#nothing will ever beat cody in my eyes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

echoedcrosshairs · 2 years ago

Text

Those Who Fight Together - part 1

Summary: Introduction of undescribed Jedi female meeting The Bad Batch in 3rd person and story set up. 🖤Smut with a Plot🖤

Characters: Reaper (nicked of undescribed 1st person), The Bad Batch (Hunter, Tech, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair) and some other clones

Warning: NSFW towards the middle, Crude Language, Hook Up’s, PiV Smut, Walked in On, mild mention of Rank

Word Count: 3.1k

Part 2

18+ NO MINORS

Story Master List

You had already read the files on each of them but there was always more to a person then heartless paperwork. Cody brought them and was excited to show you them. They were standing in line at attention when you walked up. You eyed each of them up and down letting your eyes trail over their muscle and various distinct features. You grabbed the cyborg known as Echo by the chin and titled his head back and forth so you could admire the implants letting him go and moved on to the next one, it was the first time you had ever seen a clone with corrective googles, Tech, you tried to stick you’re finger between the band and his head but it didn’t budge. Useful. Looking up at a big musclier clone, Wrecker, made you feel slightly uncomfortable you didn’t even know they could be made like that and wondered if everything about him was big. You poked the hardness of his arm, you let out a small hmph. The next one was doing his best to hide a very obvious grimace, Crosshair, you stared into his eyes and saw nothing but darkness staring back. This one was going to be annoying and a buzzkill. The next one was leader of the group, Hunter, being aware of his enhanced senses you very gently tilted his face to the side so you could get a good look at the skull tattoo on his face. Stepping away from them you put your hands behind your back. The thought of being stuck with five hot me for who knows how long made your heart in lower places skip a beat. Definitely going to have to get this out of my system first.

“What was that about?” Wrecker said looking at where you poked him.

“You boys are heading out with General Reaper to recover a lost Jedi artifact that would be very dangerous in sSeparatist hands,” Cody said with a small grin, “Maybe we’ll all go out for drinks when you get back. Good luck and try to have fun with them” he said to you before turning and leaving you with what was suppose to be the best squad for the job.

You stripped off the traditional black robes, much to their surprise and to expose the sleek armor underneath. You put your lightsabers in a side pocket and reached for your blaster holsters from the pack you left by Cody’s feet during the inspection. Two small blasters on your sides and a longer on your hip. You rolled up the robe up and shoved it in the pack, swinging it into place on your back letting it latch.

“Sergeant Hunter, prepare the ship for a run into the depths of the outter rim. Make sure we got enough of everything to be stranded for a couple weeks. Now if anyone needs me, I’m off to 79’s come get me when you’re done,” you said looking at the ship a few clicks away, “Also paint over that, where we’re going you don’t identifiable markings like that,” you said with a small whistle at the senator artwork they had done.

The big boy sighed but nodded. You sprinted off in the direction Cody headed and managed to catch up with him. You wrapped your arm around his neck and rubbed your knuckles into his hair distressing it, his boys were of course watching and they were very aware of how much you liked to embarrass them.

You pointed at the nearest clone who was staring, “Keep staring and you’ll be next Boil.” All of the other clones put their heads down and didn’t want to be the next victim of your sisterly taunting.

“General,” Cody said maneuvering out of your hold, “What was that for,” he said fixing his hair and putting his helmet on so you couldn’t do it again.

“The squad you gave me looks like a bunch of sticks in the mud, you know how boring this assignment is going to be?” You said crossing your arms, “What am I suppose to do with a group of guys who look like they can’t have a good time?”

“Commanders Wolffe’s team has been pulled for assignment after their shore day today.”

“The pack is at 79’s?!”

“Oh no.”

“Come on let’s go,” you said yanking his arm practically out of his socket.

“Have to check in with General Kenobi first.”

“Master?!” Your face lit up.

You hummed temple rhymes as we entered the command room to find Obi looking over a data pad. When he heard your hum he turned around and his face light up. It had been a while since you trained under him but he was definitely fond of your unorthodox methods.

“It’s been awhile. Nice to see you’re still forgoing traditional entire.”

“More comfortable,” you chipped with a shrug, “not every tradition needs to be followed to the letter.”

“Just try not to get into much trouble this time.”

“She’s walking trouble,” Cody mumbled.

“Commander, have fun we can have this meeting when she ships out.”

“Wooot, let’s go cause trouble,” which got a major eye roll from Obi.

Cody ushered me towards the unsuspecting speeders tucked away in a corner, you always wondered how the clones snuck out time to time. You let out an audible laugh flinging your leg over it and starting it. There is no way the higher ups didn’t know these were here because they had the signature squadron colors on them it would definitely be hard to miss the bright orange, blue and green color amongst the white ships. You were surprised however they would turned a blind eye to it. You and Cody raced towards 79’s. Switching off the bike letting it drift to a stop and jumped off just as it stilled. Cody rolled his eyes, he knew it was his treat. We walked in to find the boys huddled in the back eating with fresh drinks.

“Loose Lips,” Wolffe grinned.

“She embarrassed me in front of all the boys already,” Cody said putting his hands up before sliding into their booth.

“I’ll grab us some drinks,” you said already walking off to the counter.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a boring place like this,” a shiny said his finger doing a circle in the air motioning to be on the only non clone on the premises.

“General, what can I get ya?” The bar tending clone said walking over.

“Just two drinks, managed to drag Mr. boring bones in during his shift,” I smiled watching the color drain from the shiny’s face, “because just like you, I’m a soldier who needs a night out,” you said grabbing the two drinks and winking at him.

“Darren giving you a rough time?” Wolffe said raising an eyebrow, at who was obviously one of his shinys.

“Nah, it was kind of cute. Definitely better than the last one,” chugging half the glass down in one go, “might be cuter after a couple of these,” you said spinning the liquid in the glass staring at the embarrassed trooper when you noticed the two grey stripes down his sleeve. Hmph, wonder what he did to earn that most clones didn’t have marks on their regular clothing.

“This time don’t leave your strays forgetting where they left their civvies. There are only so many half truths I can come up with,” Wolffe said rolling his eyes.

Somehow you were always getting in trouble with one of his men, they we’re different from the rest. While all clones basically looked alike, they definitely didn’t think alike and he usually always got the toughest and smartest ones.

You bashed your lashes at him in a joking manner, “I would do no such thing,” but everyone knew they was a lie.

After a few more drinks everyone was having fun, arm wrestling each other and seeing how long it took to wake up after a stun shot. Ironically you beat them all by being able to wake up with in a perfect four minutes even though they spent stunning each other for fun, but not surprisingly Wolffe was four minutes and eleven seconds and Cody in third place like always.

“One of these days I’ll best you for time.”

“Only in your dreams.”

“I’ll get us another round,” you said letting them jokingly bicker at each other.

Darren was still sitting at the counter drinking alone, you walked over to him out of curiosity, “why aren’t you with your brothers?”

“Ever been stuck in the barracks with your brothers for weeks on end? Sometimes quiet is the new sanity,” then it clicks with him you’re not a clone, “or stuck with anyone for that long,” he quickly added.

“I have and you’re right, I don’t know how I don’t smother them time to time. What are the stripes about?”

“I’m daring,” he said with annoyed coated laugh, “During training I never followed the regulation path so it’s just a reminder to think outside the lines.”

You looked over at the pack exchanging credits on what probably bets about how the night would end. Wolffe gave you a tiny thumbs up when none of them were looking. A little hmph escaped your mouth, wasn’t often they approved of your mischievous behavior. Slipped the bar tender a few extra credits, he laughed and nodded off towards the back room handing you two more drinks.

“Coming,” you purred to Darren as you got up.

“Just try to be quiet,” the bar tender whispered.

The gambling lounge tucked around the back was empty, the gambling tables mostly empty but for abandoned wagers left out. The shiny gulped down his drink, so you gulped down yours. You didn’t know why you found clones so attractive, maybe it the was the caramel eyes or perfect smiles.

He was breathing deeply trying to figure you out, his heart fluttering when he watched you down the drink. His heart raced faster when you stepped closer to him, you were staring up at him with a mischievous smile. Might have been his first time around a woman but you definitely peaked his interest.

You fiddled with his civvies, pulling off his gloves one at a time with your teeth and then removed his cap in one swoop exposing deep brown hair with some dyed grey streaks running threw it. Yep, you thought, definitely one of pack. Running your hand up his chest you could feel the race in his heart as the muscles underneath refused to hide anything. He helped by unfastening his shirt so his bare chest was exposed, letting you run your fingers up and down his chest. While clones weren’t born with the urge to reproduce, they definitely dance with a little a little bit of help. You slowly took off each of your blasters and holsters and set them down and kicking them away. You placed his hands on the straps of your legging, allowing him to set the pace if he wanted to take them off. You looked down definitely noting that it got his attention, that your certain favourite part was starting to bulge out. Before you gave him time to decide, you chose you didn’t need pants right now. You bought one of your legs up to his side, letting the other hold you up so you could slowly grind into that bulge. He run his fingers around your leg, feeling the hidden muscle underneath.

“Should we really be doing this General?” He said red glowing over his cheeks.

“Consider it an order if you want too,” you whispered in his ear feeling him fill out more under you.

You pulled him over to the sofa taking off his pants, leaving his bare legs and other things exposed. Slowly you took off the panties you were wearing and pushed him down onto the couch. Gently you played with his choobies watching his dick pulse with the sensation. A small moan escaped him, dragging your finger up you grabbed firmly around his member. You pumped it up and down with a tiny twist watch the euphoria spread across his face. His breathing hitched, he was getting close. How cute. You angled yourself above him and slammed yourself down on him as hard as you could. A loud ahhh escaped him with the new sensation, something warm and wet hugging him in all of the right places. You brought your mouth to his to muffle the moans escaping both of you as you bounced up and down him, he was definitely hard enough to make your walls twitch around his added girth. One of hands traced the back of your neck tickling your spine, you bit down on his lip gently but forcibly.

“General-“ he panted between kisses, “what’s that feeling-“

“Just enjoy it Trooper,” you purred kissing down his neck maybe biting a little to hard at the base of his neck. A little mark to give his brothers something to talk about.

His hands reached for your hips almost pleading to be pushed over what was probably a very short ledge. You could see the blissful tension in his face and feel his dick squirming in you. You teased him a little bit by slowing down, his nails dug into you causing you’re own warm fluid to kiss the tip of his dick. You started shaking, it’s been a while since you last came. He picked you up and laid you down on the gambling table, it was just the perfect height for him to be standing in front you where you could see his chest and face. You let out a small giggle, as he brought one your legs to his shoulders. You could feel him pressing deeper in you, he kissed your ankle and cupped your hips with both of his hands squeezing. You started to feeling more warmth gathering and your vagina squeezing around him.

“Harder” you panted squirming under him.

“Like this” he asked like he was asking for your approval as he pulled himself out and then slammed into your cervix.

“Mhm,” you moaned as he slammed into your cervix again a little hard this time.

We’re both were to busy feeling each other when Tech walked in to the trooper to cumming in you “General” he said panting while digging into my hips, his eyes looking at you in wonder.

As much as you kept wanting to stare at his beauty, your head leaned back to see a shocked expression and horrified on Tech face, “Took you boys long enough,” I squeaked in between the convulsions of the orgasms, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Excuse me,” Tech staring down promptly at his data pad and backing out.

You heard a muffled “I warned you,” from the other side of the door.

You looked back up to see the mortified look on the troopers face who was just starting to go soft inside you, you leaned up very carefully to touch his face, “Hey don’t sweat it,” you said gently pulling him out and nibbled on his ear lobe, “when I get back I’ll make it up to you.”

You grabbed one of the old towels and put it inbetween my legs for the cum to dripped onto.

“Why are you waiting for them?” He asked his warm composure coming back.

“A trip to the outter rim to retrieve an ancient Jedi artifact.”

“I’m going get dressed, before someone else walks in. CT-9732 when you get back,” he said leaning down and kissing you again, slightly getting better each time.

Your eyes trailed the forms of his body, the muscle and curvature of the definition. It almost made you want him to take again before leaving. You sighed and finished sitting forward for the rest of the cum to noisily drip out. You stood up holding the towel under you making sure it was done, and it was. You rolled up the towel and hide it under the table. The trooper gave you one more look with a huge blush a crossed his face, before leaving. You couldn’t remember the last time someone blushed over you like that. You fastened your armor back on so you could face the awaiting embarrassment outside of the room. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened; at least it wasn’t Obi. You plastered a dumb smile on your face and found your way back to where Cody and Wolffe were waiting.

“I told you he wouldn’t mark her, hand over the credits.”

“He’s definitely… different,” you said accidentally letting a small blush appear across your face and you’re voice was almost dreamy.

Wolffe handed the credits back to Cody, “told ya.”

“Regs,” Crosshair scowled walking over looking at who your choice was with the rest of the batch. His eyes beamed down at you, trying to pierce you with his anger and… something carnal.

“We’ll go out for drinks and maybe some drunk racing when I get back, you boys take care and tell Obi I said good luck on Mistori.”

“How did you-“ Cody said, “Right.”

I laughed, “Alright come on boys let’s get out of here.”

Tech didn’t even look at me, his face was glued to his datapad very obviously trying hide embarrassment? It was almost kind of cute. Thinking about it, you wondered if Hunter could smell the hormones and sex on you. It kind of made you a little turned on thinking about it. Tech was unfortunately the tour guide of the Marauder, never once looking at you, but showed you where the bunks were and the room they cleared out for you not knowing exactly what a female or Jedi needs.

“I think we need to talk about the Bantha in the room,” you said stepping infront of him.

“It’s a natural biological need, although I was unaware that the Regs could feel such a need because it wasn’t something we were designed to do. It was definitely data I did not need nor a position I needed to see my commanding officer in.”

“I’m going to trapped here with a bunch of guys for week, you do have to admit it was the best option at the time.”

“That… Yes actually was for the best,” he said looking up but not quiet looking at me either, “I would however use the refresher and get cleaned up. If I can still smell it on you, Hunter most definitely can.”

That was hot. “Yeah, point me in the direct.”

He lead me to a small room with, “be quick”, he said practically shoving my inside and shutting the door.

You rolled your eyes and peeled off your armor & let it hit the floor piece by piece. Just incase they were listening, however you didn’t know if it was to prove a point you were going to clean up or to tease them. As soon as you stepped in the shower you realized the other side of the shower were the boy’s bunk because you pressed your ear up against the wall you could hear a mild wet noise and a whispered ‘kark’ as a moan. It wasn’t long until you lifted your leg a little bit where you could play with yourself until you heard the other side finish with an almost intentional splat against the wall.

202 notes · View notes

yourneighborhoodporg · 10 days ago

Text

The Guardian

Chapter 12: Separated

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of war injuries and medical solutions, angst, light banter, confused Ani, Obi hurtin' :(, special guest 👀, guilty reader, Cody my bff, allusion to self-sacrifice, Ahsoka doing her best, wow everyone needs like so much therapy.

Summary: When the Republic's secret medical station becomes the Separatist's next target, you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are forced back together from across the Galaxy to confront the threat. However, as you lead your end of the charge, distractions of the weeks prior cloud your thoughts and coerce you to confront the culminating impact of Qui-Gon's death. Hoping for a distraction from the consequent blunders, you try to focus on the mission at hand. Until an unexpected force's personal journey compels you to deeply reflect on your own.

Song Inspo: I Lost a Friend — FINEAS

Words: 12.8K

A/n: I'M ALIVEE. Apologies for the lengthy hiatus. Life got really crazy but I'm back with some more of ✨The Guardian✨ (and I'm going to start working on the requests in my inbox soon I promiseee!). Remember to comment with what you want to see in future chapters. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

For these words of good, evil, and contemptible are ever used with relation to the person that useth them: there being nothing simply and absolutely so; nor any common rule of good and evil to be taken from the nature of the objects themselves — Thomas Hobbes

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan huffed impatiently from the convergence on the Negotiator’s bridge, arms folded neatly across the chest as he absorbed with purposefully raking eyes the striking, streaky holocomm image of his former Padawan’s excited upper torso.

The azure image sheepishly fluttered against the backdrop of glowing round sensors and flashing rectangular buttons. Their various configurations and proportions formulating the prismatic hemicircle control panel which stretched out beneath the trapezoidal viewport, evenly segmented to swallow the far wall. An enveloping frame that transformed the barrier into an existence of distant, flickering stars amidst an endless, jet-black mass that hardly distinguished it as a wall at all.

At least, not to Obi-Wan.

To the Master Jedi, it was an unseen path. A blindness rallying Force-sensitives’ reliance on the all-encompassing flow that had always guided his each and every move. Yet, there was such a thing as being too far out to sense its intricate indications of a war that spanned countless parsecs. And that meant, even to a Jedi with a warship each straddling his spearlike class leader, a Galactic war could pose quite the surprise at any turn.

And fuel a steady disquiet in moments like these, when the Force felt awfully clouded by an imperceptible numbness.

Though that was far from the main distraction drawing Master Kenobi’s heavily pointed eye beyond his maneuvering lips.

“You simply cannot be late to an emergency meeting you yourself called.”

“My bad, Master,” Anakin expelled.

Though his neck remained creaked downwards with baby blue eyes flicking side-to-side, acting as tight straws siphoning in information beyond Obi-Wan’s view. Each beat punctuated by the Jedi’s shoulders subtly gesturing alongside hand movements inputting far-off data. And just as smoothly as the Chosen One’s mind navigated the rolling screens Kenobi had imagined he was negotiating, the self-assured former Padawan still seemed to effortlessly communicate the situation at hand.

“Ahsoka and I had to get the strike force out and moving toward Grievous’s ship first. We might not have as much time as we thought.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan hummed while curiously eyeing the young Jedi, brows shifting from unease at his words as once crossed arms released to their respective, comfortably postured sides. “Care to share?”

“Still waiting on one more invite to this meeting,” Anakin explained, invisible fingers finally allowing forearms to rest as his shoulders relaxed into a slump, followed by a fluttering blue gaze now attentively rising toward the bearded Jedi.

Odd, Kenobi mused. Usually Anakin’s last-minute calls either involved relaying information vital to the war efforts or, in most cases, a change of plans— either of which Obi-Wan could easily pass along through the necessary channels. Rarely did it necessitate others’ involvement. And it surely couldn’t have included another Council member, since they would’ve arrived in an earlier fashion as the Master Jedi himself.

“Who?” Obi-Wan questioned.

But before Anakin even had a chance to release his jaw in response, a new holographic swirled into existence beside him, completing the triangle of bodies with a deep-bellied thrum.

A similarly flickering, cobalt specter whose back revealed the robed figure’s linen-wrapped arms and legs and lightly armored shoulders leisurely swiveled to face the holocomm’s emitter. Yet, despite the uniform tinge that consumed all such holographic images, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but divert his trailing gaze up their wears onto the set of sharp, gleaming eyes that secreted a hint of silver.

And after a brief pause in which those very same eyes adjusted to the forms before them, an inkling of once quirked lips and lifted cheeks trickled into a singular expression of finished neutrality and professionalism.

One too novel to be shared among friends.

“Master Kenobi,” you nodded simply.

Obi-Wan’s steady chest faltered with an uncomfortable celerity.

It’d been only a week or so since he’d seen you last. Even longer since Obi-Wan left you in your quarters that evening following the surprise ambush on Lanos. And, now that he thought about it, likely two weeks since the bearded man began to notice how the air between you two grew more delicate as your tactful efforts to mold a parrying dullness swelled into a steady rainfall.

A fortnight since you appeared to have misplaced his first name.

It was as subtle as standing on the opposite side of a leadership meeting, deliberately placing yourself between two clones who’d naturally allow the General a respectful gap between himself and the Regiment. It was the conscious avoidance of the Negotiator’s refractory whenever Kenobi experienced a rare chance to sit down for a meal, or the decision to reside on the mirror end of the chamber when he was present. And it was the one time you did finally engage with him a few days later during a system strategy meeting that took place by way of a similar holocomm exchange.

“Master Yoda expressly stated that King Katuunko would only allow the alliance negotiations between himself and the Senator representative on Rugosa to continue as long as a Jedi emissary was present,” Master Plo Koon continued neatly with his black, patchwork eye guards trained on General Kenobi.

“Don’t the Toydarians know we don’t have the manpower for a babysitter?” Anakin rather agitatedly expressed, nostrils flaring into his thick eyebrows as if repulsed by a pungent smell. “Even if we did send someone, it would be no use to them.”

“For once, I must agree with my former Padawan,” Obi-Wan lyrically vocalized with a hand subconsciously motioning at the idea. “I highly doubt that a Jedi would rival a trained senator in the exercise of diplomacy.”

“I can go, Master!” Ahsoka piped up brightly from her Master’s rear with lifted eyelashes and gently shaken montrals. “I mean, if it’s just a Jedi that needs to be there, I can do that.”

Anakin glared at the young Togruta with thinned lips, deliberately crossing his arms and angling to the side all to firmly mutter a simple command:

“Not now, Snips.”

“I’ll go.”

Obi-Wan’s head whipped toward your once noiseless form stood a few meters off from him, staring into the collection of holograms opposite its emitter with a steely creed buttressing each syllable as dancing, sapphire illuminations molded interlacing shadows to distort your countenance.

“That seems appropriate,” Master Plo readily spouted, head nodding neatly in agreement while his charcoal antiox breath mask bobbed along otherwise elliptically sculpted, ochre features.

But what Master Plo did not yet know, was that beyond this political snafu, Obi-Wan too had his own ongoing obligation to manage. The task of integrating The Guardian into the Order while ensuring their protection from dark forces who were sure to take action if they’d learned of your identity, and what that meant. A danger so great, that Master Yoda had yet to decide on how to inform the rest of the Council about its development. And with that, came the task of keeping you as far away as possible from blackened powers so to guarantee such a calamitous future never saw the light of dawn.

So, considering your state of being in the days prior, more than ever did Obi-Wan sense your disregard for these concerns from such an offer.

It was the wrong time for you to be going off on your own. And Obi-Wan had a responsibility to make that known.

“Silvey has been assigned by the Council to assist me with my Regiment,” he countered quickly, bolstered by a charged arc, yet even tread. “I do not believe I can do without them at this moment. They are also recovering from an injury during one of our most recent run-ins with the Separatists, which I’m sure requires more time to heal.

But not even the seasoned Jedi himself was truly prepared for the sheer impersonality of your businesslike regard as you twisted toward his form with an expressive detachment that, when compared to the prior months, rendered you unrecognizable to his vigilant, cerulean eyes.

“Master Kenobi,” you spoke evenly. “My leg is healed enough after a few days with a bacta patch. And I trust that you’ll be able to carry out the rest of this mission without me.”

Your true stare remained levied on his gaze as a hushed exhale fell past your lips. So placidly, that were Obi-Wan’s attention not solely focused on your next words, he would’ve certainly missed the faint wobble coloring its receding steps.

“I’m putting in a formal request to be temporarily transferred to Rugosa so to aid in their negotiations.”

Even now, a week later on the Negotiator’s bridge when faced with two Jedi dialing in from thousands of parsecs away, Obi-Wan recalled the tenuous stiffness that tugged at his breastbone in that moment. The sinking weight accompanying his realization made right then and there:

That his efforts to keep you nearby so to have any hope of acting as a barrier between you and the dark forces watching from the shadows was only forcing you to yank farther away from his necessary observation.

Maybe that’s why, for the sake of your future collaboration,

For your budding friendship,

The Master Jedi settled to meet you where you were at. To give in to exactly what you were pressing for in order to ensure your safety.

To give you… space.

It was with restraint equal to your own, Obi-Wan remembered, with which he approved the request. Respectfully downcast eyes and a simple nod had sent you on your way later that very same day, along with a small group of clones led by the reputable Commander Cody. The only clone in General Kenobi’s Regiment that he truly trusted to keep an eye on you in his place.

And a soldier the General knew would follow any carefully communicated instructions to the letter.

Still, Obi-Wan hadn’t predicted that it would take this long to cross paths with you again.

“You look well,” Kenobi expressed with scant ineptitude, granting enough freedom to the interval in between your spoken word and his to give pause to Anakin’s freshly perceptive expression, which raised a curious brow at the duo.

“The negotiations are wrapping up nicely,” you formally relayed, seemingly ignoring Skywalker’s questioning bearing in favor of communicating a timely report. “My squad and I are cleared for departure and may rendezvous with The Negotiator whenever it’s convenient.”

“That’s good timing, because we’ve got a problem,” Anakin butted in, suspiciously shifting gaze left to the wayside in favor of narrowed brows that was the Chosen One’s signature expression of solemnity. “Grievous’s warship attacked a convoy of medical transports near Ryndellia. We think he’s after Kaliida Shoals.”

“The medical center?” Obi-Wan questioned with thinly veiled surprise. “Anakin, that facility was supposed to be a secret. How did the Separatists learn of its existence?”

“I don’t know,” Skywalker echoed. “But they know about it now. My squad of Y-wings are taking a shortcut, but I’m not sure if we’ll get there in time.”

“I’ll contact the Naboo to request their assistance and let the facility know that I’m on my way as well,” Obi-Wan assured.

“Warn them of my arrival too,” you promptly raised, drawing Kenobi’s attention to ambivalently narrow at your words.

Though that did little in the way of stifling your stride.

“I’m closest so I’ll help with the evacuations. There’s probably an extra fighter here that I can borrow since we have so many protecting the negotiations. That way I can get there before the Naboo fleet.”

You nodded to yourself, seemingly appreciating the evolving plan as it swirled into existence past still-moving lips. "My clone squad will follow behind with a larger ship to supplement the facility’s escape shuttles.”

“No Silvey,” Obi-Wan voiced, tongue fluttering your name for the first time in a while. “That will bring you quite close to a Separatist leader. Something Master Yoda has advised you to avoid.”

He raised an emphatic brow, even restraining his voice as if an empty room of swirling sensors and buttons could decipher its meaning.

“We have your identity to think about.”

“The risk is low,” you expounded toward the bearded Jedi unflinchingly. “I doubt General Grievous has any desire to contact that facility directly.”

Then, while a touch of uncertainty skidded by upturned eyelashes, your hands rolled into a shrug as you twisted to address both men equally.

“Either way, isn’t this why I was requested to join this meeting? Because of my proximity?”

“Silvey’s right, Obi-Wan,” Anakin posited, angling toward the cerulean-eyed Jedi’s less-than-merry gaze. “They’re our best chance at getting the facility evacuated in time before the ion weapon arrives.”

Master Kenobi couldn’t help how Anakin’s unfortunately reasonable words delivered a feeble pinprick to his adeptly impartial posturing, breaching the seal for a taste of his inner thoughts to leak out in the form of a finely charged sigh that expelled through set nostrils. Stiff fingers reaching to stroke the corners of his auburn beard as if to draw out the rest of the swelling frustration that narrowed cobalt orbs into tapered brows.

And from the chilly, detached churn of your sideways peer at his form, Obi-Wan could still markedly discern that, no matter the stony stance you attempted to elicit by pitching your arms akimbo, the veiled fashion with which you chewed at your inner lip exposed just how stubborn you remained to his argument. Even when the cogs of your mind turned in a direction opposite to your body.

Though, in which bearing, he did not know.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Anakin suddenly queried, lips parted slightly while he puzzledly peaked at you both.

Yet by the way in which your glittering silver eyes cast asunder from his own, chest rising as you deeply inhaled into its discomfited crevice with a mind reflecting focus on some other Rugosian movement, Obi-Wan understood that this was perhaps a poor time to concentrate on such a subject.

“Fine, I’ll inform Nala Se of your arrival,” Obi-Wan yielded as his shoulders relented his beard-stroking arm to the side, all while your ever-watchful gaze returned to his. “But bring your squad along. They will be unable to aid you if left to follow along in a slower ship.”

“Time is of the essence, Master Kenobi,” you straightly reminded. “The fighters on Rugosa are the fastest transports available, but they only have room for a copilot at most.”

“Then take Commander Cody,” the elder Jedi practically ordered.

Obi-Wan watched as the ligaments in your throat twitched from your quiet swallowing.

“Yes… General,” you acquiesced with delicately raised brows pitched over lips pursed illusively.

Yet that retort appeared to only heighten the incontrovertible befuddlement that nearly furrowed Anakin’s brows into his monitoring baby blue eyeballs.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan expelled before his former Padawan had the chance to probe any further through loose lips. “Our main mission is to protect that facility. We all know our part. Comm this channel with any updates.”

Roping his hands to fold back into each other against a straightened spine, the Master Jedi ended the meeting of quivering blue, holographic streaks and notably disparate impressions with one last memento.

“May the Force be with you both.”

—

No matter the weightlessness of your footsteps, your treading boots still kindled soft, echoing thumps like an infant flame as you traversed the narrow, cubic hallway that led to the medical center’s main command. That, of course, meant Commander Cody’s comparably lumbering stride resonated with a vigor that supplied an unforgettable reminder of the facility’s smooth, metal construction like a chronometer. With its reflective navy floors, rusting chalk walls, and highly collaged paneling, it was a wonder how the normal bustle expected in such a regional hub wouldn’t generate an endless barrage of clamoring turbulence.

A testament to the VenteX Construction Yards’ quality technology, according to the short facility report you perused during the brief journey here.

Thank you, Cody, you hoped to say once more. From what you learned in Rugosa, he always seemed to be prepared. And that meant, so were you.

Still, you weren’t ready to bestow praise upon such talented, Republic builders just yet. It was instances like these, in which overwhelming silence subsumed your surroundings like a vacuum sucked out air, and in which a ticking beat centered the mind as would an ancient meditation tool, that you found yourself left with something you were really trying to avoid.

Your thoughts.

It was quite the adjustment, you were beginning to realize. Transitioning from a life of static, icy days to an existence among so many different kinds of beings.

A life of unfamiliarity,

Of war,

And death.

So, so much death.

And it seemed like it only took seizing those experiences in their rawest form and stabbing them into your cerebral cortex like a hammer to a cold, rusty nail for that very catalyst to coerce you into considering their verity, arriving in stillness like a strong gust that stifles breath into unavoidable, beating ruminations.

It compelled you, to finally register, to truly internalize, that Qui-Gon was gone.

Just like Getter, and just like that creature of purity.

Your friend, was gone.

And, in that moment, whatever tiny piece of childlike hope, whatever illogical thought about his return that remained all this time in the deepest crevices of your mind, seemed to disappear too.

You truly were alone.

Until Obi-Wan appeared.

In one of your most conflicting hours, in which you were coming to terms with your Master’s death and the consequences of such a fact, he placed a hand atop your fist. He lifted your chin from troubling thoughts.

And he caressed your hand—

No, you internally adjusted, slightly shaking your head to loosen that particular memory from your mind as your well-adjusted footfalls carried you away from the stiffly wrapped wall paneling by which it fell.

Because you just couldn’t do it.

At least, not right now.

You enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company, you thought. Appreciated his mind, and respected his character. All factors that contributed to the growing friendship you sensed budding between the two of you.

And it was for that exact reason that, in a knee-jerk reaction, you pulled away.

Your mission was Anakin. Guarding the Chosen One. You couldn’t afford the clouded nature your mind embraced as you journeyed through Qui-Gon’s death. And that meant you couldn’t sustain another.

You needed to wait. Felt compelled to temporarily lock the gate to your strengthening fellowship. For, in this unpredictable time of war, if you’d lost him too, your last connection to Qui-Gon, alone would fail to describe the depth with which you’d feel disconnected from the Galaxy.

But, even as you passed through the last charcoal archway into the command center’s grimy white staging area of encompassing red and silver panels and rambunctiously flashing buttons, the new atmosphere failed to in any way hinder the invariably thrumming shame that churned your gut and shifted your demeanor. As you stood beyond the handful of medical clones rushing commands with expertly trained fingers through the computerized workstations lining the rear wall, such excitement too was futile in impeding the elusive hurt that swam behind his cerulean eyes in those memories of avoiding his approaches, attempts at conversation, or dependably questioning gaze.

No matter, for now, with two feet easing into a standstill before the medical officer ranked highest by three red dots hugging his white-draped sleeve and the superior Kaminoan with similar garb wrapped below a protracted neck, you could take comfort in the fact that such a circumstance would never be the case with Anakin.

In all likelihood, considering your position, you’d be the first to go in the line of duty protecting him. He’d always be there while you were around.

At least Obi-Wan was right about that.

“Nala Se, my name is Silvey—“ you uttered clearly, relying on the familiarity of her pearly white complexion and metallic, oval head medallion from your temporary right hand’s report.

Speaking of.

“—and this is Commander Cody,” you nodded at the soldier stood firmly beside you. "We’re here to assist you in any way we can to usher along these evacuations.”

The Chief Medical Scientist of Kamino’s towering figure offered a gradual, appreciative nod which moved as seamlessly as her blackened eyes creased in regard.

“Silvey, Commander Cody,” she acknowledged with an almost regal air and buttery tone. “Master Kenobi informed us of your arrival.”

You bit at your inner lip as a subtle twinge of an already swirling gut twisted at the raw nerves like a freshly seared burn. Though you swiftly brushed it aside, all in favor of absorbing Nala Se’s speech which echoed with congruence to this mission.

“We appreciate having another Jedi here to aid us.”

And it was a good thing you were focusing that weening attention, too, because this was certainly unexpected news.

“Another Jedi?” You questioned aloud while still supporting the movement of your lips atop businesslike breath. “This is great to hear, but, I thought I was the Jedi closest to this facil—“

“—Sectors C, F, and J are ready for transport.”

You barely caught the echo of nimble footfalls that preceded the adolescent voice which rang with a tone leveled only to communicate with clarity, yet tempered beyond any hint of vociferation.

A lick of curiosity hoisting your ears, you comfortably twisted toward the articulation’s source as Cody followed suit beside you, only for silver eyes to land upon a strangely familiar sight…

Teeth-like horns mirrored down their skull tattooed with curving lines and sharply jagged arrows.

Characteristics too similar to that unknown thing. That devil being from your dreams of weeks ago that, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t seem to forget, even when faced with an inkling of similarity that most would not discern.

“Thank you, Mill,” The Chief Medical Officer approved as her arms crossed into a lock behind her pencil-slimmed figure.

“I’ll head to the next set as fast as I can,” Mill expressed confidently.

Yet your thoughts only mulled over that point for a short time. Because as your purposed gaze trailed across other features, like the short tuft of jet black tied just behind her head, the swirling Force encircling her nut-brown vested and ivory-robed being, and the very noticeable limitations of her stature, you quickly realized that this was the Jedi Nala Se spoke of.

But with that also came the observance that this Jedi appeared to be—

“A youngling?” Commander Cody doubted with faintly mixing unease as his hesitant stare drew the lips below into an unlatched slump.

And it was that not-so-subtle oratory that sprung the young Jedi’s button-sized orbs to bounce toward you both, remaining equally unaffected as investigative of the new presence your figures fueled into the surrounding Force.

“Master Jedi Rig Nema and her Padawan Mill Alibeth were recently assigned to this outpost as our Jedi Liason,” Nala Se explained calmly from behind your turned figure. “Although the Healer was temporarily called away a few days ago. It was urgent. I believe to an off-world battle site deemed too dangerous to bring Mill along.”

“Mill,” you expressed to the observing Jedi. “I’d be honored to help you carry out the rest of the evacuations while my Commander aids Nala Se in the remainder of the planning.”

Your straightforward regard quickly flicked both silver orbs toward Cody who was still situated at your side, earning from the attentive Commander a nodding salute to your orders before you refocused that attention on the young woman before you.

“That is,” you progressed with utmost openness. “If you’ll have me.”

Enough to tug a small smile from the Jedi’s stoically taught mouth.

“I could really use the help,” she replied honestly, which lifted your own cheeks as you broke your stance and moved toward the Jedi who stood a few meters away.

“Many of the injured need help and instructions on how to get to the shuttles,” Mill continued with an earnestness that defied the essence of her youthful voice, like a creature who's lived an entire life through glories and hardships in only a few seconds.

“It’s important to note, Silvey,” the Kaminoan opined from the center console, inciting you to halt just as you reached Mill’s being to turn toward the Chief Medical Officer’s words. “We may not have enough shuttles to evacuate the facility’s full complement.

“Let me worry about that, Silvey,” Commander Cody piped up as he shuffled beside Nala Se to take a peek at the data screen emanating below her fingers with focusing brows. “We’ll find a way to make do and get these boys to safety. We have another ship on our tail ready to board as soon as they land.”

You nodded gratefully.

“Here,” Mill cleanly expelled while leaning into a smooth yet charged pace toward the Command Center’s primary exit, leading you to follow along as you passed under that same charcoal-tinted arch into the eerily stagnant hall. “I’ll show you which sectors still need to be evacuated.”

You barely hid the subtle quirk of your lips that momentarily lifted your features as you kept your gait swiftly ahead.

Despite Commander Cody’s assumption that the Jedi careening evenly beside you was simply a Youngling, it remained a struggle to grapple with that preconceived notion. You had to admit that there were few and far between opportunities to engage with peers when you were her age, but that didn’t prevent you from surmising Mill a Being well beyond her years. Still, you tried not to consider why for too long. For no reason other than she, in some ways, reminded you of yourself during those times.

You remembered quite well the experiences you inescapably traversed to develop similar mannerisms. And beyond all else, you understood that independence born out of necessity always craved a modicum of guidance.

At least, that’s what you recalled.

And it was clear that Mill could handle it.

“Have your lightsaber ready,” you advised while the two of you careened around a sharp corner in your trek down the station’s winding passageways. “It comes in handy when you need to lead the way. Especially for large groups.”

A flurry of shuffling, pearly fabric flitted through the air as a duo of medical clones with mahogany brown boots squeaked by you both before disappearing down a left coordinator in a rush that left a slight breeze. All the while you sensed an uneven crinkle shimmy into the Force’s very own cloth as if the slightest touch tugged a loose thread.

“I don’t have one.”

Your once hurried pace drained into a muddled falter, expressive brows stitched into genuine confusion as you angled to fully face the young Jedi. At that same instant, your probing gaze tracked Mill’s depleting drive, siphoned away from a once urgent gate and into a withstanding regard of some tolerant shade. Only leaving heavily relaxed facial muscles as the framing sight from Padawan Alibeth who similarly eyed you head on.

Though you were not yet intimidated.

“Really?” You genuinely inquired, once again asking yourself whether you were showing your lack of knowledge of modern customs. “I thought the ritual of The Gathering happened when a Jedi was still in Initiatehood.”

Yet the slight but unyielding tilt of one addled brow upwards on her otherwise collected expression did thrust you back one mental step to reassess what you’d so impulsively uttered.

“You say that as if you’d not seen them yourself,” Mill expounded, a slight smile crawling up her cheeks to erase any previous hint of uncertainty. “It’s hard to miss the loud groups bouncing down the Temple halls every season.”

You mirrored her expression with a nearly tickled one of your own as you clawed onto the escape Mill had somehow so expertly plopped straight into your palm.

“I’ve been away on a very long mission that spanned on before the war began,” you casually delivered, motioning your hand in the air in place of a shrug. “I suppose it hasn’t helped me in the way of keeping up with current practices.”

You raised your head toward the corridor’s main stretch that tunneled to a turbolift, breathing in the heightened energies spattered throughout the medical station as the sensation drove you to hastily renew your step, like a starship sucking on hypermatter fuel that tugged on Mill to tag along with an invisible lure. A mixing pot of swirling anticipations of what was to come, and a general unease of impending doom that reminded you all too well of the potential conflict had against these Separatist forces if you didn’t reach the appropriate sectors soon.

You exhaled. “And it hasn’t warned me of this Galactic contest’s nature.”

“That’s why I can’t have one,” Mill quickly related, thoughtfully gripping at your attention as she kept pace with each and every step you took to reach the turbolift.

Marking too the first instant you felt a hint of misgiving tempt the flow around you.

As an almost tranquil silence bloomed between you both, you each entered the contraption’s silvery-clear aperture that swirled open at your very presence. It was evident among those slight shuffling and intermittent creaks from an overused transport system, that there were still many words Mill was leaving unsaid. Trapped inside her thoughts much like how the wall of transparisteel at the turbolift’s rear blockaded the vacuuming essence of space from your comparably flimsy forms. Still, such musings did little to stop her from selecting the correct floor on the rusted button panel, clearing the doors to shut, and initiating your leveled descent.

But it was only like that for a moment longer.

“If it’s true that you were gone for all this time, then you didn’t see what I saw,” she released quietly, eyes drilling holes into the turbolift’s aged panel as the soft buzz of its mechanics grayed the silence. “The aftermath of Geonosis. The battles that followed. Maybe you didn’t even see the HoloNet News.”

Mill shook her head with an involuntary drag, rocking her neck as a mother would a crib while the visceral words flowed from her.

“All that blood. The pain. Anguish felt through screens and wires. Through medical encampments. Those people. The ones the Order is suppose to protect. I can see it all.”

“All of it?” You questioned lightly, keeping your eyes respectfully ahead to provide a modicum of space for the young Jedi whose stirring mind was beginning to flower open.

“Each emotion for me…” she twisted her knuckles as if wringing a towel, eyes focused on the nothingness of the solid turbolift ahead. “It’s like a color that’s part of an unbalanced rainbow. And anytime one shows through the Force, I can feel it like a scream in an empty room.”

Until those same button-brown eyes rounded toward your own, burrowing into your very being.

“And every time, in some way, it’s all at the hands of a lightsaber.”

You couldn’t help but hear the distant voice of Qui-Gon Jinn echo through your skull as you absorbed Mill’s eloquent words that swiped one more shallow cut across your understanding of this strange world.

“Only use violence as a last resort, my young Padawan.”

It was clear that holobooks, well-stocked libraries, nor storied pasts would aid you now in understanding how to apply that particular guidance since you’d witnessed Hoth’s sunset for the last time.

All you’d known of the Galaxy was from fantastical holobooks describing the High Republic, but all you’ve known since crowned a Jedi Knight was violence, demise, and despair.

Deep in your bones, you still resonated with the Order’s teachings learned from your former Master and the occasional old-style book he’d bring during his visits, and of course the lightsaber’s symbol throughout history. But for the life of you, there seemed to be no way to truly reveal such truths to a being who’d clearly experienced this time of chaos far longer than you.

“This is not the era I grew up in,” you expressed earnestly, sensing the turbolift slow as a gentle pressure built at your heels like the squeeze that threatened your throat to uncomfortably swallow. “I’m sorry, Mill, that this is what you’ve learned to associate with the Order.”

And just as quickly as those utterances escaped your lips, a dearth of words sucked the air dry.

Because there was nothing else either of you could say.

—

“Alright!” You ringingly called out from the anterior of the chilly sectional recovery hall, drawing the balloon of deep-set, chatting echoes to sputter into an empty husk. The snow-white medical beds evenly distributed against the walls with the occasional cabinet and sporadically placed stone-tinted, blocky armchairs were brimming with disparately injured clones, all of which swiftly angled their attention toward you and Mill who stood quietly by your side as she gazed out at the crowd through a subtle frown.

You tried to keep your eye on the task at hand, mentally calculating how long this evacuation would need to successfully usher out the countless heads beholding you with bated breath for orders, including the small groups that stood at attention in various pockets of the hall the instant you made yourself known. But even though the medium-sized pathway striking through the room’s core offered any flitting gaze a moment of solace from the surrounding carnage, it was not enough of a centering force for your observant mind, which fixated on those scattered, recuperating soldiers who’d so clearly been dealt an inferior hand.

One on the far left sported a thick bandage, wrapped firmly around his corner head all the way down to the eye. And had you not once employed such an old fashioned device in your past, you would’ve thought they were all manufactured to be a crimsoned red. Much like the cuts and scrapes dispersed across visible patches of skin like paint splatter.

The flick of your eye to the room’s other far side, and you couldn’t help but rake your silver stare up and down a clone who’d scurried upwards with the aid of a dodgily constructed cane of metal scraps and angled bolts the moment your resonant voice chimed through the room. It wasn’t until he raised fully that you noticed the black ligature wrapped tightly above one of his knees, and the nothingness that remained below. It just wasn’t there.

His leg. It was gone.

And all he had left to say for it was another arm in a sling that appeared exquisitely clean against the bloodied gauze decorating the hall’s bodies and swipe-stained floors, leaving an eerie odor that only appeared in the Force as a steady pulse of yanking anguish.

Yet still he chose to stand as those with lesser injuries opted to do. To show you a respect you were beginning to wonder if you really deserved.

Though it was easy for a mind thrumming with the ebb and flow of a weighted chest to wander toward that conclusion in any regard. It was fermented more potent by the swirling uncertainty of what to do with Obi-Wan, and the guilt that pushed through the dirt like budding shrubbery.

It was exactly why you needed to accept that guilt, you reasoned. It was what you had to do to center in on the mission at hand. To prevent another lapse in focus like you did when Qui-Gon clouded your thoughts on the battlefield not so long ago.

But the crumbling wall of words that fell like boulders into a lake as they rocketed away from each exchange you shared with Obi-Wan crashed as loud in your mind as did the splash of those heavy rocks.

How are you to focus on the next mission you’re lumped together on? What of when you’re forced to discuss those parts of yourself only a handful of beings know? And when Anakin becomes the topic of discussion, and your eternal tether to him, how will you protect him by pushing his Master away?

Thrusting him away as Mill had with her chance at a lightsaber. The chance at a supporting hand. At something she needn’t fear. And a device, a piece of herself, that if she remained without, would make the trials the young Padawan was bound to face down the road much worse.

Then you were making things worse, you considered fleetingly.

And if in any way you were putting The Guardian’s mission at risk from such decisions, then maybe you really didn’t deserve the eyes of thousands of clones centered on you with an eminence of trust and respect.

But whether you earned it or not, still needed was this attention that accompanied the title of General to lead them to safety.

“Sectors K, L, and M,” you announced with a tight core, reaching your hand to your belt as you wrapped your fingers around the attached saber’s cold hilt.

Springing it free with a whoosh and empowering its gray luminescence to blind the air above you, you displayed its heated might before the hundreds of heads that seemed like mere dots within the six-story ship bay that was converted into a sort of field recovery station, towering in height and breadth beyond some of the larger ships you’d become acquainted with this past month and a half.

“We are evacuating the facility. I want Group 1, all able-bodied clones, to line up in the middle,” you projected, cutting your saber down center for all to clearly see as those who fell into the category sprung or lumbered to their feet with a steadily bustling clamor. “Group 2, men who are unable to move on their own, remain where you are.”

You waited a few moments, allowing these soldiers with patches for wound dressings, injuries dealt to less severe locations, and minimally broken or dislocated bones to bustle toward the central stream against squeaking floors before, handful by handful, the mass of gray-clothed patients turned forward in staggered arrays, most patiently awaiting their next command as whispers flowed by the line like sand through fingers.

“Now,” you began loudly, gesturing between the two groups with your brightly buzzing lightsaber as the mumblings dissipated. “Everyone partner with a person in the other group. Individuals in Group 2 who are unconscious or are otherwise completely bedridden will need two soldiers from Group 1 to take them out on a Hover Stretcher,” you confirmed with two raised fingers.

“Um, Silvey?”

You quickly glanced at Mill’s nervously stitched brows, eager eyes just as distended as her mouth with a battery of words stuck at the tip of her tongue. “We don’t have any more Hover Stretchers.”

It seemed this facility was running low on many necessary supplies during such a frantic evacuation, you marked internally.

Alright, you readily accepted. You’ve dealt with worse.

Your neck flicked back toward Group 1’s already parting sea as the endless line of clones split off to either side of the hall in search of a partner, morphing a once relatively uniform line into an expanding blob of varied, struggled movement.

“No more Hover Stretchers!” You exclaimed swiftly. “Use the bed sheets, or carry them if you have to. Make your way out through the South Entrance in a single file line.”

Raising your saber once more down the middle, you signaled the appropriate exit at the other end of the transformed ship bay.

“Move!”

With a deep breath, you disengaged your saber, keeping your gaze alert while returning it back to your belt with a metallic snap.

“Don’t worry,” Mill expressed calmly, dragging your vigilant survey away from the slingshotting voices reverberating off bordering panels that surrounded clones in various stages of gradually hooking arms with compatriots and carrying each other to the far wall. “We’ll get them all out.”

“I know, Mill,” you smiled gently, warming at her intrinsic compassion while tilting your eyes back toward the swarming clones to assess their progress as a handful began to exit through the South Entrance. “We’re doing well on numbers. I know you’d tell me if we weren’t.”

“Then why are you feeling… regretful?”

Your neck snapped toward the young Jedi, a flood of questions desperately trying to manifest through your features as you held the flood bag with a simply raised brow and a smile faded into tensed lips.

Not Master Jedi, not even a Grand Master, but a Padawan Learner? A Padawan learner was the first to sense a hint of what your mind autonomously hid in the Force? You knew for a fact that your countenance failed to divulge the deep harboring of such an emotion that you were still trying to discern as such.

“You can sense what I’m feeling?” You questioned, perplexed.

“Usually, I can sense a range with groups and people,” she began matter-of-factly, tensed brown eyes swaying toward the buzzing clones before you both. “But yours are pretty clouded. The only reason I can sense that one is because it’s pretty strong.”

Perhaps Mill Alibeth was not only a wise, but a powerful Jedi. And while you certainly sensed a stronger glow in her connection with the Force than others her age that you’ve encountered at the Temple, such a reading remained a speck of sand in an ocean when compared to the Masters who’ve tried again and again to dissect your mind.

Meaning one thing and one thing only.

Something must have changed.

Though what, you had no idea.

A charged yowl cracked through the air like the blast of a horn, reverberating down the hall as a noticeable thump sounded from the same general location before chasing after the dissipating cry into the void.

Your neck snapped toward the tumult’s direction before quickly discovering that the hastening throng of clones rushing past each other to pair up and race for the exit clogged your view of the wider hall from where you stood. Even as you tried to focus your mind on the beings around you, hoping to pinpoint the pain of that cry through the Force to find the afflicted’s position, you struggled to parse through the torrential flood of indistinguishable trauma that clouded your mind as much as your eyes.

Anguish. Agony. Fear. Vexation.

All eddying into a tempest of incomprehensible noise, like pouring every color known to the universe into one bucket of black hole goop.

“This way!” Mill suddenly shouted, grabbing your wrist to tug you along as she sprinted into the crowd.

Your feet caught up to the sudden charge, falling in step with the young Jedi’s hurried pace before she released your arm so that you both could navigate the thicker junctions of the whisking horde. All the while you took particular care in keeping an eye on the small, nut-brown cloak hanging off her back so as not to lose her darting figure in the crowd.

Arms snapped up against your shoulders and torsos collided with your arms while flying commands seemed to cultivate either eardrum as a doorway for the indiscernible racket, leaving you no choice but to adapt to the unstoppable swarm. With each duck and shimmy, you eventually settled into a rhythm through each twist and turn of the crowd. Waves of streaming bodies that crashed into interlocked, haphazard footpaths steered your figure through a slew of precise dodges, all the while you found your focused eye unintentionally memorizing the marginally bobbing hood of Mill’s robe so not to misplace her in the masses. And it was the exact instant that you realized such an intense stare had nearly burned the chaotic rush into your retinas, that the young Jedi finally burst through an opening in the rabble of soldiers fueling gusts of injured groans and strident cries amongst stampeding boots which plunged behind you once the horde finally spit you out.

Your silver eyes adjusted to the far emptier space hugging the hall’s right wall: a handful of medical beds mostly unoccupied and disarrayed with sheets crumpled and tossed asunder from the rapid charge of this evacuation.

That was, except for one bunk on which a clone lay curled into themselves, one hand firmly clutching their leg. Crying out, teeth bare to the ceiling with such might his torment was sure to break right through. It was certainly enough to heighten the two clones who frantically bent over to asses him from either side, wondering aloud through their countenance alone what to do and how to make the awful noise stop.

“What happened?” You pressed firmly, lips depressing into a thin line while you slowed at Mill’s side as the aura of his suffering inked the Force’s everlasting stream with an unavoidable, pounding strikes.

The left soldier spoke with a rich tone as his bushy eyebrows and speckled beard dimmed in anticipation of his own words.

“We tried to move him and his mechnosutures snapped.”

At the same time, you watched as the convulsing clone’s hand slipped from their inner thigh, revealing a deep crimsoned gash that spurted a miniature fountain of blood the instant its spout was uncapped. Splattering the outspoken clone still hunched to his left with a healthy spray across his gray tunic in the injured man’s effort to roll off the cot.

Your eyes widened, the sudden gush which consumed your vision ramming your legs into a full sprint before propelling you to nearly leap atop the gravely wounded man as you jammed two fingers into the humid cavity to cork the leak.

“Mill!” You called over your shoulder as you struggled to find and hold the bleed that oozed past your fingers with a steady, warm pulse. “Bacta spray!”

“We’re all out on this side of the station, sir!” The right clone sporting a young, bare face interjected just as Mill darted to your side.

“It’ll take too long for any one of us to make that trip,” the opposite soldier noted, brushing any remnant cerise droplets from his deep-stained shirt as he rose to his full height. “And he’s in no condition to be moved.”

You briskly sorted through your years of survivalism and relevant readings that supported your life of Hoth, gravely considering each and every option at your disposal to save this clone as his cries galloped after each other in their echoing race into the ether.

Because, despite the rapidly declining seconds you had left to solve a femoral artery bleed, you knew it was still more time than you had to save Getter.

It was still time in which you could do something.

No Bacta Spray, so perhaps a tourniquet.

“I need a thin rod and some bandages,” you spouted urgently. “Do we have anything like that?”

“There aren’t any medical supplies in this section at all,” Mill clarified nervously, rubbing her wrist as she briskly spoke. “The recovery rooms ran out of supplies last week. We were still in the process of transferring the new supply delivery throughout the facility when Nala Se ordered the evacuation.”

“I could give you my shirt,” the scruffy soldier suggested, pointing at his blood-soaked garment. “But I don’t know where we’ll find you any sticks.”

“Bandages alone won’t work,” you audibly exhaled, feeling the steady throb that would easily cut through a simple cloth.

“What about your lightsaber?” The cloaked Jedi inquired, pointing at the delicately hanging device strapped to your belt.

“Unfortunately, I need something thin,” you explained, eyes rapidly scanning your surroundings for anything even close to what you needed. “My lightsaber is too—“

You paused.

You hesitated because, with that comment, Mill may have certainly saved this man’s life.

But you knew from experience that this was going to really, really hurt.

“Men,” you ejected forcefully past the icy chill running down every nerve in your body, reaching your free palm to clasp the saber and disconnecting it with a clink from your side.

“Hold him down.”

A steady thrum of timorous buzzes flickered into the Force to the left, luring your outwardly mollified gaze toward the apprehensive Jedi beside you who watched on with ever-widening eyes.

“You’re right, Mill,” you quietly expressed, redirecting your attention to the task with a gaze that lowered just as deliberately as your body fell into a deeper crouch beside the bedridden man whose entire life relied on the thread plugged by a few fingers.

Though your words seemed to crack her restless daze in half as she whipped her head toward you, short ponytail flying after the sudden movement.

“You’re right, that a lightsaber can harm,” you softly continued, flicking on the weighty device with a shockingly bright drone that emanated between you and the young Jedi, reflecting in her brown eyes like a distant star.

“It can kill with ease,” you gradually moved the weapon through the air, allowing its buzz to vibrate through the atmosphere as the hall’s glaring light reflected its hilt. “Elicit misery out of those who least expect it.”

You returned your conflicted stare back to the disoriented man stuck beneath your digits, neck twisting in and out of consciousness too rapidly to permit any awareness of where his miracle cure was coming from.

It was probably best that way.

Because, either way, this needed to happen.

And it was that very notion that finally put into words what you’ve always felt about the Jedi’s most holy artifact. What you knew was true but struggled to explain to this Padawan all the same.

Until now.

“But you’re also right, Mill, that this same weapon will save him.”

You hovered the saber above the delirious clone’s wriggling form, held moderately still by the two soldiers on either side of him who seemed equally displeased with where this was going.

“It will be the opportunity to live another day. A healing energy to save the desperate. A bright light in the darkness.”

You paused, lowering the weapon to your side for just a moment, fingers still firmly held against the wound as you turned toward Mill as wholly as possible. Capturing her cautious gaze with your own meaningful stare.

“Because they aren’t good, and they aren’t bad, they just… are.”

You glared at its metallic shaft, crafted with great care and precision during your trip with Qui-Gon to Illum to collect your Kyber crystal. You observed its checkered black grip that snaked up the whole of the hilt, an intentional design you implemented to increase its resilience to Hoth’s cold nights. The triangular-shaped dent in the blade emitter from a particularly nasty run-in with a Wampa bite a few years back. The small puncture at the hand grip’s base, chinked by those pirates who stole it off you ages ago.

“They are their own Master,” your lips quirked gently. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

You peaked at Mill whose intent stare swirled with a galaxy of evolving thoughts, chest rising and falling through each breath solely motivated by comprehending your meaning.

“I alone can decide the purpose my lightsaber serves.”

You exhaled rigidly, circling toward the man clinging to life on the cot before you as you lifted the saber above his puncture once more with clenched teeth.

“And I choose to heal.”

With a heedfulness akin to threading a star cruiser through a pinprick-sized wormhole, you sunk the tip of the saber down toward the gash. Recoiling your blood-soaked fingers just as its gray luminance touched down on the spouting artery.

An overlapping murmur of groans from one chapped mouth swelled into a jarring shriek of intolerable magnitude as his vocal cords rawed at the sputtering roar. Saturating the Force with an incessant burden that threatened to collapse your sternum under its simultaneously consuming, draining anchor.

The scent of charred flesh smoked your nostrils as you observed pools of blood begin to blacken a charcoal brown alongside the bordering skin. And in that instant, you didn’t need to use your eyes to sense the young Jedi beside you shoot her hand to her forehead, clutching it fiercely as her eyes squeezed shut with a stinging gasp.

But soon, a subsiding energy overcame that temporary darkness that plagued the nearby Force Sensitives, like releasing a muscle strained into one, sun-beaten position for hours. It arrived with the shaky exhale that flickered past the maimed clone’s settling lips. Along with a sudden relief that oozed from his figure and infected his fellow comrades with similarly soothing sentiments.

“He has more time now,” you swallowed with sharp eyes pointed at the bordering clones as you rose to your feet. “Now get him out of here.”

The soldiers stood at the ready, acknowledging your request before promptly moving toward either side of the injured clone so to follow that very order.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Silvey,” Mill voiced while meeting your stance as the soldiers before you twisted the ends of the bedsheet in their fists to create a makeshift Hover Stretcher.

You eyed the Padawan whose conflicted gaze and curled brows twisted her jaw through a holobook of responses before settling on one that seemed to burst through all the others as a cough would stifle conversation.

“Now we’re running out of time.”

—

“It looks as though Skywalker has failed. He’s lost almost half his ships!”

The head Medical Clone’s vehemently unsettled tone aimed at Nala Se whipped past your ears in its journey as you and Mill led the last group of clones through the frantic energies swirling through the Command Center. It happened to house the getaway hatch to the last escape shuttle on board the medical station, beside your clone squad’s extra shuttle which had already been filled to capacity. And all that meant was that you were bound to receive an update on the battle unfolding beyond its walls whether you liked it or not.

Either way, your focus remained on leading the small batch of five to seven soldiers to the hatch’s entrance, one of which whose shattered kneecap obligated that an arm hung rigidly over your shoulders as you supported his weight through those final few limps.

And that was certainly not doing wonders for your own recently healed leg.

The Kaminoan’s advisor sighed drearily beside Commander Cody who watched on with an analytical gape over to your left as the advisor continued. “We should go, Madam.”

One more step and you reached the small, square hatch that stood from the floor no taller than your waist. Quickly scanning its side panel, you motioned for the other clone beside you to scoop his own grip under the injured clone’s armpit, enabling you to gently release him into his comrade’s company. Soon you accepted the lifting of that digging pressure as permission to drop down to the dingy panel clasped to the door so to input the release override.

“I will stay,” Nala Se tranquilly expressed as she turned to address the Lead Medical Clone.

“That won’t be in the clones’ best interests,” you cautioned swiftly, rising to your feet as the hatch whirred open behind you amidst a high-pitched beep and fogged-over emitter that struggled out dulled, red wisps. “You and your team should leave with this escape shuttle. The others will need someone to help coordinate the care for those more injured. More so than before considering the evacuation exacerbated their conditions.”

You observed with the corner of your eye as, one by one, the line of clones dropped to their knees so to shimmy through the tight-fitting hatch, aided by Mill who remained at each of their sides to support along those more mangled through the ingress. All throughout Nala Se’s carefully hidden hesitation fruitlessly defied your shrewd gaze.

“Silvey’s right, Madam,” Cody assuredly reminded. “With this last group, all the patients will have been evacuated. There’s no point in staying to find out what the other end of that giant Ion Cannon looks like when we already know it’ll kill life support and seal the escape hatches with the power surge.”

And despite the subtle rumblings of uncertainty that the Kaminoan frothed through the Force’s otherwise steady stream, the disappearance of the final soldier’s booted foot through the getaway hatch in combination with Cody’s loyal support of your stance seemed to sway her to respond.

“I will follow your guidance, Master Silvey.”

“Alright clones,” Cody called out while spinning around to the remaining staff furiously typing away at their stations, some standing like a string tugged at their tailbones while they moved through screens of defensive data as if to punch in one last key before being yanked away like a loose puppet. “Drop what you’re doing and load on that shuttle.”

The Commander calmly angled back toward Nala Se as the strings snapped and the puppets scurried free, his arm unfurling into a pointed finger toward the hatch entrance behind you.

“This way, Madam,” he instructed while the towering Kaminoan offered a gradually angled nod of acknowledgment.

You observed as the two of them cooly strolled forward with the Lead Medical Officer in his professional garb inching behind, all amidst the rushing forms and swiping legs of her remaining team shutting off workstation permissions before they made their final, fleeing departure.

Until the flinging movement of a small shape rising upwards caught the corner of your eye, all while an unexpected coolness invaded the Force from your left.

“I sense pain.”

You glanced strangely at Mill’s sudden revelation, taking in her crinkled eyelids while the nerves that twisted around her facial markings pulsed in concentration, palm cradling her vein-pulsed forehead.

“What is it, Mill?”

“There’s someone still here,” she coerced through crunching teeth. “Someone we forgot. They’re below us somewhere. Like a red blob.”

You caught the break of Nala Se’s once steady step from the corner of your eye, tugging at your gaze to serve her patent dithering with your full attention as if caught in the crossfires of a blaster bolt. Even the Commander seemed to take note of the acknowledging release of breath escaping your lips while he simultaneously focused on guiding the last few stragglers away from their stations with firm commands of “let’s go” and “leave it be.”

“Don’t worry,” you clearly conveyed to both Jedi and doctor before focusing your mind on the younger one’s concentrating gaze.

But, even with a turned head, your intrinsic intertwinement with the Force made it impossible to ignore the watchful eye of Commander Cody who reserved a slice of regard for you that more than tinted the everlasting stream.

“Mill, I’m counting on you to ensure this last group’s successful evacuation: Nala Se’s team and the patients in the escape shuttle. Work with Commander Cody. He will help yo—“

“But what about you?” She fiercely interrupted.

Cody finally cut in, “Silv—“

“—I’m going to get that soldier,” you promptly established as you twisted your neck toward the second-in-command who eyed you with oddly laden disquiet, firmed torso communicating the same inevitability to the young Jedi as well.

The words barely escaped your lips as you stormed toward the overhanging archway exit that would swallow you back into the space station’s bowels, heels fully contacting the metallic floor with each step to avoid any other objections of the matter with the all-to-familiar rhythmic clang.

But still, as the final swarm of clones swiveled around you like a parting sea to navigate toward the rear escape hatch, a light-footed figure seemed to cross that distance twice as fast with another heavier-set bunch clad in chaffing milky armor converging from the opposite angle.

“Silvey!” Mill called, swinging around to your side as you swiftly straddled your stride to avoid knocking over her fleeting form.

“I wanted to say… thank you,” she continued, the hint of a sigh crawling along her words as Cody’s striding figure levied its last few steps toward your right.

You quirked a brow at the young Padawan while stretching out a soft hand in signal of Cody to slow in wait. And you sensed him do as you willed, stuttering his gait to a halt like a ripple in the flow surrounding you as your head tilted with a slight curiosity amidst Cody’s respective silence. Still, your muscles stood taught as you prepared to sprint to the station’s lower levels at a moment's notice. Though even then it was a task to derive your focus away from Mill’s big brown eyes which churned with a form of tempered contemplation you’d not quite seen on the young girl before.

“—for showing me the bigger picture,” she continued in another breath, eyes levied at the ground as she worked through tumbling thoughts. “Anytime I felt pain I only saw it for what it was. Something uncomfortable. Something black and white. I didn’t see that some pain could be needed to heal. To do good.”

Mill’s hair flicked to the side as her chin swung back up toward yours with brows raised in relief.

“But saving a life makes it worth it.”

You remained with a steady gaze, relaxing your arms as shoulders released into an attentive expression that urged her to go on.

But with pursed lips that yelled move quickly.

“All this time,” she caught on with a push of breath. “When the Masters said that a Jedi’s life is sacrifice, I thought they meant what we were losing in this war. But it’s not that at all, is it?”

She got it.

You gently smiled.

“It’s what we go through, what we help others go through, to save them.”

Her brows crinkled into a conclusive regard that strained to loosen with the last three words she uttered.

"It’s our pain.”

You allowed for one more minute pause so her thoughts could settle before responding with your chin pointed teasingly downward, eliciting a warm tone.

“You’ll need a tool for that.”

Her lips settled upwards.

“The next Gathering is in a few months.”

And with an approving nod, you took off toward the archway once more. But not before swiveling into a backward pace with Cody following determinedly along so to relay one last piece of guidance that you nudged the young Jedi to carry with her through a gliding tone alone.

“May the Force be with you, Mill. Always.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cody began not a second later as Mill sprinted back toward the escape hatch while you whirled through the archway, the Commander hot on your heels.

“We’re running out of time, Cody,” you implied as you leaned into a jog that he so aptly followed with an armor-laden trot of his own. “I need you to follow orders.”

He spoke plainly, “I am following orders.”

“Well they aren’t mine,” you relayed through a sarcastic twinge that seemed to reach your not-so-healed leg under the weight of a running form.

“General Kenobi instructed me to keep an eye on you if this mission got dicey.”

Of course he did, you internally objected.

Yet you also couldn’t help the fleeting thought that Obi-Wan was jumping through hoops to ensure your safety while you avoided him at all costs.

And if Mill had the courage to take on the Gathering, to face that pain, then you must have, somewhere, in some deep crevice, some semblance of bravery to make allies of those who were sure to aid you in your sole mission.

Starting with that blue-eyed, bearded man.

But you couldn’t worry about that right now.

There was a life at stake.

You twisted on your heel toward the determined soldier, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he ebbed to a stop against its resistance, stark chestnut orbs wrestling with the notion of failing to follow his General’s orders before your very eyes.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t always right.

“You will only slow me down,” you relayed earnestly, gradually lowering your arm when it was clear the clone’s attention was fully on you. “Jedi have a way of moving quicker and bringing you along will only threaten that man’s chances. If you want to help me, go make sure that shuttle leaves with everyone on it. You’ll still be following orders.”

The soldier’s lips parted ever so slightly as he took in your words, only to clasp shut while the commander’s mind accepted that you were, unfortunately, correct in your calculations.

Even with a sorely palpitating leg.

Still, it was clear from tensely pursed lips and only a brief glance over his shoulder at the command center that the loyal man had one more thing on his mind.

“What about you?” He inquired, confusion etching across his brows.

Your cheeks lightened.

“You’d know better than I, Commander,” you teased. “I distinctly remember you mentioning the handful of scattered single escape pods still located on the lower levels from when VenteX’s constructors needed a plan B during a plasma leak.”

The Commander’s eyes rounded in remembrance as an air of approval dusted off his subsequent nod. “Good catch, Silvey.”

He took a few strides to his rear, angling to jog back toward the Command Center as the determined man left you with one final promise.

"I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

And you certainly planned to keep that appointment.

But that meant drawing on the Force’s all-encompassing existence to guide your way.

You closed your eyes, reaching out your fingers to feel its comforting endlessness energize your veins like a tingling drone as you leaned into a sprint. Its volume remained gentler than the weeks of past, almost reminding you of the calming expanse on Hoth. With a medical station nearly void of life, there wasn’t much to upset its delicate balance as you sensed the escape shuttle’s hatch spin closed with a twist far behind you to secure in the last of the escapees. It enabled your mind to focus intensely on any indications of a disturbance. Whether that be dodging a wall to turn a corner or thoughtlessly punching in floor levels inside turbo lift after turbo lift as you attempted to sense this being lost in an endless array of intertwined hallways and rooms.

Until, while traversing alongside towering walls of precariously placed, foggy cargo containers held within one of the station’s high-ceiling storage lots, you suddenly felt it.

Your eyes slammed open.

A dull jolt in the everlasting stream, pulling at its ripples like a confused animal, and, from what you gleamed, located somewhere alongside the far wall that was sectioned into outstretched viewports inviting in the expanse’s brightest stars. Though those specks of white were vastly overshadowed by the eloquently zipping fighters whose choreographed dips and dashes pirouetted amongst a swarm of red blaster bolts, painting the Galaxy’s complexion with streaming tears of blood. Yet the source of her sobs, no matter how large her function, remained out of sight.

Your feet peddled through the sweeping repository with greater haste, bringing you mere yards from the transparisteel separating beings from the blackness beyond when you heard to your left a tenuous groan leak from its creator.

Your head swiveled toward the sound as a weakening malaise perfumed your senses.

Trapped underneath a lofty cargo container inscribed with gray geometric lines of Basic was the whole right arm of an older clone that maintained a graying beard and sported the brown garb of a supplier logistics technician. The side of his ribs pressed against the floor with intense pressure as he wrestled to shimmy the limb free from its metallic captor, teeth grinding into nubs from the striking pain of likely broken bones shattering still. An electrocuting sensation traveling down legs that dragged at the floor in an attempt to break himself free. Enough so that you caught wind of the oddly twisted placement of an ankle which flopped limply from the thrashes.

Without a second thought, you rushed toward the clone, arm outstretched as you landed on your knees to hold his chilly one still.

“Hold on!” You expelled while your mind tapped into the surrounding stream, allowing you to guide its energies into yourself as you focused your crumpled brows on nudging the container through the outstretched fingers of your free hand.

"You should get out of here, Sir,” the clone expressed through a weak huff.

The large box sharply groaned with a slight shake as you gasped through tense lips at its noticeable heft, fingers curling tighter until its vibrations evolved into the crackling pop of the container losing traction with the ground. Not by much, just a few inches at most, but enough for you to shimmy his arm out from underneath the lifeless beast’s grasp as utterances of excruciating cries and relief-drenched pants shot out of the man’s mouth and ricocheted across the echoing chamber.

The graying clone rolled on his back, cradling the damaged arm with squeezed eyes as he allowed the waves of salient affliction to wash over him while you stumbled back to catch your breath.

“Yes, I should,” you aired breathily as you bent down to help the injured man with a palm under each armpit, hoisting him up high enough to rest a good arm around your shoulder amidst protesting grunts so to limp him a few feet forward. “Now shut up and move, soldier.”

“Yes, Sir,” the weary clone moaned with a subtle shadow of ease as he hobbled through one lumbering step after another, digging into your shoulder with each footfall while you held the majority of his weight firm amidst a damaged ankle likely broken when the cargo container fell.

And for a brief instant, despite the significant setback spawned by the discovery of a severely inured clone, and the increasing pressure on your vibrating leg, you thought that the two of you had a pretty good chance of making it out of here, given that one of the escape pods you’d gleaned from the medical station’s blueprints was on this very level, in one of the inner hallways just a few turns away.

That was, until the staticky pop of your wrist comm buzzed to life with the sound of a familiar yet resistantly tense voice crackling through its speaker.

“Silv— Sil—vey. Come —in. Silvey—, are — there?”

You stretched your dominant hand toward your opposite shoulder, answering the call through a tap to the answering button without losing your grip on the saddling soldier.

“Anakin, I hear you.” You acknowledged forcefully with another step forward toward the storage repository’s sweeping, double-door exit that you carefully eyed a dozen meters away. “The weapon is causing some interference. We’re about to depart. What is it?”

“You nee— out of there! Not s— can’t— hol— —off”

A tingling eeriness ignited in the Force to your rear.

You spun back around toward the storage area’s rear wall of geometric viewports only to glimpse a dash of electrifying purple sparks rotate into the far left segment’s view amidst the endless streaks of red cuts into the Galaxy’s inky fold. A massive, circular charge that revved as the face of the expansive, shark-like ship Malevolence threatened with a roaring breath to blow away any chance you or this clone had for survival.

You remembered what Cody said. One strike from that destructive weapon would shut off the escape hatch releases you’d been relying on for your escape. And with all other systems offline, it would effectively annihilate any life left on board.

This was going to be a problem.

Until a swarm of marching fighters swung into view, veering about one big loop through and out the cannon’s neck as one after another launched an explosive, fiery torpedo that streamed into its wide gullet, supplying a smoky black beard that puffed outwards from the consecutive detonations as the beast’s electrifying, violet mouth roused wider at the provocation.

And just when you thought that the deadly spit of this wild creature would consume your vision, a wide array of clustering, rumbling copper blasts pimpled the shark’s decelerating form, caking the surrounding space with blotches of a wider, billowing smog. An apt fireworks show to welcome the arrival of several Republic warships that swung in from hyperspace within mere seconds like the flying bolts of before that now laid dormant.

“Anakin, do you copy?"

The firmly smooth yet urgent undertones of Obi-Wan’s voice broke through the speaker with an abrupt clarity that snapped your thoughts back into the present, empowering you to recognize that Anakin’s team foiled the imminent threat. You released tensed shoulders that had tightened at the height of this ordeal, enough so to liberate the older clone’s arm from your grasp. You leaned your chest toward the floor as his weight reclined against your back, sliding his arm across your wingspan in order to better grasp each armpit all to gradually lower his form down to rest against a few cargo containers stacked to your left.

“I’m here,” Anakin acknowledged, his transmission having audibly improved as you rose back to your full height to face the viewports once more, feeling the deep sting of a leg that appeared to have seen too much action a moment too early. “And Silvey is too. From the station.”

A flicker of white noise. Hushes of circuits and wires that marked General Kenobi’s line as open. Yet, in those few seconds, no words traveled across its waves from the lead warship drifting comfortably at a distance that characterized its structure as a miniature figurine.

Still, it was enough of a lull to catch your notice with the elicitation of a slumping sensation in your gut as your stretching senses reached through trained eyes to get just a glimpse of the damage you’d begun to realize you’d done.

Though your sight could never reach that far.

“Well,” he started with a bump. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright. Thanks to the success of Anakin’s mission. Congratulations.”

“Partially, but Grievous is still alive,” Anakin corrected just as swiftly as Obi-Wan spoke, though rumination deepened his tone. “The battle was pretty rough on my men. We’re heading for the medical station.”

Grievous…

It was clear he posed a threat. Not just to the Republic’s success in this war, but to Anakin too if these violent exchanges were to continue. The Chosen One and his entire team were nearly killed at his order.

And, to you, that was unacceptable.

You understood the Masters’ weariness which governed the decision to separate you and Anakin on the battlefield. You really did. Lest your proximity allow the enemy to discover your connection, and by association, your eternal mission. But you’d do no good in fulfilling those responsibilities when stationed so far from Skywalker’s battlefield skirmishes.

It was time to take matters into your own hands, it seemed. Because while it had been a little while since you last spoke with Master Windu, you were positive that neither he nor Master Yoda himself would approve of you joining Anakin on his next mission.

No matter, you knew you had to anyway.

It was time to finally fulfill your responsibilities as The Chosen One’s Guardian.

And, maybe then, you could address the mistakes you were beginning to realize you’d made in your friendship with Obi-Wan.

Maybe then, you could face your fears in stride like Mill Alibeth, in hopes of a better future.

“I’ll remain here to help with the return efforts and the injured,” you justified succinctly, unintentionally dipping into the professional drone you’d so expertly habitualized in conversations with the bearded Jedi these past few weeks.

It would also be worth having your leg looked at, you internalized.

But that thought flitted away as another shimmer of peppery nothingness filled the airways with empty feedback.

Yet this time, out of the automative choir that filled your eardrums, you felt a tenuous lug in the Force’s most inner threads, drawing a sliver of confusion to crinkle across your brows as you perceived this foreign sensation not only emanate from within you, but from a distance too far to pinpoint.

“Stay if you must,” he uttered. "Not all paths need to run side-by-side, after all.”

The sarcastic lilt of his mechanically transmitted voice tugged at the cogs of your mind, but not staunchly enough to process the Jedi’s meaning before his cogent air collided with your eardrums once more.

“Perhaps I’ve asked too much of you.”

You felt your cheeks chill an icy warmth as your body tried to reckon with the blood escaping to flood your features, synapses snapping with an equal potency of guilt and unease that threatened to spin the temperature of your ligaments into endless dials.

“But don’t worry,” he quickly finished while redirecting a more sanguine vocalization toward his former Padawan with the succinctness of a head turn. "we’ll call you when we need you.”

As you felt Anakin’s awkward hesitation from a filler word loosely pass across his comm line and directly into your very bones, you came to the solemn acceptance that the damage you’d chipped and chipped into existence this past week, was done.

And just as briskly, your motivation to mend your mistakes dissipated into the ether along with Anakin’s final sign-off.

“We’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

@lemonherb

@imherefordeanandbones

@aroundnothingsoundsright

8 notes · View notes

thejediandthemandalorian · 1 year ago

Note

might i request cowboy codywan by any chance

🐎 they would be the best cowboys honestly

A wonderful request. Here is a scene for cowboy codywan!! I will admit I started writing this one then got super obsessed with my idea and got kinda carried away. But I also had so much fun writing this! Thank you for the ask 💜💜

“You can’t just waltz your way onto any property you please.” Cody folded his arms over his chest and frowned down at Obi-Wan.

He was busy tying up his horse, which he’d only learned to properly ride within the past month or so, to a post of the fence. Cody couldn’t help a small smirk as he watched him fumble his way through a quick-release knot, taking him several tries until he finally gave it a tug and was satisfied.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem when I accidentally ended up on the Fett Ranch. Seems to have worked in favor of the both of us.” Obi-Wan looked up at him with a bright smile and squinting eyes to try and see Cody through the sun.

It was a hot one today, and even Cody had to admit this sounded fun, but it would be wrong. Old Man Jabba didn’t like anyone on his property, especially near his pond. Last time someone snuck on his property to swim Cody had heard they’d been chased off the property with a sawed off shotgun. Then there was the time he’d heard Old Man Jabba had chased someone off with his plow, trying to run them over. And also the time he’d made some trespassers clean up old cattle manure from his rundown barn that wasn’t in use anymore.

“The Hutts aren’t as generous to trespassers as my father and brothers.” Cody could feel the sweat trailing down his back.

Obi-Wan really needed to find a shadier spot to keep Boga; she was going to overheat out here and then she wouldn’t be very useful in his getting back to the ranch.

The sun beating down on them was harsh, even with the protective clothing. Even his hat didn’t seem to be doing much, his scalp drenched with sweat underneath the rim. It was a surprise that Obi-Wan’s skin wasn’t brighter than a tomato with how pale he was. The only real protection he had from the sun was Cody’s old hat.

Going for a dip did sound quite refreshing. Not to mention the opportunity to finally see Obi-Wan without that prim little button up, vest, tie, and fancy coat he always wore was quite an enticing prospect. He also looked pretty good in Cody’s hat and it would be a shame to take it off. The hat was white in color with a black weaved leather band around it, held together by a little clasp that had three orange sun rays on it.

Seeing Obi-Wan in it made him really notice the sun heating his own neck around the collar. He couldn’t even imagine having the opportunity to take it off of him in order to--

That wasn’t a very polite thought and Obi-Wan had been nothing but respectful to him. He was simply going to take that inappropriate thought and tie it to a post and leave it out to shrivel up in the sun.

No more thinking like that.

He looked down at Obi-Wan who had removed his jacket and was in the process of loosening his tie.

“What are you doing?” Cody frowned, his view shifting a bit as his horse, Tooka, adjusted her footing.

“I’m preparing myself to go for a swim. Don’t mind me, you can be a buzzkill and go back to your chores if you’re so worried about it.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him.

Cody wanted nothing more than to grab that beard and kiss that snarky little attitude right out of his mouth.

They could skip swimming altogether and just find a nice little place under a tree in the meadow and--

“Are you coming or are you just going to keep gawking at me?” Obi-Wan removed his tie now and began unbuttoning his vest.

“Who taught you to talk to strangers like that, and break into other peoples’ property?” Cody looked away now, feeling he was invading something private now.

A melodic sound came from Obi-Wan and Cody could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Obi-Wan had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, more relaxing than the singing of the crickets and frogs whenever evening fell.

“What can I say, Cody? You have this weird effect on me.” The other man sent him a wink.

Cody really wanted to go swimming with him, badly enough that he couldn’t bring himself to care if this was something that would get his hide tanned. The well-learned city-boy before him wanted to get the real experience of living in the country, so he would provide.

“Come on.” He heaved a sigh and tightened his grip on the reins.

“I didn’t mean it, you don’t actually have to leave.” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and it made Cody look over.

“No, city-boy. I’m not leaving. You can’t just tie your horse up in the sun like that.” Lightly kicking his heels into Tooka’s sides, he pointed with his head. “There’s some trees a short ride that way. Then we can get in the pond.”

Obi-Wan’s whole face lit up with a smile and he quickly clambered back onto his horse, forgetting he still had to untie it. His jacket and tie were shoved haphazardly in the saddle bags and his vest remained half unbuttoned. The man who claimed to have a schooling degree in English and was here on a journaling assignment suddenly seemed a whole lot less put together than he originally appeared.

Cody decided at that moment that he not only wanted to go swimming in that pond with Obi-Wan and maybe get chased off the property by Old Man Jabba, but he also really wanted to get to know him more before he had to leave and probably never return. What he really wanted was to start officially courting him, but knew Jango would probably never approve. So for the time being he was simply going to have to be okay with tying the horses up in the shade and going for a swim.

#star wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #cowboy au #cowboy cody #learning to be a cowboy obi wan #ask game #writing prompt #this really was so fun it was hard for me to stop

46 notes · View notes

natalynsie · 1 year ago

Text

Noah is Not Pathetic (Noco Oneshot)

[Before reading, please keep in mind I post all of my Noco oneshots on ao3 as a series. I recommend reading the first part of the series, Boyfriend, first, but it isn't required. Boyfriend provides more context for what will happen in this and if you do plan on reading Boyfriend it includes spoilers. You obviously don't have to and it will be understandable. Every part of this series can be read as a one-shot.]

“Dude, Adam, you suck at this,” Caleb laughed.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not a nerd, and I don’t play video games,” Adam sputtered. “I actually have a life outside of my basement.”

“I doubt that,” Noah responded.

Family reunions were always chaotic. Even though Caleb and Adam were Noah’s favorite cousins, they definitely brought a good bit of chaos themselves. Cody being locked out of his house dragged Noah more into the chaos. Noah had been interrogated three times about whether or not he and Cody were dating.

And yeah. Maybe there were some gay occurrences earlier that afternoon. Maybe he kissed Cody just to see what it was like. Maybe Adam and Caleb walked in. Maybe he had to convince them that he and Cody weren’t dating and it totally wasn’t weird and to please not tell anyone else.

And maybe Noah had a not-so-small crush on Cody.

But it was fine.

And they weren’t dating.

And romance was still stupid.

Even though his thoughts were all over the place, Noah was definitely winning most of the rounds. Bayonetta for the win.

He should’ve expected Cody to be a loyal Kirby player. Cody was taking a good amount of losses, but he was always close to winning. Unfortunately, Caleb and Noah were just better.

And Noah had absolutely no idea what Adam was doing. He assumed he was just button mashing and praying, but he always died way before the end of the games.

“Have you ever even played Smash before?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, like twice!” Adam defended. “You guys are just serious nerds.”

“Don’t group me in with Noah and Cody,” Caleb said. “They’re like a thousand times more nerdy than me. I just play video games with my friends once in a while.”

“Yeah, you guys live in your basements. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

Cody giggled. “Look man, I don’t play Smash much, but you’re so horrible it’s hard to believe.”

“Adam, you haven’t won a single game,” Caleb stated. “I’ve been keeping track. I won 17, Noah won 12, Cody won 7, and you won 0. It’s getting kinda pathetic.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Like I care. Cody hasn’t won a game since like, eight games ago.”

“I’m getting tired,” Cody complained. “I still wanna play but I’m tired.”

“It’s only 9:15,” Caleb stated.

“I didn’t sleep good the past few nights, leave me alone.”

Just after he said that, Noah felt a weight drop on his side.

Cody was resting against him.

Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

He started to fumble with the controller.

Keep it together, he scolded himself. It’s not even a big deal.

“Hah!” Caleb exclaimed. He had killed Noah while he was off guard.

Adam continued to smash buttons. Noah guessed he didn’t even realize he was dead.

“I was distracted!” Noah responded.

“By what?” Caleb snorted.

“...I dunno.”

So, Noah lost a game. Nothing new.

So he lost seven games. He was entitled to his bad moments.

He didn’t win any other game. Maybe he was a little sidetracked.

“Dude, what happened?” Caleb asked. He had become the sole winner, besides a few of Cody’s wins.

“I’m getting tired too,” Noah lied. He would not let anyone know the reason he was failing left and right was because Cody was just leaning against him. That’s pathetic. Romance is pathetic. Noah was not pathetic.

“You look fine to me,” Adam said, glancing at Noah. He had died- again, so he didn’t need to look at the screen. Noah darted his eyes at Adam, and then back at the screen. He had seen a hint of a smile on Adam's face- that stupid little shit had the wrong idea again.

Noah wanted to jump off a cliff.

Because Adam actually had the right idea.

Yeah, Cody wasn’t his boyfriend, that was wrong. But Adam knew that Noah at least liked Cody. At this point, who didn’t know? Izzy, Gwen, and Owen knew before Noah did, Eva knew, his sister Ava knew, pretty much half of Noah’s suspected it by now, and there were probably more that Noah just hadn’t picked up on yet.

Noah sighed as Caleb won yet again. “I think I’m done for the night.” He placed his controller down, and stood up, beginning to walk away from the TV. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“‘Kay,” Cody responded.

Noah entered the bathroom and washed his hands. He stared in the mirror for a second before closing his eyes.

This is pathetic, Noah thought. He really spent his entire life mocking romance, just to set himself up for failure. Little eight-year-old Noah really believed this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He really thought he would be immune to it. It was kind of embarrassing.

When the rest of his family found out, he would never hear the end of it.

Noah washed his hands again and exited the bathroom.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” Cody said, standing up. “It’s almost ten, my parents should be home by now.”

“In the dark?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. How else am I gonna get home?”

“Aren’t your parents gonna come pick you up?” Adam questioned.

“They don’t even know I’m not home. They never check their phones after work- I learned that the hard way. I’ll be fine, it really isn’t that far of a walk.”

“No way,” Noah said. “We’ll drive you home.”

“You sure?” Cody asked.

“Dude, it is ten o’clock at night!” Adam exclaimed. “You are not walking home in the dark. Absolutely not.”

“I don’t wanna be a problem.”

“It is not a problem. You getting kidnapped is a problem.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “My parents won’t mind. Let’s go.”

The group ran up the stairs and into the kitchen where the adults were talking, a good few of them drinking.

“Mom, Cody needs a ride home,” Noah informed.

“Oh, okay. Where are his parents?” Noah’s mother, Barbara, asked.

“They don’t check their phones,” Cody responded. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize hun,” Barbara assured. “Come on kids. Adam, Caleb, do you want to come?”

“Yeah!” Adam exclaimed.

“Why not?” Caleb replied.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The kids followed Barbara to her car. Noah sat in the front seat and everyone else got in the backseat. There was bickering about who would take the middle seat before Barbara told Adam to get in the middle because ‘Caleb’s too big and Cody is our guest’. Reluctantly, Adam did what he was told.

“Where do you live, hun?” Barbara asked.

Cody recited his address and the group headed out.

The car ride was pretty mellow, just consisting of a few last jokes. Noah found himself smiling almost the entire car ride.

When Cody was dropped off, Noah sighed, letting his smile fall. As Adam moved seats, Barbara smiled.

“I never see you smile that much,” Barbara stated. “What was that all about?”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Noah complained. “Can I just have a friend in peace?”

“Noah we all know something’s up,” Adam said, thankfully not bringing up the ‘incident’.

“You aren’t slick,” Caleb added.

“Ughhh,” Noah groaned as they began to drive off. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Adam smiled.

“So my little baby has finally given in to the force of love.” Barbara wiped away a fake tear. “I knew the day would come.”

“Woah, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Noah said. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Baby, I know you like the back of my hand. And yes, you are obvious.”

“Well, that makes eight people that I know know.”

“Who else knows?” Adam asked.

“Izzy, Owen, Gwen, Eva, and Ava.”

“You told Ava before us? I’m offended.”

“She was persistent. Nobody figuring it out was intentional. Except sort-of Owen but he already knew? Whatever.”

Caleb and Adam smiled at each other. “Well, hopefully by the next get-together he’s there as your boyfriend,” Adam grinned.

“Shut your mouths!”

#total drama #noahxcody #noah x cody #codyxnoah #cody x noah #noco #td noah #td cody #alternate universe #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #high school #high school au #natie fics #natie wawanakwa high school fics

33 notes · View notes

t3a-tan · 2 months ago

Text

Firing Squad

Set before Cody and Jael met whilst Jael was still a soldier for Syris. Fair warning, this is heavy but also has a lot of lore importance.

---

Elyon got caught. In one of the routine tent checks, they found evidence of him rebelling; a single black feather.

Jael only found out that his friend and fellow soldier had been caught when he was yanked off of his metal cot and taken away with the rest of his squad. Already, this feeling of unease had come over him.. He knew something wasn't right.

"Jael! Jael, tell them it's not mine!" Elyon cried out, catching sight of him as he struggled against the handcuffs. Jael almost didn't recognize him with that bag over his head. "Please! I would never rebel! I-I wouldn't dare to go against her highness, our gracious and merciful Queen Mary!"

Gods was it weird hearing that long title in such a desperate plea…

Jael tensed up, looking towards the captain, who was watching intently. Suspiciously..

"I…"

If he helped his friend, what would happen to him?

He was only 18. Jael didn't know how to respond. He and Elyon had both agreed that something was wrong with this country and the Queen herself, but they didn't know what would happen if they got caught.

No. They did… they just didn't want to believe it was possible.

"Are you working with Elyon, Jael?" The captain glared hard. "You two are close, aren't you? Didn't you notice he was being radicalized?"

Jael jolted, before standing up straight and proper, looking straight ahead rather than daring to look into the captain's eyes.

"N-no, sir. I didn't notice anything, sir. If I had, I would have reported him immediately." Jael paused, almost surprised by his instinctual response. "S-sir…" He finished.

The captain nodded, seemingly pleased by that answer.

Elyon however, was devastated.

"W-what!? Jael, but— no I can't… please..!" He cried. Jael's heart beat fast, and he tried hard to control his breathing in case anyone noticed how on edge he was. At this point, Elyon was the least of his concerns.

He was still, as Elyon was dragged into that dreadful room.

His hair stood on end as he caught sight of his superior, ushering him into the room just beside it. Where the firing squad would get ready.

"You're a good angel, Jael." The captain spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, a bit too tightly for Jael's liking. "Raphael is considering giving you a promotion soon.. You'll be joining the Seraphim in no time." He continued, leading Jael through the rows of guns.

"Elyon is your friend, I understand…" He trailed off, glancing down at Jael and looking for a reaction.

"If he has been found rebelling, he is only a traitor in my eyes, sir." Jael didn't know what compelled him to say that, but it seemed to work. Some part of him was disgusted. Elyon didn't deserve the blame for this. It was Jael's idea in the first place. He planted the seed of doubt into Elyon's head…

The captain smiled, smacking him on the back in what may have been an encouraging manner in another context, but now it just felt intimidating.

"Good, good… pick up that gun, Jael."

Jael's blood ran cold as his superior pointed out the rifle. The same kind that was used by the firing squads…

Hands shaking, he reached for the gun.

"Sir..?"

He tried not to seem nervous, but it was difficult when his body wouldn't stop shaking.

Saying nothing, the captain led him out into the room. Alone. Elyon stood up against a wall, chained by the hands so he could only move a couple of feet in any direction. Jael swallowed.

"When they say fire…" Jael already knew what was coming, but he didn't want to believe it.

"Shoot."

Jael shut his eyes for a moment, but nodded. He tried his best to shut out his friend's begging from the other side of the room. There was already an audience, and he knew this whole thing was being recorded. All angels, no matter the age or circumstance, were required by law to watch a public execution, to set an example.

Jael didn't think he would ever be part of this.

And sure, on the battlefield he had killed before. He had pulled the trigger on whoever he was told to, but now..?

This was Elyon.

This was his friend.

The captain stood back, and so Jael lifted the gun, trying to steady himself. If he missed, if he refused to shoot, if he acted nervous...was he next?

"Elyon of Squad 194. You have been found guilty of rebelling against her highness, our gracious and merciful Queen Mary. A black feather was found in your tent, along with a detailed plan of her assassination."

That last part just wasn't true at all...but Jael wouldn't say that out loud. Of course they would make some things up to suit their narrative...the more guilty Elyon looked, the less people would care. The worse Jael would look if he failed to shoot.

"I-I didn't! I would never rebel, sir! Please..!"

"Aim!"

Jael aimed and found that he was the only gunman in the room. It was a test and he knew it; one that he couldn’t afford to fail as much as his trigger finger trembled with hesitation.

"Ready!"

Jael cocked the gun, his finger finally resting over the trigger. Elyon was moving around, but Jael could follow his movements. He had hit moving targets before…

"Fire!"

Jael hesitated, his finger holding over the trigger but never pulling it, frozen stiff.

If I do this, I'm truly a monster. I can never go back…

"Fire, boy!"

Jael pulled the trigger immediately at the sound of the captain's voice on instinct, watching it hit his friend right on target. Elyon went quiet, though he was still standing, seeming dazed, though he couldn’t tell for sure with that bag over his head.

"Aim!"

Jael released a breath, his body starting to relax. Finally, his tremors had stopped, mind going numb.

"Fire!"

He shot again.

"Fire!"

And again.

"Fire!"

And again.

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #g/t writer #angst #writing #oc comic #oc story #my ocs #oc

5 notes · View notes

ruminate88 · 2 months ago

Text

When You’ve Been Criticized in Your Past Relationships:

Healing Journal 09/17/24 at 4am

I was doing a workout video because I’m trying to keep my digestive active. Obviously I don’t need to lose anymore weight. 🙄 but it’s been so difficult to eat. Anyway, at one point, I got off beat with the background music in the workout video and suddenly felt this frustration inside and REALIZED, how in that moment I felt “oh, I’m not perfect” and I KNOW that comes from when I was working before to impress my exes, Andrew and Cody. Nothing I did was enough for them. Andrew would praise my nudes that I would send him and give me temporary validation but then turn around and ignore me or bread crumb me, so that would take the validation back away from me and I would feel the need to work even harder. 😓

I remember posting all kinds of dramatic selfies on Instagram with so much black eye makeup on and try to write an emotional caption, hoping Andrew would see it and wanna text me… I would get lost in music trying not to just sit and cry while I anxiously wait for Andrew to text but it was confusing and depressing how Andrew would flat out just go no contact. He wouldn’t update any social media where I could see it (possibly he hid post from me) and I would stalk his Facebook because he kept his Facebook calendar full! I would wonder if he was truly going to all these school activities or was he just making it look like he’s so busy?

Today I had a moment where I recognized a wound and I knew where it came from. The way my ex guy friend, Jake, criticized my every move. Jake was always there when I would break up with someone and he would be my “friend” but tell me everything I’m doing wrong in life. When you’ve been critiqued so much, how are you supposed think anything you do is right? 😳

Not to mention Cody … He put on that “I’m so cool act” and made me feel I was always in competition with him. Trying to know what he knows and keep up with him. Exhausting!!! The sad part is, I thought I was loved by Cody and Andrew at one point!!! How did I not see they were critical of me?? How did I EVER think they loved me back???? Well, moving forward, I’m not perfect and I no longer have to impress ANYBODY! Validation and that kind of toxic, obsessive, attention is NOT real love ❤️‍🩹 Do the best you can!

2 notes · View notes

starryevermore · 2 years ago

Text

saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts ✧ tech

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

summary: tech meets an oddly familiar face in the afterlife.

word count: 1,456

warnings?: spoilers for “plan 99”, angst, not proofread

Death was something that Tech had come to terms with long ago. In a way, he supposed all clones long since came to terms with death. They were bred to be soldiers. They were designed to lay down their lives on the battlefield. Tech had known that for as long as he was aware of his purpose.

He always imagined he would die during a fight. What other way would he go? When you’re born to be soldier, you’re born to die on the battlefield. But, if he was being honest, he always expected that he would die with his brothers. That he would go with the same people he entered this galaxy with.

Of course, all of that was not to say he wasn’t a little sad about dying. For a brief moment, there had been a flicker of hope that he could be something more. Ever since Omega had joined them, they had been fighting to give her a good life. A safe life. After leaving Cid, and after Phee taking them to Pabu, Tech thought that they might have achieved that purpose.

Tech had thought that they would settle down there. That they would put the life of fighting behind them. He imagined he might become a teacher. He quite enjoyed teaching Omega, seeing her blossom and grow and soak up all the wisdom and knowledge he could offer her. Perhaps he could do that on Pabu. And, maybe if he was lucky, whatever relationship he was building with Phee would evolve into something more. He never gave much thought to romance before, but he liked the idea of being with her. It made his chest feel warm. He liked that feeling.

Though Tech had come to terms with dying, he thought there would be more days to live. That he would get to experience more than being a soldier. That he would get to see a future that was as bright as the sun that shined down on Pabu.

But, as Tech plummeted to the ground, he knew that he would never get to experience that brighter future. And that was okay. If his death was necessary for his family to live, he would be okay with that. That was the whole point of Plan 99, wasn’t it?

He shut his eyes and braced for impact. There was no point in musing on those thoughts when he would never get to see them come to fruition. His body hit the cold, hard ground with a crack!

All went dark.

Until—

Tech blinked, looking around. He…He didn’t understand. It almost looked like he was on Pabu. But that couldn’t be. He…Well, he was dead. His body was long gone, lost to the forest below. There was certainly no way he could have survived. That was the stuff of fiction—imagining a way for a valiant hero to beat death against all odds. (Was he a valiant hero? Phee might paint him that way, he mused—she always loved teasing him. He would miss that.)

“It’s supposed to look like the place you were at peace in,” a voice said.

The voice was familiar, in the way that the voices of clones, specifically the regs, all sounded familiar. But it was different, too. If Tech shut his eyes and listened hard enough, it would have almost sounded like Echo.

“What do you see?” the voice asked again.

“Pabu,” Tech said. “It was a small island, home to refugees. It was…Well, I suppose for a short time, it was my home. The closest thing that I could call a home.”

Tech looked over, finally looking at the person the voice belonged to. He had once seen a holopic of Echo, during his ARC Trooper days, with Rex and Cody and another blue-adorned ARC Trooper. Tech didn’t know his name, the other ARC Trooper, he means. Echo never spoke about it. Tech never pried. The man beside him, though, bore a striking resemblance to Echo, though, more so than one would expect from a clone.

“What do you see?” Tech asked.

“Kamino,” the man said. He looked at Tech, then gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Nothing nice like a tropical island, or whatever you get to see. But, it was the last place where my batch and I were happy. We called ourselves the Domino Squad.”

“What happened to your squad?”

“We had been stationed on the Rishi Moon Outpost. It had been mostly uneventful out there. Then the Separatists attacked. I lost most of squad then. It was just me and Echo for a long time.”

Tech nodded. So, this must have been the other ARC Trooper in Echo’s holopic. That was the logical conclusion. It would certainly explain the similarities between the two clones.

“What about you?” the man asked. “What was your squad like?”

“We were Clone Force 99, but we called ourselves the Bad Batch.” Tech’s heart ached at the thought of his squad. He could only hope that they survived. That was all he wanted. Though, seeing as none of them were with him now, he supposed that his sacrifice had been successful. “We were a group of enhanced clones.”

“99,” the man repeated. “He was a good clone. He’s around here somewhere, if you ever want to talk to him.”

“I would like that. He had been a great hero to my brothers and I. We had always admired his sacrifice. Our squad was named after him, of course. But so too was one of our plans. If the moment ever came where one of us needed to lay down our life to save the others, we would it. During the war, it had never come up.” Tech looked out at the rolling waves of the imaginary Pabu. He didn’t regret his actions, not in the slightest. But he worried how the others were handling it. He had seen Omega as he fell, heard her shouts and pleas for the others to do something. Oh, he hoped his brothers were comforting her. “We never had to use it, until now.”

The man nodded, turning his gaze out to the sea. Tech wondered what he saw instead. He had said Kamino, but Kamino was a large place. Was he imagining the barracks? The mess hall? “At least you know that your squad is still out there. When I got here, I spent ages looking for Echo. I couldn’t believe that he was still alive. That he was alive and we did nothing to try to save them.”

“I’ve heard what happened at the Citadel,” Tech said. He wasn’t good at comfort, but when he realized that Omega needed comfort, especially after Echo left the squad to aid Rex, he tried to get better. He read many books and articles to figure out the right thing to do. So, he reached out, placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You never could have known. The odds of anyone surviving an explosion of that caliber is demonstrably low.”

The man shrugged. It seemed like Tech’s comfort wasn’t very comforting. But then the man smiled a bit. “I’m glad he had you guys, though. I’m Fives, by the way.”

“Tech.”

Fives stood up, dusting himself off. Then he held out a hand towards Tech. Tech stared for a moment. Then, he took Fives’s hand and let the man, his brother, help him to his feet. Once Tech was standing, Fives clapped him on the shoulder.

“C’mon,” Fives said. “Our vode want to meet you.”

Tech’s brows pinched together. That was odd. It was unfathomable, really. Tech never really had any good experiences with the regs, barring a few exceptional cases like Cody and Rex. Most of his interactions with regs usually ended in a fight—typically started by one of his brothers, but he wasn’t the sort of person to lay down and take the disrespect regs often showed him and his brothers. Why would any reg want to meet him now?

“I don’t understand,” Tech said. “Why would anyone want to meet me?”

“Any friend of Echo’s is a friend of ours.” Fives threw an arm around Tech’s shoulders. “Now, c’mon. We got a lotta embarrassing stories to tell you about Echo. Feel free to share a story or two of your own, yeah?”

A small smile tugged at Tech’s lips. He reached up and tapped his goggles saying, “I have more than a few recordings of Echo falling that I’d be happy to share.”

“That’s the spirit!” Fives laughed. “You’ll fit in here just fine.”

Perhaps. But…Well, what was the point in there being an afterlife if he didn’t get to share it with his family?

#tech imagine #tech fanfiction #tech fanfic #tech fan fiction #tech fan fic #tech fic #tech bad batch #tech bad batch imagine #tech bad batch fanfiction #tech bad batch fanfic #tech bad batch fan fiction #tech bad batch fan fic #tech bad batch fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

31 notes · View notes

galpalaven · 2 years ago

Text

a seed planted...

In that little bit of time before everything came crashing down, they did make a memory or two. Or, alcohol and high school bullies can make for a nice night, once in a blue moon. Noah Marshall/F!Main Character, 5200+ words Read on AO3!

He’s never been one for parties.

This is actually the first party he’s ever been to, he thinks, watching everyone in the living room through the window. He’s been sitting outside at one of the tables by the pool for a while now, nursing a cup of spiked punch—well, maybe more than one. He doesn’t belong here and, despite this being his ‘friends’ party idea, he’s on edge.

They shouldn’t even be here. Not when Redfield could strike at any moment. He—

“Noah! There you are.”

Jaxson.

Jax is grinning when he glances up at her, faded pink hair pulled up in a messy updo. The short skirt of her black dress barely hits her mid-thigh, and she shivers a little as a breeze picks up.

“What are you doing over here by yourself?”

He snorts. “And who would I be hanging out with, exactly? Cody and Jocelyn?”

Jax just rolls her eyes, sitting at the other wrought iron chair at his little table. Hugging herself, she leans forward to watch the windows, and the glow from the lights catches her eyes, lighting them up so that he can see the full scope of the warm brown in her irises. She bounces her knee as she smirks at him and says, “Well, you could always be hanging out with me .”

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Are we not hanging out right now?”

She grins, leaning forward a little more to bury her face in his jacket sleeve where he’s got his arms resting on the table. “ No. No, because I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Were you looking for me all night?”

She peeks up at him, and he admires the sharp point of her eyeliner and the delicate spattering of freckles across her nose. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I actually have been looking for you.”

He actually laughs at that. “ Why? Literally anyone else would be better company at a party.”

“Is it so hard to accept the fact that I like you, Noah Marshall?” she says, sitting up and resting her arms on the table in a mirror of his position. She fixes him with a very confident stare that makes his ears burn. “Because I do like you. You’re my friend .”

He can’t quite fight the grin from spreading across his face. When he speaks, his voice is at a strange, new register—low and almost rasping as he leans toward her. “You’ve got weird taste in friends, Jaxson Kim.”

Her smile is fiery, eyes blazing like he’s never seen them before. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, like someone flipped a switch, whatever had started to burn in her eyes calms right back down to the normal shine he’s used to. She laughs and sits back, sighing contentedly even with the chilly air making her shiver again. “Are you having fun, even if you’re just sitting back here by yourself?”

He snorts, looking away to glance at the blue glow of the pool. “You know? I actually am. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it could be better, but it beats being at home.”

Under the table, her knee bumps into his, and she doesn’t move it. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, and she grins, bumping her leg against his once, twice, under the table.

“I’m glad. Though, I am surprised you even came, if I’m being honest,” she says lightly. She tilts her head curiously. “Why’d you decide to come?”

Noah’s eyes drop to his hands on the table, shaking his head. “It’s dumb.”

Jaxson just scoffs in response to that, and she’s shifting to lean toward him again. “I doubt it.” When he does nothing but raise an eyebrow at her, she laughs and says, “Tell you what—I’ll tell you something actually dumb if you tell me why you came.”

His eyes dart back and forth between hers, looking for the joke or the punchline, but he finds nothing but something that glitters soft and warm like the embers of a dying fire. Smirking, he says, “Depends on what you got.”

She laughs at that, nodding as her gaze drifts off toward the pool. “Fair enough.” Quiet settles over them for a moment as she thinks about her answer. Muffled music floats out from the party and into the night air as he watches her, waiting to hear what she has to say.

Eventually, she takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for a blow, and says, “I’ve been trying to work up my courage to talk to you for, like, 7 or 8 months now. Maybe more.”

That… isn’t what he thought she was going to say.

“And I do mean you,” she adds, smiling a little, “not everyone else. I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to approach it, to ask you to be in my life again without it sounding stupid or pathetic. I was terrified to take that final step because I… well, I thought you might hate me. I kept going back and forth between the fact that you seemed lonely and the idea that maybe it was too late to get you back.”

Her eyes come back to his, and the affection there makes his breath hitch.

“So, while all this shit that’s happening sucks, I’m weirdly glad for the icebreaker it was. Because I missed you.”

Well, damn.

Now his reason sounds really dumb.

Though he tries desperately to keep the smile off of his lips, he can tell by the way her face lights up that he is unsuccessful. Shifting nervously in his seat he shakes his head with a laugh and says, “God, you win. That is dumb.”

She nudges his foot with hers under the table. “Told you.”

“I just,” he starts, and then sighs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “I figure it’s better to be somewhere you hate with friends than to be alone, you know?”

When he glances at her again, she’s grinning. “I was right—that wasn’t stupid at all.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing away from the table to walk over to the fancy grill Britney’s family has. He can feel Jax watching him as he runs a hand over the cold metal lid. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing other than trying to get away from that penetrating gaze of hers. Sometimes it really feels like she’s seeing him at a level he doesn’t even know, and it’s strange.

Her voice distracts him from his thoughts.

“Gonna grill us up something?” she asks from behind him, voice playful. “I could go for something to eat.”

Noah can feel himself smiling as he turns to look at her again. “I mean, I could,” he says, shrugging as he turns to lean against the grill. “I make a pretty mean Philly cheesesteak with hot peppers.”

Jax raises her eyebrows, a smile still playing on her lips. “That sounds amazing.”

“With some of my special au jus?” he continues, shooting her a sly look. “Yeah. Bet you couldn’t find a better sandwich.”

Her smile is soft as she props her head up on her hand. “I didn’t know you were so into cooking.”

“You don’t actually know much about me anymore,” he says, and immediately he regrets it. The bitterness that had snuck into his voice makes him grimace, especially with how her face falls in response. “Sorry, that—”

“I know,” she interrupts. When he looks at her, she just looks sad. “You’re right. I’d like to know you, though. Like we used to know each other.”

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he’s not sure what he was expecting.

He doesn’t really know her all that well anymore either.

“Yeah?” is all he can think to say.

Her lips twitch. “I know Jane was my best friend, but you were my second best friend back then. I… I’m just sorry that 10-year-old me decided the best action was to pull away instead of cling harder to what I still had.”

“...me, too,” he mumbles.

He looks away then, biting into his cheek as he thinks about what to say. Eventually, he sighs and says, “When we were kids, our parents didn’t have a lot of time to make us dinner. Jane and I were starting to get sick of frozen meals, so I made us some grilled cheeses one day. It wasn’t anything fancy, but Jane said it tasted like happiness. After that I just sort of started to love it, I guess. I would love to open my own diner one day.”

“Really?”

Her voice surprises him a little, and when he glances at her, he finds her eyes shining with interest. He smiles a little, looking away, and says, “Yeah. I’d… I’d call it Baby Jane’s.”

“That’s… a really good name.”

Jaxson’s voice sounds sad, and her face mirrors this when he looks back at her. For a moment, he doesn't know what to say—but then he shrugs, forcing himself to remember who he is and where he is.

“It would be. Doesn’t matter, though—it’s never going to happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s not going to happen. It’s a pipe dream. It… There’s too much stuff I would need to do, to learn. I’ll be lucky if I get into Westchester Community College, let alone somewhere that would actually have something like I would need to open my own restaurant. I’d need to go to culinary school, and then there’s business school and marketing classes. It…” he pauses, sighing heavily as he shrugs, “it’s just not plausible. My family is too broke, even if my mom wanted to support me, she couldn’t. I’d never make it.”

“Well, maybe not with that attitude,” Jax scoffs. “You’re looking at it the wrong way. Your mom not having much money makes you the perfect candidate for financial aid.”

He hums. “I guess.”

“Oh, come on,” she laughs, and he can feel himself smile a little. “You can do better than that.”

“That’s as good as I’ve got, I’m afraid.”

“You’re going to culinary school,” she says flatly, and his face flushes as he looks over at her. “Say it.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, but indulges her with a mumble.

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

He snorts, but the grin on his face feels… good.

“I said: I’m going to culinary school.”

“Hell yeah!” she laughs, standing up and rushing over to throw her arms around him. He stiffens for the briefest moment, unsure of what to do before he hugs her back. “That’s the spirit. Now,” she adds, pulling back to offer him her hands. “Come on. Let’s go be rebellious teenagers and load up on snacks and extremely spiked punch.”

That actually makes him laugh, though he does slide his hands into hers, letting her lead him back toward the house. “Trying to get me drunk, Kim?”

“Pfft. You wish.”

He loses her in the crowd at some point. They’ve both had a fair bit to drink, and Britney’s house is dark now, only lit with cool party lights as the music pounds. He finds himself wandering through a sea of vaguely familiar faces, scanning the crowd for a familiar shock of pastel pink hair. He probably should have known that something was amiss, not being able to find her, but his head is spinning, and he retreats up the stairs to a dark hallway, hoping that he’ll be able to think a little more clearly.

As he’s checking his phone to see if he’s missed any texts from Jaxson—who had insisted that he spend the rest of the night with her, whether he wanted to dance or not—he realizes his mistake.

Two strong hands grasp his shoulders out of the darkness and, though he starts to scream, another hand clamps over his mouth.

A warm hand.

Through the blur of intoxication, he recognizes the foxlike grin on the face of the person standing in front of him.

Jocelyn.

And, if the overwhelming smell of Axe body spray is anything to go by, Cody has him, too.

“Hey, loser,” Jocelyn greets. “We have a surprise for you.”

Cody starts to drag him bodily down the hall, though Noah stumbles a bit over the rug beneath his feet. He doesn’t really know where they’re taking him, but it can’t be good if it’s these two. Cody laughs gleefully in his ear as he says, “Yeah, we wrapped it up and everything. It’s in the—”

“—what the fuck?”

Noah blinks as a door opens in front of him.

Jaxson blinks back at him.

“How did you get out of that zip-tie?” Jocelyn demands, distracting both of them. Jaxson opens her mouth to respond, but Jocelyn just shoves her back into the apparent closet she’d been locked in. “Whatever. Cody, throw the other one in. We’ll just lock the door this time.”

“Gotcha.”

And then Noah is stumbling head first into the dark, hissing when his head bumps into a shelf around the top of the small, dark room. His phone gets ripped out of his hand while he’s dazed, and though he rounds on them to grab it back, the door slams in his face before he gets the chance, blanketing both of them in complete darkness. From the other side of the door, Cody and Jocelyn laugh.

One of them bangs on the door a few times.

“Enjoy the party! Britney will let you out when it’s over. Probably.”

More laughter, and then it fades as they presumably wander back down the stairs.

Hm.

“Well,” Jaxson’s voice says somewhere near his right shoulder after a beat, “this is fun.”

Noah stands there for a moment, processing what has just happened, before he snorts, groaning as he reaches up to rub at his face. He slouches so that his head isn’t touching the bottom of the shelf and leans back against the wall.

“So,” he says, crossing his arms, “I found you, I guess.”

His eyes haven’t adjusted quite yet, but she laughs softly.

“Yep. Good old high school bullies,” she says, and her arm brushes against his as she leans against the wall beside him.

“What are we going to do?”

“I dunno. No one can hear us with the music like it is.”

She’s not wrong—the music is so loud that, even through the closed door and being on a separate floor, the walls are vibrating with the bass. Even if they started banging on the door and screaming, it would probably take a while for someone to notice.

He is suddenly very, very tired.

“Do you want to… find something to do in here?”

Noah snorts, looking over at her to try and see what kind of face she’s making, but it’s too dark to really tell beyond the fact that she doesn’t seem to be looking at him. He can hear her foot scuff against the floor as if she’s kicking at it.

“Literally what is there to do when we’re locked in a closet?”

“Well…”

Her voice is high-pitched, and her hair is light enough that he can make out that she’s tilted her head. He blinks, trying to figure out what she means, but the only thing his mind is going to is that stupid Seven Minutes in Heaven game that people play at parties sometimes, and surely she doesn’t mean she wants to…

“Jaxson.”

“Hmm?”

“I… I think I’m jumping to conclusions.”

“Isss the conclusion… that I’m asking if you wanna make out?”

“It… yeah?”

“Then you are jumping to the correct conclusion.”

… what.

“What.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” she says in a rush, still refusing to look at him, “honest, it’s just—well, you’re hot, and we’re stuck in here with nothing else to do, and it’s dark and, I mean, we are teenagers, and this is the kind of situation that—”

The words ‘you’re hot ’ are echoing around in his head as she starts to ramble, clearly panicking that she’s upset him somehow. He’s pretty sure something in his head has short-circuited, because he’s having trouble piecing together a single coherent thought. Every train of thought just comes back to, She thinks I’m hot. Jaxson Kim thinks I’m hot.

It takes him a minute before he realizes that she’s calling his name, and then he’s blinking at her stupidly. “...huh?”

From what he can see of her face, she looks upset. “Are you mad? I’m sorry. It was just an idea. I don’t—”

“I’m not mad , Jax,” he says, laughing a little. “Why would I be mad?”

She fiddles with her rings as she looks up at him, frowning in the dark. “I… I don’t know. Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I, uh, I didn’t hear you.”

“Didn’t hear me?”

“Yeah, I was—distracted.” He coughs, looking away and crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “I got distracted.”

Noah squirms under her questioning gaze which, while he can’t really see it, he can feel like static on his skin. His face is hot and his heart is beating so fast in his chest that he’s pretty sure she could probably hear it if she listened hard enough and—

“...Noah?”

He starts a little when she touches his arm, and she pulls her hand away as if she’d been burned, stepping back a bit to give him space. The air feels cooler with the distance, and worry starts to twist in his chest as her gaze drops to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, hugging her arms and looking very much like she wishes she could sink through the floor.

“Jax,” he murmurs, startling himself with the raspiness of his own voice. He shuffles closer, reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair away from her face. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

Jaxson reaches up and catches his hand before he can pull it away, pressing it to the side of her face. His heart skips in his chest, breath hitching as he lets his thumb idly follow the curve of her cheekbone. Her hands are soft against his skin, and he can feel her breath hitching too when he steps even closer, a warm, shaky puff of air against his face.

This close, he can see her biting at her lower lip, trying unsuccessfully to fight off a grin.

There’s just one thing left on his mind now. One thing…

“...Is this a joke?” he whispers, eyes wandering across her face.

Immediately, she frowns, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Is this a joke,” he repeats flatly, voice still low and quiet. His heart is pounding in his eardrums as he speaks, fear sending adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire. “A prank. Are you going to pull away the second I actually try to kiss you and start laughing at me?”

Jax is shaking her head before he’s even finished his sentence. “No…? Why would I ever do that to you?”

“I…” he starts, but trails off with a shrug when he realizes that he doesn’t really have an answer, turning his gaze to the wall instead of her face. “I don’t know. Just making sure, I guess.”

Jaxson hums softly in response, and then she closes the gap between them. Her hands slip away from his wrist, sliding up his chest until she can lock them together behind his neck. Her fingers slip through the hair at his nape as she smiles a little, pressing even closer, and breathes, “ Noah ?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

Well, shit. How is he supposed to say no to that?

Noah swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry as his eyes drop to her lips, curled into a soft, alluring smile. He sighs shakily, hands coming to rest hesitantly on her hips as he bends his neck until his forehead bumps against hers. Nose brushing nose, breath mingling—it’s all so terrifyingly, overwhelmingly real. His mind is a roar of white noise, a cacophony with the thought of I don’t know how to kiss people, I’ve never learned, I don’t know what I’m doing, blaring above it all.

He’s terrified of embarrassing himself in front of her, so he resolves to go slow and follow her lead as best he can.

Hesitantly, gently, he closes the distance between them, eyes slipping shut when he feels the first tickle of her skin on his lips. Her own fall parted at the touch, and he lets his do the same, and for a moment she just nuzzles her mouth against his, exhaling into him just as he breathes in. It’s humid and intimate, and his head is already spinning when—

Jaxson kisses him.

Slotting his lower lip between hers, she presses forward gently. It’s a strange sensation, sending little sparks of electricity skating across his skin, running down his spine until he shivers in her arms. He can feel her lips quirk upwards as she grins, stroking the hair on his neck before pressing another kiss to his lips.

Again.

And again.

They set up an easy rhythm, and there’s something mindless about the dance of her lips with his that has him sighing into her. Open, slide, press. Open, slide, press. His arms wind around her waist almost without any conscious thought from him, and he tilts his head as he does to kiss her a little harder. She hums and bites at his lower lip, holding it like that for a moment before letting go and kissing him again to soothe the sting.

His breath leaves him in a shuddering sigh, something that makes her giggle, and he finds himself grinning into her mouth in return. The butterfly swarm in his stomach does a set of flips as he presses her backward, one hand out to catch them so he doesn’t bump her head. As he presses her back into the wall, her mouth opens under his, and something hot and wet slips ever so slightly between his lips. It pulls a sound from his throat—something needy and desperate that makes his ears burn with embarrassment—but all it seems to do is spur her on. Apparently encouraged, her fingers dig into his shoulders as she pulls him closer, and his brows furrow as he matches her intensity.

When her mouth opens again, he tries to follow her lead and do what she did, flicking his tongue out to meet hers halfway—and she makes a noise this time, a quiet little whimper as his tongue slides against hers that sends heat coiling low in his gut. His fingers are digging into the back of her dress now, breath coming harder, one of his hands coming up to press at the back of her head to encourage her to deepen the kiss even more.

As his tongue twists with hers, something in his mind distantly recognizes why, exactly, other teenagers seem to do this so much. The sensation of her tongue in his mouth, hot and wet and flexible, is enough to drive him insane. He’s pressing against her desperately now, mouth open and hungry as he begs for more without words, one leg slipping between hers as he presses even closer. She’s panting into his mouth now, nails digging into his denim jacket, and the final bit of space between them is entirely eradicated with one final swoop as he tilts his head the other way and bites at her lip.

“Noah—”

A gasp that he swallows greedily falls from her lips, and something in the back of his mind feels very smug about the way her words trail off with a muffled moan. He can feel his own hands shaking as he runs them down her sides, fingers following every curve like an artist sculpting clay. Her dress is made of something synthetic and soft, and he is fascinated by the warmth of her as she gasps into his mouth.

“You’re shaking,” Jaxson mumbles, and for some reason, that makes him laugh a little.

“I am,” he agrees, chuckling a little.

She pulls away, but she doesn’t go far, instead sliding one of her hands into the hair at the back of his head. Her hand tightens and she uses her grip on his hair to pull his head to the side a bit, baring his throat as she plants a trail of kisses up his jawline and then down the column of his neck.

Into the hollow beneath his jaw, her voice buzzes against his skin as she asks, “ Do you want to stop?”

“Hell no,” he says immediately before he can even think about it. His eyes are closed, hands against the wall now to keep himself upright and steady as she lets her teeth drag against the sensitive skin over his jugular. “I… I never want to stop.”

The words make her laugh, and he can feel her smile on his skin.

“I mean,” she says lightly, kissing his throat a few times, “that can be arranged.”

He opens his mouth to say something—he thinks it was about to be something snarky and suave, but he’s not really sure—but she cuts him off before he can by sinking her teeth into his neck.

Noah’s breath leaves him in a hiss, and for the smallest moment, he’s afraid his knees might give out from under him. His arms shake with the effort of keeping him standing as he nearly goes limp in her arms, mind blank but for the feeling of her mouth on his throat. She bites him again, a little below the last spot, kissing at the marks to soothe the surprisingly pleasant pain. He groans softly, letting his head fall farther to the side, and she giggles into his skin.

“You like that, huh?”

“Jaxson, please, I—”

The door opens.

Noah gasps, trying to jump away from Jaxson as much as he can in such a cramped space, but her immediate reaction of clutching him tighter in shock prevents it. In fact, all he manages to do is bump his head on the shelf again as his face burns with humiliation.

“EW, OH MY GOD!”

Ah. The hostess herself.

He can’t even look out into the hallway with Jax still clutching him, so he just stares at the wall and tries not to give in to the urge to drop dead.

“Uh, Brit, maybe we should—” comes Lily’s quiet voice a moment later, but Britney cuts her off.

“What the hell are you doing having sex in my parents’ linen closet? ” Britney nearly shrieks.

Noah’s immediate mortification is somehow overridden by the indignant urge to correct her, and he finally unfreezes just long enough to shoot her a glare and say, “We are not —”

But Jaxson beats him to the punch. She does pull away, but the feeling of her sliding her hands into his has him cutting off and looking down at her with confusion. Her hair is messy, and her lipstick is smudged, her dress hiked up on her thigh—and she’s smirking as she delicately wipes the corner of her mouth with her finger.

“Why don’t you ask Jocelyn and Cody about that?” she asks smoothly, leading him out of the closet as she does. “I’m sure they have a great explanation for why they locked us in here. Thanks for letting us out, though.”

And, without waiting for either of the girls to answer, she just turns and walks off down the stairs to head back into the fray, holding his hand tight all the while.

They push through the crowd of teens, clinging tight to each other until they step back out into the backyard, and they both sigh as the cool night air hits their skin. For a second, all they do is stand there, staring at the pool and holding hands…

…and then she lets go.

Noah tries not to flinch. He’s not sure if he succeeds.

“Sorry if that was embarrassing,” Jaxson says, coughing a bit and clutching at her elbow with the hand she’d been using to hold his. She avoids looking at him, but he can tell she’s blushing even in the bad outdoor lighting. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Jax,” he says softly. She looks up at him finally, eyes wide and—hopeful? He smiles at her. “I already told you that you don’t need to be sorry.”

She smiles a little, though she still looks afraid that he’s going to yell at her or something. “Yeah?”

… fuck it.

They could all die tomorrow because of Mr. Red. He doesn’t have time to be a chicken anymore.

Stepping closer, Noah reaches up to brush some of the hair that had fallen loose from the bun behind her ear. When her hesitant smile turns into a grin, he brushes his fingers against her cheek and leans in to press a slow, soft kiss to her lips.

It’s different, kissing her in the light. He’s very aware of the people chatting quietly somewhere nearby, and of the window right beside them. He’s also aware of the way she presses up on her toes to kiss him back, of her hand coming up to hold his hand to her cheek.

He’s very, very aware of the fact that she isn’t shying away from being seen kissing him. That she lingers, and that one kiss turns into two, three, four more before she breaks the kiss with a laugh, dropping back down to the flats of her feet.

When he opens his eyes, she’s grinning up at him, biting her lip with a pretty pink flush on her face.

........

Oh, how he wishes that that was what he’d done.

No, that isn’t how it goes.

........

After she says, “Yeah? ” all he does in response is shove his hands into his pockets and grin, shrugging.

“Yeah,” he says, scuffing one of his sneakers against the concrete under his feet. “That was fun. I had—a much better time than I expected to have.”

Her smile is warm, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes like it usually does as her gaze trails down to his neck. “I’m glad. You, uh, you might want to find a scarf or something to wear the next few days, though.”

Noah remembers frowning, tilting his head with a puzzled look on his face.

Jaxson grimaces and gestures to his neck. “You… bruise easily, apparently.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

She laughs, looking away and biting at her lip again. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Again,” he says, feeling two inches to the left of his body. “No need to apologize. It takes two to tango or something, right?”

Another laugh. “Right.”

“Well…” Fuck, this is awkward now. “I think I’m about partied out,” he says, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “Think I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh,” she says, and when he glances at her, she looks a little disappointed. “Okay. I’m glad you had fun.”

A grin pulls at his lips. “Tons of fun. I’ll see you Monday?”

She nods, smiling a little. “See you.”

........

It’s hard to lie to himself later that night when he lays awake for hours with the phantom touch of her kiss on his lips that all of that hadn’t meant anything to either of them.

It’ll be even harder to lie to himself later, but he doesn’t know that yet.

Not yet.

#my writing #it lives in the woods #noah marshall #noah marshall x mc #noah x mc #jaxson kim #hi. i am going to be insufferable.

37 notes · View notes

501st-rexster · 1 year ago

Text

HERE IT IS

So I got a confidence boost and finally finished the first part of the first chapter of the Western AU.

I really hope people like this, I have spent a long time working on the story and have had a lot of fun writing it. But for now, here's the first part!

Outlaw For Truth

TW: Mild swearing, drinking, death, graphic description of injuries, ANGST

WC: 2,718

No one ever said being an officer of the law was easy.

No one ever warned that you'd be falsely accused of murder, arrested by the very people you try to protect, and be forced to team up with an outlaw to find your best friend’s killer all while evading an unrelenting mule of a man and a rattler that would like nothing more than to see your blood stain the dirt.

And no one ever told Deputy Rex Ward that he'd go through such an ordeal he'd be within inches of his life more times than he could count in less than a month.

No one could have possibly prepared him for Cody Fett’s death.

Wild West, South Dakota, 1896

“Is the coffee maker fixed yet, Rex?”

The Deputy sighed heavily, glancing over at the Sheriff that sat with his boots up on his desk, chewing aggressively on a toothpick. “No, Cody, it’s not going to be fixed since the last time you asked me twenty minutes ago. We still haven't gotten a new replacement for the broken bottom.” He retorted as he ran a polishing cloth over the barrel of his Whitworth rifle. “If you're real desperate, why don'tcha stick a can outside and put some crushed beans in there. I'm sure it'll taste fine.” He snickered.

Sheriff Cody Fett took the toothpick from his mouth and sighed heavily before he flicked it at his friend with a smirk. “That attitude ain’t changed one bit since we were kids, has it?”

Deputy Rex Ward rolled his eyes when the toothpick hit his knee. He cracked a smile at his senior officer. “You’re the one who chose me for a Deputy, sir,” he pointedly sneered the name. “You had your choice of the other officers, but you chose your best friend. Means you have to deal with all the attitude I come with. Not my fault you make poor decisions.”

Cody tilted his Stetson hat down to create a better shadow over his eyes as they narrowed ever so slightly, the golden glow shining in the late afternoon sunlight that snuck in the window, outlining his thin lipped grin. “Watch it, you son of a bitch, or I’ll have to string you up one of these days.” He joked.

Rex opened his mouth to say something when another voice beat him to words. “Can’t you two go one day without poking at each other? Ain’t you got better things to do?” Asked Officer Jesse Brooks as he walked in, adjusting the black and white bandana around his neck. “Can’t believe you two still bicker like a pair of badgers fightin’ over a rattlesnake.” He muttered.

Rex kicked back and tilted his head as he leaned his rifle against his desk, shrugging the shoulders of his navy blue jacket. “Ah, come on, Jess, we’re not nearly that aggressive. Now, you get Cody and that bastard Fox Gray in the same room…” He snickered as he cast a mischievous glance over at his best friend.

Sheriff Fett sighed. “You’re not talking about that duel we had a few years back, are you?” His tone held a hint of exasperation, even more so when Rex nodded. “Yeah, well, he shoulda known not to mess with me. He’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet through his forehead.”

“No, you just put one in his shoulder instead.”

“Enough, Rex.”

Jesse couldn’t help but smile at the usual banter between the two officers of the law. In the three years he’d worked with them as an officer for the town of Yankton, he had learned within the first month that Cody Fett and Rex Ward had been friends since they were boys, only age eight, and had sworn to protect each other for life. They were like brothers to each other. Now, twenty five years later, they sat at the highest seats in town, willingly burdened with the safety of their people. And they’d done a fantastic job of protecting everyone. The amount of outlaws and ne’er-do-wells they’d put behind bars rivaled anyone in the history of the town.

Jesse hung his vest on the rack near the door; the early afternoon sun, despite the late season, still scorched the town. The Officer removed his holster from his belt and set it on the desk as he fell into his chair. He grabbed the metal cup of water and took a long swig before leaning his head back and blowing a hard breath through his lips.

The Deputy spun his custom Colt Revolver in his hand, backwards then front, then backwards again. “Y’alright, Jess? You look a little tired.”

“Have you been outside today, sir? It’s gotta be ninety bleedin’ degrees out! Ain’t even a slight bit airish!” He then shook his head. “But that’s less important’n what I been hearing. We been getting reports of mysterious threats bein’ left on folks’ doors,” he said far more seriously.

The Sheriff sat up straight. “Someone’s threatening the people?” Asked Cody, clearly ready to swing at whoever might be winding up to hurt his townsfolk.

Jesse hesitated, then shook his head. “Well, not exactly. They’re getting threats, but not aimed at them. Seems almost everyone’s gotten a threat that was aimed at you.” He nodded to his Sheriff.

Rex turned his head to his best friend with wide eyes only to find a faint smile on Cody’s face. “That ain’t anything new. Same thing happened a few years back, remember, Rex?”

The Deputy chuckled. “Found out it was some kids playin’ a prank. Boy, did they spend time working that off.”

Jesse hesitated. “There has been word of a few new outlaws in the area, though. Maybe one’s set his sights on our town.”

Rex narrowed his amber eyes, his pistol stopping in his hand to be held at the ready. “Then they’d be messing with the wrong men. Anyone threatens Fett, they mess with me, too. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to him as long as I’m around.”

“Ever the optimistic one, aren’t you, Ward?” The sly voice came from the door, and Rex groaned, dropping his head back as he holstered his pistol.

“No one asked you, ya uppish mule,” snarled Rex. The words brought a snort of entertainment from both the Sheriff and Jesse. The Military Captain’s eyes narrowed and he stalked over to Rex’s desk, his boots clacking on the creaky wooden floor, to plant his hands on the oak top. His eyes bored into the Deputy, the large scar that ran over his right eye more vibrant in the limited light.

“I know you feel awful cushy in my old place, Ward. I don’t give half a mind what you have to say. You’ll always be a prudish boy who doesn't know his place.” the Captain said, silver eyes glaring down at the Deputy.

Rex slowly turned his head to the Captain, a faint smirk on his face. “Oh, I know my place, Wolffe. It’s right above you, where I belong. And you’ll refer to me with respect, else I’ll have your badge from the outpost.” He threatened.

Wolffe scoffed. “My badge? We all know it’s Fett’s badge you want!” He sneered.

Rex’s eyes sharpened in a millisecond. “What?”

Cody sat up straight, eyebrows knit with confusion. Wolffe laughed. “Come off it, Deputy. I know you want to be Sheriff. You want all the power-”

Before anyone could do anything, Wolffe found himself pinned against the wall, Rex’s hand tight around the collar of his gray jacket. His black boots were planted with one back and one pressed against Wolffe’s leg, keeping him secured, as if the daggers in his eyes wouldn't do that well enough. The Deputy’s face was wrought with fury. “Don’t you ever accuse me of wanting that. I’d follow Cody to the ends o’ the Earth, and he deserves every morsel of where he is. I’ve never wanted to be Sheriff, I’m content where I am, cuz I earned it. You’re making some pretty big talk for someone who failed at their job not long ago.”

Wolffe immediately tried to shove Rex’s hands away, but the man’s grip was like iron. Wolffe scoffed. “Still up on that high horse, Deputy. You’ll know your place one day.”

Rex shoved Wolffe back against the wall before he dropped the man’s shirt from his hands and stepped back. “I told you. I know my place.” He stepped back to his desk and picked up his black Stetson, slipping it on with a huff of air. His rifle was lifted into his hand, grip tight on the stock, then he started towards the door. “It’s at our Sheriff’s side.” He reached the door and pushed it open, letting the early afternoon sun blanket him in light before he turned his head to halfway face the Captain. His golden eyes were masked under the shadow of his hat, but they still held a determined sheen to them. “It always will be.”

The moment after Rex left, Cody leaned back in his chair, his boots once again up on his desk as he smirked at Wolffe. “I woulda thought you’d have learned by now, Captain. Ward isn’t a person you mess with. And should you ever question his integrity again, I’ll personally drag you to the stocks.”

After Wolffe angrily adjusted his jacket and stormed to the back towards the records he was there to receive, Cody chuckled slightly then looked out the window to see his friend mount his horse and trot down the street to start his patrol. “I’ve got yer’ back, brother. And I know you’ve got mine.”

Later that day, as Cody was slipping on his jacket, ready to head out, he heard the sound of boots coming up the steps and he turned to see Rex walk back into the building. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“You’ve been gone a while. Did your patrol go well?” His head tilted. “Or were you spending all that time steamin’ about Wolffe?”

Rex’s fist clenched and he shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I could never fully express how much I hate him.”

Cody scoffed. “You two have hated each other for years. Ever since you met the guy, you’ve hated him.”

Rex leaned against the doorjamb. “Something ‘bout him rubs me the wrong way. He’s a self-entitled jackass, Cody. I just-” His lips pursed in a frown and Cody sighed. He clipped his holster to his belt then walked to his friend’s side and slung his arm around Rex’s shoulder.

“Brother, you can’t be letting him get to you like that. Sure, he drives us nuttier n’ a blackfly in June, but you’re the one he should be worried about. You’ve got the quickest draw in the land, and with those barking irons,” he nodded to the pistols holstered on Rex’s belt. “Folks know not to mess with you.” He knocked his head against Rex’s causing their hats to go askew. “And don’t listen to what he said. I know you’ll always be at my side. That junk about you after my badge-”

Rex shook his head. “Cody, I don’t know what the hell was in his head, but-”

“Hey, I know you’d never do that.” The grin that shone like the sun broke out on Cody’s face. His hand pressed against Rex’s chest. “This right here? This is the purest person I know. You don’t ever have to worry about me thinkin’ bad of you, cuz there’s nothing to think of. You’re my best friend, Rex. My brother. Always have been, always will be. I won’t take slander from some brown-nosed Captain who thinks he’s better’n you.” He nudged Rex with his shoulder and finally drew a smile from his Deputy. “C’mon. Let’s go for a drink.”

Rex grinned at his best friend. “Don’t gotta ask me twice.

Five minutes later they walked into the saloon where the barkeep looked up and grinned at them. “If it ain’t my two best customers. What’ll it be today, boys? Whiskey? Bourbon?” Mayday asked, and Rex chuckled as they sat down after waving at a few of the locals.

“Gimme your strongest, Mayday, I gotta get something off my mind.”

Mayday turned around and started pouring a glass of the strongest whiskey he had, smirking as he did. “Something, or someone?” He wondered. Cody snickered at the question.

Rex rolled his eyes. “Captain Wolffe. Every time I see that bastard I want to slug him in the face. And his brother ain’t any better. He’s SO much worse. That snake drives me insane.” Rex took an immediate sip of the whiskey as soon as it was placed in front of him. Cody glanced up at Mayday.

“I’ll have my usual. Bourbon and rum.” He then glanced at Rex. “Look, I know you’ve always hated them, but why do you hate them so much-”

“You serious?” Rex turned to Cody. “Have you forgotten what happened the first time we all met?” Cody sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. “‘Sides, he’s a jerk, he’s stuck up, he’s heartless, he don’t care about anyone. The Gray brothers are bastards.”

Cody took a slow sip of his drink when Mayday handed it to him, then leaned on the counter. “Okay, I get it. You’ve always hated them. They’re not too high up on my list of folks I like, but you gotta realize Wollfe is just doin’ his job right?” Cody then hesitated before he started chuckling. “What the hell am I defending him for, I hate him too!” He then smirked deviously with a glance at his best friend. “And I ain’t ever thrown out a telegram so fast as the one I got from the Sheriff o’ Deadwood.”

Rex barked out a laugh. “You threw out a ‘gram from Fox and you ain’t even read it? Now that’s my kind of petty!”

Mayday leaned on the counter with a grin. “I’d love to see the day them Gray brothers get what they deserve. Fox an’ Wolffe? Ain’t never been two people less suited for law. I heard even the people in Fox’s town hate ‘im. And a few of the soldiers from the Outpost have come by here, inconspicuously, and gotten drunk over how much they hate it.”

Rex tilted his head. “Wait, they come here? Why not go to Dell Rapids, it’s closer, ain’t it?” Wondered the Deputy, but Mayday grinned.

“Yeah, it’s closer, but that bartender ain’t got an ear for dirt on people like I got. You know I got all the good info on everyone. Don’t matter if you’re from our town or not, I know shit. Besides, one of ‘em once said I make a better mixed drink and apparently my brandy tastes better.” Mayday shrugged. “Extra business and talk from the outpost. I ain’t complaining!”

Cody and Rex laughed and began to exchange enjoyable conversation, set up the next poker night, and talked about how good the hunting had been this year. Hours passed, and the local patrons slowly trickled out until it was just Cody and Rex.

Mayday glanced at the clock and chuckled. “Alright, boys, I’m gonna hafta call it, it’s nearly eleven and you two have a town to take care of. Get yer asses home.” As the two lawmakers stood up after paying the tab, Mayday nodded at them and they nodded back.

Cody slung his arm around Rex’s shoulder as they walked out, laughing with each other. They got to the main road, and Cody nodded towards the station. “Hey, I got a few more reports I gotta finish but I’ll see you tomorrow, brother. Bright and early.”

Rex knocked his head against Cody’s and pulled him close. “Always. Don’t work yourself too hard. I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.” They let each other go and parted ways, and as Rex walked down the moonlit street, he chuckled to himself.

He couldn’t ask for a better partner than Cody.

All that they had done together, the years they’d spent growing up as brothers and protecting each other, learning to hunt and working their way up the ranks to achieve their dreams of being lawmakers.

They had done everything together. Never alone. Always by one another’s sides.

And Rex couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

The next morning, Rex rode up to the station in the barely lit street, still in the early hours, when a small whinny made him glance up to see Cody’s horse, Trapper, tied at the post, stomping its feet. Rex’s eyebrow rose. Maybe Cody had come in early? He looked up at the station, but none of the lights were on. He chuckled to himself.

Cody had never gotten home. He fell asleep at his desk again.

Rex had always chided Cody on staying late and falling asleep at the department, but the man was so dedicated to his work it was hard to keep him from it.

As Rex dismounted his horse and led him closer, he noticed Trapper seemed anxious. Rex tied his stallion up and smiled at the beautiful Chestnut belonging to Cody. He rubbed a hand over Trapper’s neck.

“Easy, boy. Easy. I’ll get you both some fresh water.” Rex walked to the well pump and filled up a bucket before he returned to the horses and poured the water into the low trough. Trapper hesitated, his head looking around warily and lingering on the department before he slowly lowered his head and began to drink. Rex smiled and ran his hand down his horse’s neck before turning towards the station.

He quietly walked up the steps and into the station, the floor creaking under his boots as the worn wood always did. Electing to leave the light off, he shed his jacket and dropped it on his desk as he walked over to Cody’s desk. He smirked when he saw Cody’s silhouette slumped with one arm stretched across his desk, his forehead leaning on his other. Rex chuckled again. “C’mon, Cody, it’s time for work.” He said, eyebrow rising at no visible response. He reached out his hand to shake Cody’s shoulder, but it was met with a wet feeling on Cody’s shirt. Rex drew back his hand quickly as he leaned on Cody’s desk only to feel more liquid on his hands. He fumbled for the lamp on the desk, then his breath stopped when the light was flicked on.

Blood covered his hands, splattered Cody’s desk, and pooled under his arms. Rex’s throat was so tight he could barely breathe as he reached out to lift his best friend’s head. “C-Cody?” His voice sounded like a little boy, leaning closer to Cody, then he fell back when he saw the bullet hole in Cody’s forehead, the blood that covered his face from open wounds, bruises that dotted his neck and spotted his cheeks, and his eyes, half-open and void of any life.

“N…No…” Rex collapsed to the floor, struggling to find any semblance of air in his lungs. He stared at his hands and his brother’s blood that wet them.

This couldn’t be happening.

Cody couldn’t be-

He couldn’t be dead. Rex couldn’t physically process it. Tears had started down his face and he shakily stood to kneel next to his best friend, reaching out his hand to touch Cody’s fluffy locks of hair. A sob escaped his lips and he fell forward, head pressed against the edge of Cody’s desk. “You can’t be gone… Cody…” He choked out. His hand remained on Cody’s head as he cried. “Come back to me…”

He suddenly jolted, realizing he needed to get help. He jumped and ran to the telephone, quickly spinning the rotary dial and calling the sheriff’s office in the next town over. As much as he absolutely hated to call him, he needed help. He listened to it ring and ring, then finally an answer came through, an irritated grumble.

“What the hell do you want, Ward?” Fox snarled. “It’s way too early.”

Rex let out a hard breath. “FOX! I-” He then hesitated. “Wait, how’d you know it was me?”

A small beat went by before Fox sighed. “You’re the only one who’s ever at the station this early. Now what do you want?”

Rex tried to steady his breathing. “Cody is dead… someone killed him last night, Fox!”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” The cold voice asked.

Rex’s eyebrows rose at the odd response. “What do I… Fox, Cody is DEAD! I expect you to come help me!” He demanded.

A small grunt was heard on the other end of the line. “Calm yerself, I’ll be there.”

Rex heard the phone click and he stared at the receiver for a moment. Fox had not taken the news like he thought he would.

But Rex didn’t have time to worry about that right now. He stood up and squeezed his eyes shut, looking over his shoulder at Cody’s body. “What do I do without you?” He barely whispered. His mind began to swirl and he slid to the ground, barely stabilizing himself with the table. His head pounded and he squeezed his eyes shut as his body began to shake. “I can’t do this without you…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alright, there's the first part of the first chapter!! I really hope this absolutely destroyed some people because I love demolishing people's hearts with my writing (it seems to be one of the few things I'm good at in life) Please let me know what you thought and if you want to read more once I finish the first chapter!

#the clone wars #captain rex #commander cody #commander fox #commander wolffe #clone wars au #cowboy au

9 notes · View notes