#if you know mando'a please chime in

[frownyalfred]

wdym this isn't the direct mando'a translation.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 8]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Should know the drill on my use of Mando'a, italics and my headcanons for an AU fic by now if you've been following along with the series this far. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Story picks back up two days after the birthday party. Medic!Reader now has herself a new relationship ehehe~ There's some new sibling-plotting because Hunter's room is a sad, bland mess. Describing the layout of a house is tricky, bedrooms less so. References to medical paraphernalia and an injury. Hunter being a good big brother figure. Hunter is invited to have dinner at Medic!Reader's house (and passes Spoon's standards). Brief mention of the inhibitor chips a few times. Hint of angst. Hunter ends up staying the night with a hint of body worship~. Tender hurt/comfort material at long last.

Word-count: 6,556

The door chimed five minutes after opening, signaling her first patient of the day had just stepped into her medical practice. She ducked out of her back office, surprised her services were needed so soon. Usually it took longer than just five-after, but with the seediness of the travel-hub, there was no telling if someone had been foolishly arguing in the shipyards with the stern foremen who ran then. 

"Hello! How can I assist you this mor- Hunter?"

Clone Sergeant Hunter was standing in her clinic. Alone. None of his brothers or his sister was with him as he stood stiffly, just far enough into the clinic that the sensors didn't keep the door open to the street.

"Hey, mesh'la." 

He didn't look hurt with a cursory once-over to her naked eye, a healer's habit. "Everything alright?" This was confusing. He didn't seem hurt, or appear sick, but he was standing here in the waiting area of the clinic he admitted to hating. So she assumed, very much in-line with her job as she bore the shattered cross on her shoulder of the uniform, it must've been something serious that brought him here. "What're you doing here?" Maybe he wanted to get that second set of stitches out after all after asking to think about it from the other day after he'd messaged her on her lunch break. 

Wrecker, when you come back from the ship, please be sure to come in quietly. Crosshair has a headache. 

> Hey there handsome, wrong comms. Afraid I'm not Wrecker. Just lil ol' Miss Medic~

Oh, Maker… Sorry to disturb you while you're at work, [____].

> It's okay! I'm on lunch break right now, nothing to disturb other than my boredom. Been a slow day. What's up? 

"I… just thought I'd come and say hello. And," Hunter paused, swallowing nervously for just a moment as he looked over one of the bright red and blue pediatric chairs, "start challenging that discomfort of mine about clinics." There was an unspoken for you from the way his gaze softened and his brows un-bunched when he looked at her again. He'd given her a "flexible promise" when they talked things over on the night of her birthday as Hunter walked her home that he'd try being less avoidant and more open with her to make this new… relationship as of two days ago… work a little smoother. 

Stars, she couldn't help the surprise. The touching tug this had on her heartstrings. "Awh…!" Color bloomed in his face and neck at the sound, a twin shade to the bandana wrapped around his skull. "Here, come with me to my back office. It doesn't reek like antiseptic in there, I promise." They could talk in a stronger sense of seclusion back in her office, and her patients wouldn't think she had anyone ahead of them or that she was in trouble if they saw Hunter lingering in some far corner like those shady pirate smugglers once had nearly a year ago. 

She was glad those days were over when she was assured those pirates were encouraged to eat their blasters or they'd wish they had if they bothered her again. She was glad these new days as something a little more intimate and sweet were just beginning. She'd be spending a lot more time with the Batch. If she wasn't careful, she'd find herself living with them in their housing before she even realized that she was spending less time in her own home. The thought of it made her smile, and it burned brighter as Hunter tentatively took the medic's beckoning hand and trailed after her like the tide after the moon through her clinic to the back office, a look in his eyes so distant, like he was focused on a star far out in the great expanse of space out of a viewport in the cockpit of the Marauder. 

Hunter didn't like to be here, he never came here alone for kriff's sake, but even as [____] could see he was consciously fighting the discomfort by dissociating, she couldn't help ask the question building on her tongue. 

"You okay, Hunter?" 

He was trying as he promised; speaking the things he often left unsaid. Trying for himself, but her most of all. 

"I trust you." 

I feel safe with you as she popped open the door to the back office and let him step inside first. It smelled like one of the great forests of Kashyyyk in the enclosed, private space. Wood of the Wroshyr trees, the rich, fibrous soil, and oxygen-rich air that felt like unfettered rejuvenation after a stuffy cycle under nothing but oxygen-recyclers. He wasn't sure how she accomplished this (she had Tech to thank for the help), but it was a thousand times more comfortable than the rest of the stark sterility of the small health practice. 

I'm sorry for being avoidant for so long, too long as she started a second cup of caf in the caf-pot for him, pointing him in the direction of the most comfortable seat she kept in there for the patients when she had to break difficult news.

But at least I know without a doubt that I love you, mesh'la as he took the medic's offered caf-shot, the way he likes it, the way that doesn't bother his stomach, the way she recently learned, just for him. 

You live in discomfort, she told him in her own flexible promise that night that marked another year since her birth, another trip around another star in the galaxy different than the one she'd been born under, but that does not mean you have to be ashamed of it, or, let it stay that way. I can do things to help. Just have to use your words, big guy. 

I can do that, mesh'la. Just… be patient with me. 

"Now that I know what that means," [____] started softly, voice breathy and light with fondness, with a promise over the lip of her cup of caf, "I love you, too, handsome." 

Maker… was he lucky for it. 

Omega eagerly emerged from her room, fresh work of art in hand with bright eyes. "Where's Hunter? Is he in his room?" 

"No," Wrecker laughed from the snug dining table, a mess of bolts and screws sprawled on the flat top in front of him. "Hunter's not in his room. He's not even home." Though he didn't look up from the assorted parts, the expression glued to his face now was clearly understood by Omega.

"Did he go to one of the shops? Our grocery list has gotten quite long…" Tech mused, goggles hanging around his neck, thumb and index cradling his chin in a thoughtful caress as he looked at the household board. It'd only been two days since the party, how were they already out of blue milk? 

"Noooo. He's not supposed to, he's supposed to take it easy on his injuries still," Omega's voice playfully warbles with a laugh, "He's probably gone to visit [____]! I'll just show him what I drew later." 

"Whu- hey I wanna seeee!" Wrecker whined, abandoning his focus on the project. "How come Hunter always gets to see your drawings first before the rest of us?" 

"She's trying to get our bandana'd brother to put some karking color on his walls…" Crosshair yawned, swinging a leg off the sofa in a languid motion so he could sit up. "He's the only one in the house whose room looks like we just moved in. It's like looking at his bunk back on Kamino." Worse than that, actually. 

At least on Kamino, Hunter's bunk bore the crest of their squad in the center of the wall… Here, far from Kamino, there were completely bare walls in the smallest bedroom. No pictures. No crests. Just paint. A faded, dusty and soft gray with purple undertones that had been there when they moved in. 

It was like looking into the makeshift brig on Kamino. The one Hunter had been given a rather aggressive "oh that was just a "love tap", get up!" by a Shock Trooper's stun-staff all for trying to protect Crosshair, even as much as the behavior spurred on by the inhibitor chip upset him. Angered him. 

"You are not taking my brother anywhere! I don't give a damn Sith's left tit what orders you have! STAY BACK!"

Everyone had decided together what rooms they would take, based on the unique needs each of the men had. First and foremost, Omega had been given a room all to herself; the second door on the right side of the hallway, sandwiched between what became Crosshair's room at the end of the hall on the right corner, and Echo's closest to the common room. Wrecker and Tech had taken the biggest room since they didn't mind sharing, or a less than immaculate sleeping space. They'd all added little personal touches to their walls, save for Hunter. 

And Omega found that depressing. 

But for all the artwork she drew, none ever found its way on Hunter's walls with a gentle no-no, you keep it, ad'ika even if she tried insisting that it was okay if he kept it. 

"Really? He still hasn't put anything up on his walls?" Wrecker frowned, bottom lip drooping into a confused, worried pout. "Why… why not? We've nearly been here a year! Doesn't this place feel like home to him already?" 

"I theorize it's not because he wants nothing on his walls, but rather is afraid to put something on his walls for when he's experiencing one of his more severe headaches or ocular migraines." The worried frown melted into one of empathy. Echo had them on occasion much like Hunter, but hardly ever as severe. "Perhaps… small botanical prints would liven up the room, be less, er…" Tech stopped himself with a look at Omega's blurred figure. His sister enjoyed using the loud and bright colors one occasion for livening up their living space, but he didn't want to suggest that the reason many of those sorts of colorful creations weren't hung in commonly used areas was because they were garish.

Far from it, in his opinion. They just had an unfortunate and unintentional effect on the eyes of the marksman and the sergeant. 

Though the movement was hard to see clearly, it appeared Omega's left eyebrow lifted before she asked Tech a question. "Less eye-strain to filter out?" 

"Yes." Tech admitted simply. It hadn't been what he was thinking of saying, but Omega's guess was a good one, one he'd yet not thought of. Proud, Tech gave her a fond nod. "Less eye-strain to filter out. Very insightful, Omega." 

Two siblings made out the opportunity and immediately ran with it, much to his displeasure.

"Was the pun intentional, nerd?"

"Haha, "insightful", good one!" 

Grumbling lightly, Tech squared his shoulders at the tone behind the nerd jab. "That was not intentional. Merely happy coincidence. I don't see-" 

"Well if you put your goggles on, you would!" Echo called from the two-seater, lowering his datapad to break away from the screen (more encrypted messages with Captain Rex most likely) for a moment.

"Oh come now, Echo, not you too..." he whined, giving Echo a look that he hoped said that he expected better of the only brother willing enough to regularly co-pilot with him. 

Wrecker really did try to placate him, but unfortunately Tech's patience was thin enough that the additional remark proved too much. "Ah c'mon, we're only just teasing you, Techie."

He'd had enough and turned on his heel to go retreat to his room, set on temporarily locking Wrecker out. "Oh honestly-! SHIT!" Tech exclaimed, wincing at the sharp snap of his goggles as they slipped from his hands in efforts to quickly fix them back over his eyes. Oh kriff, that hurt… His right orbital socket was wracked with so much pain he hadn't heard one of his brothers had now gotten close to him and laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him as he was still staggered against the wall. Tech flinched, reflexively smacking the hand from his proximity. "Don't touch me!"

He could hear the flutter of paper as it was either set down or dropped. "I-Is he okay?" Omega stammered. Several sets of feet shuffled slightly closer, but only one of them invaded his personal space.

"Hey hold still, move your hand away, Tech; let me see." Crosshair clucked his tongue sharply, grabbing his brother's wrist instead this time so Tech couldn't skirt away, deaf to the protests. He didn't like the hiss of the inhale Crosshair made. "That'll leave quite the shinier, kid… C'mon. Let's take you down to the clinic so she can take care of that cut. While we're there we'll ask if we bother saving Hunter a plate for lunch." 

"I- a cut?" He couldn't feel any cut, or blood for that matter. There was a lot a pain, so maybe he-

"Tech," Crosshair warned him, each word coming out in a slightly stern hiss, "don't go touching it. There's no telling what's gotten all over your hands since you've been working on your projects this morning." He tried moving his hand from Tech's wrist to better take his brother's hand to lead him along, but Tech shook his head. He'd forgotten Tech didn't like holding hands with someone without the barrier of a glove in the best cases, and this was not the best case since he'd reacted poorly to his brothers' teasing; he was not in the mood for it. "N-no. Absolutely not." 

The hand returned around the wrist. "Alright, sorry Tech." Crosshair looked at Omega, who'd opened the front door for them. "We'll say hi to [____] for everyone." he promised her as he led a bitterly grumbling Tech behind him.

Hunter's hearty chuckle at the medic's joke was cut short in a muted choke of shock at the sensor to the door chiming before the sharp swish as it opened. They were just getting back to talking after [____] had settled a return of a patient's prescription canister of mild antibiotics they no longer needed for their malady. He had hoped that they'd pick up the "conversation" they were previously floating by one another, just a trail of whatever came to mind mostly. 

Hunter hadn't been fully aware of the snarled growl of displeasure he'd made until she giggled softly from her desk. "That going to be a regular thing every time you visit me at work, Hunter? Getting jealous when someone needs my attention?"

Before Hunter could retort to the teasing, and it was just teasing, he could hear Crosshair's voice out in the waiting room. [____] could too, judging by the bemused grin. "I'm a marksman, I have good eyes. I'm not going to let you walk into a wall, Tech." 

There was a sharp scoff. "You did when we were cadets!" Tech protested indignantly. "So you'll have to forgive me for recalling the first time you tried to assist me ended with my nose bruising!" 

"Oh dear," the medic tutted, grin dropping sharply, "and here I thought perhaps one of your brothers came to see where you'd gone off to and weren't going to leave you alone. Came to tease you, or something. Sounds like Tech's gotten hurt…" [____] got up, coming around her desk and exiting her office quickly. Hunter followed after, hearing her heart skip with worry. "What happened, boys?" 

Tech wrenched his hand from Crosshair's grasp and blindly clawed the air ahead of himself at the sound of her voice. "[____], there you are," he smiled triumphantly when she found his elbow to guide him to sit in a chair, not clearly seeing the wince when she looked over his blossoming black eye, "I know you'll be honest with me; I do not trust Cross to tell me the truth currently. Am I bleeding or not?" 

[____] exchanged a little look with the snarky sniper that she had the sneaking suspicion that Tech couldn't clearly make out without his goggles. "Well what does Cross keep telling you? Mind the light-" she whipped the pen light out of her coat pocket and thoroughly inspected the orbital injury, tittering worriedly to herself, "oh Maker. That looks like that hurts."

"It does," Tech grumbled darkly, "and he keeps saying that I'm not bleeding, but there's a particularly tender area that feels like the skin has broken when I lost my grip on my goggles." 

The marksman just sighs, "I kept telling him not to touch it." He and Hunter share a look of knowing. Tech's sense of curiosity was a gift and a curse in equal measures. A boon and a burden. Endless entertainment for the brothers in the long stretches of hyperspace, or absolutely annoying when they were, say, trying to sleep. 

The medic lowers the pen light and takes both of Tech's shoulders. "You're not gonna like what I have to say," [____] warns the genius. "Crosshair is right about both of those points. You're not bleeding. And now we're going to have to use the stronger antiseptic wipes to play it safe since you've touched the surface cut. Only because I can't be sure what's all over all your little projects. Okay?" 

Hunter just smiles softly as Tech takes her words to heart without much offense, appreciative she was honest with him as always. "... okay. That is fair." 

Crosshair takes a seat near Tech, stretching his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. "How'd he get hurt?" Hunter asks, bobbing his head at the marksman while [____] stepped into one of the small examination rooms to get what she needed. "He lost his grip on his goggles trying to pull them back on quickly. We took it too far with the teasing and he got upset…" Cross admitted softly, shaking his head shamefully before Hunter would have had the chance to scold. But Hunter only frowned softly, eyes sweeping from brother to brother. 

It'd thankfully been a long time since Tech had been so badly teased by his brothers he was sulking silently. "Who is "we", this time?" The last time had been started by Wrecker, almost a year and a half ago, and the two brothers hadn't talked to each other for a week no matter how earnestly and sincerely Wrecker apologized for his slights. Maker, it'd killed Wrecker to have Tech so upset him. Hunter wished he could have resolved the old matter differently now; handled it more like a brother, and less like a leader. He could only try to be better now. "Mind telling me what happened so I understand?"

Cross volunteered, voice soft, "I started it. Wrecker and Echo joined in… Made fun of him for not wearing his goggles because-"  

"Omega has more drawings she wishes to share with you, Hunter." Tech cuts in, and his voice has less of a bitter tone, but still rather terse. It's a confusing interruption. 

"Oh?"

"She's worried about the state of your room. It's too plain." 

Hunter sighed softly and took a seat between Crosshair and Tech, all three telling [____] it was no problem that she had to take an emergency call in her back office, dropping off the items she'd need for Tech with them and apologetically promising to be ready to help soon. "It's okay, mesh'la… Yeah, I know Omega is; I agree with her on that." Tech turned sideways in the waiting room chair and did his best to meet Hunter's eye, which just tugged at Hunter's heart seeing Tech's injury so close now, thankful it was minor. "I haven't been sure where to start. So… if you have some kind of plan, I'm all ears." 

Tech blinked in surprise. "You mean it…?"

"Tech." Hunter murmured softly, nodding his head in the direction of the back office with a lazy grin where he could hear her wrapping up the emergency call advising the patient they needed to seek out a clinic with a bacta tank and regretfully had no such thing herself, "If I wasn't sure where I should start with something big like telling her how I feel, of course I mean it."

In the back office, [____] had set down the communicator and spent a minute tidying up her desk by moving Hunter's empty mug of caf from its precarious perch to stall for time. She could make out just enough of their conversation to tell that Hunter was having yet another tender moment with his brothers that she didn't dare interrupt.

She respected and admired Hunter's efforts to take care of his family to the best of his abilities.

It's part of what made her love him, after all.

Come on… he's spent hours in position before waiting for his quarry, but this was agony. Hunter sighed sharply, drumming his fingers into the tabletop with a grimace as he tried returning his attention to the catalog of various paint samples [____] had loaned him. Page after page filled with soothing colors she'd considered for her clinic that she sent home with him when he returned with Crosshair and Tech once she'd treated the orbital injury. 

"I can hear you out in the lobby better than you think, handsome. Go home, have some lunch while Tech spells out some master plan; tell the others I said hello, too. You can tell me how it all goes over dinner at my place tonight… if you're interested?" 

He hadn't even hesitated, even slightly, when he asked "What time do you plan on closing the clinic today so I can take you home?" and ignored how both his brothers snickered behind his back. 

He couldn't focus. He'd much rather be jogging down that shortcut between the high-rises and reach the clinic doors just as she stepped outside to lock up for the night, calling out that Echo was in charge until he got back. Now that Hunter had finally told her, and [____] reciprocated how he felt, he couldn't stop thinking how light and freeing it had become… "Staring at the time won't make it go any faster, Hunter." 

He just smiled softly, not realizing he'd been staring off into the distance again since showering twice to rid himself of the antiseptic aroma that clung to him before giving the catalog a look. "I know, Omega…" 

"I wish it would too, though." his sister admitted, pushing a chair closer to join him and flip through the assortment of colors and all the handwritten notes [____] had crammed in the margins. Hunter gave his sister a curious look, wondering why Omega said such a thing. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Omega scooched her chair closer, burrowing herself into his side when he put an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Well...You used to be so stressed out all the time since… the chips activated. Things slowly got better when we met [____] and learned that we could trust her. You've been a lot happier since telling her… And I'm glad to see you so happy. We all are." 

Hunter said nothing to tarnish the moment, just allowing himself to sit in silence and return his sister's embrace. He always knew in the back of his mind his sister was highly aware below the surface of the rest of her personality, but there were always opportunities she surprised him; just enough instances of bombshell-revelations to keep the five of them on their toes. Sometimes it was scary just how perceptive she could be. Sometimes, like now, there was a pang of sorrow deep in his chest that she'd been worried about him. 

Yes, she was older than him, physically, and some might (foolishly) argue less mature because she lacked experience, but it personally didn't make sense to Hunter that she should have to worry about him. She should get to be a child while she has time… Crawling into someone's bed because she had a nightmare. Taking breaks from the important studies she had with Tech just to daydream out the window, or tinker around with her few toys, or doodle. Making friends and memories that weren't stained red with the stench of war… 

He should've shaved when he'd been in the 'fresher, he realizes when Omega's hand tenderly cups his cheek the same way she'd comforted every brother when they woke up from the process of getting those chips out of their heads with Captain Rex's help. Her little thumb brushes through the stubble around his jaw, her bright eyes scrutinizing his face as she looks at him and apologizes. "I didn't mean to make you sad…" 

"You didn't, ad'ika." Hunter assures her once he's made up his mind and returns the favor, cupping her cheek before affectionately ruffling her hair after checking the time. "Promise me one last thing before I go pick up [____] from her clinic."

"What's that?" 

Hunter pulled his sister snug against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Omega was eager to return the offered affection, tucking her head under her brother's chin. "Don't grow up on me too fast, okay? I love you, Omega." 

Releasing one another after a moment, Hunter gathered his things and tied his bandana absentmindedly now that his hair was finally dry, "Let Echo know-"

"He's in charge until you get back, I know. I will!" Omega giggled, playfully pushing him towards the door while calling over her shoulder into the rest of the house that Hunter was leaving. "We'll be fine, don't worry about us. Go! Have fun!"

After years of the Kaminoan mess halls and GAR rations, it mattered very little what one put in front of Hunter for a meal. Was it seasoned with identifiable flavors, human-safe and appropriately warm or cold? Congratulations, it was palatable, the idea of it being "too simple" be damned! He completely understood that she'd be a little tired after the work she does in a health care clinic situated in a spaceport like this. The bustling travel-hub was always rife with those who needed her help, it was no surprise she would have a large assortment of ready-made meals tucked away in her cold-unit for the precious few hours she truly had to herself. 

Her precious few hours she'd sweetly invited him over to share and have some dinner together.

"It's okay; simple is good." She just grinned softly at him, laying the pre-packaged dinners she'd picked up most recently on the countertop after hearing his assurance. "Besides, I'll be able to tell you how everything went that much sooner." 

[____] laughed this time. "Oh boy. This oughta be good." 

It certainly was. It took Hunter most of dinner to explain through shared laughter how Tech had done a lot of measurements, somehow found the floorplan of their exact house and had been so dismayed that the room Hunter had taken was just barely larger than the cockpit of their attack shuttle. 

"He's threatening to find us another house, now." 

"Oh, Maker! How serious is he?"

Hunter just chuckles, stabbing another portion of salted vegetables and noodles before saying with a smile "It took quite a while to talk him out of it. For now."

Next he gets briefly sidetracked by talking about enjoying all the little notes she'd written in the edges around the pages of the color samples she hoped would be kinder on his eyes, and adored, yes adored, the flourishes she added to her handwriting. 

"It's so very… you."

"Well: now I'm curious about your handwriting…" she admits, biting back a smile behind the lip of her cup. 

"Hah, good luck. May need a translation key for my nuna-scratchings."

"Hush, I'm sure it's not that messy. I've seen the most atrocious handwriting from people in my own profession," she countered with a gentle laugh, "I'm sure it's far more legible." 

Okay, she had a point, he laughingly conceded before getting back on topic. Hunter briefly recounted some of the considered colors, noting that was about as far as he got before he’d come to meet her in front of her clinic’s door.

The longer Hunter and [____] spent talking about other things once dinner had been finished, the more Hunter noticed the steadily building ache in his head. It was brushed off easily enough at first, chalking it up to minor, probable causes, but the headache flared stronger not long after it began. Before long, Hunter was cradling his head in his hands when the medic had ducked into her kitchen to take care of the plates and grab something sweet to share.

Maker, what was making his head hurt so much?

"You keep grumbling to yourself in there," [____] called softly from her kitchen over the rumble of the sink as she washed her hands, "you okay?" 

"My head…" he complained softly. "Think I tied the bandana too tight after using the fresher at home..." His skull felt like it was being juiced, and it was deeply uncomfortable now, every beat of his pulse felt through his scalp. 

She set the dessert item down on the countertop and skirted around the table to come behind him, a steady hand on the upper arm of his left side. "Lemme see." With her right hand, Hunter could feel her try to gently tuck her first two fingers under the edge of his bandana, but could only comfortably fit her index before she would have been tugging on the accessory. [____] moves to inspect the knot, and he can hear that sad frown on her voice. "Oh blast sakes… that's a tight knot, big guy. I think I can do something to help with that, if you’re interested." 

Whether pain made him desperate, or it was an exercise of his trust in her, Hunter surprised her by how quickly he agreed to the idea. [____] leads on to her room, guiding Hunter with a tender hand. "In here. S-sorry about the clothes on the floor, Spoon keeps getting into my dirty clothes basket lately…" She hastily kicks what must be some undergarments under some other clothing before scooping it all up and dumping it into the proper receptacle. All he catches is a flash of her favorite color, too focused on the living Tooka currently curled around the Tooka doll. "Hah, speaking of my new little rascal. She's kinda adopted me and decides that she lives here now as of two days ago. Not exactly Crosshair's biggest fan." 

Hunter gives the skittish feline an inquisitive look, offering out his hand, palm up, with his fingers slightly curled to make them appear smaller and less threatening as Spoon took a curious sniff. "Didn't like my brother, hm?" He laughed softly when he received a tentative lick from the Loth-cat before she uncurled herself from the stuffed rendition and buckled her back before hopping down off the bed, deliberately sidestepping to throw her light-furred body against his ankle in a display of trust. "Cross can be a sarcastic little snot, but he's not all bad, I promise." 

[____] giggled softly. It was such a beautiful little sound to Hunter. She could laugh so easily and freely… 

Was it possible that Tech has some sound byte of [____]'s laughter, the same way his brother had several recordings of the joyous way their older sister could whoop with laughter right alongside Wrecker? She could make him laugh just because she was laughing so hard with Wrecker, sometimes… What did [____] think of his laugh? Did it sound natural to her? Would he sound as happy as she did listening to himself in some audio snippet tucked away in that maze of files Tech stored on his datapad? 

He hoped so. 

It was… hard to feel worthy of that happiness sometimes. He had his siblings to take care of. Memories of the GAR to carry for the remainder of his accelerated life; the orders he had to carry out. 

The orders he disregarded. Either because he didn't want to do them, or didn't think they were right. 

She'd caught him reaching under his bandana for that thin, pinkish mark that was the only proof of his inhibitor chip these days. That he used to have one like every other Clone. "Hey. Hunter? Did loosening it help any?" 

Thank Kamino's rains: she just thought he was adjusting his bandana after she'd tried loosening it for him. "Not sure, mesh'la…" he admits, voice a slightly frustrated huff. Loosening it usually helps, but there'd been little improvement. Guess it was just too tight for too long. 

[____] kicks herself up onto the mattress of her bed, patting the space on either side around her. "C'mere then. Lemme take care of you." 

Take the medic out of her clinic…

"Can that bed support two people?" Hunter checks, thinking of the way he saw other Clones, his fellow GAR soldiers and brothers, trying to find a way to squeeze on the same rickety cot after a particularly brutal campaign to find a semblance of security. Comfort. Familiarity so far from Kamino for the younger batches of brothers. And the too many times to count that Wrecker ended up just taking the thin mattress off the cots and the bunks and sleeping on the floor so he spared himself the lecture for breaking GAR property. "F-forget I asked… old habits." 

"Military beds are not that great for a, uh… cuddle, hm?"

"Not always…" Hunter admits, face flushing after he considered what words [____] must have thought of before settling for something so… wholesome. He gets up on the bed beside her, unlacing his boots and shedding his shirt before he tentatively lays down as she suggests. She wants to see if a massage would help with lessening his headache before she scrounges up one of the many over the counter painkillers she has here at her home. Hunter doesn't protest when she breaks apart the knot and lays his bandana on her bedside table, or when she begins to methodically muss his hair. He only hates that he can't comfortably look up at her when he's laying prone like this on his stomach.

She truly did mean it in a wholesome sense, he realizes when she speaks next. "Must've been just awful for poor Wreck… Big guy's kinda a snuggler through and through." 

"Yeah… Wrecker sure is." he agrees. He's received more spine-popping hugs than he'd ever possibly be able to remember. He's also received some of the most effective results of deep pressure therapy for the episodic sensory overloads with Wrecker's help. Many weren't sure why the explosive ordnance expert was so affectionate, but like hell he'd let his brother believe the behavior was bad, rather only the timing, in some cases. 

Her hands creep lower and lower through his hair from the crown of his head, massaging his scalp in sections. She sections off another portion of his hair on the right side, and her breath hitched with minor surprise. "What's-? Is that a scar from an old head injury…? Oh Hunter…" The bed below them shifts as she bends forward to get a better look.

Blast it. Maybe she doesn't know, he certainly can't remember with this splitting headache.  "[____]... Do-"

She hums softly to interrupt him, shaking her head decidedly. "No… that's too clean to be an injury. That's an old incision scar. Less than a year old, I would guess..." She sits back, tracing the old scar with a gentle touch before her hand plants itself on his back, her thumb sweeping over his spine lazily. "That's about… how long ago Crosshair said that everyone had the inhibitor chips removed, based on when he came to my clinic to get some advice." [____] sweeps her thumb over the scar once more, a silence falling over them both, and she moves on to another area, shifting the topic slightly. 

"Crosshair ever tell you how much that hug meant to him when you practically tripped over yourself getting off the front steps? Explicitly?"

It takes him a moment to answer her, the relief ebbing over him as [____] gently scratches and massages Hunter's scalp in little, circular motions is proving a massive boon. She's a natural at this, he's even starting to feel a little sleepy as the headache falls away, degree by degree. "Not explicitly... Not his thing…" 

She laughs softly, the sound gentle and bright. "Must've been in his own little Crosshair way then. Nothing wrong with that…" He hums agreeably, crawling forward and adjusting his arms to get more comfortable at her invitation to lay his head on the tops of her thighs so she can continue to fuss her hands through his hair more comfortably for them both. He can't see it well, but she's smiling down at him this entire time as she watches his blinks growing slower and slower each time she works her fingers through those dark brown curls from root to tip. 

The tension in his body melts away the longer she treats his aching head and spoils him with attention. He's speaking in gentle little mumbles, all the while being this close to falling asleep on her, literally. (She doesn't mind in the slightest; she did it first after all.)

"Taking off the bandana help any?" [____] murmurs after a few minutes of silence passes by, rearranging the hair that's fallen over his eyes. He's awake, but just barely. His eyelids flutter open a fraction of a second, the action a slight twitch of movement more than anything. "Mm…?" 

"Nevermind, sweetheart," she tells him, caressing and stroking the back of his head in a languid, loving fashion, feeling his breath pulling in and out in regular waves across her thighs as he rests on his stomach, his head in her lap. "It's okay. You can just go to sleep, if you want." There's no movement in his face, the hint of his sleepy, easy smile doesn't budge. Just a lazy hum from deep in his chest that she can feel through the mattress and bedding below her as he finally surrenders to slumber, permission given. "...mm-m." 

Only when she's entirely certain that Hunter's asleep does [____] speak, or move in the slightest. With care, she eases his head off her lap and tucks one of the spare pillows beneath him, planting a kiss against his temple. Another over the old incision scar for good measure before she tries to slip away and check on Spoon one last time for the night. "Goodnight, Hunter…" 

Even in his sleep, Hunter is somehow able to find her hand and take hold, latching on tightly before she can get far. He whimpers, kriffing whimpers, her name softly in protest because he must sense her trying to leave. 

"Okay, okay," [____] murmurs soothingly, glad she can turn off lights remotely more than ever as she gingerly rejoins him on the bed, "I'll stay, sweetheart." she promises Hunter, caressing the back of his head once again. She begins with shimmying the bedding over them both, all the lights set to shut off, and finally laying back before Hunter appears content and drifting into deeper sleep. Truly content. 

"I'm not going anywhere..."

Taglist: @dragonrider9905  @ladytano420  @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904​

Note from Frost: If you would like to be added to the taglist that is currently just specific for Sorry, Wrong Comms!, (I may start a taglist for all Star Wars related fanfiction projects that will be marked accordingly with #frostfics in the near future if there is interest) don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or a comment loves. 🩷

[MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[shadows-snakes]

Clones vs Caf

I'd like to think that on Kamino the Clones aren't given caf or sugary things, to like keep them in top condition. So, the first time they would have those things would be in space on the job, right?

The clone wars is still new, its only been about a few months and Obi wan is in space on his cruiser and notices that none of the clones have touched the caf machine. He talks to Anakin about and his former padawan says he noticed the samething. Next time Obi wan is with Cody, planning for the next battle, he casually mentions that they are allowed to drink from the caf.

Which leads to a group of clones all huddled up around the forbidden caf machine all too afraid to go first. They all know what caf is, they read about it when learning about what types of cargo pirates go after and what supplies should be prioritised when evacuating. All it's supposed to do is give them more energy. That doesn't sound like a bad thing.

"I'll do it." Cody says, grabbing one of the disposable plastic cups. The liquid is warmer than he thought, but it's nice, comforting.

He takes a sip and his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. The rest of the clones follow suit, wanting to know exactly why their brother looks like he knows exactly how to end the war.

Chaos runs rampant.

There's no more caf.

Obi wan is in his room when it first starts. The force warns him that something is wrong, but he assumes it is just a warning to be extra careful at their next battle, general Grievous was going to be present. There's a loud bang in the halls, like a body hitting the wall then thudding to the ground, followed by cheers. Reluctantly, he pokes his head out, raising Anakin he has some idea of what's going on outside. The hall is just filled with clones running into each other at full force, helmets first. Some of them are just running, arms flailing behind them going somewhere. There is someone in the vents. Maybe more, but someone is definitely in the vents. And there is so much talking that it doesn't sound like basic anymore, or mando'a.

Walking through the chaos, trying not to get hit with a clone, Obi wan concludes that it's not just the clones who fight, it's also the ones in charge of piloting and other stuff.

Obi wan sighs, realising that this was going to be a long battle, and goes into responsable dad mode.

"No, Boil don't put your knife in your mouth."

"Please don't climb the hyper drive while it's active."

"Cody? Cody where are - What are you doing?"

(cut to Cody with crazy hair in the briefing room as that meme with the dude trying to solve the conspiracy - you know the one).

Obi wan slowly backs away and closes the door.

We will never know what Cody almost figured out. Order 66 He's super big brain right now.

The escape pods. Obi wan runs through the mess of bodies that clutter the ship to find a window. Outside the blue streaks of hyperspace greet him. He sighs with relief there's still time. The Master Jedi begins to make his way down to the escape pods, only stopping to help a trooper who got stuck in the ventilation system.

He locks all the pods in place to make sure none of them got to the planet sooner once they were in orbit.

Now all he had to do was come up with a plan that super charged super soldiers would pay attention to.

"Alright." Obi wan begins, "A group will come in from the left and then-"

"We'll use the missile launchers." Cody interrupts.

"Yes Cody, but first we-"

"Charge at them full force." Waxer chimed.

"With canons!" said another.

"We could ram them with the laats!"

"And use the missiles!"

The room erupted into cheers. Kenobi feels like he's aged about a million years.

Meanwhile on the Resolute, Anakin is taking every, and any, idea that is being thrown at him with enthusiasm.

Finally reach the planet surface. The separatists are already there, waiting. But the cruiser hasn't stopped to orbit and no-one is going to the gunships. They are headed full speed towards the surface and there's no turning back now.

By some miracle they land in one piece with everyone thankfully still on board. All the clones are geared up, fully decked out from head to toe, standing ready at the cruisers exit. Waiting with baited breath.

With one last, desperate attempt to have some semblence of order, Obi wan asks in the unsettling quiet that has been created.

"Does everyone remember the plan?"

The large door opens, the planet's natural sun shining in and someone in the crowd yells "Take 'em out!"

With one thunderous battle cry they come swarming out like ants. Every single clone on the ship.

The droids don't stand a chance. They're being ripped apart by bare hands. Clones are being shot but aren't staying down, as if the wound was just a minor inconvenience.

In the distance Obi wan can sense Anakin leading the charge. He signs hopefully for the last time today, and opens a chair watching the battle. General Grievous spaceship flies away off in the distance.

"Wish I could do that."

Once the caffeine has worn off none of the clones can be commissioned for like a week.

Word gets to Palpatine and he immediately sends word to Kamino to give the clones caffeine, this war can't end that quickly.

Masterlist

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

Day #27: I'm Coming Home

I hope we see Fennec's backstory in The Bad Batch. I want to know where this infamous sniper came from and why she took up bounty hunting. Also, I just want to see if she was close to any of the Bad Batch members because Fennec could have left Boba when he healed her, but she stayed with him which indicates that she trusts clones in a clone-hating universe.

(I made OC for Fennec's parents because Dave hasn't released anyone's parents yet. Looking at you Omega.)

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

Fennec was in a great dream. She was back in her hometown in her Outer Rim planet as a little girl. Her father and mother was calling her at their old home. Fennec laughed as she went to her parents arms. She felt safe and happy being back with her family.

Fennec jolted up and gasped. She looked around and sighed as she around her bunk. She's not in her hometown. She's not a little girl with parents anymore. She's Fennec Shand. A ruthless bounty hunter living with a small crew made of her, a sniper clone and a former duke.

Fennec got up from her bunk and went to the cockpit to see Korkie and Crosshair talking about their respective families. Well, more like Korkie's parents and nanny and Crosshair's brothers.

"If the Empire didn't make the regs execution crazy," Crosshair said. "Then, maybe I would have liked a few of them, but I hate everyone of them except for Commander Cody, and Rex."

"What about Echo's side of the family?" Korkie asked. "You said he talks about his late twin a lot."

"Ah, yes. Fives. Echo told us all about him. He sounded like a good clone and brother. It was sad that he lost his twin due to a conspiracy, but at least where he is now, there is no more pain."

"Of course there's no more pain in the Manda. You're finally free from the physical pain of the living world. Also, you meet up with the rest of your family there."

"But we weren't raised as Mandalorians in the religious sense."

"Did I stutter?"

"No, but do you really think I can be with the rest of the clones?"

"Crosshair! You're wearing armor inspired by Mandalorian armor, you said the clones knew an old battle hymn from Concord Dawn's Mandalorian tradition and let's not forget we can easily talk in Mando'a if we wanted to. You might not have been fully raised Mandalorian, but please stop insulting our heritage."

Crosshair shrugged as he took a toothpick and plopped it in his mouth. He was isn't going to argue with Korkie anymore about 'their' Mandalorian heritage if he believes Crosshair and the rest of the clones have a chance to be in the Manda. Korkie was raised to be the next ruler of Mandalore and its System, so if he says Crosshair and the clones are able to be in the Manda, then they have the rights to be with the rest of the clones.

"You know," Crosshair implored. "All this talk about our heritage makes me realize that we have no plan to tell Fennec we're going back to her family because you know where her planet's at."

"We're WHAT?" Fennec shrieked. "You two are crazy!"

"I thought we established that months ago, Fennec. Korkie isn't as sane as he looks."

Korkie glared at his partner as Fennec advanced to them. She can't believe they planned an announced trip to her hometown. She just had a dream about it and now they were going back.

A dream about her home.... Fennec stopped and looked at Korkie. She doesn't know much about the Force, but it didn't stop her from wandering if Force-users can give out visions to allies.

"Korkie," Fennec chimed. "I had a weird dream that I was back at my old home. I know you're just learning how to use the Force to your full potential, but can you give out visions?"

"No," Korkie answered. "I'm not powerful enough for that, and I was awake the whole time. I only have visions when I'm asleep or close to sleeping."

"Then do you think the Force just gives visions?"

"I don't know, but if it did, then wouldn't you have been raised at the Jedi Temple? I mean, I dodged a bullet because of my mother, but you came from a planet known to the Jedis. I mean Outer Rim planets might not the best place to find future Jedis, but it happens."

Fennec thought long and hard. She had bad luck through her life, but she was always preserving with luck on her side. She had better stamina than the rest of the girls in her hometown. She never had a hard time when she was injured and they always healed fast. Yet, the Jedis never came.

"Maybe I'm not blessed with the Force as you," she concluded. "But, the Force might be on my side at times."

Korkie nodded in agreement. "There had been a few cases in my visions that some people with low Midi-chlorians still have a chance to be lucky in life because the Force does call out to them in smaller scales."

"Midi-chlorians?" Crosshair asked. "What are those?"

"A Midi-chlorian is a life cell that lets people have control of the Force. Basically, Force cells that help people become close to the Force."

"And there's a chance I might have a low count of them?" Fennec asked.

"Maybe, I mean we do need you medical records and we are about to land in your old home planet. So your parents can just show us the medical files and we'll know."

"Wait? Land? How long was I out?"

"Six hours tops," Crosshair said. "We used the hyperdrive to get here faster, but we still wanted you to sleep after what you went through."

"I just brought my former uncle to a bounty. I don't need that much rest."

"Yes, and Korkie doesn't like spicy food. You need rest as much as we do. Besides, Korkie and I needed a couple's alone time since we're about to meet your parents."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we don't want to do anything insulting to the family that gave us a surrogate sister. Now belt up!"

Fennec got to her seat as the ship went down to her old home planet. It wasn't as exiting as the ones with the huge cities, but it was calm and had the best views of grasslands and rivers Fennec had ever seen. The view made her smile as she knew there was no hangar for miles on end if they were actually thinking of landing near her hometown. The closest one was at the center of her home planet, and she knew they were ways away.

"There's no hangar here!" Fennec cautioned.

"This ship lived in a desert planet," Korkie pointed out. "The grass here might be better than the rocks at Kalevala."

"Then hold on to your seats!" Crosshair warned.

The ship got lower as the landing gear went out. The ship landed without much of a hitch and the three were all fine.

"So Fennec," Korkie said. "How much money do we want to bring to your parents? I mean you want your old house back, right?"

"I don't know if the old house is still there," Fennec stated. "It's been close to a few years since I've left."

"Well better late than never," Crosshair proclaimed. "Korks, get the clothes."

Korkie ran out of the cockpit and went to storage to get the clothes. He did make some clothes for Fennec's family, but because there wasn't space to put them away, he placed them in a box. Fennec ran to his side and gasped at the sight. Suits made from high class quality cloth, and dress with Korkie's greatest silk creation.

"We don't need that much clothes!" Fennec protested.

"But I never had a sister before," Korkie whined. "I never had a sibling to love until you came. Please Fennec, once a Mandalorian calls someone their Aliit, it's for life or until disownment."

"He's not wrong," Crosshair conformed. "We're not willing to call people family unless they earned it."

Fennec sighed in defeat. Maybe it was the fact she was the only one who's not Mandalorian, but this gifting and surprise was too much. What did she do to earn it all.

"Fennec," Crosshair called out. "I hate people. Yet, you showed me that there is a space in my void of a soul to included someone like you. You earned this because I'm your ori'vod."

Korkie gasped at the statement. "Cyare! You know what that means to us."

"I know, I'm her big brother for life."

Crosshair opened the exit as Korkie took Fennec's hand while holding the box full of clothes. Crosshair went behind them as the two went ahead.

"What does that mean exactly?" Fennec asked. "You know I'm not Mandalorian, right?"

"Sorry, Fennec," Korkie apologized. "Being an ori'vod is a high statement for those not related to the person. It means you've been accepted as part of the family even if you're not from a clan. It's not adoption, but it's a close to adoption as possible."

"So I'm like almost a Mandalorian now?"

"Kind of, but only in the eyes of those who accepted you."

Fennec smiled as they went back to her hometown. The land still looked familiar as her old town was beginning to crept closer in view. Fennec let go of Korkie and went ahead to enter her old town as the men try to catch up. The place was still the same old buildings that were divided by how poor or rich they looked. Stalls in front of the town to greet hungry visitors. Children running around as teenagers look for potential dates. Nothing really changes much in a small time for a long time, but Fennec knew what changed.

Fennec changed. She left as a young naive, new-coming mercenary. She came back with bold clothes and the rifle to prove it.

"Well, slow down for us," Crosshair chuckled as he and Korkie got to her. "I never thought you'd be happy to be back here."

"My parents are here," she said.

The trio went through town with eyes on them. Three mercenaries with different looks were the most unusual thing to happen to the town. They only had one mercenary that left town before, but she was small and naive of the world. The woman walking in front of them was not the same person because of the aura she created.

One of the teens that looked at them went in front of Fennec and winked at her.

"Where did you come from?" he cooed.

"Here," Fennec replied. "You know where the Shands are?"

The teen looked at her closely and left her alone. One of the stall owners went to Fennec and took one look at her.

"Fennec?" he cried. "What happened to you?"

"These guys happened," Fennec happily pointed out.

She presented Korkie and Crosshair to everyone near. The townsfolk began to talk amongst themselves. Fennec Shand was back? And looking nothing like the girl who left?

"Miss Castor. It is me. Fennec Shand. Only child of Kristal and Luka Shand. Where are my parents? I need to talk to them."

"They're not here anymore. They're near the forest now. They only come around to make money from farming crops they made."

Fennec nodded and the trio left the town for the forest. The people still could not believe what they saw. Fennec was healthy and thriving with a crew that looked dangerous enough to make them not bother her.

As they entered near the forest, Fennec saw smoke and ran to the source.

"Seriously, this sister," Crosshair complained.

"You said it yourself," Korkie countered.

They ran to the source of the fire and saw a couple tending to a small garden. Fennec gasped as she knew who they were. Her parents were still living well even if they were away from the town. Fennec walked slower to them and the couple looked up. The woman gasped and ran to Fennec as the man cried in happiness. Their daughter was back.

"Mama," Fennec sobbed. "Papa."

"Oh, my Fennec," Kristal Shand cried. "You're back."

"My little girl," Luka Shand cried as he hugged her.

Fennec let go of her parents as Korkie and Crosshair approached them. Korkie gave them a royal bow while Crosshair gave a salute. Fennec's parents gave the men their hugs as they entered the home.

"We left the town weeks after you left," Luka explained. "We didn't want to be there if our Fennec's not there."

"Well," Fennec said. "What if I had enough money to get us back our old home."

"Fennec," Kristal sighed. "You made that house our home. If you're not there, it's not a home anymore."

"Then what if I made you lives better with some cash? Korkie here has gifts."

"Homemade and used with the best cloth," Korkie added.

"We'll accept that, but your health is all we need."

"Then you'll a long life," Crosshair said. "She's one lucky girl. May have the Force on her side."

Fennec's parents looked at each other and her father sighed.

"Fennec's grandfather," Luka started. "My father, was a former Jedi. He left the Order to be with my mother. Fennec might not have much of the Force, but the Force never left our family."

Crosshair looked at Fennec and then at Korkie.

"Well it's official. This clone is the only one who doesn't have a connection to the Force."

Fennec laughed as Korkie sighed. Now she has a chance to be the better sniper.

[jacensolodjo]

Will you love me in my darkness as I love you in yours I’m not afraid of your darkness i can only love you more Don’t be afraid of my darkness I’m not afraid of yours Just love me in my darkness as I love you in yours

————-

Pairing: Sheres/Mereel

Rating: T for war themes

Warning: PTSD and its symptoms, gore, cloneshipping

Summary: Because beneath the jokes, beneath the brush-offs, there are two men who have seen and done so many things that will forever weigh on their very soul. And those who have never done or seen those things will never understand on the same level as they understand each other. 

Notes: Tagging @izzyovercoffee for reasons that should be obvious. It may be my birthday month but izzy gets the gift. I hope u enjoy it! I did my best to subvert the trope of ‘triggered person goes on rampage against people who don’t deserve it’ while also avoiding any kind of fight with a loved one. Please don’t feel obligated to read if your own mental state isn’t secure but neither is it TOO detailed. 

************

An ARC was supposed to be fearless. That was what everyone said. But Jango had been very clear that a man must know fear. That any man who said he did not fear anything was a fool. Jango had been afraid of so many things. Afraid that the training wouldn’t be enough, afraid that they would all wind up dead, afraid they would blame everyone else but him for what was their life (especially that last one while also hoping they could forgive him in time). 

Sheres hated whenever he could feel the slight up tick in pulse when a mission started to feel like the one he had lost Cyclo and Nas on. Luckily his hands always stayed steady. He had spent so long learning to put a cap on things, to work through everything outside of a mission instead. But he still could not stop the physiological symptoms. But he knew Jango wouldn’t be disappointed with him about it. So long as he knew the where and when for dealing with it. 

He couldn’t really remember how he had arrived at the rendezvous point. All he could remember was the mission environment resembling the one he had lost his vode in. At least he knew he had gone after the right person. He was in civilian clothes so he didn’t have gloves to hide the cracked skin of his knuckles, his blood mingling with the blood of his target. His training had been thorough enough that even in a semi-blackout state his body had gotten him out of the vicinity and to friendly territory. A more ignorant person may have bandied about the explanation of the Force. But their training had made so many things second nature, augmented with good old fashioned experience in the field. 

His head jerked up from his study of his bloodied and cracked hands when the door in front of him hissed open and he was met with a face that strongly resembled his own but bore different lines, different scars,  slightly different shade of iris, and sometimes a different bulkhead stare. He was still too concerned about his own situation to be too thrown by the fact his counterpart had also decided on different hair.

“Hey, I was starting to wor–” the teasing smirk that had been forming fell away in an instant as he took in the sight before him. Sheres was slouched over, holding his hands limply in front of him as if unable to figure out where they should go. Within another fraction of a second, Mereel quickly yet gingerly pulled Sheres into the building by the lapel and upper torso of his shirt, a gently whispered ‘C’mere, I got you’ heard at the same time. Sheres didn’t struggle and mutely allowed himself to be led, his feet on autopilot to let Mereel guide him over to a couch that was barely holding together like a metaphor for Sheres’s own mental state. 

Mereel couldn’t remember the last time Sheres had returned looking the way he was. Regardless, he didn’t bother asking what had happened, it was neither important nor unknown to him what the look and nonverbal state meant. 

Instead he removed the shirt that was also covered in blood. He carefully checked over Sheres’s torso just to be sure he only needed to worry about the sniper’s hands. Once he was certain, he brought over a bowl of water, bacta spray, bandages, and a small length of cloth. With expert precision, Mereel wiped off all the blood starting to cake around Sheres’s knuckles and in the creases of his palms. 

Mereel was extra careful drying the skin with the cloth, his own hands showing tiny scars from his own missions. He then carefully wrapped Sheres’s palms with the bandaging that was sprayed by bacta. Once finished, he offered a calming smile to Sheres who stared blankly back.

Another person may have been annoyed by Sheres not even saying thank you, but Mereel was experienced enough to know Sheres was incapable of saying it at the moment, not even a greeting would pass his lips for a while. All that mattered to Mereel was that Sheres had made it back relatively safely. 

With another reassuring smile, Mereel got up and went about cleaning the area of the supplies and getting rid of the evidence that was the bloody shirt. He was far more used to their roles being reversed, but didn’t mind the chance of paying the Alpha back. 

By the time the Null got back from tossing the shirt far away from both the safe house and the scene of the somewhat botched assassination, Sheres had managed to finally stand up but was still in a bit of a daze as he raided the conservator for something, anything, that his stomach wouldn’t disagree with. Mereel hovered by the door as it hissed closed behind him to give Sheres time to look over and not be startled too badly, which he did barely a second after the door closed.

Sheres was still silent but gave a nod of thanks. Mereel nodded back before walking closer. He gently touched Sheres’s lower back and dipped his head to lightly contact with Sheres’s temple. The side Keldabe kiss brought a smile to the Alpha’s face for the first time that standard day.

Even though only one of them was actually mute for the time being, Mereel didn’t say anything if only because this wasn’t the first time this had happened and so it was just easier to be together in silence rather than Mereel awkwardly filling the room with his voice. He lightly tapped a short rhythm on Sheres’s lower back and the Alpha stepped away from the conservator. 

In no time, Mereel had gathered up some of the meager foodstuffs he had stocked for the duration of their mission. Not long after, the smell of food filled the small apartment. Sheres watched nearby; it was calming seeing Mereel practically dance through the kitchen like  master chef.

Sheres was halfway through his meal when something of a trauma aftershock darted through his mind. Before Mereel could ask what was wrong, Sheres was almost all the way down the hallway to the tiny bedroom. The Null caught up with the Alpha quickly, though, but made sure to keep a respectful distance. Forcing Sheres to talk through it at this stage would have been a terrible idea. But he hated just watching.

The sniper paced restlessly, mouth moving but no words actually coming out. His hands opened and closed, but any pain the action caused was ignored. Eventually he sat on the foot of the bed, though it looked more like he collapsed on it.

Mereel waited a few aching heartbeats. He then stepped closer, slowly, watching Sheres for a sign that he didn’t want company. But instead Sheres just sat, staring at the floor and cradling his hands together.

The Null crouched down in front of Sheres and reached out with both hands to cup Sheres’s slightly larger ones. The touch startled Sheres slightly, but that in itself was a good thing.

They sat like that for what felt like hours but was actually minutes, but in a good way. The touch, the quiet, gave Sheres time to put his mind back in order.

Again, Sheres’s mouth moved but no words came out. Even so, Mereel whispered soothing words and insisted Sheres not force anything. Sheres gave a look of frustration. Now that he was out of danger, out of his violent visit down memory lane, he needed to debrief Mereel.

Mereel felt guilty, though. They both knew that regardless of the fact Sheres had the training for it, close quarters stuff was not in his wheelhouse. Mereel should have been the one to do it. But the Alpha had insisted since Mereel had just come back from another mission that had not involved Sheres. Missions together were sadly quite rare, despite the reasons being rather ridiculous.

“Blood,” Sheres rasped suddenly, the word automatically coming out in Mando'a rather than Basic. He had, after all, grown up with Mando'a first with Basic ironically second.

“Gone. No trace.” The response was in the same language. Mereel did not entirely mean the blood itself, but all that it had splattered on.

“Hands,” the word came out with an almost forlorn look.

“Will heal fine.”

The short phrases were often a hallmark of recovery from “episodes” as they were known. Neither was doing it to be condescending.

“Ambush,” Sheres finally ‘explained’ why he had come back in the state he had. Mereel could not hide his surprise at the word. They had been so sure the target was unaware of the so-called price on his head. “Seemed clear. Explosive. Distraction.”

“You don’t have to debrief me right this second, cyar,” Mereel reassured.

In response, Sheres lightly squeezed Mereel’s hands as if to say “I must”. It wasn’t the first time he had been ambushed, but too many variables had lined up to dredge up the memories of the worst one of his life. In fact, he was usually triggered by smells instead of action or sight.

Sheres was about to continue when a soft kind of chime interrupted him. His gaze turned to the datapad nearby that had been programmed to let them know whenever a news report mentioned certain words. Mereel begrudgingly untangled his hands from Sheres’s so he could get up and pick it up. He angled it so his partner couldn’t see the screen, making Sheres frown.

“–it will take some time to piece together the events here today. As you can see, barely any part of this room is bloodless. For some time it was assumed the victim had been ripped apart so badly there were no solid parts left to piece back together.”

Mereel almost muted the datapad until Sheres gave him a look that stopped him. He needed to know.

“And indeed, it seems he is one step away from being mere pulp. At this time there are no suspects and basically zero leads. Whoever did this knew what they were doing, even if they seem to have gone a little out of control. In this next room we found the very few remains of a weapons dealer that the Republic has been after for some time. We found traces of a second person but no indication that they were also brought to an almost pulp. While they may be the cause, the investigators will not be treating it as a manhunt but rather a rescue effort.”

Sheres looked away and down to his hands. While Alpha 17 was the most proficient of the Alphas in close quarters, Sheres was no slouch in rendering his opponent to being mush. The explosive had helped though, in ways the target had not expected.

Even though it was sanctioned, the two ARCs were quite used to their missions being swept under the rug, the paperwork filed under ‘highly classified until further notice’. So neither were surprised at the prospect that the local law enforcement would investigate. They knew that if the local LEOs got too close to figuring it out though, that Republic spook overseers would take the necessary action.

If only Sheres had managed to take the target out in the way they had planned it. They had leeway for mission success that many other clones didn’t but that also did not mean Sheres would shrug over how it had truly gone down.

“Sorry,” Sheres mumbled as Mereel turned the datapad off.

“No. Not your fault. You got the job done and came home. That is what matters.”

Sheres clenched his eyes shut before slowly burying his face into Mereel’s shoulder. I want to be better, echoed in his head. Mereel sighed and rested his cheek on Sheres’s head. 

“Vor’e.”

“Always.”