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dystopicjumpsuit · 2 years ago

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Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 5

The One That Survives

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.2k

A/N: For my readers who loved Cerra in "Do It Again," keep your eyes peeled.

Warnings: angst; injuries (no blood); Star Wars swearing; discussions of canon character deaths (not detailed)

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The next day passed in agonizing slowness for Kix. As difficult as it was to hear about the eventual fate of the clones, now that he had begun to uncover what had happened to his brothers, he was desperate to learn more. Seeing Jesse’s number on the 332nd roster had been a gut punch. Of course, he had been at the top of the list of individual troopers that Kix had sent Maree after their first meeting, but he hadn’t been prepared to confront the knowledge quite so soon. Unfortunately, the roster did not provide any information other than a note indicating that Jesse had been assigned as a staff officer to the 332nd Division. Kix would have to wait until his next meeting with Maree to find out what had happened to him.

To distract himself, he checked in with the Meson Martinet and gave an update to Reveth.

“I’ll probably be here a few more days,” he said. “Hard to tell.”

Reveth nodded. Her hologram was distorted by the distance it had traveled, but it was clear enough that he could see the serious expression on the mechanic’s beautiful face.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said shortly.

He and Reveth walked the line between friends and kriff-buddies, but one thing they didn’t do was talk about their feelings.

“Ithano is itching to get back out there and find some more Seppie bases to loot,” Reveth said. “He’ll be happy to hear you’re wrapping things up.”

“Like I said, it’ll be a few days at least,” he said, not liking to feel rushed.

“All right, all right, the bases can wait,” she said placatingly. “It’s not like any other crews have a clone giving them intel.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said.

They ended the call, which had killed all of six minutes, leaving him with only another 1,378 to go. Kix scrubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted. He’d never slept well—none of the clones did—but it had been worse than ever in the year since he’d been pulled out of cryostasis. The previous night, he’d jerked awake, sobbing Jesse’s name. Rather than lie awake for hours, afraid to fall back asleep and enter his nightmares all over again, he had gone to the hotel gym. He had set a punishing pace, not stopping until his muscles cramped and his lungs burned. It hadn’t eased the twisting ache of grief, rage, failure, and despair that gnawed inside him.

He launched himself to his feet and grabbed his jacket, heading out of the hotel with a determined stride. He was in a planet-sized city, for kark’s sake. He could find something to distract him.

Taungsday morning, Maree hurried to work. She arrived half an hour early, but a familiar figure was already waiting outside the staff entrance. Kix turned to her as she approached, and she skidded to an abrupt halt.

“Holy kriffing sith!” she exclaimed. “What happened to your face?”

“It ran into a fist,” Kix said. “A few times.”

Maree traced her fingers softly across his hairline and then gently tilted his jaw so she could get a better look at the angry bruises mottling his skin.

“Force almighty,” she cursed. “Don’t you have any bacta?”

He shook his head.

“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and tugging him toward the entrance. “There’s an emergency medkit in my office.”

The mazelike corridors were empty, for which she was grateful. She could only imagine what rumors would swirl amongst the interns if she were spotted dragging the gorgeous, battered man through the library. She pulled him into her office and locked the door behind them.

“Sit,” she directed him as she rummaged through the kitchenette cabinets to find the medkit.

Thank the stars, there was plenty of bacta inside. She washed her hands and dispensed a little of the gel onto her fingertips, warming it slightly as she crossed to him. She spread the bacta generously over the bruises and lacerations. His lip was split, so she dabbed a small amount on it. He held perfectly still beneath her touch, never flinching, even when her fingers grazed over a particularly nasty cut over his eyebrow.

“Where else are you hurt?” she demanded.

“Nowhere,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

He took a hitching breath, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered.

He shot her a startled glance.

“What?” he asked.

“Off. Take it off. I know you’re hiding more injuries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, rising to comply.

He shed his jacket and then slipped his shirt over his head with a tiny grunt of pain.

She hissed in a breath and unleashed a torrent of curses that made Kix’s mouth drop open in awe. The entire left side of his ribcage was covered in dark bruises.

“Will you teach me how to swear like that, doc?” he asked as some of the tension in his face began to ease. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“This isn’t funny,” she said severely. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Relax,” he said. “I was just blowing off some steam.”

“Do you know what I do when I need to blow off steam?” she demanded. “I go bar hopping, or dancing with my friends, or I go for a run if I’m feeling virtuous. I don’t go out and get my ass stomped into the plastcrete!”

He shrugged. “We all handle stress in our own self-destructive ways. Besides, you should have seen the other guy.”

She glared at him, muttering darkly under her breath as she emptied the tube of bacta onto his impressively muscled torso. She would have enjoyed the view more if she hadn’t been so irritated with his recklessness.

“You’re a mean medic,” he said. “I was never this mean to my patients.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I’m not that kind of doctor, then,” she snapped.

She smeared the bacta across the bruises on his chest and then blew on it to help it dry. He shivered, and she realized he must be freezing. She handed him one of the numerous throw blankets scattered around the office.

“Here,” she said. “Wrap up in this until the bacta dries and you can put your shirt back on. Do you want some pain meds?”

He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll get us some tea.”

“And biscuits?” he asked hopefully.

“And biscuits,” she sighed.

Kix was fully clothed again by the time the rest of the archival staff trickled into the library, but Maree kept her door locked until the bacta could work its magic on his face. He looked truly shocking, and her concern for him made her cranky. He seemed unaffected by either his injuries or her exasperation. On the contrary, he was in a surprisingly good mood considering that they were about to dive into the heartbreaking task of reviewing the individual trooper reports he’d requested.

Kix was on his second cup of tea and his fourth biscuit as Maree booted up the holoprojector. She was deeply envious of his metabolism. How could he subsist on a diet of sweets while maintaining that breathtaking physique?

“These are really good,” he mumbled around a bite of biscuit. “Did you make them?”

“No, they’re from a bakery by my apartment,” she said. “I’m not much of a cook.”

“It must be nice to live so close to good restaurants,” he said.

“Perks of living in the city,” she said.

“Would you ever move away?” he asked.

If one of my expedition proposals got approved, I’d leave in a heartbeat, she thought. But that wasn’t exactly the sort of sentiment she should share with a major donor to the Library, so she gave a more diplomatic and less truthful answer.

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. My work is here, and it’s not like the rest of the galaxy is clamoring for archivists.”

“Did you always want to be an archivist?”

“It was a way to put my doctorate to use,” she hedged. “And the New Republic pays well. I still have access to research opportunities, and I’m the faculty advisor for the military history internship program, so I get to see the emerging trends in the field firsthand. It’s always inspiring to see young people excited about learning history. When I was their age, I always wanted to do field work.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked.

“Credits,” she said bluntly. “It’s not cheap to finance excursions, and it’s almost impossible to drum up funds if you don’t have the publications to demonstrate your expertise. I joined the Archive to build my professional reputation, and I stayed because I grew up and realized there’s more to life than chasing dreams.”

“Like earning that sweet, sweet New Republic salary,” he said.

“Having a stable income is nothing to sneer at,” she retorted.

“Right, and you can spend it on pretty dresses to wear to the galas you love so much.”

“Or on travel, or fine dining, or opera tickets, or art, or glitterstim, or a wine collection that I’ll never drink, or massages, or whatever the kriff I want, because it’s my money, and I get to decide how I spend it,” she said, feeling her earlier ire start to return.

“Fair enough,” he said. “When was the last time you did any of those things?”

“It’s been a while,” she admitted. “I’ve been kind of wrapped up in work recently.”

He looked thoughtful.

“What about pursuing field work now?” he asked. “Doesn’t the library provide any opportunities for senior research staff like you?”

“They’ve scaled back in recent years,” she said. “There are still opportunities on the Core worlds, but there aren’t many sites that are relevant to my research in the Core. The library administration says the Mid and Outer Rims are too risky to send research expeditions. The First Order has been expanding in those regions. The New Republic doesn’t want to acknowledge them publicly as a threat, but they’re being cautious behind the scenes.”

“Risk is an inherent part of life,” Kix said philosophically.

“True, but a New Republic badge in the Outer Rim might as well be a target,” Maree said. “Particularly for a civilian researcher.”

“Well,” he said, “I hope you don’t stop chasing all your dreams, doc.”

She gave him a wan smile, trying not to acknowledge the sting of truth in his words.

“Shall we get started?”

“CT-0292, Captain Vaughn, was killed in action during the siege of Mandalore. Boil is the next name on the list. Without a numerical designation, I wasn’t able to find a record, unfortunately. Same with Wooley. After that is CC-2224. Marshall Commander Cody served with distinction through the end of the Clone Wars and the formation of the Empire,” Maree said. “His file states that he went AWOL the year after the end of the war. There are no other extant records of him.”

Maree heaved a frustrated sigh. They had been at this for hours. The lack of clone records in the Imperial era was becoming a recurring theme. Of the list Kix had sent her, nearly half of the clones had either missing or incomplete files. It was as though the Empire had found yet another way to subtly twist the knife—they considered the clones to be of such little value that they were not even worth the effort of updating the records.

“Who’s next on the list?” Kix asked.

“CT-7922, Dogma. His record states that he was detained after the battle of Umbara, but there is nothing else in the file.”

Kix brooded. He knew it had been a long shot to ask about Dogma. He had never seen the clone again after Umbara. While Kix believed Dogma had been more than justified in executing that karking traitorous Jedi Krell, it seemed that the Republic had disagreed. Another casualty to add to the long list of brothers he hadn’t been able to save.

“What about after that?” he asked.

“CT-7567, Captain Rex,” she said. “Wait, I thought he was a commander?”

“Maybe my source was from earlier in the war,” Kix replied vaguely.

Maree scrolled through the data until she located Rex.

“Ah, here he is. And finally, some good news!”

Kix looked up. “What is it?”

“When I pulled the files, I cross-referenced the Imperial records with those from the Rebellion. Commander Rex was one of a few clones who appeared in both.”

Kix leaned forward in anticipation.

“The Empire listed him as Killed in Action at the end of the war, but the Rebellion files confirm that he survived at least another nineteen years. He fought for the Rebellion, and he was present at many battles, including Endor.”

Kix was stunned. Rex had survived! Not only that, but he’d had a whole life, and he’d gotten his revenge against the Empire.

“He must have been an old man by then,” Kix said.

“That doesn’t seem to have slowed him down much, judging by his activities in the Rebellion,” she said.

“You mentioned that other clones fought in the Rebellion,” he said. “Can you tell me their names?”

“Yes, I found records of at least two others,” she said, scrolling a bit further in her data. “CC-3636, Commander Wolffe, and CC-5576, Captain Gregor. Both participated in the liberation of Lothal. Gregor fell in the battle, but Wolffe survived. Unfortunately, we don’t have any further records of Rex or Wolffe.”

Kix leaned back in his seat, his mind alight with speculation. If Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor had survived that long, maybe more of his brothers had lived long, peaceful lives after the war. It didn’t change the fact that Kix was now the sole surviving clone trooper in the galaxy, but the thought brought him some measure of comfort.

Maree looked tired. Kix stole a glance at the chronometer on the wall and realized it was late in the afternoon. They had spent the entire day combing through individual trooper files.

Maybe we should end the day now, when we at least have found some good news, he thought. We can pick up again tomorrow.

“How many more are left on the list?” he asked.

“Just one more: the natural-born supply officer you listed, Lieutenant Cerra Kilian.”

Kix leaned forward in anticipation.

“According to the files, she deserted immediately after the battle of Coruscant. There’s no other record of her; she just disappeared.”

Kix frowned. What the hell could have happened at Coruscant to make Cerra desert when she’d stayed a loyal soldier even after everything she’d been through?

“That was the end of the list,” Maree said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to locate files on all the troopers you requested. So many records were lost when the Imperial Center of Military Research on Scarif was destroyed, but there is one more possibility that we can explore.”

“What is that?”

“The Imperial Military Records Archive on Coruscant,” she said. “There’s a huge amount of data there that hasn’t been released to the public, but I can access it. I just have to go in person for security reasons.”

“Would they allow you to share the data with me?” he asked.

“I believe they would if we are only accessing trooper files,” she said. “They wouldn’t authorize me to share any sensitive information, though.”

“What could be so sensitive after half a century?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised,” she said cryptically. “There is one complication, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t remove the files from the archive.”

Kix stared at her. “So how could you share them with me?”

“I would need to bring you with me into the archive. I can arrange a visitor pass, if this is something you’d like to pursue.”

“I would appreciate that,” he said.

“I’ll have Teejay set it up,” she said. “It might take a couple of days to make all the arrangements. Can I comm you with the details?”

“Of course,” he said. “Here’s my comm channel.”

Kix made sure to give her the triple-encrypted comm channel that he used when he wanted to make sure nobody from the Meson Martinet crew could snoop in his messages.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll let Teejay know what arrangements to make,” she said.

As she left, Kix crossed the room to stare at the magnificent view. He thought about how Rex had made a life for himself after losing so many brothers. Was it possible that Kix could do the same? He had spent the past year in an agony of grief and regret. Had Rex also suffered the intense guilt that seemed to be the price of survival? What would his captain say to him if they could speak to each other one last time? Kix closed his eyes and tried to imagine. He remembered the times when Rex had come to the med bay after a particularly grueling campaign, laying a comforting hand on Kix’s shoulder as the medic grieved over the patients he hadn’t been able to save. Saleucami. Kiros. Ringo Vinda. So many campaigns, so much death.

Umbara.

That cursed battle had nearly broken Kix. He was a combat medic. He dedicated his entire life to saving his brothers’ lives. To realize that he had ended them instead—that he had killed his own brothers—it was more than he could stand. In the bloody aftermath, overwhelmed by the sheer number of injured and dying clones, he had treated the wounded, helping as many as he could, but it was all too few. After days of triage, Rex had tried to order him to get some sleep. Kix had refused.

“I have to save them!” he’d shouted.

Rex had tried to calm him down, but Kix shoved the captain away as his body began to shake uncontrollably. Rex refused to back down, wrapping Kix in a tight hug as the medic sobbed into his captain’s shoulder.

“Sometimes in war, it’s hard to be the one that survives,” Cody had once said.

But Kix had survived, whether he liked it or not. And now he had to find a way forward, no matter how impossible it seemed to be. As he took a final look at the gleaming city outside the window, Kix decided to take his first step on that path.

When Maree returned to her office a few moments later, Kix had pulled on his jacket. He thought he saw a glimmer of disappointment in her face. Her eyes looked heavy, and a few wayward strands of hair had worked their way out of her hairstyle and brushed across her cheeks.

Stars, she is breathtaking.

“Your face is looking much better,” she observed. “The bacta worked quickly.”

“Is it improved enough that it won’t set the office gossip chain on fire when I leave?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said. “If anyone notices, we can say that we got into a debate about which Jedi was the most reckless general, and things got out of hand.”

“Skywalker, without a doubt,” Kix said. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

She blinked in surprise, and Kix realized that she might prefer to rest after such a taxing day.

“No pressure if you don’t want—”

“Yes!” she cut him off. “I would love to have dinner with you.”

Kix flashed a smile. “How does 1900 sound?”

“Perfect,” she said. “We can meet at my place.”

Kix took his leave and sped back to his hotel, comming the Meson Martinet on the way.

“Reveth, I need a favor,” he said.

---

Chapter 6

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99

#dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings #tcw fanfic #clone medic kix #tcw kix #sw tcw fanfic #star wars tcw #sw fanfic

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simpingwriter · 2 years ago

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Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot

'Revenge and Redemption:

In the Name of Love'

Pt.6

___________________

Well, empty room and myself, here we are again. Fascinatingly enough, I had this one ready a day after Chapter 5 and I just forgot it in my Documents 😬

But thankfully I remembered tonight!

And I even got Chapter 7 almost finished for no one to read but me (for about three times to edit) after I stopped using the 'Cal Kestis x Reader' Tag.

But hey, maybe some of you are silently reading along, and for my own sanity I will think of it that way! :D

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.047 Words

___________________

When you heard the Droid's familiar beeps forming Cal's name, a huge wave of relief washed over you, smiling as you stood a bit behind Cal, planning to step next to him just when BD starts beeping with panic.

'Kyra!...she fell. She's dead!'

Could he not see you behind the ginger-

"What? No, BD. She was injured though, she was in a coma for a while, but here…look, just like you remember her. Mostly." He quickly explains, doing the part of stepping aside himself to reveal your anxiously happy frame. You simply couldn't believe your's and Cal's luck that all your work truly paid off in the end…

'KYRA!' His beeps rose in volume, jumping up and down on the workbench, already showing off his still functional liveliness as his ginger friend has to reach out on reflex, helping BD bridge his way over to your own shaky hands.

'I thought we were both…I saw you hit the rocks, but you really survived! You're truly undefeatable!'

You went to doubt that until proven guilty of charge, seeing as you most definitely would've died hadn't it been for Cal and Trilla immediately coming to look for you after you disappeared into the Ravine. Well, mostly Cal. He didn't leave you a second time, just like he had promised.

He didn't leave you to rot in a dark, shut-in place a second time…he wouldn't.

"Because I love you, that's why." He gently informs, strengthening your believe in the three of you, enveloping both you and BD in a finally reunited hug, the small Droid whooping excitedly. "It's been too long for us as well, buddy…I left you as well. Can you even forgive me...?"

BD repeats something akin to a hum as he attempts to tilt his head, the fresh joints still needeing to be used-in better, 'Does the work of the Inquisitors include adventure?' "Ye-" 'Because I am in regardless.'

You karking loved this quirky bucket of cables and electric devices and his ability to keep up with surprising you two every time anew.

"Are you sure…unlike us, you're not programmed with a moral compass, you're basically hardwired to follow Je-"

'You're wrong, Cal. I follow those who I trust with my life. Those that would never abandon me without reason.'

Chuckling warmly at his quick, mature response, you hug him closer to yourself, planting a peck on the top of his cold, metallic head, "You have a better and bigger heart than most of the people that I met during my long time alone before Cal…"

The Inquisitor in front of you could only nod and hum in agreement, holding out his arms once more for BD to jump back into, resuming his old spot withina few seconds of climbing over his buddy. Like nothing ever changed, just the outfits. You three are still you.

"Hey…Kyra... are you hungry?" Where did that question come from? – "My brain?" – But yes you are, the only thing you ate in the last 24 hours were these small empire-issued 'heat-up dogs'...and you doubted they had the same nutrients as that amazing Energy Bar Cal snuck into your hands back in the Infirmary.

"They don't, I can tell you with certainty. I felt like a wet, moldy mop after refusing to leave my quarters during my first week to socialize and eat at the canteen, eating basically nothing but these sausages in various forms." That sounds…horrible, your precious mate deserved good food, the very best food. Why did he hide in his rooms, they clearly accept him on the Base.

"Well, now. But back then I was 'the suspicious newbie'? Jedi willingly joining the Empire and especially the Inquisitorius is basically a fairytale to them, so be ready to keep getting these odd glares for a while…" You left the small closet, shutting the door behind you for now as Cal yawned and stretched his long limbs from the stuffy room, now clearly unbothered by the former way they looked at him. The distrust they must've shown in him, expecting him to turn on them because they never turned his brain into mashed veggies like they usually had to.

But knowing your Cal, he surely proved his loyalty in a way that was incredibly difficult to disprove afterwards. What if he stood out positively in a mission, helped in a way that a potential loss turned into a positive outcome?

"I helped them locate a potential, unfortunately now debunked Rebel Leader and Informant and at first…I felt bad for selling him out, I...once knew him." From Bracca? Or from his time with Cere, like that guy from the planet he ran into you? The one you nearly got killed for force-throwing his blaster away?

"I…I actually mean exactly him...he is still here, getting his mind turned inside out since months."

You felt the discomfort in his words, but as quick as they surfaced he had fully erased them once more, he felt no remorse or regret any longer. And you knew you couldn't in your new position.

"I killed him with this very lightsaber, my first confirmed kill as an Inquisitor…" He touched the unique lightsaber hanging off his belt as his thoughts told you everything you needed to know, Cal didn't feel any remorse because he reminded himself of one thing the whole time: That man had worked with the Rebellion. The very Organization…well, group, trying to revive and rebuild the actual Organization behind your suffering. Behind the hidden suffering of many, overshadowed by the apparent good they did.

"Exactly. By extension…it eased some of the real anger I have for the now fallen Order." Yet not for long, the death of a simple low ranked Informant wouldn't shake up the Rebellion as potentially one of their actual leading figures.

To the higher forces up at the top of every group or organization, that lowly Informant, the soldiers…you…you were all replaceable. Such a loss was nothing to them at the end of the day…

"But imagine taking out a whole Rebel Base." You suddenly add, with such ease in your words, it was hard to believe you once had been somewhat of a rebel yourself, almost not even registering that you had blindly followed Cal out of your Quarters and into the monotone gray Hallway. He obviously knew by now where to go, so you kept doing that as the conversation went on. Though you never expected such a subject between the two of you, such a dark one.

"It would harm them much more, yes. But I think you know without me having to tell you how the Inquisitors' missions get planned and set." So much more useless stuff would be done instead, got it boss.

Holding each other's gloved hand, like the cliché couple you had wished to finally be, you reach the upper floor that, from Cal's words, also held the Canteen. Just one Canteen for such a huge base seemed a bit... inefficient in the long run though, was there even enough spots for every person and staff? What about these Troopers just on their way through that got hungry?

"You think about way too much...way too deeply, dragonfly. As long as we get something to eat and somewhere to sit, there is nothing to worry about." Your loud, grumbling stomach audibly made you agree as you gasp at the sight in front of you as you wondered even more how Cal was able to avoid this place for a whole week.

The initial question of how they fit everyone on here into one canteen was also wiped away on the spot when you saw the sheer size of it. It was even multi-layered with huge windows to show the surrounding Ocean you're all under. Let's hope nobody on Nur had a karking Phobia of the Ocean.

Or that the material could slowly lose quality under the water's constant pressure on it-

"Grand, isn't it? Come, I'll show you where we can order food over the course of the day. The menu changes everyday but let me tell you ahead of time, the choices are going to be nothing extraordinary usually." Who cares if it was extraordinary or not, you simply hoped it's more filling than those stupid, suspiciously pink sausages!

Cal pulls you to the sides, away from the middle area that was clearly reserved for eating, some just regular benches and tables while some instead were more akin to small separate and more private lounging areas with a square table at each. The canteen had probably the most personality of everything on Nur till now, like someone totally different designed this area than the rest. Alone the mesmerizing view from the overhead window view kept you looking up while walking, bumping into your taller lover as he stopped suddenly. Only when you looked back down to see why he stopped, did you realize that you're standing in a line now. There were multiple across the canteen's two sides, but this one was significantly shorter.

"This line is reserved for us, Inquisitors, and the higher ranked Purge Troopers…but I can't really tell you if our food is any different, never truly felt inclined to try from the other lines." Just as he said those words, you noticed a familiar hairstyle a few Troopers ahead of you two. Trilla.

Your compassionate side, the one that tried befriending people to make your life easier, wanted to talk to her, to maybe ask if she wanted to eat together, try to warm up to her and give her the chance to do the same with you. But you quickly shook that thought away again, returning to focus on the warm feeling of Cal's hand, having to remember that it probably didn't work that way on Nur. Or anywhere else within the Empire. Or most places in the Galaxy...

Would you find any other friends besides Cal and BD-1 on this watery Rock?

"We can talk with Trilla once you're allowed to train with the rest. I remember her very clearly challenging you anyways, she takes those…way too serious, such promises." Cal told you, also shortly eyeing Trilla now from behind, BD copying the both of you as he tried to look over his friend's shoulder without slipping by accident, still getting used to the new legs. 'Is she really our friend?' BD asks the real questions sometimes, leaving Cal without an answer shortly before he sighs, "I don't know myself to be honest. Sometimes I think she is, the next day she's such a karking prick again."

Did anyone ever tell Cal that some rare types of friends show their affection through playfully rude gestures, that not just you specifically function that way? Trilla probably doesn't even know anymore how to be nice, it's not like she came here willingly like you two, she was mentally broken and basically forcfullu reshaped to take the Empire's Orders.

"You got a real grim way of looking at this." But are you wrong about your way? You highly doubted many of the Inquisitors still even knew what a good joke was. And yet it was wrong to think of them all like that, having only met Trilla, of them all, personally – and that a mere handful of times, two still as enemies as well – so who are you to judge them by the things you heard about them. Told to you by people supporting the Rebellion, to add on top of everything.

Every opinion of every thing was to be taken with a grain of salt. In the end, you had to make your own experiences with people and other things to paint a good, well-rounded picture for yourself.

Absolutely everything depended on one's personal point of view – no matter if it is morally wrong, good or in the various gray areas – which sometimes was easier and sometimes harder to find.

"Okay, riddle me this, what kind of karking meat do you want, Philosophicus?" Well, at least your drifting thoughts were probably educational in some way, unlike other's thoughts that spun around nothing but drooling over today's menu choice and…you. The thoughts about 'you' did make you blush though…

"I can't understand how you aren't drooling, are you okay? Are your stomach and brain separate entitie-" He stops himself before you do it yourself, side-eyeing him worried. Was the human brain and stomach…physically connected? You thought the stomach can only control emotions.

"Stop thinking about it, Please. I see my mistake, okay?" He chuckles embarrassed, hiding his face between your shoulder and head as you pat his head, messing up his red locks in the same moment, a smile creeping on your face at the sight, "Happens to the best of us…"

The food was, just like he warned you, not exactly special in the overall taste. But it tasted much more healthy than whatever 'heat-up dogs' are karking made of – "I hope it's less than three Meat Types.". And an actually cooked, hearty meal made your conversations flow much deeper now than those during quick snacks between tinkering, basically ending up in the side-quest/challenge of 'Who can chuck down this cylindrical, floppy fabricated mess and mass of mystery meat quicker'. Thanks to your…totally natural advantage…you usually won that.

"Just say that you wouldn't even have a gag-reflex to save your life!" Cal jokes before gently bumping your shoulder for your attention, nodding over the comfy wall of the lounge you sat in, "See them over there?"

He means the group of regular Troopers over there, from the way his thoughts spun. You knew that the Clones were allowed to take their helmets off while on break or when there was no significant conflict at the horizon, so seeing the Troopers also do the same didn't surprise you as much, shortly watching them chat and munch on their sandwiches before lowering yourself back onto your spot on the more comfy looking bench. "Yeah what about them?"

What he did next, you really hadn't expected from Cal, the ever behaving, calm one of your trio. He took one of the plastic straws issued to your soft drinks and…a salt pea.

"Watch me."

And you did, like a mischievous moth to a flame, anticipating the outcome as he quietly blew through the straw and the pea hit its target on the spot. The back of one of the Troopers Heads.

Quickly he forcefully pushed you both back down, heads ducked down and chuckling into your gloves as the shot Trooper grunted in annoyance, noisily dropling his cutlery. "Who was that?! Show yourself if you got any balls!"

Wide eyed, you continue to giggle to yourselves as BD jumps on the table, looking at the yellow vegetables Cal just used for his childish ammunition, 'This can't hurt them?' He asked perplexed, instantly having gone to scanning them – proving also that Cal did in fact manage to fix that as well – as you shook your head, still working on the fact that Cal did the same thing you did as a Padawan once upon a better, calmer time.

"Want to try too?" There is no try, there is only do. So you took the straw confidently from his open palm as he held it out to you, sucking some salt peas up yourself, BD watching once more in high interest, using Cal to look over the benches as well when you spied your own targets on a different side of the lounge.

Some researchers, poor bastards wouldn't even know what hit them...

One by one, you blow back through the straw, barely seeing the peas fly as they were too quick when yours also hit their mark perfectly. Now someone bald had five mushy, yellow spots on his dome, his fellow Co-Workers quickly looking around for the culprit.

But in the meanwhile, you're already too busy keeping your cackling to the silent type with your mate, holding onto each other and the table for stability as Cal replayed the peas' impact, both of you repeatedly starting to laugh again until you had managed to calm down. "Kark, I love being able to act like a kid again, Cal. Had I done this anywhere else I had been in these last four years, I wouldn’t have made it out of that town or settlement without a mob at my tail…

Though you doubted you would stay unpunished here either if you were unlucky and found out as the pea-sharpshooters, so you had to stay as quiet and careful about these little funny moments as possible.

You finished your tablets of food in a more civilized manner after that, occasionally still having to chuckle a bit at what happened beforehand but ultimately it was a calming lunch. Even if it was in a canteen, you kinda liked it more than when you had to eat on the Mantis. Probably because despite the food here being served rather heartlessly in presentation and all, it still tasted a lot better than whatever Greez cooked up to three times a day. Which isn't that hard, Cal immediately thought when he heard yours, but still. You had been at many Canteens, just like Libraries basically, and usually it was always the same problem: The cooks didn't know what seasoning is, probably can't spell it either, or that some meats just taste like shoe leather if cooked all the way through.

"Well yeah okay, they season the food well here though, don't they?" Cal asks in regards to your thoughts, carrying his dark gray tablet to one of the carts as you follow close behind with yours before you make your way to the exit again, the same way you came before, having a hard time ignoring the less suspicious but more...surprised stares, mostly at your non-human features.

"I like eating spicy, you already know that. So yeah, this Firebean Rice was really good for example!" How are you two still able to talk about food with basically being about to be rolled out of here from the mountain of food Cal ordered onto your tablets?

But he quickly took you away from food related thoughts when he mentally bumped you for your attention before looking where he had been looking moments before. Trilla, again.

She was eyeing the small Droid on Cal's Shoulder, but it was hard, no, near impossible to read her emotions from the mixed signals she was sending in general. Was she intrigued why he was suddenly back in working order, angry, confused? Would she tell the Grand Inquisitor about BD? And if she did, what would they do with the small Droid then?

"Come, we shouldn't linger. We can ask her tomorrow, you just got the okay for your Training Restrictions being lifted, look." He was too good at changing the subject when he showed you his small HoloPad, a mail by the Infirmary, specifically Dr. Puloria, explaining the next steps addressed at you and how much you're allowed to do while training again.

It's been about time you could let out some anger physically again, you hadn't trained right since months! The news excited you enough to get steered out of the Canteen by Cal, away from Trilla's odd, unreadable stare until you finally reached the Elevators.

"Will you train with me tomorrow then?" "Of course I will, Dragonfly, someone has to make sure you don't overdo yourself again immediately." While that was his official answer, which he was okay with others hearing, his thoughts were a slight bit different.

He wanted to see how you would fare against the other Inquisitors, against him. He wanted to see just how strong you could be if there was nothing to hold you back, actually.

While you couldn't use your wings yet to for example dodge through the air, fly up to do aerial attacks and so on, you're still far more equipped to do good damage even without a new lightsaber yet.

"I just realized I never saw you fight with your own Lightsaber…I only saw it shortly before I left." And before that, the only way he had been able to see you fight enemies was with your claws, teeth and horns. Theoretically you didn't need one, but he knew and felt the bitterness of losing it again eating at your mind. Now to Cere, of all possible people.

But the training halls had "stock Lightsabers" for training anyways. They remembered him from his and probably your time at the Temple, the lightsabers weren't able to hurt your opponent lethally, just bruise and slightly burn them. Pair that with the Inquisitors' and Purge Troopers protective gear, it wouldn't be more than a tingle. Enough to learn new techniques and to spar against another.

"I won't need one anyways tomorrow. I had to fight without one many times and my long-ago ancestors didn't even have them."

So tomorrow...you would show the honor for what they gave you for being a proud Kaluk. You had to show what they were capable of!

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