he'd had to go cry in the fresher, just for a moment. When he'd returned to the group, Echo had given him a knowing look – eyes gentle as always, the inkling of a smile on his lips; he'd felt it too. After everything with Domino Squad, Fives was reluctant to build from the rubble of his past, but he found it was more agonizing to cut himself off from their unconditional love.

Fascinated by braids. The first time he saw them, ever, was on a desert planet they had been stationed on for months during the war. This planet couldn't have been further from his water-covered homeworld, the people included. Their complexions ranged from a deep-copper red to a blue that was nearly purple in hue, and their hair was sculpted into intricate braids that he never stopped admiring for as long as they were there. After several weeks of hesitating, he finally asked if he could learn the community's art form. He had been afraid of rejection, and bade his breath as he awaited the Elderwoman's decision whether or not to let this strange man into their traditions. He knew this was something the people of this world held dearly, and he was prepared to take no as his answer. Watching would suffice. However, when the Elderwoman sent for himself and Tup, he allowed himself some hope. Entering her clay fortress had been even more wonderful than he'd imagined; breads and meat were offered to them, and Tup, for once, could admit that Fives was quite the diplomat. Meeting the Elderwoman face-to-face was comparable, he felt, to being in the presence of Shaak Ti – she was a master with plenty to teach to those she deemed worthy of the knowledge. Her hair had been down, rather than up in one of the various styles he'd seen her wearing from afar; the texture of her hair created a halo around her, and Fives had been in utter awe. He and Tup had been instructed to sit and watch as the Elder's handmaidens wove her hair, slowly, carefully, into the desired shapes and patterns. Although they were not allowed to touch, Fives learned through observation how these sculptures that had caught his eye since the beginning were created. As they'd watched, he practically begged Tup to take his hair down so that he might practice a simpler technique they were being shown, and Tup would never admit that he'd dozed off several times under his brother's diligent touch.

As much as he enjoys making his brothers a little jealous, Fives is such a softy for each and every one of them. He will go off and pick flowers for them, and he'll make sure to weave a crown or necklace for Rex to wear. I can imagine them all sweeping through a field of tall grass, and Fives is in the middle of everything.. collecting flowers for his brothers to wear and smell. They'd all have their favorite spot in their armor for their flower to be kept, of course.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.6 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

The Gorge

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DN

Airbase. 

That’s the priority. That's why the 501st had retreated away from the capital. 

A fucking airbase.

You could see it in the distance from where you were. The tall tower was clearly marked by a bright pillar of light that reached towards the clouds.

As Fives, Krell and Rex inspected the area on a cliffside, you and Kix weaved around the men, treating any injuries you saw. Sadly, painkillers were getting to low levels, so you decided to use them for the truly brutal wounds. For those you had to deem were suffering beyond comprehension.

You regretted using them on yourself. 

But, everyone else…well, they were big boys. They just had to handle it. Judging by the uninterested look that Hardcase had while Kix stitched up his shoulder, you were confident that the men weren’t going to complain. 

Your gaze swept over the battalion. The dark, tentacle-like trees had fanned out from the jungle, allowing an easier view of the soldiers. You counted the silhouettes, their white and blue armor stark against the ash colored ground. 

By the end you were right. A majority of the battalion had been injured in some way. Wounds were expected. But this many…It was getting hard to keep up, and judging by the way Kix swayed slightly when he stood, he was feeling the same thing.

“Alright men, we’re splitting the battalion,” Rex called, getting everyone at attention, “Half of you will remain here. The other half, follow me down to the gorge.”

You sighed and watched them go. Your tired steps were about to go to your medical speeder, but Krell halted you, “Doctor, you will be going with them.” He stepped between you and your goal, which was to resupply.

“Respectfully, sir,” you looked up into his small yellow eyes, “I think it would be better if I remained here and-.”

“My orders are for you to go with the platoons down to the gorge.” the besalisk crossed two of his four arms, surprisingly, he wasn’t yelling at you. Instead, his tone was icy and yet uninterested, “I’ve seen how you are during battle, and your expertise is wasted as a backline medic. You will be with the men on the front.”

You blinked and nodded. Was that a compliment? 

“Understood, sir.” you saluted with your uninjured arm and followed the platoon. At this point, arguing with him about your training would only result in a bad outcome.

You found your position next to Kix, who looked very unhappy to see you, “please don’t tell me…” 

“He complimented me,” you gave a sarcastic smile, “Said my expertise was wasted by not being on the front.”

Before Kix could respond, Rex began to speak, getting all the attention onto him, “Alright listen up!” His voice held authority with every word, “We’ll assemble the squads into two divisions. We’ll move straight up this gorge to the airbase on the far side.”

The medic beside you snapped, “The casualties are going to be high!” 

Tup scoffed, “Is Krell trying to get us killed!?”

“You know, I wasn’t sure that Krell was crazy before.” Jesse snarled, helmet in his hand. He practically glared at Rex as he continued, “But now, I’m positive!”

“We had to retreat from the capital because the general pushed a flawed strategy!” It was Fives’ turn to argue, “Now this?”

Hardcase raised his heavy weapon, “I don’t know! Could be fun.”

“Well, I, for one, agree with the general's plan.” Dogma chimed in, seeming much more confident than anyone else. 

“What plan?” You turned to face him, “Blindly rushing into the unknown without a care for the costs isn’t a plan!” Your words might’ve struck Rex, truthfully, you couldn’t look at him to find out. 

You had all the faith in him. You just had no faith in Krell or his tactics. But arguing would seem like you were against your lover and not the temporary General.

“We are running out of time and this is the best option!”

Jesse spoke up again, royally pissed, “No recon? No air support? We don’t know what we’re up against!” He waved his helmet in the air in frustration, “They have weapons we’ve never seen before!” To punctuate his point, he tapped his helmet to his head a couple of times. 

The 501st captain stepped forward, attempting to reason with everyone, “A few of General Skywalker’s plans seemed reckless too, but they worked.”

His words did little to ease the rising tempers, “Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front not bringing up the rear like General Krell!” Fives stepped towards Rex, riling up everyone else, “A full frontal assault would leave us too exposed!”

The other men rose up in dissatisfied chatter. They were clearly unhappy with the plan.

“We have to look at other options!”

“It's going to be a meat grinder!”

Rex sighed, frustration clear, “Fives.” He commanded the ARC trooper to follow. The two stepped away, out of earshot. 

“What supplies do we have?” Kix turned to face you, “This…is going to be difficult.”

Wordlessly you took off your pack and knelt to go through the packs you carried. Luckily the both of you stocked up as well as you could from everything on the medical speeder. But it never hurts to check. 

Bandages and bacta were the most needed, and hopefully, you had enough to see this through.

You attempted to get your pack back on by lifting it with your bad arm, only to drop it and hiss in pain. 

“Damnit.” you swallowed, feeling the very bone pulse in agony. It’s only been a few hours since you were shot. Your arm was nowhere near healed. 

Kix put a hand on your uninjured shoulder to hold you steady, “Take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, adjusting your pack, “The men have survived worse than this. How would it look if I burst into tears every time I get hurt?” 

“Nearly getting your arm blasted off isn’t just ‘getting hurt’. If you need a break, the others will understand.” He argued softly.

You shook your head, “And what about you? You’ve been unsteady on your feet from exhaustion for hours and yet you still run around helping those who are wounded.”

“Only because you’ve been taking a majority of them.” Kix responded, though he didn’t argue with your point. 

“Are you two done?” Dogma snapped from his position, “We’re about to start moving.”

“Hey, Dogma, have you considered shutting the fuck up?” An ARF trooper, Jumper, leaned forward on his AT-RT to silence the ground soldier, “How about you don’t pick a fight with the two people keeping all of us alive.”

“Hey-!”

“Everyone, enough.” Jesse finally stepped in to get everyone quiet, “Now is not the time or the place.” A mere minute later instructions were given. 

You’d go with Rex and his half of the platoon. Kix would go with Fives and Hardcase and their half. 

Splitting up…wonderful idea. There’s no way that could ever go wrong. 

You hung back, keeping your position behind a majority of the men. Noct and Nax, however, were walking on either side of you. As if they were intending to guard you from threats. Your nod to them was in appreciation as both platoons marched forward slowly and carefully. 

Three of those flying beasts that attacked on the main road flew overhead. They didn’t make a dive or move towards anyone on the ground. Instead, you’d think they were fleeing something.

A rapidly approaching rumble cut off your thoughts. The ground was shaking, and it was only getting worse. Nax grabbed your wrist to keep you steady as the vibrations got stronger and louder. Even the AT-RT’s were unstable from the sheer power of the sway.

You raised your comm and began to speak, “Kix, what is going-.”

In the distance, you heard the commotion. Shouting. Booms. It sounded like something was…howling? 

Everything around you was shaking violently, and Kix finally responded, “We’re under attack!”

Without wait, Rex diverted off the original path to aid his brothers. You all ran as quickly as you could despite the dark, dense plant life that hindered your movements. Once you made it over the ridge, you paused, taking in the battle.

Chaos. Chaos and mayhem. At the center of it all, was a tank in the shape of a centipede, marked with blue lights. It roared before slamming down, killing all soldiers under its massive body. 

“Get those rocket launchers down there! Move it troopers!” Rex commanded, pistols in hand and immediately running to aid the soldiers.

The blaster guns that ran down the centipede tanks back were firing in all directions, making it difficult to maneuver or navigate. Still, you managed to get close enough while remaining behind the cover of a massive tree and its roots.

One of the green shots hit Jumper’s AT-RT, killing him in a burst of neon flames.

Another name to your list.

“Watch out!” The ARF trooper next to you called as another tank shot up from the ground. He was hit almost instantly, knocking down from his vehicle. immediately your hands were on him and dragging him behind cover. 

“I got you, Dia.” you reassured, pulling off his helmet.

Pupils uneven. Head injury. Concussion. Watch for seizures or signs of stroke. Traumatic brain injuries were difficult to deal with in such a chaotic environment, but you did what you could with the supplies you have. 

One of the tanks swung its massive head, slamming into one of the troopers that had a much needed rocket launcher. He hit the ground, but curled his body to protect the precious weapon. Once the Umbaran tank turned to continue its destruction, Kix leapt out from the black and red foliage. Thank whatever gods decided to keep him alive!

He grabbed the trooper just as Hardcase got the rocket launcher. You rushed out to join him, taking hold of one of the troopers shoulders, “Follow me!” You shouted, leading the medic to your position of cover hidden in the dense trees. When you returned, there were already several more injured that were taking refuge.

Behind you, there was another explosion. The now headless tank roared before it melted into a screech. Its massive silver and blue body twisted and spasmed as every section burst into flames and destruction. You spotted Fives and Hardcase sprinting to avoid getting hit by its thrashing legs.

Rex called out, tone commanding yet anxious, “Everyone regroup, now! Take cover!” 

The platoons scattered, fleeing into the dark and foggy forest. Luckily the thick trunks and roots of the red, glowing trees were condensed enough the tanks couldn’t push through. 

“Move it! Move it!”

“Let's go!”

“Go! Go! Go!”

You swallowed and looked up at Rex. He was breathing heavily, but still standing. However, you didn’t miss the blood on his wrist. 

You reached into a small pack on your thigh and took out clean bandages as you approached. He would always opt for bandages and not bacta. At every battle, if he got hurt, he’d reject the medicine, saying ‘save it for the next soldier you treat.’ So you’ve learned to just accept his selflessness and use standard first-aid supplies if the wounds weren’t so bad.

“We’re safe for the moment, but they’ll be coming around any second,” He continued to lead the men, not stopping even when you grabbed his wrist and began to bandage it up, “Bring up the launchers, spread detonators along that corridor. Trap them in the bottleneck.” The captain nodded in appreciation once you finished your work. He continued, “We’re going to blow those things sky high.”

Fives rushed past you to a soldier, Hana, who carried explosives in a large pack. He grabbed several of the bombs before running with the other to the narrow part of the gorge. Several others followed the ARC trooper. 

You remained with the injured, just like Kix. Your focus was on the trooper, Hek, in your arms working to stem the bleeding on his chest. However, no matter what you tried, he slipped away under your hands.

Hek. One more death to blame on Krell.

Your priority shifted to Silk, who had sat down and waited patiently with a bleeding, smoldering neck and shoulder wound. Either he was the most patient man in existence, or mentally gone. It didn’t matter though, because you began to patch him up, using whatever you could to save him.

After a few moments, the ground shook violently again, causing you to hold him close to your chest to protect. From the direction of where the men placed bombs, you heard the booms and crackles of their explosives detonating. The tanks they destroyed howled and wailed as it sounded like they crashed into one another, ripping each other apart.

Soldiers had run back to your position to take cover from the resulting explosions. Hardcase dove to your right, getting behind the massive root protecting everyone from the fire. Rex, who was thrown from the force of the bombs, landed on his front right next to you and Silk. Fives and Jesse stumbled, also hitting the dirt after getting shoved by the burst of heat and flames. 

It was a few seconds later when your ears were blessed with silence. Seemed everyone was waiting for…something. Another attack? Or just appreciating the brief moment of calm.

The captain got onto one knee, turned his head to you, and his shoulders slumped slightly with relief, “Good job.” he stood, addressing his men, “Be ready to move out in five.”

Five minutes to rest.

Hardly enough time for you and Kix to tend to all those that were sporting injuries, but you could at least handle the more serious cases. And in those five minutes, despite your best efforts….

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo.

You added a few more names to the list of the dead.

[superlarva]

Modern AU kid Domino Squad! Cutup (back left), Hevy (back right), Fives (front left), Droidbait (front middle), Echo (front right). I felt the need to make them all look different since quintuplets would be a bit out of place in a modern AU, so Cutup, Hevy, and Droidbait are adopted.

Okay, I know it's been a few weeks, but I promise I'm still here and still working on Raising Dominoes. Life's just been super busy and I had to put in extra hours at the lab these past few weekends.

Anyways, here is Chapter 11 - Memories. And on a Saturday, not a Sunday! :)

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 10

Summary: Rex battles guilt and Echo recalls the events leading up to his hospitalization.

CW: Child abuse, death, death of children, guilt, missing limbs, hospitals, explosions. Heed the warnings on this one, friends. It's not a fun time for the boys.

Chapter 11 - Memories

Rex woke from an uncomfortable sleep as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the hospital room. He had not had the heart to separate the twins while they were sleeping, so he had hunkered down in the chair by the boy’s bedside for the night. Now his neck and back ached and he had pins and needles in his legs.

A quick look at the boys and he could see they were still sleeping. In the night they had drifted away from each other. Fives was now sprawled out on the bed, lying on his stomach like a starfish, leaving Echo a tiny sliver of space, and even that was invaded by Fives’s elbow.

Rex smiled to himself and gently moved Fives’s arm to his side so the boy would not accidentally take out one of his brother’s eyes. Luckily the kid was out cold and did not stir at his touch.

Now that he was up, Rex stretched and lazily strolled across the room to the window. Cody would have loved the view. The sun peaked between skyscrapers, casting the streets below in harsh shadows and warm light. From the way the whole city was bathed in orange it looked like a mild autumn morning despite the frigid temperatures Rex knew were on the other side of the glass.

He did not know how long he stood there, staring out the window and watching the cars march by in the lines of morning traffic like ants. He let his mind wander freely, enjoying the peaceful quiet of dawn. His brain had been working in overdrive constantly the past four days, always worried or planning. It felt nice to turn it off for a few seconds, doing a hard reboot and getting himself back on track.

Eventually the sound of the door opening caught Rex’s attention. Kix nodded to him from the doorway and strode over to the bed to change out Echo’s med bag.

“Hey,” Rex called softly, abandoning his post by the window and moving to stand beside the doctor. “Shouldn’t you be at home? It’s Saturday.”

Kix shrugged, focused on checking up on Echo, “I guess I picked up an extra shift.”

“What about Dogma and Tup?”

“Jesse’s got them,” Kix shrugged again, his tone nonchalant. He scrawled something quickly on his clipboard and then turned to Rex and nodded to the door, “Let’s talk outside.”

Rex followed Kix outside Echo’s room without complaint, and sat when Kix motioned to a bench in the hallway.

Kix sat next to him, sighing heavily, and running a hand through his intricate buzzcut, “Echo’s doing really well. Even better since you and Fives arrived.”

Rex nodded.

“If everything continues to go well, we should be able to discharge him this Wednesday. We have to ween him off the meds and make sure he won’t be in too much pain when you take him home. At this point, that’s really all he’s here for. The medication, sterile environment, and so that we can monitor the healing process.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

Kix smiled, leaning back, and resting his head against the wall, “That’s one resilient kid you got, Rex. It’ll take time, but he’ll be alright.”

“Good…” Rex trailed off his mind already whizzing over a million different questions. What if he was not? What if he healed physically, but could not mentally or emotionally? What if he hated him? What if he’d never be able to gain the kid’s trust? What if-

“Rex,” Kix laid a hand on Rex’s violently bouncing knee, and Rex instinctively jerked away from the touch. Kix frowned, retracting his arm, “More importantly, are you going to be alright?”

“‘More importantly?’” Rex scoffed. He turned his head away from Kix, choosing to focus on the checkered floor pattern instead. Echo was the one in the hospital, not him.

“Yeah, ‘more importantly,’” Kix hunched over, bracing his elbows on his knees before lowering his voice and continuing, “Listen to me, Rex. I don’t know a lot about what those boys have gone through, but if it’s anything half as bad as my boys—and I’m confident it’s worse—you’re going to need to be strong for them.”

Kix’s eyes flicked over to Rex to ensure his friend was still paying attention, “You’re going to have to show them they can trust you over and over and over again. And once you think they finally do, you’re going to do something that’s going to mess it all up. You’re going to have to start from square one.”

Rex was about to interject, but Kix held up a hand, “Listen, I’m telling you this because I want you to be prepared. I want this to end well. For that to happen, you need to show them how to be strong and learn to trust again. You won’t be able to do that if you let yourself get overwhelmed.”

“I-” Rex stuttered, voice caught in his throat, leg bouncing erratically again. He shook his head as if to shake unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

“Please don’t live in the past, Rex. Please. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want that for your boys.”

Rex turned to Kix, eyes full of desperation, “How? How can I not live in the past? Look at what she did to them! Look at what I did to them! I should have been there. If I had been there-”

Rex broke off, hands trembling in his lap, a pained smile stretching across his face.

“You have to understand it’s not your fault. I know that’s hard, but what happened to them is not your fault. It’s not.”

Kix paused for a second, letting Rex meet his eyes before continuing, “What will happen to them will be. So, let’s make sure that it’s your fault that they smile. That they laugh and play and miss you when you’re gone. Make sure it’s your fault they’re happy.”

Rex shook his head, “And if I can’t?”

“You can. I know you can. And Cody and I will always be here to help, okay?”

Rex shrugged.

Kix nudged him in the arm, a slight smile spreading up the corners of his mouth, “Heck, even Jesse wants to help out. He’s been complaining that he’s the only one that hasn’t met them yet.”

Rex let out a clipped chuckle at the idea of his twins meeting Kix’s younger brother, “Yeah, okay.”

Echo woke to an aching pain coursing through his body and a familiar white light as he blinked himself awake. He must have overdone it during training yesterday. Must have hit his head too with the way it pounded.

He could feel the warmth of Fives’s body next to his left side just like every morning, but the space on the cot to his right was cold and empty. Where was Droidbait?

Echo reached out to feel for his younger brother but retracted his arm when all he found was a fistful of air.

Gone.

The world pitched around Echo. He blinked trying to block out the blinding light and sinking feeling in his gut and focus. He felt sluggish and fuzzy like he had been sedated, but he could not remember doing anything wrong. No, if he had done something bad, he would be in isolation. It would be cold and dark, and Fives would not be beside him.

Then Droidbait must have been in isolation. What could his youngest brother have done? Why could he not remember?

His head, right. His head. He must have hit his head.

Echo reached over to Fives, about to shake his twin awake when he stopped, pulling back his arm as if it had been burned.

Something was not right.

The light was slowly turning from the intense white to a warm orange as his eyes adjusted. It looked like sunlight. But that could not be right. There were no windows in their room, just a single exposed bulb that’s harsh light reflected on the white floors and walls.

No. This was wrong.

Echo tried to sit up, tried to look for Droidbait, Hevy and Cutup as his eyes gradually focused on the room around him. Tried to make sense of the bed he was on and the machines surrounding him.

He could not. Could not sit up. Could not see his brothers.

Then he could not stop himself from remembering.

Remembering Hevy’s plan.

They were going to escape. Going to climb over the wall during their morning drills. He had thought it was a bad idea. Mom told them not to go near the citadel walls. She had warned them bad things would happen. Cutup said she was probably lying. He had said she would not be watching. Echo did not agree.

She was always watching.

Droidbait was scared. He had said over and over that he did not want to go. That he was afraid. That they would not make it over the wall. That she would find them even if they did.

As soon as the drill started Hevy had grabbed him. Dragged their youngest brother after him. Cutup had followed just behind, leaving Echo to wake up Fives.

Fives never woke to the alarm. Echo thought the flashing red lights and the incessant ringing would have been enough to wake a dead man, but Fives never so much as stirred. Echo had to shake him.

Fives had not been sure about Hevy’s plan either. He had said that even if they cleared the wall and made it down to the other side, what would they do next? Where would they go? But when the time came, he was on board. If Hevy and Cutup and Droidbait were doing it, so was he.

If Fives was doing it, so was Echo.

They had run down the hall and out through the normally bolted shut doors. The doors outside only opened during morning drill. Echo knew. This had not been the first time they had tried to escape.

By the time he and Fives had made it out into the yard, his adopted brothers were already scaling the wall. Cutup was nearly at the top and Hevy was helping Droidbait a few feet below.

No one had stopped them.

Fives ran to the wall. Echo followed.

They were doing this now.

No turning back.

About halfway up Echo heard the first explosion. He heard Droidbait screaming Cutup’s name. His voice had been laden with fear and grief. He heard Hevy yelling at Droidbait, begging him not to move. He heard Fives whimper quietly next to him.

When Echo pulled himself up onto the top of the wall he saw Hevy crouched next to Droidbait’s foot. He saw his youngest brother’s eyes wide with terror, staring at the place where the explosion had been. He saw the pile of rubble. He saw Cutup’s eyes staring blankly up at the sky from under the settling dust.

Hevy had turned to him and Fives and moved aside so they could see the dark olive cylinder resting under Droidbait’s foot. Droidbait stared at the rubble, repeating Cutup’s name over and over, his voice hollow and quiet.

Hevy had hesitated looking from their baby brother’s foot to his lost expression before turning back to the twins.

“You take him and you go,” Hevy had ordered.

Echo watched as he yanked the mine out from under Droidbait’s foot and curled his body over it in one fluid motion. He had been trying to stop the explosion from harming anyone but himself.

It had not worked.

Hevy was blown back towards the twins, a mess of blood and flesh. Droidbait was pushed backwards from the force and teetered on the edge of the wall.

Fives screamed and rushed forwards, reaching out a hand.

He had not been fast enough.

Droidbait fell.

Echo remembered the sound it made when his little brother hit the ground.

He doubted he would ever forget.

Echo did not remember much after that. He must have stepped on one of the mines as well, considering the state of his body. He looked over at his brother, making sure his brother really was as unharmed as he had seemed the day before.

Fives seemed fine, and Echo closed his eyes again to block out the too bright light before they flew open in surprise as the door to his room creaked open.

That man was standing there, the one who had brought Fives. The one named Rex. He looked like the other one—Cody—but with shorter blond hair instead of the longer dark curls that matched him and his brother.

Cody had come a lot to visit. Echo barely remembered much from the past few days, but it seemed every time he woke, he had been there, sitting at his bedside, quietly reading a book of some sort. He had thought Cody was his dad at first. It made sense, they looked just like each other, and why else would anyone take an interest in him.

When Echo had asked, Cody had smiled and said that his dad was taking care of Fives, that he was his uncle, that his dad’s name was Rex.

Rex.

His dad.

The guy had seemed nice enough yesterday, but Echo knew better than to believe his charade. Besides, Echo did not want a dad. He wanted his brothers back.

Echo must have let his face show too much disgust when Rex came into his view, as the man quickly rushed to his side, “Are you okay?”

Echo narrowed his eyes. Rex sounded like Fives any time Echo or one of their other brothers got hurt during drills. His voice was soft and gentle, even caring, and Echo was taken aback. It sounded genuine.

“Fine,” Echo mumbled, voice scratchy.

The man hovered awkwardly by the side of the bed for another moment before nodding and sitting slowly in the chair, “Your brother’s still sleeping, huh?”

Echo nodded, waiting for the command to wake his twin and rob him of a few more precious minutes of sleep.

It did not come.

Instead, Rex passed a small book to Echo, and pressed a finger to his lips, “We’ll have to be quiet, then.”

Echo watched as Rex took out a book of his own and flipped to a page in the middle, his head bowed as he read silently. The boy looked down at the book clutched in his hand. It appeared to be some sort of fiction book based on the colorful cover.

Echo snuck a glance at the blond man. He was still engrossed in his novel. The boy cautiously opened to the first page, chancing another look at Rex. Just because he was handed the book did not mean he was allowed to read it. The blond man looked up at the sound of the page crinkling, met his gaze for half a second, flashed a quick smile, and then went back to reading.

Echo followed suit.

Maybe his dad was not so bad.

Just maybe.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 13 (End)

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: Explicit, 18+

There was hope for them, after all.

AO3

Tech was awake.

Everything had looked promising too, right until Hunter and Crosshair had entered the medbay, and Tech’s gaze had landed on them. A vague curiosity was there, but… Hunter realized with a clench of his chest, no recognition.

He referred to them as CT-9901 and CT-9904, confirming what Hunter had already guessed. Tech knew who they were, but he didn’t know who they were to him.

Tech didn’t even know who he was, not really. He remembered what he had done as CX-2, as he referred to himself as, but nothing before his “activation.”

Despite that, his loyalty to the Empire, as well as his hostility toward them, had vanished. He even apologized for hunting them down, for taking Omega, and for grievously wounding Crosshair.

But everything he said was with a polite, distant tone. Tech had often been distant when he was distracted, but polite? It was… disturbing. By Crosshair’s alarmed expression, he thought so too.

In the end, they decided to move him back to Pabu. Kix thought the familiar settings would be helpful for memory recall as well as overall comfort, and “sunshine and fresh air wouldn’t hurt.” Hunter agreed, and with some new supplies and equipment coming with them to the infirmary on Pabu, along with AZI’s medical programming, they had everything they needed for Tech’s recovery.

Life on Pabu was different, but eerily the same. There was work as there always was, though now the focus was on repairing what the Empire had damaged and destroyed. But people still lived their lives as if an invasion hadn’t happened, and the island hadn’t really changed. But they had. Hunter especially.

There were huts separate from the infirmary meant for long-term patients, and Tech was moved to one that had a beautiful view of the ocean from his window. Hunter had hoped the island would open something within Tech’s memories, but he showed no sign of familiarity.

Hunter warned her beforehand that Tech probably wouldn’t remember her, but Phee still came to see him. Tech didn’t recognize her, but she still joked with him, something about better to be late than dead, and Hunter smiled a little, remembering those were the first words she’d ever said to them. Tech would have appreciated the irony.

If Hunter lingered at Tech’s side, whether he was in the medical bed or in the repulsorlift chair, then the others were worse. Wrecker and Omega were glued to Tech at most hours of the day, spending meals with him and playing various card and board games. Echo decided to stay on Pabu for an extended length of time, and he spent the nights in a hammock they strung up next to Tech’s bed. They found out Tech woke from nightmares, ones he couldn’t remember even upon waking, and none of them wanted to leave him alone at night after that. Echo knew how to deal with those from personal experience, and Hunter rested easier with him there.

Crosshair was a more silent companion, though he liked to go out on walks with Tech, and Hunter would sometimes accompany them. Other times, they “accidentally” ran into him while he was working at the dock, or while he was helping reinforce walls or houses—basically anything that involved hard labor and Hunter without his shirt.

Hunter would simply roll his eyes. He doubted Tech seeing him half-naked was going to help his memories return, but he wasn’t about to point that out. Not when those evenings generally ended with Crosshair jumping him as soon as he walked in the door.

There wasn’t a day that went by that Hunter didn’t silently thank Shep that he’d given Crosshair his own place. It would have been impossible to hide this from his brothers and Omega. Not that he was trying to hide their relationship—Hunter was still getting used to that word—but they hadn’t really talked about revealing it yet.

It was quite possible the secret wasn’t much of a secret. As soon as Hunter had come down from the cockpit of the Imperial shuttle after making Crosshair come not just once, but twice, Wrecker had grinned and sent him a thumbs up, while Rampart had grumbled about how much he hated clones.

And Echo hadn’t made any remarks when they’d told him Crosshair and Hunter shared a house, but the side glances he gave Hunter were almost scathing and accusatory. Hunter wasn’t brave enough to ask what he’d done to earn those looks.

Actually, Echo had a couple reasons why he might be a little annoyed at Hunter currently. After spending a few days on the medical station, Hunter had gotten a glimpse of Echo and his new shadow trailing after him.

“Looks like you got yourself an admirer,” Hunter had teased with a gentle elbow to the ribs.

“What?” Echo had asked, genuinely confused.

“You know, your doctor friend. Is she coming with us to Pabu? We have a spare bedroom if—”

That was about as far as Hunter got before Echo sent him a stare that countless droids had witnessed before their demise. It might have shut Hunter up, but he could still smirk about it.

And, genuinely, it was sweet the way Emerie followed him around with an earnest expression, always volunteering to help Echo with whatever he might be doing. And Echo might protest and huff, but Hunter didn’t imagine the way he softened around her.

Hunter’s only regret was sharing his thoughts with Crosshair on the situation. His devious, wolfish grin spoke only of terrible, horrible things in Hunter’s future. Namely, one pissed off ARC trooper.

They had split after that, the clones and children from Tantiss staying with Rex and the rebel clones, and the Batch returning to Pabu. Every single one of them.

Tech’s progress with his memories might have stalled, but his physical recovery was going well, and he’d gone from the hover chair to being able to venture out with the aid of a cane.

And Hunter started to come around more. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with Tech, he did. Even though he greeted Hunter with the same distant politeness he did with everyone else, without evidence of grudge or resentment, it still gnawed at him. More than once, Hunter woke Crosshair in the middle of the night with new nightmares, and some days when he looked at Tech, he could feel the weight of a spear in his hand.

There were moments, Hunter could have sworn, where glimpses of the old Tech shone through. Flashes of focus and clarity before they faded back into muddled, quiet confusion. One of those moments happened when they were alone, stopping to rest on one of their daily walks along the beach.

Tech leaned on his cane and gave Hunter a look that was familiar: a troubled frown.

“You are not to blame.”

Hunter just stared at him. They hadn’t done much talking so far, and they weren’t continuing a conversation that he could recall, but something in his stomach still tightened.

“The laboratory,” Tech clarified when Hunter remained silent. “Wounding me. You did what was necessary.”

“I—” Hunter choked. He’d known this would come up eventually, but he still wasn’t ready for it. “I… almost killed you.”

“Yes,” Tech remarked as evenly as a discussion about what was on for dinner. “An appropriate response, considering I was prepared to end your life.”

“That’s…”

“Not your fault,” Tech interjected evenly. “I may not remember our history, but I am not blind to how you look at me. You are the only one who still shows outward signs of guilt. Even CT-9904 has stopped giving me such wounded looks. But not you.”

Hunter wanted to dig into the sand under his feet, or maybe wade out into the water and let it pull him under.

Instead, he quietly said, “…I’m sorry. For more than just Tantiss.”

It was, after all, Hunter’s fault he’d fallen to begin with. Anything that happened to his squad, to his family, was on him.

Tech’s stare was thoughtful.

“If I say I forgave you, would this give you closure?”

Hunter didn’t know what to say. He’d been lost as soon as the conversation started, and he certainly didn’t know where it was going now.

“Well,” Tech said as if he’d answered, “I forgive you.”

Hunter still couldn’t speak, choking on regrets and apologies that wouldn’t move past his throat. Tech stared out at the ocean, and bit by bit, the lucidity faded. When next he turned to Hunter, his expression was mildly surprised behind his glasses. They hadn’t yet found a pair of goggles for him yet.

“Oh. Shall we continue our walk?”

And then he set off across the sand, not waiting for Hunter to catch up.

He was rattled, and of course, Crosshair noticed. He always did when Hunter was a little off, and this was more than a little. The bags under his eyes were prominent again, like they were when he and Wrecker had spent months chasing down leads to find Omega.

Hunter didn’t know what he would do now if Crosshair wasn’t there. His steadying presence reminded Hunter of when he’d jokingly said he could be the sergeant—though maybe he hadn’t been entirely joking. Crosshair had led a squad before. Even if it had been an Imperial one, he still had a knack for it, stepping up when Hunter had a day where he couldn’t do much more than sit quietly by Tech’s side.

Hunter never understood why Crosshair hadn’t volunteered as leader when they were cadets. He’d always been content to follow Hunter, at least until the chips were activated. Hunter knew if that hadn’t happened, Crosshair would have deserted with the rest of them without so much as a backwards glance.

So, of course, he took it upon himself to try and get Hunter out of his own head. And for some reason, he’d decided sex was the best way to do that.

And Maker, did it work. For the rest of the night, at least. Hunter slept best when he was too exhausted to think, his body heavy and warm from the flickering remains of pleasure, Crosshair curled against him.

But it only lasted until the morning, and sometimes not even then, as the nightmares were proving.

“Sorry,” Hunter mumbled one morning when neither of them had gotten much sleep. “If you need me to sleep somewhere else, I can—”

“No.”

“But, I keep waking you—”

“Don’t care.”

“I do.”

“That’s nice.”

Crosshair turned over and pressed close to Hunter, effectively stopping his objections by running fingers through his hair. Bastard was catching on to all the things that would make Hunter go speechless and pliant.

“I’ll find a way to get you properly relaxed.”

Hunter shivered. Coming from Crosshair, that sounded more threat than promise. And it was one he soon delivered.

Hunter had stayed out far too late again working on their most recent project. He didn’t know anything about rebuilding starships, especially ships that had been blown up, but they were lucky for two reasons. One, the skeletal frame of the Marauder had survived the explosions, giving them a strong structure to work with. And two, they had a ship expert at their disposal. This expert didn’t remember much of who he was or even the ship he was rebuilding, but with the Marauder’s original schematics dug out of Tech’s old files, his expertise was invaluable rebuilding what they had lost—and of course, no one had the heart to tell him exactly who blew up the ship to begin with.

Hunter was tired, sore, and coated in grime. The shower he took was perfunctory, and he didn’t do more than wrap a towel around his hips when he crawled into bed.

Crosshair wasn’t asleep. Nor was he wearing a stitch on him, and Hunter’s brain was sluggish to catch up. Hunter was practically boneless when Crosshair rolled him onto his back, his moan quiet when his brother nipped along his neck.

“Cross,” he protested weakly, and that was as far as he got before Crosshair kissed him, interrupting any further objections with a skilled tongue licking into his mouth.

Bastard.

When Crosshair finally let him come up for air, Hunter panted, “I won’t be the most considerate lover right now.”

Crosshair snorted.

“Lover? You’ve been spending too much time with the fishwives down at the dock. It’s bad enough Wrecker’s been borrowing their romance holovids.”

Hunter squirmed, face hot, and he huffed in frustration.

“What would you call us then?”

“Overdue for an orgasm. Now, roll over.”

“We just had sex this morning—….What?”

“You heard me. Give me your ass.”

That was… a little odd as far as sexual requests went, even coming from Crosshair, but Hunter didn’t see a reason not to. His cock had decided it was definitely interested, so he sighed and rolled over onto his stomach.

Crosshair yanked off his towel, ignored Hunter’s disgruntled “hey!” and pulled him up by the hips.

Hunter’s complaints died in his throat when Crosshair grabbed one of the pillows and slid it under his hips, and Hunter bit his lip when his cock rubbed against the soft material.

And then the rest of his tired brain caught up to the vulnerable position he was in.

“What… uh…”

“I told you,” Crosshair purred, “I would find a way to make you relax.”

After that unhelpful statement, Hunter was still lost as to what Crosshair wanted. He’d expected Crosshair to ride him, because that’s what he usually did when Hunter was too drained for much else. Of course, they’d discovered Crosshair using him like that drove Hunter particularly wild, and he didn’t remain a passive participant for long.

But whatever Crosshair had in mind now was not their usual pattern.

“And… what is that?”

There was movement behind him, and Hunter looked over his shoulder in time to catch Crosshair opening the bottle of lube and squeezing some onto his cock. With a small smirk and not an ounce of shyness, he stroked himself while Hunter watched.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Hunter��s eyes widened. He… was going to… Oh.

“That is,” Crosshair added, some of his confidence fading when Hunter remained quiet, “if you want.”

Hunter swallowed.

“I...”

Crosshair looked away, getting that pinched expression that meant he was on the verge of backing off and running.

“Or, we can do something else—”

“N-no, no,” Hunter blurted out before Crosshair decided to make a dash out the door. “I’m good with that. You, uh… you can…”

Crosshair’s brows rose higher with each word Hunter stumbled over. Hunter narrowed his eyes.

“Quit it.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re…”

Hunter made a vague gesture.

“Very eloquent, Hunter.”

“Just- fuck me if you’re gonna fuck me.”

Crosshair’s brows went as high as they possibly could, but then his gaze took on a hungry tilt.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Hunter shivered and turned back around so he was looking forward, resting his chin on his arms. Crosshair hadn’t even touched him yet and he wanted to squirm, his heart in his throat.

When a hand rested on the curve of his hip, Hunter jumped and released an unsteady breath.

“Twitchy,” Crosshair purred as he lifted his hand. And then Hunter jumped again when lube dribbled down the cleft of his ass, and Crosshair sighed. “I could get one of Tech’s sedatives—"

“No.”

“Then I suggest unclenching.”

When his fingers returned, they further smeared the lube, and Hunter shivered as they pressed between his cheeks. Not from the intrusion, Crosshair had done this a couple times to him before, but because it was damn cold.

“Kinda hard when you—nnghh.”

“Better.”

Hunter growled at the sneer in Crosshair’s tone, but then he buried his face in his arms as fingers prodded him open, sending pleasant warmth down his balls straight to his cock.

“Are you… mmn… gonna do it like this?”

“Problem?”

“N-no.” Hunter forced out the word, even though every twist of Crosshair’s fingers sent static through his head. “I just… wanna see your face.”

Crosshair let out a low laugh that was probably meant to be mocking, but it tickled down Hunter’s spine.

“Sweet. But for your first time, it’s wiser I’m out of biting distance.”

Hunter frowned.

“I won’t bite you.”

The laugh was definitely mocking this time, and he buried his face again, decidedly not thinking about why being mocked by Crosshair only made him harder.

“Gonna… make a mess of the pillow,” Hunter mumbled after a moment, though it was getting harder to talk with the way Crosshair’s fingers plied him open. He didn’t know what it was about this that made him so flustered. Hardly a day went by when they didn’t have sex, sometimes Hunter couldn’t get all the way through the door before Crosshair was yanking off his clothes, but this was different. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, or if it even mattered. He was doing it with Crosshair, and that was the thought that made his cock achingly hard and already weeping.

“Probably.” Crosshair sounded too occupied to care about the state of their bed, his fingers playing with Hunter in a way that felt less about prep and more about making him squirm and writhe.

Well, he was doing a good job of that.

“Cross,” Hunter definitely didn’t whine.

“Need to stretch you. You’ll thank me later.”

“Uh-huh. Like you always let me stretch you?”

“…That’s different.”

Right. Because it was fine when Crosshair took Hunter too fast, but Maker forbid Hunter try this without drowning in lube.

“Seriously, Crosshair,” he complained with a look over his shoulder. “I think I can taste it in my mouth.”

“That is generally where you taste things.”

If Crosshair was within striking distance he would have gotten a swat to the head, and Hunter was considering his kicking options when Crosshair finally removed his fingers. And suddenly all the complaints flew out of Hunter’s head as Crosshair lined himself up.

With only one hand at his disposal, Crosshair would have to choose between holding himself steady or spreading Hunter open. At this point, Hunter wouldn’t have cared if Crosshair just shoved his way inside, but there was an odd hesitancy to Crosshair’s actions.

Hunter didn’t have to think about it; he reached back and spread his cheeks apart for Crosshair, a growl in his throat.

“C’mon, this was your idea.”

“You really don’t want me to rush right now,” Crosshair hissed.

“I really do.”

That got him moving. His mouth tight with a frown, Crosshair pressed against his hole and—okay, yeah, maybe they did need more lube.

“Fuck.” Hunter cursed into the sheets, and then another snarl rose out of him as he sensed Crosshair’s retreat. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Hunter—”

“You either keep going, or I knock you on your ass and take it anyway.”

Crosshair huffed out a strained laugh.

“I created a monster.”

Maybe, maybe not, but Hunter was more sympathetic to how fast Crosshair would start biting if Hunter took too long teasing him.

Hunter pushed back against Crosshair and was moderately successful when he felt the head of his cock breach him. Hunter was proud of that fact, right up until Crosshair smacked him on the ass.

Hunter let out a confused mixture of snarl and whine, his hips jerking against the pillow, and oh, it was nice, but it wasn’t enough. He tried to wiggle back again, but even with one hand Crosshair’s hold on his hip was bruisingly tight.

“Fuck’s sake, Hunter. Even I’m not this bad.”

“Yeah, you are. I’m just used to putting up with your bratty attitude—”

Hunter jerked forward again when another slap hit his ass, and it was definitely more whine than snarl this time. He was beginning to feel warm and kind of strange, almost relaxed even though he should have been ready to come to blows with Crosshair. Instead, he was happy to just… lay there.

Well, he would be happier with Crosshair inside him already.

“Cross.”

The name came out too much like a plea, but it got Crosshair to move. His hand braced on the small of Hunter’s back as he carefully eased his way inside, each slow inch a torture that had Hunter biting into the sheets. Crosshair had been right to make him face this way, his teeth would have found their way into skin by now.

Hunter had experienced various kinds of pain and discomfort in his life, but the stretch was something he couldn’t compare to anything else. It hurt, but it also left him feeling like he was going to shake apart. How did Crosshair do this with him every day and not go insane?

“Stop clenching,” Crosshair hissed through his teeth. “Or I’m going to hurt you.”

Hunter tried to listen, but there wasn’t much space in his thoughts for anything but Crosshair slowly filling him.

“Breathe, Hunter.”

He gasped out the air he was holding, then had to immediately press his face into the mattress to stifle the whine that followed it. But Crosshair kept going until he was seated fully inside, his hips flush against Hunter’s ass.

Crosshair was as out of breath as he was, and when Hunter gave a small wiggle to test how much he could move, Crosshair growled in his ear.

“Don’t. Move.”

Hunter was gradually adjusting to the cock that felt like it might split him in half, so he didn’t see what Crosshair was getting annoyed about.

His brother gripped him tighter.

“Don’t talk either.”

“I wasn’t.”

Crosshair shuddered, and Hunter had a realization.

“…Have you done this before?”

Crosshair went very still.

“This… is not the time to ask.”

“Are you kidding me?”

At Hunter’s growl, Crosshair nudged into his hair and moaned, which just made Hunter squirm more, and Crosshair wouldn’t have been able to keep him from moving even if he’d had both hands.

But then Crosshair exhaled and pushed his face further into Hunter’s hair, and it was torture not to be able to touch him, especially when he could smell how close he was to coming.

“It’s okay,” Hunter said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “First time I was inside you, I thought I was going to pass out.”

Crosshair huffed, and then immediately shuddered. Yeah, Hunter knew exactly what he was feeling. Any little movement felt like it would set him off, like a hair-trigger that was begging to be pulled.

Hunter’s head was turned to the right, so he reached blindly for Crosshair’s left hand and found it gripping the sheets. He carefully uncurled his tight fist, weaving their fingers together until his palm was pressed against Crosshair’s knuckles.

“Don’t care how long you last. Just… want you.”

Finally, Crosshair relaxed, at least enough so he wasn’t about to snap in two. He pressed heavy, lingering kisses against the side of Hunter’s neck, and his words came out quiet and hoarse.

“There hasn’t… been anyone else, Hunter.”

Crosshair pulled back the barest amount, as if testing how ready Hunter was before sliding forward. Hunter thought he saw stars.

“If that answers your question.”

The noise that came out of Hunter wasn’t one that made sense in any spoken language of the galaxy, but Crosshair still understood him. He gave a pleased hum and did it again, letting Hunter grip his hand against the sheets, anchoring him there.

Crosshair picked up his pace, and Hunter stopped thinking altogether. There was nothing but sensation and heat and the slide of Crosshair deep inside him. He barely realized when he was pulled up onto his hands and knees, back automatically arching so he could take Crosshair deeper.

Hunter braced as best he could, limbs shaking from exhaustion and too much stimulation, but it was perfect, and he didn’t want it to end. But eventually Crosshair’s thrusts lost their rhythm, and he bent over Hunter and gripped his cock, jerking it fast.

Hunter couldn’t hold on. He let out a mangled cry as he came over Crosshair’s fingers, and it just kept going, each slam of Crosshair’s cock inside him sending out another wave of come, and Hunter thought he really might pass out his time.

Finally, Crosshair thrust inside him and stilled, and there was a distant, pleasant heat that Hunter was vaguely aware of. Mostly he was trying not to slump forward into the mess he’d made on the bed.

He didn’t want to move, to lose that feeling of Crosshair inside him, but as soon as he pulled out, Hunter would have collapsed if not for Crosshair’s arm around his waist.

“I can… help clean up.” Hunter tried to move from where Crosshair gently set him down, but he couldn’t. All he could do was watch as Crosshair left the bed, and Hunter shivered as he leaked. It wasn’t a bad feeling, and knowing Crosshair left him a mess had him warm all over.

“Your legs won’t work yet,” Crosshair said from where he wet a couple of wash cloths in the bathroom sink.

Hunter frowned. Why wouldn’t his legs work?

“Don’t—”

Crosshair sighed and stared down at Hunter and his new position as a crumpled pile on the floor.

“I did warn you.”

“What’s wrong with my legs?”

Hunter thought he should be more worried about the fact his knees had buckled so fast, but it was hard to get worked up over anything at the moment. He was just… sort of confused.

Crosshair managed to get him back into bed with an arm under his shoulder, and his expression—amused, fond, and exasperated all at once—was worth the small price in dignity.

“Nothing, but you need to learn to relax for more than five seconds.”

Hunter would have protested he was plenty relaxed, but Crosshair’s mouth was on his, and he kind of forgot what he was complaining about. In fact, it was easy to just lie there and let Crosshair wipe him down while his tongue licked and prodded against his own.

By the time Crosshair broke the kiss, Hunter felt like he was floating, and he struggled to open his eyes and watch as his brother first cleaned him up, and then the messy sheets. They had to get something better for this. There had been a nice handheld sonic cleaner Hunter had spotted at the market that would do the job.

Crosshair must have been thinking along similar lines, though he came to a very different conclusion.

“We could get some condoms. I bet Ferenki has a stash he’s been hoarding.”

“We… are not asking our neighbors for condoms.”

“I’m fairly sure they know we’re fucking.”

“That’s not the point.”

Crosshair ignored him, because of course he did, but Hunter let it go. He didn’t have the energy, and all the fight went out of him when Crosshair got back into bed and immediately curled around him.

“So,” Crosshair purred against his ear. “Did you like it?”

Did he like it? That was like asking if he thought his first time in hyperspace was mildly interesting.

“Yeah. I did. A lot.” At the sight of Crosshair’s smug grin, he quickly added, “But I don’t know how you can do that every time. It was… intense.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Intense? I thought your ass was going to kill me.”

Hunter laughed. It was… nice to be able to do that again.

They remained quiet for a while, but it was the kind of quiet that drew Crosshair’s attention, eyes narrowed as he studied Hunter’s face.

“What?”

“You tell me.”

Hunter sighed and pointedly avoided that sharp gaze, staring at the ceiling as if it would give him strength.

“What… do you want, Crosshair?”

There was no response, and when he glanced at Crosshair, his expression was oddly unreadable.

“How do you mean.”

Hunter swallowed. This is not a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew it was important.

“I mean, now that Tantiss is gone, you’ve got choices. Options. Do you want to stay here on Pabu?”

With me?

“Or… well,” Hunter hurried on, “I know Echo is going to go back with Rex at some point. You’d be welcome in the fight.”

Crosshair continued to stare at him. Hunter sighed. He knew what his brother was doing. He was waiting him out for what he was actually trying to say.

“I don’t want to assume that just because we’re… ya know…”

Crosshair’s brows rose in invitation to finish that sentence, but Hunter didn’t take the bait.

“We might want different things,” he finally got out. “And that’s okay. What I don’t wanna do is make you feel like you have to stay. Just because I want to… to build a life here, doesn’t mean you have to do the same. I never want to take your choices away.”

Crosshair’s eyes softened. It was a quick thing, but it was enough to gut-punch him. Crosshair had perfected the art of hard stares and searing glances, but when he let himself relax, open up, be vulnerable? His eyes were the prettiest damn things Hunter had ever seen.

And then those same eyes went from a soft shade of honey-gold, to sparkling with mischief.

“No more anal sex on the receiving end for you,” Crosshair purred. “You get too introspective.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Crosshair was quiet for a long moment before he spoke.

“I don’t know I want.”

Hunter swallowed. It was… fine. If Crosshair had to leave to figure it out, then—

“I’m not finished.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Hunter snorted.

“I don’t know what I want, exactly. Not yet,” Crosshair continued. “But I do know if you’re not there, it’s going to be dull. And you know me, I hate being bored.”

“Crosshair—”

He got up on his elbow and glared down at Hunter.

“Do you really think after everything we’ve been through, I’m going to leave Pabu now?”

“Well—”

“No.” Crosshair gripped him by the chin and kissed him hard before letting him go. “Shut up, Hunter.”

Hunter just blinked at him, and of all the words he could have said, what came out was a dazed, “…All right.”

Crosshair sighed, the flash of frustration already fading, and he surprised Hunter by resting his forehead on the side of Hunter’s temple, his tone unusually vulnerable.

“I’m not going anywhere. So don’t be an idiot.”

“I…” Hunter’s throat ached. “Yeah. Okay.”

Maybe Crosshair would venture away from Pabu eventually. Even if Crosshair went on missions with Rex, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back to Hunter. They seemed to find each other in the end, even when by all accounts they shouldn’t have.

Still, he didn’t want to think about Crosshair leaving, not anytime soon. Now that they were all here, finally together.

As if Crosshair could sense Hunter’s anxious thoughts, he quietly said, “The Empire’s not going to find us here. We have time.”

Hunter automatically tensed; he hoped the Empire wouldn’t find them, but he wasn’t going to risk their safety again. If the Empire showed up again, they had contingency plans in place. Escape craft they had stowed away in the underground caverns, including submersibles.

Crosshair had even tried to convince Shep to let them build anti-aircraft guns around the perimeter, but unfortunately, the man hadn’t been too keen on the idea of giant turrets all over the island.

Hunter’s tension melted into a shudder as Crosshair spoke low into his ear.

“Hemlock’s dead. Rampart’s dead. The lab’s destroyed. We have Omega. We have Tech.”

Crosshair squeezed him tighter, and his words were… soft. Almost sweet.

“We’ll rebuild the ship, and Tech will either remember us or he won’t, but he’s still here. We’re all still here.”

Hunter didn’t know what to say, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to speak past the tightness of his throat.

“You don’t have to carry it alone, Hunter. You have us.”

Without thought, Hunter turned on his side toward Crosshair and pulled him in close, burying his face into the crook of his neck. He wanted to get as close as he could, intertwining their legs with arms wrapped around his middle, and surprisingly, Crosshair didn’t complain. He just ran a hand through Hunter’s hair, and Hunter closed his eyes. He could sense Crosshair’s gaze on him, but Hunter didn’t mind.

Crosshair had always been able to see him in a way no one else did.

The words tumbled out.

“Love you, Cross.”

Hunter braced himself, waiting for Crosshair to pull away. Maybe even run. Hell, he had half a mind to do it himself.

And Crosshair did roll his eyes, but… he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he held him tighter and pressed his face against Hunter’s hair, as if to keep his answer a secret between the two of them.

“I love you too, Hunter.”

It was a while before Hunter wanted to get out of bed, too sore to move and too comfortable holding onto a still-sleeping Crosshair.

But eventually they had to get up. When they did, they took their time, nowhere urgent to go and nothing that needed immediate attention. They showered, distracted by lazy touches and lingering kisses, but eventually they got dressed and headed to Tech’s bungalow for what would be a late breakfast or early lunch. They planned to move him into the empty third bedroom of the main house eventually, but for now, the hut had more room to hold Tech’s daily visitors.

Just before Hunter opened the front door, a hand squeezed his ass, and Hunter half-stumbled, half-jumped into the hut. He scowled over his shoulder, but Crosshair pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He was getting more brazen in public, and if Hunter didn’t know better, he would have thought Crosshair wanted everyone to know.

Well, now one person certainly did.

Tech’s gaze snapped to them as soon as the door opened, and his eyes narrowed hard enough for Hunter to come to a dead stop, Crosshair bumping into him. Even Wrecker and Echo looked alarmed at Tech’s sudden change in demeanor.

“You cannot be serious.”

Hunter blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

“I’m gone for a brief period of time—yes, fine, half a year, the point still stands—and that’s when you decide to pursue a relationship? I spent years attempting to get you to admit your feelings for each other, but no, you had to wait until I was declared dead for you to make actual progress—”

Hunter knew Tech well enough—and this was Tech—to know he would go on like this for hours, but he didn’t get the chance.

Because Echo… howled with laughter.

Hunter had never heard that sound come out of Echo before. He glanced at Crosshair, who looked just as disturbed. They’d always wondered what would make the ARC trooper crack, but—

“Be glad… you weren’t here for it,” Echo finally said, wiping actual tears from his eyes. “They had sex on my ship, at least once by my count.”

Hunter gawked. Oh, no. No, no.

“Yeah,” Wrecker chimed in, his grin wide. “And Phee’s ship. And the Imperial shuttle on the way to Tantiss—”

“—Excuse me?!”

“—They what?!”

Tech and Echo turned their respective glares on them, and Crosshair shrank back behind Hunter.

“Permission to make a tactical retreat?” Crosshair asked with the same grimness as when faced with an overwhelming force of super battle droids.

“…We’ll keep our options open.”

Tech jabbed a finger at them.

“You shall stay right where you are. I demand details.”

“D-details?” Hunter stammered. Just what kind of details did Tech want?! A mission report, play-by-play of everything they’ve ever done?

“Yes. Such as when you decided to remove your heads out of your own orifices—”

Tech’s indignation was cut short as Wrecker wrapped his large arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. He was also laughing, but there were a few sobs that hiccupped out of him as well.

“We missed you, Tech. Good to have you back. It… it’s not been the same without you.”

And those were definite tears that streamed down Wrecker’s face, and it was enough to soften Tech’s stern glare. He patted one of Wrecker’s arms and leaned into the touch, which for Tech was basically a full embrace.

“And I am glad to be back. Circumstances notwithstanding,” he added with a narrow-eyed glare in their direction.

“You can’t stay pissy forever,” Crosshair said smoothly, apparently deciding to come out from hiding behind Hunter to stand beside him. “You’re the one who thought hours of solid lecture was going to get through Hunter’s thick head.”

“Hey—”                                    

“Of course Hunter wasn’t going to make the first move,” Tech punctuated his words as if each one insulted him. “Those lessons were to give you creative ideas and proper motivation to approach him.”

Crosshair stared blankly.

Tech looked at Echo over the barrier of Wrecker’s arms.

“How did they get anything done while I was gone?”

“Because Wrecker and I were there.”

“Ah.”

“Hey.”

The objection came from Crosshair this time, but Tech’s scrutiny turned to Hunter, and he tried not to shift on his feet. He’d forgotten howintense Tech’s stares could be.

“At least you appear less stressed, so Crosshair did something right.”

Hunter’s cheeks grew hot. He’d forgotten how blunt Tech could be too.

Crosshair also grew bolder and slung his arm around Hunter’s shoulder, surprising him.

“Yes, I did.”

Hunter’s face burned, and he remembered why Crosshair and Tech were the  branded the Batch twins. Troublemakers since cadets, they were a menace together, especially when they set their sights on their oldest brother.

But Tech went quiet, his expression falling when he focused on a certain point, and Hunter realized why. Crosshair did too, and he retracted his arm and folded them over his chest, hiding his stump from sight.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“…You weren’t you.”

“Regardless. I shall make you a new hand.”

“What? I don’t need a new hand!”

“I will design a bio-mechanical hand that will fit your specifications. What you do with it isn’t my concern. Throw it in the garbage chute if it pleases you, but I’m still constructing it.”

Crosshair tsked, but the edge of his mouth twitched upward.

“Stubborn ass.”

“Wrecker, please release me,” Tech said with absolute serenity. “I must make my youngest brother see sense. It will require physical violence.”

“He’s gotten feistier,” Crosshair purred. “I like this new you.”

“You will like it a lot less when I—”

Whatever he was going to say was squeezed out of him by a very clingy Wrecker, his face snuggled into the side of Tech’s head. He sighed, the weary sound of a man who gave up a battle before it was fought.

His gaze found Hunter where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched their reunion. Tech’s expression wavered, and Hunter knew they’d have to talk at some point. Reassure him that everything he’d done wasn’t his fault. Though by the way Crosshair fell back into rhythm so quickly with Tech, he knew there was no resentment there. And who knew? Maybe helping Tech would be good for Crosshair too.

He watched Crosshair take a chair next to Tech’s bed, boldly sitting within slapping distance, though by Tech’s soft, barely-there smile, there was no danger of that now. Especially when Omega walked into the room, saw the look of recognition on Tech’s face, and raced across the short distance into his waiting arms.

Omega choked out a sob, and Wrecker wasn’t far behind as he embraced them both. Even Echo looked suspiciously misty-eyed.

Hunter would have been happy to watch the scene from a distance, let his family reunite and start to build those connections back to each other. He couldn’t remember the last time it hadn’t hurt. Had it been like this before?

But a stubborn arm pulled him down, half in the seat and half in Crosshair’s lap.

His protests vanished when Crosshair wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, resting his chin on Hunter’s shoulder.

No, Hunter decided with a small smile. It wasn’t like before.

It was better.

[ashes-2-ashes57cba]

The Clone Wars: The Bad Batch

Part 1 of the Clone Wars Bad Batch arc with my OC: Specter! Hope you stick around and keep reading! (This has been edited, thoroughly)

“I’ve heard mixed things about these guys.”

“They have a 100% success rate.” Jesse and Kix conversed as Rex and Cody exited the dormitory. 

Their mission? Infiltrate the Cyber Center on Anaxes and retrieve whatever was rendering the Grand Army of the Republic’s attack patterns completely ineffective. 

“It’s not that they win, it’s how they win that worries me,” Jesse said. 

“Repeat, coming in hot on platform TT-3-9-7.” An announcement over the P. A. system caught the clones’ attention just as an Omicron-class attack shuttle came into view, rapidly approaching the landing strip. All personnel scrambled to get out of the way as it roughly landed, sending loose crates flying away. “Clear the airfield! Clear the airfield!” the clone over the P.A. warned. The shuttle came to a stop only a few meters away from Rex, Cody, Kix, and Jesse, kicking up a cloud of dust. 

“So, why haven’t I heard of this squad?” Rex asked the commander, already second guessing his decision. 

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh,” Cody paused to look for the right description, “desirable mutations.” 

“99, eh? Nice touch,” Rex commented, remembering the old clone.

“They call themselves, ‘The Bad Batch’,” Cody crossed his arms. With a track record like theirs, Cody knew they were the clear choice for this mission. 

Stairs lowered from the ship and the five members of the Bad Batch exited; the tallest and biggest one was the first to take off his helmet. 

“The cavalry has arrived!” he cheered in a big booming voice. Jesse and Kix exchanged looks— he certainly didn’t look like a regular clone. The Bad Batch approached the group, two more of them removed their helmets: one with long brown hair and a tattoo covering half his face, and the other with a longer face and short gray hair, complete with a toothpick stuck in his scowl. 

“These guys are clones?” Kix murmured. Another Batcher took his helmet off: he had goggles and an inquisitive expression. “They don’t look like clones to me.” 

The smallest clone in the group caught Rex’s attention. Of the batch, he was the only one who hadn’t removed his helmet. Rex couldn’t quite place just what was so curious about the way this mystery-clone carried himself and the odd fit of his armor. 

“Sergeant. Good to see you again,” Cody greeted.

“You too, sir.”

Cody turned to the rest of his group. “This is Hunter.”

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications,” Hunter explained, side-eyeing the big guy, who laughed in response.

“Ever fought a male Yalbec?” he asked, deciding to focus on Jesse.

“Um… No. Can’t say that I have,” he stammered. 

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these,” the brute said, pulling out a large knife. Jesse gulped.

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive. That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us,” Hunter said. 

“Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us,” the one with the goggles spoke up. “And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.”

“They call him Tech,” Cody said. 

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand,” Hunter started to say, pointing back to the scowling clone, “is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Crosshair shifted his toothpick, analyzing the four clones through squinted eyes. “And finally, Specter— where’s Specter?” Hunter looked around. The smallest clone was out of sight. 

When did that happen? Rex wondered, realizing he hadn’t registered the trooper’s exit. 

He reappeared, tapping Kix on the shoulder and handing him the scanner he’d left back at the barracks. 

“What in the…” he took the datapad apprehensively. The trooper wordlessly went to stand next to Hunter, with his arms crossed and head tilted. The Sergeant chuckled.

“Specter, here, is our secondary sniper and assassin when we need it: covert, fast, and light-footed. I think the sprint record was about—oh, what was it again?” he paused to ask, although Rex could tell this was nothing more than an opportunity for the pair to show off. Specter said nothing, only holding up five fingers. “Right, fifty kilometers an hour, with reflexes just as fast,” Hunter finished.

Rex, Jesse, and Kix tried to hide their amazement while Cody shook his head and smiled. 

“We playin’ the long game, Specter?” he asked. The soldier nodded while the other Batchers smirked. It made the other two somewhat uneasy.

“So, Commander,” Hunter turned back to Cody, “what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” 

“Let’s get going first. We’ll brief you on the way,” Cody instructed, leading the other eight clones to the awaiting gunship. 

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It was cramped in the gunship as they flew over the forests of Anaxes. Though the one they called Specter still hadn’t removed his helmet, Jesse could feel he was being watched through the dim red light. 

“What are you looking at?”

“We don’t usually work with regs,” the one called Crosshair chimed in before Specter could speak, flicking his toothpick at him. 

“Regs?” Jesse scoffed, shifting towards the pair before Hunter blocked his way. 

“He’s talking about regular clones. It’s nothing personal.” Specter shrugged behind him, seeming to share a look with Crosshair. Jesse wasn’t sure he liked this bunch.

“Hey now, We’re all on the same team, so cut the attitude and listen up,” Cody announced. The clones stood at attention, even Specter from their small spot in the side. “Here’s the mission: Our target is this Cyber Center,” Cody pulled up a holographic display of the complex. “It’s the brains of the entire Separatist campaign here on Anaxes.”

“I could demolish that with one hand. Yeah!” Wrecker jeered. Everyone rolled their eyes.

“This isn’t a demo job, Wrecker. It’s strictly a retrieval operation,” Cody reminded. 

“Incoming fire!” the pilot inside the ship yelled. Their presence had clearly not gone unnoticed. Everyone inside was thrown around as blaster bolts struck the sides of the ship and the pilot attempted evasive maneuvers out of the canyon. The front of the ship was struck by a blast, and the team braced themselves for a crash into the canyon.

“We’re going down!” Wrecker yelled, almost excitedly. The gunship scraped against the canyon wall before sliding along the bottom, finally lurching to a stop. 

Amid the smoke and rubble, Wrecker used his strength to help his fellow troopers out of the crash. “We always get shot down when we travel with regs,” he said, almost teasing.

His comment went unheard as Kix spotted Cody still stuck underneath the gunship.

“Cody!” he cried, rushing to his aid. “Help! He’s trapped. We have to do something.”

“I’ll get him,” Rex rushed forward.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hunter stopped him. “Easy, Captain. Wrecker, get him out.” The brute nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Get back,” he said. Everyone stepped back as he approached the ship.

“This is ridiculous! He’s gonna need help to get Cody out of there,” Kix complained. Crosshair chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna get the gunship out of there, not Cody,” he explained, pointing with his toothpick. 

And just like he said, Wrecker, with his helmet back on his head, pushed the gunship over and out of the way; he carried Cody out from the wreckage and to the rest of the group. 

“Boom,” Wrecker quipped, just before the gunship exploded behind him. Cody wheezed and groaned; Wrecker put him down on the ground so Kix could scan his chest.

“He has internal damage. I can cut the pain, but he needs help fast,” he announced.

“We all need help,” Crosshair drawled, noticing a large force of battle droids approaching their position. “That blast gave away our position.” Hunter gave a short laugh.

“I thought getting shot down gave away our position,” he said with a smirk.

“Everyone, find cover. We’ll hold this position and let them come to us,” Rex ordered.

“I don’t think so, Captain. That’s not our style. We prefer going to them,” Hunter enunciated, pointing defiantly at the oncoming droids. “Bad Batch, Plan 82: Shockwave!” he ordered, putting on his helmet, his team followed suit. Wrecker hoisted up a large piece of the metal wreckage. “Let’s get to work.” The group ran towards the battle droids.

“Blast them!” a droid commanded. Wrecker’s piece of debris was placed in front of the team, acting as cover from the barrage of fire so they could keep advancing. Tech, Hunter, Crosshair, and Specter fired at the droids as they went. 

“Specter, watch our flank,” Hunter commanded.

“Copy,” the soldier’s voice was distorted. What must’ve been a faulty modulator made whatever Specter said next completely unintelligible. 

As the droids grew closer, Specter attached a heavily modified barrel to the end of his blaster, converting it into what could best be described as a shotgun. 

He loaded the weapon, inserting projectile shells into the ammo chamber, fired, and as the shells impacted against the droids, they exploded; weaponized plasma launched and propelled the inner pellets outward in a spray of death. It was like a firework as droids who were caught up in the blast were destroyed.

After the Bad Batch had gained some distance, Wrecker planted the makeshift shield down, allowing for Tech to peek out and scan the droids with his goggles. 

“45. Mark 151,” Tech relayed to Hunter.

“45. Mark 151,” he copied, pulling out an EMP grenade and throwing it high into the air. Crosshair shot it as it fell, disabling a group of droids. The team advanced again, Wrecker planted the shield once more.

“75. Mark 357.”

“75. Mark 357.” Tech and Hunter, respectively, relayed. Hunter threw the grenade, this time at a lower angle, but a battle droid had caught it.

“What the…?” the droid began to say before Crosshair shot the EMP, desemating an even larger group of battle droids. Spider droids entered the fray, firing near the Bad Batch as they moved forward.

“Spider droids. Specter, they’re all yours. We’ll cover you,” Hunter said, handing Specter his vibro-knife. Wrecker shifted the piece of metal, allowing Specter to speed through the rest of the battle droids, stabbing a few as he went by, towards the spider droid, dodging as it took shots at him. But the clone was too fast for the droid to accurately aim. He was soon in front of the spider droid, stabbing its eye and shutting it down. Then using the knife as a handle, Specter hoisted themselves up and reconfigured their blaster back to its original form before unleashing a rapid-fire setting on the second spider droid, completely mutilating it. The rest of the Bad Batch had destroyed the remaining battle droids and advanced to Specter’s position. 

“Any more? Come on!” Wrecker cheered in victory. Specter hopped down from the spider droid and handed Hunter his knife, who twirled it back into its sheath. With all of the droids defeated, the Bad Batch went to regroup among the broken droid pieces. The other clones made their way over, with Kix supporting Cody.

“That was some show you put on just now,” Rex complimented.

Hunter took off his helmet and nodded, “Just doing our job, Captain.” Behind him, Wrecker was playing with a dead droid head, laughing.

“Hey look, Crosshair, this little clanker likes you,” he teased, waving it in his squadmate’s face.

“Grow up, Wrecker,” the sniper said grumpily. Meanwhile, Tech and Specter were leaning close, observing something on his forearm monitor.

“Yes, your damage efficiency has increased since we made those last modifications. All in part, of course, to my engineering expertise,” Tech practically bragged. Specter silently turned his head toward him. Tech somehow understood the clone’s hidden expression and quickly modified his statement. “Fine. Our engineering expertise,” Tech sighed, giving Specter the proper credit; he nodded his head in triumph.

“We should move out before reinforcements arrive. Our position has been compromised,” Rex said, motioning for everyone to follow him out of the canyon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clones had their camp set up in the forest, Rex tended to Cody, Hunter investigated the ground nearby, and the other 6 were gathered around a warm light source. Jesse sighed.

“So, I get what makes the other Batchers unique, but what’s so special about Hunter?” he wondered out loud.

“He can put up with the other four,” Kix joked. 

“He was engineered with heightened senses,” Tech stated, kneeling down and warming his hands by the light, “A place like the Cyber Center, Hunter can feel the electromagnetic frequencies from anywhere on the planet.”

“And here I thought we were smart just using a holomap,” Jesse jeered, elbowing Kix.

“Well, maps can be wrong. Hunter never is,” the Batcher said, turning to look at his Sergeant as he stood up. 

Cody groaned, still in pain, catching everyone’s attention.

“Hang in there, Cody.” Rex encouraged his comrade. The captain stood up and went toward the group. “Listen up. We have to move out,” he commanded.

“Commander Cody’s in no position to move,” Crosshair said, stepping forward and removing his toothpick.

“Already called in Evac. Kix will stay with Cody until it arrives.” Rex indicated toward the medic, who nodded in agreement over his role. “I’m in charge now, and I’ve got a plan to get into that Cyber Center.” The sniper stepped even closer, challenging the reg.

“If your plans are so good, why did Commander Cody have to call us in?” he sneered. Wrecker moved closer too, sensing a fight. But it was Jesse who shot up and got in Crosshair’s face, pointing at him.

“You can’t talk to Captain Rex like that!”

“Says who?” Wrecker grumbled, almost with glee; he lifted Jesse up by the throat into the air, who immediately started to flail.

“Put him down!” Rex ordered. Kix went to intervene, but Crosshair pushed him away.

“Stay out of it,” he hissed. 

“Hey, watch it!” Kix pushed back; the two began to wrestle with each other.

“Uh, guys, come on,” Tech pleaded, staying out of the fight. Finally, Specter stood up and growled, taking off his—her— helmet and marching toward the chaos.

“That’s enough!” she shouted, using her helmet to hit Wrecker on the side of his head, knocking him off balancing and forcing him to release Jesse. She stalked over to Crosshair and Kix, grabbing the sniper by his ear. Her free hand reached up to pull down Wrecker by his ear too. The boys cried in pain and struggled in her grip. The regs caught their breath and watched the scene unfold.

“I swear, your egos are going to get us Court Martialed! Have you ever thought that maybe–just maybe–if you’d humble yourselves for one mission, it would go off without a hitch?! Heh, it’s no wonder the regs don’t like us.” she scolded. Tech sat back down, trusting his teammate to handle it. “If you would stop provoking fights, we wouldn’t need to keep cleaning up our own mess. Not like you clean up anyway,” Specter mumbled the last remark. They went to protest.

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She pulled them closer, they grunted then silenced themselves. “Think about this very carefully; would you rather deal with me, or Hunter?” The boys grimaced and looked at each other, before deciding to hold their hands up in surrender. Specter huffed and dropped them, picking up her helmet. “Honestly, Crosshair, I’m almost embarrassed to call you my twin,” she mumbled, glaring at the sniper. He only frowned and turned away. “Thanks to you idiots, I’ve lost my bet with Tech. I’ll pay you once we get back to the Marauder,” she turned to the goggled clone who merely gave a triumphant thumbs up. 

The regs were still shocked at the presence of the woman. Her skin was fair and eyes were brown, chestnut hair was styled into a braided halo, although a few strands had fallen into her face. She may have been small and feminine, but she held herself with confidence and strength they had only seen in their other brethren. 

“What?” Jesse was the first to vocalize, running a hand over his bruised neck.

“Oh! Yeah, Tech and I had a bet to see if I could go the whole mission without giving myself away,” Specter explained, her voice turning sweet and jovial, compared to being full of disdain at her squadmates. This was the ‘long game’ Cody had mentioned before. 

“Not that. You’re… uh,” Kix tried to find the words.

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Wrecker teased. Crosshair smacked him on the arm. Specter only laughed and gave a bow.

“The Kaminoans wanted a clone that was fast and flexible, they got me and they’re stuck with me. These idiots are also stuck with me,” she gestured over her shoulder to her team. “And now, you guys are stuck with me too!” Specter pointed at the regs and winked. Hunter came up to the group, saving Jesse, Rex, and Kix from any more awkwardness.

“If you’re all done, let’s cut the chatter and finish what we started. We’ll do it your way, Captain,” he said to Rex, whose stoic expression returned. “For Commander Cody.”

“Okay. Let’s gear up and move out.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clones carefully moved through the forest the following morning; a tower rose in the distance and the clones assessed it under nearby cover.

“Not our primary target,” Rex observed.

“It’s an outpost. Should we take it?” Hunter asked. They saw some droids guarding the entrance of it.

“Probably easier than going around,” the Captain shrugged.

“Alright. What are your orders? We pick ‘em off from the treeline, one-by-one?” 

“Actually, I was thinking we’d take a page from your book. Rush them head-on,” Rex said with a smirk. The Sergeant chuckled.

“I like your style.”

“Hunter, that’s our style,” Specter piped up, reloading her rifle. 

“Yeah, I’m still getting used to that,” Rex mumbled.

The droids remained blissfully unaware of the crew’s presence, maintaining their position. That was, until one was shot down.

“Clones! Get them!” a battle droid shouted, pointing at the oncoming force emerging from the treeline. Firing erupted from both sides, but the clones overtook the droids, making their way to the tower elevator. Wrecker and Specter stayed groundside to provide cover for the others going up the tower. More droids awaited at the top.

“Hey, you’re not authorize-” a droid began before he was shot down. The team made quick work of them, defeating them all just as Wrecker and Specter made it up.

“Is it over already? Aw, man!” he grumbled and pouted, taking off his helmet. The rest of the clones followed suit. 

“Not bad, for a reg,” Hunter complimented Rex. Tech approached a nearby console and sat down.

“All right, there it is. The Cyber Center,” Rex pointed to a building out the window. Specter whistled in amazement.

“Yeah, that would have been a fun demo job,” she said to herself, earning a few worried looks.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Wrecker exclaimed in agreement.

“It looks like the Cyber Center itself has minimal guards, about 30 droids,” Tech reported, looking at the data from the console. “Oh… wait. Wait! I got a massive signal coming in,” he warned, widening the range of the detection signal. “A whole platoon of droids is headed this way.”

“Someone’s noticed our handiwork back at the crash site,” Hunter grumbled.

“Yeah. Make sure you keep an eye on those incoming Separatist forces. I wanna know when they reach this outpost,” Rex ordered Tech.

“You got it, Cap.”

“We gotta move swiftly,” Rex looked to the rest of the group. 

“There’s some speeder bikes down there. Think we can pull off a pincer maneuver, Sarge? Flank them from the back?” Specter nodded to the bikes. Hunter and Rex smiled at her plan.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the Cyber Center, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech rode the speeder bikes around the back of the center, then hopped off the bikes and slid down an incline, leading to the building. Rex, Jesse, and Specter approached the heavily guarded front.

“Do you know what’s going on?” one battle droid asked another.

“Maybe it’s another drill-” it was cut off as the regs and Specter ambushed them. 

“Is everyone in position?” Rex asked into his comm. Jesse and Specter continued to shoot down droids and advance on the center.

“Affirmative,” Hunter answered for him, Tech, and Wrecker.

“Affirmative,” said Crosshair, who had taken a sniping position on a nearby cliff.

“Captain,” Tech spoke up, “you wanted to know when those Separatist forces breached the outpost.” He looked at a tracker on his wrist monitor; red dots, representing battle droids, surrounded the outpost. “Well, they’re getting there just about now.”

Specter took aim with her reconfigured sniper rifle, shooting down a droid talking with Admiral Trench. It signaled Jesse and Rex to also open fire on the droids. Rex threw a grenade, taking out a large group of them, also taking cover behind a pile of crates. Crosshair also assisted, taking out droids from a distance. 

“All units to the front door!” a battle droid from the back entrance commanded. The droids ran towards the front, leaving the back entrance wide open for the rest of the Bad Batch. Tech began working on opening the door.

“Hmm. This is a delicate operation,” he observed. Wrecker kicked the door open.

“Boom! Ha ha, you take too long.” Tech shook his head as his squadmate pried the door open. The team shot down more droids as they made their way further into the center. They reached a command station, quickly blasting the droids inside.

“Tech, get to work on these computers. We’ll go get the regs and Specter,” Hunter ordered. Tech did so while Hunter and Wrecker went to the front door. Meanwhile, Rex, Jesse, and Specter were making their way closer to the entrance, pushing the battle droids back until they were ambushed from behind by Hunter and Wrecker. With most of the droids destroyed, Rex, Jesse, and Specter approached the entrance and joined the other two in holding their position.

“What took you so long, Wrecker?” Specter teased.

“Hey, this is a ‘delicate operation’,” he replied. A loud noise caused them to notice a large droid transport approaching them. “Better get in there, Cap,” Wrecker advised. Rex ran back inside while the other four held their position and fired relentlessly at the deployed droids. Specter reconfigured her blaster to its shotgun form. 

“I have got to get me one of those,” Jesse commented.

Back inside, Rex found Tech working on the computer.

“Okay, I’m in. What am I looking for?”

“Here’s the algorithm,” Rex handed him the chip, taking off his helmet. “You’re looking for a program using this sequence.” Tech plugged in the chip and began working.

“Found it,” he announced after a moment. Holograms popped up above the table. “This is strange. It’s not a program. It’s a live signal from another planet… Skako Minor.”

“A live signal?” Rex wondered. 

Meanwhile outside, the battle droids continued to advance on the four clones, who were backed behind some crates. 

“Crosshair, we’re gonna need a lift,” Hunter said into his communicator. 

The sniper looked around for transportation and found a speeder, guarded by only a few droids.

“Not gonna be a problem,” Crosshair reported.

Inside the complex—

“Here it is. This is audible,” Tech said, finding a way to tap into the signal he found traced. 

“Patch it through. I want to hear it,” Rex ordered. Tech played the audio.

“What is that?” he wondered. They both listened intently for a moment. “It sounds almost… almost human.” Rex’s eyes were wide.

“It can’t be…”

“We gotta go, now!” Hunter ordered the other three. One by one they slipped inside, providing cover fire for each other as they began to make their way through the halls.

“Tech, find out who’s sending that signal. Ask who that is,” Rex said. Tech typed something into the console. The audio signal began to reply, repeating its answer.

“CT-1409.” 

The Captain went pale. “I… I don’t believe it.” The other four clones appeared in the room.

“We’re gone. Rex, let’s go,” Hunter said, urgently. Rex didn’t move, even as Tech brushed past him. “Rex, now!” He snapped out of it and put his helmet on, joining the others in escape, still pursued by droids. More droids waited for them outside, but Crosshair arrived in time with the transport speeder, pausing just long enough for all of them to hop on before they sped away.

Silence was heavy in the transport until the crew was safe and out of sight in the wilderness. It was then Tech chose to ask Rex a question. 

“That number, Captain, what did it mean?”

“CT-1409,” Rex paused, “that was Echo’s number. He’s alive.”

OMG thank you so much if you've read this far. This is the first time I've published anything anywhere so I'm really proud of what I've accomplished and really hope you (the dearest reader) continue to enjoy my story and OC! Stay tuned for more of Specter

[lothcatthree]

my darling<3<3 i have very much enjoyed everything you've told me about the coffee/pastry shop au so feel free to feed me more (pun intended) but i am also very intrigued by this ballerina au 👀👀

hi babe!!! sorry this took so long, but i got my ass in gear and made a snippet.

(psst, @brokenphoenix99 @violentcheese @forloveofcodywan @halfwaytoknowhere this one is for y'all too)

here, obi-wan is a professional ballerina and cody is an ex-marine who decided to be a sports medicine physical therapist at a clinic owned by kix. waxer is a kindergarten teacher, which isn't important to the plot but i thought you'd like that info <3

this would be another long-ish fic where obi-wan starts out as cody's patient and ends up pursuing him. cody is very confused because he's trying to stay professional, but obi-wan is so handsome and nice and funny and goddammit he's making cody fall in love with him, ethics be damned.

hilarity and shenanigans ensue.

here's a snippet for their first meeting (obi-wan gets to be a little slutty, as a treat)

Cody is a professional, you see.

He’s never had an issue separating work from his personal life, which really hasn’t been difficult, seeing as most of his patients have been teenaged athletes or huge burly football players that speak a grand total of five words to Cody and prefer to communicate through grunts and pointing at where it hurts.

And then there’s Obi-Wan.

When Cody heard he was being referred to a new client, a professional ballerina, Cody expected something like a tiny, rail-thin person to walk through his door with shitty ankles and a shittier attitude. Not that Cody has anything against ballerinas, specifically, but his only experience has been movies and TV shows and sue him for never meeting one in person.

And then…

There’s Obi-Wan.

Cody is not expecting the man that does walk through the door of the clinic with bright blue eyes, a kind smile, and soft auburn hair that falls just above his shoulders. Where Cody expected all ballerinas to be sharp edges, this man just looks so… soft.

And then he speaks.

“Hi, my name is Obi-Wan. I’m here to see…” Obi-Wan trails off and checks his phone, “Dr. Cody Fett?”

Cody springs into action from where he was more or less creepily lurking in the clinic, watching from a spot that gives him a view of the front desk. It’s his favorite spot to throw things at Jesse, their receptionist, when he’s not looking.

Cody strides into the lobby, attempting to act casual and if he wasn’t just gawking over the man that walked in. The man’s (Obi-Wan, Cody reminds himself) eyes dart to him and Cody tries to keep a straight face, but it feels like he’s burning under the gaze for some reason.

“Hi, that’s me,” Cody curves around the desk and stands a few feet in front of Obi-Wan, extending a hand.

Obi-Wan offers him another smile; a flash of white teeth and a small dimple on his chin. Cody watches his eyes assess Cody and dip down his body, but Cody brushes it off. It’s not the first time a patient has checked him out, though usually they’re more subtle.

He quickly sets the water bottle he’s carrying (it’s covered in stickers, and Cody registers a pride flag sticker, but decides to shove that information away) onto the desk to shake Cody’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for getting me into your schedule so quickly. I have a recital coming up in a few weeks and I really need to get this bum knee figured out,” Obi-Wan says, taking his hand away and gesturing to his right knee, which is covered in a brace that fits underneath the hem of his biker shorts.

Cody returns his hand to his side, sliding it into the pocket of his black scrub joggers and politely laughs. He has the urge to ask where Obi-Wan’s (wonderfully smooth) accent is from, but that’s got nothing to do with his care and Cody internally chastises himself.

Focus.

“It’s no problem. Why don’t you go ahead and come back with me and we can figure out what’s going on? You can put your stuff on that table at the back” Cody says, gesturing to some cubbies they got for free when Waxer emptied out his old classroom.

Obi-Wan shoots him a grateful smile and begins walking into the clinic just ahead of Cody. After a step, though, Obi-Wan drops his phone, which would be fine, except he abruptly bends at the waist to pick it up. His back arches probably a little more than necessary, and the biker shorts don’t leave a lot of his body to the imagination.

Cody, thanking every possible deity that he still has quick reflexes from his Marine days, stops and flies a hand out to grip the desk to prevent himself from tripping and promptly running his pelvis into what is, unfortunately, a fantastic ass.

Obi-Wan grabs his phone and stands back up fluidly, turning over his shoulder to shoot Cody a smile that, well… It's been a while since Cody’s gotten around, but he could swear it’s flirtatious.

“Sorry. Can’t bend at the knees,” Obi-Wan explains, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

In fact, he quickly drags his eyes down Cody’s body and Cody could swear he bites his lip before turning on his heel and walking to the cubbies.

Cody doesn’t respond and he feels his face has heated up, so he turns to Jesse to make sure that all of that actually just happened. Jesse turns from where he was watching Obi-Wan and looks to Cody with slightly raised brows before he gets a look at Cody’s blush and bites his lip to hide a smile.

“Did you se-” Cody begins to whisper.

“I saw it,” Jesse nods and snickers.

Cody blinks dumbly at Jesse, his systems still a little offline as he tries to process that a patient (a beautiful one, but that’s entirely besides the point) just openly flirted with him and tried to get him to look at his ass (it worked, but that’s entirely besides the point).

Jesse looks over at Obi-Wan again and breaks out into an amused grin, his hand coming up to rub at his mouth. He turns to look at Cody again and Cody is a little scared of what he just saw.

Jesse jerks his head over to Obi-Wan and Cody gulps before looking over there. Obi-Wan is working on re-tying his shoes, which is innocent enough, but…

That motherfucker is bending at the knee.

[weyrwolfen]

Eidola: Chapter 23 - CT-62-1865 Ori

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Clone Trooper OCs, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and other canon members of the 501st/332nd and the Bad Batch

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, and substance abuse; PTSD; it’s post-Order 66 and nobody is having a good time (but they’re all working on it)

Summary: The mission was never to bring down the Empire. Not really. The mission was to save every single one of their chipped brothers. But if doing do helped break the Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy? Well, that was just a bonus.

The report in Ori’s hands was thorough. Kix was looking through everything: every medical scan, every prescribed medication, every suggested therapy. Everything. And it was all written down in excruciating detail, just pages and pages of furiously meticulous notes, all coming to the same conclusion.

No immediate evidence of intentionally sabotaged medical care. So, that was something.

Of course, Kix had only just completed his investigation of the formal medical records. He was now moving on to the physical examinations.

Ori set the datapad down on the table in front of him, switched his bucket back over to thermal view, and looked at the cuffed sentient sitting across the interrogation table from him.

Mel’andaro Ye’Daro, Mel, was looking down at their cuffed hands, which were secured to a durasteel ring in the center of the table by two pairs of loose links. They had twisted all four of their hands together in a tight tangle of long fingers. Probably a show of nerves on their part, but their body language did not align much with human-centric models, so that interpretation was tentative at best. In Ori’s filtered vision, they appeared in different hues of green, shading to yellow against the cooler blue of the table and the walls.

According to the other records Kix had shared with Ori, Yendarri, as a species, ran colder than most sentients. However, they were still technically warm-blooded, and shifts in temperature, breath, and heartrate could still be telling. Ori just needed to see if he could get a reaction out of Mel, to get a feel for what to look for during this interrogation.

They were a medic. A surgeon rather, as civilians reckoned such things. They had completed the coursework side of their schooling and then turned down a number of more prestigious offers to take an internship working with the Refugee Relief Coalition. And that choice had actually been what had gotten them caught up in a pirate raid on a refugee camp on Merinae IV.

So either Mel had political aspirations – unlikely, given their lack of participation in any associated programs during their schooling or mentorships from other sentients with such leanings – of they took a medic’s oaths and duty to other sentients very seriously.

Ori could work with that.

“Kix is in medical, giving every brother you’ve treated a complete workover,” Ori said in a casual, almost friendly tone. “If he’s about to find anything untoward, it’d go better for you if you tell us about it now.”

Mel’s eyes, yellow-green in Ori’s thermals, blinked slowly. Blue momentarily washed their face, but then a warmer yellow crept up their neck in oddly parallel stripes.

“I would never intentionally harm a patient under my care,” Mel said cooly, tipping their chin up. If Ori had to guess, he would interpret that reaction as professional offense.

Interesting.

Ori picked up his datapad, opened a blank file, and made a point of casually entering a few notes on his observations.

“Forgive me, if we can’t simply take your word for that,” Ori finally responded in the same politely neutral tone of voice. “You did, after all, compromise our position to an unknown party just a few hours ago. That doesn’t seem like the actions of a sentient who is overly concerned with our health and wellbeing.”

Mel’s eyes fell. Their face, without the extensive facial muscles that made other species so expressive to the human eye, remained difficult to read, but the thermal output shifted again, the yellow banding on their throat spreading further while traces of cooler blue crept over the dome of their head. Was that shame? Fear? Worry? Hard to tell.

Ori made another note.

“Who was it?” Ori asked, again keeping his voice even and unthreatening.

Mel didn’t answer, but her narrow mouth tightened and the skin around their eyes washed faintly blue-green.

Ori noted that response too.

“Was it the Empire?” he asked flatly.

“No,” Mel said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“Slavers?”

That earned a much sharper, “No!”

The banded flush along either side of their neck was even more extreme than the one he’d noted after questioning her medical ethics, extending up to their jawline. Both sets of hands clenched hard enough to restrict blood flow and turn their hands a blue that almost faded into the background of the metal table. Almost certainly offense then, probably mixed with at least a little anger.

Ori pressed a little harder, trying to be absolutely sure. “You wouldn’t be the first sentient to trade collusion with their captors for gentler treatment, maybe even a cut of the profits.”

Mel’s narrow lips peeled back, baring rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Perhaps the Yendarri did not have the most expressive facial anatomy or familiar body language, but that expression certainly got the point across. Anger. Offense. Threat.

Ori let the silence stretch out uncomfortably, knowing that most sentients found the blank visor of a trooper’s helmet intimidating, even in the absence of any actual threat.

Mel seemed to remember themselves and made an effort to compose their features again and loosen the death grip on their clenched hands. “I am hungry,” they finally said, very stiffly.

Ori nodded, typing out one final note into his datapad. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The command deck was crowded and tense, even if everyone there was performing to the high levels of professionalism and efficiency that their training back on Kamino had always demanded. There were also at least twice as many troopers in the space as usual, hovering over terminals and datapads. It felt like they were all preparing for a siege.

Ori fervently hoped it didn’t come to that. They weren’t strong enough to weather the Empire’s undivided attention. If it came down to it, the best they could hope for would be to provide enough of a distraction to allow their brothers and the civilians on their island satellite base to escape.

And if Draboon VIII was also compromised, the way they already knew Abainya was? Well, maybe Lady Kryze would be willing to drop them off on some trackless, barren moon in Mandalorian space, assuming she didn’t just write them all off as too much of a security risk to keep alive.

Ori found Jesse and Clip both standing around the holotable speaking with a projection of Captain Rex and Weaver. The sight of the other Guardsmen made something in Ori’s chest clench, but there wasn’t time for that. Duty first.

“…Unclear if using the temple as a retreat of last resort is a good idea,” the Captain was saying when Ori discretely joined the group. “Commander Tano seems to think that it wouldn’t be actively hostile. To us at least.”

That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, or a sentiment Clip shared if his dubious expression was any indication. “Her backup plan is feeding any invading Imps to our haunted temple?” the ARC asked incredulously.

Captain Rex’s projection shrugged, as if this was a completely normal, sane strategy. There had always been rumors about the 501st, but Ori hadn’t quite believed them until after… Well, after.

“Only if we don’t manage an evacuation in time,” the Captain replied. “What’s the status report on organizing that?”

“What have you got for me?” Ori asked quietly, stepping up next to Jesse at the table. He tuned out Clip’s report. That facet of the current situation was exceedingly important, but not, at least for the moment, Ori’s primary responsibility.

Jesse extended a hand for Ori’s datapad and, when he received it, he plugged it into the holotable and started downloading files.

“The woman Malk saw Mel talking to had her hair arranged in a traditional Alderaanian style,” Jesse said over a private comm line. “Weaver asked the Martezes about the prisoner the pirates had been holding for ransom, the one who negotiated for all of them to be delivered to Alderaan. Apparently the name she gave them was Morena Apoporis. Weaver had some of our slicers pull everything they could find off of the holonet and also the Imperial files we can access.” He unplugged the datapad and handed it back to Ori. “Malk tentatively agrees that they could be the same person, but he didn’t get a very good look before the line was cut. She’s some kind of minor noble on Alderaan, heavily involved with the planetary government’s various humanitarian programs. The whole file’s on there, and so is Trip’s report about that run-in his team had with Alderaanian planetary security on Esla Prime.”

That was potentially useful. “You think they’re connected?” Ori asked.

Jesse shrugged. “Maybe? Seems like too much of a coincidence to not look into.”

Ori couldn’t agree more. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in coincidences, but he’d certainly learned not to trust them.

“Where are we stashing the Commander’s special rations on base?” he asked, moving on to the next item on his list.

“Mess walk-in storage, to the left of the regular rations,” Jesse answered, but the sideways glance was judgmental even through the bucket. “Upping your protein intake?” he asked dryly.

“Yendarri are primarily carnivorous, even if they usually go for more aquatic prey than Togrutans.”

“Right.”

The cameras in the corners of the interrogation room were still blinking when Ori returned. Jesse had set two of their comms troopers to babysitting the feed, in case Ori wanted to go back and review anything later. It was standard practice to record everything on his bucket during an interrogation, but sometimes the additional views revealed something he’d missed in the moment.

Mel looked up at his entrance, dark eyes as unreadable as any Kaminoan’s.

Ori made his way over to his side of the table and set down the things he’d scrounged up in the base’s kitchens.

“Hydration packs,” he said, narrating as he pushed each item across the table where Mel could reach them even with the binders still in place. “And three flavors of carnivore-balanced rations. The mess is actually serving some kind of egg and avian casserole today, but I assumed you might appreciate something that is still vac-sealed.”

Mel, who had been reaching for the first pack, suddenly hesitated, the unspoken part of the offer obviously dawning on them. Those interesting bands of cooler blue flickered across their scalp tellingly.

Of course, Ori had no intention of poisoning Mel, just like he had no intention of actually laying a violent hand on them. The trick with the kind of torture methods the Kaminoans had trained all clone troopers to resist was they usually didn’t work. At least not like civilians seemed to think, from their holodramas on the subject. Sure, a physically broken-down prisoner would start talking, but most of the time, it ended up being a confusing mix of actual intel and whatever fabricated nonsense the victim thought their tormentor wanted to hear. Anything to make the pain stop.

So torture was actually highly ineffective, as information gathering methods went. Plus it was distasteful, not to mention highly illegal in the Republic.

Though not in the Empire.

And Ori had no intention of sinking to their level. Not when he could usually get what he wanted through more strategic verbal sparring instead.

And right now, he was trying to build something like a rapport with Mel. It was manipulative, but it worked, and he was good at it: threading the needle between coming off as friendly, but letting the lingering threat of the situation simmer uncomfortably.

Yes, you are a prisoner, but I am choosing to treat you as well as possible.

You should trust me. This could be going so much worse for you.

I just want to talk.

Ori just switched his thermal vision back on and double checked to make sure the camera icon in his HUD was still green, indicating a recording was in progress. It was. Then he folded his hands on the table to intentionally mirror Mel’s previous posture and waited.

Eventually Mel did reach for the allegedly fish-flavored bar and turned it over in their hands, long fingers tracing delicately over the listed ingredients.

“I can’t vouch for the actual flavor, but it should meet your dietary requirements,” Ori said when Mel finally opened the package and sniffed the contents. “If it does not, please let me know, and I’ll see about providing something more appropriate.”

“Thank you,” Mel said quietly, eyes cast down as they took an experimental bite of the bar. It crumbled, dry and chalky in the way most long-term shelf-stable rations tended to be, but they didn’t have an overtly negative reaction to the food, so that seemed promising.

Ori picked up his datapad. He couldn’t approach the topic of Alderaan directly. Not at first, at least. But maybe…

“Is it typical, to travel as much as you did during your surgical internship?” he asked, aiming for a casual tone. Pleasant, if not actually friendly.

I did my research, I know things about you, so I could be trying to catch you in a lie.

But this is a safe enough topic. We’re just making small talk while you eat, and maybe you can use this as an opportunity to feel me out too.

“No,” Mel finally said, after they opened one of the sealed hydration packs and rinsing down the dry, minimally flavored bite of rations. “Most positions are tied to a single facility or planet.”

“I can’t imagine that refugee camps throughout the Outer Rim were the most scenic places to visit,” Ori commented lightly.

Mel’s eyes narrowed slightly, rimmed in cooler blues in Ori’s thermal vision. That might indicate suspicion or distrust? He refrained from noting that down just yet.

After all, they were just talking now. Or at least, that was the impression he was trying to give.

“Some of the planets were beautiful, despite the war,” Mel finally said, taking another bite of their rations.

“I was stationed on Coruscant for almost the entirety of the war,” Ori said, dangling out a small detail about himself like bait. As such things went, this one was harmless enough. It was possible that Mel already knew the significance of his paint color, but that wasn’t, after all, the point.

You’re smart. Probably smarter than me. If you keep me talking, maybe I’ll tell you something you can use as leverage.

But to get that, you’re going to have to keep talking too.

Mel chewed the rations slowly, far more so than was necessary given their mouthful of sharp-edged teeth. Their eyes blinked slowly.

“Would you have preferred to see more of the galaxy, if you were able?” they finally asked.

Ori allowed himself the smallest of sharp smiles, hidden under his bucket.

“I wish I’d gotten to see snow,” he said, letting the smallest thread of honest wistfulness enter his tone. “It only ever rained on Kamino, and the climate on Coruscant was too tightly geoengineered.”

“I was assigned to Saan early in my rotation,” Mel said. “I’m fairly certain it snowed every day I was there. It was lovely, but keeping the temporary hospital warm enough for the equipment to function was a challenge.” Their words started out slowly, as if carefully chosen, but Mel seemed to be relaxing into this small talk. “Exposure was a significant issue in the encampment there, as were attacks by some of the larger local fauna.” Mel placed the rations on the table and reached for a hydration pack. “I had expected to spend more time helping administer vaccinations and distribute supplementary food, but I ended up having to handle a great many trauma cases there.”

Excellent. Now we’re talking. Time to really start this spar.

“You want the good news first, or the possibly bad news?” Reaver asked, easing down onto one of the low couches of the officers’ lounge area Ori had taken over. The rest of the room was empty. Everyone else was either sleeping through the night shift, or furiously organizing an evacuation in case Ori’s investigation came to the worst possible conclusion.

Ori glanced up from the ‘pads he’d laid out on the table. Sometimes it helped, to just spread his data out like this when he was trying to find connections between the datapoints he and his brothers had been gathering. So far, he wasn’t having much luck though. There were too many gaps in his knowledge, even with the pages of notes he’d taken and the files and files of reports his brothers had been scrounging from every source they could find.

“The bad first,” he answered.

“Pessimist,” Reaver said, teasing lightly. It was a relief, that he had finally loosened up around the rest of them. Ori did not relish having to manage himself quite so stringently around brothers, the way he had to around most civilians. “Someone has been attempting to call the surgeon’s comm.”

“I assume you don’t mean the licensing committee from the hospital,” Ori said, leaning back slightly, letting himself sink into the over-stuffed cushions.

“Actually, them too,” Reaver admitted. “But they’ve been using the safehouse’s central line. Lena is handling that.”

Right. Ori rubbed his face with both hands. The rough battleweave caught on a faint shadow of scruff growing on his jawline. He needed to shave. “Do I even want to know?” he finally asked, because kriff. Civilians always seemed to overcomplicate this kind of thing, and while he trusted Lena, he did, he really didn’t want to untangle some political mess with the capital’s hospital.

Assuming the Empire didn’t just drop in with one of their newest model star destroyers and reduce them all to their molecular components within the next planetary rotation or two.

Ori really, really wanted to ask how Lena was doing, because he hadn’t been able to reach out to her since the incident, and he had a terrible suspicion that she wouldn’t be taking all of this very well.

But… duty first.

“Probably not,” Reaver said wryly. “But I actually meant the other comm.”

Meaning the one Mel had used to speak with their contact. Ori just gestured with one hand, inviting Reaver to continue.

“No, it doesn’t seem to have a tracking device or other nasty surprises hiding inside it. That was actually going to be the good bit of news,” Reaver said, leaning forward to prop his forearms on his knees. “But also, it does have a scrambler that’s bouncing its signal through kriff even knows how many intermediaries. So that means Factor is having a hard time trying to slice the signal and trace it back to its origin. But he also says that the way it’s set up, whoever’s on the other end almost certainly can’t trace our location either.”

That was… mixed news at best.

“There’s a very good chance Mel just told whoever’s on the other end our location,” Ori said resignedly. His eyes settled on the stack of datapads on the low table, but he didn’t really see them, eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

This might provide an interesting opportunity though.

Reaver huffed out a sharp sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Ori looked up at him, one eyebrow rising in query.

“You’re thinking about answering it?” the Wadj Captain said. It sounded more like an encouragement than an accusation though.

“It’s risky,” Ori admitted.

“Seizing an entire Imperial base, moving in, and then just keeping it running like business as usual was risky,” Reaver said, sounding deeply unimpressed. “And Factor has already asked permission to load it up with extra scramblers and a voice modulator.”

Force, of course.

“And what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything, Clip told him to run the idea past you, since you’d be the one answering it,” Reaver said, as if that was obvious. Maybe it was. “So expect to get ambushed the next time you’re on the command deck.”

“Right,” Ori said, trailing off.

It was getting awfully late, and the last time Kix had caught him trying to palm some stims from the infirmary had been… memorable. None of the Guard medics had cared that much, back on Coruscant. But then again, the Guard had always played by its own rules.

So, maybe he should just get some more caf instead?

Ori looked up again to find Reaver watching him carefully. “Was there something else?” he finally asked.

“Yeah, Clip wants to know when you’ll be racking out,” Reaver said, sounding a bit more guarded, a bit more diplomatic than he had before.

Which both stung and was probably fair, given that Ori’s initial instinct was to snap back at the insinuation.

“When I’m done here,” Ori finally said. His tone was very flat.

“Clip said you’d say that.”

“Clip can kark right off. I don’t need a minder.”

“Clip said you’d say that too.”

“So what, next you’re going to threaten me with Kix?” That was usually the next page from this very annoying playbook.

“Nah, Jesse dragged him out of the infirmary ages ago. He’s already sleeping,” Reaver answered, sounding more than a little judgmental. Which, kriff it, was probably also fair. Kix had been building a reputation on base for taking absolutely osik care of himself sometimes, even while he demanded better from all of his brothers.

“So, Aughts?” Ori said resignedly.

“Yeah, Aughts.”

Ori muttered a heartfelt curse under his breath, a rather scathing Pantoran insult calling into question the degree of genetic inbreeding present within the target’s familial lineage.

“Fine,” Ori finally said, leaning forward and starting to stack up his datapads. After all, he could always just keep working in his private bunk. Thank kriff for the privileges of command.

“Look, this situation is kriffed. It’s not going to be less kriffed in the morning, no matter how long you stare at those ‘pads,” Reaver said, and then his expression shifted to something a little sharper. “And Lena will be dropping off Mel’s belongings tomorrow, before she ships out, so maybe don’t show up to say goodbye to her looking like you’ve just staggered out of a 72 hour, live-fire sim.”

That was a low blow.

At least Reaver was gracious in his victory. If he laughed at Ori’s stiff-backed retreat, he at least waited until the Guardsman was out of earshot.

“That’s interesting,” Kix said, cocking his head slightly to one side and squinting down at the images on Ori’s datapad.

“What?” Ori said, almost directly into his second cup of caf.

Kix set down the datapad and pointed to one of the thermal images Ori had saved of Mel. “See those stripes? Adult Yendarri are fully terrestrial, but they go through an aquatic juvenile stage. Their gills are lost during puberty, but it looks like they might retain heightened blood flow where those respiratory structures used to be.”

That was… actually pretty interesting, even if the first cup of caf hadn’t quite finished working its way through Ori’s system. “So, flushing there is like, what? Like instinctively gasping for air?” Some species did that as a fight or flight response, to get more oxygen to their muscles or something.

Force, the cobbled together investigation and interrogation courses the Coruscant Guard had made for itself had never felt like enough, but this was next level.

“Probably,” Kix said, taking a sip from his own cup of caf, flipping through a few more of the images, and then pointing again. “And this one? The banding along the top and sides of their head? Yendarri have sort of fin-like crests down their heads and backs during their aquatic stage. When they’re relaxed, they naturally stand up, but when they’re frightened or agitated, they can flatten the crests down against their bodies.”

So yeah, that all kind of tracked with what Ori thought he’d been observing. Those were pretty kriffing useful tells.

“And how were Mel’s previous patients?” Ori asked, when Kix just kept flipping back and forth between the images, scowling distractedly at the thermal patterns. Ori was sure it was all terribly interesting from a purely anatomical standpoint, but he was on a bit of a tight schedule here.

He did feel slightly guilty, at how that question immediately tossed a wet blanket over Kix’s comparatively good mood. “Everyone I’ve checked has been fine, so far,” the medic admitted, not that his expression grew any less thunderous at what should have been good news. “I’m seeing eleven more brothers today. That should be everyone except Echo. His team is on a comms blackout right now, but I think they’d only gotten to the assessment phase before he left.”

Well, that was something. None of that did a karking thing for the brothers who had been on a waitlist for more involved surgeries, but at least nobody was walking around with a tracking chip or an explosive hidden in a medical device.

Small mercies.

“Let me know if any of that changes as you work through today’s appointments,” Ori said, gathering up his caf and the datapad Kix had dropped back down on his desk. “Do you want copies of those thermal photos?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kix said, but he mostly sounded angry again, instead of intrigued.

Ori figured he’d be in the same position, in Kix’s boots.

Their CMO had been one of the first brothers to trust Mel, had actually vouched for them to the rest of the command structure. And all evidence at the time had pointed to him being correct to do so. Several of the troopers sent on the Abainya mission were only alive because a second trained medic had been on hand to put them back together.

Having a civilian surgeon available to provide access to more advanced medical equipment and public hospital facilities would have been a major coup for them.

Maybe they’d all been blinded by the possibilities.

And now Ori’s own stomach was curdling too, just thinking about it.

“Kix, none of this is your fault,” Ori said, for about the fifteenth time. And he meant it, just like he had the last fourteen.

“Right,” Kix said, looking away from Ori and reaching for one of his own datapads on the cluttered office he’d commandeered near the base’s infirmary. “I’ll let you know if anything changes, but I’ve got work to do.”

That was a pretty clear dismissal.

The base was eerily quiet. Reaver and Clip had been organizing shuttle flights all night, shuttling non-essential personnel out to the islands and non-combatants off planet completely. Ori dropped off his empty caf cup in the nearly deserted mess and then went in search of Jesse.

He found the 501st ARC in the base’s courtyard, waiting in the half-dark of pre-dawn.

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on Kix,” Ori said as he walked up to join Jesse.

Jesse just grimaced. “Yeah, I got that,” he said, sounding more than a little resigned. “He’s blaming himself again.”

“Weaver and I were the ones who did Mel’s background search,” Ori said flatly, looking out over the base’s half-empty courtyard. Only a few brothers were in sight, prepping one of the shuttles for use.

“I know,” Jesse said with a resigned sigh. “And we both know there wasn’t anything to find, so don’t you start too. They looked clean.”

Ori’s head knew that was correct. His gut wasn’t fully convinced.

Jesse took one look at Ori’s face and made an uncomplimentary noise under his breath, but he didn’t immediately say anything either.

They were both painfully aware of the price of this mistake.

They could have done so much with this base. With this planet. Despite their precautions, Ori wasn’t ready to give it up quite yet.

“I read your notes last night. Anything to add to them?” Jesse finally asked.

“Lena is dropping off all of Mel’s belongings,” Ori said. “I doubt I’ll find much useful among the items, but I may be able to leverage them on an emotional level.”

That earned Ori another brief, if heavy, side-eyed glance from Jesse.

Ori knew that he was often… cold while he was working a case. He needed to be, to cut through the heightened emotions and get at the underlying truth. But he’d learned that talking about it much, even with his brothers from the GAR, often made some of them uncomfortable, so he tended to not show this side of him to anyone except another Guardsman.

Except, he was the only Guardsman on Wadj. And brooding over that fact wasn’t going to do anything to help solve the immediate problem.

He took a breath and made an effort to appear more relaxed and approachable. He wasn’t sure how well it actually worked, because Jesse just heaved another sigh and said, “I hope it works.”

Ori did too.

They hadn’t been waiting five minutes before the base’s main gate rattled to life and slid open to let a familiar civilian vehicle into the courtyard.

Two brothers were in the driver’s compartment, the cowls of their loose-fitting robe still pulled up to conceal their faces. While one stayed in the cab for a moment, releasing the seals on the cargo compartment in the back and then powering the speeder down, the other, went ahead and hopped out of the vehicle to open the door for the passengers.

Ris was the first out, herding Aiva ahead of her, then Ieyas and Zora carrying two fabric bags, then Lena.

It took a moment for Ori to realize that no one else was getting out of the speeder, and that was only partially because of the distracting way Lena was smiling at him.

Neither Vesk nor Vait were here.

Once the two troopers pulled back their cowls, revealing Spark and Malk, Buckler was conspicuously absent as well.

Well, that answered that question.

“The twins are staying?” Ori asked, stepping forward to help unload the crates from the back of the speeder. That his path put him right next to Lena was their business, and Jesse could kriff off with that knowing look.

“I’m surprised you can’t hear them fighting with Buckler from here,” Lena said, dropping the rear lift gate so Ori and Ieyas could reach for one of the larger crates.

Ori could just imagine.

Buckler was ferociously protective of those boys, but apparently cadets were cadets, whether naturally born or artificially decanted, and anyone with eyes could see that the twins were spoiling for an excuse to test their training against a real enemy.

Ori had been no different, fresh off of Kamino. He knew better now.

He and Ieyas set the crate down on the speeder’s fold-out hovercart and turned back to the rest of the cargo. There wasn’t much. “With any luck, this should be temporary,” he said to Lena, but perfectly aware that the others were listening in as well.

“Do you really think that?” Lena asked quietly, grabbing a heavy duffle and swinging it on top of the previous crate.

Zora and Spark were already wrestling the last of the largest crates out of the back of the transport, so Ori had no qualms about guiding Lena to one side, hands hovering awkwardly without actually touching her, because he still was not entirely sure of the expectations and boundaries between them.

“We are not certain, but we strongly suspect that Mel was contacting one of the other prisoners from Abainya,” Ori admitted, trying to be as honest with her as he could. “The real issue is that we have no way of knowing much about that sentient’s motivations or who else they might have told about us.”

Given what they did know, he was fairly certain that neither Mel nor Apoporis would voluntarily involve themselves with slavers or pirates, but the chances of Imperial connections remained very high. Humanitarian groups, like the ones Morena Apoporis championed, often received funding from a variety of governmental agencies. Some were run on a planetary or sector scale, holdovers from the Republic system, organizations so entrenched that while portions of their funding stream still flowed from Coruscant, they were largely independent and insulated from the shift to Imperial rule. But others were now headed up by Palpatine appointees who had been granted prestigious, well-paying positions in exchange for complete loyalty. Any of that type could and would report the existence of a rogue group of clone troopers to likeminded politicians and members of the Imperial military.

Therein lay the potential danger. None of them really knew on which side of that barrier Apoporis was camped.

And frankly, Mel most likely didn’t know either. Even though they’d been working for a Republic holdover, Imperial organization in the Refugee Relief Coalition themself, an intern wouldn’t have been rubbing elbows, or other appendages, with the political elites.

Probably.

Thus the ‘temporary’ evacuation orders.

“Yeah, that’s…” Lena stopped and then exhaled, slowly and controlled, clearly shifting mental gears. “How is Mel? You’re not…” she trailed off awkwardly, but the implication was pretty kriffing clear.

Ori pulled back, knowing his expression had shuttered and not really able or willing to rein in that instinctive response to the accusation. “They are currently sitting in a reasonably well-appointed holding cell, eating a breakfast our CMO confirms meets their species’ nutritional requirements. We had a pleasant conversation yesterday about their posting on Saan.”

“Saan?” Lena said.

“An icy moon in the Outer Rim,” Ori responded coldly. An oppressive silence hung between them, tense and awkward. Finally, Ori turned more fully to face Lena and said, “I haven’t laid a hand on them.”

“Force, Ori,” Lena said, eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant.”

Had she not?

Kriff, maybe she hadn’t. Whatever this was between them, this relationship, was so new he still hadn’t quite figured out how it was supposed to work. And frankly, he’d never had much experience dealing with civilians he wasn’t supposed to be protecting, interrogating, or shooting.

Especially uncommonly pretty ones who always had time for a kind smile or supportive advice for all of Ori’s brothers.

It made him misread cues, because he was so used to looking for lies and threats.

“I apologize,” he said stiffly. Kriff it all, she was getting ready to fly back to Draboon for who even knew how long, and here he was sticking his boot in osik with her because he just couldn’t react to anything like a normal sentient.

“No, Force, that’s not…” she stopped mid-thought again and blew out another breath. “We’re going to have to work on this, huh? I don’t even know what I meant. I guess just that I thought Mel and I were getting to be friends, so I can’t help worrying about them, but then they did this, and I can’t even figure out why. It’s stupid.”

Some of the stiff tension went out of Ori’s shoulders, because that, at least, was something he could completely understand. “Our CMO is inside beating himself up for exactly the same reason, so no, it’s not particularly stupid.”

“Oh, Kix,” Lena said, pulling a sad, frustrated face. “I’d ask you to give him a hug from me, but…”

“But I’d probably get skewered for the attempt,” Ori said dryly.

“Yeah, that.” And then Lena caught Ori completely by surprise by going up on her tiptoes and brushing a quick kiss against his cheek. “Just, stay safe, ok? All of you.”

Ori blinked at her stupidly until she grinned at his reaction. It made the corners of her dark eyes crinkle.

Kriff it.

The press of her forehead against his was warm and grounding. “I’ll do my best.”

“I think your brothers are taking holos of us,” Lena whispered, but he was inordinately thankful when she didn’t pull away.

“I’ll kill them later.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

He sighed after a long moment and finally broke contact.

“You should head to the shuttle,” he said, hating to have to say that, but the sooner she left, the sooner she and the others would be safe. Or at least as safe as they currently could be.

“Yeah,” Lena agreed, looking over her shoulder.

Sure enough, Malk and most of the civilians were grinning at them.

Jesse was too, even though he was wearing his bucket. Ori could just tell.

“You stay safe too,” Ori said awkwardly.

“All I have to worry about is Mandalorian politics, I’ll be fine,” Lena said with a small smile, but it was pretty obvious that she was just trying to put on a brave front for him.

Ori didn’t call her on it.

But Sith-damned hells, he hated watching her walk away.

“So…” Jesse started to say, once Malk had fired the speeder’s engines back up to return to the safehouse and Lena had disappeared out of view up the shuttle’s ramp, along with Spark and the rest of the civilians.

“Think about what you’re about to say very carefully,” Ori said flatly.

Jesse held up his hands in mock surrender and tapped the duffle bag at his feet with one boot. “This is Mel’s stuff,” he said instead.

Smart choice.

Ori didn’t stick around to watch the shuttle take off. He just couldn’t, it made something dangerous coil down his spine. Wadj wasn’t supposed to be just another pit stop before the galaxy uprooted them all again. It was supposed to be safe, that was the entire kriffing point of risking so much to come here.

He wasn’t sure what he looked like, storming through the base with Mel’s half-empty ruck sack in hand, but every brother he encountered quickly got the kriff out of his way.

There was a small conference room near the base’s small brig which Ori had taken over for the duration of this investigation. Ori shut and secured the door, placed the duffle bag on the table, and got to work.

Lena had cared enough to neatly fold everything and pack it carefully.

That did very little to lighten Ori’s mood.

Three surprisingly colorful sets of clothing; a clearly secondhand, thickly-padded quilt and matching pillow; two pairs of sandals that clearly hadn’t been designed for a human-shaped foot; a standard first aid kit with several specialized additions which had clearly been scavenged from Wadj’s markets, or maybe the pirate’s storerooms back on Abainya; a rainbow-hued wall tapestry; a set of nesting bowls and utensils; a pouch of personal hygiene items; a rather battered-looking holopad with a few novels loaded on it.

It seemed like there should have been more.

But then again, Mel had only recently been freed from slavery. They hadn’t exactly had much time to amass more personal effects.

Maybe that should have sparked a little extra sympathy in Ori. It didn’t, and maybe that didn’t say anything good about him, but it was difficult to not keep spiraling back to the fact to that betrayal was a pretty osik’la way to repay the sentients who had rescued Mel from that.

Ori pressed his hands against the surface of the table and forced himself to just breathe, to focus. He could use these things, he just needed to be smart about it.

The base’s holding cells were kept under the same environmental conditions as the rest of the base, with temperature and air circulation meant for human to near-human comfort levels. The biological profile Kix had provided on Yendarri said that they typically lived in more tropical climates, and Mel certainly hadn’t seemed particularly fond of the cold from their reminiscence about their posting on Saan.

Mel was not giving any signs of being at risk for self-harm, so the cell was already outfitted with thin, synthetic sheets and a minimally padded mattress. They were most likely cold, given their species tolerances. Extra bedding was an acceptable risk, and if it was presented with the correct emotional context, it might prompt a useful response.

And Lena had been correct. Mel had been forming friendships with several of the clones and civilians on Wadj. Ori had observed enough of their previous interactions to determine that those, at least, had not been completely faked.

Ori carefully folded up the quilt, stacked the pillow on top of it, and headed for the cells.

Plex was on guard duty this morning, sitting in the small surveillance room and watching Mel on the video feed. He looked up when Ori opened the door.

“Anything to report?” Ori asked from the doorway.

“They finished eating about fifteen minutes ago,” Plex replied. “Same as the previous interactions, they were compliant with orders and quiet.”

“Right,” Ori said. None of that changed his current strategy, so, “I need you to spot me while I bring these to the prisoner. And I’ll need to talk to them afterwards.”

Plex looked at the colorful bedding in Ori’s hands, raised a single eyebrow, but instead of asking any questions, he just shrugged and said, “Sure,” reaching for his helmet and blaster rifle.

There was a protocol to this, the same as there had been for meals. Plex went into the brig first and ran through the script:

“Please stand and move to the colored square on the floor.”

“Please place both sets of your hands behind your head and turn to face the wall.”

“Please do not move from this position until instructed to do so.”

Only after all of that did Plex buzz Ori into the brig.

The hallway of cells was certainly cleaner than the ones back in the Coruscant central detention facility. Sterile, in a way that suggested that they’d only rarely been used. Mel was standing in the opposite corner of the cell from the small fresher and its semi-translucent privacy screen, back turned so that they could not see Ori’s approach.

Plex kept the watch as Ori walked into the cell, placed the bedding on the narrow cot, and then picked up the tray of empty dishes, leftover from their morning meal.

Upon leaving the cell again, he simply placed the tray on the floor, next to the exit and removed his helmet. Much as he would have preferred having the visual clues his thermal settings could provide, he was attempting to elicit a specific emotional response here: guilt and perhaps sympathy rather than intimidation or fear. And most civilians seemed better able to empathize with an organic face than with an anonymous helmet.

Ori tucked his bucket under his arm and stood in front of the cell. Plex was already reactivating the ray shield, which snapped back into place with a faint hum. Plex sent him a questioning look, to which Ori responded by signing, ‘Dismissed. Observe and record.’

Plex shouldered his blaster rifle with a sharp nod and announced, “You are free to return to your previous activities,” finishing the prescribed script. And then he left the room, heading back to his security post.

Mel lowered their arms and turned, the trajectory of their movement bringing the colorful bedding into view before they spotted Ori himself. They froze, staring for a moment. Ori noticed that their fingers twitched and her dark eyes blinked very slowly.

“Lena dropped off your belongings this morning,” Ori said, and Mel’s head abruptly swiveled in his direction, finally noticing him. They blinked again, a bit more quickly.

“She asked me how you were doing,” Ori said flatly, trying to prompt an opening.

Mel nodded. Ori noted that their narrow mouth thinned slightly, but they did eventually ask, “How is she?”

There.

“She’s gone,” Ori said, letting the faintest trace of his real feelings bleed into his response.

Mel blinked, opened their mouth for a moment, shut it in obvious thought, and then asked, “What do you mean?”

“It isn’t safe here for the civilians anymore,” he answered, and if he sounded a little angry, a little accusatory, a little anguished, well, that was just part of the act. Right? “We are evacuating them all off-planet until such a time as we can determine the threat your contact poses.”

That elicited an obvious flinch. Good.

Good.

Ori nodded, willing to let them stew in that knowledge for the next few hours. Maybe that would soften them up. He could return after midmeal and pick up where they had left off.

He had bent to pick up the tray when Mel spoke.

“She said she wanted to help,” they whispered.

Ori left the tray on the floor and straightened slowly.

Mel had stepped as close to the ray shield as they safely could. Their eyes were huge, all four hands twisted together.

He didn’t speak, he just looked at her, waiting for that first crack to spread.

“She works with a sentient resettlement organization out of Alderaan,” Mel continued, hands pressed against their chest like a plea. “Their public mission statement only mentions refugees, but they also take in slaves and… other victims of sentient rights violations.”

They hesitated, so Ori stepped a little closer to the ray shield himself. “Sounds harmless enough,” he prompted, as gently as he could manage. He wasn’t entirely successful.

Mel’s eyes dropped, but they kept talking.

“The pirates let me treat any prisoners they were holding for ransom, so we spoke a little. In private. After your people arrived and we were both freed, she told me there had been rumors about a group of clones who were freeing slaves all across the Outer Rim, but there wasn’t anything on the official government records. And there were other attacks too. Ones that… didn’t involve slaves.”

“No, there were slaves,” Ori said quietly, because this… this could twist the knife a little further, and hopefully more actionable intel would bleed out. “We briefed you on the chips. Every single one of my brothers still in Imperial service is a slave.”

“She didn’t know, I didn’t know!” Mel’s said, their breaths turning shallow and quick.

Ori would bet credits that if he’d been watching this through thermals, the bands down the sides of their throat would be lit up like signposts.

“So you agreed to spy on us, to see if we were who she suspected we might be?” Ori asked, voice far more composed this time.

“Yes. She said her backers would want to help you, if you could be trusted.”

“And are we?” Ori asked. “Are we what she expected?”

Mel kept talking, the cracks in the dam growing wider, more and more details spilling out between them. Reports back to their contact extoling the work the clones were doing. Mel’s efforts to establish friendly contacts for backchannel communication to the senior command. Asset development. Their entire organization was being scouted.

When the flow of information trickled to a stop, Ori calmly thanked Mel for their cooperation. And as soon as the brig door closed behind him, he took off at a dead sprint, opening a comm line to the command center as he ran.

It was Jesse who answered.

“Get Commander Tano and Captain Rex on the line,” he said harshly, tearing around a corner of the hallway. Two brothers scattered, flattening themselves against opposing walls to try to make a path. “I need to report to them as of five minutes ago.”

AN: Previous chapters are available here.

Dividers by @freesia-writes using helmets by @lornaka. More designs available here.

[tealmisthams]

Can I request fivesoka and “one kiss isn’t enough” for the mistletoe prompts 👀💕

Thanks for this request! I enjoyed writing this one so much! 😁

Also tagging @ahsokathegray, since you also requested this prompt for Fivesoka. I am planning to write this prompt for them again, so I'll answer your ask then!

Hope you enjoy! 💙

It's also here on AO3.

--

79’s had always been bright and colorful, in keeping with the tone of Coruscant night life, but Ahsoka really hadn’t expected the establishment to sport Life Day decorations. A massive green wreath hung over the entrance and strings of multi-colored lights decorated the exterior of the building, including the doorway. Inside, the same colorful lights outlined the bar and tables, and other various lights, plants, and sparkly ornaments were sprinkled throughout the bar.

Her friends in the 501st had invited her out for drinks that evening. It was the first time their leave had lined up since she was promoted to general and officially transferred to the 332nd. She was excited to see the troopers she had worked alongside for so long, but there was one man in particular who she was looking forward to reuniting with.

As soon as the blue and white armor came into view, a chorus of greetings flooded her montrals. She couldn’t help the joyful grin that spread across her face as she slid into the booth beside Fives. With how many people were squeezed into the booth, it was a bit of a tight fit, so it only made sense for her to sit close enough for their legs to press together.

His amber eyes locked on her blue ones for a heartbeat before she turned to the rest of the troopers.

The clones and their former commander quickly caught up, exchanging battle stories and developments in a few of the guys’ personal lives. Then Ahsoka commented on 79’s unexpected Life Day decor and their conversation shifted to their surroundings.

“There’s even mistletoe hanging in some of the corners,” Echo pointed out. He nodded towards a vacant corner near their table and Ahsoka was able to spot the green plant with white berries hanging from the ceiling.

“Interesting. Any of you guys get a kiss tonight?” she asked, raising her eyebrow markings suggestively.

She wasn’t quite sure what she expected the response to be. Jesse and Kix both raised a hand and then, to her surprise, Tup shyly raised his fingers as well.

“Good for you, Tup!” Ahsoka leaned across the table to offer him a fist bump.

“Hey, what about me?” Jesse whined.

“Fine,” she chucked, offering her fist. “Good job, Jesse.”

“How about you, General?” Hardcase asked. “You going to kiss someone?”

“Maybe you should kiss Fives,” Jesse burst out, before she could answer. “Normally he’d have gotten ten kisses by now, but the lazy di’kut hasn’t even tried.”

“Hey, I could’ve gotten a kiss if I wanted one,” Fives protested.

“Maybe you should prove it then,” Hardcase challenged. “How about it, General?”

Now the entire table was staring at her, except for Fives, who was making an effort to specifically not look in her direction. Normally she wouldn’t participate in traditions like this, but… She couldn’t help casting a glance at the man next to her.

“I suppose,” she agreed, feigning reluctance. “Is that okay with you, Fives?”

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged, like it didn’t matter one way or the other.

“Don’t be too eager now, you guys,” Jesse teased, sarcastically.

Neither Ahsoka nor Fives acknowledged him as they stood and made their way over to the nearest mistletoe.

“They have no idea, do they?” Ahsoka asked, lowering her voice so only Fives could hear.

“Nope.” The ARC’s mouth spread into a half-grin. “Not sure if I’m thankful or offended that no one actually asked why I stayed in my seat all night.”

“I appreciate that.” She knew Fives’ reputation for frequent hookups as well as anyone or at least the reputation he’d had before they became a couple.

“Did you expect anything less?” His voice was teasing, but she saw the way his amber eyes flickered earnestly.

“Of course not,” she reassured him, softly.

“Hey!” Both of their heads jerked in the direction of their table as Jesse called out. “Are you two going to kiss or what?”

Fives flicked a rude gesture at his brother, while Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Then they turned back to each other.

She wasn’t sure how they were going to play this. No one knew about their relationship, aside from Echo, and she wasn’t sure if now was the time to reveal it. Maybe it would be best to just kiss quickly, for show.

Ahsoka was opening her mouth to suggest that course of action, when Fives stepped in and kissed her. The instant their lips touched, she felt warmth spread through her body. He was already wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, while his other hand cupped her cheek. She instinctively lifted her arms over his shoulders. She knew the confidence of their movements were absolutely not indicative of a first kiss, but as Fives ran his tongue along her lower lip, she realized that she didn’t care in the slightest.

“Kriff, I missed you,” Fives said, when they broke apart for a heartbeat.

“I missed you too.” Ahsoka was practically cut off as he pressed his lips to hers again.

One of her hands found its way up into his hair, pulling him farther into her. He responded eagerly, using the arm around her hips to press her flush against him. She probably could have kissed him forever, but after several long minutes, their kisses began to taper off. Fives pressed one more soft kiss to her cheek before loosening his hold on her.

Figuring their relationship was sufficiently revealed, they threaded their fingers together as they walked back to their table.

Fives’ brothers were silent as he and Ahsoka sat back down; all of them were staring at the couple, frozen with shock. All except for Echo, who was cackling madly.

--

I was gifted this beautiful Fivesoka art to go with these drabbles. Go take a look! 💙🧡

Mistletoe Drabble requests are currently CLOSED, but stay tuned for more drabbles that have yet to be posted! ✨

[sergeantgoggles]

I have another!

🤍 for Cody/ Kix

Sorry it took so long! I'm getting to everything in my askbox slowly, I promise!

Anyway, 🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone.

This is maybe a little less what we were going for, but I was really feeling this scenario and ran with it. (Don't worry, there's still smooches, lmao!)

“It is tradition that the bride’s father walks her down the aisle,” General Obi-Wan Kenobi said wistfully over the rim of his teacup and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Not to point out the obvious, General, but I don’t think either of us would be considered a bride,” Commander Cody countered over his own cup. “Not to mention, we’re clones, Sir. We don’t exactly have parents.”

He trailed off, staring into his black tea and thinking he might like it with more milk. “The closest any of us really came to having someone to fall back on is maybe a commanding officer, or our Generals.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Do you consider me a father figure, Cody?”

Cody chuckled off his quickly rising blush and poured a generous amount of milk into the tea before tasting it again. Good, but it needed something else. Honey, perhaps. “I…perhaps, in a sense. You were a better role model than the Kaminoans, if nothing else, but I don’t think General Skywalker is father material, if you catch my drift.”

The General laughed, setting his cup down and sliding the honey over to his Commander. “I see what you mean. Perhaps not, but if asked, he would do it with enthusiasm.”

Shaking his head, Cody took the honey, and again, used a generous amount to sweeten it. “I don’t doubt that, but I don’t see that it’s necessary for this. We clones are far from traditional in most cases.”

“Be that as it may, I know Kix. He may be a level head in the field or on duty, but he likes to be as integrated as possible in his surroundings,” Obi-Wan commented and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “The war is over, Cody. Clone rights are being fought for in the Senate as we speak, with Senator Chuchi heading the campaign. She is young, but I believe with enough support, there will be tremendous compensation for the men, including you and Kix. He’ll want a home, I’m sure. Somewhere to settle down and learn who you are outside of the war wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Cody sighed, nodding. “I know, and he does, and it’s what he deserves.”

“What you both deserve,” Obi-Wan corrected. “You both fought in the war, and you both made it out. A wedding is something to celebrate. Whatever the two of you decide, I want you to know that you will have mine and Anakin’s full support, as your former Generals, and as friends.”

A bright smile tugged on Cody’s lips, both from Obi-Wan’s words and finding the perfect mix of milk and honey to make this tea perfect. He was right, after all. Kix would want to follow at least some of the traditions of a nat-born wedding. Maybe General Skywalker wasn’t the best choice, but…

.

“Walk him…down the aisle?”

“It’s a nat-born tradition,” Cody explained. “Like, someone who cares about him is trusting him to another to take care of him.”

Across from Cody, Rex smirked. “I already trusted you with him, and here you are, days from your wedding. You made sure he made it to the end of the war.”

Cody shook his head. “I did what I could when we were stationed together, but he was in Torrent Company, Rex. He is one of yours. You kept him safe when I couldn’t.”

A moment of silence passed between them. The same couldn’t be said for some of their men, but they’d done their best over the years. After barely any more consideration, Rex sighed.

“Yeah, of course I will, if that’s what he wants.”

.

Being the Marshal Commander came with perks. For starters, his General was Obi-Wan Kenobi, the master negotiator who had a way with words that allowed their ceremony to take place just outside the Jedi temple. The veranda was full of men from both battalions, and several star cruisers hovered nearby to get an overhead view.

The only view that mattered, however, was the vision of Kix in a tailored white jacket and fitted collared shirt, a cobalt blue tie, and white dress slacks. His lightning bolts were freshly shorn into his hair, and Rex stood proudly beside him, arms hooked together as he escorted his soon-to-be husband down the path with 212th and 501st men on either side.

“Nervous?” Obi-Wan asked, grinning ear to ear at his Commander as he bounced on his heels. It was rare that Cody was so excited for anything that wasn’t fisticuffs with a battle droid, but Kix just seemed to bring out a side of him that so few got to see. They locked eyes, and suddenly Kix was all he could see. Kix was everything. His past, present, and future were all in the hands of the man that was smiling back at him as he approached.

“To be honest, General, I’ve never felt more alive.”

As Kix and Rex came to a stop beside him, Rex grinned at his Chief Medical Officer and hugged him tightly before turning to Cody and doing the same.

“I did my duty,” Rex whispered with a smile. “Now, it’s your turn. Keep him safe.”

“I promise,” Cody whispered back, and held Rex a second longer before letting him join the rest of his rowdy group right in front.

Kix’s cheeks were painted a gorgeous shade of red that looked stunning against the blue accents on him, and Cody couldn’t help himself. Obi-Wan had said that, traditionally, you had to exchange vows before you kissed your bride, but Kix was no bride, and well, maybe clones needed to make a tradition of their own.

Strong arms pulled Kix flush, and their lips met with a surge of excitement and passion that could have electrified an entire battalion of droids. Finally, it all had come down to this point in time, this moment, this kiss. He felt Kix laugh into his mouth, but not pull away.

Whatever happened from this day on, as long as he had Kix, he could take on the entire galaxy a hundred times over.

[obixwan]

it’s always been you for @tecker and @cloneficgiftexchange

pairings: rex x reader

blurb: Rex reassures you about your relationship.

word count: 850 ish

warnings: relationship troubles, unedited writing lol

notes: oh my gosh im so sorry tecker ! I’m sorry its late and its crappy but i struggled with this one so much i hardly ever write for rex but i hope you love it!! <3

masterlist // join my updated taglist // ao3 link

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

It’s early when he receives the message.

0700. Urgent. Meet me.

He’s sitting at the breakfast table when his communicator pings with a notification but he quickly swipes it away making sure no one else can see it. He ignores everyone’s questions and queries when he stands up from the breakfast table, claiming he’s finally caught the bug that’s been making rounds around the barracks.

“Some bug,” Jesse says, “If the captain with strengthened immunity can catch it.”

Rex is about to bite back a response but he decides that he doesn’t owe Jesse an answer when it comes to this, so he only rolls his eyes and abandons his breakfast of sweet honey toast and makes his way to the med bay.

Kix is taking a stock count when Rex walks in and when Rex asks to sign him off for a day with the flu, Kix doesn’t ask any questions. He shakes the medic's hand with gratitude and then he makes his way through the city, head down, strides long, until he reaches the Jedi temple.

His footsteps are quiet, muffled on the carpeted floors of the temple. He knows these halls like the back of his hands. They’re cold and dull. They’re sterile and sanitised and if they could talk, Rex knows what they would say. Disgusting, undutiful, traitorous, wrong. The dull grey paint blurs walls into walls and before Rex knows it, he’s at the door that leads to the usual meeting point.

And just like every other secret meeting, Rex meets you in a forgotten meditation room that he knows off by heart too. Many nights have been spent here, sat on the long meditation benches, cuddled into one another or just talking. Watching the temple gardens and the waterfall through the one way viewing window, whispering to one another. The room, despite its hostile location, has become somewhat of a retreat for the both of you.

But as well as he knows these walls and that room, he knows you better. And as soon as the door seals behind him, he doesn’t even need to look at your trembling lip to know you’ve been crying. The air in the room is thick with emotion, so much so Rex can hardly breathe himself.

He sits with you on the bench seat and pulls you into his body, soothing your hair until your tears start to fall again and your shoulders are heaving with the effort of the sobs that are torn from your body.

He sits with you for what could have been hours. There’s no way to tell the passing of time in these rooms unless you have a watch or a time piece on you but Rex doesn’t mind. The outside world melts away when it’s just the two of you and the sounds of the waterfall.

When your sobs quiet and your breathing evens out, he holds you at arms length, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are bright, the way only tears can make them so. Your skin is raw and blotchy and bright but Rex thinks you look just as lovely as always.

“Ready to talk to me now, lovely?” Rex asks. As much as he wishes he could read your mind, take in your auror, he is no jedi.

Your bottom lip trembles again as Rex’s hand pushes back your hair from your face, coming to rest on your cheek. “We can’t keep doing this.” You say, another tear dripping down your face. “We are hurting everyone we love, Betraying everything we hold dear by being together.”

His heart breaks but this is not the first time these thoughts have entered your relationship. But the last time, you’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks and he thought this would blow over in a few short weeks. He had reassured you, held you the whole hyperspace journey home to Coruscant, despite the risk you could’ve been found. But here they are a year and a half into seeing each other and these worries are still rearing their heads.

Rex wonders for a brief moment in general Skywalker and senator Amidala have to combat these sorts of insecurities too. But then he decides that they probably don’t because even if they were found out, the worst that would happen is they’d both be fired and exiled from their respective positions. Rex on the other hand… well… it probably wouldn’t be as happy an ending for him. He would be labelled a traitor and he'd be killed by firing squad.

He pulls you into his body again, rubbing soothing patterns onto your skin, and playing with your hair the way he knows you like, that puts you at ease. “It’s always been you.” He whispers. “We don’t do this for anyone else.” He says, “Just us. It’s just for us. It is selfish, but it’s war, cyar’ika, we are allowed something for us.”

It’s enough to soothe you, enough to let you cuddle in closer to his warmth and his strength. Enough to make you settle into his love.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

A/N: Doing something (a little) different this time! Kix is one of my all-time favorite clones, partly because of his relationship with Jessie, Hardcase, Fives, and the other 501st. Hoping I did him and Jessie justice!

By the time Jessie made it back to camp, his feet dragged, and his arms felt as heavy as lead.  His armor, usually pure white and well-maintained, was coated from helmet to boots in a thick layer of mud, that must have added at least five kilos to its overall weight.  If he didn’t know him better than anyone in the galaxy, even Kix wouldn’t have been able to recognize the blue Republic cog in the center of his helmet, it was so well-hidden underneath the dirt and grime of battle.

Kix…

An extra jolt of energy filled Jessie’s body as he remembered spotting Kix halfway across the battlefield, with an injured trooper slung haphazardly across his shoulders.  That had been hours ago now, shortly before General Skywalker had ordered them to fall back, and he had seen no sign of him since. Perhaps it was a good thing, perhaps it just meant that Kix had made it back to base earlier and was too busy caring for the wounded to be seen anywhere but the medical tent. 

But anxiety gnawed at Jessie’s stomach as others went about setting up triage in the camp.  He took a seat on one of the nearby crates, where he could view all of the happenings, the comings and goings, between each of the tents.  Medics and logistics wove between stragglers returning from the battlefield.  Clones clustered together in exhausted groups, .  It was all too familiar a process, and when a medic stopped by him briefly to ask if he were injured, all he could do was shake his head.  The frazzled clone made a quick note on his datapad, before he started to leave.

“Wait,” Jessie called after him, and the trooper froze, turned to Jessie, mildly agitated.  “You haven’t seen Kix in the med tent, have you? CT-6116?”

“I know Kix,” the trooper said tersely. He paused, then shook his head. “Sorry. I haven’t.”

Jessie’s stomach sank even lower, probably somewhere down in his boots.  Absently, he thanked the unfamiliar trooper, who rushed off to continue his job.  He couldn’t blame him. There were plenty of other clones waiting uselessly for their brothers to return.  Jessie just hoped he wasn’t waiting for nothing.

The hours seemed to drag by slower than any others Jessie had ever experienced.  At some point, Hardcase had passed by, looking much less exuberant than usual.  It wasn’t until he sat down next to Jessie that he even realized it was him, his armor was so caked in mud.

“That was some battle, huh brother?” He asked as he removed his helmet and set it down casually in his lap.

“Kix hasn’t come back yet.”

“Huh? Not—” Hardcase looked about, as if Kix would suddenly walk out from behind one of the tents, and everything would be alright. “You haven’t heard from him at all?”

Jessie shook his head. “Our long-range comms are being jammed, remember?  That’s why the retreat order took so long to reach us on the front line.  It’s all because of that blasted Seperatist communications tower this whole mess is about.”

“Ah…” A silence fell between them as Jessie stared at the muddy ground, and Hardcase bounced a knee up and down.  Eventually, it seemed Hardcase couldn’t stand the quiet. “Well… if I see him, I’ll let you know,” he said, before scooping up his helmet, rotary blaster, and disappearing into the bustle of the camp.

It wasn’t for another hour or so, when the trickle of returning clones had thinned significantly and he was considering approaching one of them about his brother, that he saw a familiar flash of red amongst the muddied whites and blues.  Immediately, he wheeled about, and relief hit him like a tidal wave as he recognized the patterns, barely visible, but there all the same.

“Kix!”  He rushed over to his brother, whose helmet was already hanging limply from his right hand.  His face was weary, smeared with blood and dirt.  When Jessie looked again, it looked like there was more blood than anything else.  So much blood…  Whose blood, though?  “Are you alright? Were you—?”

“I’m alright, Jessie,” Kix said dully; his sounded voice even more exhausted than he looked. Jessie opened his mouth to argue, to insist that he take a break, see another medic, at least eat something before he inevitably went back to work, but his brother sighed, gaze dropping to his boots. “It’s not mine,” he muttered, before abruptly replacing his helmet and trudging off in the direction of the medical tent.

Jessie stood there, shocked, and debated whether to follow him or not.  But he had tried reasoning with a weary, determined Kix before, and knew that he would be wasting his time.  When it came to triage, even Captain Rex had trouble getting Kix to back down.  So, with a final, reluctant glance at the medical ward, Jessie left his brother to his work.

It wasn’t for several more days, and the campaign’s conclusion, that Jessie had a chance to speak to Kix.  Even after they had returned to the fleet and entered the ever-brief reprieve between assignments, Jessie hardly saw his brother.  Kix left the barracks early, returned late, if at all.  It got to the point where none of their squad saw him for days, unless they tracked him down in the medical bay.  As he so often did after major losses, Kix had thrown himself into his work.

Almost six rotations after the battle, Jessie returned to his barracks to find Kix, sitting on the floor, a dark bottle resting limply in one hand, his forehead in the other.  Neither clone said a word for a long, drawn-out moment.  Jessie stared at Kix.  Kix stared at an empty space, somewhere between his work boots and the bunk on the opposite side of the room.

“Kix…”

“Jessie.”

Jessie started.  It was the first time he had heard Kix speak since that day on the field, and he was taken aback by how hoarse his voice was.  When Kix didn’t say anything else, but took another swig from the opaque bottle, Jessie said slowly, “where did you get that? You know it’s contraband…”

It wasn’t an accusation, and Kix seemed to know this too.  He chuckled bitterly, raised the bottle in a mock toast.  “Belonged to a brother.  He doesn’t need it anymore.”

 Again, a heavy silence fell over the two of them.  Jessie used the silence to better look at his brother.  There were bags under his eyes that attested to the minimal hours of sleep he had been getting for days, and he had a clumsy nick on his freshly shaven jawline.  Kix usually prided himself on his steady hands.  Then, Jessie’s gaze drifted down to his neck, where he spotted a corner of white sticking out from under his blacks. 

Jessie’s eyebrows drew together.  He recognized a fresh bacta patch when he saw one.

“Kix, what’s that?” He asked.

“A bottle of cheap spotchka, Jess,” Kix replied flatly, swirling the liquid around. “I know you’ve seen one before—”

Jessie shook his head, gestured at the side of his own neck. “No, I know that.  The patch. When did that happen?”

Silence.  Then, Kix set down the bottle with a sigh.  Jessie took it as an invitation.  Without a word, he sat down next to his brother and waited patiently for Kix to begin.  It wasn’t that Kix was bad discussing his emotions – he was an experienced trooper, one who knew that bottling it up forever would only result in poorer performance in the long run, if not something worse – he just carried so much weight on his shoulders, he sometimes needed a remind that he didn’t need to carry it alone.

“I’d just found another trooper – his name was Roger – when the general ordered the retreat,” Kix finally began, keeping his voice carefully regulated as he stared distantly at the bottle in front of him. 

“It was serious, but I knew I could save him if I just had a little more time.  Everyone else had started to fall back, except me.  Roger told me to leave him, let his brothers know where he kept his secret stash of booze.”  He gestured to the bottle, let out a bitter laugh.  “I couldn’t do it, Jess.  I needed to give him a chance.  I couldn’t just leave him…”

For a long moment, Kix seemed to space out.  Undoubtedly, he still hadn’t slept at all since he returned from the medbay – knowing Kix, he didn’t intend to until that entire bottle had been drained.

“So, you stayed with him?” Jessie prompted eventually.

“Of course. I tried my best to save him.  But I think even he could tell… he grabbed my scalpel, nicked me good before... yeah.”  Kix picked up the bottle again, stared distantly at the dark glass as he rubbed the side of his neck with the other.  “That did the trick.  Our position was already being overrun, and inside I knew… so I ran.”

After taking another swig, Kix offered the bottle to Jessie, who took it and set it carefully on his other side.  He could only imagine the conflict that had gone on inside his brother’s mind when he had been forced to retreat.  And more than that, Jessie knew Kix would see it as abandoning a brother, no matter what he said.  Still, he could try.

Gently, Jessie asked, “and his brothers…?”

Kix pressed his lips together in a thin line.  “Dead.”

That bottle was beginning to make a bit more sense, now.

“Kix, I…”

“Don’t say it’s not my fault.”

The sheer force in Kix’s voice made Jessie start.  He seemed on the verge of an outburst, or a breakdown, or somewhere in between.  Kix was raw from overexertion and bottled emotions.  Jessie was treading on dangerous ground.  But he knew he had to help his brother somehow, even if he was just someone to listen.  Slowly, carefully, he said, “I wasn’t going to.”

This time, Kix stared at him, gaze met suspicious gaze as the medic tried to figure out Jessie’s angle.  But he remained silent, awaiting whatever point Jessie wanted to make.

“I… I know saying it’s not going to change that you couldn’t save him,” Jessie said slowly.  “You did the best you could.  That’s what matters.”

“My best wasn’t enough, Jessie.”

“And it won’t always be.  That’s the sad truth, but how can we learn from the past if we never let it go?  Roger knew he was going to die.  He was willing to make that sacrifice if it meant you got to keep on fighting.  Like the Captain always says, ‘live to fight another day,’ remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Kix said bitterly, before his shoulders sagged, and all the hostility drained from his body.  When he spoke again, his voice wavered, and he looked ten years older than he was. “I remember.  I just… I promised I would tell his brothers.  He was so sure they made it.”

“But you told me.  We’re his brothers, too.”  Jessie grabbed the bottle again and lifted it up in a solemn cheer.  “To Roger and his squad.”

Momentarily, Kix stared silently at Jessie’s odd display, before he let out a sigh. 

“To Roger…”

Jessie took a swift gulp, grimacing as the liquid burned its way down his throat.  Well, now he could see why Roger had been so proud of his stash.  Then, he passed it to Kix. 

Not a word was spoken between the two, not even when one noticed a shimmer of wetness on the other’s cheeks, or a brief, undignified sniffle.  They didn’t say anything when one scooted closer to the other, so their shoulders were pressed comfortingly against each other’s, and fell heavily to sleep shortly after.  None of the rest of the squad commented on how Kix had returned, besides a mixture of questioning, worried looks.  But an understanding passed between them all the same.

It’s not your fault.  We do our best, but still, we fail.  That’s how it is now, and how it always will be.  But that’s not the end.  Because we must move on.  When bones break, they grow back stronger. 

So keep going.  Be kind to yourself.

Live to fight another day.

---

A/N: It seems that love a good, traumatized character who only knows how to give and never take, because why would they take if others need so much more than they do and no it’s definitely not because I relate to that as an empath and a people pleaser, definitely not.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

For the character ask: seeing as you were just talking about him Jesse or (idk how much you're still into this film but I think it would he fun) your favourite Taqwacores character

Both? Both is good.

Jesse:

favorite thing about them

my love for Jesse is mainly a vibes thing? like he lives in fanon for me. he just seems like a good bro. good bear hugs probably. i also see him being the guy that curses the most

least favorite thing about them

NOT ENOUGH SCREENTIME (also something something o66 but we don’t subscribe to that trope on this blog actually)

favorite line

“No recon? No air-support? We don’t know what we’re up against!” —> because i love him rising up against krell (also everything else he said in the umbara arc)

Honourable mention: “Where there’s a farm, there’s usually a farmer.”

brOTP

KIX

ОТР

i love him being a whore actually. i need him and kix to be with a different person every night. they are both bi. or pan. whatever. if it’s consenting they are fucking it.

nOTP

any clone honestly, im not a clone shipper. generally, i don’t ship him with any canon characters

Random headcanon

he’s the type of guy that cusses, drinks, smokes, fucks, but also sweet as shit, will give you his coat and know when you need a hug or a coffee. just,, good bro. in a modern au he’d be punk.

unpopular opinion

i don’t think i have one? like i said, im just here for his vibe lol

song i associate with them

Jessie’s Girl hahahahahaha

favorite picture of them

Jehangir:

favorite thing about them

his dichotomy. this is even more evident in the book, from Yusuf’s point of view. Yusuf glorifies Jehangir, seeing him as this vision, this enigma, the one guy who might actually have it all figured out. this goal that seems unreachable. but then he gets incoherently drunk, or has a bunch of one night stands and both Yusuf and Jehangir question how good of a person he actually is

that perfect imperfection does it for me. he tries to figure it out, to do good, but he’s so human in the midst of it all

least favorite thing about them

his dichotomy. (see above ☝️)

favorite line

i lent the book to a friend of mine, but once i have it back i will reblog this with about 20 quotes lololol

brOTP

Yusuf!!

ОТР

rabeya (I guess?)

nOTP

fatima

random headcanon

don’t know if this is a headcanon or just canon, but he has a super sick style and is really fucking hot, but he doesn’t believe that himself (actually i think it’s canon, yea, lololol)

unpopular opinion

again, idk, there isn’t really a fandom for this i feel? so it’s hard to have an unpopular opinion. but generally, Jehangir is like the embodiment of punk, and part of the point of punk is to get people angry, so just liking Jehangir as a character could be seen as like a negative?? idk?

song i associate with them

anything punk, really. mainly, “bad reputation”, “american idiot”, “wolf in sheep’s clothing” and a bunch of other stuff. I also sometimes think of him when listening to maneskin

favorite picture of them

(i lov him hihi <3)

[clonemedickix]

My current WIP and obsession, my OC clone CT 5609 LT Primer, Dragon Company Commander.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence / Mature themes / Adult content UNDER 18 DNI

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) | Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types | The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien | Game of Thrones (TV) | Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationship: CT-7567 | Rex/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: CT-7567 | Rex | CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo | CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives | Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | CC-2224 | CodyObi-Wan Kenobi | Mace Windu | Clone Troopers (Star Wars) | CT-5597 | Jesse | CT-6116 | Kix | Clone Trooper Hardcase (Star Wars) | Cut Lawquane | Suu Lawquane | Yoda (Star Wars) | Plo Koon | CC-3636 | Wolffe | Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious | Padmé Amidala | Ahsoka Tano

EXCERPT:

Generals Kenobi and Skywalker were sitting at a table on the open tarmac, Rex and Cody beside their superiors quietly waiting for the physical test to start. Lara was going to test the candidates in hand to hand combat, using hand only, blades and quarter staff. She wanted to see how well they might work, using any object as a weapon to defend themselves. She stepped up to the first candidate, CT 5609, named Primer. Lara gave him a little ceremonial bow, waiting for him to return it, then took a ready pose.

The clone did the same, his watchful eyes on her. When he’d been introduced to the new General, he’d just about not been able to listen to the words coming from the Commander about why he was there. She was hypnotizing to look at. She’d noticed his distraction and gave him a bright smile, then looked to Cody significantly. Primer had been able to snap himself out of his daze then, hearing the reason for being called there that day. He was honored, but now he was terrified. He was expected to fight this woman? That was not his first inclination.

While he was daydreaming, Lara suddenly closed the distance between them, her left fist coming out of seemingly nowhere to punch him. He barely got his forearm up to block her in time, and dank ferrick! She packed a punch! He stepped back quickly, but that gave her room to spin and bring her boot around, nearly taking him in the side of the head. He dropped low, the kick passing over him, and quickly stepped into her radius, trying to keep her in tight quarters so she couldnt swing at him. But that was part of the goal here. He caught a stiff elbow in the solar plexus that made him see stars. He barely kept his feet, raising his right arm weakly to block another punch while throwing one of his own with his left fist. She stopped his fist cold with her palm, stepped back a bit, spun and took his feet right out from under him. Primer was looking at the sky from his back, wondering what just happened? That whole fight had lasted about 3 seconds.

His view was suddenly blocked by her smiling face as she stood over him. “Alright, soldier?” She reached her hand down to help haul him to his feet. Primer looked blindsided. He’d always thought he was pretty capable at hand to hand fighting. He was going to have to step up his game. She didn’t give him much time to think, suddenly dropping her head low and bringing her back foot up in a spin kick. Primer got both hands up and caught her foot this time, pushing back to throw it away from him. She somehow used the momentum of his push to spin in midair on her side like a corkscrew, landing on her feet, then spinning backwards to bring her fists around. Primer was acting purely on instinct at that point, trying to defend himself. He started to actively back away from her, working in a circle. She stopped her attacks, watching him circle like some kind of predator cat searching for the best opening.

Their fight lasted about 5 minutes longer; she didnt have all day to play with these guys, though clearly she enjoyed sparring. Primer had finally gone on the offensive, moving to attack the General rather than run from her the entire test. He’d landed a couple of good blows, he thought. When General Kenobi called time on the match, Lara had stood, smiled at Primer and bowed to him again. This time, he felt the respect he gave her was completely founded. She fought better than anyone he’d ever seen.

[orishya-buyce]

Brothers?

this post has been sitting in my drafts for a good while, but I’ve finally gotten some extra downtime this week to look over and edit it. just a semi-brief analysis of the bad batch’s relationship to the other clones and how echo mixes into that dynamic.

my inspiration for this came from this work, Brother Killer by @papanowo

His art is amazing and I highly recommend you check out his blog if you don’t follow him already! :))

this concept is painful to think about.

but unfortunately the og batchers don’t seem to view the ‘regs’ as their brothers. they don’t see echo as a reg, because he doesn’t look like a ‘reg’ anymore. they know he was a reg. but they don’t see him as one now, if that makes sense.

we’ve seen from their TCW s7 arc and TBB s1 that there is tension between the regs and the batch, they do not like each other. and for good reason.

the batch is viewed as special. the kaminoans value them highly, and treat them atleast somewhat better than the regs, even if it is about their value as a soldier/property. they’re treated more like commandos, work more like commandos, assigned missions like commandos, trained like commandos, even think like commandos. this is why Gregor thinks they’re commandos in War-Mantle. they are commandos in every sense except their designation, ct-99s. They’re even more valuable than commandos technically, since there are quite a few commando squads in canon, and only one clone force 99.

even though they’re still clones, they look noticeably different to the regs. Kix points it out: “These guys are clones? They don’t look like clones to me.” Even without the tattoos, scars, and haircuts, you can tell they’re different people. unique individuals. with ‘regs’ you can’t.

This is where we begin to see Echo’s struggle.

he was raised as a reg. trained as a reg. grew up surrounded by other regs, his brothers, and the domino squad. they weren’t viewed as special. he faced the the treat of being decommissioned. but the domino squad was able to overcome that obstacle, by finding themselves and working together as a team. to their superiors, they only proved their worth as trained soldiers.

besides his armor and eventual status as an arc trooper, he’s a standard clone, a ‘reg.’

The Citadel changed that.

The injuries, the trauma, being locked up in a tube for years, experimented on against his will. used by the enemy to defeat the GAR. kill his brothers. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands.

after being rescued, he’s still not the same. He’s gonna carry that trauma with him the rest of his life. he barely even looks like his brothers anymore, let alone himself.

image means a lot, especially in regards to the clones.

the ‘regs,’ besides Rex of course, don’t recognize Echo as one of them anymore.

now that the batch has to fight against clones when dealing with the empire, its ripping open a wound Echo thought was on the mend, and the lack of acknowledgement from Hunter and the rest makes that pain even worse.

so, more than anyone, of course Echo wants to fight. he wants to repair the damage he believes he caused, even though it’s not his fault. he wants to save his brothers so they can make their own choices. he wants to save as many of them as he can from the empire, so they can live the life they want to, the life we know all the clones deserve.

this same desire isn’t present in the batch because, for the reasons I mentioned before, they don’t view the other clones as their brothers. I hope they do, eventually. But it’s obvious we need to see more character development from the entire batch for that to happen. keeping Omega and the squad as a whole safe is the priority, but I’m sure they’ll soon learn running away won’t work forever…or that they even want to.

[graylinesspam]

Well well if it isn’t the foreshadowing of the clone rebellion on kamino we’re witnessing (is it? IS IT??? Please be it).

No but really, are you actually planning on writing this kind of ending or you’re sticking to the canon?

Anyway im having a lot of thoughts, most of them are AGAFAGGAZGAVAVAVVAAGHAVSVSSVS I LOVE IT. IT WAS SO CUTE AND THEN GOT SO FREAKING SAD AND THEN GOT CUTE AGAIN AND THEN THE PLOT TWIST????? ALPHA PLANNING A COUP RIGHT UNDER THE LONG NECK’S NOSES HELLO????? BRILLIANT

Also

DID REX OFFICIALLY ADOPT AHSOKA MANDO STYLE ???? Did the rest of the torrent do the same omfg they’re literally family 🥹🥹🥹

Rex trying to keep teenage cadets away from Ashoka is both cute and hilarious. He is such a dad.. ahem… brother material 👀

And I absolutely love the way you characterized Shaak Ti. Everyone always portray her as this wise Jedi that cares about the clones just like Plo Koon. And that’s true to some extent but she is so wrong for sitting in her own bubble and refusing to see the way kaminoans and trainers abuse them. She's a kind soul and means well but she totally lacks critical thinking. (but also yeah I would love to see her finally being able to adopt a few baby clones and raise them as her own sons. Such a touching moment it was, right until the aiwha baits ruined it that is)

And Kamino being compared to the eye of the storm is such a poetry honestly yk it rhymes

In conclusion, wonderful chapter as usual.

Okay. So much happened this chapter. Let me bullet point my response.

I likely won't get around to writing a clone rebellion in SH, though one is definitely planned for ASOI. I just can't see the war ended (without the empire's rise) and there nit being a clone uprising. But yeah ask me about that for ASOI and I might tell you my plans.

Yes, Rex officially adopted Ahsoka previously in SH. Off-screen. He knows her name as his sister and all that. I chose Rex partially because he's more traditional and sentimental than a lot of her other brothers. Kix has also said the vows but the rest of Torrent didn't feel the need to. They heard that Rex adopted her and basically went,"Sister? Ah ok, sister." *vigorous nodding*

I don't like to focus too much on Ahsoka's relationships with boys, but also y'know everyone (within age or developmental range) had a crush on her during the war. Cal, Kannan, Lux, Korkie, some clone cadets. She's just a pretty girl. But yeah no Rex overheard like one remark about her and moved an entire class and had them running laps for hours. He does not play.

He is absolutely her Dad-ish in the beginning. They develop a more on par relationship as she grows up and then eventually he fully relinquishes social rank to her. IE not being her elder anymore. But the whole Brothers raising brothers, line was the most important from that section.

Shaak Ti is traumatized and depressed. That's what this is. The Jedi never should have been in a war. That's it. And trying to run a war when you're completely unqualified hurts everyone. Which isn't to say they have a lot of choice. Realistically if she stood up one day and decided that the Kaminoans needed to surrender all of the clones to the jedi and stop producing them she'd be removed from her station and ignored. There's really nothing she can do. And she knows it. Which is why she lives with her hands over her "ears". Because if she just holds on and does a little good every day maybe she can actually change something one day. (the pessimistic view being it's futile in the face of the rising empire of which she's an active participant in building.) (and the more optimistic AU view being that Ahsoka succeeds in ASOI and the clones go free but they have to unpack their abuse in a plee for citizenship forcing the galaxy to realize what Kamino did and what Shaak participated in. Likely resulting in her retirement.) either way not pleasant for her.

Maybe she does end up with some sons, depending in which older clones decide they want to ally with her. It's all gonna be communal raising of the children.

The whole theme of this arc was really that there is no peace in war. So long as the storm rages you'll always have to step back into it. Only by pushing through to the other side can you escape it. But yeah I put SO much effort into the environmental symbolism. I was planning this for months before I started writing it.

So thank you so much for the ask and for reading the latest chapters. I had a blast writing them. Fingers crossed no one is too mad about my characterization of Shaak, I guess we'll find out.