#odessa x ghoul

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

Written for @cloned-eyes and for Ghoul, with love and affection <3 (this is like 11 pages, be warned)

PART ONE

Odessa knew the face of every soldier who walked into 79s. How could she not, when they all wore the same face? The same deep brown eyes, the same tanned skin, the same dark hair—the fun came with finding ways to differentiate between them. Most clones did the job for her, marking themselves with tattoos (on the face!!), or shaving designs into their hair. Those were the easy ones and she had no trouble remembering the names they gave her, often spoken loudly, with pride, as if to say Look at me! I found myself!

She could tell how important it was for them to hold onto the little things that made them all individuals. She admired that about them. Made to be tools for war, but determined to be seen as people. It touched something inside of her, something soft and sweet that made her give out free drinks every now and then when her boss wasn't paying attention. She couldn't help herself even if she tried. She just liked them.

But her favorites had to be the ones who came in for the first time, the shinies who had no idea what to expect because they had never taken leave on Coruscant before. She loved seeing the looks on their faces: excitement and a bit of wonder, wearing broad, bright smiles that made her heart melt. It made the job worth it, even if the pay wasn't much to brag about. 

She looked forward to learning their names and their quirks, loved watching them change each time, eager to show off new tattoos, piercings, scars—they were good men, all of them.

A group of shinies entered now, loud and rambunctious and barely held in check by a seasoned patron, who looked just about as amused as she felt. Odessa caught his eye and waved enthusiastically, her lekku already twitching in anticipation of meeting the newbies. A couple waved back shyly, and another stared with wide eyes. It was also easy to tell when a clone hadn't ever seen a Twi’lek in the flesh—they always stared at first. 

"I’ll be with you shortly!" she called out as she ran three cold mugs beneath the tap for spicebrew. The clone in charge of the shinies gave her a thumbs up—Hammerhead, she thought to herself, only Hammerhead gives me the thumbs up like that—and herded his brood into one of the large booths. 

Behind the group was another familiar face, once she didn’t see too often—Commander Wolffe, still outfitted in his white armor and carrying his helmet under his arm. He had been a tough one to crack at first, too austere and always ‘switched on’. Odessa used to think he didn’t know how to relax because he never seemed to smile, but bit by bit she had managed to get him to let down his guard—not a lot, but just enough to know that his way of letting loose and having fun was just as simple as showing up to the bar and having a stiff one before returning to the barracks. He didn’t engage in a whole lot of small talk but he was polite, if a bit short with his words. 

Odessa put on her best smile and waved at the Commander, who gestured toward two empty seats at the end of the bar before making his way over. Too late, Odessa realized he had arrived with someone else; she hadn’t seen him at first, perfectly hidden behind Wolffe’s armored bulk, but the second Wolffe moved out of the way Odessa sucked in a sharp breath.

He was average clone height and wore the same scuffed armor as Wolffe, but he didn’t look like a clone at first glance. Beneath his heavy facial scarring there was the telltale shape of his nose that gave it away. Beyond that? 

She didn’t mean to stare—and it seemed like she wasn’t the only one having trouble. As Wolffe and the newcomer made their way past the occupied tables and booths, more than a few clones paused their conversations and drinking and turned their heads to watch. He moved like he didn’t notice the way they looked at him—or if he did notice, he just didn’t care. Maybe he was used to it. Odessa couldn’t blame anyone…he was missing half his face.

Her heart skipped a beat and she didn’t know why. She had seen more than her fair share of war wounds—excited shinies fresh out of the medbay shoving their still healing skin grafts in her face and informing her they weren’t shinies no more, shy soldiers asking her if she thought they still looked like themselves after getting hit in the side of the face with shrapnel, and the bolder ones, like Hammerhead, asking for a kiss to ‘make it feel better’ while holding out a finger that had only been reattached a few hours ago—but the cybernetic component grafted in place of where his lower jaw should have been…it was so gruesome. Worse than anything that had come before it.

"Ah, fierfeck!" Odessa cursed as the spicebrew spilled past the rim of the mug she was filling and all over her hand. It dripped down her arm, off her elbow and onto the floor, making another mess she'd have to clean up before it dried sticky and tacky. She hadn’t even realized the mugs were so close to being full.

“That’s what you get for not payin’ attention!” Slackjaw laughed, leaning his torso across the bar to snatch one of the mugs from her hand. Odessa glared, but shook her head at him. His squad mates, Mooch and Piston, snickered, but adopted the most innocent expressions when she turned her eye on them.

“Shut up,” she grumbled good naturedly, setting the remaining two mugs in front of them.

They all chuckled and took their drinks with them as they sauntered off with the easy confidence of men who were looking to forget the entire evening by the time the sun rose. Odessa sighed and nervously rearranged her lekku before crouching down to mop up the worst of the mess. 

“Sorry Commander,” she shouted toward the end of the bar, where Wolffe was now seated with his companion. “I will be there in a moment!”

Down on the ground it was easy to drown out the noise and clamor of the bar. The music filled the space between conversation and the clink of dishware and bottles, but so close to the speakers it was easy to get distracted. That's all she was—distracted by the usual noise and hustle and bustle. It was a busy night with a lot of clones clamoring to get in before last call and drink their fill. More than one unit was on leave, which made for good tips and fascinating stories. If she was lucky, they'd all run the bar dry early and she could convince her boss to close up. At least it wasn't a night where she was supposed to dance at her second job too.

With a huff, Odessa sat back on her heels and surveyed the floor, checking for any other major spills she might’ve missed. Then, on instinct, she looked up to see if Wolffe had heard her…and almost fell right over when she caught the immediate gaze of the other clone. 

He was staring right at her, both his eyes the same, strange pale color as Wolffe’s cybernetic implant. Odessa swallowed and felt a flush work its way through her lekku and over her forehead, until her cheeks burned dark with the rush of blood to just beneath the surface of her skin. Caught you, his expression said, right before he sneered and turned his attention back to Wolffe. Shame filled her in that moment; it was so unprofessional to stare, not to mention rude. She should have known better and yet allowed herself to get caught up on it, like she’d never seen a prosthetic before in her life.

Stupid! Idiot! What were you thinking? she chastised herself as she climbed back to her feet. With her cheeks still aflame, she ran drink menus to the first table that had sat down and told them—begged them to take their time because as they could plainly see, she was a bit overrun and the only one at the bar. Hammerhead smiled his gap-toothed smile and told her not to worry about it, his shinies could barely fall in line, let alone order off a drink menu—he’d call when they were ready.

Taking a deep breath, Odessa hurried back to the bar—“Just one moment,” she said to the clone asking for a refill of whatever cocktail he had already had too much of—and grabbed another set of menus before hustling over to where Wolffe sat, his helmet taking up an appropriate amount of space to keep anyone else from occupying the seat next to them. A second helmet sat on the table closest to the wall, next to the other clone. He wasn’t looking at her this time, at least, but the burn of his earlier glare had left its impression. She smiled brightly and bounced in front of them, holding the menus out.

“Sorry for the wait, gentlemen,” she chimed, “it is so busy tonight and Rumi called out.”

“It’s fine,” Wolffe said in his usual sharp tone. He didn’t mean to be brusque, that was just the way he spoke. Odessa had learned not to take offense a long time ago.

“We won’t be needing these,” he said, waving his hand at the menus. “We’ll both have the Oryxxian Catsblood.”

“Very good choice,” Odessa smiled. “We just got a fresh shipment in, I believe. You want it on the rocks?”

“Sure.”

“Not me,” the other spoke up, his voice gravelly and soft. “I take it warm.”

“Sorry,” Wolffe said, “this is an old batchmate of mine. We came up together, but our rotations haven’t aligned until now. We’re just here for a couple drinks.”

“A pleasure,” Odessa said, meaning it and hoping to make up for her earlier rudeness. “I am Odessa, though you may call me Odie; all the boys do.”

He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken to him at all. She thought she saw a shadow of annoyance pass over his face, but it was difficult to tell with his prosthetic.

“What about you,” she pressed, leaning her hip against the counter and watching him closely. “You have a name, or should I just call you ‘trooper’?”

His nose wrinkled in a definite sneer this time, and the look he gave her was almost poisonous. Odessa recoiled, hugging the menus against her chest like a flimsy shield. She hadn’t seen that look on a clone before, so hateful and angry. 

I insulted him just now, she thought to herself, frantically trying to assess what it was that could have incited such a look from him. Was it the ‘trooper’ comment? That’s what she called every clone she did not know by name, and none had ever taken offense before now. She almost apologized, but Wolffe beat her to action, reaching up and flicking his gloved finger against the other’s exposed ear.

“Cut it out!” the unnamed clone hissed, slapping his hand over his ear. At least his glare wasn’t affixed to her anymore, but his aura remained hostile.

“Stop mean-mugging the pretty lady before she’s poured our drinks,” Wolffe shot back, unaffected by the other’s glare. He turned back to Odessa and offered her a small, tight smile, the only kind she had ever seen him give before. 

“I apologize for my brother,” he said. “Ghoul doesn’t get out much unless I got ‘im leashed. It’s been so long he’s forgotten things like manners.”

Ghoul.

Looking back at his face, it was a fitting name; he certainly looked like he had crawled out of the grave, with the ribbons of scars leading up over his upper lip and surrounding his eyes. The detail work on his prosthetic was very intricate; instead of a sculpted lower lip he sported a row of teeth, and the carbon black material stretched all the way back to his ears, which also carried heavy scarring. He looked like Death itself. Odessa forced herself to look away and shrugged at Wolffe’s apology.

“It is no trouble,” she said. “I have only not seen him before. First time at 79s?”

For a moment she didn’t think he’d answer. He seemed determined to ignore her, like she was an inconvenience. Perhaps she was intruding? It wasn’t often that Wolffe graced her bar with his presence, but she remembered the last time he came he arrived alone, sat in one of the back booths by himself and nursed his drink for well over an hour before taking his leave. Now he had brought someone with him…it was different.

“No,” Ghoul growled. “Not my first time. Just been a while.”

“Probably before my time, eh?” Odessa said. “Very well, I will get your drinks. Anything else, Commander?”

“I think we’re set,” Wolffe said with a nod. “Thanks, Odie.” 

She gave a little salute with two fingers and removed herself to the middle of the bar, standing on her toes to reach the bottle of Oryxxian Catsblood. She knew she should leave it alone, leave Wolffe to deal with his friend and check in with them only when she saw their drinks getting low. She hadn’t been bartending for too long, but one of the first lessons she had learned was how to tell when a patron wanted or needed a little more attention than the bare minimum. Ghoul may as well have a neon sign over his head, blinking DO NOT APPROACH in bright warning colors. He gave off all the signs of not wanting anything to do with her.

She could respect that…but when she looked over her shoulder, she caught sight of Wolffe’s face, his mouth stretched into the widest grin she had ever seen on him, until he almost didn’t look like Wolffe anymore. He slapped his hand on Ghoul’s shoulder and actually laughed. That was as carefree as she’d ever seen the Commander.

He can’t be that bad, if Wolffe likes him so much, Odessa thought to herself. He will just need time to warm up.

~~~

“You didn’t have to drag me out here to catch up,” Ghoul said, keeping his voice to just above a murmur. “Could have had a drink in the barracks.”

“You know it’s against regulation to keep alcohol on base,” Wolffe said, side-eyeing him in a way that meant he was either teasing or deadly serious, and Ghoul found himself a little pissed off that he couldn’t tell which it was.

“Since when do you care about regulation?”

“A lot’s changed. Gotta set a good example now.”

“Tch. You’ve turned into such a good soldier. Nice and regimented, exactly how they want us to be.”

“You need to relax. I didn’t come here to talk politics, I brought us here to see how you’re holding up.”

Ghoul stiffened at his words, an immediate influx of paranoia almost causing him to look over his shoulder. But his back was already pressed against the wall and he could survey the entire lay of the bar without any blind spots. He had insisted on it, not with words, but the way he had almost bodied Wolffe out of his way to get to the corner seat first. That was normal though. Most of them would have preferred to keep their backs against something solid…just in case. He wasn’t losing it. He was perfectly held together, he—

“You’re doin’ it again,” Wolffe chuckled.

“...doing what?”

“Tensing. We’re not headed into a warzone. Loosen up before you snap a muscle.”

Ghoul wanted to argue, but it was true. His shoulders felt so stiff from the way he was holding himself and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been in his kit for more than a full rotation. He wanted to shower and sleep and try to forget about the last mission he had just returned from. He needed a smoke more than anything, but his last pack of cigarettes had been confiscated and he hadn’t had the chance to pick up a new one before Wolffe had hit up his commline with the offer of drinks on him if they met up at 79s.

He had almost refused. Going out to a crowded bar full of idiot, idealistic clones plastered three sheets to the wind wasn’t his idea of fun, but it had been too long since he had last seen Wolffe, and there was an ache inside of him that could only be assuaged by the presence of his batchmates. He’d never say it, but he’d follow Wolffe into an active volcano if it meant spending a little bit of time with him where they didn't have to worry about being shot at or blown up. The softest parts of Ghoul had already been stripped away; the only bits of care he had left existed outside his own body, in the forms of Wolffe and Fox.

He didn’t say no, or complain, just asked what time and then bullied his way onto the nearest planetside transport. 79s had stayed the same, for the most part. The decor saw a few more additional neon lights, but the layout of the bar was still the same—a small comfort, really. The only real thing that had changed since the last time he stepped foot inside was the bartender.

He wanted to dislike her. Civilians, with their soft hands and the carefree way they went about their lives, ignorant to everything that didn’t affect them directly. He had been able to ignore the stares other clones gave him as he had walked in—he was used to the way they looked, knowing the whispers that followed him wherever he went. He would have worn his helmet all the way up to the bar if not for the policy plastered all over the doors— ‘No Helmets, Face Coverings, or Masks! Area Under Surveillance!’—but Wolffe had elbowed him right in his chestplate and would have wrestled it off of him regardless. He could handle it though, it was nothing he didn’t have to deal with back on Kamino.

But then the way she stared at him…he wanted to crawl over the bar and throttle her. Stupid Twi’lek should have stuck to serving drinks and minding her business. He could see it in her eyes, the shock and horror…and then pity. He hated the pity. He didn’t need it, didn’t want it. He wasn’t some broken thing to be sorry for. He didn’t want or need thanks or accolades. He wasn’t doing it for them. 

But civvies didn’t know any better. They had no grasp of the war, safe as they were on Coruscant. They saw the armor and the helmets and they thought the same thing everyone else did, parroted back whatever hot new catchphrase the propaganda channels blasted over the airwaves, thinking they were providing support and rallying the troops. It was annoying.

They were annoying.

She annoyed him, with her cheerful smile and her questions, trying to pry his name out of him when he didn’t feel like giving it. But now she had it…and it wasn’t earned. He didn’t like that. It made him want to march right back out the door before his drink had even made its way to his hands.

“You gonna brood all night or what?” Wolffe said, snapping Ghoul out of his inner thoughts. “Come on…it’s not that bad here, is it?”

“No…no, it’s not,” Ghoul sighed. The Twi’lek bounced back over, a short, sturdy glass in each hand filled damn near to the brim with a crimson liquid that smelled as spicy as it tasted.

“Here you go,” she said, her accent thickening every word. “On the house, as a welcome back gift. You must come by more often, both of you.”

“You’re not gonna get in trouble, giving out free drinks all the time, are you?” Wolffe asked as he picked up his glass and gave it a swirl, so the ice cubes clinked against one another.

“I do not give them out all the time,” the woman said with a smile, “just to the customers I want to see more often!”

She winked, and it made something inside of Ghoul curdle. He didn’t know what it was, whether it was disgust or something else. He just…wished she’d go away and leave them alone. He didn’t bother thanking her, but picked up his drink and took a long, languid sip. The fiery brew only burned where it touched the roof of his mouth; he could feel a residual warmth as it slid down the undamaged parts of his throat, but the taste was all but lost to him, except in memory. It was rich and sensual, heady with its spiced aroma and the way it warmed every crevice of the mouth…from what he remembered, at least. He tried not to watch Wolffe clearly enjoy the drink, envious of the way it was so easy for him to taste. The things they all took for granted….

“Sorry,” Ghoul said after a moment. “I haven’t been out in…a long time. I’m glad you invited me. Really. I don’t want you to think—”

“Hey,” Wolffe interrupted, “you don’t have to apologize to me. I know how you are. I wanted to get you out of the barracks. You spend too much time holed up and isolating yourself, you’re gonna go crazy. Now…you doing okay? And don’t lie.”

Ghoul shrugged.

“Same as usual,” he admitted. “Mission after mission, trying to keep myself alive, trying to make sure more idiot shinies don’t bite it. You know how I feel about the war.”

“Then let’s not talk about the war. How are you doing? Just you.”

Frustrated, Ghoul shrugged again. What was he supposed to say? Downtime between skirmishes was best used for sleep and kit maintenance, scarfing down whatever rations were on hand, and stealing time to himself for a smoke while he tried to remember what nicotine tasted like. He didn’t have hobbies. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t know what it was that Wolffe was looking for.

His brother sighed and took a sip of his drink, looking at the liquid swirling in the glass before looking over at him.

“You been going to therapy?”

“...no.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes.

“Sure,” he said, “we’re all ‘fine’. I know what that means. I’m worried about you, Jenot. I don’t want to see you end up like the others who survive a traumatic mission, just to wind up staring down the wrong end of your own blaster.”

“It’s Ghoul,” he growled, the sound of his chosen name making his heart ache. “I told you, don’t call me that. And I said I’m fine. You think I’m suicidal, just because I had one bad day?”

“It’s more than that and you know it,” Wolffe said, his voice softer. “I know you’re not shy—just talk to someone, see if they can’t lighten the burden you carry.”

“You’re so stupidly paternal,” Ghoul spat, tempering his ire. “Being in command has gone to your head; I’m not part of your ‘wolfpack’. You don’t get to patronize me.”

“I’m not patronizing…I just hate seeing you like this. You’re wound so tight it’s like anything could set you off. I care, damnit. Just…I miss the old you.”

“...and what if I said the old me is dead?”

“Then I’d say you’re lying. Maybe that’s what you want everyone to think, but I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, don’t forget that.”

All the wind in his sails, gone just like that. Ghoul groaned and downed the rest of his drink in two gulps, half hoping if he drank enough in one go he’d feel something, something other than shame when Wolffe gave him that look, the one that said he wasn't buying the bluster. It wasn't an act…to anyone else, this was just how he was. But Wolffe knew, and Wolffe remembered. He held on to the memories of the way they were back when they were fresh off the assembly line and itching for their first battle.

Ghoul grimaced. He didn't like to think that far back; he wasn't like his brother, taking comfort from fond memories and the way things used to be. He'd rather just forget. But to say that out loud would hurt Wolffe…like he was trying to erase something important to him.

"If I promise to talk to someone, will you get off my back?" Ghoul asked, trying to bargain his way out of the painfully awkward conversation. His hackles were raised and he knew it. Wolffe could keep digging for information, but Ghoul would start a bar fight before he started talking about his feelings so openly. Maybe if they had been alone, where no one else could hear them, and maybe if Fox was also there….

"Only as long as it's a promise," Wolffe agreed, smiling again, like the matter was solved. Maybe he just wished it was and was just as eager to drop the subject. 

"Get off of the tables!" shouted the bartender suddenly. 

Ghoul and Wolffe whipped their heads in the direction of the commotion, where a small squad of shinies had all but lost their heads and were wrestling one another on top of one of the large booth tables. Drinks crashed to the ground, glass shattering and skidding across the smooth floor, and the Twi’lek yelled something absolutely profane in her native language—he didn’t even have to understand the words to know she was angry. It didn’t help that the commando resting at the table didn’t bother lifting a finger to stop the ruckus…if anything, he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Well,” Wolffe sighed after watching the table suddenly break, lurching heavily to one side and spilling the wrestling shinies onto the floor where they continued to try and put each other into a superior hold, “looks like someone needs to be the adult. I’m gonna go step in and take care of that mess. You good here?”

“Sure,” Ghoul said, feeling bitter but refusing to show it. He knew Wolffe felt compelled to act because of his rank, but it would have been nice if he would have just…ignored it. Leave them to fight and just…stop trying to be a Commander for a little bit and go back to being his annoying little brother. There was still so much left unsaid…they hadn’t even gotten to talk about anything…substantial. Ghoul wanted to ask if Wolffe had heard from Fox at all, but it was unlikely. 

He watched, jealousy surging through him as his brother stalked over to the table, barking loud enough that nearly every other clone in earshot (which was all of them, considering the way Wolffe’s voice amplified  when he was angered) stood at attention before realizing they weren’t the ones in trouble. The two idiots rolling around on the ground didn’t stop until Wolffe aimed a sharp kick at one of them, and only then did the commando step up, grabbing the shinies by the scruffs of their necks and yanking them to their feet in a tremendous show of strength. Wolffe took a deep breath and started dressing them down in some of the most colorful language Ghoul had ever heard him use, and he knew in that moment that Wolffe was gonna be a while.

There was no use waiting for him.

His drink was empty, the last of the tingling sensation of its burn fading from the roof of his mouth. He didn’t have it in him to order another. The Twi’lek was busy anyway, trying to clean up the spilled drinks before Wolffe ordered her to stop, because he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make his men clean it up for her. He really had changed…maybe not so much that he was unrecognizable…maybe this was just his natural evolution as he progressed through the ranks . Ghoul didn’t know, didn’t want to think about it. Watching his brother turn into a larger cog feeding the war machine of the Republic left a bad taste in his mouth.

He slipped off of his seat and dropped enough credits on the countertop to cover the drinks, then, on second thought, left another few for a tip just in case the bartender was the kind of person who would think less of Wolffe for the company he kept. Snatching up his helmet, Ghoul moved as quickly and quietly toward the door as he could, but thankfully this time all eyes were focused on Wolffe and the troublemakers at the other end of the bar.

At the door, Ghoul paused, looking back at his brother and the way he stood, straight-backed and oozing authority with one hand on his hip and pointing at the floor as he laid out the terms by which he wouldn’t report this infraction to their base commander.

Just beyond Wolffe stood the Twi’lek.

And she was staring again.

At him.

Ghoul tried to swallow, only to remember his mouth didn’t lubricate the same as it used to. The tops of his cheeks warmed with a flush that he immediately hated, because he didn’t know why it was happening. He couldn’t read the expression on her face; it wasn’t revulsion or pity at least, but he didn’t recognize it. Angry, he glared back and made a rude gesture before turning on his heel and storming off, shoving the doors open so fast he nailed a fellow clone in the face. Without stopping to apologize, Ghoul shoved his helmet back down over his head, breathing a small sigh of relief. 

He had known this was a bad idea…but even so…it had been nice to see his brother’s face again.

[therisingdarkness]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP SHSHDHDHSBX

This is so amazing I can't believe you've done, look at the babies *sobs*

My favorite bits of this are definitely Odessa's expression when she sees Ghoul for the first time, and the absolute MENACING aura Ghoul is exuding.

AAAHHHHH ITS SO AMAZING I CAN'T LOOK AWAY!!!

Work in Progress I REALLY wanted to illustrate this little sequence from @therisingdarkness and mine OC project (They write I ramble lol)

you can read the story here. It's OC x OC with two chapters so far and is written magnificently.

[ghoulcandy]

my friend got me into the vampair series u__u

i already put it on twitter lmao 

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

Welp, took me long enough. Battled like two weeks without a reliable internet connection but I can’t be stopped. It’s like 32 pages of smut, so have fun reading and if you’re not supposed to be reading try not to get caught. I’m not the feds. Not your mom. 

Obviously, written for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, who feels like he’s become as much a part of me as Odessa is, so I hope they live a healthy and happy life forever and ever. Good endings only for me XD. I hope those who’ve read enjoy themselves, and I appreciate the love these chapters have gotten. You’re all very nice, and made this a really fun experience. Thank you so much!

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6 (Part 1 of 2)

PART 6 (Part 2 of 2)

She liked the look on his face, the one she kept putting there every time she did something unexpected. Magda had been correct about assuming Ghoul’s inexperience, but Odessa didn’t think she’d so quickly come to adore his innocence the way she currently did. There was a part of her that wanted to tease him, to really test the limits of his patience…but she didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. What he had already allowed her to do was more than she had expected.

But she did love his look of wide-eyed astonishment when he set his eyes on her naked body for the first time. Selfishly she hoped it was the first one he had ever seen, vanity giving rise to ego in a way that made her feel wonderfully sexy and desirable.

She sat back in his lap, shuffling closer until she could feel the heat of his cock against the inside of her thigh and her knees met with the back of the couch, preventing her from pressing as close as she wanted. Ghoul held up his hands, back to not knowing where to touch or what was permissible—endearing, if she hadn’t already given him permission to do as he saw fit. But she didn’t fault him for it. This was new to him…and she wanted him to take things at his own pace just as badly as she wanted to push him down and show him everything he had been missing out on for all of his life.

“Surprised?” she asked, setting her arm around his shoulders and stroking his cheek, turning his head to hers. She kissed him, taking advantage of his slack-jawed expression to slip her tongue into his mouth and test the waters some more, curious about the velvety feel of his prosthetic tongue and the clinical dryness of his lower jaw. 

He didn’t salivate—that had been the first thing she had noticed, but it wasn’t an issue. Kissing him felt like kissing anyone, just different textures and flavors; there was no getting around the taste of silicone and the faint bitterness of metal, but his mouth was every bit as soft as it looked and she had been delighted to find the plate hiding his lower lip had been removable. It made things easier, which was a good thing because she had quickly fallen in love with kissing Ghoul.

He was sweet and gentle, tender in his explorations and the tentative way he kissed back, like he was still trying to understand how his mouth was supposed to move. His inability to feel as she did likely hindered his progress, but Odessa was patient. She didn’t mind that he was a bit clumsy, or missed the mark, or that he didn’t quite know what to do with his tongue. 

“I…I didn’t think about it,” Ghoul gasped as she pulled away from him after nipping his upper lip. “I…you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, getting ahead of whatever nonsense he was about to say. Of course she wanted to. She had made up her mind the moment she had invited him inside, that this was how she wanted her night to end. He only took a little convincing to make it this far and she knew it wouldn’t take much more to get him into her bed. But all in good time—they had the whole night ahead of them, and neither of them had anywhere to be for the next couple days.

Filled with an affection for him that bordered on suffocating, Odessa pushed off of Ghoul's chest and climbed to her feet, stretching a little to alleviate the stiffness that had built up in her knees—and, maybe, just a little bit for show, to watch the way his eyes traveled up and down her body like he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was amusing how open he was in his desire for her when he worked so hard to maintain a mask of indifference toward everyone else. She hoped it was because he felt so at ease with her, that he could finally lower those walls he had erected around himself to keep others out.

Aware of his heated gaze against her backside as she turned to the kitchen, Odessa took her time gathering a clean hand towel and wetting it with warm water, making sure all the excess was squeezed out before returning to Ghoul's lap. This time, he helped her straddle him with an eager touch, immediately and curiously sliding his hands up and over her hips to cup her bottom.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, enthralled as he scooped up handfuls of her flesh and squeezed, making her giggle. "I…I mean it. You're th' most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Flatterer," Odessa whispered as she tilted his chin up, pressing the wet cloth to the spot between his eyes. 

He closed them automatically and held very still as she wiped his face clean of the faded warpaint, until the only apparent discoloration in his skin was due to the scars surrounding his eyes. He really was handsome—she had no thoughts about 'despite the prosthetics' or anything of the sort. He was just attractive in his entirety and she couldn't look at him and imagine him any other way, even though it wouldn't have been difficult; there were thousands of men just like him, wearing the same face, many of them without scars.

But they weren't Ghoul. 

"What're you lookin' at?" he asked, laying his head back against the couch as Odessa trailed the cloth down his chest, wiping away all evidence of his earlier release before it became tacky and dry.

"I am just thinking how amazing it is," she said, "that out of the many thousands of clones they are making…there is none like you. Not a single one who could come close to being what you are."

A shadow passed over Ghoul's face and he glanced aside.

"Maybe that's a good thing," he said, shivering as the now cool cloth passed over his stomach.

"If only because I am having you all to myself," Odessa said, kissing his forehead. "You are so hard on yourself. Why?"

She dropped the cloth and reached between her legs for his cock, rolling his foreskin up over the head in light movements that quickly had him groaning again. She could listen to him forever, she decided. His voice sent shivers down her spine every time he talked in that low, rough, raspy way, and his groans of pleasure were similarly stimulating. She wanted to press her thighs together just listening to him; the heat emanating from her sex was almost unbearable.

"E-Easier," Ghoul stuttered, lifting his head to watch her. He stared for a moment, then, tentatively, touched a few prosthetic fingers to the back of her hand, trailing them up the length of her arm. Her skin broke out in tiny little bumps at the contact; the metal was smooth and warm, not at all cold like she had initially expected, and the 'pads' of each finger were textured in a way that must have aided with his ability to grip things.

"Can I touch you?" Ghoul asked, staring at her in a way that made her feel like she was being stripped bare all over again.

“Of course,” she said breathily, “as much as you want. Please. I want to feel you too.”

Any other man might have just gone for her breasts. She expected that, but Ghoul surprised her yet again, touching one of her lekku with both hands, curiosity written across his face as he teased the end, watching it twitch rapidly beneath his touch, then sliding up until he reached midway, where the nerve endings were abundant and far more sensitive. Odessa moaned, leaning into his gentle grip and closing her eyes as she indulged in the sensation, wondering what it was about him that made him so good at knowing what to do.

“I read up on this,” Ghoul murmured, his voice a raspy mess she had to work hard to decipher. “Halfway up is where, uh, you have to be careful—stores part of the brain?”

“Closer to the head,” Odessa groaned as he gave her lek a small squeeze, just enough to make her whole body twitch; he stroked back down in a silent apology, winding the tip between his fingers. 

“They’re…unique,” he said. “I like the pattern…it’s different from what I’ve seen before…they’re not tattoos?”

“N-No…the clan my father is from—mmm—all had markings like this. It is genetic.”

Odessa tried and failed to maintain her concentration long enough to keep touching Ghoul, but he seemed just as determined to stop her from doing so. He abandoned her lekku and ran both hands up her arms to her shoulders, then down to her breasts. He hesitated again, but touched one with his left hand first, sliding his last two fingers against her supple skin before cupping her gently. Odessa watched, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle a moan when he thumbed her nipple.

“That’s…that’s nice,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “Always, uh…always wondered how that felt.”

Odessa exhaled on a giggle, quickly covering his hand with hers before he could think to pull away. His curiosity was more of a boon than an actual hindrance. The last time she had taken someone to bed they had been almost too rough; she much preferred Ghoul’s reverent exploration.

“Keep doing that,” she said. “They are sensitive too, especially here–” she plucked at her own nipple, warmth flooding her body when Ghoul repeated the gesture on her other breast  “–but if you play with them…it is fun, I admit.”

He snorted, but did as he was told, taking her words to heart and setting both hands to task. He squeezed her breasts like he was testing to see if they were fruit that had ripened, then scissored her nipples between his fingers, watching her face the entire time; Odessa tried to hold back from moaning too openly, but it was difficult when he was so thorough. She had a good feeling that he was storing the results of his experimentation away for later, keeping little notes on her body for his own personal use. She hoped so, at any rate.

"Wish my mouth wasn't so dry," Ghoul muttered, more to himself than for her benefit. "Wouldn't mind…uh, y'know."

His ears burned red and Odessa snickered a bit, cupping the back of his head and bringing him down for a kiss atop his crown. 

"Do it anyway," she encouraged him. "It will only feel good for me."

He looked so sweet, shocked like he never expected her to capitulate to his whims. It made her want to give him anything he wanted, to let him do whatever he pleased to her without complaint. Admittedly, the thought of his mouth on her was…she was slick with the thought of it, and of what else he might do if she told him he could.

Patience, she coached herself.

Ghoul snaked an arm around the small of her back, holding her steady with his other hand on her ribs as he leaned forward, pressing his face between her breasts and inhaling deeply. Odessa chewed on her lip and stroked his head, bracing herself with a hand against his knee and arching her back so she could watch him nuzzle her. 

"Do I smell good?" she asked, curious about the way he lingered against her for a moment, apparently content to just breathe in her scent.

"Yeah," Ghoul mumbled before pressing a hesitant kiss to her clavicle. "You…always do. Kark, that's not weird, is it? I can't help it, you just always smell so—"

"No, I like that," she said, flushing happily. "If you cannot taste, then it is good you can smell."

The look he gave her was nothing short of gutted, and he buried his face into her neck, inhaling again, a deep sniff that made her shiver with how intense and intimate it felt. No one had ever paid such close attention to her before. She wasn't even wearing any particular perfume (those were even more expensive than they had any right to be), and the rain would have washed away all the stink from the bar. It was just her skin, she realized…that's all he thought smelled good.

"Mmm," she moaned through a closed mouth, hugging Ghoul tight around the neck with one arm as he tilted her back just to the point of being uncomfortable. She felt him kiss her shoulder, exhale hotly against the spot, then kiss her again, where the juncture of her jaw met with her throat.

His left hand found her breast, kneading the malleable flesh until he ducked his head to press a kiss to the swell of her chest. Odessa gasped aloud as he kissed his way to her nipple; his tongue, the moment it touched her skin, was obviously different. Like he had said, his mouth was dry and the bit of moisture clinging to the artificial muscle dried in an instant. 

But it was the effort that counted. 

She closed her eyes and moaned as he sealed his lips around her nipple and sucked as she had done to him, silicone and flesh soft and insistent in a way that was pleasurable even if it was a little strange. She felt the hard ridge of his teeth against her skin as he tested her boundaries, but it wasn't painful—if anything it only enhanced the pleasure she felt, knowing he was working hard to be mindful of her comfort.

Ghoul made a noise into her skin, a muffled moan that made her bite her lip until she was sure there'd be a bruise come morning. His hands held her in a vice grip, keeping her in place as he tormented her with teeth and tongue, switching from one breast to the other and pausing only to glance at her face to make sure she was still okay with it. Of course she was; the thought of withdrawing consent when they had already come so far was absurd.

"You are so good," Odessa gasped, grabbing the back of his hand as he pinched her nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers. "So good…you are making me feel so hot, all over."

"Yeah?" Ghoul asked, his voice rough with interest as he pulled off of her nipple to press a kiss to her neck. "You like it?"

"I am liking everything you do to me," she sighed. "But I want more. Can I…show how I am liking to be touched?"

"Kark, yes," Ghoul groaned. "I wanna know everything. I…I meant it. Wanna make you feel good too."

He was so sweet and earnest. 

How could I ever say no to him? she asked herself as she sat up on her knees. Ghoul glanced between them, at the space where her thighs met, and slid his hands over her hips to grasp at her rear. Odessa smiled and touched his head again, petting him until he looked up.

"Give me your hand," she commanded softly, knowing he'd obey without question. Wordlessly he offered her his left, favoring it for the experience of being able to actually feel. 

Then I will make sure he feels everything I do to him.

"You are so obedient," she murmured, cupping his hand in both of hers and kissing the knuckles of his last two fingers. "So good at following orders. You like to be having clear instruction?"

"Yes," Ghoul whispered, the upper half of his face caught in a blush. "You uh…you have me at a disadvantage. I'll take all th' help I can get."

"I will give it to you," Odessa said as she curled his prosthetic fingers toward his palm. She pressed a kiss to the tips of his flesh and bone fingers and then, without warning, slid both of them into her mouth, swiping her tongue over and between them with a faint noise of contentment.

Ghoul sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open as he watched her. It was a good look on him, a wonderfully innocent expression she wanted to be able to remember. He didn't move while she sucked on his fingers, lathering them with as much saliva as she could; she was already wet enough to go without…but a little more never hurt anyone. Besides, she wanted him to feel as much as she could offer him.

"Osik," he said harshly, in a language she didn't recognize. It was a curse, that much was obvious from his tone, and the sound of his voice went straight to her sex.

"What is that?" Odessa asked, pulling off of his fingers with a parting kiss. "That word? It is not Basic."

Ghoul clenched his jaw, the look on his face curiously enigmatic—blank, like he had to work hard to scrub all the emotion from his expression. Immediately, she understood that this was another subject he didn’t want to delve into, not yet. 

“It’s Mando’a,” Ghoul eventually responded. “From the planet Mandalore.”

“It is special to you?” Odessa asked, before sucking his little finger back into her mouth. Ghoul inhaled deeply and nodded without elaboration. 

"One day you will tell me?" she teased, tweaking his nipple playfully.

He hesitated, then nodded like he wasn't exactly sure, just afraid of displeasing her. Odessa pulled his hand between her legs and pressed her cheek against his so she could whisper in his ear.

"Say something else? I am liking the way you sound."

"Fuck. Uhm. Anything?"

"Whatever feels right."

"...uh…yooba solus…mesh'la."

Odessa kissed the ragged edge of his ear and trailed her tongue around the shell, down to suck on his earlobe; she felt him flinch beneath her, and then curl his soaking fingers into the tender flesh of her inner thigh. His hand was so close to where she wanted it to be that she clenched around nothing and gave a needy moan—frustrated, but not with him, never at him.

"What does it mean?" she asked. 

"Means…means you're beautiful," he said. "I…how do I touch you?"

"Like this," Odessa said, easily maneuvering herself to sit sideways in his lap. She spread her legs, giving him a perfect view of her flushed sex, and reclined back in his other arm. She heard him swear softly as she adjusted, sweeping his hand from her knee to the top of her thigh, feeling out her smooth skin. His touch electrified her in the best way, prickling her skin in the wake of his palm and the ghost of his hot breath against her lekku making her shiver as if she were cold, but there was only the heat of his body beneath her, surrounding her on all sides. 

“Watch,” she murmured as she set her two longest fingers against her cunt, rubbing in the way she liked best and slicking up her fingers on her arousal as it practically dripped from her—at this point he could have done anything to her; the smallest touch was going to set her on fire, she knew it, and it would be over before it had even begun. She wished she could say as much to him, but she was so focused on showing him what she liked that the thought slipped her mind.

"This is the most sensitive," she instructed, finding it difficult to talk with the way it felt like her heart was in her throat; she touched herself with two trembling fingers, parting the cleft of her sex to reveal the tiny nub of her clit hidden among her flesh. "This is the best part…but I will like being touched everywhere."

"You'll cum if I touch you there?"

"Yes…but not by itself. It is different for me."

"I'll do anything you tell me," he said, curling his arm around her waist and splaying his prosthetic hand against her hip. "Anything."

"You do not have to worry about—"

"No. I do. I…It wouldn't be fair."

Ghoul slid his hand from the inside of her thigh to her cunt, fingers slipping through the mess her arousal had already made of her. That first touch shocked her, eliciting a gasp that tapered off into a breathy moan as he firmed up his touch, sliding his last two digits through her moist folds repetitively. Odessa flinched, automatically reaching up to hook her hand around the back of his neck. She bit her lip and tried to keep from making so much noise, but it had been some time since the last time she had masturbated…and it was Ghoul. 

How could she resist when he was the one touching her?

"Th–that is good," she said breathily, her belly hitching as he dragged some of her slick up and over her clit, using two fingers (bigger and longer than hers, he made it look so much easier than it felt) to part her folds as he set his middle finger to task.

"Like this?" he asked, his voice husky and rough in her tchara as he traced featherlight circles around the little bud of flesh.

"Yes, ahhhh," Odessa moaned, sinking her nails into the back of his neck as tendrils of pleasure took root in her gut. "A–A little faster, please."

He was so obedient, so good at listening to her instruction, and he was so intuitive—she didn't need to tell him to keep making sure she was lubricated, or else the constant rubbing would become painful; he just knew and dipped his fingers back against her sex, collecting more lubricant. She didn't need to tell him that he could stroke her opening and tease her clit at the same time, he just figured it out on his own. Odessa rocked against his hand, moaning softly, barely able to think straight as he kept figuring things out on his own, letting instinct and desire drive his movements until she felt sick with the heat building in her loins and the pleasure corrupting her thoughts into mush.

"You're so hot," Ghoul murmured, sounding about as strained as she felt. "'S like you're burnin' up. Kark, I'd give anything t' be able to feel you properly."

"Oooohh," Odessa exhaled, arching her back as his fingers slipped against her cunt, dipping past her outer lips in a way that made her want to beg him for more. Her thighs tried to close of their own accord when he pressed against her clit, but he pried them back apart gently, with a chuckle that sent something racing through her, making her lightheaded and weak-kneed. 

"What else?" he asked in a hushed whisper, pressing his nose against her cheek and inhaling her scent again. "Tell me what else."

"D-Deeper," Odessa stammered, "your f-fingers, please. Inside."

"You sure?"

"Please."

Ghoul ducked his head, pressing another kiss to her breast before withdrawing his hand from between her legs—the opposite of what she wanted! Odessa whined in disappointment, but froze when he lifted his hand to his face, sniffing curiously at his fingers. She stared, wide-eyed, as he flexed them, watching the way her slick strung two together with a thin, dropping thread that glistened like a tiny jewel before it snapped. Then, without warning, he stuck those same two fingers into his mouth and briefly sucked on them.

"Can't taste it," he said, frustration drawing his eyebrows together. "But you smell…you smell amazing."

"Frotz," Odessa cursed, her heart hammering like a piston against the inside of her chest. She reached for Ghoul, snaring him behind the neck and pulling him down for a hungry kiss that felt more teeth than lips and though he couldn't taste her, she still could, the lingering scent of skin and sweat clinging to his breath as he gasped into her mouth.

"Salty," Odessa moaned, kissing him again. "Musky, like I have not showered. It cannot be pleasant…but I wish you could taste me too, I–I want you so much, please, Ghoul…please do not stop."

She felt his hand grip the inside of her thigh again, squeezing and kneading his way back to her throbbing cunt—she groaned when he swept his smallest fingers back against her, then cried out when he pressed deeper, testing the give of her flesh until he found her opening.

"There," Odessa said, squirming in his lap, dimly aware of the hard press of his cock against her hip and the way he grunted as she writhed against him. He sunk his fingers deep, down to the last knuckle, scissoring and pressing them against her inner walls until she couldn’t hold back her moans; her neighbors would complain, surely, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the moment, not when he was right where she needed him.

“How’s it feel?” Ghoul asked, fixated on the way her thighs trembled. “Am I doing it right?”

He wanted confirmation so badly, and Odessa didn’t have her wits about her to tell him in elegant words that he was perfect and wonderful and so sweet that she thought she could love him if she wasn’t terrified of frightening him off. The affection she held for him felt like it was bleeding over the edges of herself, like a glass filled with too much drink, and everything he said to her, everything he did was another drop breaking the surface tension until she felt like she was going to overflow.

“Ghoooul,” she moaned, lifting her hips, trying to feel more of him, deeper. “Ooohh, please, I am—ahhh, mmm! I am so close, please!”

“C-Can I—another finger? Can I?” he asked, sounding breathless. Odessa’s eyes were already shut so tight, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she tried to fight back against the feeling inside of her like…like a band tightening. He had driven her so close to the edge of her orgasm she could practically taste it, and she nodded desperately at his request, blindly feeling for his face to pull him back in for another sweltering kiss that he returned earnestly.

She felt him rearrange his hand, adding his prosthetic middle finger to her sopping cunt, stroking her diligently before attempting penetration—two might not not have been enough to bring her to orgasm, but three felt like a severe punch to the gut, stealing the breath from her lungs and making her cry out hoarsely as the added girth stretched her with a pleasant burn that settled into the kind of ache she couldn’t wait to wake up to in the morning. It was perfect, he was perfect, and all she could do was hold onto him, crying out as he pumped his hand against her, scissoring his fingers and mapping her out from the inside.

“P-please, pleasepleaseplease,” Odessa whimpered, “faster, Ghoul, I-I–”

“I gotcha,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to hers and tilting her until she felt the soft cushion of the couch at her back and Ghoul’s weight against her side. He leaned over her, panting heavily as he fucked her on his fingers, the sound of it obscene, squelching, wet and heady as the scent of her arousal permeated the air between them. Pleasure bit and snarled around her bones, setting her nerves on fire from within until she thought she might actually black out—it was almost too much, too much, and yet she didn’t think to tell him to slow down or stop.

Ghoul’s thumb slipped against the hood of her clit again, rubbing tight, frantic little circles against the general area—not quite right but still pleasurable enough that her toes curled with the attention—and she felt his hot breath against her cheek, then her tchara where he pressed a clumsy kiss that made all the heat inside of her coalesce into one bright, blinding ball that slowly exploded, expanding outward as she finally came on his hand, crying out his name in a loud, drawn-out wail.

Her body drew taut as she shook, legs pressed tight around his hand and wrist to stave off the hypersensitivity of too many nerves alight with too much feeling all at once. Odessa moaned again, softer this time as she rode out the waves of her release as it washed over her again, gnawing away at her like a blurrg with a bone. It left her winded and warm all over, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Dimly, she became aware of the way Ghoul stared at her, mesmerized, it seemed, by her reaction. 

Innocent, she thought, lifting a heavy arm to touch the back of her fingers to the arch of his cheek, so he could feel her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head against her hand. “That…that looked intense.”

“I am fine,” Odessa sighed, inhaling deeply. A few stray tremors wracked her frame, but the brunt of her orgasm had already filtered through her; moving felt impossible…but the couch was much too small for them to comfortably lay side by side.

Ghoul swallowed and reluctantly withdrew his hand from between her legs, his wet fingers lingering against her inner thigh and the bend of her knee before he reached between them to take hold of his stiff cock. Odessa inclined her head, watching as he jerked himself indulgently, smearing her slick all over his length with a low groan that rumbled from somewhere deep in his stomach and passed through her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply—she wanted him, again.

“You were so tight ‘round my fingers,” Ghoul murmured, gently pinching his foreskin and drawing it over the head of his member. “So wet. I didn’t know it felt like that. It was…it was so nice.”

“You were wonderful,” Odessa said, kissing his chest, right above his heart. Slyly she trailed her hand over his pecs and down his stomach, squeezing his side before sliding her hand past his to cradle his balls, massaging them methodically until he choked on his next breath. What was left of the skin tight undersuit he wore beneath his armor clung to his hips, the last barrier between them. She sat up and tugged them down around his thighs, then stripped them from his legs to toss them over the arm of her couch and, finally, curled up beside him to nudge apart his knees with one of hers.

“H-hey,” Ghoul stammered as she forced her leg between his and slid her hand against the inside of his meaty thigh, “aren’t you…aren’t you tired?”

“Are you?” Odessa quipped back, aiming a sultry smirk his way, disarming him completely as she squeezed the muscle she found. She liked the feeling of hair on his legs, softer and finer than the trimmed patch around his cock, or the sparse smattering of hair across his chest and belly. She loved touching him, loved feeling the way his breath hitched and his skin jumped beneath her fingers, twitching like he wasn’t expecting it.

“N-no,” Ghoul admitted, the movement of his hand stuttering as she cupped his balls again, passing them by to trail her nails over his groin and up his abdomen, poking his belly button for fun. He flinched and she kissed his chest again, stifling a giggle.

He gave her a bashful look, removing his hand from his cock and stroking his fingers against her lek, tracing the pattern of her stripes. She watched him, affection welling up inside of her until she felt she could drown in it. He was so sweet, so unlike the hardened man she had met months ago, who barely looked at her, didn’t want to talk to her, who spoke to her like she was a nuisance. It had taken time to break through that tough exterior, but what she found underneath must have been the man he was before the terrible event that disfigured him.

It wasn’t fair that he felt the need to tuck himself away beneath layers and layers of indifference and barely restrained anger, but she could understand why he did it. It was the same way her father acted after her mother died. She recognized hurt and saw the power it held over others…she didn’t fault him for trying to protect himself.

“You want to go somewhere more comfortable?” Odessa asked, walking her fingers up his stomach to tap on his chest. “The couch is too small.”

“Uh…yeah,” Ghoul said. “If you’re sure.”

She was more than sure.

“Come with me,” she said, sitting up suddenly and tugging on his arm. Ghoul frowned, but followed her to his feet, where she took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. It was smaller than the room they left and her bed filled most of the space; a small closet with sliding doors took up one wall and she had managed to wedge a very small end table between her bed and the other wall, closest to the window. The window was, perhaps, the best part of her apartment; when she opened the shutters she had a view of Coruscant she liked to imagine most people only dreamed about…even though she knew it couldn’t be all that impressive. 

At night though, and especially that night, with the storm, it was something special. She released Ghoul and pressed the button to activate the shutters, opening them midway to reveal a one way window that spanned the entire length of the wall. The sound of rain intensified as the soundproofing screen pulled back, revealing the storm still in full swing outside. Lights from neon signs blurred into colored splashes through the wall of water, bathing her dark room in soft lights of blues, purples, and greens.

“It is not much,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Ghoul apologetically, “but I am not minding it sometimes, when it is like this.”

“Better than the view we have at the barracks,” Ghoul said, standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed. “I’d rather have this.”

It’s yours, Odessa thought reflexively, but that was a foolish idea, just things she wanted to say because she felt like giving him anything he asked for and everything he deserved. But the idea of him staying with her, even living there…it was the kind of thing she would have liked, if it were possible for him. She shook herself free of fantasies and left the window, sliding her arms around Ghoul’s waist in a hug that he returned, albeit stiffly.

“I want to do something for you,” Odessa said, pressing another kiss to the center of his chest. 

“There’s more?” Ghoul asked, sucking in a sharp breath as she slid both hands over his rear, squeezing playfully. 

“There will always be more,” she teased, before pushing him to sit on her bed. “Scoot back, all the way. Make some room for me.”

She followed after him on her hands and knees, her lekku falling over her shoulders and trailing over his skin as she crawled on top of him, trapping him against her pillows and the headboard with a sweet kiss he tried to return with some grace. His flush was back, sweeping down his neck and over his collarbones as he watched her with a wary eye, not quite sure what she planned on doing; this time, Odessa had no intention of cluing him in. He was smart and would figure it out on his own, eventually.

“You are so good,” she murmured, dipping her head to press a kiss to his throat; she knew he couldn’t feel it, but that didn’t matter to her. It was the gesture and what it meant to her, to show him that she accepted him as he was, prosthetics and all. She heard his breath quicken and the sound of him trying to swallow.

“So gentle,” she continued to praise him, littering more wet kisses against his heated skin, “so curious. I am enjoying watching you discover new things. The look your face has when you feel something new, the way you are touching me…I love it.”

She swirled her tongue around his nipple and plucked at it gently with her teeth; he groaned and she pinched the other, feeling voracious in that moment, like she could just eat him alive and drink up all the wonderful sounds he made. He was just so sensitive, all over it seemed, but she especially loved the way he didn’t shy away from the attention she gave him. He liked having his nipples touched, he didn’t try to stop himself from making noises of appreciation, and he was just so…so beautiful. She didn’t think she had words for it, but she teased him with her mouth and her fingers to draw out more of those sweet noises, reveling in the way his hands found their way to her lekku, touching them slowly.

“Ahhh,” he moaned, “hah, Odie—too much. I–I can’t….”

Another groan tore itself from his throat as she pulled off of him to blow cool air against his spit-damp skin, his nipple puckering from the torment. Taking pity, she continued to kiss her way down Ghoul’s body, trailing her tongue over the dips of his muscled abdomen and scraping her teeth over the jut of his hip. She could feel his erection against her stomach as she slid back on her knees, smearing precum against her skin and twitching needily as she ignored it in favor of pushing his legs a little further apart so that she could comfortably lay between them.

“Oh fuck,” Ghoul swore when she ran her hands up both his thighs, kissing the top of one and the inside of the other. 

“I have thought about this too,” she said warmly, looking up at where he sat propped against her pillow, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Cute, she thought, before taking hold of his cock and licking a fat, wet stripe along the underside from root to tip. The noise Ghoul made was new, strangled, and his hands fisted up in her sheets, pulling them out of the careful tuck she had made them in this morning. Odessa sucked a spot at the base of his cock and then ran her tongue against a prominent vein crawling up its length before kissing the moist head.

“Odie,” Ghoul gasped weakly, “y-you don’t hafta—”

“Shhh. Stop trying to deny yourself things that feel good. Simply relax…let me take care of you. Is that so bad?"

"No," he groaned. “Just…you do that and I’m…kark, I know I’m not gonna last long. You’ll get a mouthful.”

“Then I will swallow,” Odessa shrugged, tugging on him lazily. Ghoul whispered another word in what she guessed was Mando’a, but spread his legs a little more and laid back against the pillows to watch. 

“You’re a menace,” he whispered, shaking his head.

Odessa smirked and sucked the insides of her cheeks, working moisture back in her mouth so she could drag the flat of her tongue along his girth in a smooth movement that made him grunt. She rewarded his honesty with another kiss, then tilted his cock to her plush lips, taking the tip into her mouth.

“Ohhh. Odie…damn."

He tasted good in that way men did, in a way she imagined she would have tasted to him; salt-licked skin, sweat, and the faintest smell of rain clinging to him where his blacks had soaked through. There was something else there, something she guessed was the scent that was uniquely Ghoul, smokey and heady without being overpowering. She wanted to bury her face between his legs and breathe it in, until she could define it. It was his scent, and for the first time she thought she could understand the way it must have felt to bury his nose against her neck and inhale so deeply; she wanted to do the same to him, just so she’d never forget what he smelled like.

Odessa took him deeper, swallowing past the head and fisting what couldn't fit in her mouth. He was girthy—thick—but not unwieldy. She had known from first sight he was going to feel amazing once inside of her…and she was glad she had been right. Ghoul groaned gutturally as she took him further, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard; she snuck her arm beneath his thigh when he shifted restlessly, pulling it against her shoulder and touching him aimlessly, her hand wandering up his hip and over his stomach for pleasure's sake. 

"Kri–kriffing hells," he moaned, lifting his hips jarringly, instinctively trying to thrust. "That's a sight. Kark, you feel so good, ahh!"

Odessa hummed idly, swallowing him down until she felt the tip of his cock brush against the back of her throat. She stayed there, breathing through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down, closing her eyes and focusing on the feel of him resting heavily against her tongue. She felt his left hand take up her lek, rolling the very tip between his fingers and sending little shockwaves of pleasure through her; she clenched her thighs together, thinking back to how it felt to be stretched around three of his fingers.

Stealing glances at him when he least expected it was quickly becoming a little habit she enjoyed—like now, when she cast her gaze up at him with her mouth full of his cock and saw the way he stared at her, wincing through a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation, chewing on his bottom lip though he couldn’t feel it and how he refused to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds, like he didn’t want to miss out on watching her.

He was gorgeous. 

Odessa pulled off of him with a wet gasp, slathering his length with her tongue and dropping messy kisses to the soft skin connecting his groin to his thigh. She wanted to ruin him for all others, wanted to fuck him so thoroughly he’d never think of anyone else, no matter where his path took him. Selfishly, she wanted him all to herself. He was special. He belonged to her, and she wasn’t willing to let him go so easily after it had taken so long for her to realize how badly she had been wanting him like this.

“I love your taste,” Odessa said huskily. “You are the perfect size, nice and thick. I cannot wait to be having you inside of me.”

"You just say things," Ghoul groaned, "fuck, y' don't know what it does t' me…."

He shuddered, the muscles in his stomach fluttering beneath her fingers in response to her whispered promise of things to come. He had to know—even if he was completely inexperienced he had to know, at the very least, where this all was headed. He bucked against her mouth again when she pressed her lips back to his cockhead, pressing the tip of her tongue against his slit in a tease. His aborted thrust forced him back into her mouth unexpectedly; she almost choked, but greedily took control again and swallowed him back down with a content moan, closing her eyes and gripping him as tight as she dared. 

“Uuunnhh,” Ghoul moaned, arching his back and digging his foot into her mattress to give himself more leverage. She tried to push his hips back down but he was so much stronger than her; she could barely move him and the knowledge did little to quell the ache of arousal that had crept back into her loins. She wondered if, another time, he would be open to holding her down and fucking her hard and deep, or carrying her easily in his arms to press against a wall—she shuddered with each thought, crossing her feet at the ankle and clenching her thighs together for the sweet friction that came with the act. She could already feel the slip of arousal trickling down her sex. Kark, he made her so wet.

“Odie,” he gasped when she withdrew again to lave her tongue against his balls, nudging them before sucking a portion of his sac into her mouth. “Fffuuuuhhck. Odie, I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum. Uggh, don’t stop, don’t stopdon'tstopdon��tstop—”

She didn’t stop, not once, not until he started to stiffen up and his balls contracted; she kept pumping him even as she took him back into her mouth, suckling him sweetly, waiting for that moment when he released; the first spurt of cum hit the roof of her mouth violently, followed by more just the same and Ghoul’s deep, drawn-out groan that pierced through the veil of rain pattering against her window and even the distant rumble of thunder. He rolled his hips up into her face and his hand found the top of her head, resting between the bulge of her lekku as he pressed down the tiniest amount. Another thrill shot through her when she thought about how easily he could mush her face and take what he wanted—he wasn’t the type of man, she felt, but it was an attractive mental image all the same.

She swallowed easily, sucking him through it until his moans turned to whimpers and the hand on her head began to push her away rather than hold her close. She pulled off of him a final time, wiping her lips with the back of a finger, and stared as his cock continued to pulsate, twitching deeply against his stomach as though still caught in the throes of orgasm. Ghoul himself lay collapsed against her pillows with his flesh arm thrown over his eyes, mouth open and chest heaving as he panted for air.

“How was it?” Odessa asked, sitting up and running her hands back over his thighs; the muscle jumped beneath her palms and Ghoul let out a little nervous laugh before dragging his arm just over his forehead so he could look at her.

“I’m…I’m s’posed t’ answer that?” he asked incredulously. “I can’t…it was…it was better than I–I coulda imagined. It felt so good. Nothin’ like it. Ever.”

His speechlessness was adorable. Odessa threw her lekku over her shoulders and crawled back over him to kiss him softly, sweetly, pressing her tongue past his lips to tangle against his. He was getting better at meeting her, mimicking the way she moved her mouth against his and answering her demands with the press of his own tongue. It was good…but she still wanted more.

“You’re amazing,” Ghoul sighed when she pulled back to straddle him, sitting against his stomach with her hands on his chest, kneading the thick muscle of his pecs. “I…is it weird to say thank you? I…I feel like I should.”

“It is not weird,” Odessa said, smoothing over his shoulders and picking up his left arm to reexamine his tattoos. “But do not be thanking me yet. We are not done.”

Ghoul let out a shaky breath and touched her knee with prosthetic fingers, trailing them up her thigh to squeeze her hip.

“I dunno if I’m gonna last much longer,” he croaked. “That took…that took th’ wind outta me.”

“You’re still hard,” Odessa observed, after glancing behind her. She reached back and gave his erection a squeeze as if to test it, causing Ghoul to hiss.

“It’s sensitive,” he complained. “Hurts.”

“We can stop. If you are in pain, we do not have to–”

“No. No, I can…I can handle it, just…just gimme a minute.”

Odessa smiled down at him, cupping his cheek and running her thumb against his upper lip. 

“Take all the time you are needing,” she said. “I am not going anywhere.”

~~~

He had underestimated her. 

In the beginning Odessa was ‘just’ the bartender, and then somewhere along the line Ghoul had begun to consider her more like an actual friend, someone he didn’t mind talking to, someone whom he liked because she didn’t try to judge him or pry too deeply into things that were none of her business. She was polite, somewhat bold, but pleasant and understanding—constants he could rely on whenever he visited 79’s.

But now…now he felt like she had flipped the script on him, trapping him between her thighs and the mattress of her bed, looming over him like someone he didn’t recognize. She was…Odessa was hot, he realized, sexy in a way that didn’t even come close to what he remembered from Rollo’s (and how the memory of her dancing had been completely obliterated by the sight of her naked and squirming in his lap, wet on his fingers as she clenched down on him, crying and holding onto his neck like there was nothing she wanted more than for him to stick his entire arm inside of her and take hold of her heart from within).

Ghoul ran his hands up her thighs from where she sat astride him, marveling at her beauty and wondering, not for the first time, how he had managed to luck out like this. Her vibrant skin, cast almost blue in the neon glow from the lights outside, felt softer than anything he had ever touched before and he cursed his hands, that only one of them was functional, and only half-functional at that. He wished he could feel her.

“I like the way you touch me," she said warmly, smiling down at him with half-lidded eyes, totally unaware of his inner turmoil. He thought she must be tired…but she hadn't complained once, just…just kept pushing him along, further and further like this had been her plan from the beginning.

Realization struck; Ghoul gripped her waist, trying to pull her down but she resisted, her hands planted firmly on his chest.

"Were you…tryin' t' get me in your bed all along?" he asked. "Even when we left 79's?"

Odessa grinned, showing her teeth. He had never noticed before, but she had the slightest gap between her front two. It was…it was cute.

"Yes," she said, triumphantly, like she was pleased he had figured it out. "I had hoped. Not expected, but wanted—badly—for this. It was my intention…but if you had said no—"

"I'm glad I didn't," he said emphatically, an emotion he didn't recognize pooling in his gut. For the first time that night…he was starting to believe her when she said she wanted him, not because he looked like a freak and because it would be an experience, not because she felt sorry for him, and not because he was so obviously lonely and touch-starved that he deserved a pity-fuck…but because she openly and honestly desired him. 

He still didn't understand why…but he was beginning to think…maybe it was okay if…if he didn't have to understand. Maybe that was part of what made her wonderful.

And she was wonderful. 

Ghoul squeezed the tops of her thighs, memorizing the shape of her so he'd know her even in the dark. He liked the gentle flare of her hips and the curve of her sides, and especially her soft breasts—she had been right, they were fun to touch. He liked the look of them in his hands, how perfectly they fit in the mold of his palm, how he could splay his fingers wide and almost encompass one. He liked her nipples, a shade of green slightly darker than her skin, and he liked the way she moaned when he touched her. It made up for the way she had held him on edge, teasing him with her tongue and teeth until his own nipples felt raw from her attention.

But he didn't mind. He couldn't even think to complain. Complaining would be unthinkably rude. She could flay the rest of his damaged nerves open and pull them like strings, puppeteering him whichever direction she wanted him to follow and he'd go willingly…so long as she didnt stop looking at him like he meant more to her than just another regular at the bar.

"I like that about you," Odessa said, curling over him to press her lips against his forehead. His skin tingled where she kissed him and he sheepishly wondered if it would be stupid of him to ask her if she could keep doing that. He…he liked the touching, he liked touching her, he loved what she did to him when she handled his cock…but the kisses…the kisses made him weak. He wanted to melt into her arms while she took him apart with every tender touch of her mouth against his war torn flesh.

"Like what?" he asked, shaking himself out of his musings. 

"Your determination," she murmured against his skin. Her breasts pressed against his chest, distracting him; it was hard to think past the way her nipples brushed his skin and the immediate way his cock twitched eagerly, like he hadn't already cum twice.

"You're th'…th' first girl who's ever touched  me," Ghoul said, inhaling sharply when she ground against his stomach—fuck she was wet, he could feel her slick on his abs and it was torture, it was a special kind of hell that he didn't know how to initiate whatever was supposed to happen next. 

Inside her, he thought. 

That's all he knew.

"I know," Odessa was saying as she held her hand firmly against his jaw and kissed her way to his ear. His hearing aid crackled as thunder rippled through the air, but if he turned it down he wouldn't be able to hear the way her voice dropped an octave when she whispered in his ear, her breath hot and fuzzy and making his heart leap up into his throat.

"But if you are wanting to stop, or take break, we can. I would not force you to keep going. I want to be with you so much…but I can wait."

"I–I don't wanna stop," he reiterated. "I'm fine, really."

"Promise you will tell me if that changes," she said, resting against him. Her lekku slipped over her shoulders, their weight comforting against his chest. He touched her back, trailing his fingers up her spine until he caught her shiver in response.

“I promise,” he whispered.

Odessa kissed him and it felt like a reward, tender and lush and all things beautiful; his entire body sighed in relief and he swept both hands from her shoulders down to her hips and ass, fondling her leisurely. Kissing her, with the way she kept slipping her hot little tongue into his mouth, allowed him to suck a bit of moisture into his cheeks. It didn’t hold for very long, but it made things easier and ‘felt’ more natural—as near as he could tell at least. He just knew kissing was nicer when he had worked up a bit of spit. And she didn’t seem to mind either, just…just kept touching him through it all.

Ghoul groaned and shifted beneath her, flattening himself further against her bed and distantly recognizing how soft and comfortable her mattress was, how good everything smelled—like her, he thought—from the sheets to the pillows and everything in between. It was nothing like the barracks, with thin mattresses that felt no better than sleeping on the ground, threadbare blankets that never kept them warm enough, and flat pillows that woke them up with cricks in their necks more often than not. 

He almost felt guilty for enjoying it so much, like he didn’t have any right to any of this while the rest of his brothers were forced to suffer. But then Odessa touched him again, breaking free of their kiss to stick her arm between them, questing fingers brushing against his cock, and suddenly he couldn’t be bothered to think about anything else. There was just her and the way she looked at him, like he was everything, like she wanted nothing and no one else.

"Still sore?" she asked, gently rolling his foreskin up and down his frenulum. 

"Uh-huh," he groaned, gritting his teeth at the slight pain that accompanied the pleasure.

Odessa shuffled back on her knees until she hovered over him, her sex so close to his skin he could feel the heat from it radiating outward.

Inside her, he thought again, gathering his elbows beneath him to prop himself up. 

He shouldn’t have looked—fuck, it was so hot, the way she played him, her slim fingers dancing on the end of his cock, her green thighs spread over his hips, soft and rounded and so smooth. A phantom sensation cropped up in his lower jaw, like his mouth was watering just looking at her; if anyone was capable of inspiring the spontaneous growth of new salivary glands, it’d be her.

“Odie,” Ghoul growled, feeling impatient just watching her jerk his member like that. “C’mon…stop teasin’. I–I can’t take it.”

“Sure you can,” she smirked. “You are a good boy. You can wait a little while longer.”

Good boy.

He shuddered, her words and her voice somehow connected directly to the nerve endings in his cock, making it throb as precum drooled from the tip, more than he ever produced before on his own. Was he supposed to be ashamed by that? It dripped onto his stomach, bridging the gap with a translucent string that thinned and snapped when Odessa held him still, rolling her index finger over his slit and smearing the rest over his head.

“Osik,” he cursed, running out of words with which to express himself. He felt dumb when she did that, when she did anything that left him bereft of expression, except his ability to moan. He couldn’t hold it in, not when she was so adept at making him feel so damn good.

“You are hard as rock,” she observed. She swiped her other finger through the precum on his stomach and immediately stuck it in her mouth, sucking thoughtfully. He watched, feeling like his insides dropped out of him, like he had just been kicked in the gut.

“Bet you could put a hole in my wall.”

“Odessa,” Ghoul warned through grit teeth, “please. I’m ready. You’re killin’ me.”

“I hope not,” she giggled. “I like you too much.”

He quickly tried to think of something slick to say, something that’d make her giggle again because the sound of her laughter was one of the best things he had ever heard, but she didn’t give him another chance as she slowly lowered herself to sit on him, the length of his cock aligned perfectly with her dripping sex.

I’m gonna die, he thought to himself as he dug his fingers into her thighs and threw his head back, hissing at the contact of her hot cunt—almost immediately it was too much, too hot, too wet, and she gave no quarter, immediately grinding against him, coating him in her arousal in a way he hadn’t even considered a possibility. 

It was hot, it was so hot, and she was hot with her breathy little sounds, so soft, and his name on her lips like a prayer. 

“Oohh,” Odessa moaned, “Ghoul, oohhh.”

It went to his head. It went straight to his head and his cock and he gasped, arching beneath her, holding her down by the hips so he could grind up against her. His cock moved through her plush sex as she rode his shaft, her fingers still teasing the head, keeping him from disappearing completely every time she rolled her hips against him. 

“Ugghh,” he groaned, craning his neck to watch the way her finger slipped against the reddened tip. “Kark, Odie, shiiii–hah!”

She did something then, pinched back his foreskin just enough to slide her finger beneath it—he shouted and bucked harshly against her, his hips almost clearing the bed. He didn’t know how she did it, how she knew to touch him like that, like she was intent on finding all the things he liked, everything that made him squirm, everything he had done to himself at least once before and things he hadn’t even thought about—like that—until she tried them for the first time. It was like she knew his body better than he did…and he would’ve given it to her, if she asked.

Anything to feel like this again. 

Anything to feel at all.

“Ahhh,” Odessa cried, “I want you inside me. Please, can—”

“Fuck, yes, finally,” he groaned in response, throwing his dick up against her, holding onto the sweet curve of her hip with one hand now as he gripped the bars of her bedframe behind him with his prosthetic, not trusting himself to maintain enough control to keep from accidentally hurting her.

She sat up again, little frustrated sounds escaping her as she fumbled him, his cock nearly slipping out of her hand as she hurried to angle him toward her sex. Ghoul thrust impatiently, not helping but drunk off the sight of her little hand struggling to contain his girth. She braced herself with a hand against his stomach and bit her lip, closing her eyes as she lowered her hips, this time keeping him pointed straight. Ghoul held his breath, every cell in his body coming to a standstill as he watched her.

Slowly, agonizingly Odessa circled her hips, rolling forward slowly as she pressed the crown of his cock inside of her. The pressure was immediate and immense, nothing like he had felt before, not even when he took to the showers to edge himself and his own grip was so tight as to almost be painful. This wasn’t pain, though.

It was…if there was a life beyond this one, like he had heard from others who were more familiar with different cultures, then maybe it felt like this.

His mouth fell open but no sound came out as his head made it past the ring of muscle at her entrance, only to be swallowed up by the vacuum-like crush of her inner walls sucking him in. His stomach clenched and he curled his fingers against her, the nails of his last two fingers scratching against her skin as he tried and failed to find his voice.

"Frotz!" she cursed, exhaling sharply as she dropped her hand down to grip his shaft near the base. She sunk lower, pausing every inch it seemed, to give herself space to breathe. He needed it too, to devote every last ounce of willpower he had into not immediately blowing his load early. Her wet heat enveloped him like a vice, an all-encompassing pressure that finally squeezed a ragged moan out of his throat.

It felt like forever passed until she released her hold on him to settle, her ass resting against the tops of his thighs and her sex spread wide around the thick base of his cock. Ghoul couldn’t stop looking, light-headed with desire and hand shaking a bit as he tried to scrabble for some sense of self-control before he really made a fool of himself. He swept his hand up her side, tugging the end of her lek and tweaking a stiff nipple, then steadied himself against her ribcage as she rocked her hips.

The movement forced a grunt out of him; he had no words to describe how it felt, but she was bewitching and he could watch her on end for days. She panted, her lips slightly parted and her eyes half-closed, her hands pressed hard against his stomach and chest as she adjusted, making herself more comfortable he guessed. Every movement sent liquid heat seeping into his veins, his blood so hot he felt like he was going to boil to death from the inside. 

“O-Odiiie,” he groaned in complaint when she lifted her hips, coming off of him a scant few inches that felt like a thousand, torment compared to the feeling of being surrounded so intimately by the most perfect warmth he’d ever known.

“H-How does it feel?” she asked in a near whisper, her voice hitching a bit as she lowered herself back down, coming to rest again. 

“I–I can’t,” Ghoul stuttered. “It’s–ffff. ‘S like…’s hot. Good.”

He sounded like an idiot. Shame rose up—she couldn’t possibly think any part of his inexperienced fumbling was attractive, but she laughed sweetly and tilted his chin up with a few fingers to kiss him. Her lekku draped over his chest and shoulders again and he wondered what it would feel like to bury himself beneath them and hug her against his chest. He bet sleep would come easy, if he could just hold her like that and let her scent surround him.

“You are so sweet,” she whispered against his lips, before licking into his mouth. “Let me take care of you this time. You do not need to be doing anything. Lie back and watch, okay?”

As if he had any ability to offer meaningful input on the matter.

How she could pretend to be so composed was a mystery to him, but it worked to his own benefit when she sat up and began rolling her hips against him in slow, undulating movements that worked his cock like it was caught in a sleeve, massaging every inch, her heat seeping into every molecule until he wanted to melt into her. She could do anything to him, he decided, anything at all and he’d just thank her.

He watched the lips of her sex cling to his shaft with every drag of her hips, her arousal causing the skin of her inner thighs to stick to his groin with a tackiness he reveled in. It was slow and tortuous, nothing at all like the frenzied couplings in the pornographic holovids he and every other clone had watched at least once out of sheer curiosity. It was better than he had ever imagined, better than he had dreamed, better even than Wolffe had said it would be the day he had come back from his first week of leave, grinning ear to ear and sporting a dark hickey on his neck.

Wolffe didn’t say it would feel like this, like something right had clicked into place, or that he’d feel so complete. He didn’t say it would feel like…like everything wrong was suddenly made right, that he’d stop caring about all the things that used to piss him off…like nothing else mattered, except this.

Odessa leaned back, her hands on his thighs as she gyrated, working her hips in a circular motion that almost made his vision black out. The base of his cock bulged as she fucked him over, exercising her inner muscles and squeezing him purposefully—she had to be doing it on purpose, there was no way it was an accident. Ghoul groaned, taking hold of her hips with both hands again, forgetting all about his trepidation surrounding his prosthetic.

He loved the way her flesh filled his hands, loved the sight of the indentations his firm hold left on her, pale spots in her skin that filled with color as soon as blood returned to the area. She bounced atop him a little faster, panting harder, sweat making her skin shimmer; the ends of her lekku curled and her nipples stiffened—her breasts jiggled hypnotically with every downward thrust, to the point where he almost couldn’t take his eyes off them. Every part of her paralyzed him and left him unable to do anything other than lie there and take it, groaning his pleasure at her ceiling.

She pulled off of him again and this time he thrust up, chasing after her warmth, wanting to bury himself so deep inside of her he’d never come out; she moaned as he ground up into her, pulling her back down to hold her in place.

“You’re so karkin’ hot,” he managed to growl, kissing frantically along her lek when she leaned over him. “You’re drivin’ me crazy.”

 “Good,” Odessa gasped, digging her nails into his chest, hard, pinching his skin until he knew there’d be marks left over. “It is so hard to–hnn–think. You are so big, so full.”

“Kark, I can’t listen t’ you—shit, I don’t…I dunno if I can—hahh—hold out much longer. You’re so tight!”

He fucked up into her again, thrusting on instinct and going by feel—and it felt right, felt so fucking good to have some control in the situation, where she sat up on her knees and let him move the way his body was begging him to. Ghoul braced both feet against the bed and held onto her waist, thrusting awkwardly until he found a pace that worked—slow at first, easy, long strokes that had her clutching at his arms and moaning his name all over again, clenching down on his cock ‘til it felt like she was trying to rip it off.

“Fuck,” Ghoul cursed, watching her sex spread wide around him as he rocked against her. Her thighs clenched hard on either side of his hips and she stuck her hand between her legs, scissoring her fingers around his cock and spreading her lips enough to show off her clit, engorged with blood, plump and glistening as she spread her arousal over it in rapid, frenzied circles that made her jerk against him. He wanted to touch her so badly, wanted to be the one doing that to her, but he only had so many hands and he couldn’t divide his attention the way he wanted—his next thrust was clumsy, she came down too hard and the clap of their skin almost startled him.

“Oooohh,” Odessa moaned, “do–do that again, please!”

“A–Again?” he asked, before lifting her up, arms straining even though she didn’t weigh that much, and dropping her again while thrusting at the same time. It was much harsher, the sensation more powerful, and the sound they made when coming together made him dizzy with want and need.

“Like that?”

“Yes!”

He could do that. He could do anything she asked of him.

Odessa’s fingers never left her clit as he took charge, thrusting just hard enough that the ache in his groin intensified to an almost uncomfortable degree. Her breasts bounced with every movement, her lekku swaying tantalizingly just out of reach. Her stomach heaved and the wet noise of her fingers rubbing into her sex—shlick, shlick, shlick—embedded itself into his brain.

If he died…if he went back on the field tomorrow and a shell dropped out of orbit and landed directly on his head, blowing him to atoms, he knew he’d die happy, having experienced this…no, having experienced it with her. 

“K-kark,” she whimpered, rubbing herself faster, her fingers pressing down hard, like it wasn’t enough. He could practically feel her frustration—he felt it too, on every thrust, like there was a tension inside of him so close to snapping and the fact that it didn’t was maddening. She clenched down on him and he groaned, his hips stuttering to a halt as he ground them together, trapping her fingers against her clit.

“Close,” he heard her whisper. “So close…please….”

His balls tightened and the band inside him stretched tight, a hole tearing through the thinnest part as she caught his eye, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she rolled her hips against his. It was that look that did it, that intense, almost hungry look that felt like another punch in the gut because he realized it was for him, that everything she was feeling was because of him and though he had never had much of an ego to begin with, even before all that happened to him, a masculine surge of pride came to life inside of him, and the band snapped.

“Fuuuuuuh-ck,” Ghoul groaned as he came, his cock twitching inside of her and his hands gripping her hips hard as he thrust into her again, his balls clapping against her ass with a wet slap. Odessa cried out, arching her back as she ground her clit against the base of his cock, collapsing over his chest and pressing her face against his skin as she let out a muffled noise closer to a scream than anything else. He felt her walls ripple around him, then constrict in pulses as she finished, triggered by his own release. The tighter she felt, the harder it was for him to move and he choked, bucking against her desperately as she clenched down on his cock.

He couldn’t hold back another impassioned groan, dropping his head back against her pillows and sliding his hands around the round of her ass, pulling her closer, as if he could somehow open up his ribcage and swallow her inside of him. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough, even though he was sure there wasn’t a single part of them that wasn’t somehow glued together at that point. He could hear her too, still mewling out her pleasure as they gradually came to a standstill.

His heart felt like it was going to explode with how fast it was beating, like a buzzing in his inner ear that had nothing to do with his hearing aid, something he thought he’d be able to feel if he were without. 

“Kark,” he rasped, mouth suddenly too dry as he tried to find words.

Odessa laughed tiredly, still trembling as she caught hold of herself easier than he could, pressing kisses to the center of his chest.

“Oh, stars,” she sighed. “Ghoul…eswo Ghoul…that was…by the Goddess, that was amazing…you are sure you are not doing this before?”

He panted, finally falling limp, feeling like all his muscles had turned to liquid and were bleeding out of his pores. She shifted and his cock, finally spent, felt like it had been fucked raw; a sweet, tender pain lanced through his groin and he hissed, giving her a slight squeeze.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, feeling choked up for some reason. “Just…stay like that…for a minute. I need…I can’t do it again. I’m…I’m wiped, I–”

“I am not moving,” Odessa said, pressing her cheek to his sweat-damp skin. “We rest now. You did…you are so wonderful, so good. I cannot wait for how sore I am going to be in the morning.”

She propped herself up on her forearms and stretched to kiss him, just a little peck that paled in comparison to previous kisses she had bestowed upon him, but for some reason…for some reason that little moment, that innocent little gesture and her content, sleepy look, with her flushed cheeks and her smile and the way she laid against him…it broke him.

He pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes before the sting of tears hit, but it was too late to stop the way he shuddered, or the strange sound he coughed up. He wasn’t crying. He didn’t cry, not while alone and especially not in front of her.

But his body didn’t care about the shame he felt; he felt tears wet his lashes and drip down the arch of his cheeks. He wasn’t fast enough to wipe them away and she was too close not to notice. The pressure in his throat expanded down to his ribcage and it ached, it ached like it did in the alley, when he couldn’t see anything except Toydaria and his dead and dying brethren around him.

“Fuck!” he said through clenched teeth, frustrated and annoyed with himself for ruining a perfectly good moment. “Fuck, I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t know why I keep…keep doing this, I—”

“Shhh,” Odessa said, cupping his cheek. Her thumb found a tear and wiped it away gently, but another fell in its place and she leaned up, capturing it with the tip of her tongue. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured, kissing right below his eye. “If you need to cry, then cry. No one is stopping you.”

“I don’t know why,” he complained, looking up at her, distressed. “Everything was perfect, I’m just makin’ a mess of—”

“No mess,” she said gently, bringing her forehead to his. “Nothing is ruined. I am not upset, not kicking you out—you are okay. You are safe. Nothing is wrong with a few tears. If there are needing to be more, then that is fine too. I am not judging you for feeling too much.”

For a moment he thought he was going to lose control of his breathing, but her hand came over the top of his head and she pet him, rubbing back and forth until his shuddering—he hadn’t even realized he was shaking, fuck—slowly came to a stop. 

He was gripping her too tight, he realized, but Odessa just watched him, catching his tears with the bend of her finger and flicking them away or wiping them on her pillow. She…she really didn’t care. She was warm all over, she smelled like flowers native to her home planet, and her voice was so sure, so soothing…he didn’t know why he ever bothered resisting the gravitational pull she had on him, from the very beginning. 

“How are you real?” Ghoul asked.

“I do not know how to answer that,” she shrugged. “I am just…me.”

“I don’t know how I found you,” he said, lifting his left hand to touch his fingers to her face. She felt real. Odessa captured his wrist and turned her head to press a kiss to the flesh part of his palm and then laid back against him. His cock slipped out of her and they both groaned, with her finally rolling off to tuck herself against his side with her head on his shoulder and her leg still draped over his stomach.

“Maybe we have found each other,” she said, with a little smile. “Maybe it is the Force…or the Goddess…maybe just good luck? I am not caring so much what had a hand in it…but I like that it happened. You are…very interesting to me.”

“You keep sayin’ that,” Ghoul said, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. I don’t get what’s so ‘interesting’. What do you really mean?”

“Just that. You are interesting, and I want to know you more. It does not have to be more than that for now.”

He supposed she was right. He was too tired to keep trying to get a real answer out of her…maybe it was just a language barrier thing. Her Basic was fine, but…maybe there was a word in Ryl she was trying to translate that just didn’t have an equivalent. He could figure it out for himself, take up those lessons and try to learn as much Ryl as he could, maybe find someone to talk to who would understand what she was trying to say.

Ghoul yawned, exhaustion taking hold of him finally as everything around them fell into a strange stupor. He looked at the digital meter on her nightstand and realized only a couple hours had passed since he walked through the front door. It felt…it felt like a lifetime ago. The rain hadn’t let up at all since they left 79’s and the cool air against his damp skin sent a chill through him. Odessa hummed and sat up, twisting to stretch. 

“You are staying the night,” she said, as if to make that perfectly clear. He didn’t have it in him to argue, but nodded and pulled himself up to sit. Together they yanked back the sheets and crawled beneath, collapsing again almost immediately. Ghoul took hold of Odessa’s arm, tugging until she crawled back against him with a content sigh.

“You are so warm,” she mumbled as he pulled her into his chest. “I could get used to this.”

His heart leapt and he tried to think of something to say to that, but she yawned and wiggled in place, making herself so comfortable and small that he couldn’t bring himself to keep her awake any longer. But…he needed to.

“Odie,” he whispered. 

“Mm?” came her sleepy response.

“Uh…sometimes I…don’t sleep well. I wake up an’...it’s not always easy. It’s…violent, sometimes. I…I don’t wanna scare you.”

“I am not scared of you,” she said with a little snort. “If you wake up, so will I. Do not worry.”

Reluctantly he laid back down, chewing on the inside of his cheek though he couldn’t feel a thing. She said not to worry, but he did. Now that his lust was sated, now that all the desire had bled out of him (though not entirely; if he thought about her too hard he knew he’d want her again) he could think clearly. There were things about him she didn’t understand, things that had happened to him that made it difficult to get a full night’s sleep, or made it seem like he was…dangerous. 

He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t have him around.

But…she said not to worry about it, and she was so warm and her bed was so soft, and he was so, so tired. Despite his misgivings, his eyelids felt heavy, like there was a string attached to them and someone kept pulling on it. He yawned, his chest expanding, and finally allowed his eyes to close. The sound of the rain striking the window was a little soothing, he supposed, and the weight of Odessa on his arm felt…really nice.

Don’t worry about it, he told himself. It’s a problem for the morning.

~~~

Hours later, the rain finally stopped, but the storm hovered above the city like black doom. Lightning flashed in the clouds, arcing through the sky to make contact with long, metal rods mounted to the top of every building taller than twenty meters.

Odessa stirred slightly, cozy and tingling all over. Distant thunder rumbled, followed by a much louder booming that rattled the window and dug into her bones, pulling her out of sleep. She hummed to herself, stretching her legs a bit; almost immediately she felt a tender ache between her thighs, followed by a slow warmth that spread through her entire body.

Oh yeah.

Beside her, Ghoul slept on, flat on his back with his other arm hanging off the bed and his legs tangled up in the sheets he had managed to pull off the both of them. She hadn’t even felt him moving. With a little tsk, she tried to pull the corner of her topsheet out from under him—he jerked, and thunder shook the air again.

With a shout, Ghoul shot up, scrambling until his back hit the bars of her bed frame; even in the dark Odessa could see how wide his eyes were and how he looked around wildly, gasping and chest heaving—she almost froze, almost let the sudden shock of his waking disarm her completely.

“Wh-where am I?” he shouted, his voice loud, grating—terrifying.

“Safe,” she hurried to say, crawling over the mattress to place her hand on his knee. He jerked away from her, the look on his face both angry and frightened, and she quickly changed direction, sliding off the edge of the bed to hit the button for her window and then turning on the small lamp sitting on her nightstand. A warm glow filled the room and as the shutters unfolded to their closed position, the sounds from outside slowly abated. Odessa sat back down on the edge of the bed, watching Ghoul as he squinted against the sudden light, shaking his head a bit.

“You are safe,” she repeated softly. “You are in bed, with me, on Coruscant. You are spending the night, remember? It is still raining outside…there is a really bad storm passing through.”

Ghoul’s expression shifted almost immediately, like someone had pressed ‘reset’; all the aggression drained out of him and he hung his head, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“Damnit,” he hissed. “Fuck. I…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I knew this would happen. I…I’m so sorry Odie. I–I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and crawling across the bed again. This time, when she placed her hand on his knee he only flinched. “You were just confused…it is a new place and it was dark. I am sure the thunder is not helping.”

He looked up at her, his face…he looked like a kicked tooka, like he wasn’t entirely sure if she wasn’t about to change her mind and kick him out of her apartment. It was a ridiculous notion, but she had a feeling he couldn’t help it.

“How about we leave the little light on,” she said, nodding toward the lamp. “I can lower the brightness and you will be able to see if you wake up again. Shutters are closed, and the soundproofing will keep the worst of the thunder from reaching you.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the aforementioned things and drew a long breath, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“I don’t think I’m worth all th’ trouble,” he said.

“You do not think much of yourself at all,” she pointed out, “but that does not mean I think of you the same way. You are no trouble to me…you are not a nuisance. I still want you here.”

He was quiet for a long time after that, staring at her like he was trying to peel her apart and get a good look at what was going on inside her head. Odessa stared back, refusing to back down. She could see why others would be on edge around him; he didn’t blink and the silvery glint of his prosthetic eyes was…unnerving.

But not to her.

“Do you want to try again?” she asked, tilting her head. “I am still tired…and I know you must be too.”

Ghoul stared some more, but then lowered his gaze with a short nod as he gave up. Odessa breathed a sigh of relief and took hold of the sheets, giving them a good shake to straighten them back out before slipping back under. She reached over to tap on the lamp, lowering the brightness to a low glow that still left them with plenty of light by which to see, and then rolled onto her side, wriggling as she found her sweet spot.

The mattress dipped as she felt Ghoul settle behind her, his body heat a familiar thing by now as he scooted closer. She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t feel so embarrassed that he couldn’t cuddle close like he was before, but she felt his hand creep under her arm, the metal so smooth as he spread his touch over her ribs and under her breast and she smiled to herself, knowing she had won out over whatever plagued him.

He pulled her against him, his chest firm against her back and his breath hot against her lekku; to her surprise he lifted one carefully, pulling it over his shoulder to rest comfortably. Then, his lips pressed against the back of her neck in a painfully tender kiss that made her stomach flutter.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, stroking her belly with the tips of his fingers. “You’ve…shown me more grace than I’m used to. Feels rude t’ just…take it.”

“Nonsense,” Odessa sighed, enjoying the feeling of his touch trailing over her skin. “It is easy to be kind. I want you to be happy.”

“...wish I knew why.”

“Because I like you. I want good things for you.”

“...I like you too.”

Her breath caught in her chest and held for a moment before releasing; it was the first time he had admitted it that entire evening, and though she would’ve been a little hurt if he hadn’t felt the same way, she hadn’t expected him to say anything. 

But he did and she couldn’t help the way she felt, filled with hope that…that this might not be a one-time thing.

“Ghoul—” 

“Jenot,” he interrupted.

Odessa paused, the word foreign to her.

“What?”

Ghoul shifted, squeezing her tight.

“Jenot,” he said again. “It’s…it’s my name.”

“Your…your name is Jenot?” she asked, confused.

“Yeah…uh…it’s what I chose back…back before. When I left Kamino. Ghoul is what…what th’ others called me, after I got put back t’gether. I don’t mind it, either, if you’d rather call me that. But my name is Jenot.”

“Jenot,” Odessa said, trying it out. “Jenot, Jenot.”

“Like I said, if it’s weird, you can—”

“Jenot,” she said, addressing him. “I like it. It is a beautiful name. I am so happy you are trusting it to me…thank you.”

She heard him inhale sharply behind her and the arm around her waist tightened just a bit more.

“No,” he choked out, “thank you.”

He kissed her lek and ducked his head against the back of hers, holding her firmly. This time, she didn’t try to turn around and look at him, nor did she comment when she felt something warm and wet drip onto her skin. She just lay there, idly stroking his arm and letting him take his time experiencing whatever emotion had taken hold. It was his right…and she thought it was…kind of beautiful that she was there to take part in it.

“Jenot,” she eventually sighed, feeling sleep take her as her eyes began to close again. “Such a nice name…I cannot wait…to meet you in the morning….”

His hand fumbled for hers, metal lacing between flesh and bone as he intertwined their fingers.

“I’ll be here,” he mumbled back.

“Good…I cannot wait.”

[cloned-eyes]

PFFFFFFFF thanks for the tag

be amazed by my incredible titels

Y'all take a one LMAOF

Illustration105

Illustration103

Illustration97

Illustration94

Illustration1

two of them are Ghoul x Odessa smut but I wont tell which ones

Tagging

@wenalena @fives-girlfriend @wreckers-wife @nahoney22 and the fourth i dunno tag yourself

WIP GAME

Tagged by @homie-wan--kenobi for wip game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

[in order of Creation newest-oldest]

You’re No Burden (self indulgent Rex x Reader

Shades of Blue (Rex x Reader soulmate AU)

I’m Screaming (I’m Sorry) (imp! Crosshair x reader, soulmate AU)

Tell me why (O66 never happens AU, Crosshair x Separatist!Mechanic!reader)

Walk By Faith (Imp!Blind!crosshair x medic!reader)

[!!ALL X READERS ARE FEMALE PRESENTING UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED!!]

Tag five people?

@endo-bunny @renon4224 @rinwritesfics @cloned-eyes (I just think their art is neat) @powdered-kneecaps (same as above, you two are amazing and I don’t follow a ton of blogs so I’m out of people)

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

written again for @cloned-eyes and for Ghoul, and for my girl Odessa <3 (this is like 18 pages, I’m sorry)

PART 2

Forty-six rotations since the last time they made planetfall, and sixteen more before they were finally debriefed and allowed to go on leave. It wasn't enough time to truly relax and unwind, but five days was all they could afford. Ghoul didn't question it, but neither did he keep his opinion to himself when asked.

Forty-six days of nearly killing themselves dodging the Separatist fleet, only to be rewarded with a pat on the back and five days of shore leave? The entire Republic could go kark itself, if that was supposed to be considered a fair trade. He wasn't grateful and he wasn't gonna pretend to be. The only thing he was looking forward to was finally replenishing his supply of cygarettes. He had run out so long ago it was a small miracle he hadn't managed to kill anyone in the interim, but most of the clones he served with knew to stay out of his way regardless.

Ghoul tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the transport's docking procedures to terminate, mentally running through the exact path he needed to take to get to the shop that sold his preferred brand of smokes. His craving was bad this time around; everything annoyed him, every little noise and movement drew his attention in a way it normally wouldn't and he knew he shouldn't have smoked them all in the first twenty rotations, but it was difficult when everyone around him was just so…so damn…indoctrinated.

That was the other reason he was looking forward to leave. He didn't have to be around the other clones as much, wouldn't be subjected to their boot-licking fantasies of being the heroes the Republic needed. Ugh.

Better still, he was meeting Fox at 79s. It had taken ages to patch a message through the tight security protocols, but when his brother finally messaged back he sounded cheerful and willing to make plans. Of course it had to be at 79s, because all anyone did was drink; Ghoul wanted to forget too, but nothing tasted the same and he wasn't about to spend credits getting wasted when he could just go to the rec center and beat the slack out of a training dummy for free. Despite its immeasurable and endless wealth, the same Republic that had no issue forking over the credits necessary for the Kaminoans to grow its army balked at the idea of paying said army a decent wage. 

But Ghoul wasn't about to suggest they go anywhere else. Fox was so difficult to make plans with that he would take whatever he could get, so long as it meant seeing his older batchmate again. Wolffe was good company and all, but Fox would know exactly what to say without sounding like he was reading off a script. He had always known how to make Ghoul feel better after a shitty day.

Slightly less shitty, once he had four fresh packs of cygarettes neatly packed into his empty rations pouch on his hip. With a promise to himself to make them last this time, Ghoul hurried to 79s, hoping to beat his brother there and grab a booth in the back where they could talk without being disturbed.

The outside of the bar had received a fresh coat of paint since the last time he had been there; unfortunately, the sign on the door prohibiting helmets remained. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the lettering looked bigger. He almost considered ignoring it…but instinct told him to just obey, for once. Wolffe would probably find out about it anyway and give him an earful. With a beleaguered sigh, Ghoul pulled off his bucket and tucked it under his arm before pushing the doors open. 

A blast of recycled air hit him in the face, immediately cooling the sweat buildup on his forehead. The inside of his nose stung with the first inhale, but it was good to be out of the heat. The sun hadn’t even set yet and the bar was mostly empty. The only other patrons were a few alien species—Rodian, Dug, and Pantoran—and an odd couple of clones stripped of their armor down to the hips. At the bar itself sat a few humans, all three of them red-faced and snickering amongst themselves.

Behind the bar stood the same Twi’lek that had served him and Wolffe during their last visit. Ghoul stiffened, but she wasn’t paying him any attention or even looking his way. 

Good, he thought. Maybe this time she’d mind her business and stay far away from him, except to do her job. Hopefully he’d be able to have more than one drink this time around. Even if he couldn’t taste it, he was looking forward to the social aspect of drinking with his brother.

Ping.

Ghoul ripped his commlink off his belt so fast he almost broke the clip, pressing the receiver and holding it close to his mouth.

“Fox?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.

“Hey, glad I caught you!”

“Kriff, it’s good to hear your voice,” Ghoul said. “I just got to 79s; gonna grab a booth. You want me to order for you?”

“...well now I just feel bad.”

Ghoul froze. Dread prickled the skin at the back of his neck and he tightened his hold on the commlink.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

He could almost hear the way Fox winced over the channel.

“I’m not gonna be able to make it today,” his brother said. “Emergency Senate proceedings, and the Chancellor refused my request for leave.”

“You asked for that time off ages ago!” Ghoul hissed. “Tell him to eat shit!”

“You know I can’t do that. I’m really, really sorry. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

It was a lie. If not a lie, then a promise that was broken on delivery. Ghoul wanted to throw his commlink across the bar and bash his helmet into the ground; the knowledge that he’d receive demerits for damaging military issued equipment kept him from doing just that. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing down the sudden rage that threatened to consume him. It wasn’t Fox’s fault…he couldn’t have known, he only just found out himself. Yeah…if it was up to him, he would have been there.

“You owe me,” Ghoul growled. “Big time.”

“I’ll take you somewhere nice and treat you like royalty. On my honor.”

“You don’t got any.”

Fox laughed, a smooth chuckle that had always made him seem cooler than anyone else Ghoul had ever known.

“Stay and have a drink for me? I hate to think you walked all that way for nothing.”

He didn’t want to. Five steps through the door and the rest of his day was ruined. There was no reason for him to stay, no reason he should sit up at the bar and drink alone. It was so pathetic. But…Fox was asking and lying to him didn’t feel right, even if there was no way he’d know, one way or the other.

“Fine. What’re you drinking?”

“Darkoma.”

“You sure have expensive taste for a guy who’s not paying,” Ghoul grumbled.

“You’ll love it. I’m really sorry about this, but I have to go. Don’t be mad!”

“Too late,” Ghoul snapped, but the line went dead as Fox disconnected. He was alone again, standing in a bar he hated, with only a few credits left to his name. 

Kark, he thought.

He could leave. He could leave and no one would have to know. He had four packs of cygs and he knew how fast he could burn through half a pack in his current mood. If he jogged he could make it back to the rec center before they closed for their mandatory custodial hours. Hells, he could go straight to the barracks and take advantage of everyone being gone and get some alone time in, it’d been kriffing forever since he last touched himself anyways.

Shit.

The bartender had finally taken notice of him. He glared, but she just gave him a little smile and a wave, then pointed toward the seat at the very end of the bar, closest to the wall—the same seat he had taken the last time.

Just a couple drinks, he told himself. No more than two, and you can leave. You’ll have kept your word and you can rub it in Fox’s face the next time you see him.

Ghoul slunk over to the bar, trying not to feel like he had been ordered to the corner seat…even if it was the very one he would have taken of his own free will. He set his helmet down on the countertop a little more harshly than he should have and side-eyed the humans further down the bar. They hadn’t taken notice of him yet, invested as they were in their drinks. A dozen empty shot glasses littered the space in front of them, tiny monuments to their inebriation.

There were several times in his short life where he had felt lower than dirt…this wasn’t one of them, but it came close.

"Ghoul?" 

He looked up.

She was standing in front of him, tilting her head to the side and fingering a menu. She was bright green and he hadn't even noticed her move. Kark. He needed a drink more than he thought.

"Yeah," he groused, forced to speak. 

"I remember," she said, her voice gentle. It made his skin itch. If she thought she was doing him a favor by pretending to be so nice, she had another thing coming. He didn't need special treatment, or to be handled with white gloves. He wasn't fragile.

"You were with the Commander last time," the bartender said, refusing to shut up or take his glowering for the hint it was. "He is not with you today?"

"Obviously," he said, seething a bit. "Get me a Darkoma. And a Catsblood."

Unphased, she nodded, her lekku swaying with the movement. Against his will, he noticed the striped patterning painted down the length of them, a darker green that complimented her skin tone.

"Oryxxian, yes? You like the spicy kind. And warm for both?"

She…she remembered. Ghoul didn't know why it mattered. He tried to tell himself that it didn't, that she was just doing her job, the same as any half-decent bartender would manage. It wasn't anything special. 

But it had been forty-six rotations since last planetfall and sixteen more for debriefing; in all that time she must have seen hundreds, if not thousands of clones pass through 79s. It wasn't possible to remember the details of every single one of them. Maybe names, if Twi'leks brains were as big as rumor had it, but even then there was only so much a person could be expected to hold onto before they started forgetting.

And clones were, as a lot of people liked to say, fairly forgettable.

"Yes," Ghoul heard himself say. 

"Good choice for both," she said. "When the liquors are warm the taste sits more firmly in your mouth, and the aroma is stronger. Have you never had Darkoma before?"

He shook his head, biting back the urge to tell her that he couldn't taste. 

"Darkoma is very rich," she said, smiling properly for the first time since he took notice of her. "A bold flavor, not quite as spiced as the Catsblood, but warm and pleasant. The aroma is almost earthy. You will enjoy it."

"Heeeeey," came a call from down the bar. "Sweetheart, why don't you come back over here an' give us a twirl?"

Ghoul watched the Twi'lek stiffen. She wasn't at all low-key; her lekku twitched nervously and gave her away, even through the tight smile she forced to her face. He knew enough about her species to know that the subtle movements of lekku was a language all its own; he wondered what hers were saying now, as the ends curled upwards and flicked down.

"Forgive me," she said, glancing back at the drunk humans. "I will see to them first, and then get you your drinks."

Ghoul glanced down the counter as she turned on her heel, the bounce missing from her step as she approached the lightweights. They all had the same soft look about them—almost immediately, Ghoul could tell they came from money. His eyes could see what others might miss, from the superfine weave making up the fabric of their clothing to the fractal light caught by their very real and very expensive jeweled rings. 

Matching rings, he realized.

Academy brats.

If it was possible to hate individuals more than he hated the Republic as a whole, graduates from the Academy cornered the market. Blue-blood sons from wealthy families, coasting through life on the wings of nepotism, whispered favors and credits passed into the hands of politicians, accruing badges of honor without having ever set foot on a battlefield. Worthless little scudbuckets who thought themselves so much better than anyone else, who would shit their perfectly pressed breeches if they ever had the misfortune of being caught in a real firefight.

Ghoul watched with muted interest as the bartender began clearing the shot glasses, dropping each one into soapy water with a little plop.

“I am thinking it is time for you three to throw in your towels,” she said, her tone pleasant, but firm. “You have had much to drink this day.”

“There’s always room for more!” the middle one crowed as he swayed in place atop his seat. 

“Yeah, we’re fine! C’mon, give us another round!”

“No,” she said, exuding patience for which Ghoul had to give her credit for. “I am cutting you off for now. Tomorrow is a new day, yes? Come again, and I will feed you drinks until you fall over. But not today.”

“Stop being stingy,” the first idiot spoke up again. He seemed to be the ringleader of the group, his voice obnoxious and nasally but filled with the kind of pomp his family’s money afforded him, like he was expecting to be obeyed. Ghoul felt a sneer curl his upper lip; he didn’t feel obligated to step in or anything, it wasn’t any of his business and it definitely wasn’t his kriffing job…but they were annoying and disturbing what little peace he had.

“It is not stingy,” the bartender said, her voice more firm. “I must ask you all to leave now, please. You have had enough. I will not be serving you more today.”

“Oh yeah? What would your master think?”

She froze, except for her lekku; the ends curled violently, almost thrashing before she reached up and grabbed one to forcibly hold it still. Ghoul stared, the expression on her face by far the most interesting one he had seen her make. She was focused on the three idiots in front of her, all of whom sported the same smug smirk on their faces, like something of extreme wit had just been said.

The Twi’lek didn’t look so impressed. In fact, he’d swear it was anger that she was holding in check.

“I asked you to leave,” she said; there was a tremor in her voice. “You are not welcome here anymore.”

“And what if we said no?” the ringleader said. “You gonna make us? Tailhead?”

That was definitely a slur. Every seasoned clone knew it, or had heard of it from those who had deployed to Ryloth for even one rotation. He remembered watching an officer break up a fistfight between a clone and a male Twi’lek over the use of the word; the clone had come away from it with the bone of his forearm jutting out through his skin and bite marks across his face. Male Twi’leks had sharp teeth and weren’t shy about using them, it seemed. He had simply made note not to use that word, ever.

Ghoul doubted these men had ever set foot on Ryloth, though. Maybe they could have been given the benefit of the doubt, that they heard the word in passing and just didn’t know how derogatory it actually was…but the looks on their faces gave away that they knew exactly what it meant.

“I am giving you one more chance,” the bartender said. “Leave on your own, or be thrown out. I will call the security droid.”

For a moment he wondered if they’d keep at it. The bar was empty and they were drunk enough that no one else was going to stop them. Ghoul didn’t recall there ever being a security bot at 79s, either, so she was likely bluffing. He knew he was too invested; he shouldn’t have cared, should have just minded his own business and waited for his drinks. Hell, he should have just left the second Fox said he wasn’t gonna make it. He still could; she hadn’t poured anything so there’d be nothing to waste.

But if he left and something happened….

It wasn’t his job. He didn’t care. 

She remembered I like it warm. 

So small a thing, it shouldn’t have meant so much to him—It doesn’t, he told himself harshly—but for some reason he couldn't move from his seat. Wolffe wouldn’t even have entertained the idea; in fact, he might’ve already rectified the situation himself had he been there. Ghoul wasn’t Wolffe though—he wasn’t so chivalrous as to stick his neck out for someone he didn’t know. Besides…this kind of behavior came with the territory. She wouldn’t be the first bartender to deal with rowdy customers. She needed to have the spine for this sort of thing.

But he sat, and he watched, and he felt his entire body tensing up in that familiar way it did right before a battle, right before he was forced to spring to action. 

She remembered my name.

~~~

“Leave,” Odessa repeated herself, pointing toward the door. 

The human stared at her, his pale blue eyes glossy with too much drink and his mouth crooked with what he thought was a smile. Her skin crawled and her heartbeat quickened. She hated confrontation, it was really the worst part of her job. She had been so fortunate that, up until now, patrons of 79s knew better than to argue about being cut off. Clones especially were quick to give up trying to wheedle one last little drink out of her, obedient down to the marrow in their bones. Sometimes they had to be dragged away by their brothers, but none had ever dared to speak to her with the disrespect that this human had.

She was close to shaking and hated it. This was the one thing she was no good at, and there were three of them staring her down like she was scum stuck to the bottom of their boots. Odessa held her head high though, tilting her chin up even though it did nothing to make her appear taller.

“Well?” she prompted.

Please leave, please leave, please leave.

“Fine,” the tallest human said, snatching his cap off the counter and shoving it down over his white-blonde hair. “Come on boys. There’s better bars than this dump.”

One by one the men clambered to their feet, stumbling as they gathered their wits about them and headed toward the door. Odessa watched them go until the last one made it out through the door, but not without shooting one last parting glare her way. Though drunk, there was enough real malice in his eyes that it sent a shiver up her spine. She tried not to judge any of the patrons who came by 79s…but in her opinion, there were some people who should stay away from alcohol. At the very least, they shouldn’t let themselves get so drunk.

He left, the door chiming as it shut behind him and allowing Odessa to finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

Finally. 

She looked back down toward the end of the bar with an apologetic smile. 

“I am so sorry you had to see that,” she said, spinning to grab both drinks from the top shelf. “Normally they leave when I cut them off, but I have not seen those men before. Perhaps they are used to softer hearts.”

“...no,” Ghoul said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “They were just idiots.”

“Regardless, I would have preferred it did not happen that way.”

“...you had it handled.”

Odessa smiled as she poured the drinks, careful not to spill a single drop. She overpoured just a little, just because she could. It wouldn’t be missed.

“You know,” she said as she carefully walked the drinks over to Ghoul, “I was not worried. Most men are not so foolish as to act out in public like that. I think it would have been fine.”

He looked up at her and she was so close she could see the details of his eyes, the cybernetic components almost seamlessly fused together, except for thin, silver lines. Curiosity would have had her ask him about what happened, but she choked the desire dead in her chest. She would never be so rude.

“Those weren’t ‘most men’,” Ghoul said, fingering the glass of Darkoma. “They were Republic Academy students. Or graduates. Doesn’t matter, they’re all the same breed of asshole.”

“You sound as if you have experience,” Odessa said, wanting to hear more already. But first…she leaned against the counter and tapped her finger against the surface.

“Smell first,” she encouraged. “It will help prepare your senses. Darkoma is top shelf for a reason.”

She could see defiance in his expression, the way his brows furrowed right in the middle; he was a man not used to taking orders…or at the least, a man who did not like taking orders. But hers was only a suggestion, and a gentle one at that. He did as she said, inhaling deeply of the drink until his eyebrows arched in surprise.

“It’s…different,” he said.

“Different is good!” Odessa laughed. “I love to try new things, especially food and drink. You can learn much from other cultures that way.”

Ghoul lifted a shoulder in a shrug and began to drink steadily from the cup—too steadily. Before she could blink the short glass was empty and he turned it over, placing it upside down with a decisive clink.

“Not bad,” he said. “Not my speed, but not bad.”

“How could you tell? You drank so fast there was no time to enjoy the flavor!”

Almost immediately she knew she had done it again, uttered something insensitive or thoughtless that caused him to retreat in on himself and slam those walls back up around him. It was like a storm cloud passed over him, thunder on his brow and the air between them suddenly electrified with a tension so thick she could have cut it with a vibroblade. 

“So what?” he growled. “I’m paying for it, I’ll drink it how I want.”

“Forgive me,” Odessa said, confused. “I did not mean to offend—”

“Listen,” Ghoul said, snatching the other drink up so fast a little bit sloshed over the rim, “I don’t know what makes you think I want to talk to you. I just came here to get a drink, then I’m leaving. You don’t have to hover, or talk to me, or pay any attention to me at all. Just…go do your job. Pretend I’m not here.”

Ouch.

“I was just…trying to be friendly…,” she said, heart pounding. This was, somehow, worse than the drunk men. At least then she knew she was in the right by making them leave. She had never met someone so…so unwilling to lay down their burden. Almost everyone who entered the bar was happy to talk to her, even if it was just for a little bit. Asking patrons about their day and their lives was part of what made the job fun, and even those who weren’t in the mood for idle chit chat were polite enough to exchange pleasantries.

Ghoul, it seemed, wanted none of it. He glared at her now, and got up from his seat to set both hands on the edge of the bar. He leaned over slowly, until less than half a meter remained between them.

“I’m not your friend,” he hissed.

Odessa swallowed, eyes wide and heart still beating wildly in her chest. She didn’t realize she was pressed against the sink until she felt the dampness collected on the rim soak into her pants. 

“You…do not have to be,” she found herself saying, despite every alarm bell in her head sounding off, hinting that it was a better idea to shut up. “I was only curious.”

“Join the club,” Ghoul snarled. “You wanna know so bad? Ask, so I can tell you where to shove your kriffing ‘curiosity’.”

“Not that,” she said, gesturing to his face. “I am not so rude to ask the invasive questions.”

Was that a flicker of doubt she saw, in his eyes? Were implants even capable of expressing that level of emotion? She did want to ask, but the ghost of her mother would crawl out of the grave and strangle her with her own lekku if she dared to pry into whatever terrible event scarred Ghoul so deeply. His defensiveness made sense now, if all he was expecting from her were the kinds of questions that shouldn’t be asked aloud. She felt bad for him…felt bad for the way he must have been treated, if he thought so lowly of her, a complete stranger.

“What else is there?” Ghoul asked, his voice raspier than before. But he sounded genuinely confused, as though he couldn’t think of any reason why she might want to get to know him as his own person. 

And honestly…Odessa didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know how to explain to him things that he should have already known, things that almost every other clone had embraced wholeheartedly, in rejection of the cold ideals that had been placed into their heads from birth. She didn’t know how to tell him that he was his own person, an amalgamation of experiences and desires and thoughts and memories that made him unique among his brothers. She didn’t know how to explain what she felt, whenever meeting someone for the first time, and watching them open up to her. It was like watching little morning flowers blossom with the rising sun.

Her father called her a romantic daydreamer; her brother just called her a silly little girl…but she couldn’t help who she was. She couldn’t help that she cared. It was the war that had made people forget that they were all a part of the same universe; they shared the stars and the pathways between them and it should have been easy to understand the importance of being kind, especially now…Odessa would never apologize for her beliefs.

But Ghoul asked her what else there could possibly be like he didn’t think there was any part of him worth knowing, and the confusion in his voice was almost enough to break her heart. She did want to know him, more now than anything, if only to prove him wrong, to show him that there was plenty about him that anyone would be proud to know. He wasn’t a walking prosthetic, he wasn’t just his war wounds. He wasn’t just some meat sack filling out scuffed armor.

But…she didn’t know how to get him to see it. Not without upsetting him further. Not without…without knowing how to reach him.

“You do not think much of yourself…do you.”

Before he could answer, the door swung open. Odessa only had to glance over before her heart dropped down to her knees upon recognition of the three men who had left not that long ago. They laughed and shoved one another inside, practically tripping over their own feet; somehow, in the span of less than a standard hour, they had managed to become even more drunk. Their faces were swollen with it, their cheeks and foreheads so red that at first glance it looked as though they were bleeding. 

They had no right to come back, especially now when there was still much to be said. Odessa felt a small fury building inside of her at being interrupted the way that they were, and she shot Ghoul a soft look.

“Stay here,” she said. “I will deal with them…again.”

She stormed out out from behind the bar through the employee gate and right up to the men, incensed when she noticed the way they snickered and straightened up at her approach. They did not look at all sorry to be there, nor did they show any humility; she half-doubted that they even knew where they were.

“The bar is closed,” she said loudly, clapping her hands together a few times to capture their wandering attention. “I have already told you to leave and now you have come back. You want me to call for the authorities?”

“My father is an Admiral,” the tallest man among them sneered. He jabbed his finger into the middle of her forehead and pushed her back, hard. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“You cannot,” she snapped back, swiping at his hand. Even drunk, he was faster than her, taller than her, and he laughed in her face until she could taste the alcohol on his hot breath. Odessa wrinkled her nose and blocked them from moving with her body. 

“You are disturbing my other customers,” she insisted, determined to diffuse the situation like her boss had taught her; though she didn’t necessarily agree with the policies, calling the authorities was supposed to be the last resort. It would have been her first, had she had been sure she wouldn't have gotten in trouble for it.

“Customers?” the man repeated, looking over the top of her head and squinting. “I don’t see anyone worth more than the three of us. What, a few drunk blueskins and some washed-up clones?”

“Do not insult them!” Odessa snapped, raising her voice. She whipped her head over her shoulder and sure enough, the two clones in the corner had taken notice. They  had been nothing but quiet and unassuming, gave her their batch numbers in a dutiful way that told her they had yet to see battle, had yet to earn themselves a nickname or lose their shiny status. They were quiet and polite, just a couple of lightweights who wanted to wind down after a long shift. They didn’t deserve to be spoken about like that.

She dared not look at Ghoul—she did not want to draw their attention to him. She saw now the type of men they really were, when alcohol had plied loose the beliefs they held deep within. They were cruel and judgmental, the kind who thought they were better than everyone else because of their status, their careers, the credits at their disposal. Odessa had no time for men like that, sober or otherwise. What was the saying she heard her boss use? ‘Drunken words are sober thoughts’.

She did not want them to notice Ghoul and turn that cruelty to him—and they would, and they would be merciless. She knew their type now, and was ashamed that she hadn’t seen it sooner. 

“You’re awfully protective,” one of the other men said, his speech slurred. “You like them? You a clone-fucker?”

Odessa swore in her native Ryl, the kinds of words she learned from her father and brother when they thought she wasn’t listening. 

“Get. Out,” she hissed.

“She is a clone-fucker. Bet she’s had them all since we left.”

“Well what can you expect from a Twi’lek?”

“Schutta!”

Odessa’s jaw dropped at the slur casually thrown in her face, spoken in the worst imitation of a Twi’leki accent she had ever heard. It was almost enough to make her see red and forget all about the training she had to go through to even be allowed to stand behind the bar, but if she lost her composure now the surveillance feed would only show her throwing the first punch; no audio meant no proof to back up any claims of verbal harassment. 

They’re just words, she said after forcing herself to take a deep breath. Her lekku were stiff with anger, quivering against her shoulder blades but she refused to let them see that they almost got to her. Just words, just children. Little idiots who do not know what they are saying. They are drunk.

“Ugh, look at that one.”

“I thought they decommissioned the ones that were damaged that bad.”

“What a waste of credits. Should have just thrown it in the incinerator.”

SLAP!

Odessa saw her hand make contact with the tall man’s face before she had even noticed her body moving on its own. Her palm stung with the strength of the blow, having caught the entire breadth of her victim’s cheek. At first thought, she knew she hadn’t meant to do it…but on second thought she realized that she didn’t care.

The man reeled back with a high-pitched yelp, practically falling back onto his friends; she watched, frozen in place as he clutched at his jaw and then tested his lower lip with a few fingers—they came away stained with a bit of blood, and the sight of it seemed to sober them all instantly.

“How dare you!” the man shrieked, shoving one of his friends out of the way. He reached out with a long arm and though she tried to dodge out of reach, his hand curled around the end of her left lek and squeezed. Odessa screamed and almost collapsed from the pain shooting through the supersensitive organ—they weren’t meant to be handled so roughly! Everyone knew better—even if they had never met a Twi’lek face-to-face, people knew and they knew better than to touch, even in anger….

“I’ll have you deported off-planet for that,” the man hissed in her face as he forced her to the bar and pinned her against it. The edge bit painfully into her lower back as she struggled against his other hand gripping her by the arm. He was stronger than he looked and used his height to his advantage. Odessa wished she had paid more attention to the self-defense lessons her brother tried to teach her before she left Ryloth; foolishly she hadn’t believed she’d need them on Coruscant.

“Let me go!” she gasped.

The man sneered, and then, from her peripheral, Odessa watched as a hand reached out and snatched him by the collar of his fancy jacket. One moment he was there, in front of her, and the next his hands had released her and he was bent over, wheezing as Ghoul drove a knee up into the man’s gut. He wretched, immediately spilling the liquid contents of his stomach all over his shiny boots and the floor; half a second later, he slipped in his own mess and fell face first into it.

Odessa barked out a surprised laugh and then covered her mouth, dodging out of the way as one of the other men charged Ghoul, slamming into him from the side. The momentum took them both to the countertop and almost sent Ghoul over it, but he was sober, quick, and a trained veteran. The three punches he threw were so quick Odessa almost thought she miscounted; each one carried a sorry, wet sound, like a mallet smashing against a sack of soggy meat. Ghoul grunted, blocked a pathetic return volley, and then grabbed the man by the back of his neck and, with an impressive display of strength, slammed his head directly against the bartop. Blood spurted from the immediate gash that opened up on the man’s face, some of it getting on Ghoul’s chestplate, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

The third man all but tripped over the first, careening right into Ghoul’s waiting arms; again, with a speed that belied his armored frame, he threw the offender to the side, sending him with a sharp kick to the ass. His head went through the glass display case lining the bottom of the counter, knocking over several very expensive bottles of imported liquor. He did not bother trying to get up again.

By the time Ghoul turned back around, the first man had clambered back to his feet, his face and hair filthy with his own vomit, the front of his once clean shirt stained with sludge-colored bile. His face was ruddy and blood dripped from his lower lip—Odessa felt a surge of pride in her veins, knowing that was her handiwork. 

Ghoul cracked his neck menacingly and beckoned at the man with a hand. 

“Go on,” he snarled, “let’s see who’s ready for the incinerator.”

Odessa ran around the bar, hopping over the gate and watching from a safe distance. She considered hitting the panic button beneath the counter, but something told her to stay her hand, don’t be too hasty. She knew she shouldn’t have, but…but she wanted to see what Ghoul was going to do. 

She didn’t have to wait long.

Even after watching his friends get dispatched in a matter of seconds, the tall man didn’t seem to understand how miserably outclassed he was. He threw a heavy haymaker at Ghoul, but the clone dodged easily, ducking right beneath his wide swing and returning three more quick punches to the man’s ribs. Odessa winced, having seen enough sparring sessions between her brother and his friends to know that he had just broken a few ribs.

But Ghoul didn’t stop there; he dropped to one knee and clasped his hands together, using the dual force of both his arms to drive his elbow into the side of his opponent’s knee. The bone cracked with a sound like cannonfire and he went down with a garbled yell, clutching at the joint while rolling back and forth.

The dramatic display didn’t last long though as Ghoul quickly climbed on top of him, grappling his wrists for a moment before landing another punch.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

Odessa watched in awe. She couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the sight of Ghoul beating the man who had insulted her—insulted them—half to death. Her finger hovered over the silent alarm, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it.

Not yet, she chanted to herself. Not yet, let him take what he wants. Give him what he deserves.

It was more than Ghoul could have given her with words. It was written in the lines and scars of his face, the cold rage he affected as he continued to punch his victim in the face, his right arm little more than a piston as he pulled his elbow back and let loose. Odessa could hear the crunch of cartilage, saw blood begin to fleck against Ghoul’s dark armor. She thought…she thought she had to stop him, before he killed the man…but she also didn’t want to interrupt him.

He was…he was amazing. 

He was amazing…and he was going to kill him.

“Ghoul…GHOUL!” Odessa forced herself to shout.

To her relief, he did stop, but only barely, only after faltering on his last punch and leaning over the man panting, both hands on the floor on either side of his bloodied head. Odessa grabbed a towel and hurried back over just as Ghoul stumbled to his feet. Blood speckled his face and the front of his chestplate; ribbons of it crawled up his vambrace and the armor worn on his knuckles was cracked and soaked through. He breathed heavily through his nose, his chest heaving on every labored inhale.

Odessa approached cautiously, until she was close enough to hold out the clean towel. When he looked at her she shrugged, unsure what to say. ‘Thanks’ seemed so self-serving, and she didn’t think for one second that he had come to her rescue for her sake.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Ghoul snatched the towel from her hands and quickly rubbed it against his face and over the top of his shaved head. Sweat fell down the back of his neck, eaten up by the black sleeve he wore beneath his armor.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, I’m…I’m fine.”

The same could not be said for the man who lay before them. His face was little more than a bloody pulp, like raw meat sold at the open air markets back home on Ryloth. His flesh was already beginning to swell, making it difficult to tell where his eyes were. A gurgling noise emanated from the gash of his mouth, shards of white glistening in the blood, which Odessa realized were the remains of his teeth.

“You need to leave,” she said. “You need to leave now. I will…call the authorities. They will want to make a report. If you leave, I can lie and say it was someone else.”

Ghoul paused in running the towel over his hands.

“You’d lie?” he asked, an incredulous look on his face. “Why?”

“Because they deserved it,” Odessa said. “Men like this…need a good beating. But I will not see you in trouble for it. You did me a favor.”

He looked like he didn’t want to believe her, like he’d be betraying some part of himself if he did. She watched as he glanced back and forth, surveying the damage he had caused. It wasn’t bad but the cleaning bill was going to be high, and she knew her boss would lament every credit spent. 

“What about them?” Ghoul said, gesturing rudely at the idiots strewn across the floor. “You think they’ll let this go?”

“They would not dare,” Odessa said. “What would they say anyway? Admit to being beaten so badly by a single clone? Their pride will not allow it.”

She was confident. She was so confident that she took a chance and stepped over the tall man’s prone form, and gave Ghoul a little push at his back toward the door.

“Go now,” she urged. “I have to call the authorities and medical aid. They do not deserve it, but it will look worse for them when they wake up. Please.”

“But—”

“Hush. You have done more than enough already. Ryma’allesh.”

Another gentle push and Ghoul took a few steps of his own. 

“I don’t—”

“Ghoul,” Odessa said firmly. “You will be under a court martial if you are found out. I do not want you to be decommissioned. Please go.”

That seemed to snap him back into the correct headspace. The next moment he was serious again, wiping down his vambraces to get them as free of blood as possible while Odessa hurried over to the end of the bar to grab his helmet. She had never held one before; it weighed heavily in her hands, warm from the electrical and navigational components, as well as the emergency oxygen supply. He accepted it from her with a grunt of what she assumed to be thanks, and jammed it over his head.

When he looked at her, when she could no longer read his expression and was no longer in fear of it, she offered him a smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know you did not do it for me…but I thank you all the same.”

He tilted his head to the side, then gave a short nod. 

Without another word, he left.

Odessa exhaled shakily and slowly turned around to survey the damage. Thankfully the other patrons, including the shinies, had fled out the rear emergency exit. She didn’t blame the clones at all for leaving—they were soldiers, but brawling was most likely an activity frowned upon by the Republic command. It was better for them that they ran, and she would not hold it against them. Their absence served a second purpose as well; less witnesses for the authorities to talk to.

“Okay…,” Odessa said to herself, “Let me…try and clean this up.”

By ‘clean up’ she meant ‘doctor the scene’ so she could spin a lie the authorities would believe. She knew which computer in the back the feed from the video surveillance saved to and she knew enough about computers that it would be no trouble to corrupt the data and make it look as though a power surge wiped out the motherboard. She had her mother to thank for that.

But first she had to erase every sign that Ghoul had ever been there. It took some doing, but she managed to half-drag, half-kick the tall man’s body across Ghoul’s bloody handprints on the floor. She scuffed her boot against anything that looked like a footprint to wipe away the treadmarks that could be traced back to the standardized military gear provided by the GAR, and then finally ran down to the end of the bar to clear his empty drinks.

But there was only one, the first one he had downed—Darkoma, Odessa remembered, top shelf, Corellian—and the tumbler turned on its rim so that the last few drops slid from the bottom and made the table sticky. The Catsblood remained full, untouched…and between them, a small pile of credits. Odessa counted them quickly—it was just barely enough to cover the Darkoma by itself. No tip this time. 

But…she smiled. 

This was the second time he had paid for a drink she meant to give him on the house.

He will have to come back so I can make it up to him. Eventually.

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

Written for @cloned-eyes and for Ghoul and Odessa. I really took my time here cause I wanted it to be perfect. So heads up, it’s like 41 pages. It gets a little heavy here so proceed with caution. Tagging @lune-de-miel-au-paradis because they asked for it XD

ALSO heads up but next chapter is just gonna be like...smut. Lots and lots of smut. I guess if you wanna be tagged for notifications send me an ask and I’ll hold onto your handle. I don’t have a timeline cause I really wanna take my time with it, but if you wanna be tagged for the last update let me know. Once I’m done this is all gonna be posted on Ao3 as well, and I’ll drop the link eventually.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

I’m late, Odessa thought as she hurried to replace the bottles of liquor in their proper places on the shelves. Rumi bumped into her from behind, pushing her further against the counter she was already leaning over and almost making her drop the Corellian whiskey. Annoyance shot through her, making her lekku twitch erratically. Rumi gave her a strange look, but said nothing. They were all a little on edge with the sudden and unexpected influx of customers, prompting their boss to have them all scheduled to be working at the same time. They were all exhausted, sweaty, sticky from spilled liquor, and tensions were running at an all time high.

She knew it wasn’t the fault of the customers—four separate battalions had returned to Coruscant at the same time, two having secured an unexpected foothold against the Separatist forces that had the news channels buzzing with excitement. Naturally the clones were looking to celebrate and Odessa refused to hold it against them for going off the rails, even if it meant running herself a little ragged; besides, no matter how irritated or tired she was, it was good to see them laughing and smiling and rough-housing around with another. 

The Republic had suffered too many losses over the past several months—a solid win to bolster spirits and morale, for both the common citizen and the soldiers, had been sorely needed. She only wished her boss had had the foresight to schedule her and the other girls in staggered shifts, instead of the rough sixteen-hour stretches that left her feeling like her bones had liquefied. 

“Odie!” one of the new clones called out, trying to carry a tune as he all but sang out her name. “Ooooodiiiieee! I need another round!”

“I am thinking you are about to be cut off,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Cobra, who was absolutely supporting himself on the shoulders of another, less enthusiastic clone. He grinned at her, tried to wink, and ended up just blinking with both eyes instead. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” he said, swaying gently in place. 

“Mmm, I think not. But you deserve to cut loose, so this one time I am looking the other way. How many?”

“Eight shots, Rotgut!”

Odessa wrinkled her nose at his choice but expertly lined up eight small shotglasses and quickly pulled the Rotgut from beneath the bar, pouring a generous amount into each glass so the liquor spilled over the rim. She wasn’t going to be stingy with servings, not this week. Her boss would complain later and she’d be ready to give him an earful about how the boys deserved to indulge, especially since they were still paying for everything.

“Try not to spill all over my floor,” she said as she helped him situate the little glasses between his fingers. She knew very little about Cobra, except that he was one of the bigger clones she had seen come through 79’s, that he was a medic, and that he loved to talk.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he laughed, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers; the glasses clinked against one another, but nothing spilled or slipped out of his grasp. “Steadiest hands in the GAR! You should see me operating in the field!”

“Very impressive,” Odessa agreed, surprised by the way he didn’t shake at all, despite his obvious inebriation.

“Yeah? You should see what else these hands are good for.”

Cobra actually managed a real wink this time, but Odessa shook her head and smiled, unaffected by his charm. Fending off the regulars was easy; they all knew where the boundary lines laid and didn’t make any attempt to push any of the girls outside of their comfort zones. Flirting was just part of the job description, and Odessa knew how the game was played well enough to rake in a generous amount of tips every night. Cobra didn’t know any better, but it was still good fun, even if she didn’t humor him as much as she might have a few months ago.

“Go enjoy,” she said, “and next time ask Rumi for drinks; she is having her eye on you all day.”

“Can you blame her?” Cobra said, his grin only enhanced by the piercings he wore on his lower lip. He tossed his head, the curls of his mohawk flopping into his eyes, before laughing and heading back to his table, where he was greeted by his men with rousing cheers. The clone he had been leaning on, a quiet man with a dour expression, followed after him a little more slowly, the only sober one of the bunch.

I’m late, Odessa thought again as she watched Cobra and his companion get sucked back into the fold of their unit. 

“Magda,” she called out, catching the attention of the older woman working the floor. “I have to take my break—there is a very important call I am to be making. Please, can I go?”

Magda, tall and striking with dark skin and darker eyes, groaned and rubbed her hand up and down her face. She was older than both her and Rumi combined and had worked at 79’s the longest. She had been the one to teach Odessa the art of bartending, how to serve drinks on a tray without the whole thing tipping over, and how to subtly encourage a patron’s philandering without leading him on. She was usually a fun-loving, boisterous woman…but right now she looked as though she wanted to strangle Odessa with her own lekku.

“You’re killin’ me, kiddo,” Magda said. “You see how many clones are in here tonight? I got the whole GAR drinkin’ us out of stock!!”

“I know, and I am so so sorry,” Odessa pressed, “but I really must make this call. It is my father, and if I don’t he will become so worried—I promised I would find time and he hates it when I am unable to keep my promises–-”

“You tell your old man that he better let you live your life,” Magda complained. “You’re an adult, sweetheart, you get to call your own shots. Kark happens and not everything is gonna go accordin’ to plan.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but it is very different on Ryloth. I am expected to keep my word.”

“You’re not on Ryloth anymore.”

Odessa paused, a small, secret part of her whispering that Magda was right, that she shouldn’t have to give in to her father’s whims now that she was so far removed from his watchful eye. She tried to think of the worst thing that could happen if she were to just…keep working, skip break, skip the call she was already supposed to be making, and continue about her day like she didn’t have anyone but herself to care about. The image of her father’s disappointed face rose to the forefront of her mind, the frown lines bracketing his mouth even more pronounced than they usually were. A shudder worked its way up her spine and Odessa shook her head violently.

“Sorry,” she said, with an apologetic smile, “I will make it up to you, I promise!”

Magda looked at her with something close to concern. Despite the warnings she gave on Odessa’s first day about how she wasn’t going to hold anyone’s hand or come to the rescue for every little mistake made, Magda still had a tendency to mother her from time to time; and not just Odessa, but the other girls as well. She was always listening to Rumi complain about her dating life, giving advice where needed, and she had been quick to call a cab for Kri’tak when she was too drunk to make it home on her own. Maybe she couldn’t help herself…but Odessa always knew she could count on Magda to be the teeniest bit lenient.

“How long have you been here?” Magda asked, checking the time on her wristpiece. 

“I think twelve hours,” Odessa said.

“Ugh. I can’t believe he’s keeping you girls this long…okay. Tell you what. You go take break, make your little call and tell Daddy everything is fine, and then I’m gonna have you clean the counter. After that, you go home and get some rest. How’s that sound?”

“But we are so busy!” Odessa said, immediately thinking she must have done something wrong for her to be sent home earlier than she had been staying in previous days.

“Psshh,” Magda scoffed. “I can handle a whole garrison by myself, you think I need backup? Rumi and I’ll hold it down for the night. That brat owes me a favor anyway. Go call your dad and try to eat somethin’, okay? You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“So have you,” Odessa protested weakly as Magda set her hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the back rooms.

“Not another word,” Magda said.

79’s didn’t have a dedicated employee break room, but what it did have was a tiny, cramped office with a desk, a chair, and a beat up holocom that had certainly seen better years. Their boss used the office for crunching numbers whenever he was around, but the girls almost exclusively used it to take their breaks, eat, or even nap. The holocom itself served few purposes, but it could still make long distance transmissions with minimal hiccups and Odessa and the others were permitted to use it as long as they were off the clock. Since she didn’t own one herself, 79’s was one of the few places where she could make a call without having to wait in line or pay.

A heavy box of new tumblers sat on the only chair in the room, and while she waited for the holocom to boot up Odessa tidied up as much as she could so it didn’t look so much like a chaotic mess. Her father would certainly say something, like he had the last few times. First it was about the noise of laughter and shouting that couldn’t be drowned out even by the closed door (but there was a party that time too, and she couldn't have told the boys to be quiet), then it had been about the form fitting pants and low cut top that was part of her bartender’s ‘uniform’ (she had almost begged Rumi to come show off the same outfit, to prove it was, in fact, a uniform), and then it was about the bar itself, how demeaning and degrading it was of her to work in such an environment, where she would be exploited for her pretty looks and ‘exotic’ accent, no doubt. She could almost hear her father’s voice in her head and replay word for word the way he had lectured her each time, as though it was within her power to change things.

Too late, Odessa realized she was shaking. She looked down at her hands, watching the way her fingers trembled as she flexed them. Nothing like Cobra’s, firm and still even with five strong drinks already buzzing through his veins. She bet he was a fantastic field surgeon and all the men in his squad seemed to love him immensely, if the way they had kept hugging on him throughout the night had been any indication.

She wished she had some of that steadfastness now.

The holocom beeped to life, the screen lighting up with its usual dingy blue tint that washed out the entire room. Odessa exhaled forcefully and quickly started up the transmitter, inputting the code her father had sent her to establish the link to Ryloth. 

Just be cordial, she coached herself as she sat down in the chair, readjusting her lekku behind her back, then thinking better of it and pulling them over her shoulders to obscure the blouse she was wearing. The terminal chirped as it made its connection. Odessa swallowed and nervously shifted, hoping that the scanner on her end was also working, though she’d have no way of telling until—

“Odessa?” 

The sudden, harsh sound of her father’s voice made her flinch. 

“Can you see me? Is it working?”

A low hum emanated from the transmitter as it pieced together an image from the data gathered by its CPU; slowly but surely, a miniature copy of her father flickered into view, the reception making him appear a little wavy and slightly out of focus. Though less than half a meter tall, he managed to appear larger than life with his arms crossed over his chest and his long lekku draped over his shoulders. His presence filled the room, until Odessa felt like she was shrinking in on herself to escape his scrutiny. Though the hologram washed out the color of his skin and eyes, she could still feel the heat of his stare and knew that he was silently appraising her.

“Kora,” Odessa said in Ryl, smiling despite her apprehensions. “It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry I was—”

“Late,” he interrupted. “I expected you hours ago. You’re fortunate I was still around to take the call.”

Her smile faltered and she felt a sensation inside of her like the weight of a stone dropping into the pit of her stomach. Trust her father to immediately find something to criticize, despite the fact that it had been two months since they had last spoken.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “We’ve been so busy today, I didn’t think I’d find time. How have you been? I-I miss you. And Firith. Is he around?”

“Your brother is out scouting,” Silais said, inclining his head toward her. “I don’t know when he’s expected back; we’ve been maintaining comm silence for the past few weeks.”

“Oh…is everything alright?”

“There is a war going on.”

She flinched again without meaning to, taking hold of the ends of her lekku and pretending to play with them to quell her nervousness.

He can see you, a little voice said in the back of her mind. You can’t hide from him. He knows you’re on edge.

“I know,” she said, looking down in her lap. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m a child who doesn’t know anything.”

“You’re my child,” her father said with a little huff, “and I shouldn’t have to remind you. You know our transmissions can be tracked by the Separatists. I risk it every time we call.”

“I don’t want to argue,” Odessa said, even as guilt struck at her heart. “Can we just…have a nice conversation? For once? I want to know how you’re doing.”

Silais stared at her for a moment before sighing and dropping one hand to his hip. The other went to the back of his head, scratching at the bulbous junction of his lekku. She knew there was a lot on his shoulders—the worry he carried for her and her brother, the pressure coming down on him from Syndulla, and the stress that came from the war itself and not knowing if their people were going to be able to arm themselves well enough to fight back. Odessa knew it was her duty, as his daughter, to try and keep the peace between them as much as possible. He didn’t need any additional worries…but it wasn’t her fault that he talked to her the way he did.

“I’ve been doing about as well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” Silais eventually said. “There’s not enough to go around and for every supply drop that manages to make it past the Separatist blockade, there’s three more that fail. You remember how things were.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Odessa asked, her heart breaking thinking about her father and brother going without food or sleep. “I can try and pick up more shifts so I can send you credits for—”

“No,” he said sternly, holding up a hand to halt her in the middle of her sentence, “I sent you to Coruscant so you wouldn’t be affected by this. We’ll manage, like we always have.”

“I’d rather be back on Ryloth, with you, than here by myself,” Odessa admitted sullenly, biting her lower lip. “I wish you hadn’t sent me away.”

She almost hadn’t forgiven him for doing so. Barely a month after the violent passing of her mother, she had awoken one morning to find a bag packed and a transport waiting to take her off-world. If it hadn’t been for Firith begging her to go, for her own sake and for his, she would have fought for blood to stay. A part of her had even dared to hope that Silais would finally see reason and permit her to finally learn how to shoot, how to fight and scout so that she’d be of some use to the Rebellion…but she had been naive to think so. If anything, her mother’s death had only hardened his resolve. 

She could still remember how he had dragged her from their home, kicking and screaming, and forced her aboard the ship. He had stood over her and told her it was for her own good, that he wouldn’t lose her too, and that had been the end of it. She couldn’t think of the way Ryloth had looked in the viewport, getting smaller and smaller until they made the jump to hyperspace, without crying. Sometimes she still woke up at night, trembling and frightened, her face soaked with tears. Coruscant was nothing like Ryloth…and she missed home so dearly.

“I did what I had to do,” Silais said with a weary sigh. “I wish I could make you understand how difficult that choice was for me.”

Odessa wanted to snap back that it hadn’t seemed all that hard for him when he had tossed her into one of the transport’s seats and forcibly buckled her in, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to hear about his day and listen to him talk and pretend that he wasn’t thousands of lightyears away. She wanted to tell him about her work and studies and wanted him to tell her that she was doing a good job and that he was proud of her. She wished Firith was there to mediate; he was good at that sort of thing, always able to tell when tensions were running too high and butting in with a joke or a story. Odessa missed him and the way he’d hug her so tight, lifting her off the ground every time. 

“Maybe one day I will,” she said, trying not to make a face about it. “In the meantime you will be happy to hear that I’ve applied for the citizenship test. It’s still months away but I’ve gathered all the material and have been studying.”

“That’s good,” Silais said, and he did in fact look pleased with that news; his lekku twitched in a way that denoted relief, and the creases carved into his forehead from years spent worrying about everything he couldn't control smoothed out. “It’ll afford you better opportunities in the long run. Hopefully you won’t be forced to work at that bar for much longer.”

“I like the bar, actually,” Odessa said with a small smile that meant more to herself than anything else. “I like meeting new people and everyone’s been really nice. It’s a lot easier than I thought it’d be; the hardest part was memorizing the mixed drinks.”

“It’s beneath you,” Silais said with a frown. “A job like that only plays into the stereotypes about our people. Besides…I don’t like you hanging all those men.”

“Kora…they’re mostly clones, I told you. They’re just looking to drink, flirt, and maybe forget about the war for a little bit. They’re perfectly harmless.”

“Yes, harmless—until you wind up pregnant and alone.”

“Kora!”

Silais shrugged. It wasn't that he didn't like clones, or didn't trust them—the opposite, really. Like most Twi'lek he respected the clone army and the sacrifices they made, and had even gone so far as to suggest to Cham Syndulla that they be granted some sort of status on Ryloth once the war ended…but all that altruism bled out of him where his daughter was concerned.

"I'm not saying you'd fall for their charm," Silais said dryly, "but I'm sure others have. I just worry about you, that's all. You're a young woman, alone on a strange planet–"

"And whose fault is that?!"

"–living by yourself and working the kind of job that gets you into…situations. I really wish you'd try and find a roommate or–"

"That's not how the system works. I told you a hundred times: the housing allowance for individuals is based on marital status."

"Hm. Maybe I should have married you off before sending you away."

Odessa rolled her eyes, annoyed at the implication that he could just do as he pleased and she'd go along with it. Silais probably thought he was joking…but as usual, all his 'jokes' fell flat. Maybe he felt like he was trying to lighten the mood…but even his softest moments were ruined by his incessant need to micromanage. Sometimes she wondered if he had really meant to send her all the way across the galaxy, if only because it put her so far away from his ability to oversee every detail of her day-to-day life.

It was a mistake to call, she thought to herself as she pulled a container of dried jogan fruit from her backpack. Encouraging her father's lame attempts at humor was beyond her capabilities at the moment; her skin prickled every time he made a backhanded comment about the clones, too. None of the ones she had met had ever once made her feel like she wouldn't be safe in a room with them. She wasn't so air-headed to believe that they were all noble or anything like that…but she felt like she was a pretty good judge of character.

Besides…it wasn't like she had ever taken one of them back to her apartment.

Except Ghoul, the voice in her head reminded her. Almost Ghoul.

"Is there anything you can share that I can relay to our people at the refugee center?" Odessa asked, shoving that errant thought to the back of her mind and popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. "They're always asking me if I have any information from back home; it'd be nice to be able to tell them something, for a change."

Silais curled his finger against his lips and thought for a moment. 

"Syndulla is hopeful for the future," he said diplomatically. "Ultimately he believes we will be able to take back control of our homeland, and that everyone who has been displaced will be able to return to Ryloth."

"That's really vague," Odessa complained. "You can't say more? Please, Kora?"

"You're shameless," he groaned. "Fine. We recently came into possession of intel that will, in time, turn the tide of the war. Do not ask me for anything else. I've already said enough."

It still wasn't much, but Odessa was satisfied, knowing full well that any word was better than nothing. So many Twi'leks had been forced to flee Ryloth, and not all of them came through Coruscant; those who had looked to her to keep them updated on reports from home, only because of her father's position within the Rebellion. She had made no secret of who she was, feeling it was the very least Silais owed her for what he had done.

"They'll be so happy to hear that," she said. "No matter how long it takes, just to have hope is enough to keep them going."

"It's all we have," Silais said, softening. "Your…mother used to say that hope was the lifeblood of rebellions."

Odessa froze. Her father never brought up the subject of her mother, not on his own, not without heavy prompting. The wound her death had left on him ran deep, changing him from the inside out until he hardly resembled the kind and patient man she remembered from her childhood. For him to even mention her now…it brought an ache to Odessa's heart that stabbed like a knife, sharp and twisting until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"She would know what to say," Odessa said, her voice warped with the effort it took not to cry.

Silais smiled and it was a small, pained smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"She always did."

"Odie!!"

The door to the office bounced open with the force of Rumi throwing her entire body against it, bursting into the room with an exuberant smile and no regard at all for privacy. Odessa scrambled to wipe her eyes and spun around in her seat, mildly horrified that her private conversation had been disturbed so violently.

"I am having a call, Rumi," Odessa hissed, but her coworker just laughed and shook her head so that her tendrils fanned out in every direction.

"Yeah, well your boyfriend just walked through the door and immediately demanded to know where you were, so I had to come tell you."

"'Boyfriend'?" Silais repeated behind Odessa, his tone back to its usual sharpness.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said rapidly over her shoulder. The ends of her lekku curled in obvious happiness though, and she heard her father gasp in horror.

"He is not my boyfriend," she said to Rumi, glaring as the Mikkian giggled behind her hand. "Be minding your own business!"

"He took you out last time he was here," Rumi said, a mischievous grin on her face. "And he doesn't like anyone else, except you. I think it's cute!"

"Who is this man?" Silais demanded to know. "Where did he take you? Is he a clone?"

"Kora! I don't have a boyfriend, Ghoul's just a friend!"

"His name is Ghoul?"

"Anyway, he's probably waiting for you to serve him," Rumi kept on while Odessa just dropped her face into her hands with a groan. "He'll die of thirst if you don't get out there. Come on girl, break time's over!"

“Odessa,” Silais snapped the second Rumi closed the door behind her again, “is what she said true? Are you seeing someone? A clone?”

“She’s exaggerating,” Odessa said, stuffing her snacks back into her bag and scrambling to fix her uniform. “He is only a friend.”

No he’s not, her inner voice whispered.

“Why am I just now hearing about this?”

“Ugh, because it’s my life! I’m allowed to have friends and go places after work!”

Silais threw his hands up in the air and turned in a tight, frustrated circle, staring at her in disbelief as she shook all the contents in her bag to settle them before zipping it back up. Odessa’s heart throbbed in her throat—she couldn’t swallow around it, couldn’t breathe past it. Ghoul was there, and he had asked for her specifically. It wasn’t the first time a regular had requested her attention before, but it was…it was different this time. She had to get back out there, even if his order was the last thing she did before clocking out; no one else was gonna know what he liked without asking.

“I didn’t send you to Coruscant for you to traipse around the city with every soldier who tries to fill your head with their tales of glory,” Silais scolded her. Odessa wasn’t looking at him, but he sounded angry—angry enough that some petty part of her felt glad about it, like it served him right. 

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me here at all,” Odessa said, checking her reflection in the tiny mirror by the door. “I’ve been alone this whole time and I’m tired of it. I’m not going to isolate myself just to make you feel better for abandoning me.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” Silais whispered loudly. “How can you say that? I sent you away to protect you!”

“You weren’t ‘protecting’ me. You were a coward and you didn’t want me to end up like Mother!”

“Odessa, watch your tongue, before–”

“Which never would have happened if you had taught her how to shoot.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. The sharp inhale she heard her father take felt like it sucked all the air out of the room; the humming of the holocom transmitter and the muffled laughter from the bar were the only sounds between them. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to see the expression on his face—the one thing she knew she shouldn’t bring up, the one thing she knew ate at Silais every waking moment of his life…and she had weaponized it.

It had been a mistake to call. She should have left it for another time when she could make use of the free holocoms offered by some of the public service centers. It would have meant less privacy but she would have been far enough away from the bar that there wouldn’t have been any real distractions. Maybe they could have had a nice conversation—maybe Firith would have been back from his scouting mission, and he would have never let things get so…so bad. 

It’s too late, she thought to herself. Nothing can be done about it.

“I have to go back to work,” Odessa said softly. She tried not to think about how pathetic and small her voice sounded. “Give Firith my love. I’ll talk to you later.”

She didn’t hear anything for a moment…then came the sound of the call disconnecting. Somehow the silence Silais left behind was even louder. 

Odessa breathed a sigh of…something. Not relief. There was no solace to be found where her father was concerned, not when…not when their calls ended like that. The last time they had spoken had almost ended similarly, with Odessa being the one to cut the transmission because of the overbearing way he had criticized her choice to work at 79’s (for the hundredth time, it felt like), as opposed to something more ‘reputable’. No matter how many times she tried to tell him that her position at the refugee center was voluntary, it didn’t seem to get through his thick skull. Firith had been there that time and had managed to step in to keep them from going at each other’s throats, but there was only so much he could do.

Just forget about it, she told herself. Go back to work. Finish your shift. Go see Ghoul.

Ghoul.

Just the thought of him was enough to relax some of the tension that had built into her shoulders and ease the headache lancing through her lekku. It had only been fifteen rotations since he had taken her to the shooting range and showed her how to properly fire a blaster. Fifteen rotations since he had escorted her back to her apartment. Fifteen long rotations since she kissed him goodnight and watched him walk away with a giddiness in her chest that hadn’t ever abated. She wished she had thought to ask him for his commlink info before letting him leave; he didn’t seem like the kind of man to send spontaneous messages in the late hours of the night or anything, but Odessa would have liked the ability to just…tell him again how much she had enjoyed being taken out and taught a skill that, while no means perfect, was still more than her own father had done for her.

And…she would have liked to tell him how much she wanted to kiss him again, and more.

Odessa groaned and patted her cheeks, trying to ward off the immediate flush that colored her skin a slightly darker shade of bluish-green. She couldn’t afford to stand around wondering, She wanted to put the disaster of a call with her father behind her. She wanted to see Ghoul again and maybe talk to him before Magda dragged her out of 79’s by her lekku. Plus, it was still early enough in the day that she’d have plenty of time to stop by the refugee center to relay her father’s information to her people. Just the thought of their relieved faces and excited whispers was enough to send adrenaline racing through her veins.

Determined to end her day on a good note, no matter what, Odessa quickly threw her backpack into its corner and hurried back out to the bar, chewing on her lower lip as she scanned the floor—now packed to the brim with patrons—for her favorite clone. Thankfully, Ghoul wasn’t a difficult man to lose in a crowd. In fact, if she didn’t know any better she would have thought he had been waiting to catch her eye, for how quickly he seemed to look up and meet her gaze. He sat at a table in the corner, where he seemed to prefer to take his drinks, and was joined once again by Commander Wolffe. Odessa felt her heart somersault as Ghoul lifted a hand, giving a little half-wave in acknowledgement of seeing her. She smiled brightly, waving back before turning to grab a glass from the clean rack and the half full bottle of Catsblood from its shelf. 

I hope he’s not upset with me, she thought to herself as she carefully overpoured by just a smidge. 

It wasn’t that she actually thought he was, but…the last thing she had done was kiss him and she still didn’t know how he had felt about it. He hadn’t really kissed her back or anything, or made any sort of move or noise to indicate he had enjoyed it…but neither had he shoved her away or made a face or…anything, really. It had been an odd kiss compared to the ones she’d given and received before…but out of all of them she thought she had enjoyed it the most, for how sweetly deserved it had felt to give. Odessa knew if she wanted to assuage any of her fears then she really should have asked for his…oh, but she could ask for it now! 

The idea struck her like a lightning bolt, rendering her lekku stiff with excitement. She almost spun in place before putting the bottle of liquor back on the shelf, and then almost forgot to take the glass with her as she skirted her way through the employee gate and out onto the floor, dodging and weaving her way between clones and civilians alike before finally, finally making it over to where Ghoul sat with his brother.

He watched her approach, staring in that unblinking way of his that sometimes set her on edge. It almost reminded her of the way her father would stare at her when he was trying to subtly inform her that he was displeased, but with Ghoul she only felt like he was…studying her. Like he couldn’t quite put his finger on something that was bothering him. Odessa found she didn’t mind being the subject of his scrutiny, though she wondered what was going on inside his head when he looked at her. Did he…think she was pretty? Was he still thinking about the kiss she had given him too? Was he trying to figure out how to ask her about it? She wished he would, if only because not knowing how he felt about it was eating a hole inside of her.

“It is so good to be seeing you again,” Odessa said warmly as she reached their tableside. She deposited Ghoul’s drink in front of him and nodded politely at Commander Wolffe, who raised his own drink to her in greeting. “Rumi said you had not ordered yet—I hope I did not keep you waiting for very long.”

Ghoul shook his head and curled his hands around his glass, staring down into the drink. He didn’t look any different than he usually did, no new scars or anything obvious; she had to wonder what he had been up to for the past fifteen rotations, if he had been allowed to stay on leave for so long or if there had been another mission in the interim. To her eyes he looked good, well-rested and a little relaxed in a way that made her suspect he hadn’t been forced back on deployment; she could only tell because whenever he wasn’t scowling the little furrow between his brows disappeared, smoothing out his forehead and making him look slightly more approachable.

“Wasn’t long,” Ghoul said, the sound of his raspy voice, which she had come to enjoy the sound of, sending a shiver creeping through her. “Besides, you know what I like.”

“Anyone would know what you like, if you bothered to tell them,” Wolffe spoke up. He kept looking between them curiously, his cybernetic eye in stark contrast with the other, to the point where it seemed there was something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say but was refraining from doing so.

Ghoul shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“The other one’s annoying,” he said sullenly. “Talks too much. Odessa already knows my order.”

“Careful there,” Wolffe said with a smirk, “you’re starting to sound like a regular.”

Odessa tried to keep herself from giggling, but only with monumental effort that didn’t extend to the very tips of her lekku, which convulsed prettily with how warm it made her feel to hear that Ghoul would rather wait to be served by her than bother talking to anyone else. How and when his rudeness had become an endearing trait was a mystery, but she didn’t care; it was nice to know that he felt comfortable enough to ask for her by name.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, addressing Ghoul specifically. “My shift is almost over but if I am not minding staying over just a little bit if you are needing something else.”

“You’re leaving?” Ghoul asked, looking up at her with that wrinkle back between his brows again. “I thought…don’t your shifts normally…uh, last longer?”

“Normally, yes,” Odessa said, “but I have been working since the morning—since it is being so busy lately and there are only so few of us, we have all been scheduled longer hours.”

“Oh…,” Ghoul said, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone. “That’s…too bad.”

“He was looking forward to seeing you,” Wolffe said. Ghoul’s head shot up and Odessa watched him focus a glare so powerful on his brother that she wasn’t sure she’d survive being on the receiving end.

“Shut. Up,” Ghoul hissed, for all the good it did. For as long as she had known Wolffe, she had never known the commander to back down from anyone.

“It was his idea to come down here,” he forged ahead, meeting Ghoul’s glare with a smug look. “He practically dragged me.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“What? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Odessa covered her mouth with her hand to stop the laughter from bubbling forth. The way they acted with each other reminded her so much of herself and Firith, in a good way; the love between them was apparent, and Ghoul’s threat carried no weight behind it. It made her happy to know that he had someone else looking out for him, even if that someone was Commander Wolffe; he was still scary at times, very intimidating before he had his first drink, but even her perception of him had changed since Ghoul started showing up. Wolffe couldn’t possibly maintain his perfect image around his brother, not all the time.

“Well I am glad you came by,” Odessa said before Ghoul could crawl over the table and strangle Wolffe. “I…wanted to thank you again, for the lesson. It was very much fun.”

“Lesson?” Wolffe asked, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “What kind of lesson?”

“It’s nothing,” Ghoul said sharply. “Mind your own damn business.”

“He took me to a shooting range,” Odessa said, happily ignoring Ghoul’s warning signs. “I do not know my way around a blaster, but he showed me how to handle one safely—I even hit the target, though it took me many times. He is very patient.”

“That…doesn’t sound like him at all,” Wolffe laughed. “You sure you got the right guy? We all look alike, y’know.”

“I am positive,” Odessa said, smiling. “Ghoul is one of a kind. I could not be mistaking him for anyone else.”

Wolffe snorted into his drink and Ghoul jerked; a split second later Wolffe yelped, reaching beneath the table to grab at his leg, which Odessa realized Ghoul must have kicked. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, trying not to lose her composure directly in front of them, but this time her efforts failed and she let out a peal of sharp laughter that caught the attention of at least a few more clones. More importantly, it caught Ghoul’s attention. The very tops of his cheeks flushed, the color spreading quickly to his ears before he looked back down at the table.

“Fair enough,” Wolffe said, rubbing his shin. “Ghoul’s one of the best marksmen I’ve ever seen; you couldn’t learn from better.”

“I believe it. Uhm…I am hoping though…”

“Yeah?” Ghoul asked, looking back up, his expression just a little expectant, if she was not mistaken. She didn’t want to be. She wanted to be right, that she was able to read his face just a little better after the time they had spent together. It made her feel like…like that was something she had that very few others did, and that Ghoul allowed it because…because she had earned it.

“I am thinking it would be nice if…if I could be having your comm details,” Odessa said, a little breathlessly. She had to get the words out before she forgot, before she lost her nerve. She still didn’t know if Ghoul had enjoyed the kiss, but if he had come back, and if he had asked for her, then he couldn’t possibly be upset about it, right?

“My…my what?” Ghoul asked.

“Your commlink,” Wolffe said. “You know, the thing you used to wake me up before the sun had risen? Give her your transmission codes.”

Ghoul sat frozen in place, his eyes wide. Odessa watched him blink a couple times before he seemed to shake himself out of his daze long enough to reach for a pouch of his belt. She immediately fumbled for her own commlink, practically dropping it the moment she yanked it out of her back pocket. It was old and beat up, nothing like the sleek, newer models issued by the GAR, but Ghoul held his out for the sync and within just a few seconds she had managed to add him into her database of contacts. Her thumbs felt numb as she typed in the characters for his name—on the silliest whim imaginable, she added an extra symbol to mark him as a favorite.

“Thank you,” she said shyly, pulling one of her lekku over her shoulder and fidgeting with the end. “It will not be trouble if I am messaging you sometimes?”

“I…I don’t think so,” Ghoul said, all the bite gone from his voice as he stared down at his commlink. “I uh, get busy sometimes, though. I…I don’t—”

“That is okay,” Odessa hurried to say. “I just do not want to be a bother. But I like talking to you. It seems a shame I only get to do so when you come in for a drink; now there is no pressure!”

“You’re…not a bother,” Ghoul said, looking uncomfortable.

Her heart swelled and she could scarcely contain her joy, knowing he felt that way about her. It was almost as good as confirmation, in her mind.

“As painfully amusing as this is to watch…Odie, we’re not holding you up, are we?” Wolffe interrupted. 

Oh, yeah.

She looked back at the bar and winced when she caught sight of Magda staring at her, tapping her wrist to simulate the time. She still needed to wipe down the bartop, as promised. Normally it didn’t take much to force her out the door, but today she felt like dragging her feet or coming up with some kind of excuse so she could stay. 

The refugee center, she forcibly reminded herself. You have to tell them the good news.

“You will not leave again without telling me?” she asked Ghoul. He appeared surprised for a moment, then glanced at Wolffe, who shrugged.

“The missions I’m sent on are usually classified,” he said with a frown. “I can’t just tell you where I’m going.”

“Not where,” Odessa said. “Just…when you are leaving. I would just…like to know.”

“Why?”

This time it was Wolffe who kicked Ghoul under the table, except he didn’t try to make a secret out of the fact that he had done so.

“He’ll let you know,” Wolffe said as Ghoul cursed his name. “I’ll make sure to remind him when he gets his orders. Not everything he does requires absolute secrecy. He was on Ryloth for his last assignment.”

“Wolffe!”

“You were?” Odessa gasped. “You should have said so! Is…was it a secret mission? Were you successful? Did you get to meet with Cham Syndulla and the other leaders of the rebellion?”

In her excitement she didn’t really register the way Ghoul glared at Wolffe, or the way that he sighed before running his hand over the top of his head. What she did notice was the way his buzzcut looked fresh, with his hair shorn so close to his head she wondered what it felt like to touch.

“It…was classified,” Ghoul grumbled. “The news will pick it up soon though; they love ruining secrets.”

“It’s for morale’s sake,” Wolffe reminded him. “Sometimes it can be to the advantage to show your hand.”

“It’s premature,” Ghoul snarled. “All that hard work, and for what?”

“Knock it off. You knew this was gonna happen.”

“Excuse me,” Odessa said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, “but is there…is there any way you could be telling me more? About your mission? Or Ryloth? Or anything? I am—it is only that I am going to the refugee center to drop off some documents for some of the new arrivals, and my people are eager for news from home as well. I would love so much to be able to offer them something to alleviate their fears.”

Ghoul seemed to be avoiding her gaze and she knew she should back off, that she didn’t understand the complexity of military operations and that maybe what she was asking was more than he was willing to give…but Odessa had to try. It was possible Ghoul had been part of the intel recovery that her father had mentioned—if that was the case, then who better to ply details out of than the very clone who had probably had a hand in securing the information?

“I…don’t know,” Ghoul said, rubbing the back of his neck now. “If someone heard you repeating details only I would know….”

“Then you should come with me!” Odessa said, immediately angling for another approach. “You could tell them yourself, be answering questions, and maybe getting to meet people whose lives you have helped save! What is that it is called, a winning scenario?”

“A win-win,” Wolffe corrected gently. “And that sounds like a good idea. Ghoul, you could use a pick-me-up. Why don’t you go with her?”

“We just got here,” Ghoul grumbled. 

“Not now,” Odessa said. “Tomorrow? I will be off in the morning and can be meeting you at the center! I will introduce you to everyone!”

“Uh….”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wolffe said, grinning. “I’ll make sure he remembers. Odie, you better get out of here. I think your coworker is having second thoughts about letting you leave.”

Odessa looked over her shoulder a second time and saw Magda waving a cleaning cloth wildly above her head, gesturing at the dirty counters. 

“Yes, sorry,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you so much, this will mean everything to my people. You will love to meet them, I am sure. And they will love to meet you too! I will comm you with the address! Please stay for as long as you want, and enjoy the drinks—Ma'allesh!”

Her steps felt so much lighter as she turned away from them, like she could run laps around the entire floor and work another whole twelve hour shift. How fortuitous, that Ghoul’s last deployment should have taken him to her homeplanet! She tried not to think about how he hadn’t mentioned it earlier, the last time they had seen each other, perhaps…but it didn’t matter now. He had agreed to visit the refugee center and she was certain that whatever tidbits he could reveal would be far more comforting than anything her father could have come up with. She didn’t even feel affected by the guilt that usually lingered within her chest after an unfortunate call from home.

Odessa hurried back to the counter and shrieked with a bit of laughter as Magda whipped her behind with the towel, taking it from her and hurriedly starting at the far end of the bartop, wiping aggressively as patrons dutifully lifted their drinks out of her way.

Tomorrow…tomorrow would be a better day. She was sure of it.

~~~

Two weeks of leave should have meant two weeks spent relaxing—sleeping in, catching up with Fox and Wolffe, replacing his old gear and testing the replacements, or even exploring Coruscant. Any of those options would have been better than what Ghoul was actually made to do, which was write up what felt like a hundred reports, all saying the same thing in different ways, to be passed along the chain of command, up to people he had never heard of, let alone met.

They wouldn't allow him a face-to-face meeting; he had exhausted any and all goodwill he might've once had among the upper echelon of the GAR.

You can't be trusted to not cause a scene, someone had said to him once before, some nameless face he hadn't bothered to pay any attention to. It was a fair assessment—Ghoul had no qualms about opening his mouth and telling the Admirals they were full of kark and their madcap schemes benefited no one outside of lining their own pockets with the credits they saved by being cheap. He'd look a Senator in the eye and tell them to go jump out a window if given the chance.

So, he shut up and spent two weeks writing multiple reports and resisting the urge to defect off to some unnamed planet past the Outer Rim. Two weeks of downtime, absolutely wasted, and all because a handful of idiots couldn’t be bothered to make time to be in the same room together in order to receive a debriefing. There were other things he could have been doing with his time but of all the things he could think of, Ghoul kept coming back to the one person who had managed to capture his attention so thoroughly that he had a hard time considering his other options.

More to the point, Odessa had kissed him…and he still couldn't figure out why.

She had kissed him, stood up on her toes and touched his face with a soft little hand that hadn’t made him flinch, and she had pressed her lips to his ruined face and kissed him like she didn’t mind the prosthetics, didn’t mind the scars—she had kissed him like he was whole and not some broken, patchwork mess of a man made up of spare parts, and he hadn’t known what to do except stand there and take it because…because it must’ve been a mistake…right? Just a…just a cruel joke.

No one could look at him and think he was someone worth kissing.

But…Odessa hadn’t laughed or made fun of him. The kiss itself hadn’t even lasted all that long before she had pulled away to bid him goodnight, but the brief contact had been enough to fill him with warmth all the way down to his toes. He remembered making it down the three flights of stairs and then sitting down on the bottom step because walking had been an impossibility with his head swimming like he had just been run over by a BARC speeder. For ten minutes he had sat there, staring at his boots and wondering if he should go back up and knock on her door so he could ask her what the hell she had meant by that…but in the end he had just returned to the barracks.

Ghoul had snuck off to the showers again, but that time, instead of running the cold water in an attempt to stave off the lust curling shamefully in his gut, he had edged himself painfully under a stream of the hottest water he could stand, imagining Odessa’s hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers like bright points of fire against his skin, and he imagined the way she might have touched him in another life where he wasn’t damaged and could give her the kinds of things he guessed a man might give a woman.

No one had ever touched him like that. 

He had never been kissed before, by anyone.

Before Toydaria…like most of his brothers Ghoul had dreamt about what a normal life would be like, once the war ended, if it ever ended. He had allowed himself the luxury of a dream, just a small one, of someday being able to make his own choices in life, to live out the rest of his days as he saw fit. Maybe those daydreams had included someone else, someone who made him smile, who knew what love was and was only too happy to share it with him. He had been filled with the sort of romantic kark that a lot of clones experienced before their first battle—and like most of them, he had lost any hope of ever experiencing ‘normal’ again.

The war was all there was. 

All he had was himself to rely on. 

Before Odessa it had been easy to focus on himself and his purpose…but now he was left with an ache like an old wound inside of him and the ghostly sensation of hands on his face when he thought he was alone. Ghoul hadn’t told anyone else about the kiss—he knew Wolffe wouldn’t believe him and that Fox would only demand details; besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share with his brothers the memory of how it had felt…he held onto it, turning it over and over in his mind until he had analyzed every detail from every angle. It felt like a puzzle he had to solve, like he’d never be satisfied until he could understand why she had kissed him.

But for the life of him…he just couldn't figure it out.

And somehow it had led him back to 79’s, Wolffe at his side for support and the idea running around his head that if he saw her again, then maybe he’d find the courage to take her aside and ask her about it. Odessa didn’t seem like the kind of person who would lie to his face; he was confident he’d be able to tell even if she tried. Her expressions were so open and unguarded, made worse by the shape of her eyes. He had tried to compare the color of them to different skies he had seen on the multiple planets he had been to, but the memory of each one seemed more faded then the last until he became convinced that Odessa just had…the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

He had been stricken when she had looked at him from across the bar, the first time he had seen her in two weeks since he had taken her to the firing range (two weeks since she kissed him, her lips soft and warm and he had only been able to feel so much with the scarring around his upper lip but he knew he was right), and her smile made him feel like a detonator had gone off inside of him.

Wolffe suspected something was up—he had to because there had never been a point where Ghoul had suggested they go to 79’s on his own; usually he was the one forced to tag along after his brothers, who both acted like there wasn’t any other bar on all of Coruscant. But if he thought something was up, Wolffe didn’t say anything about it and just joined up outside the base, where they walked in relative silence. He was dependable that way, always able to tell when Ghoul wanted to be alone with his thoughts and leaving him to them; the annoying little brother thing was partially an act, one that he put on hold…but only for so long.

Ghoul almost wished he had come alone after all. His mouth had dried up moreso than usual when he saw Odessa and by the time she made it over to their table he could tell that he should’ve just ignored the little voice inside his head that had convinced him it’d be no trouble to just ask her about the kiss. His courage failed him the moment he saw her.

She was just…she was pretty. She was pretty and kind and all the things that he had never been and never could be, and the thought of what she might say if he asked her about the kiss terrified him. It was better not knowing than hearing her admit that she had only done so because she'll pitied him…because it was so obvious he wasn’t getting any from anywhere else, so before he died he may as well know what it was like to kiss someone. A pity-kiss would be the worst-case scenario. He wouldn’t recover from that.

He didn’t want to know how repulsive she actually thought he was, either. Odessa only knew about his facial prosthetics; he was certain that if she could see his arm, or his fingers, she’d regret touching him to begin with. Some days he felt more machine than man…and that was okay for him to think…but if Odessa saw him and thought the same thing he knew he’d just end up ejecting himself out of an airlock. He hated the hold she seemed to have over him. It was the lack of control that had him so tense and on edge all the time. He wanted to hate her for it…but he couldn’t. 

He just couldn’t.

And now he had her commlink number, saved to his device under ‘Odie’ because Wolffe had snatched it from him the moment she had walked away from their table and saved it, starred it, added it to his list of important contacts—a list that, so far, had only ever included Wolffe and Fox—and then tossed the commlink back at him with such force he had nearly missed the catch.

“You’re an idiot if you let her get away,” Wolffe said, as serious as Ghoul had ever seen him. 

“She’s not into me,” he retorted.

“Your eyes malfunctioning?” Wolffe laughed. “You’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to think that. She just asked you for your comm-code. She was blushing. Can you even read lekku?”

“No,” Ghoul said, feeling every bit the idiot Wolffe said he was, “why would I?”

“Because if you did, you’d be able to tell how happy she was to see you. How were you on Ryloth for two whole months and managed not to pick up a bit of the language?”

“I didn’t try.”

“You should. You might learn something. I bet Odie would appreciate the gesture, too.”

“What does it matter?" Ghoul asked. “It’s not like this is going anywhere. I just took her to the firing range. You’re acting like it was a date.”

“Why did you take her?” 

“...because she doesn’t know how to shoot."

“That can’t be it,” Wolffe said, leaning against the edge of the table. “You’re telling me you put a blaster in her hands and made her practice just because she didn’t know how? Come on."

He wanted to insist that it was the only reason, but Wolffe would see right through him. They knew each other too well for a lie to fly under the radar like that, so Ghoul sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She's defenseless," he admitted. "She walks everywhere alone, down to that club and who knows where else, but she doesn't even carry a taser. Coruscant's only safe on the surface levels—down below you know what happens. She could be…trafficked or killed, or…worse."

"You're…worried about her," Wolffe said, surprised. "Huh. I…didn't think you had it in you."

"I'm not a monster," Ghoul mumbled. "She deserves to feel safe, that's all."

"...you know she's an immigrant, right? Legally she can't apply for a blaster license."

Ghoul avoided Wolffe's questioning gaze, instead choosing to take a long sip of his Catsblood, until he felt his eyes begin to water from the burn he felt at the back of his throat.

"Wait," Wolffe said, squinting at him with a suspicious look, "you're not…you're not planning to buy one for her, are you?"

Ghoul shrugged.

"How's anyone gonna know unless she has to use it?" he said.

"Ghoul, if you're found out that's a felony at best. You'll be lucky if all they do is slap you in stasis cuffs."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Wolffe sat back, blinking like something was caught in his eyes. Ghoul had never seen his brother rendered so speechless before, but it was starting to get on his nerves. Why did everyone think he was incapable of common decency? Just because he didn't often show it didn't mean he was completely heartless.

"You must really like her," Wolffe said finally, after taking a moment to gather up his composure. "You've always been a maverick, but not like this. Not for a civvie."

Ghoul looked over at the bar where Odessa had finally finished wiping down the counters. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder and looked like she was thanking the older woman who had shouted at them to find a seat the moment they had walked through the door. He guessed it must have been a trick of the light or something, but he thought he caught her glancing over at them. She looked…happy.

"Maybe," he acquiesced, feeling the fight leave his bones when Odessa smiled at something her coworker said. She had a dimple in her left cheek.

"Kark," Wolffe cursed, finishing off his drink in one big gulp. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, well…don't get your hopes up," Ghoul sneered. "Like I said, it's not going anywhere."

"How come?"

"...are you serious?"

Ghoul gestured angrily at his face, the ugly prosthetic that made up for half of it, the scarring around his cybernetic eyes and the hearing aids he'd be deaf without.

"You think she wants any of this? Look at me—I'm a mess."

"You're not," Wolffe said, "and you need to get that kark outta your head before you sabotage yourself. She likes you. It's painfully obvious. Watching you two awkwardly dance around exchanging comms was the cringiest thing I've ever witnessed, and I've broken in three batches of shinies across five different campaigns."

"She doesn't know me," Ghoul insisted. "She doesn't know what I'm really like. I'd just end up…scaring her away."

"Well, don't do that," Wolffe laughed. "How hard is it to just be decent for once?"

"That's easy for you to say," Ghoul snapped. "You don't look like a failed Techno-Union experiment."

"Hey," Wolffe said sharply, tapping on the table, "who're you trying to convince? 'Cause from where I’m standing, the only person who thinks you don’t have a chance is you.”

The worst part about sharing a genetic profile with someone else, Ghoul decided, was that it became impossible to convince either of his brothers that he was incapable of anything other than being an insufferable bastard. Fox was a little hapless when it came to compliments, but Wolffe was relentless, insisting on hyping Ghoul up every chance he got. It was…infuriating.

It was infuriating…and he wanted so badly for Wolffe to be right.

“She…she kissed me,” Ghoul said, spitting the words out before he could change his mind. “After I walked her home. She kissed me. On the mouth.”

Wolffe’s jaw dropped.

“She kissed you,” he said, enunciating every word, “on the mouth…and you still think you don’t have a chance?”

When he laid it out so plainly…it did sound stupid. Ghoul tucked the lower half of his face into the crook of his arm and leaned against the table, wishing the floor would just open up and suck him beneath it. He heard Wolffe sigh and felt his foot nudge between both of his own beneath the table. The ice cubes in the empty glass clinked against one another as they began to melt. 

“Can I be honest with you?” Wolffe asked.

Ghoul shrugged, resigned himself to listening to whatever it was that his brother was going to say. He didn’t have the wherewithal to put up a resistance anymore.

“You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be,” Wolffe continued once he saw no objection coming his way. “She likes you—she obviously and unequivocally likes you. If you like her back, all you have to do is just…go with the flow. No expectations, just…try to relax, enjoy yourself, and have a bit of fun. Follow her lead if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And after that?” Ghoul croaked. “What do I do after?”

“You just make it up as you go along,” Wolffe chuckled. “Listen, I’m no expert either, but I’ve got a few notches on my belt and…it doesn’t need to last a long time for it to be fun. And who knows? Maybe it’ll turn into something more.”

Ghoul didn’t want to think that far ahead, not when he could scarcely wrap his mind around the present revelation of Odessa actually liking him. He still wasn’t sure he could believe it, not fully at least. 

“Guess I’ll try and find out tomorrow,” he groaned, sitting back up. “I think…I think I’m gonna head out. I don’t feel like drinking anymore.”

“I’ll cover the tab,” Wolffe said, almost immediately. “But I’m gonna stay for a bit.”

“You…want me to, uh–”

“No,” Wolffe said, glancing up at him. “It’s fine. Just…wanna think about things and be alone. Nothin’ about you, I promise.”

If it was a promise made by Wolffe, then it was a promise Ghoul knew he could trust. He nodded and slid out of the booth, almost tripping onto his face when Wolffe suddenly hooked his foot behind Ghoul’s knee.

“Watch your back out there,” he said with a smirk as Ghoul violently untangled their legs before aiming a harsh kick at his thigh. It missed the mark but his intention was clear, and Wolffe made a rude gesture that was accompanied by a wink before tossing Ghoul’s helmet at him.

“Too bad you didn’t drown in your tube,” Ghoul sputtered.

“And miss out on all the action?” Wolffe scoffed. “Please. You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.”

Brothers, Ghoul thought sourly as he stalked out of the bar and back to the barracks.

Odessa didn’t contact him as soon as he thought she might have, but when he awoke in the morning there was a notification on his commlink indicating he had an unread message from a new contact. Still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Ghoul opened it and recognized the address almost immediately for how close it was to the Senate tower. It was far enough from the base to necessitate utilizing the public transport system, a prospect that made the fine hair on the back of his neck stand on edge. He hated the idea of being pressed between so many bodies and crushed together in so small a space…but he figured if he wore his full kit it wouldn’t be so bad, especially with his helmet on. 

Hopefully Odessa wasn’t expecting him to dress down. 

The lift across the city he managed to ignore by going through everything that had happened during his deployment to Ryloth, trying to filter through events that were still statused as classified and the other, less mission critical things that he could get away with revealing to a bunch of civvies. He was still apprehensive about it, didn’t like the idea of information passing into the wrong hands…but if it was just a load of Twi’leks whom Odessa trusted…well, he was already willing to take on one major risk for her sake. What was another thrown into the mix?

Odessa was already waiting for him out front, sitting on a bench in the shade with her backpack next to her and a datapad in her hands. He’d have seen her from a kilometer away with all the skin she was showing, but the dress she wore was also bright, a yellow color that complimented her skin tone. It fluttered in the slight breeze, billowing around her knees until she tucked the edge under her thighs. He didn’t know anything about style or fashion…but it was a good look. Odessa probably knew how to make anything look nice, though.

Being the only trooper around, it didn’t take long for her to spot him. He was already making his way over when she jumped up, stuffing her datapad back into her bag and then running across the plaza to meet him with a smile as dazzling as the sun. She was so pretty that Ghoul felt his heart stutter in his chest at the sight of her. He liked the particular shade of her skin especially, and the way her lekku swayed every time she moved her head. 

“I am so glad you have made it!” she said excitedly as she stopped in front of him, clasping her hands together and bouncing in place. “The address was not too difficult to find?”

“I’m familiar with the area,” Ghoul said, the vocoder in his helmet making his voice sound even grittier than it already was. He pointed toward the Senate buildings looming in the distance, monoliths of ‘democracy’ and ‘freedom’ he was supposed to look toward with respect and gratitude.

“I’ve been up there more times than I care to admit, just to deliver reports,” he said. 

“Oooh,” Odessa cooed, her eyes widening. “That is exciting! I have never been—there is nothing there for someone like me anyway, but one day you must tell me what it is like on the inside!”

Boring, came to mind. Too luxurious for my tastes. A waste of funds that would be better spent helping out good people like you.

“It’s not that impressive,” he said. “You’re not missing out on anything.”

Odessa giggled even though he hadn’t said anything funny and Ghoul wondered if the way the ends of her lekku curled said anything. Ryl language packs could be requested through the GAR itself, but according to Wolffe, what Twi’leks did with their lekku wasn’t universally recognized as a language and therefore had to be picked up colloquially…and if one didn’t possess lekku themselves it was seen as a moot point. The only person Ghoul could think of who might have some insight on how to go about figuring out where to start learning on his own…was Captain Howzer.

Ghoul was glad for his helmet in the moment—it hid his sneer and saved him from having to explain to Odessa why his mood visibly tanked. He’d have to figure out something else eventually, if he planned on actually making the effort to learn more about her culture. There was absolutely no way he was going to ask Howzer for advice.

“Well,” Odessa said, breaking him free of his sour thoughts, “shall we go in? I am excited to be introducing you!”

Ghoul’s apprehension returned, like a pile of slick Trandoshan eels writhing and rolling around in the pit of his stomach. He still didn’t think it was a good idea, but he had already had it out with himself while he was getting ready. Staring down his reflection in a mirror and refusing to disappoint Odessa even though what she had asked of him was…it should have been an easy ‘no’...but he couldn’t do it.

For some reason he just couldn’t look her in the face and turn her down, when the favor she asked of him was…really, it was simple, so small a thing it shouldn’t have been such a big deal. His training was deeply ingrained, however; obedience was something built into every single clone, buried somewhere in the very strands of their DNA. He hated it, fought back against it every chance he got, but there were some things he couldn’t let go of and giving up sensitive information was at the top of that list.

But Wolffe had been right—already several news channels had picked up stories from Ryloth and without saying much had already planted the seed in people’s heads that the Republic Army had something to do with the recent strike the Twi’lek rebellion had made against the Separatist forces. Ghoul figured that he didn’t need to give the refugees a blow-by-blow account to set their minds at ease. It wouldn’t be like those reports he had been forced to write…and at least…maybe this was an audience who’d be a little more appreciative of his efforts.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ghoul sighed, steeling himself. He followed Odessa up to the doors of the Center for Inter-Planetary Affairs and then inside, where she called out to a man sitting behind a counter and glass partition. He glanced up and then balked at the sight of Ghoul, who probably looked out of place dressed in full gear. Again, he was glad for the helmet to hide his face. He didn’t like the way the man stared, but it was the harmless sort that came from being surprised by the sight of a trooper so far from the base. He tried nodding, as if he intended to greet the man, and that seemed to do something to alleviate the man’s misgivings. 

“Uh, guest pass?” the man asked, and Odessa held a finger to her lips. 

“It is a surprise visit,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “We will not be very long; please keep it to yourself?”

“Y-yeah, I guess,” the man said, shaking himself. “You, uh, know about the other visitors? They’ll be on their way soon.”

“We will not be bothering anyone except my people,” Odessa said, charming her way past a second set of doors that looked like they were meant for employee use only. Ghoul had to turn sideways to fit through the narrow door frame, but he followed after Odessa quickly and quietly, to put as much distance between himself and the employee as possible.

“Thought you said you talked to them already,” he complained, hating the way it made him feel to catch unwanted attention like that.

“My people, yes,” Odessa admitted, “but no one else knows you are here. They would have had us fill out paperwork for hours had they known. But I am always coming and going, so they allow me a little bit of leeway.”

“Oh,” Ghoul said, his stomach churning all over again. “You won’t get in trouble for this?”

“No, they would not dare. I am saving them a lot of time and credits by volunteering my time and services. Without me they would need to hire a translator, so they will be looking the other way sometimes when I show up unannounced. Will you be taking off your helmet? It is not uncomfortable?”

He hadn’t planned on it. The helmet was one of the only things that could still render him just another number among thousands of other clones. Even if his armor wasn’t the standard-issue, there were plenty of other spec-ops who bore the same kit, making it more difficult to pick him out in a lineup—not by much, but it offered just enough protection to give him some peace of mind. Once the helmet came off, that illusion of safety was shattered. 

“Do I have to?” he asked, fighting back the combative instinct rising up inside, making him want to abandon the entire ordeal and head back to the barracks. 

Odessa looked up at him with her head tilted to the side in that way that made her look especially curious.

“Are you not wanting anyone to see you?” she asked gently. “I did already tell them they should not ask rude questions.”

Ghoul’s throat worked uselessly as he tried to swallow and couldn’t. Frustration, the feeling he was most familiar with, made his skin itch as he tried to think of an excuse that didn’t make him sound…pathetic.

“Just…don’t wanna scare anyone,” he said lamely, after coming up with nothing better.

Odessa blinked a few times before offering him a small smile. Normally it was easy for Ghoul to tell when someone felt sorry for him—it was a sad, pitying look he just knew made them feel so noble and good about themselves. He knew they thought he should be so grateful for their compassion, but it was always unasked for and unwanted. They could take their self-righteous sympathy and shove it up their ass.

But, try as he might, Ghoul couldn’t find any sign that Odessa pitied him. She just smiled softly, the curve of her lips very slight, almost gentle, like she understood him in a way that no one else did.

“You do not have to,” she said. “If it will make you more comfortable to keep it on, then do so. No one will object”

There was no sign on the door to dictate what he should or shouldn’t do, and if she didn’t care then he was going to keep it on. Still, he felt…relief at having been given the choice. For a moment he thought she was going to insist…but she managed to surprise him again. She was good at that.

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it. 

“You are welcome. Now, follow me closely; there are many people here, but most are staying with their own species. Ignore everyone else.”

She pushed through another employee door at the end of the short hallway, leading them into an enormous room that made the mess hall back on base look like a custodial closet. Ghoul didn’t know where to look first, but the first thing that caught his attention were the rows upon rows of bunk beds, not unlike the same ones issued to the GAR that he and thousands of other clones slept in every night. At a glance he thought there had to be a few hundred of them, and every single one sported the same dingy mattress and dull gray sheets, as well as a single pillow too flat to be of any real comfort. Piled around each pair of bunks were bags and small storage crates—personal belongings, he realized.

The bunks gave way to an open area where he saw a gaggle of children playing, kicking a ball around and passing it back and forth as their guardians watched them from chairs and tables nearby. At the far end of the hall sat a long row of counters Ghoul almost immediately recognized as the same kind of setup back on base for the mess hall. It seemed like they had tried to cram as much as they could into the room to try and utilize every millimeter of space they had…and as he continued to look around, Ghoul realized that it still wasn’t enough. 

There were so many people. 

He could see everything from Bothans to Mon Calamari scattered about the room, and a little bit of every other species sprinkled in between. There were only a few he didn’t immediately recognize, and a few that surprised him like to see, like the giant Wooke who nearly ran him over as they chased after a couple of squealing younglings. It was a rare sight to see a Wookie anywhere else but Kashyyyk. 

The murmur of conversation flowed around him—he caught snippets of Huttese, Kenari, and Rodian, but mostly broken strings of Basic. He understood a few languages, as most clones had been encouraged to pick up at least one other besides Basic, but Mando’a was more for his own personal, private use than anything, and Huttese only came in handy when he was dealing with lowlife scum closer to the Outer Rim. 

Should have picked Ryl, he thought to himself as Odessa led him to a far corner where a handful of Twi’lek were already gathered around in a circle, seemingly waiting for them to arrive.

“Juun!” Odessa called out, capturing the attention of one of the male Twi’lek. He turned to look, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to outright joy as he caught sight of her, and he stood up, throwing his arms wide in greeting.

“Odessa, Kassurra!” he said, hugging her when Odessa got close enough. 

“Kei’nata nei,” she replied, returning the hug with enthusiasm. Several other Twi’lek got up from their seats to greet her and a couple children threw their skinny arms around her waist to hang off of her. Ghoul watched the reunion, feeling like an outsider intruding on something he wasn’t meant to see. Odessa was…clearly beloved. The looks on their faces said more than words ever could and he guessed that all her time and effort spent volunteering must have really paid off for them to treat her with such regard.

Odessa gestured back to him as she spoke to her people—they spared him curious glances, but thankfully paid more attention to whatever it was that she was saying. Ghoul didn’t think there was going to be much he could offer them. He had a mental list of things he was willing to divulge, but he sincerely doubted it would be enough to bring them any sort of relief. After all, they were stuck living in cramped quarters with no real privacy of their own. It reminded him of the conditions he and his fellow clones were forced to live in…but he was a soldier. The cacophony of noises surrounding them wasn’t unlike the sort of thing he was used to ignoring in the barracks, along with the scent of so many bodies sharing so little space. 

"Ghoul?"

He flinched and looked up, realizing that Odessa and all the other Twi'lek were staring at him…waiting on him. Beneath his blacks he could feel sweat drip down the small of his back.

"Didn't wanna interrupt," he managed to say. 

Odessa bought it—of course she did—and gestured for him to step forth. He did, one foot at a time, each one dragging like it weighed a ton. He saw her hand reaching for him, her fingers finding the space between his vambrace and rerebrace and curling into the crook of his elbow. He shuddered at her touch, but didn't shy away from it. She was gentle, guiding him alongside her as she stepped into the center of the little gathering. 

"You are not interrupting," she said softly, squeezing him in reassurance. Ghoul had never been more grateful that she had chanced to take hold of him by his left arm instead of the cold and unfeeling right.

“I can’t say much,” he reminded her, trying to ignore all the expectant eyes looking his way. 

"I already told them. They are grateful regardless. Anything you can reveal would mean the world to them."

"I don't speak Ryl."

"I will translate," Odessa said with more patience than he would have had. She looked up at him, her eyes scanning across his helmet's visor until he wondered if she could somehow see through the dark lens.

"Do not be nervous," she said, squeezing him again. "I am right here with you."

Damnit.

"Uh…right," Ghoul said, simulating a cough to give himself room to start. He quickly filtered through his mental list of what he thought was acceptable to share and took a deep breath.

Across the room, doors hissed open and he heard the exclamations of more than a few people. He couldn’t help but glance over…and immediately wished he hadn’t.

He’d recognize those brown robes anywhere.

“Uh,” he said again, stiffening up. Odessa noticed, because how could she not, with the way his whole body tensed at the sight of the two Jedi who swept into the room amid a chorus of eager cries and salutations, like they were saviors come to liberate the refugees from their sorry existence. She looked over, following the tilt of his helmet until she too caught sight of them.

“Ghoul?” she asked, squeezing his arm. “Are you alright?”

I’m fine, he tried to say, but no sound came out. 

He hated Jedi—he hated them and their over-inflated sense of self-importance and he hated the way they acted like they knew better than everyone else, just because of some mystical connection to ‘the Force’, whatever that was. They claimed not to be soldiers, but they expected clones to follow their lead on the battlefield regardless. They played games, spoke in riddles, and acted like every life lost was ‘the will of the Force’. The entire order could burn down to the ground for all he cared, as long as they stayed the hell away from him.

Odessa wouldn’t know that though, because he had never mentioned it. 

He never wanted to, and in a perfect world where everything went his way he never would.

But the Jedi circled closer, hands tucked into the wide sleeves of their robes and benevolent smiles on their faces like they were doing some great service gracing the center with their presence. He wanted to vomit.

“Ghoul,” Odessa said, shaking his arm a bit. The Twi’lek she had addressed first, Juun, said something in Ryl and then grimaced.

“Is he…well?” he asked in Basic, his accent thicker than Odessa’s.

“I do not know,” she said. 

“Fine,” Ghoul finally bit out. “I’m…I’m fine. Just…I have to go.”

“What is happening?” Odessa pressed, concern making her eyebrows knit together. She hadn’t let go of him and even though she only touched him through the protective layer of his blacks, Ghoul felt his skin start to crawl. There were too many people around, too much space and not enough of it at the same time. Every step the Jedi took that drew them closer made Ghoul feel like he was being boxed in, cornered. He looked around, trying to find the door they had come in through, but there was a throng of people blocking his line of sight.

Unease started to devolve into panic and he tried shaking Odessa off. 

“You are not okay,” she said, letting go of his arm immediately when it became apparent that something was wrong. “Is it the Jedi? If they are bothering you I will talk to them, perhaps they can—”

“No,” Ghoul snapped, “Just…just shut up. I don’t need you to do anything. Don’t talk to them, don’t even…just leave me alone for a minute. I have to…have to….”

He didn’t want to look at the hurt on her face when he spoke to her like that. Odessa didn’t deserve any of his ire, but she was the one who was closest, making herself a convenient target with the way she tried to console him. There was nothing she could do, nothing that would make things right. She didn’t understand and he wasn’t going to waste his breath trying to explain even if she went over and told the Jedi to get lost, it wouldn’t change anything. 

She couldn’t change the past.

“I think you are needing to sit down,” she insisted. “Take off your helmet. I will get you something to drink.”

“No,” he growled, pushing her hand away when she tried to take hold of his arm again. He didn’t want to sit down. He needed to leave. The other Twi’lek were looking at him strangely, as well as some of the other people closest. Ghoul was aware that they could hear him, see him, and that he was beginning to draw too much attention to himself. If he acted out anymore the Jedi would take notice and come over to stick their noses where they didn’t belong, and then—

“Can you lift me?” 

“Yes, of course. You don’t look that heavy.”

“No, with magic!”

“It’s not magic, little one, but the Force.”

“Use it to lift me!”

Ghoul squeezed his eyes shut and tried to drown out the sounds of children begging the Jedi to regale them with their mystical party tricks. They were too close now, much too close for his liking. His finger twitched, but he had left his blaster back at the barracks, for safety; he hadn’t expected to need it. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t in danger. He knew this, he knew it, but—

“Ghoul,” Odessa, pleaded, both of her small hands curling around one his, cradling it tight. He hadn’t moved at all, just stood there, paralyzed by something he couldn’t explain, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You need therapy, Wolffe’s voice called out to him, but it was so far away, so distant he knew his brother couldn’t help him, didn’t even know where he was.

“I have to leave,” he whispered.

“Show us your light sword!”

“I don’t know…it isn’t a toy.”

“Don’t be so rigid, they’re only curious. Here, you all may look, but no touching.”

PSSHEEWW

The sound of the lightsaber ignition drowned out everything else. So close, Ghoul felt as though he could hear it inside his head and all throughout his bones, like the hum of the blade was something tangible eating its way underneath his skin.

Suddenly, he wasn’t on Coruscant anymore. He wasn’t safe inside a refugee center, Odessa’s hands wrapped around his. 

When Ghoul opened his eyes, the only thing he could see…was Toydaria, the swampy, muggy landscape on fire around him and the bloodied, shattered bodies of his men, his brothers, littered at his feet. He balked as he looked around, not understanding how he had ended up back there when he had sworn never to step foot on that planet again, no matter what kind of orders he received. Separatist ships screamed overhead, flying so low he could feel the vibrations from their repulsor engines through his boots…or maybe that was the distant explosions caused by proton torpedos slamming into the ground.

He tried to suck in a breath, tried to activate his commlink to call for an extraction, but his arm didn’t move. He tried again and pain shot up his shoulder and into his ribs; when he looked down, he saw why—his arm didn’t move because it wasn’t there. All that was left was the bloody and charred stump, the bone jutting through his skin.

Ghoul tried screaming, but that didn’t work either. All that emanated from his mouth was a wet, rasping gurgle and too late he realized his mouth was gone, bottom jaw and tongue ripped away in an explosion he hadn’t even seen. Blood and gore drenched his chestplate, soaking into his blacks and sticking to his skin. He couldn’t even feel pain anymore, couldn’t feel anything at all, just the steady hum of a lightsaber in his head, the whooom sound it made when swung and screams echoing in the distance.

They were dead, his men were all dead and he was too, he was dying and no one cared, no one cared enough to stop it from happening. 

“Commander,” he heard from somewhere by his feet.

He looked down and stared into the deathly pale face of one of his brothers, a clone whose name he could no longer remember, blood bubbling out from between his lips in a frothy pink mess. He grabbed at Ghoul’s boot, broken fingers scrabbling for purchase against his greaves. 

“It’s okay,” he slurred, “they can always make more of us.”

Ghoul took a step back and stumbled, his foot slipping against mud…except it wasn’t mud. Slick, crimson lengths of ropey intestines spewed over the ground, the mangled bodies of his unit strewn in front of him, all of them looking at him, through him, their eyes glassy and pale and rimmed with blood.

“They’ll just make more,” they spoke as one, their voices coalescing into a polyphonic chorus that threatened to overwhelm him. Ghoul tried to clap his hands over his ears but he couldn’t—it wouldn't have mattered if he could.

The voices came from within.

“Ghoul!”

“Leave me alone,” he groaned. “Please, just leave me alone!”

Hands pulled at him, trying to drag him down into the muck; he resisted at first, but then thought…why should he? He belonged there with them, dying alongside his brothers as had been intended. It was only luck that had saved him, luck and…and….

The hands tugged at him harder and he gave up, his feet moving freely as he allowed himself to be pulled.

But instead of going down to be buried beneath the still warm bodies of his unit, the hands tugged him sideways, away from the field of carnage, away from the pained screams and the distant explosions that sent a ringing through his ears until it overtook everything else, mercifully silencing even the sound of the lightsaber. Eventually Ghoul felt something solid at his back and hands prying his helmet off his head; it was then he began to thrash—the helmet was the only thing keeping him together, keeping him from falling apart—what was left of him would come undone if they removed it.

I don’t wanna die, a tiny little voice whispered in the back of his mind. I haven’t lived long enough, I don’t wanna die!

But he couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see and the hands were too insistent—the helmet came off and a bright light assaulted his eyes. Ghoul gasped, then yelled unintelligibly, his voice strangled. 

Kamino.

He was back on Kamino and they were killing them. 

The clones who were left alive, who somehow survived alongside him, the longnecks were murdering them. He held his arms up, trying to fend off the hands that wanted to inject him with needles, sending him into a dreamless sleep from which he’d never wake, but he was too weak from blood loss. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight, couldn’t breathe, and they were going to kill him too, because what good was he anymore?

“Shhhh,” a voice said. “It is okay. Breathe. You are safe!”

He didn’t believe it. He wasn’t any safer in the hands of the Kaminoans than he was on the battlefield. No one understood, no one knew what they were really capable of. He couldn’t breathe. There was just wet wheezing when he tried, like his lungs couldn’t get full enough to exhale and his heart, beating so fast he thought it was going to burst out of his chest at any moment. The hands touched his face and he jerked like he had been shot, trying to pull away, but then he felt himself being pulled down and felt his forehead…felt it touch someone else’s.

Wolffe? he wondered. Fox?

“You are safe,” the voice repeated. “I am here, I will not let anything happen to you.”

Ghoul gasped, trying to wrench his head away, but he couldn’t move. His body felt too heavy and none of his limbs wanted to obey him anymore. The ringing in his ears lessened, replaced with the pounding of his heart and the sounds of his own voice, wretched and embarrassingly loud as he sobbed. He managed a blink and his eyes felt wet—too late he realized he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and neck. He blinked again, trying to focus his eyes long enough for his brain to make sense of what he was seeing.

It wasn’t Toydaria, nor was it Kamino. 

It was…a dirty back alleyway on Coruscant, duracrete beneath his boots and at his back, the sun shining overhead…and Odessa in front of him, her hands cupped around his face and her forehead pressed to his. Her eyes were shut and she bit into her bottom lip, pressed so close to him that she was practically sandwiching him against the wall…but for some strange reason…her proximity didn’t feel so suffocating.

“Take deep breaths,” she whispered. “With me. Try to follow along. In…and out.”

She drew in a slow breath and Ghoul tried to copy her, gasping painfully as he tried to remember how his body was meant to work. 

He was safe, she said. 

They both exhaled at the same time, Odessa’s slow and steady while Ghoul erupted into a coughing fit. She was patient though, so patient and she held onto him, looking him in the eyes and thumbing the patches of skin along his cheekbones to wipe away his tears.

“Again,” she urged, and this time when he inhaled it didn’t hurt so much. His lungs filled and the lightheadedness he had begun to feel went away. He exhaled shakily, ahead of her prompting, and then inhaled again. He could breathe. He could breathe. He wasn’t bleeding or dying. He was safe.

He was alive.

Odessa never left his side. Her hands fell from his face to his shoulders once the worst of the panic attack had abated, but she stayed pressed against him like she knew the pressure of her small body against his would be enough to ground him back in reality. She didn’t say much, but watched him carefully, like she was looking for any signs of further distress. He almost couldn’t bear the weight of her eyes on him…in some way it was more painful than what he had just experienced.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Odessa eventually asked, once his breathing had returned to mostly normal. “Water? Something to eat?”

“N-no,” Ghoul managed to say, despite the components of his lower jaw feeling like they were about to overheat from friction. “I’m…I’m good.”

“That is a lie,” Odessa snorted. “I am seeing that now. You like to say you are fine when you are not. You were not ‘good’ just a few minutes ago.”

Ghoul didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, outside of apologizing to her for exposing her to his…his issues. Shame curled around his neck like a hangman’s noose, tightening until he felt like choking. She didn’t deserve to have all of him inflicted upon her. She was too good and too kind…and he hadn’t done anything deserving of her attention.

“You don’t have to stick around,” he said, taking hold of her wrists and pushing her away. He slumped against the wall until he dropped onto his ass, holding his head in his hands and trying to fight off the overwhelming urge to throw himself off the top of the Senate buildings.

“I’m a mess.”

Ghoul could feel her eyes on the top of his head and he hoped, wished she’d take the hint and just…leave him alone. Misery had already sunk its claws into him and he was no longer fit for company. But to his surprise, she sighed and tucked her dress around her thighs before crouching down beside him.

“You have been through a lot,” she said, hugging her knees and resting her cheek on top. “It does not make you messy…but I can see it is something you have trouble managing on your own.”

“It was just a panic attack,” Ghoul mumbled, hanging his head. “Happens all the time to most of us.”

“That was not a panic attack,” Odessa said firmly. “You have…something like my father. I do not know what to call it in Basic. It is worse. It is like…something terrible happened, and suddenly you are reminded of it. And you…see it happening again. Like you are there, all over again.”

Ghoul whipped his head up, staring at her with his mouth fallen open.

“It's PTSD,” he croaked. “How’d you know?”

Odessa shrugged and took hold of the ends of her lekku, bringing them together in a fidget.

“My father suffers the same affliction,” she said. “Sometimes he will hear a noise, or smell something strange, and he will just…stop moving. His eyes are open but he is not seeing what is in front of him. Sometimes he is not himself. I have seen him cry and rage and break things during his episodes.”

“...what happened to him?”

It was a question he hated when other people asked him…it was audacious of him to even think he had any right to ask someone else, but Odessa didn’t seem to mind. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily, still occupying her hands with her lekku.

“He watched my mother die,” she said softly. “He could not save her…and it haunts him.”

“Oh…I’m…I’m sorry.”

It was the first time he could remember apologizing in a long time, and he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. As a clone, they didn’t have mothers, or anything remotely close to a maternal figure. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent…but ‘sorry’ felt like the kind of thing he was supposed to say.

“It happened last year,” she said, her voice still soft and sad. “He sent me to Coruscant because he did not want the same thing to be happening to me.”

“Was it the Separatists?” Ghoul asked, curious. Distracting himself made it feel better, helped him push aside the shame and regret. He realized he didn’t know that much about her, apart from the things she had told him. Odessa nodded and dropped her lekku to hug her knees again, squeezing herself tight.

“They sent a bounty hunter after my father,” she said. “He saw something, I think, that was very sensitive to their plans. He was not home when the hunter came, but my mother and I were.”

Ghoul’s breath caught in his chest.

“You were there too?” he asked.

“...yes.”

“...what happened?”

Odessa scrunched up her face and turned away. For a moment he thought he had crossed a line, that he had asked too much of her and that she was going to stand up and leave him sitting there in the dank alleyway. He wouldn’t have blamed her; it was just his luck that he didn’t know how to carry a conversation. Selfishly, he had only wanted to distract himself, at the cost of her own comfort. His stomach dropped at the thought that maybe he had hurt her by being too insensitive, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better.

But he didn’t need to. Odessa looked back at him, her eyes watery but determined.

“The hunter tried to use us as bait,” she said. “He planned to wait for my father to return home and ambush him. I think it would have worked if not for my mother. She was very smart, really very good with mechanical and electrical work. She would always be tinkering with something…so she was able to slip out of her stasis cuffs.”

“That’s impressive,” Ghoul said truthfully.

“Yes. She surprised the hunter as he attacked my father…tried to take his blaster from him. But….”

She looked about to cry and Ghoul didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t the comforting type; he didn’t know how to do what she did and he didn’t know if any attempt would be welcome, so he sat there and waited, hoping it was enough for her that he was listening. Odessa dragged the back of her hand over her eyes and sniffled.

“She did not know how to use a blaster,” she said angrily. “All the times she asked my father to teach her and he refused, because he did not want her to become more involved! If she had known, maybe she would still be alive. If he was not so stubborn….”

Something clicked inside of Ghoul’s brain and he looked up at her in shock.

“Is that…is that why you were…at the range, you didn’t want to hold it. The blaster. And I…kriff, you should have said something! I…I wouldn’t have made you if I had–”

“No,” Odessa said, shaking her head. “No, I wanted to learn! My father refused to teach me for the same reason he did not teach my mother. Truthfully, he is very protective…but he thought he could keep us away from the war. I know his intentions were noble, but….”

“He can’t protect you from everything,” Ghoul supplied for her. “That’s just…stupid. Better if you can defend yourself, if the need arises.”

The look she shot his way was almost grateful and she nodded in agreement before tucking her lekku back over her shoulders.

“You were the first person who was on my side,” she said. “It made me like you even more.”

Ghoul felt his pulse quicken, but thankfully this time it had nothing to do with panic. He thought about asking her what she meant, but the timing felt…off, like it’d be wrong to take away from where they were now, sitting on the ground and baring parts of themselves to each other that were still raw and bleeding around the edges, like a scab that had been picked at too many times.

He didn’t know if he had it in him to be as trusting with his own vulnerabilities. The idea of giving anyone ammo that could be used against him made him want to peel his skin off. The one time he had tried talking to the military-approved therapist, she had pried for details he hadn’t been ready to give and then grew upset with him when he ended the session early. He didn’t like being pressured…he hated when people stared because he knew what was going through their heads. They wanted to know so bad it ate them up on the inside to hold their tongues.

“You don’t ever ask me anything about the way I look,” Ghoul said, surprising himself with how steady his voice held. “How come?”

Odessa looked over at him with a frown, almost like she was insulted. The ends of her lekku twitched and Ghoul tried to memorize the exact way they moved, because he was going to find a way to translate what they were saying even if it killed him.

“It is not my place to ask,” she said evenly. “If you are wanting me to know, then you will tell me. Until then, I have no say.”

“You’re not curious?”

“Even if I am, why is it that my curiosity is being more important than your comfort?”

Oh.

Warmth spread through him from head to toe, erasing the last uncomfortable vestiges his episode had left prickling under his skin. He didn’t know what it was like to fall for someone…but he imagined it was…it had to be something like this, looking at Odessa and realizing that she saw someone worth respecting. Any other day he might’ve thought it pathetic that his standards were so low…but for now…for now he just let the feeling flow through him, basking in the way she looked at him with a small, secretive smile he wanted to believe was for him alone.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I…don't…I'm not used to people sticking around for so long. You're probably the first."

"First what?" Odessa asked, confused.

"Uh…friend," Ghoul said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're the first friend I've had since…since before I looked like this."

Odessa stilled for a moment, then scooted closer, so that their arms touched. He held his breath, trying to figure out what she was up to, and then froze in place as she laid her head against the hard shoulder plate of his armor.

"You are my first real friend too," she admitted. "I am glad to have met you."

Ghoul swallowed hard, the motion painful, and waited for the usual round of doubt to hit him…and he kept waiting because it never did. She wasn't pulling his leg or leading him on…she really meant it. The part of him that was quick to reject any notion that didn't support his usual self-loathing was mercifully silent. He didn't dare move and barely breathed out of fear that if he did either she'd find her excuse to leave.

"You want to stay here?" Odessa asked after a moment.

"I…I don't wanna go back in there," Ghoul said. "You'll have to tell your friends that I…that I had something come up, and–"

"I will make up something," she said. "Do not worry yourself about it."

"...I don't feel like moving."

"Then we sit here."

"...why are you so—"

So damn pretty?

"—nice?"

Odessa rolled her head against his shoulder to look up at him. She blinked and he could see the individual striations that made up her blue eyes, the lighter flecks that made it look like they sparkled in the sunlight.

"What else am I supposed to be?" she asked.

He didn't have an answer for that and sat back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him and trying not to think about how strange they looked. But then Odessa pressed closer, slipping her arm beneath his and resting her hand on his vambrace. The next time he glanced down at her she had her eyes shut.

Slowly…very slowly, Ghoul allowed himself to take a breath, then another. When she didn't immediately get up and run away, he sighed in relief. He didn't know how long it was going to take for his legs to stop feeling like they were made of gelatin…but for as long as she was willing to sit with him, he figured he could handle it.

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

Written for @cloned-eyes​ and for Ghoul, and for me and Odessa. This took forever, but I’m patient and a stickler so it is what it is. I had to divide it into parts ‘cause it was getting to be entirely too long. Another 40+ pages of entertainment, so I hope you all enjoy. Tagging @passionofthesith 'cause they were bold enough to ask for it lol.

Uhhh, there’s smut in this one and there’s gonna be smut in the next one too, so don’t get caught reading it if you’re not supposed to be. I’m not your mom.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6 (Part 1 of 2)

“Can I get another malt over here?”

“You were cut off half an hour ago, Orion, have some class an’ take it back to base, yeah?”

“Damn, you’re mean. Odiiiie….”

“Don’t even think about it, she’s wise to your ways too.”

The clone trooper pouted and dropped his head down into his crossed arms, almost knocking one of the many glasses he’d emptied to the floor. Magda caught it expertly before it could fall off the counter and began loading up the sink with more dirty dishes, neverending as they were. Outside, thunder rumbled overhead, loud enough that some of the glass bottles shook with the reverberations, gently clinking against one another like little bells.

The bar was quiet so late at night, when most of the regulars had already been driven off after their supply had been cut off; at that point, most of them were hardly capable of lifting another glass without spilling it everywhere, let alone manage to drink it down. Their usual patrons were pretty good about knowing when their time had come and they’d slouch off good-naturedly without having to be told, leaving behind a collection of empty glasses and, if they felt the service warranted it, a sizable tip.

Orion wasn’t usually one of the ones who needed a little extra convincing in order to leave, but his squad had abandoned him to the bar early on, right before the rain started to come down in sheets. The weather had been like that all day, forcing more and more people indoors until the bar had been packed to the walls with passerbys just trying to keep themselves dry. Rain was good for business, usually, a fact that Odessa had taken advantage of as she teased and lured new faces closer to the bar, urging them to relax and take a drink or two while they waited for the rain to let up.

Now there were only a few customers left, Orion included. All of the empty tables had been wiped down and the floors underneath swept clear. Some chairs were already stacked against the walls and the smaller tables had been clustered into groups for easier cleaning. Between Odessa and Magda, the three stragglers nursing their last drinks were easy enough to handle and they didn’t mind staying late a couple extra hours to see them off.

“Odie…,” Orion whined, looking up from his arms, “c’mon, just one more? I promise it’ll be my last.”

“You had your last already,” Odessa said sweetly, leaning over the counter to ruffle his curly hair. “Come now, I will call you a transport if you cannot find your way back. Where did your unit go?”

Orion shrugged and folded in on himself again, his morose expression just a tad bit defiant in the way he made no move toward getting off his stool. Odessa sighed and decided she’d let Magda handle it when the time came to lock the doors. Perhaps she was too soft with them, but the day had dragged on for longer than normal and she didn’t have the energy to act tough. Right now, all she was looking forward to was returning to her little apartment and taking a long, indulgent shower before dropping into bed and passing out. 

“You look dead on your feet kiddo,” Magda said as Odessa joined her by the sink to help dry the freshly cleaned dishware. “Everything alright?”

“It is nothing,” Odessa sighed as she stacked the rinsed tumblers on a tray to be run through the sanitizer. “Just a long shift I am ready to be over.”

“You have the next couple days off,” Magda said, soaked up to her elbows in the sink as she furiously scrubbed dried food off one of the small plates they used for bar snacks. “I hope you take serious advantage of it. Seems like you’ve been working yourself to the bone these past couple weeks.”

Odessa frowned even though it was the truth. She had worked everyday the past two weeks, and that wasn’t including the shifts she pulled at Rollo’s, or the mountains of work she took home from the refugee center (mostly going over paperwork and ensuring all the boxes were ticked and the correct forms were filled out). It felt like every spare minute she had was already accounted for in some way, to the point where the only time she wasn’t working, she spent it sleeping. Eating was a luxury that she didn't bother indulging in unless it was a few spare moments spent scarfing down something fresh and hot purchased from a street vendor or guiltily sneaking a snack from 79's own stash.

Maybe it showed on her face more than she would have liked—the sleep she was getting wasn’t the best. Most of her nights she spent tossing and turning until the sun came up; other times she woke violently, gasping for air, her heart pounding in her chest, and tears on her cheeks but no memory of what nightmare plagued her. Sometimes…sometimes she swore she heard the ghostly whisper of her mother’s last words to her, begging her to stay quiet, stay hidden. It was easiest to blame her lack of sleep on bad memories, so she did that now, shaking her head and lekku around until she felt some of the tension ease off her shoulders.

“I just do not like staying home all the time,” Odessa said. “If I am working, at least I am not being bored.”

“Uh-huh,” Magda said, sounding unconvinced. “I think I’d prefer to be bored. You don’t wanna end up slaving your life away while you’re still young. You should get out there, explore the world and make some friends.”

“Maybe.”

Magda tilted her head, her eyebrows arched like she was about to lay down a scolding. She was a shrewd woman at heart—nothing slipped past her notice and even though she had claimed many times before not to care about the private lives of the other girls, her actions told a different story. It wasn’t nosiness…but she had a clever way of pulling information out of the girls they might not have otherwise divulged. It was motherly, sort of, in a charming and annoying kind of way. Odessa felt Magda’s eyes boring holes into the side of her head and scrunched up her nose as she prepared herself for the inevitable.

“What?” she asked.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Magda wheedled, gently bumping their hips together. “Picking up all these extra shifts, actin’ all avoidant…seems like you’re not yourself lately.

“I am not avoidant,” Odessa protested. “I am just needing to be busy. I have bills to pay the same as anyone. Wishful thinking does not make the expenses go away.”

“You sure? No one’s been botherin’ you at all? Things good with your dad?”

She tensed up at the mention of her father. Silais was a difficult man to get a hold of when he wasn’t in a bad mood, and she admittedly hadn’t tried to contact him since their last disastrous conversation. Her final words to him were overly harsh, she knew that, but still couldn’t bring herself to try and mend the rift. Maybe she was tired of always being the one to take the first step. It was no matter—another bridge to cross when the time came.

“I am fine,” Odessa said, perhaps a little too firmly. There was nothing to talk about. She didn’t have anything to say. Why was it when she actually wanted to be quiet and reflective that everyone around her suddenly decided there must be something wrong?

“Hey, can I get another malt?” Orion asked, picking his head up again, as though he had forgotten being denied only moments earlier. 

“No,” Odessa snapped. “There is no more. We ran out. You need to go home, Orion.”

He flinched as though she had reached out and slapped him across the face. Even drunk, his eyes held a hurt that told her she had actually managed to wound him. She hated the way he pouted, the way his lower lip stuck out just a bit more than the top. He was like a little child who was about to throw a fit because he didn’t get what he wanted…and she would do anything to keep him from looking at her like she had just pulled a trigger on him. Guilt washed over her as she started searching around for a clean glass. One more couldn’t hurt, could it? 

Odessa was aware of Magda’s hawklike gaze on her the entire time she poured a half glass of malt, going against every policy they had as she set it in front of Orion and leaned over the counter to ruffle his hair again. He seemed to like the touch and blinked sleepily, leaning into her hand a bit, which only made her feel worse about snapping. 

“Do you want me to call one of your brothers?” she asked softly. “I can ask him to come get you, so you are not alone. Would that be good?”

“No,” Orion said, tracing the rim of his glass. “I’d just get yelled at. They always tell me I’m a lightweight anyway. Guess I am.”

Odessa sighed and watched him down the malt in one giant gulp, his throat working as he swallowed faster than he should’ve. She’d have to call him a transport either way; letting him wander off in his state would be irresponsible at best. 

“Someone’s in a forgiving mood,” Magda observed as Odessa resumed her spot beside the sink, absentmindedly fingering the damp towel. “I remember a time you wouldn’t have tolerated that kark. All the pretty brown eyes in the world couldn’t sway you.”

“Perhaps I am losing my touch,” she admitted. “Like you said, I am tired today. I just need to go home and rest.”

The door chimed and Odessa whipped her head up so fast she caught a painful crick in her neck, only to catch the backs of two more patrons leaving the bar to beat the rain. Disappointment coursed through her…but she should have known better. It had only been a couple weeks, and his deployments usually lasted much longer. Foolish, for her to hope. Silly, for her to keep looking for him even though she knew the odds were against her.

“I think it might be a bit more than that,” Magda said, handing over another plate with a knowing look. “You haven’t been right since the last time Tall, Dark, and Brooding was in.”

Odessa froze, clutching her towel close in both hands. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and her lekku twitched in an involuntary way that would have been a telltale sign to anyone who actually understood what the subtle movements meant. Magda impatiently waved the plate in front of her, sending water droplets flying everywhere until Odessa managed to get a hold of herself.

“Mmm,” Magda hummed as she furiously dried off the dishware, “looks like I guessed right.”

“I have been fine,” Odessa insisted, hoping her voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “It is not like I am…always looking for one particular customer…coming or going. I do not play favorites.”

“I don’t know who you’re tryin’ to fool here…but it’s not me. Odie, sweetie, you’re a nice girl, but you’re like an unlocked datapad. Anyone with eyes know you’re soft on that one.”

That one, like he didn’t have a name. Though she knew Magda didn’t mean anything by it, Odessa found herself suddenly bristling with irritation. The words she wanted to snap died on her tongue when she forcibly reminded herself that no one was as sensitive as she was to the subject of clones and respecting their chosen names, as well as the fact that Ghoul had never bothered to get to know any of the other bartenders the way he had with her. She was certain Rumi and the others didn’t remember half of the names they were told anyway, even among their non-clone regulars.

She took a deep breath and pushed aside her annoyance, continuing to stack the dried dishes on the tray as neatly as she could.

“I haven’t seen him around lately,” Magda kept on, having no idea how close she had come to receiving the thin edge of Odessa’s sharp little temper. “Have you heard from him at all?”

“Yes,” Odessa said, giving up trying to maintain her pretense of ignorance. “He’s been deployed again.”

“That’s a shame. Those poor boys can’t seem to catch a break.”

It was a shame. The war had summoned Ghoul back to the frontlines the day after their trip to the refugee center—which she tried not to think too much about—and Odessa never would have known about it if he hadn’t sent her a comm. She hadn’t expected him to contact her at all, but the notification had hit her commlink in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had the chance to breach the horizon, waking her out of a deep sleep.

Back on deployment, the terse message had read. Timeline unknown. Can’t say where.

It wasn’t long or especially detailed, but Ghoul had warned her there would be things he might not be able to tell her and she held no disillusions that she was somehow an exception to the rules by which he had to abide. She was thankful he had remembered and kept his word, thankful that she had meant enough to him to warrant the message in the first place.

Thank you, she had eventually typed back, after a few moments of deliberation. Stay safe. Drinks on me when you return.

And so she had waited, every day for the past two weeks, picking up all the extra shifts she could just in case Ghoul got back and decided to wander over to 79’s on the off chance that she’d be there. It was a silly thought—almost romantic the way she kept glancing up at the door every time it opened, a flutter in her stomach when another clone entered, her eyes immediately tracking the familiar shape of their nose and the thick lines of their eyebrows. The similarities ended there, however, and time and time again she found herself disappointed when the clone in question wasn’t her clone.

“What’s his name again?” Magda asked, breaking Odessa out of her reverie and making her jump. She realized there were three more dripping glasses placed upside down on the counter and she hurried to catch up, drying as fast as she could while Magda continued on at her usual, unhurried pace.

“Ghoul,” Odessa said, wishing the sound of his name didn’t make her heart race so painfully. “It is what he has chosen for himself.”

“A bit morbid, isn’t it? Though I guess it’s pretty fitting, all things considered…you ever ask him about what happened?”

“No,” she said softly, “He is…very private. And it is none of my business.”

“Smart girl,” Magda said warmly. “That’s what I like about you, y’know? You really give a damn about how these clones feel. You had me a bit worried when you first started, but I think you make it work for you.”

“What do you mean? Have I done something wrong?”

“No, not like that—I mean, you’re a nice girl. Too nice sometimes. I honestly thought you were gonna let them walk all over you, but you know how to hold your ground, and you respect them…I think they realize that. It’s what makes you so good at your job.”

“I am only treating them how anyone should be treated,” Odessa mumbled, her face lighting up under one of Magda’s rarely given compliments. “It is just common sense decency.”

“Maybe so, but somethin’ tells me that’s not the kind of treatment a lot of them are used to.”

That much was obvious. Odessa witnessed it everyday whenever a few clones walked in, shinies in tow who had never set foot in a bar, never seen anyone outside the men in their unit or their superior officers, never even seen someone from a different species, and the way they all looked the moment she showed them an ounce of kindness, whether by asking for their names or bringing them whatever drinks they ordered, was enough to inspire the sort of righteous anger that fueled protests outside the Senate buildings.

Clones didn’t expect to be treated like people, let alone individuals. Odessa wished she better understood them…but she suspected that understanding would be accompanied by a heartbreak she wasn’t sure she could stomach. 

“Then I will make sure they know how they deserve to be treated,” she said. “It is the least I can do.”

“You do more than enough,” Magda said, nodding toward Orion, who looked like he was seconds away from falling asleep at the counter. “But don’t think I don’t notice how sweet you are on Ghoul. Rumi says he doesn’t even like the other girls taking his order.”

Odessa felt her blush return with a vengeance, creeping down her neck and spreading over her lekku so fiercely that one didn’t have to be skilled in any language to know what it meant. Magda chuckled beside her and she knew there was no sense in denying anything.

“I already know what he likes,” she said, trying to explain Ghoul’s rude mannerisms like it would somehow help his image. “I just bring it to him before he has a chance to say anything.”

“You mean you’ve memorized his favorite drink,” Magda laughed. “Girl, you’re a mess for him. I heard you also went on a date?”

“It was not a date,” Odessa said breathlessly, her lekku curling happily as she recalled the shooting range. “He was just…giving me lessons on how to shoot a blaster, since I am not having any before. My father would not teach me, so—”

“That sounds like a date to me.”

“Well…it was not a date. But I did…I kissed him after he insisted on walking me home.”

Magda stopped what she was doing and leaned both hands against the edge of the sink, turning her black eyes to Odessa who stood there fidgeting happily, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The look on her face said a couple things, but her eyes dropped to Odessa’s mouth and she knew Magda was wondering how in the world she kissed someone missing half his face. She was too wise to give voice to the thought, however, and just ended up shaking her head.

“I wish you could see the way you look right now,” Magda sighed. “‘Lovedrunk’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“I am not.”

“Ooohhh, I think you are. I know that look—I’ve had it plenty of times myself. You’ve got a mean crush.”

She wanted to hide. She wanted to curl in on herself and die—not from shame, because she could never be ashamed of Ghoul or of being associated with him. No, it must’ve been so obvious, the way she liked him, if everyone else could tell. If Magda knew, then that meant that everyone else knew, and if everyone else knew, then it was probably common knowledge among their regulars, too. A slow smile took hold of her lips; she couldn’t bite down fast enough to keep it from spreading. Her cheeks ached with the effort of holding it back, so she stopped trying and gave Magda a helpless sort of look.

“I like him,” she admitted, and saying the words out loud to someone else felt like breaking free of a prison she had stuck herself in; she was the jailer, she held the key, but she didn’t even know why she had bothered to lock that part of herself away in the first place.

“I think I could tell,” Magda said, playfully splashing her with soapy water. “I’m guessing he knows, if you kissed him already.”

“Well…he did not say anything about it. I am not sure what he thinks.”

“You should ask him. I’ll bet a mountain of credits he’s just as into you as you are into him.”

Odessa shook her head, setting the last tumbler on the tray and hopping to sit up on the counter. She hadn’t stopped wondering about what he thought about the kiss ever since it happened. The refugee center had been her last chance to ask about it, but after seeing Ghoul through his PTSD episode she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the mood. In that moment, when he had been at his most vulnerable, the most fragile she had ever seen him, it had been more important to support him than chasing after her own selfish desires. She didn’t regret it one bit, even if her imagination kept running wild with what-if scenarios that probably had something to do with her lack of proper sleep.

“I am not sure I want to know,” Odessa admitted, kicking her feet a bit. “What if he is thinking it was not so good? I have only kissed a few people before, but it was very easy for me to be telling how much they liked it. I do not think I am bad at it, either.”

“You probably caught him off guard. I don’t know if you know, but clones don’t get out much, and a lot of them don’t even make it back to Coruscant for leave time. Maybe he’s just inexperienced.”

That was always a possibility, though one Odessa had never considered. She thought about it now, casting her memory back to the way Ghoul had all but frozen when she touched his cheek and stood up on her toes to kiss him, the way he had tensed in a way she could feel through the sudden tightening of his prosthetic jaw. She had thought it was just nerves, but maybe it had been something else.

“Should I ask him?” she wondered aloud. “I like him so much…but I do not want to come across as…pushy. If he does not feel the same way I simply want to know.”

“It can’t hurt,” Magda said, thwipping a towel over her shoulder and slipping her hands into the back pockets of her pants. “He’s pretty quiet—maybe he’s too shy to say anything. Who knows, maybe he thinks it was a one time deal.”

“That is ridiculous. Obviously I would kiss him again.”

“Maybe you should try that instead.”

“Odiiiieee.”

Odessa hung her head and slipped off the counter with a groan, heading back over to where Orion had shaken himself awake again. It was about time to call that transport, whether he liked it or not. Most drivers knew what to do with drunk clones, and she had called enough times that the company usually sent specific ones to help haul the inebriated out of the bar and into the back seat of their skiffs. Orion might complain, but in the end he’d have no choice but to go.

“I have already been lenient with you,” Odessa said as she picked up the empty glass from Orion’s limp hand. “No more drinks tonight. You will go back to base and sleep this off, and when you are sober you may come again and drink to your heart’s content once more. But not tonight.”

“You’re mean too,” Orion grumbled as he swayed in place atop his stool. For a moment she thought he was going to fall off, but his elbows found the edge of the counter and he slumped over again, mumbling beneath his breath.

“I am calling you a ride,” Odessa warned him, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Maybe he did and was purposely ignoring her—it wouldn’t be the first time.

Overhead the skies rumbled again and the gentle patter of rain began to fall. She had left her umbrella at home by accident and didn’t have the credits to spare for a transport; it wasn’t a long walk to her apartment, but she was sure she’d be soaked by the time she made it back. Resigning herself to an uncomfortable journey home, Odessa dropped Orion’s cup off at the sink and then made her way to the back office to make another call to the transport company. The door chimed again and this time she steeled herself, didn’t bother turning around because what was the point? Whether it was someone coming or going, it didn’t matter if it wasn’t him.

“Odie!” Magda said in a fierce whisper, slamming both hands down on her shoulders so fast she yelped. “I’ll take care of the call. You hang out here and just…do your thing. Look cute. Serve drinks.”

“It is far past last call,” Odessa grumbled. “There are no drinks to be serving.”

“Oh, I think you’ll bend the rules for this one too.”

Confused, Odessa let Magda turn her around and stood rooted to the spot as the older woman licked her thumb and ran it over both her eyebrows, smoothing them down. She gave her a once over and then beamed at her, the rounds of her cheeks practically glowing with satisfaction.

“Be nice to our last customer of the day,” she said, then disappeared into the back room with a quickness that belied her age.

“I am not serving more drinks,” Odessa muttered to herself as she turned back to the bar, scanning the empty seats to see if one of them had been filled, but there was only Orion. For a moment she thought she must have been hearing things, and that Magda was pulling a prank or something. The door must have chimed though, she heard the notification so clearly and she had been listening for it so often these past few weeks she knew what it sounded like. It couldn’t have been her imagination.

Just when she was about to chalk it all up to a lack of sleep finally driving her over the edge of crazy, Odessa heard a noise like someone clearing their throat, or trying to, followed by a sharp tapping on the counter. She turned around a little too quickly, not trusting the way her heart immediately ran up to stick in her throat, but there, at his usual stool at the very end of the counter against the wall, stood Ghoul.

He held his helmet under his arm and seemed to be out of breath from the way his chest heaved, and water streaked his armor like he had just ran all the way there from the military base. He was handsome, so handsome it was almost unfair and he looked at her with an expression she had never seen him wear before—it was almost like…almost like relief. Odessa didn’t even try to restrain her lekku from twitching, the ends curling upward, back and forth like a pleased tooka. 

“Is it too late for a drink?” Ghoul asked, tapping the counter again, the sound of his raspy voice causing a smile to break out across her face.

“No,” she managed to say without her voice cracking, “not for you, never.”

Magda had been right—she didn’t mind breaking the rules if Ghoul was somehow involved, and as he sat down and made himself comfortable she hurriedly grabbed a clean glass and the nearly empty bottle of Catsblood from the shelf. There wasn’t enough left to overpour, as she tended to do for him, but she emptied the bottle anyway. She could scarcely stop her hand from shaking, but she was too excited. The sight of him had all but stolen her breath away, her entire body buzzing with the sudden rush of adrenaline that made her feel like she could do anything. 

There were a hundred different things she wanted to say to him, questions she wanted to ask just for the sake of knowing him more intimately, but her mouth felt strangely dry when she thought about giving voice to any of them. He had returned to Coruscant and, apparently, came straight to 79’s, but she didn’t know how to take it. Was it really to see her…or did he just want a drink to unwind after another stressful mission? Odessa thought that maybe she was overthinking things…but the alternative, considering that he actually might…think of her the way she thought of him, and feel the same way she felt…it was almost too much.

“Catsblood,” Odessa announced as she set the drink in front of him, though it wasn’t necessary to do so. “Warm, the way you like it.”

Ghoul huffed and she swore she could see the edges of his scarred upper lip twist as though he were attempting a smile. Her heart turned over in her chest at the sight and she longed to kiss him again, to welcome him back properly, the way he deserved. The only thing keeping her from making such a rash decision was the fact that she was still on the clock and there were at least two other sets of eyes that might see such an act of indiscretion. 

“It’s late,” Ghoul said, swirling the Catsblood around before taking a sip. “I’m not messin’ you up, am I? You’re probably trying to close down.”

“It is fine,” Odessa said immediately. “We always stay open for some of our regulars who work late. You are not bothering anyone.”

He looked relieved at that and quickly took another sip, until only a third of the drink remained. Odessa noticed he was drinking faster than he normally did; she had seen him nurse a single glass for a solid hour, enjoying the unique, spicy blend of aromatics Catsblood had to offer. Now it seemed like he was trying to get it down as fast as possible, like he was trying to…bolster his nerves or something. She wished they had another bottle to open, but the new shipment was running late. She had some at home, but….

“How have you been?” Odessa asked, finally forcing herself to act natural and crossing her arms to lean against the counter. “I did not think you would be back so soon. You were barely gone.”

“I just got back,” Ghoul said gruffly. “It was a quick mission. I uh…work solo, most of the time. Makes things easier. I can get in and get the job done faster than an entire unit, and without being noticed.”

“Good. It sounds like your work is very important then.”

He shrugged and looked down at his glass, his fingers tapping the sides as he slowly spun it around.  He had been gone just long enough for his buzzcut to start to grow in. The hairs were still short, but they looked fuzzy and soft. Not for the first time Odessa found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her hand over the top of his head, if that was something he’d enjoy, like Orion, or if he’d spurn her touch. Would it be too familiar, too soon? He used to flinch whenever her hand would come too close, but since then she had touched him a handful of times without incident. 

“I get orders, I follow them,” Ghoul said, his words light but his tone hollow. A sore subject, it seemed. Odessa took a chance and reached over to place her hand on his wrist. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch but she held firm, rubbing her thumb against the exposed patch of skin between his sleeve and his glove. She observed him carefully, her heart stuttering painfully when she saw the synth mesh of his prosthetic throat moving in a way that she recognized as a swallowing motion. If he was uncomfortable, he refused to say anything and made no motion to pull his arm out of her reach. His skin was smooth beneath the pad of her thumb, hot like he had spent hours baking beneath the sun, and she wondered if he felt the same all over.

“I am glad you have returned safely,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “The drink is on me, as promised.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide, searching her face for something. She stared right back, looking at the scars surrounding his eyes and the darker pigmentation that she thought was part of the scarring, but seemed to be…something else. 

“What is it?” she asked with a nervous laugh. She rubbed the heel of her palm over her cheek and glanced to the side, unable to hold his gaze for very long, despite herself. “Do I…do I have a thing on my face?”

“Can I…can I ask you something?” Ghoul said.

Odessa paused, then nodded. Her stomach twisted nervously.

Why? She thought to herself. Why am I so anxious? It’s just a question. He can talk to me. He can ask me anything.

“Of course,” she whispered, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. 

“I…I wanted to ask sooner but I’m not…I’m not good at this kind of thing. I forgot, and then…there never seemed to be a right time. I didn’t want you to think I was…an idiot or–”

“You are not an idiot,” Odessa interrupted, squeezing his wrist. “I would never think that.”

Ghoul clenched his jaw and the hand she was so close to holding curled into a tight fist. She felt the muscles in his forearm straining, but didn’t let go. She found she could look at him so long as he wasn’t looking back, and had a feeling that maybe he felt the same way. Eye contact was…difficult to maintain. She didn’t know why. She wanted to look at him, wanted to stare into his eyes and try to figure out what was going through his head, what thoughts he held that had led him to 79’s right before closing, in the middle of a storm, and immediately after he had just returned from deployment. There were other, more important things he could have chosen to do—sleep, eat, enjoy a bit of peace and quiet—but he decided to come here instead.

“Ask me,” Odessa prompted, sliding the tip of her index finger beneath the edge of his sleeve, just to feel more of his skin. “It is okay. I do not bite.”

Ghoul chuckled and ran his other hand over the top of his head and down the back of his neck, hooking it there while he tried to summon the…the courage, perhaps, to gather his words.

“I just…need to know,” he said after a rough start, “‘cause it’s been botherin’ me since you did it…but that time I walked you home, you–you kissed me an' I haven’t been able to…I don’t understand why. So…I want to know if it was…if you did it because you felt bad for me, or because I’m a clone an' it’s…a novelty or–or if it’s about…this–” he waved his hand vaguely over the front of his face, gesturing to his prosthetic “–or whatever. I just…I need to know, ‘cause I can’t stop thinkin’ about it, an' I’m…tired. I’m tired.”

Odessa stared at him with her lips slightly parted, feeling like the floor had just been yanked out from under her. The only thing keeping her from immediately spiraling, keeping her grounded, was the hold she had on Ghoul’s wrist. He hadn’t moved and still hadn’t tried to pull away; she didn’t know if that was supposed to assuage her sudden feelings of uncertainty, but when she squeezed him again he didn’t flinch or tense, but neither did he look her way. He seemed to be back to avoiding eye contact, the way he had acted the very first time they had met. Odessa tilted her head, trying to catch his eye, but he was very good at focusing on the countertop, like the pattern in the polished surface was so much more interesting.

“You…you think I would kiss you out of…pity?” she asked, after drawing a deep breath. The insinuation hurt, a sharp little blade nestled at the edge of her heart, threatening to pierce her through and bleed her out. “You think I would kiss you because…it is a joke? That it is funny to me?”

Ghoul shrugged again, the movement a little more aggressive than before. Odessa recognized the barely restrained hostility for what it was, a defense mechanism to steel himself against perceived rejection, or disappointment. He didn’t want to look at her, but why? What was suddenly so terrifying that he couldn’t face it?

All the time she had spent wondering whether or not he had enjoyed the kiss felt like a waste in the face of the realization that he had spent the same amount of time wondering if she had kissed him as some kind of cruel prank. Magda’s words played back in her head, about the way clones never expected to be treated as anything other than tools of warfare; she should have known Ghoul might’ve held those same beliefs, or at the very least had experienced little kindness to indicate the kiss could have meant anything other than…morbid curiosity. Odessa wanted to be angry that he thought so little of her that he could think she’d do something like that, so selfishly, and for no reason at all….

But instead she took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to think of the way she had felt when her father forced her onto the one way transport to Coruscant, the way he had looked at her and told her that he didn’t need her to forgive him but he hoped one day she might, that this was for her own good. She had tried so hard to understand his position, tried so very hard to put herself in his place. She didn’t know if she would have made the same choices as he had…but she wanted to believe that she was, at the very least, capable of empathizing with his decision.

If she could put aside her own hurt feelings for her father’s sake, then she could do the same for Ghoul. 

He wasn’t trying to pick a fight…he wasn’t trying to insult her. He…he was protecting himself. She could see that, the way he guarded himself so carefully, refusing to let anyone close or give anything of himself away…but he had done so for her. It had taken time, but he had allowed her to slip closer, to know a part of himself that he kept hidden from the rest of the world. 

It was the person he became when he was with Commanders Wolffe and Fox, the man who knew how to crack a joke and offer up a smile. It was who he became when he was teaching her the proper way to hold a blaster, confident and filled with energy because he knew what he was talking about and though he had said he wasn’t much of a teacher, Odessa knew it was a lie because he taught her. It was the way he had looked in the back alley of the refugee center, hyperventilating and crying but still so strong in spite of the tragedies he must have suffered, and the way he was still so kind as to offer her a listening ear when she told him about her mother.

“Ghoul,” Odessa said, leaning further against the counter until the edge dug into her stomach, “will you…will you look at me? Please?”

At first she didn’t think he would. He seemed determined to keep his eyes on everything but her and kept staring stubbornly at his drink…but then he twitched and slowly, very slowly turned his head. He didn’t meet her gaze, but she thought she saw him fixate on her shoulder and that…that was good enough. If that was as close to his attention as she could get, then she’d have to take it.

“I do not know how to make you believe me,” she said, hoping against hope she wasn’t about to destroy the very fragile trust he had given her. “I do not pretend to understand why it is you think this way, but I promise—I promise that I did not kiss you for any other reason than because I very much wanted to.”

He exhaled harshly, his brows knitting together like he didn’t believe her. 

“But why?” he asked, his voice rough, anger lacing his tone. “Why would you wanna kiss me?”

“Because I like you,” Odessa said firmly, despite the way she wanted to get up and bolt. She had never been questioned so bluntly before; it was like he lacked all social awareness and experience to know that…people kissed because they wanted to, because of attraction, or lust, or to tease and seduce. It would have been charming were it not for the implications—had he been anyone else, his confusion might have even been cute.

“What’s there t’ like?” Ghoul shot back. “You don’t know me.”

“I have been trying to know you,” Odessa insisted. “I have been trying to know you from the first day you walked in here. And do you know what? You are not as terrible a person as you would have everyone think. I think you are…so interesting. You are harsh and cold but you also care a lot—we were still strangers and you walked me to Rollo’s. You taught me to shoot a blaster! You agree to help me even though there is nothing in it for you. So yes, I think you are a likable man, no matter what you say. And I kissed you because I wanted to—because you are kind and gentle in spite of things that could have made you cruel.”

Odessa took a deep breath to calm her nerves and then slowly took her hand off Ghoul’s wrist to touch his chin; he jerked away from her instinctively, his eyes snapping to hers in an instant and a look of shock taking over the entirety of his range of expression. She shook her head and slid her hand along his jaw, holding firm, pressing her palm to the prosthetic and letting the tips of her fingers rest against the edge where warm skin met with metal.

“I kissed you because I like you,” she said, taking advantage of having his full attention. “I am attracted to you…no matter what you think, no matter what you might say to try and prove otherwise, that is the truth.”

Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do if he decided her confession wasn’t enough of a good reason to stick around. Or, worse, maybe it was too much for him to accept so suddenly. It wasn’t as though she had planned on admitting her feelings—not like this, at any rate. She would have preferred…a more private setting, somewhere more intimate, so they could talk properly. She didn’t want there to be any confusion between them. She didn’t want to leave him with any lingering doubts about how she truly felt, even if she was still trying to figure out how deep those feelings ran. 

Ghoul didn’t move at all, didn’t give any sign that her words had reached him, apart from the way he closed his eyes, squeezing them hard until she could see him straining with the effort. Odessa desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, wanted to peel apart his skull until his thoughts were revealed to her. Patience had always been a virtue of hers…until now when it felt like she would come right out of her skin if he wouldn’t hurry up and say something. 

Patience, she told herself. Give him time. Let him think.

She ran her thumb back and forth against his cheek, wondering if he was able to feel her touch, or if it was just a strange sort of pressure. It didn't seem to upset him, whatever the case, until she dared to touch the soft skin of his upper lip—his eyes flew open and he looked at her with…with so much hurt, so much pain that she didn't know how to react to it. She didn't even know cybernetic eyes could be so expressive.

"I would kiss you again," she said, trying to alleviate the sudden tension. "I have thought about it many times since. Always wondering if you liked it, if it compared…I wanted to ask about it too."

She felt the synth-mesh flex beneath her hand and watched as Ghoul inhaled sharply, his shoulders rising with the motion. Up so close she could see what she thought to be discolored skin was actually faded warpaint. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many ways she wanted to know him, so much he was holding back.

Patience. Have patience.

"There's…there's nothin' to compare," Ghoul finally spoke, his voice little more than a strained whisper. "You…you were my first kiss."

Odessa felt something in her chest break wide open, like a dam holding back too much water finally giving way. She smiled, blinking back tears that formed suddenly at the corners of her eyes.

"I wish I had known," she whispered back. "I would have made sure to make it more memorable."

The roar of thunder outside shook the windows and seeped into her bones. The neon bar lights dimmed then brightened again with a low buzz and she heard Magda open the door to the backroom, probably to come check on them. Odessa stroked her thumb along Ghoul’s lip again, watching the way his breath hitched with the gesture. She didn’t want this moment to end…but 79’s was neither the time nor the place.

Invite him back to your apartment, her inner voice spoke up. You wanted to before. Now’s the perfect opportunity. You can be alone, you can talk…and who knows?

It was an idea. She didn’t know if he’d accept, but…she’d never know if she never asked. Her lekku twitched and she cleared her throat, trying to think of the best way to ask him over without sounding too much like she was propositioning him.

“Ghoul–”

“Hey,” another voice interrupted, “how come he gets a drink?”

Odessa didn’t have time to look before someone ran into her shoulder, almost upsetting her balance and sending her to the floor. Ghoul jumped to his feet, cursing in a language Odessa had never heard before as the rest of his drink spilled across the counter and floor as Orion made a drunken grab for it, the tumbler slipping from his grasp. The sound of shattering glass only meant one more mess to clean up, but Orion groaned and slammed his fist against the countertop like someone else caused it.

“You owe me another one!” Orion slurred, pointing his finger in Odessa’s face. 

“You are drunk,” Odessa snapped, feeling the last threads of her patience disappear. “I cut you off hours ago, and this is why! You are a lightweight, and you need to go home!”

Orion’s face twisted into a frightening expression, one filled with anger and loathing. He made a move like he intended to climb over the counter to get to her, but he barely had time to haul himself up over the edge before Ghoul grabbed hold of his jacket and threw him back against the floor. He made it look so easy, like it was nothing to toss another fully grown man around…but Orion was so inebriated, and Ghoul was so strong that the few fearful steps back she had taken felt so unnecessary now.

“What th’ kark’s your problem?!” Ghoul barked, sounding more like the Commander he was than she had ever heard before. “You got ears? She told you to fuck off!”

Orion scrambled to his feet, surprisingly quick—maybe it had something to do with being a clone and bred for war, that their tolerance for alcohol meant that even complete intoxication couldn’t render them completely helpless—and swung at Ghoul with a wild punch that missed its mark by a mile. For a moment Odessa feared a repeat of the time Ghoul had defended her from the three Academy men; he grabbed Orion by the arm and by the scruff of his neck and drove him back against thee countertop, slamming his head against the surface and mopping up the spilled Catsblood with his cheek.

“Apologize,” Ghoul hissed, sneering as he easily held Orion down. 

“Get off me, you freak!” Orion gasped, blood spurting from his nose from the collision. 

“Do it, or I’ll break your arm,” Ghoul warned, twisting the offending appendage back until Orion yelped in pain.

“Wait,” Odessa gasped, “let him go, please, it is not–”

“What the hell is goin’ on out here?!” Magda yelled, storming out of the backroom amid all the commotion. Odessa froze, but Ghoul only scoffed and proceeded to twist Orion’s arm further.

“Apologize,” he commanded, and something cracked  before Orion frantically smacked the table with his other hand.

“Okay, okay!” he cried, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Let me go, you sick bastard!”

“Not to me,” Ghoul snarled, shoving against Orion viciously. “To her. You apologize to her.”

Odessa stared as Orion twisted to look up at her, blood painting the crevices between his teeth and smearing against the lower half of his face as he continued to struggle. She didn’t want to claim the feeling that filled her, a smug sort of satisfaction that almost made her feel sick to her stomach…and yet she was glad Ghoul had put a stop to Orion’s nonsense so quickly. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, blinking rapidly as his eyes started to water, either from actual shame or from the pain Ghoul was currently inflicting on him. “I’m sorry, Odie, I didn’t mean it….”

She nodded at him, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t know what her voice would sound like in that moment…if she’d be able to keep it together long enough to administer an actual scolding. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Magda said, flapping her hands at Ghoul to ward him away. He gave Orion one last shove, making him yelp again before finally backing off and grabbing up his helmet. Orion groaned, sinking down to the floor as he cradled his arm, leaving behind a neat smear of blood on the countertop. Magda sighed, pressing her fingers into her temples and rubbing tight little circles. 

“You sure know how to cause trouble,” she muttered, eyeballing Ghoul with a glare that wasn’t nearly as malicious as Odessa was used to seeing her bestow on those unfortunate to incur her wrath.

He shrugged, but didn’t look at all remorseful. That wasn’t a surprise, but the way he muttered an insincere ‘sorry’ and headed for the door was. Odessa thought about the cameras, the video feed that would live on the security terminal as a testament to the night’s events. She thought about how quickly Ghoul had fled the scene the last time he had resorted to violence, how she had insisted he go because she couldn’t bear the thought that he might get into trouble for defending her.

Of course he would have to leave now to avoid a similar fate, especially if Orion turned out to be the kind of man who would turn a fellow soldier in for wounding his pride. Already she was planning on how best to disrupt the data, make it look like another accident; at least this time she had the excuse of the storm and could blame the lost footage on a brownout. She could almost ignore the way her stomach clenched seeing him go without so much as a backwards glance, like the moment they had shared moments ago didn’t mean anything. 

He was so strange. Wonderful, but strange—she wanted to shout after him, tell him to come back, to wait, at least, until she could finish cleaning up. He had only just arrived and though they didn’t have any more Catsblood she was sure she could find something similar among their stock. She just…she didn’t want to see him go so soon after arriving. There were…still so many things she wanted to say to him. 

“Odie?”

Magda snapped her fingers and Odessa jumped, unaware that she had spaced out. She looked up sheepishly, then grabbed a towel from beneath the counter.

“Sorry,” she said, “I will clean up the mess.”

“Hold on now,” Magda said, stopping her with a warm hand to her shoulder. “I think…I think it might be a good idea if you go ahead and head home.”

“But–”

“No buts. This young man needs someone to talk to for a bit, until his ride gets here. Let me take care of him, try to sober him up, and convince him that this was all just a big misunderstanding. You…should go after your friend.”

Magda tossed her head toward the door, where Ghoul stood contemplating his helmet before jamming it down over his head. 

“But…the mess,” Odessa tried to protest as she kept her eyes glued on him, wondering why he hadn’t left yet. Normally he didn’t hesitate.

“I can handle a broken glass and a little bit of blood. You can make it up to me later, if you want, but right now you should go.”

Go where? Back to her apartment? With Ghoul?

Invite him in, her inner voice squeaked, annoying and incessant, like she hadn’t been ready to before Orion interrupted them.

“You are sure?” she asked one last time, already trying to push aside the guilt that rose up for even considering abandoning Magda to the annoying task of closing up the bar by herself. 

“I’m sure. No go on—get.”

Odessa didn’t waste another second, grabbing her backpack from where she had stuffed it under the counter earlier in anticipation of leaving and then ran toward the door where Ghoul still stood, his expressionless helmet turned in her direction, like he had been waiting for her the whole time. Odessa pulled one of her lekku over her shoulder, holding it self-consciously as she approached. 

“Thought you had to close,” Ghoul said the moment she was near. His voice sounded normal again, all of the vitriol from before having bled out. 

“Change of plans,” Odessa said. “Will you…walk me home?”

He tilted his head to the side and then pushed the door open, just enough for Odessa to see that the rain had picked up again, practically flooding the walkways as rivulets ran down the storm drains. 

“It’s wet out,” he said, like it wasn’t obvious. “We’ll have to run.”

“I do not mind. We can both dry off at my place.”

The unspoken hung in the air between them, heavy with the implication that she expected him to come inside her apartment. Ghoul's helmet protected his expression from scrutiny, but Odessa was quickly becoming adept at reading his other little tics, like the nervous way he fanned his fingers out before resting his hand on his blaster holster—he hadn't even bothered to leave the weapon at his barracks, like clones were supposed to when on leave. He must have gotten off the transport ship and immediately made his way to the bar, she realized. 

"You…you sure you wanna be seen with a clone like that?" Ghoul asked. "Someone might see. People talk…word gets around."

Boldly, Odessa reached up and touched the tips of her fingers to the ventilation filters of his helmet, tracing the circular ends and hoping it wasn’t her imagination making her think she heard his breath catch through his vocalizer.

"I am not ashamed of you," she said, looking directly into his visor. Then, before he could try to dissuade her after her mind was already made up, Odessa pushed past him into the downpour. 

Almost immediately she was drenched, her clothes sticking uncomfortably to her skin and the rain tickling as it ran in rivulets down her lekku. She tilted her face up, closing her eyes and taking a moment to ground herself in the rare show of nature's power. Coruscant was nothing like Ryloth—the entire planet was a construct, all metal and stone. Anything living had long been choked out by the suffocating press of innovation and progress. 

But the rain…nothing could stop the rain.

No turning back now.

"Are you coming?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Ghoul looked up at the night sky, at the skyscrapers towering so far above them there was no way to see where they ended. The neon lights lining the walkways bled into a multicolored haze as the humidity increased and steam rose from vents leading to the lower levels. After a moment, he stepped out into the rain as well.

"Lead the way," he said with a curt nod. 

Odessa smiled and seized his hand, pulling hard as she took off. She felt him stumble on the first step, but he easily fell into a steady jog as she began to run. She had a feeling he was more than capable of outpacing her, but for whatever reason he didn't, and she squeezed his hand as hard as she could, unable to hold back the insane amount of affection she felt for him in that moment.

She’d find a way to kiss him again, if she could. She’d sit him on her little couch and tell him all the things she meant to and she’d make sure he knew where she stood in regards to how she felt about him. She would touch his face until he didn’t feel the need to flinch at the contact and she’d let him ask her anything his heart desired.

Life is too short for regrets, she thought to herself as rain pelted against her face. I don't want any more. This time…I'll be selfish.

~~~

Coruscant rain was cold. 

Not even his blacks, which were specifically made to protect against the elements in a variety of atmospheric conditions, could keep out the chill that seeped into his bones as he ran through the winding, interconnected walkways of the mid-levels. Any other time he would have cursed his luck and tried to wait out the rain…but this time he couldn't.

He didn't want to, if it meant letting go of Odessa's hand. 

The prosthetic didn't feel the way flesh did; through the glove he felt even less, just the pressure from the way she squeezed and pulled. He had panicked the moment she had grabbed him—if only he had been quick enough to offer her his left hand, but he focused instead on relaxing the servos in his arm that controlled his grip strength and slowing his stride so he wouldn't overtake Odessa. He'd die if he hurt her, even accidentally. 

Whatever his initial intentions had been in visiting 79's so late at night (to see her, what other reason was there when he could barely taste the drinks anyway?), Ghoul hadn't expected things to turn out the way they had, nor was he sorry for any of it. 

All he had thought about the entire time he had been deployed was how good it would feel to see her again. He had still been able to focus on his mission on Balmorra, extracting a high ranking official with minimal casualties, but Odessa lingered on the edge of his mind the entire time. He could close his eyes and picture her almost perfectly, from the way she'd smile to the charming way her lekku moved independently of each other whenever she was excited. If he tried hard enough he could almost imagine the lilt of her voice and the accented way she said his name. 

It was sometime during the return to Coruscant, while he was plugged into a datapad listening to a video explaining the grammatical basics of Ryl, that he realized he must have…fallen for her, unintentionally. Six months ago he would have laughed at the idea of caring about anyone aside from Wolffe and Fox, but there he was, trying to learn a new language in the hopes of being able to understand her just a little bit better, the way she seemed to effortlessly understand him.

The revelation distracted Ghoul from everything else. All he could think about was seeing her again and had almost sent her a comm saying he'd be back soon, but a ridiculous idea took root instead, that he could surprise her at 79's and then he'd be able to watch the way her face lit up with happiness when she saw him. She would be happy, he was sure of that even if he still didn't understand why. He just knew that her eyes grew wide and bright and her smile could light up an entire room like she carried the force of the sun beneath her skin. It made him feel good, like…like it mattered to someone else that he didn't die out there in the field.

If she was waiting for him…then he had a reason to keep coming back, if only to keep her from disappointment.

"Finally," Odessa exclaimed, releasing Ghoul's hand to point at her apartment building. "Ugh, I will be glad to be inside and out of this rain."

He didn't say anything, just followed her up the three-tiered staircase where the covered balcony offered them shelter; not that it mattered, with the way the wind had started to blow in the last ten minutes. A misty spray hovered in the air, ensuring they wouldn't escape the weather until they were inside—which brought Ghoul to his next dilemma.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked as he watched Odessa punch in a code on the numerical keypad next to her apartment door. The lock disengaged and she pushed the door open, pausing only to give him a reproachful look before stepping inside.

"I already said it is fine," she said. "What are you so nervous for?"

If only you knew, he wanted to say.

He had never been inside someone’s personal dwelling. For clones it was GAR-issued barracks or the cold, hard ground, whatever came first. He had walked through every floor of the Senate buildings, explored caves, swampy huts made of wood and mud, opulent palaces that made him want to wretch, trekked across arid deserts until he thought he’d drown in his own sweat, but he had never once set foot inside a civilian’s home before….and somehow the prospect of entering Odessa’s little apartment seemed more daunting than any one of the dangerous missions he had been on.

She held the door open for him, staring expectantly and waiting for him to follow, but Ghoul couldn't make himself take that first step over the threshold. He tried to look past her, but even his helmet’s sensors couldn’t make out what was inside the dark room and he fought down the urge to lick his lip, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good. The inside of his mouth was dry, as usual, and his tongue didn't work like it used to. 

"You will catch cold if you stay out here," Odessa said; she smiled but he recognized her tone as a teasing one—for some reason it soothed his nerves, just enough for him to feel like maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. She pushed the door open a little further and jerked her head toward the darkened interior.

"Come inside," she said. "Just for a little bit, until the rain is stopped."

She wanted him to come in. She meant it when she said she wasn't ashamed of him, even though anyone could look out a window and see him darkening her doorstep. Clones weren't meant to fraternize with anyone—it was the most wildly disregarded rule throughout the GAR and everyone knew it as this unspoken thing; not one brother would dare turn in another for having a bit of fun during leave…but anyone could blow the whistle and jeopardize his status. 

Or hers. 

He had no faith left in the system; the powers that be could slap her with an obstruction of duty charge and ship her back to Ryloth faster than it'd take to file the form in triplicate. But maybe…maybe the risk made this act of defiance all the more worth it.

When have you ever needed a reason, he asked himself, before finally summoning the spine to push past her. Odessa closed the door behind them, plunging the room into total darkness until a light in the corner flickered on.

The reveal was…painfully underwhelming. More than the bunks the GAR provided, but smaller than he had expected for a civilian able to live on their own. What amounted to a sitting room with a squat, two-person couch and a few sparsely decorated shelving units connected with a kitchenette—a generous term for the half-sized chiller and limited counter space—and then at the back was a doorway leading to what he could only assume was Odessa's bedroom. From where he stood he could only just see the corner of a bed, neatly made with the sheets tucked regulation tight.

Ghoul removed his helmet and caught his first whiff of a sweet, cloying scent he immediately recognized as a type of flower that only grew on Ryloth—fragile, yellow buds that didn't petal, but clung fiercely to the rock faces near caves and rivers. Despite their miniscule size they were intensely aromatic and surprisingly tenacious; looking around he caught sight of a round pot by the only window, with the familiar, vine-like plant already climbing up over the sides. Fitting, that Odessa would have found a way to make it take root on Coruscant.

"I am going to get out of these wet clothes," she said, disrupting his train of thought. Odessa dropped her bag onto the floor and balanced on one foot then the other to remove her boots. Ghoul tried not to pay attention to the way her white shirt clung her skin, practically translucent and leaving very little to the imagination. Instead, he swallowed and focused on the furthest wall, where she had decorated the limited space with a poster—too late, he realized it was the target from the range, neatly pinned so there was no mistaking her awful, barely acceptable shot versus the perfect three he had made. The sight of it made his stomach clench.

Why would she keep it?

"I do not have anything for you to change into" Odessa continued, oblivious to Ghoul's plight. "Nothing in your size, at least."

"Don't need 'em," Ghoul said, still staring at the target. "The blacks dry fast. Just need ten minutes or so."

"You will stay longer, I hope," she said, looking up at him. "Maybe…maybe you could remove your armor? It will be helping you dry faster."

Ghoul stiffened at the thought. Of course, it made sense—he couldn't stand there in her foyer, dripping water and making a mess all night long. De-kitting was something of a ritual, though, one he took care to follow to the letter every night before lights out. On missions, he slept in full gear because removing it when conditions were unpredictable was tantamount to suicide. The idea of being without it, just existing in his sleeve with nothing to protect him, or shield him was…was….

You're not on a mission, his inner voice snapped. Get a hold of yourself. Nothin' here's gonna hurt you. It's her home. Act normal for once.

"It takes up a lot of space," Ghoul said, his voice hoarse. "I don't wanna make a mess."

"I am not minding," Odessa replied, lifting her delicate shoulders in a shrug. She was already halfway to her bedroom before he could offer up another excuse. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I will be out shortly."

Comfortable, he thought as the click of her door sealed his fate. I've never been comfortable outside of my kit.

But if…if she came back out and saw that he hadn't moved, that he still stood there, sopping wet and awkward, would she regret inviting him in? Outside the wind howled, heralding another wave of the storm. If he planned on just waiting it out…he'd be waiting a very long time.

"Kriffing hells," Ghoul cursed under his breath as he quickly set his helmet on the floor and knelt beside it to undo the hidden clasp on his greaves. 

Breaking down the armor normally took the better part of an hour, when done right. He liked to check every piece over for damage so he could put in a maintenance request before his next deployment, and buff out any glaring scuffs or stains. It was almost therapeutic…but he didn't bother with any part of his usual routine. He stripped expertly in just a few minutes, stacking every piece in a neat, orderly pile on top of his folded kama. 

The feel of rough carpet beneath his bare feet was…strange. He didn't want to say 'uncomfortable', because it wasn't that…but neither was it wholly pleasant. Maybe it was because of how vulnerable he felt, wearing just his blacks, how utterly self-conscious he was of the way he looked when there was nothing else to distract from his ruined face. Most people tended to check out the armor first…but Odessa wasn't 'most people'.

You will find out for yourself, if you like.

He recalled those words she had said to him months ago (had it really been so short a time?), the way he had been so frustrated with her naivete; he hadn't understood what she meant, then, but now…now he realized how stubborn he had been, blinded by his own misconceptions about civilians going about their lives in blissful ignorance, totally oblivious to the realities of war. He hated them because of the way they looked at him when they saw what was done to his face, the looks of shock and disgust…he hated them.

But Odessa, she had never…he couldn't recall a single time, not once, when she had ever looked at him like he was anything other than a man—just a man and not the sorry result of collateral damage of intergalactic corporate warfare. And now there he was, dressed down to his blacks, waterlogged and barefoot in her humble living room, looking around her decor like he was trying to piece together enough clues to reveal the secret to how she could be so damn bewitching. 

She was driving him crazy…that was the only explanation for how he had wound up there, so deeply out of his element he scarcely recognized himself. It was like his entire sense of self, the persona he had spent the last year and a half cultivating to keep people away, disintegrated whenever she so much as smiled in his direction. She said his name and he felt weak in his knees. There was something…something defective in him, if he could be affected like that. It shouldn't be possible.

"Ghoul?"

But it was.

He looked up and immediately wanted to die. She was so pretty—so pretty he didn't know why she wanted to be seen with him. She had changed out of her wet clothes but what she wore as a replacement was somehow worse, just a long shirt that fell to mid-thigh and hung dangerously off her shoulder. He didn't even know what color it was, because the sight of all that pretty green skin was distracting. 

“I tried not to get anything wet,” he said, gesturing at his armor. “Tried to keep it neat.”

“I already said I do not mind,” Odessa said, going straight to her tiny kitchen area. She stood on her toes to rummage through one of the cabinets and as Ghoul watched, the shirt she wore rode up the back of her thighs until it only just barely covered her rear. He tried not to stare. He tried not to but it was so hard. She had told him she’d kiss him again and now, with her dressed like that, so casual and carefree even though she was alone with a strange man in her home, he couldn’t help but wonder if…if more kissing was what she originally had in mind when bringing him here.

“I feel bad you did not get to finish your drink. I hope you are not minding if I make you another?”

“Uh…no,” Ghoul said, memorizing the way the curve of her calves gave way to slender little ankles and petite feet.

“I admit, I bought this a few months back,” Odessa admitted, pulling down a new bottle of Catsblood, practically half the size stocked by 79’s. “I…suppose I was hoping for a chance to invite you over. I thought if I had the drink on hand, it would give me the courage to ask. Silly of me, is it not?”

“No. I…you’re not. Silly. You’re not silly. Clones don’t…we don’t usually get invited places. I never expected it. This is my first time being in someone’s home.”

“And what do you think about it?,” Odessa asked, turning around with a glass, filled halfway this time to just a little over what he had left before that other idiot clone spilled it everywhere. She held out the glass and smiled, her eyes bright and twinkling even in the low light. Ghoul reached out blindly, fixated on the curve of her lips. 

“It’s smaller than I expected,” he said bluntly. “It feels…kinda empty.”

Odessa laughed a little. 

“Coruscant is being very expensive for one person,” she said. “I came here with a single bag filled with clothing. Everything I have had to provide for myself, so I collect things I am needing little by little, when there are credits to spare.”

“...are you happy?”

“I like to think so. Will you sit down?” she asked, gesturing toward her couch; it was cramped, barely enough room for two people, maybe three if they were all as petite as her, but Ghoul nodded and turned an about face before he could ruin the moment with thoughts about how damp his blacks still were and how he didn’t want to damage any of her things because she didn’t have all that much. He held onto the glass tightly, the warm scent of Catsblood drifting up in his face and tickling the inside of his nose with its cloying spice.

The couch was more comfortable than he expected, soft with deep cushions that belied its size. He felt like he could sink down into them and possibly fall asleep—all the aches he had collected in the past few weeks chose now to remind him of the abuse he put his body through for the sake of his mission and he couldn’t help but relax. Odessa dropped down next to him, curling her legs and tucking them beneath her so she could face him.

“How is the taste?” she asked as he sipped at his drink. “It is warm enough for you?”

Ghoul frowned, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and trying to focus on the faint tinge of spice that usually made Catsblood worth it. His throat worked up and down but it was useless—there was just the good and familiar warmth that burned on the way down, and the scent of spice clinging to his upper lip. He could lie to her and just say it was fine so she wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong…but for some reason the thought of lying to her didn’t sit right with him…like he’d be…disrespecting her, after the way she had treated him so kindly thus far.

I owe her the truth, he thought to himself. She deserves that much.

“I…I can’t taste,” he admitted, looking down at his lap. “I haven’t since…since they replaced, uh…everything.”

Odessa’s hand flew to her mouth, a few fingers pressing against her lips. Her eyes went wide and her expression betrayed horror and shock—Ghoul curled his upper lip in a sneer, instinctively turning his body away, trying to shield himself from the inevitable, but she didn’t let him get very far. 

“I am so sorry,” she said, her eyebrows knitting together. “I did not know—did not think…it is so terrible of me, I should be more observant. I did not mean to be bringing up something so sensitive.”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking,” he said gruffly, not really wanting to go into detail but seeing no other way around it. “It’s fine. I…Catsblood is the only thing I come close to tasting. It’s…strong. The spice, I mean. It burns going down and I can feel that, at least. It’s…close enough.”

“No, it is not,” Odessa said, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched, but it was too late to pull away; her hand rested upon the forearm of his prosthetic and though he couldn’t feel anything, he saw her squeeze and the way her face changed again, immediately shifting into an expression of confusion. Ghoul felt his stomach roll over, like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t taste bile at the back of his throat but he suddenly found it hard to swallow and fought back the urge to just get up.

This was it, the moment where she’d find out exactly how damaged he was and decide that he wasn’t worth the effort of whatever it was she had planned for them. It was inevitable—who could want someone missing so much, someone who couldn’t enjoy even the most trivial things that so many people took for granted, who couldn’t enjoy the taste of good food or the touch of soft skin? Combined with his looks, he had nothing to offer, nothing but baggage.

“Prosthetic,” he choked out when Odessa squeezed his arm again. “Can’t feel anything, so…y’know.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching, wondering. Still confused, but more curious now. He didn’t know what she was thinking and wished she’d just say something instead of just…staring like that. He hated it when people stared…but…she wasn’t people.

“I never knew,” Odessa said, shuffling on her knees closer. She slid her hand down the length of his arm to his wrist, then to the separation between sleeve and glove. “You are very gentle…I truly had no idea. May I…may I see?”

“Why?” Ghoul asked, feeling like he was being suffocated from within. 

“...because I like you, and I want to…to know you more. I want to know all the things about you…the good and the bad.”

Her fingers toyed with the tips of his gloves and when she gathered the fabric between a pinched thumb and forefinger, he didn’t stop her. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have, but she started to pull and he found that he desperately, desperately wanted to believe that she could look at the ugliest parts of him and see something still worthy of receiving her gentle affection. She had held his hand so firmly while they ran through the rain and she didn’t show any sign of being put off now, even though she had to know…she had to know it wasn’t pretty.

He watched, feeling like he was outside of his own body as Odessa methodically tugged off his glove, dropping it to the floor where it lay forgotten the instant she slid her fingers between his, turning his hand over and staring at the black plating that protected the delicate wiring, circuitry, and mechanics within. He offered up no resistance, holding his breath as she took hold of one of the fingers and pushed it toward the center of his palm. His range of motion was perfect—apart from being unable to feel anything, the prosthetic functioned almost exactly as the arm he had lost.

“It is remarkable,” Odessa said, pushing back his sleeve to look at the wrist joint. “I have never seen something crafted so expertly. How…how much is–”

“Here,” Ghoul croaked, gesturing to a spot just above his elbow before she could finish her question.

“I see…does it still hurt?”

“...not usually. I…sometimes there’s…phantom pains. Like I can feel my arm again, even though it’s…not there.”

“...is there more?”

He swallowed. It seemed like Odessa wasn’t going to rest until she had peeled him apart and stuck him under a microscope. She was so curious—nosey, his inner voice seethed—but the way she asked for his permission was so gentle, so sweet that he couldn’t refuse. She didn’t ogle with the intention of making a spectacle out of him, nor was her careful touch anything like the clinical and impersonal way doctors performed their physical examinations.

For the first time in his life, Ghoul felt like…like he was being looked at like a person, and not just…not just a thing they had kept alive because some half-disgraced Jedi demanded it.

His mouth went dry and he pulled his hand out of hers to set down his unfinished glass of Catsblood before peeling off his other glove; that, too, was discarded to the floor, and he held his other hand back out for her inspection, eager, this time, to feel her touch with what was left of his hand.

“Fingers,” he said, fixating on her face. Pretty, she was so pretty. He liked the shape of her mouth, the fullness of her lips. He wanted to kiss her too, he realized, and wondered how he should go about making that happen. Odessa didn’t seem to notice his stare, thankfully, and held onto his hand, tracing the grafting that separated the prosthetic from the rest of him. He was missing his thumb, fore and middle fingers, but she focused on his remaining two, touching them firmly and feeling the shape of them. Her hand was so warm, her skin so soft that a shiver worked its way up Ghoul’s spine and he hoped and prayed to gods from cultures he didn’t belong to that she wouldn’t stop…not yet.

“You have been through so much,” Odessa observed, her voice low and warm as she held his hand in her lap. “I cannot imagine life has been very kind to you…and yet you are still here, continuing on in spite of everything. You are very remarkable, do you know that?”

“I’m a soldier,” Ghoul corrected her, not knowing what she meant by ‘remarkable’. He was engineered to survive, made of sturdier stuff than most because that was how the longnecks had designed clones to be. Nothing remarkable about genetic manipulation. It was just science.

“You are more than that,” she insisted, looking up at him again. “You are much more than what you were made for. I am not needing to know the details of what happened to know you are a survivor.”

“Surviving is what we do,” he said, the words hollow, meaningless, things he heard repeated thousands of times while in training on Kamino. He used to take so much pride in being a clone—’built to last’, they used to joke—but now there were times when he wished he hadn’t and it was…it was confusing, because being with her and hearing her say the same things he used to tell his men and himself…it was reigniting that pride he had buried long ago and he didn’t…he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Not everyone is capable,” Odessa whispered. “Can I…touch your face?”

He didn’t ask why this time, just nodded and leaned in. He watched as she slid her fingers along his jaw, tracing the edges of the prosthetic to the point of his chin. 

“You feel nothing at all?” she asked.

“No. Just…sensors for heat, cold, pressure…it’s very basic. Helps me eat. Keeps me talking.”

“Oh…open your mouth?”

His breath probably smelled rancid, like dry rot from being under-lubricated. It made him sound raspier than normal, to the point where he had all but forgotten what his voice used to sound like. Nothing had been the same since Toydaria. Odessa wouldn’t know that, though. She only knew his voice as it was now, only knew what he looked like with the scars and the metal grafted to his bones. 

"The ones who are making the prosthetics should be commended," she murmured, tilting her head back as she peered into his mouth. "It looks like an exact replica. Even your tongue…it is too bad they could not do more."

"Maybe if I were a politician," Ghoul said. "Or not a clone. They did what they had to do to keep me alive and functioning. The faster they could fix me, the faster they could send me back out into the field."

"I hate it," Odessa said, frowning. 

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

Odessa abandoned her inspection of the interior of his mouth and touched the tip of his nose with the edge of her nail.

"What is this?" she asked, scratching gently. "It is black…smoke?"

"Warpaint," Ghoul said, suddenly embarrassed. No one ever mentioned it before…he didn't think anyone ever paid attention to the dark color he painted around his eyes and down the center of his face. By the time he removed his helmet, back on Coruscant, most of it had already rubbed off or faded away. 

"I thought it was part of your scars," she said softly, tracing the thick line of his eyebrow. "Do you want to wash your face? I have a clean towel and very gentle soap."

"Does it bother you?"

"No…but it is not so good for your skin, to be wearing it all the time. Especially for your eyes—here the skin is very thin, sensitive, and fragile."

As she spoke, she trailed the tips of her fingers around his eyes, circling each one with a tenderness that made him want to cry. No one had ever touched him like this before…no one had ever tried and he had never let anyone come so close. Even when the military doctors tried to get him to sit still for their examinations, or tried to insist on an upgrade, he always found a way to get them off his back. He'd broken the wrist of one doctor who got a little too handsy. He hated things near his eyes.

But….

"I guess," Ghoul said, reluctantly. If it was her then he…he could stomach it, for a little while at least.

"It does not have to be now," Odessa murmured. He felt a puff of her breath against the upper portion of his cheek and realized she had somehow pressed closer. He could feel her against the upper part of his arm and shoulder, her body hot through her shirt. Something inside of him kickstarted and he felt liquid heat pool deep in his gut, in some pocket dimension beyond his stomach.

"Odie," he said on exhale, referring to her by her nickname for the first time since he had known her.

"Mm?" she hummed in response as she ran her hand over the top of his head. Kark, he wanted to close his eyes and just lean into it so bad. The way her palm felt against his skin, the way his hair bristled (soft, he hoped it was soft, hoped she liked it so she wouldn't stop petting him), the way she held the back of his head and traced the decorative lines buzzed into his fade…he couldn't remember a time he had ever felt so…so seen.

Ghoul licked his lips, for the first time not realizing what a fruitless endeavor the action was.

"E-Earlier," he said, trying not to stutter and doing it anyway, "you said…you said if you knew that…uh, if you knew you were my first kiss, you would h-have made it…memorable."

"I did," Odessa said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked like she was trying to stop a smile from forming.

"Yeah," Ghoul said, "uh…how w-would you go about, uh, doing that?"

The smile broke containment and by the stars it seemed to him that it lit up her whole face and the room. He stared unabashedly, trying to memorize all the little details about her that he had never noticed before, like the curve of her eyelashes and the way her nose scrunched up as she tried, in vain, to hide a giggle. Her lekku flicked back and forth and he wondered what it meant, thought about asking her, and decided against it.

His heart was beating too fast and he didn't know how long until his courage would fail him. He wanted to know so badly what she could do to him, how she could possibly kiss him in a way that would make the first one somehow less. He had thought about it so often that by this point it felt like it had become part of him, like anyone could look at him and see the imprint of her lips scored into the metal of his prosthetic. 

"You want to know?" Odessa asked. "I can…I can show you, if you like."

"Yes," Ghoul said in a rush, feeling lightheaded with anticipation. "Yes, please."

It was the first time he had said 'please' in a long time, but he dared not be rude, not now, not when she was looking at him like he wasn't somehow going to mess this up just by existing. Her eyes were so bright and she wet her lips with her tongue, making them look moist and inviting. He wished he could mirror her—it felt right, like what he might've done had he been whole. He hoped it wasn't terrible, hoped he wasn't awful and that she wouldn't regret it because he didn't know if he could handle a rejection of that magnitude.

"Here," Odessa said as she sat up on her knees, "come this way. It will be better."

He let her tug on his arm, let her pull him into scooting over until he sat more in the middle of the couch, and then, with a quickness he didn't expect, she swung her leg over his thighs and lowered herself to sit in his lap. The heat of her bottom sent another wild sensation racing through him, quick as lightning, frying all his nerves in a split second. Ghoul inhaled sharply and held his breath, like if he…if he made a move she'd change her mind.

"This is okay?" she asked, all innocence, like he was accustomed to this kind of thing. "It will be easier to kiss this way."

"I-I'll take your word for it," he whispered. 

"Good."

Odessa pressed her hand to his cheek; he couldn't feel it, but he knew it was there and that made a difference. It was just like before, just like the night he had walked her home and she surprised him, kissing him so quickly he didn't even have time to react. Ghoul inhaled sharply through his nose as she slid her other arm over his shoulder, flinching as her fingers met with the back of his neck.

"Relax," she whispered, leaning in. "Close your eyes…."

He didn't. He wanted to see her…and he was glad he didn't obey because she closed her eyes and parted her lips just the smallest amount before pressing her mouth to his ruined one and this time he thought he was prepared…but he wasn't.

He wasn't.

It was gentle, tender, lingering the same way her scent did long after he left her presence. He felt her against his upper lip, the touch of her mouth electric, causing his heart to stutter and his breath catch in his lungs. She kissed him like it was the last thing she'd ever do, her lips pliant and warm against his. Dimly he was aware it couldn't be comfortable, the way she had to work around the immovable portion of his prosthetic, but that didn't seem to stop her.

Ghoul's eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and he thought he might have made a little noise of surprise, which was…stupid. He knew this was going to happen, so what was there to be surprised about? Odessa didn't stop though, didn't pay any mind to anything weird he might have done and she was so soft, pressed against him with her whole body—he could feel every inch of her, every inch—in a way that made him wish he knew what to do with his hands.

He tried settling them on her shoulders but it was too awkward; her waist was too tempting, and her thighs…he didn't want to think about it. Ignorance was a curse in the moment, so he dropped them to the couch, gripping the edge of the cushion tight as he tried to focus on the kiss.

"Mmph," Ghoul moaned, exhaling harshly through his nose. 

Odessa pulled away, but didn't stop. She pressed her lips to his cheek, against the unfeeling synthetic mesh and then again, against his skin; it tingled where she kissed him and he wished he could take that feeling and make it last forever. She kissed the corner of his eye, his forehead, over his eyebrows and down the other side of his face where she turned his head to the side and pressed her mouth against his torn ear, the moist warmth of her breath ghosting over him and making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His skin prickled and the heat in his gut boiled over—beneath his blacks he felt his cock twitch with interest.

"Wait, wait," Ghoul gasped, hurriedly taking hold of Odessa's delicate wrists and bringing her hands away from his face. He could feel a flush spreading up his neck, coloring his ears a dark red he knew she'd notice.

"Too much?" she asked, tilting her head.

"No…yes. I mean…it…it was…."

He didn't have the words for it. He didn't know how to tell her that if she kept it up he'd only embarrass himself. His body was reacting in all the telltale ways it usually did when he touched himself during the private moments he stole in the showers or his bunk. The lazy heat crawling through him was familiar now and, to his horror, he didn't know how to make it go away.

"Do you want to stop?" Odessa asked. She had a look of concern on her face, like maybe she thought she had done something wrong.

"No," Ghoul said, despite the turmoil he felt. If she kissed him like that again…she'd know, eventually. There was no way she wouldn't be able to feel him, pressed against her as he was. But if she stopped…he didn't want her to stop.

"It is okay to say no, if you are feeling uncomfortable," she said, pulling her wrist out of his grasp to touch his head again. She seemed about as obsessed with running her hand over his buzzcut as he was, and Ghoul inhaled with a shuddering breath.

"I'm not…uncomfortable," he muttered. "Just…dunno what to do. I…I've never…never been in this situation before. I don't wanna mess it up."

"You are not messing up," she laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to his eyebrow. "You are being very stiff though…you can relax."

"I don't know how."

"Here," Odessa said, sitting up and boldly taking hold of his hands. "I will show you."

Show me what, he barely had time to think before she placed his hands directly on her hips. He startled like she had just stuck him with a live wire and he jerked his head up to stare at her in shock, only to be met with a look of what he could only describe as triumph.

"There you go," she smirked, patting the backs of his hands. "You do not need to be scared of touching me."

"I…I can?" 

He didn't want to believe it, if only because if…if she changed her mind, or laughed…if it was just part of a larger joke, then he'd….

Shut up, he snapped at the part of himself still doubting Odessa's intentions. Shut up, she's not like that.

"I am giving you permission," she said, and he swore he saw her cheeks tinge darker with a flush. "I would like it…if you did touch me."

"How?" he asked breathlessly, squeezing her hips just a bit and wishing he could appreciate the way her flesh gave way beneath his grip. She was soft, so soft. 

"Anyway you want," she said, pressing another kiss to his temple. "As long as I can keep doing this."

Ghoul swallowed thickly, having somehow worked up enough moisture in his mouth to do so. She was giving so much of herself—her kindness, her generosity, her home and now access to her body as well? It was almost too much to wrap his mind around. There was nothing he could do to reciprocate in any meaningful way…nothing she could possibly want from him that she couldn't find elsewhere, with far less trouble. She deserved so much better….

“Odie,” Ghoul said as she moved to kiss him again, “hold on…I…there’s somethin’ I need t’ show you.”

“What is it?”

She kissed the arch of his cheek and he felt like he was going to combust if she did it again. Her hips were distracting, shifting in subtle movements that did nothing to help him stave off the lust building inside of him. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, and knew that blood was rushing straight to his cock and she’d feel it, she’d know because he wasn’t in control and he didn’t know how to make it go away without jumping back out in the middle of the storm and laying facedown in a puddle of cold water. 

Ghoul pulled away from her and fumbled at his mouth, suddenly unable to find the hidden clasp that held the decorative plate fixed to his jaw. It was so easy, usually, but she was watching him, her eyes bright and blue and so beautiful—she was so beautiful and he didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. Finally he touched the right corner and the small plate popped free, granting him a greater range of motion and revealing a fully crafted lower lip, made of the same soft silicone as his cheeks. He panted for a moment, looking up at her with the hope that she wouldn’t…wouldn’t think he was too odd, hiding from her like he had to.

But of course, he should have known better by then.

“Oh,” Odessa said, lighting up with another smile. She cupped his face in both hands and kissed him eagerly and this time, somehow, they fit together better than before. He still couldn’t feel the majority of her mouth, but there was a definite sensation that this was right. She wasn’t complaining either, but kissed him fully, slipping her tongue against his upper lip and making little noises that were almost moans. His hands fell back to her hips and he touched like she told him he could, squeezing and wishing he had more sensation in his right arm. But what was there to complain about, with her in his lap?

Slowly, he felt himself sinking back into the couch, relaxing until his head met with the soft cushion, and still Odessa kissed him, their noses pressed against each other, teeth sometimes meeting in gentle clicks that made her giggle halfway through a kiss, so that her warm breath washed over his face. She smelled so good, everything about her did—there was nothing he didn’t like about her, from the tips of her lekku down to her pretty little feet. She was…she was like nothing he could have ever dreamed of having.

He didn't know how long they were there for, didn’t know how long it had been since he had first sat down on the couch, nor did he care. Minutes, hours, days…he’d stay there until she told him to get out. His hands slid down her thighs, the last two of his fingers that could feel anything searching for the warmth of her skin, eager to feel anything other than the soft shirt she wore. She had said he could touch anywhere…why not take advantage? Odessa certainly didn’t hesitate; she had long abandoned her hold on his neck and played now with his shoulders, feeling him up, roving over his biceps and squeezing the firm muscle like she was testing him. 

“I want to see,” she whispered coyishly. “Can you undress?”

“Uh….”

“Please?”

She ran her hands over the front of his chest, pressing against his pecs and making him jump. Ghoul made the mistake of looking down and felt his stomach clench at the sight of her green hands on his abdomen, her slender fingers already seeking out the near invisible seam where the upper half of his blacks connected to the bottom. She undid it easily, and snuck her hands beneath his top, sliding them against his abs and over his ribs.

“Kark,” Ghoul groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. If he hadn’t been on the way to a full erection before that moment, he certainly was now. He could feel his cock pulsing and tried to fight back the urge to shift; any disruption and she’d notice, without a doubt. 

“Does that feel good?” she asked, scratching his sides with her short, neat nails. 

“Nnn. Uh-huh.”

He hesitated only a moment longer, indulging in being touched in a way no one had ever touched him before, and then reached over his head to grasp at the back of his blacks. He pulled them off quickly, mindful not to hit Odessa in the face, and tried to ignore the fact that someone else, someone not a doctor, was going to be able to see the ugly scarring where his prosthetics grafted into his skin. The edges of his skin around his throat piece were still a darker red—healing could take years, he had been told after the surgery, but it seemed no matter what he did there was always a sense of tenderness there. The tattoos helped camouflage the worst of it, but–

“Wow,” Odessa exclaimed, immediately leaning in to touch the ink marking his skin. “Ghoul…this is beautiful! Look at how perfect the lines are…very dark and bold. And your arm! I have never seen tattoos like these!”

Her praise washed over him like a wave, yanking him under and rolling him until he didn’t know which direction was up or down. He was proud of his ink—almost every clone was—but to hear that kind of flattery from someone else…and his tattoos had been the first thing she noticed, not the scarring on his arm or throat, but the deliberate designs he chose to etch into his skin. Odessa traced the lines making up the geometric patterns over his collarbones, and ran her other hand down his arm, staring at the full length sleeve that tapered into a fade at his wrist. 

"Got it after the prosthetics," Ghoul said, rotating his arm so she could see how the pattern covered every inch of skin. "Found a guy who did 'em the old way, none of that laser printing kark the shinies go to. Just…needle and ink."

"It sounds painful," Odessa said.

"I was still numb from the surgeries…guess I was just…tryin' to feel something again."

"Well, they are beautiful. Especially against your skin."

"My skin?"

"Mmhmm," she said, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder. Ghoul froze in place, not daring to breathe. "It is a good color, warm and bronze…it reminds me of Ryloth's desert."

"The, uhm, Jixuan?"

"You remembered! Yes, the same."

"Didn't get to see it," Ghoul gasped as Odessa slid her hands over his chest, unhindered by the protective layer his blacks had afforded him. He didn't yet know if it was for better or worse.

"Maybe one day you will," she said, dragging her nails across his skin and then, using only her middle finger, tracing a circle around one of his dusky nipples. 

“Fuck,” Ghoul gasped as it stiffened, pleasure blooming outward from that one small spot, more intense than anything he had ever experienced on his own. He bucked his hips involuntarily, a stunted jolt that did nothing to dislodge her from his lap, but she glanced up at him sharply, having obviously felt the rigid length of him pressed against the underside of her thigh. 

“Sorry,” he whispered frantically, “sorry, I–”

"Shh."

Odessa bit her lip and glanced between them, her eyes slightly hooded and her expression…contemplative. He watched her, holding his breath in anticipation as she rolled her lip between her teeth and, leisurely, trailed her fingers down his stomach. His abs jumped beneath her featherlight touch and, to his astonishment, Odessa curled her fingers beneath the waistband of his blacks and peeled the edge back deliberately.

He didn't even think to stop her before his erection came free, slapping against the lower part of his abdomen with a meaty sound that broke the silence between them and forced the air out of his lungs.

"Ooh," Odessa murmured, immediately curling a hand around his thick shaft, "you should have said something. I am not minding this."

"Ahhh," Ghoul gasped, grabbing hold of her wrist before she could do any real damage. "Wait, wait…stop. I…I can't. You can't. It's–"

"Shhh," she shushed him again, giving him a quick kiss to quell his stuttering. "Let me touch you? I have been thinking about this too."

"...y-you have?"

"Mmhmm. I told you I am attracted to you—that means this way, too."

"You don't hafta," he insisted, trying and failing to look anywhere but his cock in her dainty hand, her fingers wrapped around it, bunching the foreskin. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, and all he could feel was pleasure overriding everything, including his good senses. He couldn't let her…it was too much. He'd never forgive himself.

"But I want to," Odessa whispered, squeezing him unhurriedly. He tried to hold back the groan that ended up escaping him, but it was a futile endeavor. His grip on her wrist relaxed, just the faintest amount, and he felt he was fighting a losing battle.

"No one's…ever–" he panted, squeezing his eyes shut as she took advantage of his slackening hold to stroke his cock upward, shattering the rest of his argument.

"I know…please, let me make you feel good?"

He couldn't say no to her, he realized in that instant. She could have asked him for anything—anything at all—and he would have done everything in his power to make it happen. He felt defenseless against her…but maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Deep down, he knew he didn't want her to stop, either.

Whatever she was gonna do…he wanted her to do it.

"'Kay," he said, letting go of her wrist and curling his finger beneath her chin instead. She looked up at him with a shy smile, her cheeks and lekku dark with a blush. This time, Ghoul leaned in and kissed her, mimicking the way her mouth moved against his until she gave an airy sigh of satisfaction.

Her hand went to work, pumping his length with steady, practiced movements that tore through the vestiges of his doubt, until it was all he could do to stop himself from moaning out loud. He failed at that when he looked down and watched her roll her thumb over the head of his cock, smearing translucent precum over the tip and making the vein in his shaft throb.

"Oh fuck," he groaned, dropping his hand to her thigh, giving it a squeeze. "Fuck, that feels…ah, that feels so good."

"I like hearing you," she whispered, adding her other hand to the mix, dipping greedily past his blacks to palm his balls. "You are so beautiful…."

He didn't believe her for a second, but he was too focused on the way she was milking him to protest her ridiculous claim. Her hands were warm, soft, and the sensation of being touched by someone other than himself was so novel it kept him guessing what she'd do next. He couldn't decide between closing his eyes and giving himself over completely, or sitting up and watching because…who knew when this would ever happen again?

The way she jerked him was methodical, agonizing—he wanted to take hold of her hand and show her how he liked to fuck his fist when he was close (he was so close already but he couldn't let her know, she had only just started touching him and how embarrassing would it be to cum from just a few solid tugs?), but he was too mesmerized by the sight of her hands working him over, from the thick base back to the blunt tip. 

Odessa bent over him, pressing her lips to his shoulder in another kiss that quickly multiplied into three more as she followed an invisible path down his chest. He felt her tongue, he thought, once or twice as she licked at him, but then there was a puff of hot air against his nipple and he had only a moment to steel himself before she had enveloped the little nub of flesh in her mouth. 

"Ugggh," Ghoul groaned throatily, instinctively touching one of her lekku. "Odie, kark…."

She sucked patiently, flicking her tongue against his nipple in time with the movement of her hand on his cock and pulling noises from him like pieces of thread, like she intended to unravel him down to his core. He couldn't have kept quiet even if he had bothered to try at that point—his moans filled the room, words unneeded as he begged her to keep going, stroking the length of her lek until he reached the tapered end. He felt more than heard her resulting moan in the reverberation through his flesh as she continued to roll her tongue against his nipple, finally pulling away with a lush little pop.

"They are sensitive," she gasped as he bent the end of her lek over his finger, testing its flexibility. "Not too hard, please…."

"What if I hurt you?" Ghoul asked, hesitating.

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you won't. I trust you."

Unconvinced, he lightened his touch, stroking back up the length of one thick lek with just the backs of his flesh fingers, indulging in the texture of her skin and amazed by how tensile it was. He had assumed they were stiff, like solid muscle around bone, but he was surprised at their versatility. And he…he liked the way Odessa's face looked every time he touched them.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked, fixated on the way her eyes shut and her brows knit together. 

“Mmhmm,” she moaned, pulling down his blacks to rest beneath his balls. She spat into her palm and took hold of him again, stroking him with one hand while the other rolled over his cockhead in a circular motion until he felt like he was going to black out from pleasure. Nothing could feel this good, nothing was meant to feel like this, not on purpose. Ghoul canted his hips into her grasp, wanting more than she could give, and more than he knew how to ask for. Her lek slipped from his grip and he grasped at the arm of the couch for support, clenching the cushion tight.

“Ahh, ah, Odie,” he groaned, bracing himself with both feet against the floor as he lifted his hips, holding onto her bicep with his other hand for support. The pressure was too much; he had always liked the way it felt to edge himself, to test the limits of his endurance until he couldn’t hold back any longer. His orgasms always felt better the longer he denied himself release…but there was no resisting Odessa’s hold on him. She clung to his hips with her thighs and steadied herself with nothing but her core strength—it reminded him of the way she had spun around the pole, at Rollo’s, how easily she held and carried herself across the stage, with confidence and grace.

“Shh, it is okay,” she murmured, poking her tongue between her lips as she hastened the movement of her hands, fucking him on her fist until the slip of his foreskin over his frenulum almost drove him crazy. Ghoul grabbed her wrist with the intention of pushing her off before it was too late, but she squeezed at just the right moment and he shouted, cock twitching heavily in her hold as he came all over himself, sending white streaks of seed shooting up his stomach and chest, damn near to his shoulder. 

“Fuuu—uck,” Ghoul groaned, his stomach spasming from the sudden release as Odessa milked him through it, her hand covered in his spend as she smeared it up and down his shaft. He was so sensitive, so tender it almost hurt when she continued to pump him, but the ache was decadent, luxurious in a way he hadn’t known existed before now. He panted heavily, dropping his head back against the couch and trying to catch his breath as he shuddered beneath her, his nerve endings all vying to be the first to send him in a shivering fit.

Dimly, he was aware of something warm and wet rimming his eyes, but before he could wipe it away Odessa was there, pressing her lips to the corners of his eyes and kissing him gently.

“Why tears, Freykaa?” she asked sweetly. “Was it too much?”

“N-no,” he said, chest still heaving. He closed his eyes and covered them with a shaking hand, trying to get a hold of himself. His lungs felt tight and his throat worked up and down of its own accord, but he refused, refused to cry in front of her—it was bad enough he had orgasmed so quickly, making a mess of himself and her like he was a brand new shiny fresh out of the tube. 

“I’m…I’m fine,” he managed to get out before a deep shudder worked its way through his entire body. He choked on his words and inhaled shakily, fooling no one, not even himself. Odessa kissed the corners of his eyes again, her lips soft, her skin fragrant, and her touch so gentle it almost tore a hole right through his resolve. Despite his best efforts, a few more tears slipped free, dripping down his cheeks before she wiped them away with her thumbs.

“Sorry,” Ghoul whispered, ashamed and avoiding her gaze.

"For what?" Odessa asked, no judgment in her tone. "For crying? It is nothing to apologize for. You are allowed to experience and express emotions…is it that you are not used to that?"

He didn't know how she could manage to be so pinpoint accurate with her assumptions, but it made it easier to talk to her when he didn't have to force himself to articulate his every thought. She was right, at any rate, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If he didn't try to talk…he couldn't say anything incriminating. 

"You do not have to hide from me," Odessa said, cupping his cheek. Her fingers slid back to touch his ear and he grimaced, thinking about his hearing aid, but she didn't stop until she held the back of his neck. Her forehead met his in a gentle press and for a moment he wondered if it was some cruel trick of the universe or some higher power that had led him here, after all he had been through, in order to teach him some kind of cosmic lesson about humility.

"I feel stupid," he mumbled.

"Why stupid?"

"...I wanted…I didn't wanna stop. But I couldn't hold off and now it's over."

"...it does not have to be," Odessa said. She shifted and touched the tip of her finger to his member, trapped between them but still erect. He grunted at the contact and gave her a curious look.

"Is this normal for you?" she asked, pulling his cock away from where it lay against his stomach and letting it spring back. He hissed, still overly sensitive, but felt desire ramp back up in his veins as if it were the first time.

"...yeah, I guess. Always…always been able to last longer on my own, though."

Odessa nodded and traced her finger down the underside of his length, stopping just above his balls. He inhaled like a kriffing rancor and wished she'd do more, even if it ached, even if it hurt. He just…wanted her hands on him again.

"...I want you," she confessed after teasing him with more deliberate touches. "I do not mind saying it. If…if you—"

"Yes," Ghoul interrupted breathlessly. "Whatever you're about to say, yes. I…I want you too. I don't want to stop an' I don't have anywhere to be."

She bit her lip and he wanted to bite it too, wanted to leave her with the imprint of his teeth in a place she wouldn't soon forget, just so he could say he had been there, if only for a short time.

Ghoul watched her, dread and anticipation warring with one another inside of him as he waited for her to say something. It was selfish to hope for more than she had already given him, but maybe her kindness had spoiled him—if she was willing, then he'd take everything she had to give. As if seeking to convince her, he took the end of one of her lekku and lifted it to his mouth for a brief kiss. She gasped, her hand pressed against her chest in an instant.

"I…I wanna make you feel good too," he said, hoping it was the right kind of thing to say. 

Her lekku spasmed, curling in a way he had come to associate with some kind of positive emotion. Hope welled up inside of him when she smiled, her cheeks bluish-green as she blushed prettily.

"I would like that," Odessa admitted. Then, without warning, she threaded one lek through the stretched neckline of her shirt, yanking the rest up and over her head in one swift motion.

Oh, Ghoul thought, before higher brain function failed him.

It didn't occur to him that she might be naked beneath her clothes, but there she was, all of her, bright and nude and svelte, perched atop his thighs and smiling for all the world like she had just won a game only she knew they were playing.

"I would like that very much."

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, my adopted son, and for Odessa, who deserves him XD (it’s like 30 pages, i’m so sorry lmfao)

Also figured I should link the other parts (also guess i should mention there’s some adult mentionings, so if you’re underage, i’m not your mom but don’t get caught lmao)

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

As luck would have it, Ghoul’s next deployment sent him back to Ryloth, right into the waiting arms of Cham Syndulla and Captain Howzer, who were only too happy to explain exactly what was expected of him for the mission at hand; it was nothing he hadn’t done before, nothing that he shouldn’t have had any trouble with. And he didn’t. He was fine. Performance above reproach despite his grumbling and scowling, winning him Syndulla’s unneeded and unwanted praise upon his return.

It used to make him sick, the way his superiors commended him to his face after another successful mission—it still did, but now he was forced to endure their adulation with her in the back of his mind, and the things she had told him. Would they sing songs about this victory, small as it was? Would they remember his name like she had? Did they already speak it among themselves in lilting whispers when he wasn’t around? When he took his leave, would they look to the stars and remember what he had done?

He wasn’t distracted.

He couldn’t afford to be. 

But sometimes…sometimes out of the corner of his eye he would catch a glimpse of green lekku and he would find himself turning his head out of curiosity, despite knowing it couldn’t possibly be the little bartender on Coruscant.

Sometimes he would hear bright laughter and he’d freeze in place.

He caught snippets of conversation in Basic, the accent familiar in a way that was almost a relief, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

If Howzer and Syndulla suspected anything, neither made mention of it; for that, Ghoul was grateful. He didn’t know what lie he’d have to make up on the spot to cover for any inconsistencies in his performance, but it’d have to be a good one to survive Syndulla’s scrutiny. The head of the Twi’lek rebellion was one of the very few figures Ghoul felt he could respect—unlike the leaders of the Republic, Syndulla put himself on the front lines of nearly every skirmish, leading by example and throwing himself head first into harm’s way. He fought for Ryloth, for his people, in a way that determined exactly how willing Ghoul was to risk his own life for the mission assigned to him.

Captain Howzer, on the other hand, was just a standard clone but he followed Syndulla’s lead with an eagerness that bordered on sycophantic. He was a good soldier, obedient like he was supposed to be, and Ghoul hated him for it. Thankfully, he outranked Howzer and therefore didn’t have to answer to him. All transmissions were heavily encoded and Ghoul didn’t engage in smalltalk outside of the mission itself so it was easy to isolate himself until the time came to return to Coruscant. 

A solid sixty rotations had passed, during which time he had gathered enough intel to give the Twi’lek rebellion the advantage it needed to push back against the Separatist forces; with luck they’d be able to secure the win they so desperately needed. Ghoul didn’t care either way—he wouldn’t be there to see it. To the clones stationed on Ryloth long term he imagined it would mean more for their morale…but they were idiots in the same vein Howzer was, softhearted and too quick to give too much of themselves for a cause that wasn’t their own. 

Orders are orders, Ghoul thought bitterly to himself as he checked his packs over one last time. The transport ship taking him back to Coruscant was nearing its departure; he’d be sharing too small a space with too many wounded troopers, many of whom probably wouldn’t survive triage. Stabilizing them didn’t mean anything if they were sent back to Kamino for ‘reevaluation’. It was a death sentence either way and Ghoul wasn’t looking forward to fighting off the memories that were sure to be dredged by during the trip. He could close his eyes and remove his hearing aids, but the smell…the smell of death wasn’t something that could be ignored.

“Commander!” 

Ghoul groaned and ran a hand down the right side of his face, narrowly avoiding the cygarette he had been trying to savor in spite of the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace to himself, not on this planet.

“Howzer,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation as the captain jogged up to greet him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to see you off, Sir,” Howzer said brightly, saluting with an enthusiasm that set Ghoul’s teeth on edge. 

“Don’t need it,” he muttered. “You got better things to do, surely.”

“Not right now, thanks to you. That intel you procured put us ahead of our original plans by months. We’ll be able to launch an effective counterstrike against those clankers within the week.”

Ghoul snorted. The rebellion couldn’t afford to lower its guard at their current standpoint. The position they had held onto by tooth and nail for the past sixty rotations still put them at the disadvantage; all it would take was one full-scale assault from the enemy and they’d be wiped out. It had been one of the first things Ghoul had pointed out upon his arrival, but his advice had gone unheeded. It didn’t matter—in an hour he’d wash his hands of Ryloth and all five of its moons. As soon as he boarded the transport, it wouldn’t be his problem any longer.

“As long as you don’t kark it up,” Ghoul said as he tightened the straps on his pack, further compressing his extra gear. “Should be a sight t’ see…if you live through it.”

He looked up in time to see Howzer’s optimistic expression falter, and it sent something sick and pleasurable racing through his veins. That’s right, the feeling seemed to say, don’t get complacent. Don’t get cocky.

Unfortunately, ‘giving up’ wasn’t one of the qualities that had gotten Howzer promoted to Captain. He fixed his expression into something more neutral and bent at the waist to haul one of Ghoul’s bags over his shoulder, grunting with effort. If he thought he was helping, he was dead wrong, and Ghoul immediately jumped to his feet with a growl, getting in Howzer’s way and shoving at his shoulder.

“Drop it,” he ordered, exhaling around his cyg in a cloud of smoke, sending it straight into the captain's face and watching his eyes water.

“I’m just trying to help,” Howzer said, bewildered by Ghoul’s sudden aggression.

“Didn’t ask for it,” Ghoul said as he grabbed the strap of his bag out of the captain’s hands. “I don’t need help. I do things on my own.”

“Howzer! Kassurra!” came a call from halfway across the landing platform; a couple of Twi’leks waved enthusiastically, a greeting which Howzer returned like Ghoul wasn’t even there.

“Kass!” he called back. “Kei’nata ni!”

Of course he knew Ryl. He was such a good clone, nearly perfect in every way, from the ease with which he had tried to integrate with the people and the culture, to the way he treated Syndulla with the same respect usually reserved for Republic Admirals. Even his accent was affected with the tinge of Ryl dialect. Ghoul hated him more for what he represented. The GAR didn’t have need for recruitment posters, but if it did, Howzer would have been plastered all over them.

Kiss-ass, Ghoul thought resentfully.

Howzer dropped his arm back down to his side and looked over at the other two bags sitting at Ghoul’s feet as though contemplating making another go for it; he seemed to think better of it though and stood rooted in place. 

“It’s not so bad here, you know,” he said, still trying to broker…something between them, some illusion of brotherhood that Ghoul wanted no part in. “Once you get used to the heat and the humidity, you start to see the beauty of the land.”

He doubted it. Ryloth was many things, but ‘beautiful’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Too many times he had felt like he was being steamed alive in his armor, sweat soaking through his blacks as he stalked through the thick, unforgiving jungles, avoiding the indigenous and carnivorous wildlife that had driven Twi’leks to live in caves for their own safety. If Howzer thought differently, then he needed to get himself checked out by medical for brain damage brought on by heatstroke.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul growled. 

“It’s not just deserts and jungle,” Howzer continued, nonplussed. “If you make it past the Jixuan there’s these mountains—”

“Listen,” Ghoul snapped, losing his patience, “Whatever it is you’re trying to do…just stop. It’s embarrassing how much you think I give a damn.”

Howzer blinked, somehow managing to piss him off even more. There was something about him that was…different, even for a clone. His eyes were almost too big, his face a little too symmetrical. There was no other word for it, he was pretty. If any one of them could be considered ‘designer’, then it’d have to be Howzer; the longnecks must’ve slipped something a little extra into his slurry while he marinated, for him to turn out the way he had.

While not strictly his fault, Ghoul took offense to it nonetheless. 

“Is there anything else you want to bother me about, or can I go?” he asked.

“Wow,” Howzer grumbled. “I had heard from Wolffe that you were a little standoffish, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Ghoul froze.

Wolffe was talking? About him?

He dropped his bag onto the pile with the others and fixed his glare on Howzer, who stood there with a look on his face that said he wasn’t all that aware of the danger he was currently in.

“Oh yeah?” Ghoul said in a rough whisper. “And what else did Wolffe say about me?”

To his credit, Howzer didn’t back down. 

“He said not to expect anything from you but the bare minimum—just the mission, nothing more.”

I’m going to kill him.

“You should have listened,” Ghoul spat, getting close and jabbing a finger against Howzer’s chestplate. “I got sent here against my will, to do the job that you failed to do. That’s it. I don’t care about you or anyone else on this rock. The only thing I’m interested in is making it back to base and forgetting I was ever here.”

“You talk real big for someone who just risked his life to ensure the Twi’leks have a chance to make it through this war,” Howzer said, his amber eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. He held his fist tight at his side and Ghoul wished, wished he’d make a move. Maybe he could get lucky and bleed some of his stress out before the trip back, and give Howzer a few little reminders why he should keep minding his own karking business.

“Like I said,” Ghoul hissed, “I didn’t ask for this assignment. I was just sent here to clean up after you.”

“We’ve done everything we could,” Howzer said, drawing himself up indignantly. “You were our last resort before the Council was going to send the Jedi.”

“The Jedi,” Ghoul echoed mockingly. He picked the cyg from his mouth and flicked it at Howzer, watching as it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the ground. “There’s an idea. Why don’t you call them next time? I’m sure they’ll solve all your problems for you.”

“You hate them.”

“Is stating the obvious the only thing you’re good at?”

“Is it because of that?” Howzer asked, tapping his own jaw. He had a scar there, freshly formed and still pink at the edges where the new skin grew on the torn edges of the wound, the shape of which indicated shrapnel as the most likely culprit. Ghoul stared, black rage climbing the ladder of his ribs until he felt that he could reach out, put his hands around Howzer’s neck and squeeze until he stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped looking at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Howzer continued, “but I heard rumors you were the only survivor of the 331st. Their last campaign…it was on Toydaria, wasn’t it?"

Ghoul inhaled sharply. Ryloth’s air was warm, moist, but nothing compared to Toydaria, where every breath had felt like they were drowning, even through the advanced air filtration of their helmets. He had tried not to think about how similar the two climates actually were ever since his arrival.

“Weren’t Jedi part of that battle?”

For all the good they’d been. He still couldn’t bear the sound of lightsabers and part of his special conditions for continued duty included keeping him as far from Jedi as possible, a condition the GAR had only been able to fulfill by assigning him solo missions. It was probably the only thing they’d done right.

“What happened?” Howzer pressed, completely incognizant of the distress every single one of his words afflicted.

“Shut up,” Ghoul managed to hiss. “Just…shut the hell up.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about—he didn’t have any right to talk about it. 

No one did.

For a moment it seemed like Howzer was going to prove himself the biggest idiot in all the GAR and keep pressing buttons. He looked like he wanted to, though for the life of him Ghoul couldn’t figure out why. 

What could he possibly gain from opening old wounds and sticking his fingers into them, like it was his business to do so? Only Wolffe knew the details of that fateful campaign, having pieced together events from the reports submitted by the Jedi Knight who had also survived. The rest he had pulled out of Ghoul himself, bleeding him so slowly with quiet questions and gentle touches that had only made recounting more difficult.

He didn’t want to remember.

If there had been a way for him to forget, some experimental procedure he could have undergone that would have sucked the memories from his brain, he would have. Anything was better than knowing what he now knew.

And Howzer…Howzer didn’t have any claim to it.

“Sorry,” the captain said, with the audacity of someone who was sorry but didn’t understand why. “It’s just…I’ve been trying to figure out what’s made you so detached; you’re a good soldier, I can see that much, but you don’t…you don’t act like the rest of us."

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ghoul asked, feeling like he had just run half a dozen laps around the landing pad for the way his heart thrummed in his chest. He wanted Howzer to shut up, wanted him to swallow his karking tongue, and there was nothing he could do about it because there were two many eyes around, too many clones and too many Twi'lek, and Ghoul was willing to bet they all liked Howzer better than they liked him.

Howzer shrugged. 

“I’ve never met a brother who was…so cold.”

There it was. 

If he could have laughed normally, he would have. Of all the ridiculous complaints lodged against him, being cold was the least of them. It didn’t matter how he treated his ‘brothers’, as long as they knew to stay out of his way and give him a wide berth. That was how he preferred things and, up until now, it hadn’t been a problem. But he could tell Howzer was young, a second gen clone at least; he didn’t understand war yet, not in the way Ghoul did. 

“It’s got nothin’ to do with you,” Ghoul said, fighting back the urge to reach out and slap him around a bit for being a nosey little idiot. “I’m like this with everyone. Ask Wolffe.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Howzer hurried to say. Off in the distance an announcement sounded over loudspeaker, signaling boarding for the transport leaving for Coruscant. “I mean, the people here, on Ryloth…they care. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but they’re appreciative of our help.”

We are not blind to their sacrifice.

He had tried not to think too much about her, the Twi’lek bartender, but being surrounded by her people, on her planet, made it difficult. Not only were there reminders of her everywhere he looked, but now Howzer’s words echoed a sentiment she had tried to instill in him the last time they spoke. His skin prickled with the feeling of being cornered, like he was being pressured into admitting to something he didn’t believe in.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul said, exasperated and at the end of his rope for how much more he could tolerate. “They’re only grateful because they’re desperate. They’d be licking the boots of anyone who showed up to help.”

“That’s not true,” Howzer frowned. “They’ve been nothing but accepting.”

“Tch. Don’t kid yourself. No matter what you do, no matter how many battles you manage to scrape together, you’re never going to be accepted by them. You’re not one of them.”

He struck a nerve. He could tell almost immediately from the way Howzer’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. Ghoul watched the scar on his cheek stretch and contract with the movement and wondered if there was a limit to how much abuse Howzer was willing to take before he snapped. But maybe it wasn’t the insults thrown his way that bothered him so much.

“With all due respect,” Howzer said, drawing himself up and standing back at attention, “You’re wrong, Commander. You’re wrong about the Twi’leks and you’re wrong about me.”

“Oh am I?”

“You are. I wasn’t assigned here against my will. I requested to be stationed on Ryloth. The Siege of Lessu was my first campaign before I made Captain—a complete and utter loss, by the way, so yeah, I’m aware you’ve had to clean up after us. But you know something?”

He took a deep breath, like he was getting something off his chest that had been weighing on him for some time, and Ghoul wished that he could be anywhere else at the moment.

“Syndulla and his people got us out of there. They knew this planet better than we did, knew how to utilize the cave systems and escape routes that have existed for thousands of years. They refused to leave my unit behind even though we were slowing them down. At the end of the day, after we made it to safety? They helped us mourn the dead, showed us how they burn their bodies to release their spirits back to the mother goddess, Kika'lekki. They shared with us everything they had, even when they had so little to begin with. We were nothing to them, nobodies, but they took us in and showed us kindness that I’ve never known before. So…yeah. I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter. Ryma gesu'tak allesh, Commander. Have a safe flight back to Coruscant.”

Howzer executed the tightest about face Ghoul had ever seen and strode away, leaving him alone on the platform with three packs filled to bursting with heavy, non-standard equipment and no one to help carry it all onboard. It was the way Ghoul preferred things to be; he didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, he didn’t need help, and he definitely didn’t want attention. 

The departure announcement sounded again, nearing its final call for boarding. Ghoul slung one of his packs over his shoulder and grabbed the others one in each hand. His legs moved like he was on autopilot, carrying him across the landing pad until he was safely strapped in to a seat, crushed between a small porthole and two other clones who had already decided to take advantage of the several hours they were going to spend in hypersapce to get some sleep. They leaned against one another, heads touching and cradling their helmets in their laps as they stretched their legs out over a crate in front of them. 

Every last centimeter of space was taken up by either bodies or supplies. There were more injured clones than not, but Ghoul wasn’t focused on them. He didn’t even seem to notice the sounds of their moans as the pain meds wore off, or the scent of dried blood permeating the cabin space. He barely noticed the gentle beeping of medical equipment hooked up to the worst of them. The only thing playing through his mind was the way Howzer had looked at him while delivering his final unwanted speech…and the little green Twi’lek bartender back on Coruscant.

It was uncanny how similar their words sounded when he played them back in his mind.

Out the porthole he watched as Ryloth got smaller and smaller, until they made the jump to hyperspace. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but ended up not having much of a choice as he made himself as comfortable as he could, leaning against the cold hull with his arms crossed over his chest. His dreams were scattered, disjointed and unintelligible except for the one that woke him up gasping for air and looking around to see where the hell he was; he didn’t sleep again after that, and by the time they finally landed on Coruscant, he had all but forgotten what the dream had been about.

Mandatory debriefing lasted only two days, with one day being fully given over for making his report to higher-ups. Ghoul had to grit his teeth to get through the whole thing and somehow managed not to lose his tenuous grasp on his sanity when one of the Senators started asking idiotic questions about the mission. He didn’t know the name of the Jedi general who came to his rescue and took over fielding questions, but he didn’t care. He was just about done with it all. He wanted a smoke…and a drink.

He…he realized he wanted to go to 79s.

For a drink, he told himself. Not to see her, though he doubted she cared after the last time they parted ways. His last memories of her were the way she had moved across the stage at Rollo’s, flexible and lithe, wearing clothes that left so very little to the imagination. He had watched her dance through three different songs, until he forced himself to leave because he could no longer ignore the tightness in his pants. He couldn’t even remember making it back to the barracks, only that he had headed straight to the showers and spent all of his time allotment in one of the corner stalls, blasting cold water against his head and back as he fisted his cock until he came hard enough to make his knees buckle.

He was so sure she wouldn’t want to see him again after that night, positive that she had never expected him to stand there like his boots had sunk through the floor of that dingy club and watch her dance, and so he had avoided 79s like the plague until his assignment to Ryloth. He didn’t want to admit to any guilt…but he had thought about the way she had swung herself around the poles so often he was almost certain he had permanently burned the image of her into the backs of his eyelids.

And now there he stood, outside of 79s and feeling like the same kind of pathetic loser he had called Howzer for daring to express a simple desire for acceptance among a people he didn’t belong to.

He didn’t even know if she was working today.

You’re not gonna find out by standing out here, Ghoul told himself, before shoving his way inside. It was still too early to be crowded, but several clones had already gathered in pockets, some lounging around at tables with their kits half-on, half-off while others actually had time to change into their dress uniforms. Ghoul stood there at the entrance in his dark armor, helmet once again tucked under his arm as he scanned the bar, looking for—

Yes. There she was, serving drinks to a couple of grizzled, first-gen commanders. He didn’t know how he had ever mistaken the muted, blanched greens of the Twi’leks on Ryloth for her; it felt like an insult to how vibrant her skin glowed beneath the neon lights above the bar. He watched her for a moment, the cheerful way she greeted the other clones and spoke to them, leaning over the counter to better understand them when they asked a question too low for her to hear. She came away laughing, a little flush on her cheeks that made Ghoul feel like he needed to break something before she finally noticed him standing by the door.

It had to be his imagination that made the blush on her cheeks spread to her lekku, just a trick of the lights. She smiled brightly in his direction and waved before turning back to the bar to grab a bottle off the top shelf. Ghoul steeled himself and made his way to the seat at the end of the counter, closest to the wall—the seat that, somewhere down the line he had come to think of as his seat.

“Ghoul,” the Twi’lek said warmly as he sat down and she slid him a small glass, “it is so good to be seeing you again! It has been a long time since last we met…I wondered where you had gone.”

Ghoul picked up the glass and sniffed at the liquid within. Just as he thought: Catsblood.

“Just another mission,” he said, trying to push down the overwhelming sensation of relief that flooded his entire body. He didn’t know why, but this felt a bit like…like coming home. He didn’t try to think about how it was the first time since Toydaria that he had bothered stepping foot into 79s without either Wolffe or Fox present, or the fact that he didn’t feel burdened to answer her innocent question with anything other than the truth. He could look at her now without feeling the burn of annoyance he usually felt when dealing with civvies.

“Anything you are allowed to talk about?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her lekku sported a striped pattern that he hadn’t seen on any other Twi’lek he had encountered on Ryloth; the way the stripes fell against her forehead almost reminded him of the way some people wore their hair with bangs. 

“It’s classified,” he said, wondering what she’d say if she knew he had been to her home planet. 

“That figures,” she sighed, still smiling. She smiled at everyone, but for some reason when she aimed it at him…it felt more personal. “Most of the interesting missions always are. I will have to use my imagination then, to come up with a good story for where you have been these past two months.”

Months. Yeah, it’d been about that and some change since he had last seen her. Nothing about her or the bar was different—still the same old 79s, with its gaudy decor, cheap drinks, and sticky floors, still the same cheerful bartender. Ghoul took a sip and found the Catsblood warm, the way he liked it, because too much ice messed with his prosthetics, made some of the internal synth-metal pieces contract painfully. She had remembered, the same way she remembered his name.

Ghoul didn’t know how to verbalize the way it made him feel. It was such a small detail, such a pitiful thing to get excited about, but when he knew he could sit at the bar, not even look at a menu, and she’d serve him anyway? It felt like for the first time in his life, his opinions mattered. That he was someone outside of the armor.

It made him feel like she saw him as…a real person. 

The image of Howzer arose in his thoughts, the way he smiled and acted so friendly all the time, especially with the members of the Twi’lek rebellion, and Ghoul remembered Howzer’s parting words to him—“I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter.” 

Was it something like this? Was it the same way he felt just sitting in a bar and not caring who was staring at him, because he could get a drink without asking for it and the bartender smiled at him like she was happy to see him, even though it had been two months since the last time, and even though there were other clones, friendlier than him who made her laugh and blush? Ghoul wondered what she might think of Howzer, with his candid expressions and his perfect smile, his affable nature and the easy way he seemed to have picked up her language. He bet Howzer would never call her stupid, or insult her people to her face.

Ghoul winced at the memory and quickly downed half his drink, holding it between his synthetic cheeks just long enough to feel the comforting burn spread across the roof of his mouth.

“You, uh…been doin’ alright?” he asked haltingly, trying to remember what it felt like to make smalltalk with someone he wasn’t actively trying to get away from. 

“It is the same as ever,” the Twi’lek replied, leaning over the counter and resting on her elbows. “When I am not working or volunteering I am sleeping; always those three things, I think. I am lucky if I find time to read.”

“What do you read?” Ghoul asked.

“Many things, but I enjoy an escape every now and then—would you believe I love the mystery stories the best?”

“No,” he said, “I wouldn't have guessed.”

She was close enough that he could move his arm and they’d be touching. She’d never gotten so far into his personal space before, and he hadn’t seen her do this with the other clones who made her laugh. Maybe she treated all of her customers the same whenever he wasn’t around, though.

“What about…the other place?” Ghoul asked, trying to think of things to say. “You still work there?”

“Yes, but not so loud!” she whispered, holding up a finger to her lips. No one could have possibly heard, but she looked worried all the same. Maybe it was a mistake to bring that up so immediately; she might think it was the only thing he had thought about the entire time he had been gone.

“Anyone been bothering you?” he tried again, feeling more stupid and worthless by the second. It had been so easy for the other clones to drag a peal of sharp laughter out of her. What had they managed to say that had been so amusing? What was he missing? He didn’t remember conversation being this difficult before; he could still make Fox and Wolffe laugh, but he didn’t think their brand of humor was something she’d find funny. 

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but that is part of the job. There will always be customers who drink too much and let it go to their heads; they are handsy and loud, but nothing more.”

Handsy? Ghoul thought to himself.

He remembered the look of her slender wrist caught in the grip of the drunk who had assaulted her, the way she had worked to free herself in a pointless struggle that hadn’t ended until he had stepped in. Was it more of the same? More like that? He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that she was the type to put up with a lot from others, maybe more than any sensible person would have under normal circumstances. 

And it gave him an idea.

“Hey,” he said, “what time do you get out of here?”

It’s my imagination, he told himself when he thought he saw a blush reappear on her cheeks. 

“In—in a few hours,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit. “Why?”

“I want you to meet me somewhere.”

She looked suspicious for a moment, the ends of her lekku flicking in a way that Ghoul thought might be curiosity. He didn’t speak Ryl, or know all the ways Twi’lek communicated using their lekku, but he wouldn’t blame her for thinking he was up to something. He was going off of a whim and if it worked then maybe he wouldn’t need to subject either of them to the painful way he kept grasping at attempts to communicate the same way others did. 

Ghoul grabbed a napkin and smoothed it out on the countertop in front of him; he didn’t have anything to write with, but he didn’t even need to ask before the bartender was holding out a pen of her own, a curious look on her face as she watched him write down coordinates (and then, on a second thought, he wrote down the actual address because that’s probably what civvies did when they were trying to give directions). 

“It’s not far from here,” he said. “You can walk it. I’ll have everything set up by the time you arrive.”

“So mysterious,” she said, taking the napkin and reading it over. “Just like my favorite genre. Alright, I will accept this offer…but are you sure you will not be waiting too long? Sometimes I am made to stay and clean before I leave.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ghoul said, feeling a little lighter when she didn’t immediately reject him. “I’m on leave for the next few days. I’ve got time.”

“What is it for?”

“...you’ll see when you get there.”

That brought a smile to her face. A small one, but the way her mouth curved felt like a dagger slipped between his ribs, more effective than any vibroblade. 

“I like surprises,” she murmured, folding the napkin into a square and slipping it into the pocket of her pants. “Okay. I will see you in a little while. Thank you.”

He wanted to tell her not to thank him just yet; it was honestly a harebrained idea and if it fell flat he didn’t plan on showing his face anywhere near her again. But he was riding the high the idea had brought and he still needed time to go and get them registered. If she got there and hated everything about it, he’d deal with the fallout then.

For now though, he downed the rest of his drink, slapped his credits down on the bar and grabbed his helmet.

“Oh,” he said before he took his leave. “I uh…forgot to ask.”

“Yes?” 

Ghoul averted his gaze, unable to look her in the face as the parts of his cheeks not mottled with scar tissue heated up in an embarrassed flush.

“What’s your name again?”

He didn’t see her initial reaction, but when he heard her laugh he looked up just in time to see the way her nose scrunched up before she covered the lower half of her face with her hand. 

Oh.

“Odessa,” she said, humming with amusement.

Ghoul stood there a moment, transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to try and keep her smile from taking over her entire face.

“Odessa,” he repeated with a nod. “I won’t forget this time.”

~~~

Odessa didn’t realize she had been keeping track of the days since she had last seen Ghoul until he walked back through the doors at 79s, wearing the dark armor she had become so accustomed to seeing him in and carrying his helmet beneath his arm as rules dictated. 

She had made note of the last time he had come to the bar, just a little memo she kept at home for her own amusement, but as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months she had grown worried. Of course he was a soldier, and soldiers were made for the battlefield, but she didn’t know his rank or position and had no idea what attachment he was a part of. She thought about asking Commander Wolffe the next time he showed up, but lost her nerve when he did. 

She didn’t want to seem as though she was fishing for information…even though that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

The same night Odessa had caught Ghoul watching her dance at Rollo’s she had gone back to her tiny one room flat and thought about him. She thought about him more than she had ever thought about any clone who had come through the bar before and determined for herself that she…she had started to think of him in ways that were no longer strictly professional. Ghoul had piqued her interest from the start with his dark looks and his gruesome prosthetics, but the more she observed him and interacted with him the more she had begun to take an interest in who he was beneath those things. 

Yes, he was rude, abrasive, aloof, and only seemed to care about Commanders Wolffe and Fox, but he was also…oddly considerate. Not on purpose, she thought, but he paid for his drinks each time in spite of her trying to give him at least one on the house. He tipped proportionately when he could and didn’t drink what he couldn’t pay for, even if she couldn’t pour it back into the bottle. He obeyed the sign at the door and removed his helmet, even though she felt confident in assuming he would have preferred to leave it on for as long as possible. He kept his head down and minded his business, like he didn’t really want anyone to take notice that he was there.

And then, more recently, he had proven that he could be considerate. Odessa still didn’t believe that he had jumped to fight those drunks in order to save her—they had insulted him, and she knew more than a few other clones who would have happily swung first—but in doing so he had stopped them from potentially hurting her or destroying the bar. He had offered to escort her to Rollo’s for no reason other than he thought it would be dangerous for her to walk alone, in spite of the fact that she had already made the short journey a hundred times before he had even known about it.

He’s nice, she told herself as she quickly wiped down the counters one last time while Rumi and Cyna clocked in for the evening shift. He’s nicer than he was in the beginning, at least. I think I could like him.

She actually thought she could do a whole lot better than just ‘like’ him, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

“Everything is ready for you,” Odessa called out to her coworkers as she threw off the apron she wore around her waist. “Remember to do the restock at the end of the night—you do not have to wait for everyone to leave, you can start before as long as it is not too busy!”

“Stop worrying about us and go enjoy your, uh…date or whatever,” Rumi said, waving her off.

“It is not a date,” Odessa said, while her heart leapt in her chest. 

“Okay, don’t get murdered then, I guess!”

Odessa rolled her eyes and left the other two girls to figure out how to survive without her covering for them as she quickly ran outside to take the napkin out of her pocket. It was a little damp from where she spilled beer on herself trying to carry too many mugs at once, but at least the ink hadn’t bled. Ghoul’s handwriting was messy, but legible, and the address he left her was in an area she only partially knew, located near one of the large military bases. Curiosity consumed her—normally she would always refuse the offers she received from patrons to take her out after work, but this felt different. 

Ghoul’s intentions were a mystery, but the fact that he had wanted her to meet him instead of waiting for her so they could go together kept Odessa grounded in reality; it wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

She had to stop twice to ask for directions, but once she made it past the base she had a better idea where she was headed.

And it was a surprise.

It made sense that there’d be a firing range right outside of a military base, but it had never occurred to Odessa to visit one. She couldn’t legally own a blaster anyways, so learning how to shoot was just something that had never crossed her mind. She could almost hear her father’s voice echoing around her thoughts, telling her there was no point in teaching her since she wouldn’t be joining the rebellion—her heart throbbed painfully with the memory, her throat suddenly tight as she remembered the angry tears she had spilled over the argument.

Suddenly she…didn’t feel so sure about this anymore.

But, true to his word, Ghoul was waiting for her outside. He took up more than his fair share of a bench, smoke curling from his mouth as he exhaled off a cygarette. He saw her coming in the same second she noticed him and quickly stubbed out the death stick before she got too close. Odessa didn’t mind the smell, but it was a nice gesture.

“I was not expecting this,” she said as soon as she was close enough that she didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Are you sure I am allowed to go in?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Ghoul asked, giving her an odd look. “It’s mostly clones, but the range is open to the public; if anyone looks funny at you, just tell me. I’ll set ‘em straight.”

She had meant it more in the sense of legality, whether it was okay for her to even look at a blaster, let alone go inside a building where she assumed she’d be surrounded by them, but something about the way Ghoul reassured her filled her with a sense of calm. He wouldn’t have brought her here just to humiliate her in some way. 

“So what is this place?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the seemingly endless walls; it was at least three stories tall. “What are we going to be doing?”

“Just some target practice,” Ghoul said, opening the door; he started to go in first then seemed to think better of it, and stood aside to gesture her in ahead of him. Odessa  hugged herself nervously, but allowed him to usher her inside the cool, air-conditioned room. As her eyes adjusted to shift in brightness, she felt him nudge her with his elbow toward another set of doors past a counter and rows upon rows of blaster power cells. There were a few people browsing, a couple of standard clones who didn’t appear to have any self-imposed modifications as well as a human woman wearing custom armor. 

“I do not know how to shoot,” Odessa heard herself say as the distant sound of blasterfire sent cold shivers running up and down her arms.

“I know,” Ghoul said from right behind her, “I’m going to teach you.”

Father would be displeased, she thought to herself. He had done everything in his power to keep weapons of any kind out of her hands from the earliest age she had begun to show an interest in learning to use them, and he had forbidden everyone her family knew from teaching her in secret. He was well-respected within their village and didn’t fear disobedience from anyone.

But this wasn’t Ryloth and Ghoul, she suspected, feared no one.

Trepidation began to loosen its hold on her as anticipation slowly took its place. Odessa allowed herself the freedom to look around, watching with interest as Ghoul accepted a black duffel bag from one of the workers behind the counter; they looked at her strangely for a moment, but he leaned in and tapped his finger sharply against their shoulder.

“She’s with me,” he said brusquely. 

And that was the end of it. The employee found something far more interesting to stare at and Ghoul jerked his head at Odessa as he shoved open the doors that led into a brightly lit hallway. It stretched in both directions for what seemed like the entire length of the building, the white expanse of wall broken up by steel doors stenciled with a combination of letters and numbers. Ghoul took off to the right with the bag slung over his shoulder, headed for a predetermined destination and it was all Odessa could do to keep up with the length of his stride. She could tell he wasn’t used to being followed, or having to wait for someone to catch up. He was single-minded in his intent to get to where they needed to go.

“I have never held a blaster before,” Odessa admitted as he wrenched open door H19.

“We all start out that way,” he said, unmoved by her excuses. “You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Get in.”

She hurried to obey, scurrying under his arm as he held the door open for her. The room she entered looked smaller at first, until she realized it was only the width that made it seem so. The walls were covered in a soft, fabric material and a barrier separated the small area where they stood from the rest of the room, which stretched roughly forty-five meters to the other end. Odessa could see a series of targets lined up, sheets of paper sporting dark outlines in the rough shape of Separatist droids.

“They are so far away,” she said, “how will I be able to hit anything?”

“I do it all the time,” Ghoul snorted as he dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and knelt by it. He ripped open the zipper and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a black, hard case, followed by a second one. Odessa’s heart rate spiked erratically when he popped the locks open to reveal a set of matching blasters. They looked much smaller than what she had seen before, but her memory betrayed her—those had been Separatist weapons, not Republic. The design Ghoul held was sleeker, fitted for organic hands, the grip situated closer to the trigger. 

The lump in her throat grew and she felt as though she couldn’t swallow around it. The chill crept back into her flesh, raising tiny bumps all along her arms and shoulders. She wrung her hands together, seriously contemplating telling him that she didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to hold that cold, black thing in her hands, didn’t want to hear the sound it made when it went off.

“Here,” Ghoul said as he got back to his feet. He fit the other blaster into a holster on his hip, and she realized that these were his own personal weapons. He took hold of her elbow and dragged her closer to the barrier, setting the blaster down on the narrow siding. “I’m not an idiot, so we’ll go over safety first. This is the end blastbolts come out of; obviously, don’t point it anywhere you aren’t willing to shoot. This is the grip, the trigger, the power cell fits into here, and this is the safety switch.”

Odessa’s head swam as she watched him point out the parts of the blaster, information she realized she had already known, but had buried deep inside of her. She tried to say something, but the inside of her mouth felt as though it were filled with dust and she had to wet her teeth before trying again.

“That one there,” she said, pointing to a red button, “that is…for stunning?”

“Yes, good,” Ghoul said, sounding surprised. “We don’t use it on the range though; it doesn’t leave a mark and most of us are interested in our scores.”

“Score?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Now, look at this.”

His hands moved quickly and efficiently over the blaster, holding it at an angle away from himself as he popped the power cell containment. The cylinder fell into his waiting palm after a good tap and he set it aside. In the next moment he swept his arm up and pointed the blaster toward the target hanging at the other end; Odessa slapped her hands over her tcharan as he pulled the trigger…but nothing happened.

“It’s got no charge to it,” Ghoul said as he looked down at her. There was something close to amusement in his expression, she thought, but it was difficult to tell with his prosthetic. She knew though, just from the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled despite the scarring. 

“That was mean,” she said as she dropped her hands, cheeks burning in embarrassment, like she should have known better.

“It’s educational. Here, you can hold it now that it’s safe.”

He held the blaster out to her expectantly, but Odessa just stared at it. It looked so small in his hand, so unassuming, like a little toy. It was…difficult to believe the power it held…the danger it represented. She thought of her father and the way he would disapprove…and she thought of her mother, laying on the floor in front of her, eyes glassy and unseeing as smoke rose from a hole in her chest.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat and forced herself to swallow it back down, forced herself to reach out and grab the weapon before she let her fear get the best of her.

It was as cold as she expected it to be but weighed heavier in her palm than its compact design had led her to believe. She closed her hand around the textured grip and Ghoul shuffled to stand just behind her shoulder, so close she could have leaned back just a bit and her lekku would brush against his chestplate.

“Remember what I said,” he murmured, “don’t point it at anything you don’t wanna shoot.”

“I have been paying attention,” Odessa murmured back as she slid her other hand along the side of the blaster, feeling it out. She toggled the safety switch and pressed the button that switched the modes for stun and kill, popped the bottom of the grip where the power cell fit in place, but avoided the trigger entirely. She didn’t know if she could do it, even while it presented no danger. 

Ghoul observed her quietly, his presence at her back offering some comfort. She trusted that he knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Odessa knew he wouldn’t have invited her out to the range if he hadn’t thought her competent enough to at least try to learn. She still didn’t understand why, but…there was a part of her that didn’t want to disappoint him. He had come all this way and went through who knew how much trouble just to see her inside the building…it would shame her too much to back down now, after his show of trust.

Hesitantly, reluctantly, she slid her finger around the trigger and pulled back. 

It didn’t budge.

“It is broken,” she said apologetically, after trying again with both hands to no avail. 

Ghoul snorted and reached around her. He touched the back of her hand before his finger joined hers on the trigger, helping her hold it steady. The noise she swallowed would have been embarrassing, had she let it slip past her lips.

“Don’t yank on it,” he muttered, his breath a warm puff against the back of her lekku. “You gotta squeeze.”

He demonstrated what he meant, helping her slowly pull back until the trigger clicked, indicating it would have fired a shot.

Odessa squeezed her eyes shut—this time, the chill that ran up her spine had nothing to do with fear.

“I do not understand why it is so hard,” she said, trying to distract herself from how close Ghoul stood to her. She swayed in place and felt her hip brush against his kit; in response, or maybe just because, he took a step back.

“It’s to guard against accidental discharge,” Ghoul said. “You get used to it after a while. Ready to try with a live cell?”

“I…I do not know,” Odessa said, biting her lip. She set the blaster down on the siding the way she had watched him do before, and turned to look at him. “Why are you teaching me this? I am…not a soldier.”

He blinked down at her, his eyes giving away nothing. She didn’t know if it was because they were cybernetic or because he was trying very hard to school his expression, but he had always been more difficult to read for that reason. 

“You don’t have to be a soldier to need to know your way around a blaster,” Ghoul said, his hands on his hips. “Consider these self-defense lessons.”

“But I do not own a—”

“I’ll deal with that later. Look, do you wanna do this or not?”

Odessa looked back down the range at the target. It was so small and so far away; there was no way she’d ever be able to make such a shot on her own, not even in the case of an emergency. If she were ever in a position where she was caught unawares, she’d have no choice but to surrender without a fight.

She closed her eyes and her mother’s stared back at her, dull and empty, lifeless.

“Yes,” she said, inhaling sharply. “Yes, I want to.”

“Good.”

Ghoul knelt back down and dug through his bag again, coming back up with a pair of protective earmuffs and glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been used in a very long time.

“Will these fit?” he asked, holding both items out for her to take.

Odessa took the heavy earmuffs in hand and turned them over, pulling on either earpiece to see how far they stretched. 

“I think so,” she said, trying them on. They were a little tight over her tcharan, but the sound of her own voice was muffled now. The glasses fit her awkwardly, but they were not made with Twi’lek anatomy in mind.

“What about you?” Odessa asked when she saw Ghoul stand back up without any additional safety gear for himself. 

“Relax,” he said, then reached to his ears to fiddle with his hearing aid. “Volume’s down, so talk louder if you want me to hear you. Here’s the power cell. How you watched me take it out? It goes back in the same way. Just push until you hear the click. The gauge shows how much of a charge you got left. Keep the safety on until you’re ready to make your shot.”

Odessa’s hands shook as she tried to follow his directions. She felt clumsy, like a child trying to figure out a new toy for the first time. It didn’t help that she felt his eyes on her, judging her for the amount of time she wasted trying to do what he could in seconds. 

“There,” she said as the gauge lit up, showing a full charge. “Now what?”

“Now you point it at the target, line up your sights, and squeeze the trigger.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she grumbled loudly, holding her arm out to point the blaster toward the target.

“Both hands,” Ghoul growled, roughly tapping her other shoulder. His fingers were hard and sharp, jabbing into her painfully. Odessa scowled but corrected her grip with one hand cradling the other. She heard him sigh in exasperation and he reached over her shoulder again, pressing against her back to do so.

“Extend this finger,” he said, uncurling her pointer that wasn’t on the trigger. “Hold it against the barrel like this; it helps steady your shot.”

“Do you normally teach?” she asked as her lekku twitched. He was so broad, so warm. Her heat-seeking heart wanted to lean into him, which was a silly idea, very stupid. She distracted herself by tapping her newly extended finger against the side of the blaster.

“I don’t waste my time with shinies,” Ghoul said. “They got instructors on Kamino for that. How’s that feel?”

“Like I am holding a blaster in my hands.”

“Alright, smartass. Go ahead and take your time. Shoot only when you’re ready.”

“I am going to miss.”

“Probably.”

Odessa pouted, but their banter felt…a little more playful this time. She could swear Ghoul was enjoying himself. Already he had spoken more words than he ever had before and had invaded her personal space twice. She didn’t mind it at all, even though it put her back in the headspace she had been trying to escape from for the past two months, where thoughts of the way his hands might feel on the ends of her lekku tormented her. She wondered how much of his prosthetic jaw was for show. 

“I am aiming,” she said, closing one eye to try and focus down the tiny sights on the top of the blaster.

“Eyes open,” Ghoul ordered. Odessa made a noise of frustration and glanced over her shoulder to shoot him a little glare. Nonplussed, he shrugged.

“You see better with both eyes open,” he said. “It’s common sense.”

“Okay,” she said, licking her lips as she refocused. It was such a small target, impossible for anyone except an expertly trained soldier…but she took a deep breath, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and squeezed the trigger the way Ghoul had shown her, slowly exerting pressure until she felt it give.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa yelped as the blaster fired, the recoil reverberating up through her hands and into her forearms. It tingled in the same way her leg felt when she sat with it folded beneath her for too long, like it had gone to sleep. Fuzzy was the right word. She could taste her heart in the back of her throat, heard the blood rushing through her head. For a moment, she almost felt dizzy. Quickly, Odessa flicked the safety back on and set the blaster down, taking a step back and bumping into Ghoul as she did so.

His hands flew to her shoulders for the briefest of moments, then fluttered away, like he was…unsure about the ways he could touch her. Small gestures seemed to be alright, but anything more set him on edge, though whether he was being considerate of her own comfort over his was unclear.

Odessa took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes again, counting through numbers until she didn’t feel like her legs were going to give out from under her. When she looked toward the target to see whether or not she had hit it…there was only a blackened mark on the wall far to the left…and about a meter too high.

“I told you I would miss,” she said, ripping off the earmuffs. “This is pointless.”

"It's only pointless if you give up. Stop whining."

"The target is too far away! How can anyone hit it from back here?"

Ghoul sneered and reached for his blaster so quickly Odessa barely had time to pull her earmuffs back on before he fired. Unlike her, he held his blaster in one hand and aimed from a sidestance and unlike her, all three of his rapidfire shots hit the target dead center, three perfect holes that made her one attempt look even more pathetic.

“You missed because it's your first time, " Ghoul said. "And you closed your eyes at the last second. And your stance is…kriffing awful. Come on, put those back on and try again. You’re not leaving until you can at least hit the target.”

She almost refused…but she remembered the way she had cried when her father took her brother out to show him how to use a blaster, leaving her behind. It had dug a hole in her heart, one so small it had been easy to ignore for the past decade. This…could very well be her only chance to learn what she had been denied so long ago.

With a sigh, Odessa pulled the earmuffs back on and tried to adjust them so they weren’t so uncomfortable. Ghoul waited for her at the barrier, and this time when she picked up the blaster his hand hovered over her arm, like he wanted to take hold. Odessa swallowed, the ends of her lekku curling.

“You can touch me, if you need to,” she said.

“...what?”

“I said…if I am standing wrong, you can touch me—to fix it.”

Ghoul didn’t say anything for so long that she thought he hadn’t heard her at all. Or maybe he was trying to find a way to refuse. She realized a little too late that her words could be taken the wrong way, out of context, and hoped he’d mistake her blush for one of stress. Another moment passed in which she considered telling him to forget what she had just said, but then she saw his fingers curl a bit in hesitation before he took hold of her arm, cupping her elbow in a firm grip. 

Odessa felt him press against her back, then jumped as he knocked his boot against her feet, kicking them a little further apart. His other hand fell to her hip—she imagined the way his last two fingers flexed against her, surely—and he used his hold to forcibly angle her body so one foot was planted ahead of the other. She wasn’t sure she felt any sturdier than she had before, but he seemed pleased at least.

“Now I shoot?” she asked, looking back at him.

He was close, so close she could see the fine details of his prosthetic, the black-on-black pattern etched into the pieces on either side of the bottom row of teeth, and the impossibly tiny screws holding them together. His eyes were more silvery than white, and the scarring surrounding them more extensive than she had previously realized. 

“Hold on,” he said. His hand had never left her elbow and he held tight as he leaned over her shoulder, unblinking as he adjusted her aim. Odessa found herself holding her breath as every inch of her became painfully aware of every inch of him. 

“Alright,” Ghoul said. “Go ahead and shoot.”

She squeezed the trigger too quick and the shot went wild, this time to the right of the target; the blastmark against the wall sat closer, but still a little too high.

“Stop tensing,” he snapped, squeezing her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I am not tensing!” she protested. “I am doing exactly as you said!”

“Like I can’t feel it? No one’s shooting back at you, so loosen up.”

He gave her a little shake that made her want to ‘accidentally’ step on his foot, but his criticism was valid. He was probably regretting his decision to teach her how to shoot now that he saw how bad she was at it, but Odessa didn’t want to give up. She wasn’t a quitter

“Again,” she said. “There is plenty of charge left. And you are on leave, are you not? We have time.”

She heard him sigh.

“Fine. Let’s try and make at least one passable shot.”

The next two attempts failed in the same way, with one narrowly missing the target and the other scorching the floor and almost sparking another argument. Ghoul’s frustration with her inability to make one clean hit was only matched by her stubborn refusal to back down. Her fifth shot did better—it clipped through the edge of the target, burning the paper. Ghoul still counted it as a miss and helped her adjust her stance again by just a small margin. 

Odessa’s hands felt numb, like they were filled with stinging insects. She could scarcely feel her fingers anymore and she truly had no idea how clones could do this day in and day out. She felt her respect for them climb ever higher, knowing how useless she would have been on the battlefield. She tried not to think of her father and the infamous I–told–you–so expression he wore whenever he was proven right. None of that mattered.

“I think I am beginning to get the hang of it,” she said when her next shot actually hit the edge of the target’s outline.

“Barely,” Ghoul snorted as he slid his hand further up her arm, toward her shoulder. “On Kamino they’d have dropped you back in the tank for reconditioning.”

“What’s that?” she asked, immediately curious. She had never heard him—or any clone, for that matter—speak openly about the watery planet from which they originated. Rumors ran rampant, of course, but she never trusted any piece of newsworthy information that didn’t come with sources attached.

“It’s…it’s when clones don’t do as well as they’re supposed to in simulations,” Ghoul said. Odessa felt the change in his grip as much as she heard it in the tone of his voice, the way his fingers stiffened and all the emotion bled out of him. He sounded so different, so guarded all of the sudden that she felt bad for asking.

“What happens?” she pressed, despite the warning signs that this was a subject best left alone.

“...they’re made to start over.”

She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but there was finality to his words that she didn’t argue. He didn’t want to talk about it and she didn't want to push him any farther. Whatever 'reconditioning' was, it couldn't be anything good.

"One more, I think," Odessa said, changing the subject to distract Ghoul. "I will hit the target this next time, I am certain."

"...we'll see."

He lowered his hand from her arm and took a step back, leaving her at the barrier alone. Without his support, she felt the ache in her shoulders more poignantly. The scent of burnt ozone hung in the air and the blaster felt slippery in her hands, a combination of the sweat from her palms and the heatsink compensating for the power cell and capacitors. She really didn't want to disappoint him….

Odessa inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled just as slowly. She stared down the sights of the blaster, lining them up with the target in the distance. 

Just squeeze, she coached herself. Slowly and firmly.

TSSEEW!!

The blasterbolt ripped through the paper, incinerating a good portion of the target's shoulder and chassis. It wasn't a direct shot, nor was it perfect, but it was a solid hit.

"Yes!!" Odessa cheered, setting the blaster down before jumping around in a circle. She beamed at Ghoul, who stood there with his eyebrows raised like he hadn't expected her to actually do any better.

"Your expert teaching has paid off!" she claimed as she set aside the earmuffs. "So now I sign up for battle, yes?"

He chuckled—actually chuckled— and shook his head.

"I didn't think you'd be able to do it," he admitted. "Guess I don't mind being proven wrong. Good job."

His praise, however small, made her feel as though she could float away. More than anything she liked the way he looked, the shape of his eyes narrowed the same way they would in a smile and the lines of his body more relaxed. She liked the easy way he talked to her now, versus his clipped way of speaking at 79s. He was…handsome, she thought. Not in the usual way, but…it was something else, something that wasn't necessarily physical.

Odessa continued to beam at him, feeling for all the world that she could launch into the sky, circle the sun, and come back down for a perfect landing. And she hadn't wanted to hold the blaster at first.

"Now what?" she asked, rocking on her heels. "More targets?"

"Not today," Ghoul said, stretching. "I need to get back to base. We only had an hour here anyway."

"Then next time," Odessa suggested, feeling very brave. "Next time we…try again."

Ghoul looked startled for a second, then confused. Did he not think she'd want to do this again, just to be around him if nothing else?

"It will be good practice," she insisted before he could say anything. "I am still not so good a shot…it will take more times before I can be like you."

That drew out another little snort of amusement and Ghoul shook his head.

"A whole war wouldn't be enough to get you on the same level as me," he said, "but you gotta start somewhere. Come on, pack up."

He made her discharge the blaster's capacitor before letting her pack it back into its protective carrying case, and then he hauled his bag back over his shoulder again and shooed her out the door. The target itself came with them, rolled up and tucked beneath his arm until he handed it to her to carry. Odessa hadn’t realized she would be allowed to keep it, but she was already making plans in her head where she would hang it as a memento in her apartment. 

The hallway was abandoned except for another pair of humans also ending their training session—not clones, she saw, but what looked like a father and son. Their hair color matched, at least. The boy looked scarcely older than thirteen and, still riding the high from making her shot, Odessa waved at him with a smile when he looked up.

He grinned and waved back enthusiastically—and too late she realized he waved with the same hand holding a blaster.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa didn't have time to react as the shot ricocheted toward them, but she felt an arm encircle her shoulders and push down, hard enough to send her crumpling to her knees mid-step. She curled in on herself instinctively, a hand coming up over the top of her head as she dropped, followed by the weight of another body against her back. The blasterbolt struck the wall, the floor, then the ceiling as it traveled down the hall, burning itself out and sending sparks everywhere. One of the lights flickered, damaged beyond repair, and several doors swished open as people came out to see what the commotion was.

She heard the noise of people shouting—“You karking idiot, who let that brat in here?! Take that thing away from him before it goes off again!”—and footsteps pounding against the floor, the loud, panicked cries of the boy—“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”—and the loudspeakers feeding an announcement into the air for everyone to remain calm. Her heartbeat sounded in her head like the staccato beat of a wardrum and she couldn’t move, frozen to the floor with the rolled up target clutched to her chest like it was her only lifeline.

The hard plasteel of Ghoul’s armor dug into her side, but then she saw his boot come into view. He knelt over her, practically straddling her hips for a moment before climbing to his feet. She caught a glimpse of his expression—incandescent with rage, yet it sent a thrill racing through her—and then he held out his hand to her.

“Get up,” he hissed. 

Odessa grasped at his gloved hand and let him yank her to her feet as though she weighed nothing at all, practically lifting her off the ground until she gathered her legs beneath her. Her limbs shook wildly and she gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath. 

“You hurt?” he asked, looking her over.

“N-no,” she replied. “Just startled, I think.”

“Good. Come on.”

He pushed her in front of him, steering her toward the exit doors with a hand on her shoulder; they passed the boy and his father, who were now surrounded by a combination of other patrons and employees, all of them shouting so loudly the sound of it hurt her head. Odessa pressed a few fingers to her temple to quell the throbbing and allowed Ghoul to guide her until they were both outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air, closing her eyes and trying to calm her nerves. She was rattled, but untouched. It was harrowing, but just an accident. No one was hurt. It was okay.

Ghoul paced about four meters away, already smoking a cygarette that she hadn’t noticed him light up. She could hear him muttering to himself, his tone dark and murderous; she didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he probably wanted to go back inside and give those two a piece of his mind. Maybe if she hadn’t been there he would have…or maybe he would have done worse, she thought, remembering the violent way he had reacted to the drunks at the bar. Maybe leaving had been the best option.

As the adrenaline wore off, Odessa felt exhaustion take hold of her, filling her limbs with a sluggish feeling that told her she’d sleep well tonight if the nightmares didn’t take hold. Too much excitement for one day, and she hadn’t even managed to change out of her work uniform. Ghoul dropped onto the bench by the wall, having already burned through half of his cygarette. 

“Are you alright?” Odessa asked as she joined him, gingerly taking up the space at the far end of the bench. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and all his muttering had ceased, replaced with a dark, haunted look that filled her with apprehension. His mood shifted him into someone unknown, but she didn’t want to simply ignore it in the hopes that he would return to the Ghoul of only a few moments ago.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely, inhaling on his death stick. “I get shot at all the time; it’s nothing new.”

“Not like this though,” Odessa said as she squirmed in place. “It is not supposed to be happening here.”

“...no. It was an accident—a kriffing stupid one. They need to ban that idiot until he teaches his brat blaster safety.”

“...thank you, for saving me.”

This time she was certain that was what he had done. There was no need to second guess herself when he had acted so quickly, putting himself between her and harm’s way like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wondered how much of his actions were due in part to his training, versus instinct. Or maybe they were the same thing to clones, who were bred to endure conditions worse than an accidental discharge. Odessa swallowed and looked up to the sky, painted in shades of orange and crimson as the sun began to set.

“Don’t need thanks,” Ghoul said beside her. “Just…did what I’m supposed to.”

“Still,” she sighed, “it was dangerous. Thank you.”

He grunted and flicked the rest of his death stick to the ground, getting to his feet again and jerking his head at her.

“Where do you live,” he asked, and there was a tiredness to his voice that she felt reflected in her bones. They were both worn out, it seemed.

“Not far, actually,” she said, also getting to her feet. “But you do not need to accompany me. I can find my own way.”

“Wasn’t asking permission,” Ghoul said. 

Odessa smiled and shook her head, but led the way back down a level, like she was headed toward 79s. Her apartment was very small, part of a series of lower-income housing funded by the Senate and rented mostly by immigrants such as herself. It was close enough to the bar that she walked to and from every shift, but far enough from the shelter that she had to take a skyliner with three transfers. 

They walked in silence the entire way, Ghoul managing to get through another whole cygarette before he seemed to finally relax. She hadn’t said anything, but she could tell that he had also been unnerved by the rogue blasterbolt. The difference between them was that he had still been able to take action, while she had all but seized up. Her father had been correct about her in a way that burned her to admit, but Odessa didn’t dwell on it for long. She didn’t want to end her day on a sour note.

“This one is me,” she said as she came to a stop in front of her door. Three flights of stairs and a balcony view was more than she ever could have hoped for, even if the inside wasn’t all that impressive. The paint of the door was cracked and peeling and the outside of the complex had seen better years. She didn’t think Ghoul would judge her for where she lived, so she didn’t let it bother her.

“Thank you again,” she said, turning to look up at him. “For the lesson, and for walking with me. You are full of surprises.”

Ghoul sniffed and avoided looking directly at her. Human skintones were all some variation of beige, pink and brown, but she could tell that he blushed from the way his ears reddened.

“It was nothing,” he said. “Just…felt like you should know how to shoot, since you’re always walking places by yourself.”

“You did not have to spend your precious time teaching me, but you did. I…enjoyed it very much.”

He squirmed like he was uncomfortable receiving her gratitude, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Odessa watched him for a moment, fighting the feeling building inside of her chest.

But why?

“Ghoul,” she said, to get his attention. He looked and she crooked her finger at him. “Come close.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in like he was expecting her to tell him a secret, turning his ear toward her to better hear. She giggled and reached for his face, standing up on her toes and sliding her fingers along his prosthetic jaw to turn him back to look at her. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was gentle, lingering just long enough for her to realize that yes, his upper lip was as soft as it looked despite the scarring, and she didn’t at all mind the way the prosthetic felt. It was cool beneath her fingers, smooth metal and synth-flesh married together in an impressive feat of engineering that allowed her to kiss him the way she had been thinking about for too long.

“Thank you,” Odessa said as she rocked back on her heels. “I had fun, despite being shot at. You are a very good teacher.”

Ghoul just stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. It wasn’t the first time she had managed to surprise him, but she was definitely beginning to master the act. She thumbed the line where the flesh of his cheek disappeared beneath metal and dropped her hand reluctantly. If she stood there any longer she would do something brash, like invite him inside. It was too much for one day, and she already had a lot to think about. She suspected sleep would not come easily for her, despite how tired she felt.

“I will see you again?” she asked. “At 79s?”

“Y-yeah,” Ghoul finally said, his voice raspy. 

“Good. Well…take care.”

She unlocked her door and slid inside, watching through the crack as Ghoul turned to leave, his movements halting and stiff. She watched as he glanced back at her door twice, a different look on his face both times; she had never met a man like him before, someone as guarded as he was, who didn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, and yet whose recent actions betrayed the very image he tried to project. 

Odessa watched until he descended the stairs out of view, then closed her door and leaned against it with a happy little sigh, her lekku flicking back and forth with delight.

I like him.

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

Written once again for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, and for Odessa my babygirl who deserves the world <3 (this one’s 25 pages i’m so sorry XD)

PART 3

Twenty-six rotations later, Fox finally found the time to spare. Ghoul woke up from subpar sleep to a dozen messages demanding he clear his day, dress down, and meet Fox outside the base. Transportation? Handled. Credits? Don't even bother bringing them. What's more, Fox somehow managed to pull the right strings to have Wolffe dragged away from a training exercise so he could join them. For the first time in…longer than he wanted to think about, they would be together again—just the three of them, like it used to be. It was more than Ghoul could have expected, it was everything he wanted and so he didn't complain when Fox wanted to wrap up their reunion at 79s.

He hadn't actually complained all day, not once, not even when Fox insisted on treating them both to an overpriced lunch at a restaurant too fancy to allow clones inside (but they did, because it was Fox, and Fox had connections that Ghoul and Wolffe could only dream of having). He didn't complain when Wolffe glared at him for trying to light up while Fox took a quick break to answer some important work messages that couldn't be ignored (He should’ve thanked me on bended knee for stubbing it out—waste of a perfectly good cyg.)

Ghoul didn't even complain when Fox dominated every conversation with talk about his work, gossiping about things he probably shouldn’t have, but it was Fox and Ghoul didn’t have it in him to ruin the mood by shittalking the Republic and every politician in it. Normally he wouldn't hesitate…but listening to Fox laugh and joke, watching Wolffe lower his stupid ‘Commander’ mask until he looked less like a boot and more like the brother Ghoul had adored before he had half his face blown off…it was worth it to swallow his pride, just this once.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Fox said as they huddled around a small table in a corner booth at 79s. “You feeling okay?”

Before Ghoul could think of something slick to save face, Wolffe came to his rescue, throwing an arm over his shoulders and giving him a rough shake. 

“He’s fine,” his brother said. “He let you drag us around Coruscant all damn day, didn’t he? He’s probably counting down the seconds ‘til you run off on us again.”

“That’s a fine way to treat me, after all I’ve done for you.”

“You offered,” Wolffe and Ghoul spoke in unison. Fox blinked, then laughed, threading his fingers through his hair and leaning his elbows against the table. 

Between the three of them they had managed to clear around seven drinks, with Wolffe imbibing his usual two and Ghoul having just finished the one he had been nursing for the last thirty minutes. Fox wasn’t anywhere close to being drunk or even tipsy, but his cheeks were flushed and he had a sleepy look in his eyes that Ghoul recognized as a telltale sign that he was close to tapping out just so he could hit his private quarters at the Senate and catch some much needed rest.

“Seriously though,” Fox said, “I’m glad we could do this. I know it’s rough trying to coordinate, but today was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

Warmth filled Ghoul from head to toe and he wished, not for the first time, that he could smile properly.

“Considering last time you were the one bailing on our plans, I’d say this makes up for it,” he rasped. “Least now we know how deep your pockets run.”

“Not that deep,” Fox chuckled. “But you two deserve to be spoiled a bit. What are big brothers for?”

“That’s the spirit,” Wolffe said, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs out beneath the table, crossing them at the ankle. He stretched, with a groan that turned into a yawn midway through. “How about one more round then—on you—before we call it a night?”

“You think you can handle one more drink?” Fox teased. “You look like you’re ready to be tucked in.”

“Speak for yourself. I could do this all night.”

He loved them. He loved them so much it hurt and even though he’d never say it out loud, Ghoul knew he’d die for them—not for the Republic, not for their stupid karking war, not for credits or glory or any other meaningless thing…but for his brothers he’d gladly lay down his life if it meant having the peace of knowing they’d always be able to have nights like this, carefree and content to laugh and joke and drink as much expensive booze as they wanted. 

Maybe it was the alcohol that was making him feel so sentimental—that’s what he was going to blame it on, at any rate. Wolffe would strangle him if he could hear the thoughts running around inside of Ghoul’s head, but he couldn’t help himself. His life wasn’t worth much no matter what anyone said…but Wolffe and Fox? He’d give every last drop of blood in his body for them, without a thought.

If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend that things were how they used to be, that they had all just received promotions and fresh marching orders and had gone out to celebrate in the best way they knew how; he could pretend to ignore the phantom pain in his right arm and the sharp ache in the sockets of his mandible where they had drilled deep into the bone to anchor his prosthetic jaw. He could pretend to see his brothers without seeing everything, and he could pretend that he hadn’t had to manually adjust his hearing aids more than a dozen times that day just so he could keep up with their conversation.

But his imagings were fleeting, shattering at the sudden twinge of numbness in his left hand where his prosthetic fingers had never fully integrated with the nerve endings. It faded as quickly as it came but left a hollow pang of envy in his chest when he looked over at Fox, who had seen plenty of battle yet managed to escape unscathed nearly every time, or at Wolffe who had been lucky enough to have only lost his right eye. Ghoul knew nothing good could come from blaming his brothers for their better fortune, but he was only a man, only human. He didn’t know what to do when those shameful feelings arose inside of him. 

Tell them? Admit that he hated watching them enjoy their food and drink as much as he was glad that they could? Confess that sometimes he felt like less than a man next to them, because of what was taken from him?

No, he’d sooner eat the end of his blaster. It wasn’t their fault he was so…so messed up.

Quiet was the best thing to be when he didn’t know what to say, or couldn’t think of anything to add to their conversation that wasn’t his usual griping about the government or the war. There were only so many times his brothers could tolerate his dissent before it bordered on treason. Ghoul knew they wouldn’t turn him in for airing his (completely justified) grievances, but he suspected they thought he was becoming a little…unhinged. There weren’t very many clones who were willing to speak out against the Republic or the Senate the way that he often did—those who had something to say had said their piece and deserted, or disappeared under ‘mysterious circumstances’, which was code for ‘got sent back to Kamino for reconditioning’.

As far as Ghoul knew, he wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

Distracting himself was the only way to keep his paranoia at bay, but it was a task made all the more difficult by his lack of armor. He would have worn his full kit had Fox not insisted on his casuals—”You’ll look like a grunt if you’re the only one of us in uniform,” his brother had complained before making him turn around to go change. “We’ll be right here with you, nothing’s going to happen. Promise.”—and though he had to admit it was nice to have more freedom of movement, the utter lack of protection made him feel as vulnerable as if he were sitting there naked.

Just a little while longer, Ghoul told himself as he bounced his knee up and down beneath the table.

“Oi, RUMI!” Fox yelled across the bar, waving enthusiastically to the girl behind the counter. The tendrils floating above her shoulders wriggled in response— Mikkian, Ghoul recognized—and she hurried over with a service smile in place.

“Lemme guess,” she groaned playfully, “another round?”

“Just one more,” Fox promised. “Rancor’s Breath, for all of us.”

“Catsblood!” Ghoul hissed across the table, tensing at the thought of trying to drink anything other than his preferred beverage.

“Don’t be lame,” Wolffe laughed. “Rancor’s Breath will kick you in the teeth and send you back to the barracks feeling like you just went three rounds with a Wookie.”

He didn’t want Rancor’s Breath—it smelled like shit and didn’t have the pleasant sort of burn that Catsblood did. There was nothing to enjoy about it.

But Fox grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled and Ghoul gave up, knowing that it didn’t really matter either way. It was just one drink.

“Alrighty,” the Mikkian said, “three rounds of Rancor’s Breath…man, you boys like to end the night strong, huh.”

“Is there any other way?” Wolffe said, giving her a wink.

Ghoul frowned as she flounced off.

“Where’s the other one?” he asked, immediately disliking how she just…accepted the order without question. Something inside told him that the Twi’lek would have brought him Catsblood regardless of what Fox or Wolffe said.

Fox furrowed his brow and pursed his lips.

“What other one?”

“...y’know. The other bartender. The Twi’lek.”

Wolffe leaned into his peripheral, staring in a way that made the hair on the back of Ghoul’s neck stand on end.

“What’s her name?” Wolffe asked.

Kark.

“The green one, right?” Fox said, looking up to the ceiling as if the answer was written up there in neon lights. “She’s pretty cute, I guess, if green’s your thing. Why? You like her or something?”

“No,” he snapped. “Just…haven’t seen her tonight. She was here the last two times.”

“What’s her name, Ghoul?” Wolffe repeated, getting closer.

“Uh….”

“Y’know,” Fox mused, “now that you mention it, there was something on the holonets about a couple of Academy boys getting thrashed real good…happened right here. It would’ve been around the same time we were supposed to meet up.”

DANGER! Ghoul’s hindbrain screamed at him. ABORT MISSION! ABORT!

“So what?” he said, leaning away from Wolffe’s unblinking stare. “They probably deserved it.”

“It’s weird though,” Fox continued, sounding contemplative, “there was no security footage of the fight breaking out, and the only bartender on duty was, if I remember correctly, your little Twi’lek friend.”

“She’s not my friend,” Ghoul rushed to say.

“Her name,” Wolffe said. “You don’t remember it?”

“Really weird how she didn’t see anything….”

“‘Cause nothing happened.”

Wolffe looked over at Fox, who looked back with a smirk.

“Hold him.”

“No!”

But it was too late; Wolffe wrapped his arm around Ghoul’s neck and dragged him over the seat and practically into his lap. Ghoul thrashed, trying to break free from the entrapment until he felt Fox drop his ass onto his legs, effectively pinning him across the booth. Just like that, it was over. He was done for.

“Get your fat ass offa me, I swear to karking—”

“Shhh, shhh,” Fox soothed. “Don’t be dramatic. We just want to know why the sudden interest.”

“.......”

“C’mon,” Wolffe said, digging his knuckles into the top of Ghoul’s head and rubbing a sharp little circle through what felt like his skull and into his brain. “You like her? You don’t like anyone. Except us.”

“Shut up!” Ghoul hissed, swatting blindly at Wolffe’s face and lifting his hips to try and dislodge Fox. The table tipped back when his effort jammed Fox’s knees against its underside, sending one of their mugs rolling off the edge and onto the floor where it bounced and rolled off into the shadows.

“You like her and you forgot her name,” Fox sighed in his most put-upon voice. “What would you do without a loving older brother to correct your mistakes?”

“I DON’T LIKE HER!!” Ghoul yowled before Wolffe tried to smother him with a hand over his mouth. Quick as a pit viper, Ghoul bit down on the soft flesh of his palm until he yelped and let go.

“Then why do you care so much about whether or not she’s here?”

“.........”

“Heeeeey guuuuys, I got your…uh…your drinks.”

The arrival of the Mikkian saved Ghoul from further humiliation. Sheepishly, Fox slid off of his legs and back around to the other side of the table to accept their drinks, and Wolffe finally released him in favor of nursing his hand.

“You bite like a fragging gundark,” Wolffe hissed after checking to see if the skin had broken.

“Don’t like it, don’t put your hand near my teeth,” Ghoul shot back.

The Mikkian looked between the three of them with wide eyes, obviously judging them for their roughhousing. If she decided to cut them off, Ghoul wouldn’t blame her; his forehead still felt flushed with embarrassment that could easily be mistaken for the aftereffects of too much alcohol. The memory of the three drunks he had dealt with burned bright though—he didn’t want to be associated with the likes of them.

Almost against his will, Ghoul looked over to where the majority of their short brawl had taken place. The glass casing and shelves beneath the bar had been replaced and the floor scrubbed clean, but he could still make out the faint outline of a bloodstain that had been allowed to coagulate for too long. With his eyes, he could tell it was from the tall man he had all but bludgeoned to death, just from the shape of the pattern etched into the flooring. It had felt so good to tenderize his face, after listening to all the kark coming out of his mouth.

“They deserved it,” Ghoul said out loud, after the Mikkian retreated back behind the bar. “The shit they were saying…you both would’ve done the same thing.”

“So it was you,” Fox whispered, leaning over his drink. “Are you crazy? If you had gotten caught, they would’ve shipped you right back to Kamino.”

“No one saw,” Ghoul lied, thinking about the couple of shinies from that night. “Besides, there wasn’t any proof it was me.”

“It doesn’t take much to set you off,” Wolffe said, having made himself comfortable in the corner, half his drink already gone. “What’d they say?.”

Ghoul shrugged and pulled his drink towards himself, wrinkling his nose at the acrid scent.

“Just the usual kark,” he grumbled. “Shit about clones. Stuff they don't know about.”

He could tell Fox wanted to scold him for taking such a huge risk; the look on his brother’s face bordered between worried and genuine upset as he struggled to find something to say that wasn’t overly judgmental. Wolffe, on the other hand, simply nodded in appreciation. 

“Regular people don’t get it,” he said. “They only know what they’re told. I hope you hit them hard.”

“Wolffe!”

“What should he have done? Just stand there an’ take it? You forgot what it’s like out in the field—this isn’t the Senate, where everyone plays nice. Lots of people still think of us as expendable.”

He may as well have spit on the word, for all the disdain he put behind it. Ghoul respected Wolffe’s position, even agreed with him on some aspects, but where Ghoul had dropped all pretense of giving a damn about the Republic or its machinations, Wolffe had found solace in his Jedi general’s acceptance of clones. It felt too close like benefaction to Ghoul, like…like they were expected to be grateful and fall to their knees thanking the Jedi for their benevolence. It felt wrong.

“Okay, okay,” Fox said, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Let’s just…forget I brought it up. Ghoul, do me a favor and just…be careful. I don’t want to tune into the network one morning and find out you’ve been court-martialed or something.”

“No promises,” Ghoul shrugged.

“Now about this bartender….”

“Kriff, lay off, will you? I don’t like her, I was just wondering where she is.”

“Looks like she’s clocking out,” Wolffe said, nodding toward the bar.

Ghoul whipped around just in time to see the Twi’lek hug her coworker before heading for the door. Her lekku swayed against her back, the striped pattern appearing, for a moment, as though it was moving all on its own. 

“I thought she worked the closing shift,” he said.

“...usually she does,” Wolffe said after a beat. “She’s got another job she goes to some nights. I guess they let her leave early.”

“Where at?”

“...you sure you don’t like her? You’re real invested.”

“For kriff’s sake,” Ghoul said, “a guy can’t be curious?”

“Not when it’s you,” Fox said. “Not when it’s about a girl.”

Ghoul groaned and almost slammed his head down on the table. He didn’t hate them…but sometimes he wanted to waterboard them until they shut up.

“I just…wanted to see if she was okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “Those guys…roughed her up a bit.”

Wolffe sneered.

“I hope you caved their karking skulls in.”

“I sure as hell tried.”

“Wolffe! Jenot! Enough!”

Fox’s tone brokered no argument. For a brief moment he wasn’t their brother, but their superior officer, all hard edge and sharp eyes. Both Wolffe and Ghoul held his glare for a second before dropping their eyes down to the table. It wasn’t often he flexed his authority over them, but they felt it each time he did. An awkward silence fell over them as Fox collected himself, stressed to the point where a visible vein throbbed in his temple. Ghoul watched the area pulse in time with Fox’s heartbeat.

“Stow it before someone overhears and puts two and two together,” his brother ordered. “I’m not bailing anyone out of the cell block tonight. You two have any idea the position this puts me in?”

“Yeah, between a rock and a hard place,” Wolffe drawled. “Just leave it alone, Fox. He did a good thing.”

“The law would say otherwise.”

“The law isn’t always right.”

Tension filled the air, crackling with the same kind of energy that had started the very fight Wolffe and Fox were arguing about. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t wanted things to get so out of hand. He had just wanted a nice day out with his two favorite people.

Ghoul stood up and slapped both gloved hands against the table. Wolffe and Fox startled, looking up at him with surprise.

“Where does she work?” Ghoul asked.

“Uh.”

“Rollo’s,” Wolffe said, almost immediately. “Club three levels down.”

“Isn’t that the Red Light district?”

“Sure is.”

Ghoul hesitated for just a second longer before shoving his untouched drink toward Wolffe.

“Finish it for me,” he said. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Wait,” Fox called out as he spun on his heel to leave, “where’re you going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ghoul said over his shoulder. “Thanks for hanging out…I had fun, believe it or not.”

He thought he heard Wolffe laugh as he made straight for the door and tried not to think of what they were going to say about him now that he had left. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t bear to watch them snipe at each other like that, even if it was considered normal between a group of clones who had grown so close. It was hard to love someone all the time, especially when they were busy being little shits. On his own, Wolffe had a terrifying reputation for being one of the most strict disciplinarians throughout the GAR—he was a hardass, but fair. But when they got together, like this? ‘Little shit’ might as well have been his call sign.

Fox could handle himself, though, especially now that it was just the two of them and they could simmer down. It was one thing if they were pissed at him…but they shouldn’t be at odds with each other. 

Outside, the streets were lit up with splashes of neon reflected in puddles collected from an earlier rainfall. More people than Ghoul cared to think about passed by, blocking his view until he bodied his way through the crowd. He had never been to Rollo’s before, had never even heard of it. Clones tended to stick to 79s due to the preferential treatment they received, but Wolffe sounded like he knew more than he was letting on.

Find her, make sure she’s good, move on, Ghoul thought to himself as he peered over the heads of other passersby. It shouldn’t have been hard to spot a bright green alien, but she had a good head start on him; she could already be a level down for all he knew, and he didn’t have any clue which direction he should head in. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface of his skin and he felt his temper rising to the surface. There were too many sounds, too many people crowding him on all sides—he just wanted them to get out of his way.

“Ghoul!”

The sound of her voice cut through the noise so clearly it was like a homing signal sent straight to his hearing aid. For a moment he couldn’t see her, but then the crowd parted and he caught sight of her waving at him from across the bridged walkway, leaning over the edge and smiling so brightly he almost looked behind him to see if there was someone else she was greeting. But no, there was only him, and only her. He didn’t understand her enthusiasm, but at least she hadn’t gotten too far.

Ghoul shoved someone out of his way, some idiot Bothan walking too damn slow for the rest of the population, and pushed through the torrent of people until he reached her.

What is her name, he wondered, hating that he forgot it so easily while knowing he hadn’t bothered to pay attention in the first place. He didn’t know if ‘guilt’ was the right word, but he knew he didn’t like the advantage she had over him. He needed to level the playing field.

“What a surprise!” she said, her smile never leaving her face as she looked up at him. Her eyes were huge, round and inquisitive, a brilliant blue he had never seen before. “Were you at 79s? I am sorry to have missed you!”

Make sure she’s good, move on.

“Yeah,” he said, standing there with his arms held stiff at his sides. “I saw you leave.”

“Yes, I would have enjoyed staying, tonight will be busy and Rumi gets overwhelmed. But I must work at my other job.”

“...Wolffe said…it was Rollo’s.”

Something crossed her face then, when he said the name of the club. Nervousness, maybe. He didn’t blame her for how it looked, a veritable stranger chasing her out of a bar and then telling her he knew exactly where she was headed. He sounded like a stalker, though it wasn’t his intention.

“It is,” the Twi’lek said, averting her gaze. “I wish he had not told you…I do not like my patrons knowing where else I must work.”

“Why?” Ghoul asked, genuinely curious. 

She hesitated and drew one of her lekku over her shoulder, holding it like it was a comfort to do so.

“It is not reputable,” she admitted softly, just loud enough that he could still hear her without her having to announce it to the whole street. “But I am in need of credits. I cannot take enough shifts at 79s to cover bills, so I…I dance a few nights a week at Rollo’s.”

He…wasn’t expecting her to be so honest. Ghoul wasn’t sure he would have admitted to anything like that, if he was in her position. All she had to say was ‘dance’—he didn’t need details, the blanks were large enough to draw his own conclusions. Unbidden, the image of her twirling around a stage wearing less than she was now entered his mind. He squashed it immediately, but not before he felt a sudden drop in his gut.

“Isn’t it dangerous?” he asked, pushing past the feeling. “Walking by yourself?”

“I suppose,” she said, slowly, like she wasn’t sure why they were having this conversation—truthfully, Ghoul didn’t know either. He had followed after her with a plan in mind, but now all he could think about was the way she had looked pressed against the bar, that asshole restraining her so easily with one hand on her wrist. She hadn’t once asked for Ghoul’s help, like she had never expected him to even lift a finger to come to her aid; he didn’t know why that made him feel so shitty all of the sudden, but it did. 

He didn’t care. He told himself he didn't have it in him to care for anyone but himself, Wolffe, and Fox ever again. Why should he stick his neck out for strangers who looked at him and saw nothing more than damaged product? Why should he give a damn about people who didn’t give a damn about him? His brothers could ignore the whispers and the staring, they were confident in their positions and they had their units to look after. They didn’t care because they had bigger things to worry about. Ghoul didn’t care because the alternative was caring too much, and he refused to let himself be blinded by patriotism again.

The Republic didn’t care about them.

No one cared about them.

“I want to ask you something,” he said suddenly, interrupting the Twi’lek before she was about to speak. She blinked at him, as though shocked that he would want to. The smile was gone from her face and she tilted her head to the side, considering him. It felt like being caught in a sniper’s crosshairs, made his skin itch. 

“Okay,” she said eventually, huffing a little laugh. “Go ahead then. Ask anything you like.”

“What does ‘schutta’ mean?”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, quickly looking around them as if to make sure no one had overheard. He watched the same expressions play out over her face as before, when the idiot drunk had called her the same word. He didn’t know the word but he knew it was bad. It had to be, to elicit such a visceral reaction. He noticed that she didn’t look as hurt as before…but he supposed it was because he was asking her a question and not insulting her directly.

“You ask a question I did not expect,” she sighed. “That is a very, very bad word in my mother tongue. It is…is like calling someone without reputation, or poor character.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Ghoul said.

She shook her head.

“You do not understand Ryl. There are…cultural significances. It is a word used only for Twi’lek women…it is like calling her a…a whore. Or slut.”

Oh. That was worse. He must have still looked confused though, because she bit her lip and hummed aloud.

“It is worse when it is said by another Twi’lek…like…it is telling someone that all of the things said by other species, all of the rumors and stigmas, every stereotype assigned to us, just because of the way we look and the way we sound, and even the way we dress…that all of that is true. It is…a deep betrayal, to be spoken by our own kind, one of the worst insults.”

She paused.

“It is like when someone calls a clone a tool. They do not understand how deeply it is meant to cut.”

Ghoul swallowed; this time enough synthetic lubricant had built up for him to complete the motion.

“But,” he said hoarsely, “why didn’t you hit him then?”

“He was not Twi’lek…and it is nothing I have not heard from humans before.”

“...then why did you hit him?”

“...because he insulted you.”

She said it so plainly, like it was the obvious answer and he should’ve known all along, and the accompanying look she gave him was another one filled with pity. He hated it, he hated it so much he wanted to rip her eyes out so she wouldn’t…wouldn’t look at him like…like….

“Ghoul?” she asked, reaching out to touch him. He flinched before her hand could make contact with his arm—it startled her enough that she paused, her fingers hovering over the sleeve of his jacket before she dropped her arm back down to her side.

“You deserve better than that,” she said, a quiet sadness in her tone that was only slightly more tolerable than the look in her eyes. “I do not abide rudeness, especially from fools who have never seen war. I will not listen to them slander you or your brothers. You are worth more than the three of them put together could ever hope to be.”

There was a part of him that wanted to believe her, a small, hopeful piece of himself that he hadn’t had the heart to let die yet. It was overshadowed by the part of him that immediately and coldly rejected her words; pretty as they were, they were just words. Words didn’t mean anything—words had sent him and his men to die on Toydaria and it was only words that had spared him from sharing in the same fate as his brothers.

There was nothing left to believe, nothing to trust.

But…she started that fight. She threw the first hand, not because they were drunk and belligerent, not because of the dirty karking things they called her (even though that should have been reason enough), but because they had called him damaged…and even though he knew he was…she refused to let it slide.

Despite his misgivings, he felt a tug in his chest, a painful tightness that almost filled him to overflowing. He didn’t know what it was or what to do with it, but when he looked down at her face, into her eyes, he couldn’t see anything that indicated she was lying. She looked back at him without fear or disgust and she smiled in a way that drew attention to the soft shape of her lips and the dimples that formed in her cheeks. His heart thudded against his ribcage, shaking him from within.

“Let me walk you to your job,” Ghoul said, clenching his left hand into a fist. “I…to make it up to you.”

“Make up what?” she asked, still staring at him with her impossibly bright eyes. “You do not owe me anything.”

“...just say yes.”

She tilted her head again. 

“...very well. Since you are being so insistent. I would enjoy the company, actually. Do you know the way?”

“Uh, no.”

She giggled, the sound enough to make his stomach perform a barrel roll inside of him.

“Then come, I will show you. Better stay close though, I would hate to lose you in this crowd.”

She adjusted a backpack over her shoulder that he hadn’t noticed until now and turned to lead the way to one of the sketchy repulsor lifts that connected to the next level, and Ghoul followed dutifully, his eyes glued to the back of her head and the way the ends of her lekku intertwined.

Not a problem.

~~~

Odessa could barely contain the bounce in her step. 

After the last time, she hadn’t expected to see Ghoul again. Not for a very long while, at least. She had been so thorough in creating a false trail that the investigation had wrapped up within a week and the matter dropped entirely after the ‘suspect’ couldn’t be located. The victims of the beating had refused to talk, as she had predicted, and since insurance covered the cost of damages at the bar, her boss didn’t even put up a fuss. In fact, he had given her a few days off (with half pay) to recover from the incident.

Apart from some bruising to her back and her lek, she hadn’t been any worse for wear. It wasn’t the first time she had witnessed a bar fight, but it was the most brutal, and the only one in which she had been directly involved. It had taken hours for her to calm the rapid beating of her heart after Ghoul had fled; sleep didn’t come for her that night either, leaving her awake and staring at the ceiling of her tiny apartment to replay the events of the day over and over until she was certain there was no other way she could have handled the situation.

As long as Ghoul wasn’t suspected, that was all that mattered to her. If she never saw him again then at least she could rest easy knowing that she had done her part to protect him. It would be enough.

But, as her mother would often say, the Force flows in trickles and torrents; one never knows where their path may take them.

Seeing Ghoul again made her feel warm all over, like laying out under the sun after a long day spent indoors. He probably didn’t mean to infect her with such a feeling, but she couldn’t help but be endeared to him after all that had happened. She couldn’t look at him without wanting to know everything about him, but he was as reticent as he was unapproachable.

“You are very quiet,” Odessa said by way of observation. “I hope I have not annoyed you too much in the past; it is part of my job to make conversation, but I also enjoy it and know that sometimes it is easy for me to get carried away.”

They walked side by side, sometimes brushing close when the crowd thickened around them. She noticed that he tried to keep a bit of distance between them otherwise, like he would prefer it if they didn’t make contact at all. From the way he had flinched when she had tried to comfort him earlier, Odessa guessed that he didn’t enjoy casual touch. 

“I’m not…much of a talker,” Ghoul admitted after a beat. “I don’t really have anything to say.”

“I do not believe that,” Odessa said. “Everyone has at least one topic they would like to ramble on about for ages. Has no one ever given you the space to try?”

“...most people don’t tolerate the things I talk about.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What sort of things?”

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, like he wished she’d stop questioning him. Odessa’s first instinct was to apologize and back off…but he was walking her to her job and it would be so awkward to walk in silence…besides, a little bit of discomfort was good for the spirit.

“It’s considered treasonous,” he eventually growled, “for clones to speak ill of the Republic. We’re supposed to be grateful.”

“You mean criticism of the war,” Odessa immediately realized. “Ah, I did not think you would be into politics!”

“I wouldn’t call it that…it’s not like I stay up an’ listen to recordings of the Senate meetings.”

“Oh…that is what I do,” Odessa laughed. “But I volunteer at a center for extra-planetary refugees, and it helps me to keep abreast of new policies concerning immigration.”

He looked down at her, his eyebrows arched high against his forehead.

“You volunteer and work two jobs? When do you have time for yourself?”

Odessa shrugged.

“Whenever there is a chance to relax I take it,” she said, “but I prefer to keep busy. I know how difficult it is to navigate Coruscant’s legal system, so I enjoy helping others so they do not have to struggle like I did.”

“...you’re an asylum seeker?”

Odessa’s breath caught in her chest. He couldn’t have known that was what they stamped in stark red Aurebesh at the top of her papers when she had first arrived on Coruscant, frightened and alone and having no idea what her next steps were. She still remembered begging her father through tears not to send her away and the distraught look on his face when he said it was for her own good, that he wouldn’t lose her like he had her mother. Her brother hadn’t even been able to look her in the eyes before hugging her goodbye and she had tried so hard not to resent him for it. At first she thought he was a coward for not standing up to their father…but she couldn’t blame him even now.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Many of my people who could not fight chose instead to escape in hopes of establishing a better life for themselves. Ryloth has been a battleground for so long that some of the children do not remember a time of peace.”

Ghoul scoffed and shoved a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. He shook one free expertly, pulling it out the rest of the way with his teeth.

“Only cowards run away,” he said shortly. 

“That is not true,” Odessa frowned. “Many refugees are families with small children, or teenagers and the elderly. Not everyone is capable of firing a blaster.”

“Then they should learn. You think it’s fair to me and my brothers, that we get shipped off to fight for a planet we never belonged to, to protect people who refuse to protect themselves? It’s kark.”

“I think it is more nuanced than you say…I would have stayed to fight, if my father would have allowed it.”

“You should’ve stayed anyway, if that’s what you wanted. You didn’t have to listen.”

“You do not know my father.”

Ghoul fished through his pockets for his lighter, then cupped both hands around the end of his cygarette to light it. Odessa watched with fascination as the spark of his lighter cast a warm, amber glow against his prosthetic jaw, reflecting against the row of teeth standing in decoration of a lower lip. Again, the urge to ask him what happened teased the back of her mind; it was easier to ignore this time.

“Don’t need to know ‘im,” Ghoul said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “You pick up a blaster and do your part. Stop waiting for more clones to die for your cause.”

“Like it is so easy,” Odessa snapped back, growing frustrated at the casual ease with which Ghoul dismissed the plight of her people. “If I knew how to shoot, I would have done everything in my power to stay. I did not want to leave, but I have made the best of my situation. I help where I can. You are ignorant to insinuate that everyone is as capable as you on the battlefield.”

“And you’re stupid if you think I give a damn.”

“The rudeness of you,” she muttered to herself. “I am not stupid.”

She fell silent, her feelings hurt and her lekku twitching in agitation. Her people were hugely sympathetic to the clone army—she remembered Cham Syndulla likening them to slaves possessing the illusion of free will. It had stuck with her ever since, and coming to know so many of them as she did, knowing them by their individual quirks and names, she couldn’t imagine how anyone could think they were less than human. 

Ghoul smoked quietly next to her, the only sounds he made coming from the soft expel of air when he exhaled. 

Finally, after they made it down another level, he sighed.

“I don’t…think you’re stupid,” he said haltingly, “I just…don’t understand. Ryloth is your planet—fight for it yourself.”

Odessa inhaled and reminded herself that his experiences were likely different from hers. She…could appreciate his outlook, even if she didn’t like his blunt method of delivery. 

“If we could have pushed back the Techno Union without aid, we would have,” she said patiently. “But their technology is more advanced and they possess weapons that we barely know how to use. Without the clone army, we would not have lasted as long as we have. You have no idea what it has meant to us, to have your kind fight alongside ours.”

“And what does it mean?” he asked sarcastically. “It’s not like we volunteer for these missions. We get orders, we follow them to the letter. We do what we’re told, when we’re told to do it. I think I speak for most of my brothers when I say we’d rather be anywhere else.”

She could see why he didn’t often talk about the things that interested him; not because the subject was taboo, but due instead to his caustic nature driving away anyone who might have wished to engage in an informed debate. Every word out of his mouth felt like a personal attack, like he carried so much anger inside of him that he couldn’t help where it leaked out. She had a feeling that he didn’t blame her personally, but that she made a convenient target for his grudge.

“I have met many troopers who were proud to serve alongside the leaders of our rebellion,” she said, remembering the praise her father heaped upon the clones he had met during a skirmish outside the capital city. “And I have known many of my people who hold them in high regard. Whether or not they want to be there, they are, and they fight with every bit of fire inside them. My people write songs about the battles they’ve won; we remember their names and we honor the fallen as we do our own. We are not blind to their sacrifice.”

“...songs?”

“Yes. We pass down our history through oral tradition, and one of the most popular methods is through music, song, and dance.”

The massive bonfire celebrations from her childhood were some of her fondest memories, filled with laughter and camaraderie as her people gathered together for festivities and feasts. There was nothing to compare to the joy she had felt riding her father’s shoulders as fireworks lit up the night sky and dancers reenacted great battles won thousands of years ago while a master storyteller recounted the details in dramatic fashion.

“Songs don’t bring people back from the dead,” Ghoul said, his expression troubled. “There’s no honor in dying.”

“We are in agreement there,” Odessa said, “and we are also arrived at Rollo’s. You are released from your burden of escorting me, it seems.”

The bright, flashing sign above the door featured a curvy Twi’lek with her leg kicked up in the air and was in poor taste; she didn’t usually pay it any mind but with Ghoul standing there she felt her cheeks light up with embarrassment.

“Thank you for walking with me,” she sighed. “You did not have to, but it was a kind gesture.”

“You shouldn’t be alone down here,” Ghoul said, pulling his cygarette away from his mouth with two fingers. “Don’t you have any friends who could stay with you?”

“Just you,” Odessa smiled. “You are the first ever to offer.”

She wanted to think of him as a friend. She wanted it, in spite of his behavior. He got under her skin with his bitter comments and rattled her sensibilities. She felt she could hold her own in a heated debate with him, that it’d be interesting and informative, and that he’d be able to open her eyes to a side of the war that she knew very little about. He was discourteous and antagonistic…but that didn’t make him wrong in his analysis. She thought…he must see things from a very different perspective.

He looked taken aback by the offhand way she called him a ‘friend’, almost choking on the next inhale of his cygarette. He coughed out another cloud of smoke and impatiently batted it away, fixing her with a frown and a look that wasn’t angry so much as confused. It was…beginning to be a look she almost enjoyed seeing, for the way it softened his edges.

“What about protection?” he insisted. “You got anything on you? A taser, or blaster?”

“I do not know how to shoot,” Odessa chuckled. “And I am unable to apply for the license necessary for a taser, let alone a blaster. Immigrants do not have as many privileges as you seem to think.”

“You…just walk around without anything to defend yourself.”

“I have not been attacked.”

“...what about what happened at 79s?”

“That was the first time. Perhaps I will think about it.”

He looked frustrated with her easy responses. 

It is the soldier in him, she thought to herself. He says he is not interested in fighting our battles, but he keeps looking for a way to help me fight mine.

“You do not need to worry about me,” she said soothingly. “I appreciate the concern you have…but it is not necessary to waste it on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” he said, quickly. Too quickly, from the way he suddenly froze. His ears turned pink, and Odessa watched, fascinated, as the flush spread to the exposed parts of his cheeks. Odessa felt her heart flutter and she smiled, looking down at her feet as a similar blush crawled up her lekku.

“You are very interesting to me,” she admitted, “and I have enjoyed our debate. You do not give much away about yourself, but I would still like to know more about you someday.”

“Why?” he asked, suspicious. 

Odessa shrugged and pulled one of her lekku over her shoulder, playing with the blunt tip.

“Do I need a reason to want to know you?” she asked. 

Ghoul narrowed his eyes and tossed the stub of his cygarette onto the ground before crushing it under the heel of his boot.

“Most people want something,” he said. His voice was raspier than before, like all of their talking had finally caught up to him.

“I am not ‘most people’,” Odessa said. “But you will find out for yourself, if you like.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hah. It can mean whatever you want it to. Now, listen—I must be going inside now…if you come with I will tell the bar to have a drink for you. We do not carry Catsblood here, but we have Ipellrilla firewater that is just as spicy, though not as smooth. You will not have to pay; it is my thanks for walking me here.”

Ghoul hesitated, looking up to the flashing sign and squinting against the bright neon. For a moment it seemed like he would refuse her offer; his body twisted away from her, one of his feet pointing back toward the direction they had walked from, down dark walkways lined with poorly maintained lights, back to the relative safety and familiarity of 79s. 

Please stay, she wanted to say, against her better judgment. Indulge yourself, just once.

“I didn’t do it for thanks,” he said gruffly. “Fine. Just one drink. You’re on your own getting back.”

Odessa beamed at him and, feeling as though she made a breakthrough, led him through the front doors. She felt the music before she heard it, a deep, pounding beat that made her feel like her heart was attuned to every pulse of the bass. She looked back over her shoulder in time to watch Ghoul wince, then reach up to his ears; by the time she realized he was adjusting hearing aids, it was too late to dwell on the fact that she hadn’t noticed them before now.

I won’t forget, she thought determinedly. 

The club hadn’t yet reached capacity, which meant there were still a few seats left open at the bar, and quite a bit of free wall space for patrons to lean up against if they didn’t feel like sitting. The space between the bartop and the stage was already crowded, every seat at every small table occupied by someone eager to watch the next girl dance her way into their lonely hearts and fat bank accounts. Odessa watched Nix, a tall, beautiful Rodian glide out from behind the curtain and bow to thunderous applause as her music set began to play. She was one of the more seasoned dancers at Rollo’s, a top earner who had taken Odessa under her wing the first day she had shown up looking for work.

Odessa knew Nix danced for three songs, and then she would be up next; she still had to get dressed and turn her setlist over to the DJ, so she quickly leaned over the bar and tugged on the sleeve of the bartender, a human named Geera. 

“I need an Ipellrilla firewater for my friend,” she shouted over the music when he leaned in. “I will pay for it later!”

“Sure thing, babe,” Geera shouted back, and immediately set to work making the drink. Odessa looked back to Ghoul with an apologetic smile and leaned in closer than she would have normally.

“Can you hear me?” she asked, keeping her voice raised. He only nodded—good enough. “Geera is making the drink and he already knows not to be charging you for it—if he tries to just walk away. I have to go!”

She turned to leave, ready to slip through the crowd and toward the dressing room at the back, but she felt fingers encircle her wrist before she could get too far, and then a tug, pulling her back. She didn’t try to fight it—she knew even without looking whose hand held her in a grasp that was equal parts firm and gentle. She almost stumbled, one foot clumsily missing a step and pushing her into Ghoul’s chest. She felt him stiffen, but he caught her other arm and held her steady, leaning down to speak directly into her tchara. 

“Be careful going home,” he said, his voice a low rumble. Odessa felt her breath catch for the second time that night; it held painfully between her ribs, feeling like a fist had reached deep inside of her and grabbed hold of her lungs, crushing them tight. She…she liked the way he sounded and the tickle of his breath against her skin. 

Silly girl, she scolded herself. Stop it!

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop the way her body responded to the feel of his hands holding her, his grip firm, or the way his body felt when he pressed her against him to avoid four large patrons on their way out. He felt solid, strong, like every bit of armor he normally wore existed just for show. So close, she could feel the thump of his heart against her shoulder pressed into his chest, and the way his stomach expanded as he sucked in a sharp breath. Odessa shut her eyes in a tight squeeze, biting the inside of her cheek to force away the sudden, inappropriate thought that just entered her mind.

Stupid, reckless. Leave him alone.

“Sorry,” she gasped, pushing away at the first opportunity. “Sorry, I did not mean it.”

“It’s…nothing,” Ghoul said, sounding a little…dazed. “You, uh, sure you dance?”

Odessa giggled nervously, her cheeks dark with a flush that was surely noticeable this time, even with the dimmed ambient lighting. She backed away, almost bumping into someone else before turning and practically rushing the crowd, dodging between bodies until she made it to the safety of the dressing room. She didn’t have much time—Nix was nearing the end of her first song.

Don’t think about it, she told herself as she ripped her costume out of her backpack and began to undress. Don’t think—it was an accident, just an accident.

As accustomed as she was to changing quickly, she felt like she was rushing through her normal steps to ensure her dancer’s outfit sat perfectly. She wouldn’t be taking it off, unlike Nix and some of the others who stripped naked, but it was more of a matter of professionalism for her to ensure it looked good. The sheer, black bottoms fastened tight around her ankles, a wide slit running all the way up to her hip to leave her legs bare. Beneath them she wore plain black underwear, cut cheeky enough in the back to tease but still far too modest to save her from being teased for being a prude. The black top was little more than a glorified bra, but was decorated with intricate stitching and held her breasts securely while she danced. A matching headdress and delicate gold lekku ornaments completed the look.

She barely had time to apply a golden, shimmery eyeshadow and black lip before Nix sauntered through the door, naked from the waist up and waving fistfuls of credits in the air.

“It’s a good night tonight!” she said in Huttese while her translator scrambled to catch up with her excitement. She flicked it hard, causing it to buzz before it started working properly again.

“Odie,” she said, hands on her hips, “you’re barely ready! What are you doing?”

“Could you give the DJ my setlist?” Odessa begged, hurrying to press her finger into her nearly empty container of gold glitter and dabbing it against the arch of her cheek. “Please? I am running so very late!”

“That’s what you get for hugging up on that clone instead of getting ready,” Nix said, snatching the datachip from Odessa’s dressing table. “He’s an ugly one, isn’t he?”

“Shut up, Nix!” Odessa snapped, immediately regretting it. “Ugh, sorry, I am sorry. Please?”

“Oooh,” Nix laughed. “That was a little feisty. Alright, I see how it is. I’ll keep my comments to myself. Hey, I hope he enjoys your dancing!” She threw a sweater over the top of her head and fluffed her mohawk, hips swaying as she left. Odessa groaned and hopped on one foot, then the other as she attached the jangly ankle bracelets to complete her look.

Just in time, too, as the DJ announced her set and called her to the stage. There was no time left to think about what had just happened, the way anger had filled her at Nix’s insult,or the way her body still felt so warm. No room for error while she danced; she was already working at a disadvantage with her refusal to strip completely, so she had to make sure she was perfect in every other way.

Think about the rent, she told herself as she stood at the curtained entrance, bouncing on her heels as she tried to force her head into the right mindset. Think about bills. Think about anything except him.

The lights aimed at the stage went dark and Odessa took her chance, slipping out from behind the curtain and onto the stage, taking her place at one of two vertical poles. The metal felt slippery in her hands and she realized too late that she was already sweating. But there wasn’t time—the first beat of the music dropped and the spotters snapped on, casting everything on stage in dim, sensual lighting.

She knew her piece by heart, from the graceful movement of her arms as she followed the flow of music to the grip of the pole between her thighs when she jumped on it, letting her momentum spin her around and around. She could hear the blood rushing through her head as she flexed her thighs around the pole, holding on with one hand as she leaned back so far the ends of her lekku almost kissed the floor, trailing her arm out as if she meant to touch the audience. 

The beat carried her back to the floor, where she danced in ways that the crowd expected, undulating her body with the intent to intrigue and seduce. Her flexibility served her well as she fell into a handstand, mindful of her lekku while pedaling her legs slowly, performing a perfect split that she held for a few seconds before smoothly transitioning back into a standing position. She could feel the music inside of her, a percussive tempo that made her blood run wild and made her forget that she should be ashamed to play into the stereotype afflicting Twi’leks. Her father and brother would die of mortification if they knew, and so they would never know.

She flew back to the pole, climbing it all the way to where it anchored into the ceiling before wrapping her leg around to hold it in the bend of her knee. Giving herself a little push she spun, slowly slipping down the entire length while she ran her hands down her body, slowly teasing, teasing, teasing the audience with something they could never have. The floor pressed against her back and she kicked her feet over her head, giving the crowd a perfect view of her ass as she climbed back to her feet.

Lost as she was in the music, Odessa opened her eyes near the end of her first song, looking for the one person she half-hoped already left. A part of her did not want him to see her here, like this…but another part didn’t care, and wondered if he had also felt…heated, in the blood, when they had pressed together earlier.

She cast her eyes at the end of the bar as she twirled across the short distance to the other pole, leaning heavily against it as she kicked her leg high as it could go above her head. 

Ghoul stared back at her from where she had left him against the wall, his eyes wide and so pale they appeared to shine in the darkness of the club. 

Odessa felt her heart jump into her throat and she quickly turned away so she wouldn’t have to see him anymore. The second song picked up and she almost missed her cue, but corrected her misstep on the pole, holding it tight with both hands and using her arm strength to turn herself upside down. She pedaled her legs prettily before dropping them in a quick split, the force of the quick movement spinning her again as she adopted a coy pose, biting her lip a bit because acting shy made the crowd more enthusiastic.

She didn’t want to see his face again, didn’t want to wonder what it was that he was thinking as he watched her. She didn’t know how to feel knowing that he was…she should have asked him to leave…she never should have invited him inside.

But….

The second song, shorter than the other two, faded into the third and final song. Odessa felt sweat run down her spine under the heat of the stage lights; time felt like it was slowing down, even though she knew it had only been several minutes since the start of her set. A combination of physical exertion and adrenaline was tiring her out, but she was so close to finishing she knew she couldn’t stop now.

Her arms felt like they were on fire, but she pushed aside the ache and swung them back over her head, touching the floor and arching her back to keep her feet flat on the ground. Slowly, in time with the music, she folded her legs beneath her and lowered herself to the floor, stretching herself deliciously in the process. Her lekku curled above her head, falling heavily against her shoulders when she sat up again, mouthing words to the song that she had memorized and wishing she could carry a tune enough to sing. 

She showed off her flexibility, using core strength to get back to her feet without using her hands, and then kicking one leg high into the air before falling back into the flow of the rhythm letting her body move in ways that felt right. No one else could utilize the poles the way she did, for as long as she could without growing too tired. She was younger and stronger than the other dancers, and though she didn’t go as far as they did for tips, she worked within her boundaries to draw in as many extra credits as she could.

The third song began to slow its tempo and Odessa returned to the pole one last time, scaling it slowly and allowing gravity to bring her back down as she dipped her body again, holding the position until she felt the floor at her shoulders. She skillfully rearranged her lekku so that she wouldn’t accidentally lay on them, and then fell into one last split as the music faded to nothing. The lights dimmed again and the crowd cheered, chairs scraping against the floor as a few got to their feet in applause. 

Odessa climbed to her feet with a groan and tilted her head from side to side in response to the burn that now crawled up into her shoulders, and when the lights came back on at their usual brightness, she gave a polite bow and collected the handful of credits tossed onto the stage before hurrying off so the next girl could begin her set.

Before she left the stage, though, she turned to look over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of Ghoul. Her heart beat faster at the thought of him, faster than it had during the entire time she was dancing. Her eyes scanned over the crowd looking for the space she had last seen him standing….

But he was gone.

Disappointment filled her, though she tried not to think about why she felt that way. After all…hadn’t she told Ghoul that she wished Wolffe had never told him about this job?

Get a hold of yourself, she thought, shaking her head and disappearing backstage. You are too old to be acting out daydreams. 

She dropped her tips onto her dresser and began counting them out softly to herself, ignoring the tittering of the other girls who were busy readying themselves for their performances. Nix was out back for a smoke, as was her custom, and it would be another hour before Odessa was expected to dance again.

Still…I wonder what he was thinking.

[therisingdarkness]

AAAAHHHHHHDHDHSHJDNFNF ITS SO PERFECT!!! I love them, your Honor ;;;A;;;

Odie is a saint and so fucking cute, even after Ghoul is such an asshole to her XD

But her momma didnt raise no quitter

Scene out of @therisingdarkness story of our babies. Ghoul is such a dick, i love him

[cloned-eyes]

bad batch era Ghoul and Odeassa wip @therisingdarkness

[therisingdarkness]

No wrong answer im just curious. No guarantees either lol, im very slow sometimes but i at least like tk have direction

[cloned-eyes]

Family on the run

Odessa is @therisingdarkness bebe

Lore dump

Shortly after o66 Ghoul decides to go AWOL with his family. Being very suspicious of the empires treatment of clones and fearing negative repercussions for his loved ones he packs them up and tries to find a save place to build a home for them

[therisingdarkness]

SHRIEKINGSBDBFBF

Uggghhhhhhhgfh theyre so HOT. I love the way you always draw Ghoul draping Odie's lekku over his shoulder, I know it's such a comfort thing for him. And the way she looks at him is just perfect, she has nothing but love for this man ;;A;;

backrooms

featuring Odessa from @therisingdarkness

[cloned-eyes]

backrooms

featuring Odessa from @therisingdarkness