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ariadnes-red-thread · 6 months ago

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The Last Word: Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: SAY NOTHING

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Brought face-to-face with Fives after their one-night stand, Mal faces hard choices and harder truths. Meanwhile, Fives knows at least one thing that this new battalion medic is hiding and he's beginning to suspect that there might be more.

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations, canon-typical violence, character death mention/flashback

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Recommended Listening: Say Nothing by Flume feat. MAY-A

A/N: Another new chapter? Within a month? WHO IS SHE?

Ao3

Taglist

She was staring, a sardonic voice pointed out from somewhere deep within her. Mal snapped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw to keep it from falling open again. Fives was here.

For a moment, she glowed. Mal felt herself light up as the night before enveloped her. She thought about the boundless joy of his laugh, the soft friction of his facial hair, the heat of his broad body, the gentle and hungry press of his lips. Then, she caught the dull reflection of her green eyes in the durasteel wall behind him.

Panic rippled through Mal’s body, casting any lightness into deep, dark shadow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“This is Tup.” Mal’s heart was racing as Kix went down the line, oblivious to the inner turmoil that she’d been thrown into. “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added.

Fives pressed his lips together in a smirk. There was no doubt he recognized her. The ripples of panic swelled into waves that threatened to pull her under any moment. She did the only thing she could think of.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal quickly spoke, a bit louder than she meant.

Tup gave a cheerful reply that she only faintly heard. Instead, Mal stared at his brother. Fives’ eyebrows shot up. His eyes flashed over her and he frowned before he finally nodded. Mal let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Likewise.” Fives’ reply was pointed, but only to her.

“Come on,” Kix said as he took a step forward, oblivious to the thousand little unspoken words that had just passed between his new civilian medic and his brother. “I’m starving.”

The small group moved together to the mess hall. Around her, Jesse, Kix, and Tup joked and laughed. Only she and Fives walked in silence, sweating under the unforgiving lights.

The waves of panic had passed, turning into a heavy rock that sat in the pit of her stomach. While Mal waited for his move, she ruminated on her bad luck. The chance of Fives being in her battalion had to have been a million to one. But here he was and now she was about to eat dinner with him. She half-listened to Jesse as he made a joke about GAR food and let out an obligatory laugh when she was supposed to, but inside, Mal was reeling.</p>

No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. She had that rule for cycles, and now one slip-up, fueled by alcohol and momentary passion, could undo everything. To begin with, it was unethical and unprofessional. She was already an outsider in an army of brothers. While the 104th was her family, the 501st wasn’t. They didn’t know her and she didn’t want them to make assumptions before they did. Then there was the moral failing of sleeping with her patient. She would have to care for him and now she risked her position being compromised. Any care she gave him or any of his brothers would be scrutinized to make sure she wasn’t showing favoritism, misusing resources, or wasting GAR time. The upper management of the civilian volunteer force would descend on her like a pack of danchafs. And that was if they didn’t just discharge her.

And that, she thought, as her. stomach began to turn, would be unthinkable. This was supposed to be her chance to make things right. The 501st was where she was going to find answers. But now a single mistake threatened it all.

For one weak moment, Mal wondered if there was still time to transfer back. She missed the 104th more than ever. Sinker would think this was hilarious and do that thing where he laughed so hard he snorted. Boost would roll his eyes. Mal let out a small sigh to herself. She needed that right now. She could even go for one of Crux’s lectures.

The mess hall was loud and crowded. It pulled her back to her surroundings and away from the spiral of her inner monologue. Kix checked in to make sure she was familiar. After she reassured him, he and Jesse took off for the dessert station.

She gathered her tray and got in line. Involuntarily, her eyes drifted over the soldiers, trying to find Wolffe’s scowl, even though she knew it was light years away. Instead, she found only unfamiliar, familiar faces. Protein cubes turned her stomach in a good day and today she almost retched as it was plopped onto her plate.

“Not a fan?” Tup asked, making her start. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her in line. “Can’t say they’re my favorite either.”

“I uh…” Mal grimaced as she tried to fix her face. “Yeah.”

“Look at it.” Tup poked at the jiggling block before he shot her a commiserating look. “We got real meals on Kamino. 'Bout the only thing I miss about that soggy planet. But you get used to ‘em.”

You get used to ‘em. Mal nodded. She thought about telling Tup that no matter how many GAR meals she ate, the protein cubes would always taste of metal ore to her. But she didn’t say it. She opened her mouth just to make sure she could.

Mal followed Tup over to the table where the four other clones were waiting for them. Kix and Jesse were arguing over something that sounded like a battle strategy but also could have been a drinking game. Tup sat next to Jesse, and as Mal slid onto the bench beside him, She found herself face-to-face with Fives again. He was still watching her carefully.

Her hope for answers, everything she was here to do could shatter right before her eyes. She shifted her jaw as her mind raced. She could do something. Mal had to do something.

“I’ll grab water for the table.” She put her tray down. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

Fives raised an eyebrow at Mal as he hesitated, but curiosity seemed to get the better of him.

“Roger, roger.” He said as he stood, his umber eyes never leaving hers.

For a moment, she hesitated, wilting in his dark look. Something in her wanted to make him laugh just so she could hear it again. Seconds passed and Mal felt the other three watching her curiously. She spun on her heels, and the table soon turned its attention and debate quickly pick back up. Fives was hot behind her, catching up to her pace in just a few strides. A moment of silence passed as Mal waited until she was out of earshot from the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Mal’s words were hushed, falling stuttered from her lips as she made her way across the mess with the ARC trooper. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.”

His low voice was right in her ear. Her breath hitched just a little as she realized how close he was.

She finally reached the water fountain. Mal took five cups from the stack piled on the counter and handed two of them to Fives. This gave her a moment to look at the man. He stood less than a foot away, one armored hip leaning up against the counter as he waited on her next move. Mal swallowed. He was so very close. The last time he had been this close, his lips had been pressed against her cheek. She blinked, pushing the memory away.

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

“You made that very clear.”

Fives’ voice was still low and it was becoming increasingly unfriendly. A part of her stung as she realized she never would have thought it came from the same relaxed, warm man who was in her apartment just hours ago. Focus, Mal thought to herself, You have to do this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Mal started before Fives cut her off.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives’ tone returned to casual as he began to fill the glasses in his hands with water. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t help feeling like she’d fucked up again. His attention never left the glasses and, after he finished, he took a wide step away, giving her plenty of space to fill her three cups. Mal walked silently back to their meals, several steps behind the clone. The men at the table had seemingly settled their debate, and decided to turn their attention to her.

“So you’re from the 104th, huh? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse asked as she sat back in her seat. “I bet he’s a big softie.”

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives scoffed at his brother as he slid him a cup of water.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned.

“Not with that lifetime ban from the Senate you won’t.” Kix prodded Jesse with an elbow to the side.

Jesse waved off his brothers as he turned back to her. Mal quickly began to stuff the protein cube into her mouth to avoid his questions, only retching a little at the taste.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

Mal coughed, choking on the gelatinous mouthful.

“Jesse, shut the fuck up,” Kix ordered.

Mal shot Kix a grateful smile as she carefully swallowed. She hadn’t spent long with Kix, but she had a feeling he didn’t take that tone with Jessie often. Jessie, for his part, suddenly found himself preoccupied with his protein cube, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

“So what planet are you from?” Tup asked, trying to find a more friendly topic.

Her stomach clenched. Another subject she wanted to avoid. Mal hadn’t considered that this new squad wouldn’t know her from Chancellor Palpatine. There was a privilege in not having to explain herself and it was gone now.

She weighed the answer for a moment.

“Takodana.” Mal finally answered truthfully.

Fives snorted. Mal’s eyes shot to him as she waited. He just shook his head. Then he paused for a moment before he lifted his eyes to hers.

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives looked at her for the first time since they had both sat down.

She held her breath for a moment. She watched as he frowned, deep in thought. While Fives was distracted, Jesse spotted an opportunity. He snatched the cake from Fives’ tray while the clone was frowning at Mal.

“Hey!” Fives swiped at air as he realized the theft.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse grinned at the ARC trooper.

Mal sighed in relief as Fives also excused himself quickly after. She watched out of the corner of her as he walked away. He didn’t look back. The conversation devolved into brotherly harassment as the boys lost all interest in grilling the new girl.

Mal stayed through the meal and long enough for Kix to give her a digital tour of the Venator med bay, but soon he released her with praise for her first day that mostly involved how well she put up with Jesse, and instructions for reporting bright and early tomorrow. The 501st was shipping out again.

It wasn’t until her apartment door slid shut behind her, Mal realized she had made it back to her apartment. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left it. The shadows seem longer, jutting out at strange angles, like the place wasn’t quite hers anymore. She didn’t bother to turn on the light as she dragged her body across the small studio, the city offering enough of its own through the windows. Mal stripped the jumpsuit from her body and threw herself into bed, exhausted emotionally and physically. Despite the tiredness that clung to her bones, she immediately sat back up. A spicy, sweet scent of whiskey, smoke, and heady sweat invaded her nostrils. It was Fives. He was still lingering on the sheets.

She tossed for a few moments and tried to ignore it but, no matter what position she lay in, he followed her, his memory wrapped around her just as he had earlier that same day. She couldn’t escape it, no more than she could when she fumbled her greeting to him. She’d slept with one of the men she was supposed to protect, to help. Fraternization was specifically against the rules for civilians and GAR soldiers. She’d be discharged without a second thought.

On the bedside table, the small Wolfpack pin glinted in the moonlight. She would fail Wolffe, Crux, and even Tye. And, worse, she would fail the twins. She turned again, but a new wave of Fives and a memory of his arms wrapping around her suddenly was suddenly all around her.

Mal huffed and threw the blankets back. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, sitting up. Mal hung her head, letting it fall to her palms for a moment. Too tired to change the sheets, she pulled her duvet behind her as she dragged herself to the chair.

The nightmares came again that night.

Mal’s words were a bucket of ice down his spine. Cold and formal. He scanned her face but there was no hint of recognition. Fives reeled. For a moment, he teetered on the edge of calling her out. Nice to meet you? Did my dick give you amnesia? But then he thought about his vode. He didn’t need them to see this rejection. No, for all they knew he had a one-night stand who he left breathless and reeling and totally in love with him. He was going to keep it that way. For now.

“Likewise.” He finally settled on the curt reply.

“Come on,” Kix pushed forward, his mind on food as usual. “I’m starving.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was laughing at something Jessie had said, but he could see that she was watching him too. Probably scared he was going to air her dirty little secret. Tup noticed something was wrong right away. He shot Fives a look as they were swept up in the mess hall crowd. A wordless conversation passed between them. A look of concern. A shrug of unconcern. An eyebrow of skepticism. A smile of reassurance.

Relax, Fives reminded himself. Time to watch and see how this plays out. Think like an ARC.

He piled his tray with fortified protein and settled into the table with his friends but no sooner than he had sat down, his eyes found her again.

Mal trailed behind Tup. She shifted as she walked. A wiggle of her fingers, a soft clench and unclench of her jaw, a slight roll of her neck. It was like she was taking roll call of her body. A red curl escaped her hair tie and hung down over her eyes. She glanced at it and huffed, blowing it to the side. She glared at the errant lock as it fell back into her face, the dusting of freckles on her nose wrinkling. Tup led her to their table, sliding in next to Jesse, leaving enough room for Mal next to him, and right across from Fives.

She didn’t seem to realize where she was sitting until she was almost at his eye level. Finally, her jeweled orbs met his. Mal blinked as she stared at him for a moment. He tried to hold her emerald stare. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to go grab water for the table.” She quickly announced to the table before she turned back to him. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

The hesitancy was a nice touch. Smart. Fives raised an eyebrow as he considered her invitation. Half of him wanted to reject her immediately, but he wanted to see where this was going.

“Roger, roger.” He rose, stepping over the bench to follow her.

Fives trailed behind her, watching as other clones turned, sometimes slowly and others obviously, and elbowed each other when they took notice of her. He couldn’t blame them, but a frown still snuck across his face. The gray jumpsuit with its long blue stripes along the seams swallowed up most civilian medics, but hers gently hugged her curves, showing the lines of her body that he had traced just hours ago. Luckily, before his mind could wander too far, Mal tilted her face up towards him. She had waited until they were out of earshot of the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Her voice was quiet. Something about that irritated him even more. There wasn’t even anyone else around and she was still scared of being noticed with him. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.” Fives thought it was a measured response.

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

She wasn’t wrong. Fraternizing with civilian members of the GAR was strictly forbidden. He didn’t think Rex would care, and Skywalker… well that was a more unpredictable reaction, but he suspected the General would look the other way. Clones trapped under lesser Jedi would be at risk of reassignment or worse. Still, that didn’t excuse her and Fives pulled no punches with his tone.

“You made that very clear.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” She started.

Mal shifted under his blazing look. Fives decided that, whatever was coming next, he wasn’t going to hear it. She didn’t get to apologize to him. He didn't want it and he didn't need it.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives kept his voice as even as he could as he turned to start filling up water glasses. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He turned back to the table, spilling water over his hands in the rush. He told himself to slow down. Breathe. He wasn’t going to let her ruin his mood. Ruin this day. Fuck that and fuck her.

He could sense Mal as she scurried behind him, trying to keep up with his long steps. They rejoined the table. Fives debated moving down next to Tup. He looked up at her again and she wilted under his stare. No, he decided. He was going to have to get used to this. His vode started in on her as soon as they got back to the table. Fives felt a flare of annoyance.

“So you’re from the 104th? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse jumped at the new girl. “I bet he’s actually a big softie.”

Fives snorted at Jesse, half-tempted to throw his water to him instead of pass it.

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives rolled his eyes.

It was only last month that Fives had to go get Jesse from the base prison. Fox had glared out at him under hooded eyes, and stood still with crossed arms as Fives tried to bargain for Jesse’s release. He knew that Fox knew that Fives had been involved with the plot to steal the Corrie Guard’s mastiff for the night, but that, unlike Jesse, they hadn’t been able to catch him. Eventually, Fox wordlessly punched a fist into a button, releasing Jesse from his cell, and then, with a single pointed finger, directed them both out of the brig. Fives wasn’t looking forward to the next time their paths crossed.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned, undeterred by the same memory.

“Not with that lifetime ban from all Senate buildings you won’t.” Kix prodded him with an elbow to the side.

Fives shook his head. He thought they had gotten away with their failed prank as they crawled back into their bunks, trying to get an hour of sleep before roll call. His eyes had just started to drift closed when Rex burst into the barracks, erupting and swinging his datapad at them. Somewhere in the scramble away from his momentarily deranged captain, he learned that Rex had woken up to several colorful messages informing him that Fox had banned Fives and Jesse from all Coruscant Guard-held spaces for life. It had taken twenty minutes and the promise of latrine duty for two weeks to soothe the Captain.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

“Jesse, shut the fuck up.” Kix snapped in a warning tone he rarely took with Jesse. Fives’ eyes flashed to Kix. Interesting. He was protective of his new medic already.

“What planet are you from?” Tup said mildly, carefully changing the subject.

“Takodana.”

Fives snorted. A hick from a rural backwater planet. Then he heard it. Takodana. Fives’ spine stiffened at a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. That sounded familiar. He knew a lot of planets at this point. Ones he’d been to and ones he hadn’t. But there was something about that name that tugged on some recollection or information buried somewhere deep in his databanks of training.

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives finally let his eyes meet hers again.

Her beryl eyes widened and he watched as a flash of fear rippled across her face. It was gone in the next second. He might have even imagined it. He wanted to dwell on it, to hold the moment and tear it open until he understood, but a motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Hey!” He said, as Jesse snatched his cake from his tray.

Fives tried to swipe out to grab it but it was too late. His vod planted his fork into the stolen dessert.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse stuck his tongue out at Fives with a victorious wink.

Fives shook his head at Jesse and waved his hand in surrender.

“Savor it, vod.” He forced a laugh as he stood. “See you all later.”

Leaving the suffocating din of the mess hall behind, Fives followed a familiar path to Rex’s office. The durasteel hallways were empty while everyone was at dinner, and the only sound was the rhythmic echo of his boots against the floor. Usually, Fives appreciated these quiet moments alone. He loved his brothers, and he knew he could be as loud as any of them, but moments where he could hear himself think were precious and far apart when in an army of millions. There was nothing solitary about this moment, though. His thoughts marched beside him, louder than the clang of his footsteps, with memories as all-consuming as the vacuum of space. It wasn’t until Fives reached Rex’s door that he snapped out of the deep trance. There were voices on the other side.

The blast door slid open just as Fives raised his hand to knock. He stepped back to let General Skywalker and General Kenobi walk out.

“Hello there, Fives,” Kenobi greeted him as Anakin nodded.

“Evening, Generals.” He saluted the Jedi. “Commander Tano.”

The Togruta followed behind the Masters, buzzing with an excitement that Fives knew could only mean a new mission.

“Be nice to Rex,” Ahsoka winked at Fives and he felt his icy mood melt just a little. Ahsoka’s good moods were infectious around the 501st. When she was happy, they all tended to be. “He just spent two hours trying to rein in Skyguy's battle plans.”

Her master shot a look of annoyance at the padawan and the clone before he chuckled and shrugged.

“She’s not wrong.” Anakin flashed a brazen grin at the ARC trooper.

“I’m shocked, General.” Fives smiled back before he turned to Ahsoka with a wink of his own. “And when have I ever been mean to Rex?”

All three Jedi laughed at that.

“Have a good evening, Fives.” Anakin bowed his head before the three Jedi turned back to their journey, likely back to the Temple.

“You too, Sirs.”

Fives stepped into the dark office space. Rex sat at his desk, massaging his temples, as he frowned at a holomap glowing in the dim light.

“Tano and Kenobi act like Skywalker’s the crazy one, but they’re all just as bad.” Rex groaned, not looking up at Fives.

“We’ll make the most of their plans and take whatever the Seppies throw at us.” Fives settled into one of the chairs across from Rex. “You know that, Captain.”

“Of course,” Rex pressed his thumb to a button on his desk, and the holomap disappeared. The lights returned to the room, and he leaned back into his chair, taking on the quiet calm that came from being alone with an old friend.

“How’d the debrief with the council go yesterday?” Fives asked. He didn’t want Rex to think he rushed in here to ask about Mal.

“As well as expected,” Rex grumbled. “Most were supportive. A couple of them tried to press me. Didn’t got over well with me or General Skywalker though.”

“We saved the galaxy from one of Dooku’s pawns, and there's Jedi out there pushing back against us?”

“Just a one or two. General Billaba had some hard questions.”

“Billaba's been out of the fight too long. I know she went through it after Haruun Kal, but to be questioning us? That's kark, sir.” Fives crossed his arms. "She just got that seat back anyways."

“They’re allowed to ask questions. It was certainly a… unique situation.”

“Well, if you need someone to take out another Jedi…”

“That’s not funny, Fives. You’re just dying to get that court martial.”

“I was going to suggest Tup.” Fives wiggled his brows.

“Di’kut.” Rex muttered under his breath as his eyes shot upward.

Fives chuckled, enjoying the little victory of pulling an eye roll from Rex.

“The briefing’s not why you’re here, though.” Rex’s serious look melted into a wry smile. “What’s on your mind, Fives?”

Fives sighed. He never could keep anything from Rex. Maybe it was because they were brothers, or maybe it was because Rex had known him since he was a shiny on his first mission. Sometimes, he suspected it was because he was similar to Rex in ways the older clone would never admit. Whatever it was, Rex could tell he wasn’t just in his office for a nightcap.

“The new medic… what’s her deal?” Fives asked, hoping his voice was more neutral than he felt.

“Amal Darroch?” Rex raised an eyebrow at him. “Comes highly decorated and recommended from the 104th. Took everything I had to pry her from Wolffe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he hung up on me the first three times I asked.” Rex chuckled to himself. Fives sometimes forgot that Rex was a younger brother too.

“We need medics that bad?” Fives frowned.

“Not just medics. We need the best medics.” Then Rex eyed the arc trooper. “Come on, you know that better than anyone. Kix is ready to ban you from the medbay.”

Fives tried to smile at the joke but found it refused to come. Instead, he kept thinking about Mal.

“And she’s the best?”

“What’s on your mind, Fives?” Rex repeated. “You’re usually not this shy about sharing.”

“Dunno…” She’s hiding something. Maybe multiple things. He wanted to shout it, grab Rex by the shoulders and shake him until he could see what Fives saw, but instead, he hesitated. They did need medics, and they needed good ones. If she was that good, his brothers would be better off with her around. “Just have some questions about her, is all.”

“Well, I’m here if you need anything.” Rex reached for his datapad, sensing the conversation was over. “Just try not to kill her or kriff her.”

Fives finally forced a laugh as he stood with a small salute.

“Roger, roger.”

Fives shut the door behind him, leaving Rex to his plans. The silent hallways that lined his path back to the barracks were even louder on his return route. Mal’s face swam before him. A flash of her laugh and the parting of her full lips melted into the image of her stoic greeting. And if she was hiding this, what else was she hiding? Why did a civilian join the war when most of them prefered to stay safe on their cities and planets far from the battle lines? What game was she playing here? This wasn’t a game to him. This was his life and his brothers’ lives. He thought of how she shifted in her seat at the mention of Takodana. There was no doubt about it. Mal was hiding more than just their night together, and Fives would have to keep an eye on her until he found out what it was.

…

Her paddle sliced through the inky glass of the water with the precision of a beskar blade. She quickly lifted the wooden tool, letting the canoe propel forward with the smallest wake. Despite the exactness of her strokes, Mal never looked down. Instead, she frowned at the horizon. It was dark and the air still held the wet chill of the night before it turns to dew, but the midnight blue at the very edges of the sky had started to pale, a sure sign that she had stayed too long. She wasn’t late. Not yet. But she paddled with a speed that she hadn’t practiced in a long time. Her shoulders ached, muscles that had long been forgotten in the mines, called out in protest of her neglect but she never winced or paused.

She stepped out into the shallows without a splash and pulled the boat into the overgrown shore where she covered it in the browning large leaves and the ivy, damp from yesterday’s rain. Mal wiped the soil on her palms along the edges of her poncho before she reached a hand into the bag at her side. She felt the delicate petals of the nysillin and finally let her shoulders fall from her ears.

The path was overgrown, disused in the last year since the Mining Guild came, but she knew it by heart. Her feet led on as she scanned the dark underbrush, one hand on her blaster and the other one on her bag.

She’d only made a few steps into the dark woods when a sound made her stop. Someone or something had coughed. In a flash, she pulled her blaster from her hip, gripping it at the ready as she scanned the trees.

“How did I know I’d find you still here?”

Her eyes finally landed on the source of the sound. Leaning against a large oak a few yards up the path was a tall man, his muscled arms crossed in front of his broad chest, cutting a stern profile in the shadow of the woods. Her eyes focused on the shape and, in the last throes of starlight, she began to make out a familiar profile.

“Couldn’t help me with the boat, huh?” Mal raised an eyebrow as she lowered her blaster.

“As I recall, last time I tried to help you with the boat, you hit me with an oar.” The sandy-haired man gave a small sideways smile and for a brief moment, she recognized the boy she grew up with.

She snorted, “I forgot about that.” She watched the smile evaporate from his face and the boy she knew was gone and replaced with a soldier. Before she could wonder if he something similar had passed through his mind, she let her eyes fall to her side as she lowered her weapon. “I could have shot you.”

“You probably should’ve.” Niall’s tone was suddenly stern. “But you’re still too slow on the trigger.”

“I’m cautious,” she bit back. Mal walked past the shadow.

“Not cautious enough. What are you still doing out here?”

Mal sighed, stopping to let him catch up to her. They walked side-by-side but they both carefully watched the woods around them as they went, blasters still drawn.

“Which one?” Even though she knew the answer.

“Taron, of course.” Niall tutted, knowing she knew.

“He shouldn’t have worried you.”

“What if Aavia was out here? You know she senses these things. She wouldn’t think twice before killing you and your brothers just for fun.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Mal snapped. “She’s not even planet side. I checked.”

“Still a risk.”

“I needed nysillin.” She stopped short as a tree swayed, but it was only the wind. “Maz hasn’t been able to get anything through the blockade in weeks.”

“Well that’s up to me to worry about.” Niall turned to her and reached out. He gripped her shoulders a little too hard. “Mal, your Da told me to keep you out of this fight.”

“That’s not his decision anymore, is it?” She took a step back as she shrugged.

The step back became a step forward and then another until she fell through the familiar wood doorway.

A pair of green eyes met her. Taron was sitting at the table with his blaster trained at the door. She didn’t have time to wonder where Cadex was. The door shut behind her and she knew if she turned, the other twin would be behind with his own blaster.

“You’re late.” Taron snapped with all the angst of a teenager as Cadex threw the bolt with a click.

Mal tossed the nysillin on the table before she sprang forward to take advantage of her sitting brother. She ran a hand through his hair, something that always drove him crazy, but was much harder now that he was taller than her.

Taron scoffed and quickly flattened his red locks back down.

“Stop, you’re so annoying.” Taron huffed.

“That was stupid.” Cadex frowned, circling around the table to lecture her. “You cut it too close.”

Mal knew it wouldn’t help his mood, but she smiled as Cadex crossed his arms. He was doing his best impression of Jonan Darroch, even if he didn’t realize it.

“Okay, Da.” she giggled.

Mal blinked and then started, laughter dying in her lips.

Where Cadex had been standing, Jonan Darroch now stood. Where their house had been, the town center had filled in the gaps, leaking through the floorboards like quicksand, pulling their house down to reveal only gray stone and boarded-up shops. Mal knew what came next. A red lightsaber already glowed in her Da's belly.

“You were supposed to protect them.” Da’s voice filled the square and echoed off the cobblestone as it filled her ears, his face contorting as his last breath twisted his words into a piercing shriek.

Jonan Darroch, a tall blue woman stepped out, letting the man collapse to the ground as she drew back her blade. Mal watched as her Da crumbled, lifeless. She tried to run to him, to scream for help, but she found herself frozen. Again.

Aavia smirked, her red eyes sparkling with a cruel mirth. Behind her, the twins stood still, arms behind their backs. She forgot how much taller Taron was now. When she looked up at him, she could see the emerald lodes running out from his dark pupils.

Not irises. Veins. She could see the veins of the leaves, even on the gray day. Rivers of water ran along its creased center and fell off in heavy droplets onto her face. Aavia’s gleeful voice cut the patter of the rain.

“And you called me a murderer.”

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oceansssblue · 1 month ago

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Hey there sw fans!

Just posted a sweet&fluffy princess!femreader/servant!rex AU oneshot for the 100bluecelebprompt, if y'all wanna check it out :)

On another note, I'm gonna give y'all a few more days to request any more "rare/unusual kinks" (with any clone) before I end the list and switch to "unusual pairings" requests.

Have fun & a good night guys!

Xx,

Blue.

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mrs2224 · 2 years ago

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Commander Wolffe Shirtless? Yes I gotchu

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

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Karrde's Fandom Friday Rec #2 (8/4/23)

My second rec this week has to go to @cyarbika for her fic Walk Me Home. I've written Bee entire book reports about how good this fic is, but words honestly fail me. Bee has created a cast of original characters that are so wonderful and rich that they fit perfectly in with canon while also being immensely relatable. The way she writes Wolffe is absolute perfection, and I already loved Cherise based on NSA (I know she wasn't technically Cherise then, but she already felt like a fully-flushed out character even then), but I have fallen even more in love with her with every chapter of WMH. Bee has written such a devastatingly beautiful story about love, perseverance, and finding your way in a galaxy rocked by tragedy, and I cannot recommend it enough, even for those that aren't necessarily Star Wars fans. I could go on and on (and have done so in Bee's comments lol), but I just gotta say that everyone should check it out for themselves.

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #commander wolffe #OC Cherise #commander wolffe x oc #commander wolffe x original female character #commander wolffe x ofc #wolffeheart

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 2 years ago

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Pieces - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: Swearing, drinking.

Word Count - 9.2k

A/N: ALRIGHT NERDS! I'M BACK HAHAHAHA.

After what feels like the world's longest hiatus, my personal life is back on track and this fic is ticking over once again. To apologise for my absence may I present a 9k chapter that I spent far too long agonising over. Biggest of thank yous to @wild-karrde - Karrde my friend, you are the reason this fic continues to live, thank you for all your help, advice, and for battling through my lack of commas <3, one day I will learn 😁.

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Steam clouded Issa’s lenses as she wrapped her thin hands around the mug of tea before her, lifting the red liquid to her lips. The Jedi took a sip and gave a content sigh as the warm drink did its work of fighting off the cool from the ship’s air supply.

It was her first moment of peace in little over a month she realised. The fighting on Antar 4 had been relentless, and the only reason for the battalion’s sudden respite was the fact that their initial campaign had been a success. They’d managed to push the Separatists out of the main city, and established a secure perimeter to keep them out, which gave Antar 4’s elected government the chance to begin their defence efforts against the local terrorists. There were a few moments where things had been tight and times when casualties had been higher than anticipated, but overall, their success had been noted by the Jedi Council and higher ups in the GAR.

That recognition is what led them to this point, being aboard the Triumphant and heading back to Coruscant. It seemed now that the 104th had proven themselves, Issa, her master and the battalion were being reassigned to a more pressing fight in the war.

This morning they’d welcomed the 182nd Legion and their general, Master Kolar. They spent a few hours bringing them up to speed on their surroundings before beginning the process of packing up and shipping out. It’d been a long day, but the troops were looking forward to sleeping in their own bunks again on the Venator.

As was she.

Fighting on the frontlines of a war was something Issa had truly had to experience in order to gain some semblance of understanding of what it would be like. Words and stories didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. It’d been grinding, dirty, and exhausting to the bone. The fear and uncertainty she felt each time she got a chance to close her eyes pushed rest and ease far from her mind.

It had been an odd feeling, not being able to slow her mind for such an extended period of time. Everything had felt thrown together and reactive, no matter how long they’d spent hunched over a holotable, strategising into the early hours of the morning. The Pantoran also didn't remember a time when she’d been among other people’s company for so long, having spent years in the calm and steady presence of only Master Plo on their extended research missions. She’d always found solace on her own, in her own safe spaces where she could unwind. But out there, she’d had no escape, especially with every sense being pushed to the extremes. It’d been overwhelming to say the least.

But, in spite of it all, she and a majority of their men survived.

We’re still here.

Since they’d returned to the Triumphant, Plo had given her the green light to retreat to her quarters to take stock of herself and what they’d all been through together the past month, while still fulfilling her new command duties but from a distance. It’d been a couple of days since she’d seen anyone really, but it had helped, so she was thankful for her Master’s understanding as always.

Having gotten used to sleeping for short bursts while on the frontlines, Issa was struggling to readjust back to a normal sleeping pattern. She’d spent a good hour that night tossing and turning in her bunk before giving up and hunkering down in the mess hall with a cup of tea and a few datapads.

Might as well use the time to get some new scenery and do some work.

As another smooth sip of tea warmed her throat, it hit Issa that it’d been nearly a year since the last time she’d had this particular blend, and for a moment she was transported back in time. She was back in Obi-Wan’s quarters at the temple with him and one of her closest friends, Anakin. The Jedi Master was a connoisseur of teas from around the galaxy, always trying to stop off and pick up different recipes while away on missions. He’d been particularly excited about the one he’d finally managed to source from a small village on Karlinus. The three of them sat in his sparse room while the steam of freshly boiled water drifted through the small space, quietly chatting and joking amongst themselves. She remembered Anakin’s face behind his Master’s back as he grimaced at the drink’s sweet taste, sticking his tongue out dramatically in a way he knew would have Issa chuckling. He'd always been one who sought out the more bitter flavours in life, like the ten cups of caf he drank each day.

With a knowing smile as he turned back around to the pair, Obi-Wan shook his head as he caught the way Anakin tried to hide his reaction from him. “I feel as though your palate might be a lost cause, my Padawan.”

The Pantoran smiled, shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Anakin’s failed antics. Issa couldn’t believe that the young Jedi she’d spent half her life training alongside had recently been promoted to the rank of Knight, making history as one of the youngest in the Order aged just nineteen. She was truly proud of her friend. It seemed he was truly destined for greatness, and Issa could think of no one more deserving. I’ll have to congratulate Obi-Wan on finally being free of his Padawan too.

As the feeling of nostalgia settled in warmly within her chest, Issa placed down her cup and grabbed her abandoned stylus so she could continue her notes on Antar 4. She’d been studying a battle plan when the door to the mess swished open. Issa noticed someone paused in the doorway for a moment before entering the room with a huff. “What are you doing up?” the new entrant questioned.

“Hello to you too, Wolffe,” Issa replied, not lifting her eyes from the work before her. “I’m going over those strategies we drew up with Book and Master Plo. I want to make sure I know them inside and out for the briefing on Coruscant.”

“Well you’re not going to be of any use to us half dead on your feet. You should get some sleep.”

“Could say the same to you, Commander. What are you doing up?”

Wolffe just grunted at her before making his way over to the caf machine and pouring himself a strong cup. Still maintaining his silence, he leaned back against the counter and stared down into the dark liquid before him. Issa chanced a moment to look her commander over. He was clad in his black body glove he usually wore under his armour, and his eyes were heavy with the beginnings of dark circles blooming beneath them. Her eyes traced up to his hair, which was slightly mussed, and his frown was even more downturned than usual, which was really saying something.

Wolffe had something on his mind, that much was obvious. Though it was also kyber clear that he didn’t come in here to talk. In fact, he was surprised to have seen her, which meant he’d likely been looking for some solitude.

Do I check on him anyway? Issa asked herself. She knew she would likely be met with a biting response demanding she mind her own business, but as her eyes flitted over to Wolffe once more, his sombre expression gave her the final push of concern she needed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered quietly, averting her eyes so that they remained firmly on the datapads before her so as to not put him off with any unwanted attention. Issa and Wolffe weren’t exactly close. The clone commander was rather rough around the edges, and they were still finding their feet with whatever working relationship they were forging, which added a nice layer of uncertainty to many interactions between them.

“No,” Wolffe grumbled. Though he didn’t say anything else, which was more positive than Issa was expecting.

“Okay.”

Maker, this is awkward.

With a small nod, Issa pushed her frames higher up her nose and returned to her work while Wolffe began sipping at his hot caf. A good few minutes went by, and they settled into a rocky silence while Issa lost herself in strategies and plans. She became so engrossed in the data before her that when Wolffe spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“We lost some good men in that last battle.” Wolffe’s voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it could probably be called a whisper, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like he’d shouted into the quiet room.

Issa knew her eyes had widened in shock, confused and relieved that Wolffe was actually talking about what was bothering him. She peered up at him through her lenses and settled the datapads away from her, giving the commander her full attention. “We did. Wrexler, Vick, Kip, Dino and Zander were all great guys.”

Now it was Wolffe’s turn to look shocked. “You remember all their names?”

“Of course. Master Plo and I said we’d learn everyone’s names that first day we all met. We don’t say things we don’t mean. You’re people Wolffe, not droids. The lives we lose aren’t so easily swept away for us either you know.” Wolffe grunted again and fell silent, staring back into the mug in his hand as if it held the answers to whatever questions he was torturing himself with.

Feeling brave and maybe stupid, Issa took a steadying breath before choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… blame yourself?”

Wolffe’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his amber irises burning with something she couldn’t pinpoint, making Issa swallow. Shit, okay too far. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she held her hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Great, that’ll set us back nicely. Smooth Straun.

As Issa mentally kicked herself, she noticed that something in her reaction to his heated gaze had caused Wolffe’s frustration at her to cool. His glare softened, and he averted his eyes to stare at the wall to his side as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy while bouncing his leg ever so slightly.

“Yes,” he eventually replied, biting the word out as if it went against everything in him to utter it. It took Issa a moment to realise he was responding to her question. So he does blame himself. Wolffe continued. “I’m their Commander, my choices lead to their deaths. I’m the person who's supposed to protect them.”

“That’s not your job alone, Wolffe. If that’s your logic, Plo and I are equally as to blame as you.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” she asked. Her question wasn’t fuelled by impatience or frustration at Wolffe’s mindset but by genuine curiosity. Issa wanted to understand exactly the reason why he was putting this responsibility solely on his shoulders.

“Because you’re not one of us,” he snapped, eyes burning brightly once more. His harsh tone appeared to be an accident as a sliver of regret slipped onto his features while he flexed his jaw.

Issa gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I'm not offended.” Every soldier lost is another member of his family gone, another face identical to his that was taken too soon. “It’s personal for you, I understand.”

Wolffe scoffed and lifted a hand to rub at his jawline, his fingers scraping across the rough, growing stubble there. “I don’t need a lecture on the losses of war, just so you know.”

Issa’s smile grew. “I wasn’t planning on one. I was just going to say that should you ever want to share that burden, Master Plo and I are carrying it as well, maybe in a different way, but we are. We’re here to support you, Wolffe, as much as you are us.” He didn’t have a reply to that, but Issa was happy that she’d been heard. She chanced a look down at the chrono on one of the datapads and realised it was very early in the morning.

“Hey, since we’re both up, fancy a spar? Might help tire you out.”

Wolffe took another sip of his drink with a raised eyebrow. “A spar?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle a Jedi?” Issa teased, which earned her one of Wolffe’s signature eye rolls, slow and exaggerated, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

“Fine. But I'm not explaining to the general why his padawan’s pride is in pieces tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The pair made their way to the training room. The open space was cast in shadow until the sensors detected their presence and triggered the lights to roll on. In the centre of the hangar was a blue mat, which Issa stepped onto gently. The plastic covering was cool beneath her feet as she stretched her arms above her head, sighing as some of the bones in her back popped. Kriff, I’ve been sitting down for too long. Across from her, Wolffe shook his limbs out and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“What sort of spar did you have in mind?” he questioned as he pulled an arm behind his back, stretching the Republic cog in the middle of his shirt even further across his broad chest.

Issa shrugged. “You’re my military teacher. I thought you could decide.”

“Fine. Hand-to-hand it is. You know the rules?” Issa shook her head and he continued. “Mostly anything goes, though no career-ending hits, and if your opponent taps three times you let go and the match is over. Clear?”

“As transparisteel.” At her confirmation, Wolffe locked eyes with her and met her in the middle of the mat. The area they were fighting on was rather large; the hangar the mat sat in was designed to house multiple gunships, and the mat itself was almost the size of one. Issa took a steadying breath as she tracked the strong commander in front of her.

“Sure you wanna do this Straun?” Waves of confidence rolled off of the clone as he stepped closer.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Alright.” The word had barely left his lips before he darted forward with a swing of his right fist. Issa managed to duck just in time to miss Wolffe’s punch, but her confusion left her open, which Wolffe utilised by delivering a swift kick to her ribs, winding Issa and forcing her back a few paces.

For someone so bulky, I thought he’d move a hells of a lot slower than that. Unfortunately the universe wasn’t that kind. It seemed the commander had plenty of training on keeping his speed up in a fight. The Pantoran heaved a few ragged breaths before she willed her breathing back under control.

“Sure you want to carry on?” The question was genuine, but the slight upturn on the corner of his lips made Issa bristle.

“Only just getting started, Wolffe.”

They traded blows back and forth fairly evenly from then on, Issa decidedly not underestimating her commander any further. She might not have had military training, but the ways of the Force lended well to combat, and her years at the temple hadn’t all been studying and katas. She’d trained on how to fight without her weapon just as much as she had with it. It was just a skill she hadn’t had to call upon in a real world scenario in a while. As she analysed Wolffe’s movements and opportunities for attack, her training slowly came trickling back on how she could lean on the Force to make her movements more swift, her attacks hit harder, her defensive positions more fortified.

By the time they were bone-tired and sweaty from their fight, Issa had managed to get a few good hits in on the clone commander, including a kick to his cheek that left the skin bright red. Overall, Wolffe had bested her more times and was the clear winner of the fight, but it was progress, both in her training to become a better commander and also in her relationship with Wolffe. This had been the longest the two of them had been left unsupervised, and they were both still talking to each other, which Issa felt was a great victory.

“Not bad, Straun, though you’re thinking too much. I can tell you were holding back at times. You don’t trust yourself. You’ve got to get more comfortable with your abilities if you want to throw your all into a fight.”

“Right.”

“We’ll try again when we stop off on Coruscant, bring a few of the men in so I can point some things out to you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Wolffe.” The commander nodded at her and the room descended into silence until an almighty yawn tore its way through Issa before she could stop herself. She met Wolffe’s gaze, a look of exasperated confusion conveyed through his raised eyebrow as she gave a sheepish chuckle.

He huffed at her with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back to the barracks.”

The pair of them walked in silence through the halls of the Triumphant, passing the odd pair of patrols on their way who always stopped to salute their two commanders. Finally they arrived at their neighbouring rooms and bid each other goodnight before Issa collapsed onto her bunk and drifted immediately off to a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day the 104th arrived on Coruscant. Issa, Plo, Wolffe and Admiral Coburn had been holed up in a meeting room for an in-person debrief of the situation on Antar 4. They’d spent hours divulging everything including their findings on the enemy, loss ratios and any future battle plans they had drawn up which could be passed onto the 182nd, who would be taking over the protection of the Republic-aligned moon.

It’d been a long day, but Issa felt confident that she’d been able to contribute to the meeting where appropriate rather than just listening and learning. They’d also been told that they’d be heading to the Outer Rim to Scariff. Apparently the Separatists were planning to build a factory on the planet and were shipping in large portions of materials for the development. The 104th’s job would be to disrupt the delivery of the materials and take out as many of the enemy forces as they could.

Since landing on Antar 4, it felt as though everything had been non-stop for the battalion. They’d barely had a moment's respite in the month they’d been fighting, and it was starting to show among the troops. Thankfully, Plo had convinced the council to extend their layover in the Republic’s capital for an extra couple days, giving the full squad some well-earned downtime.

The news of their first night off had sent shockwaves of celebration through the ranks of the 104th, which warmed Issa’s heart. They’d fought hard in tough terrain and deserved the time to themselves to revel in their victory and remember the brothers they’d lost. What had sweetened the deal even more for the soldiers was that the Republic had created a bar dedicated to the clones right here on Coruscant where they could drink for free and enjoy their downtime in peace amongst their brothers.

The Wolfpack were truly overjoyed with the news of a night partying and had even kindly extended the invite to their two Jedi to join them. However, Plo and Issa decided that the troopers deserved a real night off, away from their natborn commanding officers, as Issa had learned they’d been called.

At the GAR headquarters, Issa was chatting pleasantly with Admiral Coburn as they exited the meeting room, the pair trailing behind Master Plo and Wolffe. The padawan watched as the two men in front of her talked amongst themselves. It was clear to see in Wolffe’s presence how he respected his general, and while Issa was on the road to earning that respect herself, it warmed her to know that Plo had the same effect on other people as he had on her. From her few conversations with Wolffe over the past couple months, Issa had been gaining snippets on Wolffe’s views and the weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he shouldered, and it was clear that his trust was rarely given out. Issa was glad he at least had someone of seniority who he could truly put his faith into beyond the respectful level of courtesy he automatically gave as clone commander.

Admiral Coburn cleared his throat politely, drawing the small group to a stop. “Padawan Straun, Master Plo, Commander Wolffe, I’m afraid I will have to bid you a farewell here. Please enjoy the rest of your shore leave and I look forward to our first mission together in a few days.”

“Thank you Admiral, we shall see you soon,” Plo replied, nodding in goodbye as the naval officer turned on his heel and down an adjacent hallway, his shiny black boots clacking on the metallic flooring as he walked away.

“Issa, I believe we should head back to the temple.”

“Yes of cour-'' Issa was cut off by her comm chirping, the light flashing up at her from her vambrace. Her forehead creased as she clicked the button on the device. “This is Commander Straun.”

“Sir, it’s Sinker. We were hoping you could come down to the barracks with Commander Wolffe after your meeting.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably best you didn’t.” Issa could practically hear Sinker’s smirk on the other end of the line, picturing his silver eyes sparkling in mischief, likely with Boost and TP hanging over his shoulders.

“Alright, we’re finished now so we’ll head down.”

“Well it appears you have other business,” Plo suggested fondly. “Enjoy your evening Commanders.”

Issa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll be back at the temple after this, Master,” she assured.

The Kel Dor said nothing as he inclined his head at the both of them and began walking towards the exit, leaving Issa perplexed. She chanced a look at Wolffe to see if he could elaborate on what had just transpired. Unfortunately all she received was a restrained eye roll before he silently led the way to the turbo lift, leaving her to trail after him.

During the battalion’s stay on Coruscant, their troopers were given bunks at the Guard’s sleeping quarters. The lower levels beneath the HQ practically acted as a clone hotel; there were levels upon levels of rooms for any visiting soldiers to use alongside the resident red and white troopers.

As the lift skid to a halt, the pair stepped out and made their way to where the 104th were staying.

—-------

The slow and deliberate thump of footsteps sounded. Followed by the scrape of something metallic being dragged across the floor.

The man held his breath, hands clamped over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him as the attackers' steps sounded ever closer.

Suddenly all noises came to a halt, and the man could do nothing but wait… Until–

“Booooook, come on it’s going to be morning by the time you put that ‘pad down, vod,” Boost whined as he clipped his now polished vambrace back into place.

The strategist locked his datapad reluctantly and sighed. His perfectly crafted world for his story in his mind had now officially been shattered at the interruption. Can’t get a minute's peace in this place. A heavy weight fell onto the mattress next to him, causing the clone to bounce slightly.

“Yeah Bookworm, we want some attention for a change,” Two-Pint teased, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder and yanking him into his side for a crushing hug.

Book scowled as he fought the stronger man for his freedom, his copper hair ending up more than a little ruffled as he broke away with a half-hearted frown. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The heavy gunner grinned. “I do.”

“Come on short-ass, be nice,” Boost challenged with a mischievous smirk, which only widened at Two-Pint’s pout at his own nickname. Serves him right, Book thought smugly.

“Alright alright, reign it in you lot,” Wolffe chided as he made his presence known with a humoured Commander Straun standing at his side.

“Commanders! Perfect timing,” Sinker called out pleasantly as he pulled his gloves on.

With one last ruffle of Book’s hair, TP and Boost moved away to find their boots. The strategist carded a hand through his red curls to try and tame them while his Jedi Commander walked over to take TP’s spot at his side.

The Pantoran bumped his shoulder lightly with her own and gave him a small smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a thriller novel.” He tried not to sound too deflated, but he couldn’t help it. He loved reading, but moments of jabs with his brothers served to remind him that he was a bit of an outlier in their group. He wasn’t crazy about weapons like TP and Cloud, or strong like Boost and Sinker. Instead he favoured learning and reading as his method of developing his skills as a soldier. Book knew his squad didn’t mean anything by their teasing; it was their way of showing that they cared, but even still, it did a good job of highlighting just how different he was sometimes.

Of course, the Jedi next to him was somehow able to figure all this out without him even having to utter a word. With a gentle look in her eyes behind her lenses, she placed a blue hand at his shoulder bell. “You know, as much as the ‘Pack love to wind you up, your interests are what make you you Book. Your brothers would never want you to change or be ashamed of them. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… I know.” He gave a small smile of thanks. Because he did know. But it was nice to have the reminder every now and then he supposed.

Seemingly content that she’d eased his worries, the Jedi looked up at the rest of the group. Their previously battle-worn armour had been cleaned and polished, not the the point of shininess as each scrape and scuff ingrained in the plastoid was a sign of each battle survived, but clean enough to not be caked with the mud and blood of their last campaign.

“So Sinker, you called?” Issa questioned as she caught the sergeant’s eye.

“Yeah, we’re going out sir, and you’re coming with.”

Still sitting next to Book, Issa sighed. “Guys we went over this-”

“Yeah but we’ve decided to overrule you, so there you have it,” Boost explained, leaving no room for argument.

“We want you to come along, Commander. It’ll be fun. You’re one of us anyway. Your insides were christened with TP’s brew,” Cloud added with a soft smile.

Smirking, Issa replied. “Oh so there is a reward for suffering through that.”

The heavy gunner in question somehow managed to pout even harder, which given his intimidating exterior, only served to make the room chuckle. “Hey! Don’t you all come crying to me when you want a night to unwind.”

“We’re kidding ‘Pint.” Sinker huffed as he threw his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a loose headlock.

Eventually the Wolfpack stopped rough housing and were ready to paint the town red, as it were.

—---

79’s was a beacon of life. Neon boards decorated the walls while the sound of laughter and chatter wove through the notes of the heavy bass music reverberating through the venue. The dance floor was already packed, clones and natborns alike dancing their troubles away, connecting with new souls as their inhibitions faded and bodies moved to the beat. At the bar, a group of pilots were sharing a round of shots while a squad of commandos in their heavy duty armour took quiet sanctuary in a booth in the corner, flirting with the beings who’d captured their attention.

Issa couldn’t quite believe that the Republic was providing such a normal place for the troopers to unwind. I suppose it’s the least they can do. After all, they are heroes fighting for the civilians across the galaxy, protecting their way of life.

As the Wolfpack made their way towards an empty table, Issa noticed a few of the patrons whispering as they passed. While most of 79’s was full of plain white armour, she supposed a maroon, wolf-stylised commander and Pantoran Jedi were a bit of a giveaway as to which battalion they were. It seemed their success on Antar 4 had been passed through the other ranks.

Next to her, Boost nudged her with his elbow, smirking. “How’s it feel to be famous, Commander?”

“Famous is a bit of a stretch.” Issa rolled her eyes at the sergeant who chuckled next to her.

“I don’t think that’ll be our last big win, so you best start getting used to it.”

Once the group had settled in their spot, Issa had offered to get the troopers their first round of drinks, allowing them to relax for a moment while she navigated the sea of bodies to reach the bar. After finally clearing a space for herself to lean forwards, the Pantoran drummed her fingers on the neon surface as she waited to be served. She was minding her own business until the being next to her gave her a nudge, knocking the Jedi off balance. Frustrated at the person’s lack of awareness, she spun around to confront them. That was her plan at least, but unfortunately the person she came face to face to made her pause, her fiery words dying on her tongue.

“Quin? What are you doing here?” Issa breathed.

There he was, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master and Shadow, back from his extended mission like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year without a word. It’d been a while, but it appeared his flare for the dramatic hadn’t changed.

“Issa! I was supposed to meet Aayla but she got stuck doing General things, so I stayed for the free booze and pleasant scenery. Fancy seeing you here.” His honesty and cheeky smile were so familiar that it nearly made her heart ache. It’d been too long since she’d last had a chance to spend time with her friend and despite all of his bravado, Issa had missed him dearly. He looked well, a few new scars littered his bare upper arms and his dreadlocks had grown, extending to his jawline, but he was in one piece. A weight the Pantoran didn’t know she had been carrying suddenly lightened, and she smiled fondly at the Kiffar’s antics.

“The drinks aren’t free for you, you know,” she chided.

“Ah but surely they’ll have to take pity on a poor religious figure like me. Remember young Padawan, Jedi can have no attachments, which means no material items, which means no credits to buy those items, which means free watered-down Corellian ale,” Vos explained while lifting his drink in the air in a ‘cheers’ motion before taking a satisfied sip.

“That’s not how that works, and you’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Quin replied with a beaming smile of pride.

Without another word, Issa launched herself at the man, locking her arms tightly around his neck and catching him by surprise. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Issa felt it as Quinlan relaxed in her hold and wrapped his own glove-clad arms around her middle, smiling into her shoulder. “Missed you too, kid.”

Issa was finally able to place her order and while she waited, she spent the time catching up with the man she’d come to look up to as a brother. His mission had been a success, as they always were, and he managed to take down a critical drug ring in the outskirts of the Mid-Rim.

Smiling with pride, Issa nudged the man beside her. “Sounds like another job well done.”

“Yeah, it went about as well as the Council would allow.” The end of his sentence was slightly muffled as he lifted his glass to his lips, but Issa heard him all the same.

She took a moment, trying to unpick the meaning hidden in Quin’s words. “The Council? I thought you were heading this as a Shadow?”

“Let’s just say if it was up to me, I’d still be out there.”

“Why?” Issa’s brows were furrowed as she tried to navigate Quinlan’s vague hints.

The Shadow Jedi seemed to have noticed her questioning look and snapped out of his mood with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Let’s talk about something else. How’s the war going, Commander?”

His sudden change of topics perplexed Issa. Whatever Vos found at the end of his assignment had him on edge, and seemed to be straining his already tenuous relationship with some members of the council. Not wanting to spark a debate about the politics of the Order at that moment, Issa let him off the hook for now and launched into her experiences of leading an army for the past month.

“You’ll have to come meet the Wolfpack. They’ve heard all about you.”

“All flattering things I presume.” Just as Issa went to reply, a light began blinking on Quin’s forearm, pulling his attention. “Ah I better get this, but I’ll see you over there in a bit.”

While Vos trudged through the many bodies to an exit, a striking Mirialan placed a tray of drinks in front of her, which Issa took with a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender before using all her concentration to avoid spilling the ale as she finally reached the 104th’s table for the evening.

Now that everyone had a drink in hand, the Pantoran allowed herself the chance to relax, sliding into the spot Sinker had made for her at the edge of the booth, facing Wolffe across the other side of the table. His permanent frown was unsurprisingly still in place, but it was slightly softer than usual which was nice to see. This may be as relaxed as I'll ever see him.

After a round of ‘cheers’ and the first few sips of their drinks, they asked about Quin after having seen the two of them during their reunion.

“Do all Jedi make fashion choices alarmingly unsuitable for battlefields?” Wolffe cut in sarcastically, making Issa bark out a laugh she wasn’t expecting, nearly choking on her drink.

“Actually if Quin had his way, he would probably rather have a lot more of himself on display, but he needs things like the gloves he wears to prevent accidental use of his Psychometry. It’s a power that lets him see impressions or events tied to an object based on who’s touched or used it previously. As you can imagine, that can get quite invasive quite quickly.”

“Woah, can you do that?”

“Unfortunately not. Jedi all have similar basic skill sets, the standard things we’re taught at the temple, but some of us excel further in some areas or are born with special abilities. Quin was born with Psychometry. It’s a common gift among Kiffars, and it runs in his family. He’s grown incredibly skilled in it, but it can be quite overwhelming at times, hence the gloves. While psychometry is one example, some Jedi have been known to have deep connections with animals, plants, space matter and even technology, making them easier to read or utilise with the Force.”

“Have you got a fancy skill, sir?”

“I’ve always been quite good at illusions. In fact it’ll probably start to come in handy during the war so I’ve been working with Master Plo on pushing my skills a bit quicker than we normally would.”

Wolffe raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you mean by illusions?”

“Care to be a volunteer and find out?” At Issa’s challenge and smirk, Wolffe scoffed.

“Fine.” He was clearly intrigued but trying his damndest not to show it. The Jedi humoured him and took his feigned indifference as consent for her demonstration.

Issa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Using all her concentration, she manipulated the molecules around her using the Force, picturing as each one shifted and changed to mimic the image she set in her mind. As she let the air out of her lungs, she allowed her eyes to flutter open once more and took in the clones surrounding her.

“No way.”

Issa spared a look down at herself, and sure enough, she was clad in white and maroon plastoid, the skin of her hands no longer blue, but a beautiful tan.

“That’s creepy, two Wolffes is the stuff of nightmares, turn it off!” Two-Pint squealed as he tried to hide behind Book, who rolled his eyes at the heavy gunner.

Vos chose that moment to slide into the Wolfpack’s booth, smirking and elbowing Issa in her side, breaking her concentration and shattering the illusion. “I see you’re doing your-” Quin paused to do a little waggle of his fingers, “-magic show.”

Huffing, Issa shoved the Kiffar back, making him chuckle and throw an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah well we can’t all read emotions like you. Gotta find my ways to be useful somehow.”

Quin then infuriatingly chose that moment to ruffle her hair, making her bristle slightly in annoyance as her troopers chuckled, Wolffe notably was taking great joy in her embarrassment at the hands of the Shadow as he smirked slightly behind his glass.

“When I tell you guys that your commander got us into some trouble over the years at the temple using those little tricks of hers.”

“Ha! I knew I liked you sir!” Two-Pint exclaimed with a beaming grin.

Soon introductions were made, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant comradery with the Wolfpack and Vos. Issa realised now that she’d been worried about nothing. Spending an evening with her troopers hadn’t seemed to have stopped them from being able to enjoy themselves and relax, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy spending her free time hanging out with them. They were a fun group; even Wolffe had gradually loosened up ever so slightly as the night dragged on, matching the boisterous energy of his brothers around him as they joked and wound each other up.

It’s nice to see.

—----

Much to Book’s dismay, the Wolfpack and two Jedi had eventually gravitated to the dance floor as the alcohol in their system began to do its work. The strategist had cut himself off a few drinks prior to that, not interested in losing control of himself that evening. Subtly, Book had managed to excuse himself from his dancing battalion, giving him the chance to escape to the sanctuary of the bar where he could take a moment to himself. He even managed to snag an empty stool, pulling himself up and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the bartenders so he could place his order. Unfortunately, it was still fairly busy, so he was left to his own devices for a moment. To keep himself occupied, he spent his time eyeing up the liquor on the back shelf of the bar and trying to guess if he could name each luminous bottle. He’d definitely read up on enough world exports by now to be able to identify most of them, so he began cataloguing each spirit quietly to himself as he waited.

For not the first time that day, the peace in his mind was once again shattered, but instead of the cause being his squad, it was the result of a loud crash of a server droid clattering into one of the beer taps. Every being in the vicinity scattered in fear of being drenched as the tap went up in a dramatic fountain display, leaving the now damp Mirialan bartender to deal with the situation.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” The bartender cursed as the battered ale tap continued to spew everywhere despite them attempting to use their hands to stop the spray. Unfortunately, the tactic only served to push the liquid to the floor as opposed to up in the air.

Looking around and noticing that no one was coming to help, Book pushed off of his stool and walked over to the scene.

“Excuse me, do you-”

“Look I’ll serve you in a sec, can’t you see i’m a bit busy?” the Mirialan snapped, huffing a breath to try and move their damp claret fringe from where it had fallen across their face. The sheer look of concentration as they attempted to fix their predicament caused the black geometric facial tattoos trailing down the centre of their forehead to crease between their brows. Book knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he dared to think that the bartender looked rather cute while flustered.

No, that is not helpful right now. Wise up, Trooper. Book cleared his throat, gearing himself up to try again. “Um, sorry, I was just going to offer some assistance. Your method of stopping the leak isn’t the most efficient. I’m happy to help.”

Those bright green eyes snapped up to his face, and he froze under the sharp gaze. Oh Maker I’ve stuck my foot in it haven’t I?

After a few dragging seconds, they finally relented, nodding behind them towards a cupboard. “Fine, there’s a wrench in there. Once you’re back we can get this sealed off and I’ll start cleaning up this mess.”

Book nodded and set about getting the tool as suggested. He ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the bartender as he tried to get the pump to seal off while they protected his face from being sprayed with alcohol.

It seemed they made a rather good team as after a few seconds of fiddling, Book managed to stop the flow, making the Mirialan sag in relief as they were finally free to move once again. “Thank the Maker for that… and you, I guess. What’s your name, Trooper?”

“Oh, uh Book, and you are…”

“Jae, Jae Tevv.” They reached a soaked hand out towards him before realising what they’d done and retracting with a nervous chuckle. “So Book, huh? How’d you manage to end up with a name like that?”

“It’s unfortunately very simple. I always had my head in a book while growing up on Kamino.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed. What kind of books? I’m always looking for some new things to add to my reading list.” Suddenly, Book found himself engaged in the most wonderful conversation about literature as the two of them fell into the flow of working as a team to fix the mess from the broken tap. Jae was incredibly well-read, enjoying a variety of genres that they spoke about with a deep passion. Book was pretty sure he had a dopey smile on his face, but Jae’s enthusiasm was infectious, so who could blame him? He could listen to them talk for hours, their hands gesturing wildly, eyes alight with excitement as they relieved one of their favourite romance novels, clearly excited to finally be able to discuss the story with another reader.

All too soon, the mess was cleaned and Book found himself running out of machinery behind the bar that he could tinker with to prolong their conversation. With a sigh, he slid the wrench back into the borrowed tool box and extended a hand to Jae to help them back to their feet from where they were scrubbing the floor.

“Thank you, Book. Both for the help and the conversation. I think I've finally met my reading match,” Jae said with a kind smile. “Now that the tap’s working again, can I buy you a drink as a thank you, something a bit more upmarket than that cheap beer the Republic is feeding you boys?”

“Ah there’s no need to thank me. Plus I best stop with the drinks now. Someone has to make sure my battalion gets home in one piece, and something tells me it won’t be my commanders.” Book spared a pointed look at his two superiors. Issa was on the dance floor with General Vos, Two-Pint, Sinker, Cloud and Boost, giggling and dancing without a care in the world, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her cup. Wolffe was seated a few tables away with one human and one Zabrak woman hanging off each arm as the three of them sank a shot each before he sat back and let the two shower him with attention. Jae followed his eyes and chuckled warmly.

“Well… If not a drink, how about dinner?” Their deep emerald eyes sparkled with the offer, making Book swallow nervously as his stomach fluttered. When did my collar get so tight?

“Uh, dinner?” he choked out.

“Yeah, dinner. Give you a chance to eat something that isn’t rations maybe. My treat, I can cook us up something.”

Book felt his face flush bright red as he averted his eyes. “Dinner. Right… yes. Dinner is good. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Jae beamed at him before grabbing his datapad out of his hands and tapping something into the notes. “Great, well, here’s my comm frequency. Drop me a message next time you’re planet-side, or if you have any more books you’d like to recommend in the meantime.”

“Yes… I'll definitely do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Book.” And just when Book thought he couldn’t get anymore flustered, Jae leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. That was the moment Book’s brain finally short-circuited. “Stay safe out there, I'm holding you to that dinner.”

Jae disappeared across the bar, set on a mission to serve the backed-up requests of orders, leaving Book standing there like a tooka in the headlights as his hand lifted up to ghost over his cheek where Jae had kissed him.

—

It was 0300 by the time Book decided to corral his brothers, Jedi, and apparently General Vos. The Wolfpack and friends collectively stumbled out of the front of 79’s, giggling amongst themselves as TP told another Maker-awful joke.

As the laughter died down, Issa strolled up next to Book and swung an arm over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief, and the strategist shook his head in anticipation. “Soooo Book, where did you run off too?”

To his right, Sinker crept up and also threw an arm around him, officially trapping him for their questioning. “Did my eyes decei-” Sinker’s question was abruptly interrupted by a chest-shattering hiccup, “...ow… anyway, did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you talking to that cute bartender?” The silver-haired clone waggled his eyebrows, making the Pantoran to Book’s left cackle loudly in his ear.

“Well actually, I was. And um, I think… I think I’m going on a date?”

At his admission, the whole group paused and spun around to face him. Book felt his face begin to heat under their teasing gaze, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, TP launched himself at him to crush the slighter clone in an almighty hug, knocking his previous two captors aside.

“Look at my little Bookworm, all grown up, going out on dates. It’s so karking cute it nearly brings a tear to my eye,” TP announced loudly while clutching Book to his side and wiping fake tears from his face, making the strategist flush with embarrassment as he shoved the heavy gunner off.

Everyone extended their congratulations to Book and finally continued on their way back to the barracks. As they walked the lower levels, Book chanced a look up to the sky above, littered with the shimmering lights of speeders flying in all directions, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face until his cheeks hurt. Despite the cheeky comments, Book felt everyone’s genuine excitement and happiness for him which warmed his heart, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was more than just a soldier bred to die on the battlefield. Because surely no cannon fodder could feel the sheer peace he felt in his chest at that moment.

—--------

Finally they reached the GAR HQ, and Quin cheerily went to bid them all a goodnight. But as he turned to Issa, his demeanour changed slightly. Issa had seen that look before during her years growing up at the temple. He was plotting something, and she had a bad feeling about just what was going on in his head.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With an air of nonchalance, Quin shrugged and lifted his hand to examine his finger nails before answering. “Do you remember that time you broke Obi-Wan’s favourite tea pot?”

The question sent a wave of guilt coursing through Issa, bringing the memory alive in her mind as she tried with all her might to push it away. It was years ago. She’d been trying to do something nice for Plo as Master Fisto had let it slip that the Kel Dor’s birthday was coming up. So Issa had decided that she’d try and make her Master his favourite tea as a surprise. She knew Obi-Wan had a full set that he brought out when he had people over, and she would’ve asked his permission but of course the young council member was stuck in the same meetings for the day as Plo. So, she’d made the decision to borrow it and leave a note, thinking Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. But as she went to leave his quarters, she tripped and couldn’t get her hands out from under the tray quick enough to use the force to catch the fragile items, leaving her to watch as they hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. She’ll never forget the image of Obi-Wan’s sad blue eyes as he cleaned the broken porcelain from his floor later that day.

The Pantoran cringed. “You know I do.”

“Well, you know how I covered for you and got a twenty minute lecture on my lack of appreciation for other people’s property and you said, and I quote,” Quin paused to clear his throat before his voice changed to a higher pitch, attempting to mimic Issa. “Oh Quin, my hero. Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“That’s not verbatim and I do not sound like that,” Issa huffed.

“Well the gist is there. The point is, I’m looking to cash in that favour. I know I said my mission is over and the council is moving me on to another problem, which is great and all, but I don’t think my job on this one is done just yet.”

“Well, did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly happy with me. Apparently because of the war we’re spread thin, and they need me to move on. I’ve gone against their word one too many times now, so they’re watching me like a Blood Eagle this time. Listen there’s a guy on the lower levels here, level 1313. He’s got connections to the Narkabb family and there’s been rumours that the crime lord’s cousin is looking to take over while there’s a power vacuum. I just need you to go down there and find out if that’s true so I can put it back on the council’s radar for someone else to pick up.”

“Maker Quin, that’s a big ask. Plus I don’t exactly want to go around pissing off the council. The same council where my Master, who is freakishly good at telling when I'm lying, is a member.”

“Yeah well, you do have the sabacc face of a Tooka in Plo’s defence,” Quin conceded with a chuckle, before shaking himself and guiding the conversation back on topic. “But seriously Issa, this information could help us save some lives later down the line. The Narkabb family is bad news, and if they’re coming back with a vengeance. People are going to pay and it won’t be me; it’ll be innocent people.”

His words were starting to affect her, wearing down her resolve. “Surely there’s someone better suited for this. Have you not heard back from Desh yet on when he’s coming home?”

Quin sobered for a moment at the mention of his closest friend. “I still can’t get hold of him,” he admitted with a frown that looked far too out of place for the usually easy-going Jedi. The admission that Desh was still out there alone, his status unknown, sat heavily on Issa’s chest.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you for this if I thought I had any other option,” Vos insisted.

Issa gnawed at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. She’d never gone against the council’s wishes before. There’s rules and hierarchy in place for a reason. But the urgency in Vos’s dark eyes was tearing at her logic. This means a lot to him, to save the people this family has hurt.

I’m so going to regret this in the morning.

“Ugh, fine, I'll do it. But I swear if I go down in front of the council for this Quin-”

“Kid, you won’t, I promise. I’ve got you covered. You're a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Issa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man before her. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“When you stop being younger than me maybe.” Quin smirked at her before sweeping her up in a hug, mumbling his thanks again into her shoulder.

The pair bid each other goodbye and Issa jogged to catch up with her troops. The Pantoran just managed to join the clones in the lift before the doors sealed shut.

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath as she tilted her head back against the durasteel of the lift and closed her eyes.

Maker’s sake, Quin. It’s been nearly ten years since the teapot incident, I can’t believe he’s been sitting on that for so long.

Next to her, Issa heard the small clang as one of the troopers copied her stance. Cloud quietly leaned a few centimetres closer before whispering. “Hey, everything okay? You seem tense.”

The quiet ones are always the most observant, Issa thought fondly.

“Yeah Cloud, I’m good. It’s just been a long day.” She didn’t expand further and he didn’t push, which Issa was beyond thankful for. The two of them stood in companionable silence as they observed the rest of the Wolfpack chatting amongst themselves while the lift continued to plummet down floor after floor to their accommodation.

The troopers had been kind enough to provide her one of their spare bunks for the night to save her having to sneak back through the temple in her inebriated state. Gracelessly, Issa nosed-dived into her bed for the evening, all background noise falling away as she settled into the hard mattress and flat pillow. As the dark bliss of sleep closed in around her, a final thought drifted through her mind, in particular an image of her Master’s amused, all-knowing look earlier that day when Sinker had first called. Issa smirked to herself at the reminder.

He knows me too well.

Taglist: @misogirl828

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 7 months ago

Text

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 12

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Sinker, Comet, Boost, Warthog

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: Phew! That was a whole lot of work, but everything has been converted from reader to oc, and every chapter has been updated to third-person past tense writing 😮‍💨 Nothing in the plot has changed, but I did update some wording and filled in a few gaps I found while I was going through the story. Y'all, the next chapter is the funeral. Enjoy this last bit of, uh... not as sad moment(?), then brace yourselves! As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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Wolffe watched from his seat at the desk chair as Cara, Comet, Boost, and Warthog continued to unpack her things and arrange the room. He had Warthog stuff his armor in the wardrobe while she wasn't looking to try and keep the mood up. She was going to have enough to be sad about when they went to the funeral soon. Too soon. He didn't even know if he was ready for it, let alone Cara. He'd already had a conversation with the Wolfpack about it, and they'd be ready to step in when he needed them.

"Commander," Sinker called from the doorway. "Can I talk to you?"

Wolffe sighed and got up from the desk chair to join Sinker out in the hallway. He left the door open so Cara wouldn't fret about his absence, but he'd keep his voice hushed so she didn't overhear their conversation. If he was lucky, she wouldn't notice that he'd stepped out of the room. Sadly, with the look on Sinker's face, Wolffe knew that whatever happened in that briefing couldn't be good, at least not in terms of their remaining time left on Coruscant, and he braced for it.

"How was the briefing?" Wolffe asked.

"We're deploying," Sinker sighed. "I'm sorry, Wolffe."

Wolffe cursed under his breath.

"According to the intel," Sinker continued, "Captain Rex and General Kenobi were taken captive by Zygerrian slavers while trying to infiltrate their operation to free some imprisoned Togrutas."

"You're kidding," Wolffe said.

"Afraid not," Sinker said. "We're being sent to Kadavo as reinforcements for the liberation."

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose. "When are we leaving?"

"Two rotations," Sinker answered. "It would've been immediate, but General Skywalker and Commander Tano are already on the ground, so it bought us some time to regroup. As is, it's going to take twelve standard rotations just to get to the Kadavo system from Coruscant."

Wolffe breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't a lot of time, but it was enough for him to get his affairs in order. He looked over at Cara and watched as she played a game with Comet and Boost. She will be devastated when he has to put his armor back on and leave. With no mother, no father, and no Wolfpack, she was going to be completely alone. It'd take at least one standard month to get to the Kadavo system and back, and that didn't even take into consideration the length of the actual mission. Liberations could last for months.

"May I be excused?" Sinker asked after Wolffe didn't respond. "I promised the general that I'd help with the… preparations."

Wolffe paused. He knew what the implications of that word meant and while he was grateful that his second in command had his hands on his wife's funeral, it was still a stab to the heart.

"Yes, of course," Wolffe stammered. "Dismissed."

Sinker left and Wolffe walked back into the room, grabbed his comm, sat down at the desk, and typed a message to Fox. We need to talk. It's important.

It took a while, but Fox eventually answered back. I'll be at the funeral.

Wolffe quickly sent another message. No, not there. Tomorrow morning. The diner.

Fox replied back after a couple of minutes. Meet me there at 0600.

Wolffe put his comm back down and anxiously tapped his foot against the floor. It was a long shot, but he needed someone to look after Cara while he and the Wolfpack were gone. Even if Fox couldn't do it, he probably had a couple of trusted brothers in the Coruscant Guard who could. It was better than the alternative of some random Jedi caretaker brainwashing his child while he was off fighting the War. He wanted to be able to trust the Jedi, he did, but he always found a small seed of doubt when he tried.

"Cara," Wolffe called. She ran over to him. "I'm going out tomorrow morning."

"You're leaving?" Cara asked, her voice full of uncertainty.

"No, baby," Wolffe soothed. "I'm just gonna see Fox for a bit."

"Can I come?" she asked.

"No," Wolffe said.

"Please?" she pleaded.

"You don't even like Fox," Wolffe argued.

Cara pouted.

"Comet will be here to watch you," Wolffe said a little louder. He looked up at Comet and received a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. "You can explore the Temple together."

Cara continued to pout.

Wolffe decided to change his tactics. There was something in the Temple that could get her excited, even if only a little bit. "You know," he began. "I heard they have a tree somewhere."

Cara perked up. "A tree?"

"Mhm," Wolffe said. "A real one." It was something Wolffe and his wife planned on doing after the War; moving to a planet full of different flora and fauna for Cara to see. His wife kept images all around their apartment of different trees and plants from around the galaxy, since Cara had never been off-world yet.

Cara gasped with wide eyes. "Can I go see it?"

"Sure," Wolffe shrugged. "But only if you stay with Comet."

Cara thought about the proposal for a moment. "I'll stay with Comet."

"That's my good girl," Wolffe praised. "You can go play now."

Cara ran back to Comet and Boost, but then turned on her heels and ran back to Wolffe.

"Daddy," she said. "I have to go potty."

Wolffe blinked a few times in surprise. He was so used to Cara using the refresher by herself at home, that it didn't even dawn on him that she might need help here. He really wasn't made for parenting, but he was going to do his best to help her. The last thing he needed right now was for her to have an accident, and right before the funeral too. He glanced at the chronometer to make sure they still had time, then took her hand and guided her through the halls to find a refresher.

There should be a one somewhere on that floor, but he didn't remember seeing it on their way in. Then again, he did zone out for a bit near the end. After walking a little further, he saw a sign, but it was for a male species refresher. He looked around and saw another sign for a female species refresher, but he wasn't sure which one he should take her in. His wife would've just taken her into the female species refresher and took care of everything. Maker he wished she was here.

Since he was a male species, did he need to bring her into that one? If he did take her there, he risked her seeing things she shouldn't be seeing. However, if he took her into the female species refresher, was he going to get arrested? He noticed Cara starting to wiggle and he knew he needed to make a decision quickly. Ultimately, Wolffe took her into the female species refresher for her own comfort and protection. If he got arrested, Fox could always bail him out.

"Do you need help?" Wolffe awkwardly asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

"No!" Cara said adamantly and slammed the stall door behind her. "Mommy said I'm a big girl and big girls use the refresher alone."

Wolffe was shocked, but rolled with it. "Oh, okay. I'll, uh, I'll wait out here then."

Wolffe wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited. He missed out on the potty training phase when Cara was two years old, and this was always his wife's territory, just like bath time. Which was something else that slipped his mind. He had no idea where the bath was, if the Temple even had a bath, or who was going to help her bathe in the morning. His wife was adamant that someone had to watch her in the bath. Maker strike him dead if she drowned when he wasn't around.

Within a few minutes, the stall door swung open and Cara came walking out. Wolffe opened his mouth to remind her about washing her hands, but before he got the chance, she was already at the sink washing her hands with soap. He didn't have to remind her; she did it all on her own. She even used the stool on her own. She didn't need his help at all. Wolffe felt a small twinge of pain in his heart. She was growing up so fast and he'd barely been around to see it. He'd missed so much, and he was going to miss even more.

"Ready to go back?" Wolffe asked after Cara finished drying her hands and hopped off of the stool.

Cara nodded and grabbed Wolffe's hand. He held it just a little tighter while they walked back to the room, because there might be a day when she no longer wanted to hold his hand, and when that day came, all he would have were the memories. It was expected of a clone to grow up fast, that was their purpose, but if he could ever find a way to stop aging, he'd give it to his daughter. It might be selfish, but he didn't want her to grow up. She was his baby girl and he wanted her to stay that way.

When rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the room, Wolffe could see Sinker standing outside of the door, dressed in his formal wear and holding what looked like Wolffe's officer uniform folded neatly in his hands. It must be that time, Wolffe guessed. He grabbed the uniform from Sinker and left Cara with him while he went into the room to change. When the door shut, Cara didn't say anything, but she did look a little confused. Sinker wasn't sure what to say to her, so instead of stumbling over his words, he said nothing.

Comet, Boost, and Warthog had already changed into their dress uniforms and went ahead, which left Sinker, Wolffe, and Cara to bring up the rear. It was fitting, in a way, for them to arrive at the funeral last. After a few moments, the door slid back open and Wolffe emerged in his officer's uniform. He fixed a couple of spots while Cara looked up at him with concern in her eyes, almost as if she knew what was going to happen, but still, no one had the heart to speak it out loud. Inevitably, it was time for them all to say goodbye.

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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years ago

Text

The Last Word: Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: Burn with Laughter

Prologue [Coming Soon] | Next Chapter

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Pairing: Fives/OFC

Series Summary: War makes victims of everyone. This is something Mal knows too well. An enlisted civilian medic with the GAR, she's been able to rebuild with her chosen family, the Wolfpack, and she's found some semblance of peace in a shattered galaxy. But a request from the famous Captain Rex and a night out at 79's sends her world spiraling as she transfers from the 104th to the 501st and dives back into a search for answers that she had abandoned a long time ago.

Mal’s new battalion is in the midst of a struggle of its own, having recently survived the horrors of Umbara. The cruelty of a broken Jedi has eroded the fabric of this close-knit group and left behind scars that are hard to heal. ARC Trooper Fives will do anything to protect his vode, and he's not sure if this new addition can be trusted.

Mal and Fives' struggle to save those they care about comes together in unexpected ways, and they find themselves thrust together in a battle for the future of a galaxy far, far away.

Chapter Summary: After a night out at 79′s, both Mal and Fives have to grapple with their decisions... and any feelings that remain.

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, Mentions of sex, Both characters made impaired decisions

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: Dark Bird by Jake Wesley Rogers (St. Lucia Remix)

A/N: We’re finally here! I’ve spent the last few months obsessing over this series and this man, and I finally feel good enough about it to put my first chapter out into the world. Thank you so so so much to the incredible writer/friend/human @twistedstitcher27 for beta reading! You’re an angel, and your encouragement means the world :) I’ve tagged a few people who showed interest in the preview post but please join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters so I’m not tagging people who don’t want to be tagged! I’m hoping to update every couple of weeks.

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The green canopy of Takodana’s forests hung low in the rain. The heavy cascade thrummed against the leaves, plummeting from great heights to splash off of Mal. The falling water landed on her arms, her legs, and even rolled down her forehead in large, fat drops that soaked her to the bone. But the steady stream barely registered in her mind.

She was here again.

Mal was locked in her body, just as she had been on the day that it happened. She couldn’t move. She stared into two matching pairs of green eyes, begging them to run. Begging for it to be different this time. Still, the order came, as it always did.

“Fire!”

Mal tried to scream. Nothing came out. She tried to fight. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t change what had happened. Not even in her dreams. Mal raised the blaster and aimed.

The morning sun crept across the studio apartment, ready for vengeance. It reached out with gloating first rays to prod its unwitting victim. Mal was already tossing in an uneasy slumber when the intrusion woke her. She tugged the blanket over her head to escape the sudden onslaught of light, but a quiet groan left her parched throat as she realized there was no hiding. Even though sleep was just starting to leave her body, Mal’s temples were already throbbing, an unfriendly reminder that forgetting to close the curtains had been the least of her previous evening’s offenses. With an inner voice that grew louder and louder, she started to curse the woman she had been the night before.

As she lazed in bed for a moment, the sheet still pulled over her head, visions of the previous night’s celebrations returned one by one. 79’s. The Wolfpack. Her goodbye party. The 104th had come together to send her off and did so with their usual brand of organized chaos. There were fuzzy memories of Sinker buying rounds and rounds of spotchka, Boost trying to drag her to the dancefloor every few songs, and she quietly choked as she remembered a foolish moment where she had challenged the Commander to an arm-wrestling contest. Mal wriggled her shoulder and was almost surprised to find everything intact. Wolffe must have gone easy on her.

A first, she snorted with a slight smirk.

Not tearing her rotator cuff was the closest that Commander Wolffe would get to being sentimental about Mal’s transfer, but she would take it for the compliment it was. She kept stretching small muscles in her body as she pieced together the rest of the night’s puzzle, the edges frayed by sleep and drink. At least, she thought as she searched for an upside to her current condition; she didn’t have to report to her new posting until the afternoon. There was still plenty of time to sweat out this hangover and put a blurry night behind her.

Then, one memory struck her, clear and sharp as a bolt of lightning. Mal shot up in bed, spinning to look over her shoulder. In those slowed nanoseconds before she turned, Mal realized she knew exactly what would be there but still prayed that she was wrong.

She wasn’t. A naked man lay beside her with the pale green sheets tossed carelessly over his bare, tan form. The soft morning light glowed golden around him. Memories came back in swelling, unstoppable waves now. They were more than pleasant, brimming with laughter, smiles, and moans. Yet, Mal’s heart began to race, and dread rose from her stomach up to her throat as she traced her way up his sleeping form. Sheer panic finally set in when her eyes fell on his face. He was a clone.

Fuck.

Mal scrambled out of bed, immediately tangling herself in the sheets and plunging to the floor, the durasteel chilly as it smacked against her bare skin. She was naked, she realized, but this new fact didn’t slow her flight. In a moment, she righted herself, fleeing to the fresher though a haze of alarm and sleep that hadn’t quite worn off.

Mal slammed her palm against the fresher door. The hydraulics moved at their usual speed, but every second was a lifetime. Finally, she could slip through the just barely big enough gap. Mal pinned herself to the wall as the door slid shut again behind her. She quickly locked the door after it sealed as if a sheet of durasteel could protect her from her bad decisions. She threw herself over the sink, flipping on the water before gripping the bowl’s edges.

After letting the water run for a moment, Mal cupped her hands under the sink, collecting a pool in her palms. She closed her eyes and splashed the water onto her face with a quick flick of her hands. As soon as the cool liquid met her skin, she sighed.

Mal let the water run down her face and along her neck in gentle, forgiving paths for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and snapped to the mirror. She glared at the woman staring back at her, loose red hair flying in every direction and green eyes ringed by smeared make-up. She knew better than to sleep with a clone. Mechanics and techs were okay, and, Maker, there was a whole planet of men out there who weren’t in the GAR. No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. Those were the rules of engagement.

Amal Darroch, you grade-A idiot, she grumbled to herself as she scowled at her reflection. Kriff a senator next time.

Mal closed her eyes again, raising her hands to rub her pounding temples with her thumbs. The pressure began to soothe her headache. Next, she turned her attention to her breathing.

In.

She let her mind follow the meandering crystal trail of water that still trickled along her chest.

Out.

Her breathing slowed. There was no reason to panic. She had made a mistake, but it would be okay.

Even as Mal tried to tell herself that, dread still roiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew all of the reasons that sleeping with a clone was a mistake. She was a civilian medic for the GAR, after all. She had served alongside the clones for almost two years now. They were her patients, her coworkers, and, more than anything else, her friends. The 104th was the closest she had to a family. Sleeping with one of their brothers was a line she never wanted to cross.

Then there was the position that the clones found themselves in, trapped in service to a Republic that often saw them as little more than cannon fodder. She knew what it was like to be seen as a pawn, and her privilege as a citizen was something she didn’t take lightly. And then, of course, tied into all of the other reasons, there was Tye. That was still too sore to touch, but it was there, floating lazily at the top of a deep well of memories long submerged.

In. Out.

It would be okay. It had to be. Mal tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

What was his name again? She wondered, peering through at the memories to see if she could pick out any details.

One by one, they came back to her as her headache slowly faded. She had been leaving the restroom when another clone, a shiny she figured from the quick glance she had gotten at his armor, had approached her with a little too much enthusiasm and far too much liquor in his system.

“Hey there, gorge-” He started, his words slurring as drink sloshed out of his glass.

Mal cursed as the brown, sticky liquor met the green silk of her dress. Before she could look up, the trooper’s feet disappeared, and he darted into the crowd. Frowning at the crowd that had swallowed up the poor shiny, Mal called out an apology that missed the ears of the retreating clone. She had overreacted… again. But this was her one nice dress, and she had only pulled it out of her closet because she lost that bet with Sinker.

She sighed. Nice going. With the familiar feeling of guilt settling in her brow, Mal looked around to find a small napkin left on a nearby booth. She sat down as she attempted to wipe at the spreading stain, but the fabric quickly fell apart in her hands. She cursed again.

“Need one of these?”

A clone, his face unmistakable even though he was in civilian clothes, appeared before her. Did he have a face tattoo? Mal strained at the memory. He had brought a towel and a glass of fresh water, sliding into the booth across from her. He apologized for his brother and made her laugh as he shared his own worst pick-up line from his days as a shiny.

“You must be from Coruscant.” He flashed a wide sideways grin, his soft brown eyes twinkling in the neon light.

“What makes you say that?” Mal remembered asking as she smiled up at him. He was wrong, but she was curious about where this was going.

“Because I was searching for love in Alderaan places before you.”

Mal’s jaw fell open before she began to cackle, her whole body shaking at his terrible pick-up line. The clone’s grin never faltered as he laughed, both at himself and at her reaction.

“That’s the worse line I’ve ever heard.” She finally pulled herself together enough to speak. “Has it ever worked?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep trying.” The clone chuckled to himself again before he stood and held out a hand. “Now, what would you say to a dance? It’ll help your dress dry.”

“Now that’s actually the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Mal raised an eyebrow, considering the clone’s outstretched hand for a moment.

“Did it work?” His grin crept out a little bit wider.

As an answer, Mal reached out and claspered his rough palm with her own. She laughed again and then, as he had led her to the dance floor, found she never stopped laughing. As the night wore on, it was as though she’d been strapped to a speeder, along for a ride with this wild pilot. His boldness permeated everything he did. She’d never met someone more comfortable in their own skin.

Transported away from her hangover and her bathroom and back to 79’s, Mal recalled how she had moved with him to the music and the jokes they had shared, lips pressed to ears on the thunderous dance floor. He had pulled a wildness out of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Last night, the heaviness of the war and the tragedies that came with it were gone, and there was only this man. Whether he was sweeping her off her feet on the dance floor or charmingly antagonizing the poor cabbie that brought them home, the world around them was a blur, and the only thing in focus was him.

Then there was the sex. The more Mal tugged at the memories of the night before, the more she remembered just how great the sex had been. Strong hands coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her, those same hands on her hips as pleasure entered her from behind, her touch on his rippling core as she rode him, soft kisses, hungry kisses, and eventually, being pulled into strong arms as they both collapsed in perfect, exhausted bliss.

She still couldn’t remember his kriffing name, though.

Mal took another slow, measured breath as she dried her face with the hand towel. Name or no name, it was time to go out and face this man. It will be okay, she reminded herself again. She could come up with plenty of reasons not to give him her commlink, and there were millions of clones in the GAR. What were the chances she would ever run into this one man again? Mal frowned as she realized that the dread was gone, and instead, an odd ache formed in her chest at the thought.

She brushed the ache aside and all of the memories along with it. There were other problems to worry about. To begin with, she was still naked. Luckily, a sleeveless top, a binder, and compression shorts hung next to the shower from her run yesterday. She quickly pulled them on. With a sigh, she glanced in the mirror one more time. She made one last swipe under her eyes to wipe away the smudged makeup, and then she was ready to face him.

Mal stepped out of the fresher with a tight chest that bordered more on regret now than dread. Regret for what, she wasn’t willing to consider. But, as she glanced around the corners of her small apartment, she was alone. The man was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, loud enough to distract her from the unexpected ache in her heart.

Then he stood up. The clone rose from the ground behind her bed. Mal jumped backward, letting out a cry at his sudden appearance.

“Sorry, sorry!” He waved his hands in innocence, one of them clutching a boot that he held out towards her in explanation. “Just looking for this guy. Got away from me last night.”

“Oh, no problem!” Mal attempted her most casual tone, although she still clutched at her chest, and her heart was pounding furiously.

The clone was clothed now in vaguely familiar dark pants and a white shirt that hung close to his chest. Despite Mal’s best efforts, she found her eyes tracing over him, admiring the man. He was good-looking, born with the same handsome profile as his brothers. He must have been military or at least ground crew, she guessed, taking in his broad, rugged form. He kept his curly hair closely cropped, just a bit longer than regulation, but it was enough to give him bedhead this morning. A dark goatee cut along his sharp jaw, and a smile danced on his full lips with joy that was reflected in his deep brown eyes. Just above his dark brow, a small “5” was tattooed on his temple.

Five. Fives.

That’s right, Mal remembered. Fives.

She locked eyes with him, and a flash of a memory of those honeyed pools staring up at her from between her legs made her toes curl.

“So, uh, wild night.” He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his empty hand along the back of his neck, ducking his head just a little as she guessed he had some similar flashbacks. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

His look was earnest, and Mal smiled back at him against her better judgment. Fives was as disarming this morning as he had been last night.

“Definitely,” Mal nodded.

She winced as she realized what she had said. It was bad enough that she had broken her rule, but now she was flirting with him again. She wanted to be cold. Mal wanted to make this goodbye painless and quick. But something inside her pushed back. Something wanted to pull Fives back to bed, give him her comm, and beg him for an actual date.

You deserve to be happy.

A familiar voice whispered in the back of her head. The echo was enough to snap her back to reality. No clones. No relationships. One night and she was already losing focus. Seemingly oblivious to the thundering internal dialogue reverberating through her already-pounding head, Fives dropped behind the bed again. This time, he sank to one knee to pull on his last boot.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass.” He kept chatting as he tugged on the straps. “It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

His voice was affectionate as he spoke of his Captain, and Mal relaxed a bit, thinking of her own squad. Fives rose again, fully dressed. With purpose, he stepped around the bed and towards Mal. Her breath caught in her throat at the movement. She froze, afraid of what her body might do if she let it. He stood over her, his wide figure towering above hers. He looked her up and down with a smile that brought a blush to her cheeks. Then Fives let out a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for everything.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle. He swooped down and pressed a soft kiss against Mal’s cheek, his goatee gently tickling the place where it grazed her jawline. Before she could even register the moment, he spun around and made his way to the door. With that unspoken goodbye, Fives was gone.

That was easy, she thought, but she didn’t move as she stared at the sealed door with a frown on her face and a chest still tense with regret.

Fives threw an arm around Tup as he pointed across the bar.

“Her. I want to go home with her.”

“Good luck,” Jesse laughed, his eyebrows wrinkling as he glanced at his vod’s target, or more accurately, the clone sitting next to the woman in question. “Looks like you’ll have to fight your way through Wolffe.”

Fives blew a raspberry in dismissal. Jesse let out another chuckle as Kix caught his eye. The medic tilted his head at Jesse, who nodded back to him. Oblivious to their plotting, Fives brought himself down to his elbows to lean on the bar and gawk across the way. While Fives was distracted, Jesse reached for the full drink in front of the boisterous clone, and with a carefully trained hand, he slid it down the bar to Kix.

“Hey, where’d my drink go?” Fives frowned as he looked around.

Kix shrugged, shooting a smug smile at Tup and Jesse over the top of a fresh glass of Corellian whiskey he was now sipping on.

“Ahh, kriff it. I need to piss.” Fives declared before he launched himself away from the bar.

“Should someone go with him?” Tup watched with vague concern as Fives meandered away from them and into the crowd.

“Sometimes you just have to release him into the night and hope he comes home in one piece.” Kix waved off Tup’s worry, still enjoying his new drink.

“Maybe he’ll find Coric. That di’kut went to the bathroom hours ago.” Jesse pointed out.

The night came back in bits and pieces to the slowly waking clone.

Fives had found his way to the fresher, the space from the bar and the mission to relieve himself, giving him some time to focus his whiskey-addled brain. He stood by the sink for a moment, letting himself sober up. Through the mirror, graffiti on the wall caught his eye, and he spun to get a better look at it. It was a quickly scribbled Teyrian mesa goat with large words next to it; Fives’ sister.

Kark you, Jesse. He frowned before he took a recording of the art and sent the holo to the obvious offender over his comm.

We’re brothers, you shabuir.

Fives typed into the small machine. He tried to scratch at the drawing to see if it would peel off with just his fingernails, but it didn’t budge. Fives let out a small huff in defeat before he turned for the door.

When he finally stepped from the fresher, Fives was torn between returning to his vode or trying his luck on the dance floor. His brothers often accused him of being a charmer, and they weren’t entirely wrong. He liked flirting with the women and sometimes the men that came into 79’s. There was no risk of anything serious, relationship or otherwise. No talk of the war, no hushed whispers about Echo, and right now, no mention of that ori’dush Jedi. As much as he loved his vode, other company was a welcome break.

He was weighing his options when, like a vision, she appeared before him. It was her, the girl he had made his mark from the moment he had spotted her stunning form from across the bar. Wearing a silky emerald dress that clung to her gentle curves and stopped at her knees, and with long hair that fell over strong shoulders in loose red curls, she was unmistakable. She was alone now, weaving her way through the crowd without Wolffe at her side to fend off any suitors. Fives couldn’t believe his luck. This was his shot, and like a good ARC Trooper, he wasn’t going to miss.

Fives knew all the lines he would have used on her as a shiny. Hey baby, come here often? Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink. Those lines had done their job, more often than not. Still, he’d learned over the years that his greatest talent, aside from being a honed and rather creative droid-killing machine, was making people laugh, and that usually worked best.

Before he could make his move, a young clone stepped into his line of site. The young man swayed as he walked, but Fives had to hand it to him; he kept his eyes on his target. Maybe too well.

Soon, the soldier’s drink was down the front of the girl’s dress, and Fives watched with a bemused smile as the poor shiny realized he was in way over his head and quickly tore back into the crowd. The woman looked up after the shiny, and Fives was impressed to see an unheard apology fall from her lips before she turned back to her ruined dress. With all thoughts of chasing after her aside, he went to the bar and came back with a glass of water and a rag to offer her the help that his younger, stupider vod didn’t.

By the time she invited him back to her apartment, Fives’ head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. It was entirely her fault. Amal. Mal. Her name was a song clearer than any he’d heard before. She was gorgeous and funny, keeping up with his ridiculous jokes and bold choice of fun at every turn. The cabbie was ready to kick both of them out by the time the speeder had reached her corner. The weequay didn’t find the fact that she and Fives had taken to narrating his driving like announcers at a podrace as amusing as they did.

They both stumbled from the cab, doubled over, and wrecked with laughter. Fives swore he nearly broke a rub when, before the cabbie could take off, she ran to the front bumper of the air taxi, pulled the dark scarf from her shoulders, and waved it like a starting flag. The cabbie flew away, swearing. Unbothered, Mal blew the weequay a parting kiss.

“For good luck.” She grinned as she skipped back to Fives.

He quickly pulled Mal into him. A feeling of enchantment overcame him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, the city light dancing like stars in her glassy, green eyes. He spun her for a moment, sending them both in a circle just so he could pull one more gleeful laugh from her. Then he raised a hand to Mal’s face and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

Now, as he woke in the vaguely familiar bed, Fives groaned and stretched. He could hear her in the bathroom. The sound of the fresher door had pulled him from sleep, and the rush of the sink had prodded him to wake. Fives rolled himself over in bed and onto his stomach, stretching into the empty space beside him, still warm from her form. Her scent, a spicy-sweet vanilla, lingered on the sheets, and a longing sigh escaped him. Something about her presence in the fresher, the running water, and the soft morning light made his heart clench. He could almost imagine other mornings waking up here, other mornings where he could gather her back into his arms and convince her to go back to sleep, or mornings where he could try his hand at cooking and surprise her with breakfast.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives frowned into the soft dusty green fabric. He pushed himself up on his forearms. It was time to go. He started by gathering his clothes. They were strewn about the studio from the whirlwind of their entrance last night. As he pulled on his pants, he looked around the place Mal called home.

The first thing that caught his eye was the kitchen. Sitting kitty-corner to the bed, a tall wood bar separated the kitchen from her living space. It was the only table she had, and it looked a little dusty. Behind it, the kitchen was empty. A few spices and a couple of pans sat on the dark, open-faced shelves mounted on forest green walls. Otherwise, there was nothing.

A waste, Fives snorted. Nat-borns never appreciated the comforts.

There were two doors along the same far wall as the kitchen. One was a blast door that Fives knew he had entered last night, and the other, he assumed from the sounds of running water, was the fresher. The bed was tucked in the corner of the room, next to a window with crooked curtains, as if someone had tried and failed to close them. On his side of the bed, there was still enough space between the window and the bedframe for a small table and lamp. There, he found that someone- her, if he remembered correctly - had deposited his shirt last night. Opposite the bed, a comfortable and worn brown chair was covered in blankets and a few books, turned down with their pages open as if someone was saving their spot. The rest of the room was lined with more dark shelves covered in more books and countless plants of all sizes and colors. He chuckled a little as he pulled his shirt on. She must like to take care of things. How sweet.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives felt the warning pop up again. Time to pack up. He straightened his shirt and reached for his boots, only to find one missing.

He didn’t hear her come out of the fresher. He was busy grinning victoriously at the erstwhile shoe he had pried out from under the bed. It wasn’t until he heard a sudden cry of surprise that he realized she was there. He snapped his head up to find Mal standing on the other side of the bed, her mouth open and a hand clutched to her chest.

“Sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized, throwing the boot out in front of him in explanation.

“No problem!” She squeaked.

Fives couldn’t help but grin a little wider. She was trying to act natural, but her breathlessness from the scare still lingered. Then, a memory of her on her back, even more breathless as she writhed on his tongue, came back to him in a flash. Heat spread across his cheeks, and a hand shot up to the back of his neck, which he quickly rubbed as if he could erase the memory from his mind’s eye.

“So, wild night.” Fives chuckled at himself. He felt like a shiny again. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

He watched as she relaxed and met his smile with one of her own.

“Definitely.”

His stomach flipped. Mal was as gorgeous as he remembered, standing there with her wavy red hair draped over her ivory shoulders. Toned arms peaked out from a sleeveless top, and black compression shorts hugged the curves of her hips. Fives had half a mind to pull her back to bed. He wanted to hold her heaving chest pressed to his and steal the oxygen from her lips. He wanted to kiss each freckle on her face. He wanted to soothe her worried brow.

Her worried brow.

Something was wrong. Fives kept chatting anyway. Echo had always joked that he was the only trooper who could talk more than Kenobi. He could sense her stiffness. It was the pauses between her words and the stillness of her limbs. She laughed, and she smiled, but something was wrong.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass. It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

Fives finally let himself frown as he bent over to pull on his boot. He wondered if she knew what was coming. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt Mal. They’d had a great time together, and maybe if things were different, this could end differently, but he never asked for comm links anymore. Some of his brothers had lovers that waited for them. They snuck off to dark corners of the Venators to call home and whisper sweet words of love while their other halves told them how much they were missed. Fives didn’t see the point. Jesse, all high and mighty in his relationship, tried to argue with him, saying Fives would understand when he fell in love, but he didn’t think that was likely. Having someone at home meant making promises you didn’t know if you could keep, like coming home at all.

When he stood, Fives was surprised to see that she had relaxed. Whatever was wrong must have been chased from her mind. He stepped around the bed and paused before Mal for a second, taking her in one last time. He breathed a little deeper. She still smelled like vanilla. She pulled him in like a magnet as Fives leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. His lips grazed her soft skin as his breath quickened. He could see her own lips fall softly open at his touch, and every impulse in him wanted to taste her one more time.

He spun for the door before he could be reckless, breathing out a hurried thank you as he rushed to put space between her and him. Fives pushed aside any thoughts of other mornings, of how her legs had felt wrapped around his waist, or of her shining, spirited laugh. It was time to go. Jesse only could (and would) cover for him for so long.

He stepped out Mal’s front door into a narrow, dark stairwell that led from the entrance of her apartment to a back alley behind a bar below. The acrid smell of the dank crevasse between buildings hit him right away as he descended into the small corridor. He rounded the corner, pausing by the establishment to blink in the sudden sunlight. The divey joint looked just as seedy in the daylight as it had the night before. He frowned for a moment, thinking of Mal living above a place like that, before he shook himself of concern. He had said his goodbyes. A war was going on, and it was time to get back to work. He just had to find his way back to the barracks first.

Where the kriff was he? He wondered as he looked around. Come on ARC, use your head.

He glanced at the time mark on his comm and then looked up at the sun. He turned his attention to the city around him, searching for the level markings notched in the corner of each block of Coruscant. Finally, he examined the way the shadows fell from the buildings. A wave of relief washed over him. He was closer to the barracks than he expected. He might even make it back with time for a shower before the likely chewing-out from Rex.

Fives broke into a jog. He’d run every day since he was a cadet. It was easier on Kamino, with its long winding halls, but he still made time, even if it was just circling the barracks while on distant planets. It drove Echo crazy. His twin would throw pillows at him during tough campaigns, groaning at him to “Cut the shit.” Fives never did, though.

Despite still feeling a little groggy and the fact that he was wearing his one set of civics, it was a nice morning for a run. The sun was just hitting Coruscant’s midlevels, and the thought of a shower before roll call put an extra spring in his step. As his feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground, he focused on the mantra he always repeated as he ran.

Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy, 99, Echo, Hardcase.

The name at the end was new, and it still felt weird and heavy on his heart, but he repeated the names again and again. He wasn’t ever going to forget them. He wouldn’t ever let them be just a number.

tentative taglist: @twistedstitcher27, @baba-fett, @thefact0rygirl, @writingbylee, @wizardofrozz, @wild-karrde, @xopancakeox , @padmeromanoffs, @lunaastars, @shellshooked, @obi-wansorrow, @misogirl828 and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 years ago

Text

The Betrayal

Summary: The war ended but now you have deal with a trauma you weren’t expecting. (Wolffe x reader)

A/N: Hello Lovelies

This came to me after learning a sad news about a friend of a friend. It’s never easy dealing with betrayal. Quick pause, I just want to clarify Wolffe is not the betrayer, here. Okay, continuing on, I wrote this with a specific person in mind, so it might be a little character heavy. If this has happened to you, I am truly sorry, and I hope this story brings you some comfort. Just know that after the pain, starts the healing and eventually each day gets better.

Thank you @firstofficerwiggles for being my beta reader, you’re awesome bestie!

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Pain, grief, mentions of drinking, marital betrayal, violence (mild), fluff, angst, I think that’s all of it, if I miss any please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 5,801 |

One Shot Master List | Main Master List

You just had to get through tonight, that’s it, just get through the next few hours of celebrating the end of the war, and then you could go home and cry your eyes out. Just keep up the happy face. Smile, nod, joke, repeat.

I should have known something was up, the way they pulled away from me, the way they kept coming up with excuses to spend time anywhere but with me, however I didn’t want to believe it, how could I? How could I believe that my husband, the one I dedicated myself to, the one I loved unconditionally would have turned his back on me.

Was I not enough? Not pretty enough? Not adventurous enough? Was it something about my skin? My eyes? Maybe it was my hair? Maybe I wasn’t funny enough? Not kind enough?

“Hey” I turned to look at Sinker, his face was full of concern, “you okay?”

“Yeah” I gave him my best fake smile, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sure?” Sinker looked as though he didn’t fully believe me, but took my nod as an answer and focused back on the table. We were all drinking, all laughing, joking, but I wasn’t really listening.

“Anyone want a refill?” I asked, to the table, a few of the guys raised their hands, I nodded, taking their order and headed to the bar. I motioned to the droid behind the bar, gave our order as quickly as possible, I was focused on my hands remembering what just happened hours ago, when we landed.

“Honey, I’m home” I noticed his shoes by the door, I couldn’t help the smile that graced my lips. Thinking I’d never have to leave his side again, I was home and this was it. We could start our lives.

“Did you hear?” I asked as I left my bag by the door, it still felt weird, even after all these years calling his place, our place, especially since oftentimes I was on the Triumphant with the 104th. I walked further into the apartment. “Turns out Chancellor Palpatine was behind the whole thing” I continued talking, despite the nagging feeling in the back of my head, “Fox apparently found out evidence, and turned it into the Jedi, isn’t that great! All our plans …” my voice caught in my throat at the scene that was before, it took me a minute to understand the motions I was seeing belonged to my spouse and his co-worker.

They just sat there looking at me, “Babe …” silence permeated every inch of the apartment, suffocating me, choking me, “you’re home sooner than I thought?”

“How … how …” were the only words that came out, as tears began to prick my eyes. He got up from the bed, donning a pair of pants, he walked towards me, I took a step back. Until my eyes locked on their co-worker’s, I don’t know what came over me I lunged for his coworker, ready to scratch out their eyes, I’m not sure who screamed, whether it was them, him, or me, all I know is he grabbed me by the waist dragging me away from the bedroom, closing the door behind us. I turned to face him, my fists pounding on his chest, tears streaming down my face, “How could you! Why? WHY!”

“I’m sorry!” Is all he said, as he held me, trying to prevent me from hurting him.

“WHY!?”

“Really!” He finally stated, as he pushed me onto the chair in the living room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re never here! When you are, it’s for two weeks, maybe a month and then you’re off again, with your boys”

“What!”

“Come on, you care more about those clones than about me!”

“That’s not true. They’re my men, I look after them when they’re sick, when they’re injured. But I’m married to you! There’s no one … and even if I did it doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“Agree to disagree”

“I …” my anger grew, it boiled within me, I wanted to punch him, kick him. He stood running his hands through his hair.

“Listen let me get rid of them, and then you and I can talk”

I didn’t say anything, just sat on the chair and watched as he stood heading towards the bedroom.

“You ever gonna bring those back over?” Wolffe’s gruff voice was unmistakable, as he came and stood beside me. I discreetly wiped the tears as I turned to look at him.

“Sorry, guess I’m just tired”

“Surprised you’re not home, thought you’d be celebrating with your husband” Wolffe watched your every move, he noticed something was off about you. Then again he always noticed everything about you, you’d been the apple of his eye ever since you walked on to the Triumphant. When you mentioned you were married, it broke him, he was miserable for weeks, but in the end he’d rather be in your life than not at all.

“He understood. Said that we had all the time to celebrate just the two of us, so why not spend tonight with my men.” I focused back on the drink in my hand.

“Wolffe, you said you were going to bring us the drinks” Sinker stated, he grabbed the tray that had the refills and brought it to the booth.

I watched as Sinker walked away. Wolffe stayed beside me, his eyes were examining every inch of my face. “Wanna get some air?” I shrugged, Wolffe nodded and guided me outside, his hand hovered over my lower back but never rested against it as he moved us through the crowd. The cold air hit my face like a punch, the tears began pricking against my eyes again. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on?”

I turned to look at Wolffe as we walked over to the fence that kept the civilians safe from the speeder-way “Nothing’s going on, Wolffe”

“Sinker, may be dumb enough or drunk enough to accept your lies, but mesh’la I know you. I know you a lot better than you think I do, and I know you are doing your best to keep a brave front, doing your best to keep from crying, no matter how hard you try, I can tell.”

“Wolffe,” my voice pleaded. I didn’t want to talk about this. I closed my eyes trying to keep my sadness locked in, this was supposed to be a night of celebration, not sadness.

“Mesh’la” Wolffe pressed his hand against my back, “talk to me, it breaks my heart to see you like this, what happened? I know something has been going on with you for the past few months, you’ve been sad for weeks. There’s been a cloud hanging over you and I’ve tried to just be there for you, but this … it’s like the darkness seeped into you tonight. Allow me to carry some of that darkness for you, mesh’la.” I couldn’t help looking at Wolffe, his eyes, his stance, everything pleaded with me, “After all, why do you think I have such broad shoulders? It’s not just to add to my rugged handsomeness” I couldn’t help chuckling as I wiped another tear, but that only led to a full breakdown. Wolffe wrapped me in a hug, pressing me against him, carrying me practically.

“Mesh’la talk to me, what happened?” Wolffe’s mind raced to various scenarios, as far as he knew your husband didn’t have a dangerous job, he wasn’t ill. Did something happen to one of your other family members? Maybe one of your siblings?

“When I … home … saw … right there …”

Wolffe did understand anything, you said in between the sobs. He bit his bottom lip, “I’m sorry, mesh’la, I want to say I understood, but I got maybe every other word”

I couldn’t help chuckle into his chest. I pulled away from his arms, running my hands through my hair. I motioned for him to follow me to the bench down the street. I took a moment to breathe before I told him what was waiting for me when I got home. I noticed Wolffe’s hand clenched against his knees as my story progressed.

“I should’ve known something was up. I kept having this nagging feeling in the back of my head, for months, every time we were on leave, or I had to extend my leave, he just … he kept pushing me away. Telling me he was tired, that work was difficult, but the truth is he just - - he doesn’t …” my voice began to break again, I cleared my throat, focusing on my hands. “He said it was my fault”

“He said what?” Wolffe growled, turning to look at you.

“He said that I spent too much time with you guys, that I never got a long enough leave …”

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe grabbed your hand, it was gentle, more gentle than he ever imagined possible he could be, “no. No. Nothing you did would even come close to justifying what he did.”

“I know. In my head, I know that, in fact I told him that, but it's just …”

Wolffe’s anger was building, how dare this man … Wolffe resolved within himself he was going to pay this man a visit. “Where are you staying?”

“With my sister, I can’t … after seeing it, after knowing how many countless times they spent together in our bed … I just …”

“Let me take you to your sister’s, make sure you get there okay, please mesh’la”

I nodded, as he helped me off the bench, we walked in silence till we took an air taxi to her place.

Wolffe watched as you walked into your sister’s building, he was angry, beyond angry, how dare the person you've dedicated yourself to treat you this way, how dare he … all Wolffe wanted was to pull you into his arms again, keeping you safe, keeping you from feeling the hurt you were currently feeling, the betrayal.

He took his time walking back to 79’s, it probably would’ve been faster to take the airtaxi back, but he needed the air, needed the time. He would need to find out where he worked, maybe the war was over, but he had one last mission, to hurt the man who hurt you.

“Wolffe?” Sinker watched as his vod came back into 79’s, he looked angry, properly angry. He hadn’t seen him this angry since Khorm.

“What?”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, just for a walk”

“Long walk, did something happen, you seem pissed”

Wolffe wanted to tell Sinker what happened, what you told him, but it wasn’t his place. “Just thinking about what this will mean for us, the end of the war.”

“Maybe you can tell her how you feel, I mean I know she’s married but … you never know.”

“I won’t do that to her” Wolffe let out quietly, “I won’t hurt her like that; we’re friends and I’d rather be her friend than nothing.” Even id your husband didn't appreciate what he had with you, Wolffe wasn't ready to add to your hurt. You didn't deserve that “Listen, I’m gonna …” Wolffe scrubbed his face, “I’m going to head to the barracks”

“Already?”

“Yeah, I just … I’m just tired”

“Where is she?”

“She went home”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” Sinker nodded, probably why Wolffe didn’t want to stick around knowing you had gone home to your husband. Sinker met the guy once and he never fully understood what you saw in him, the man was a jerk, some of the things he said to you, even how he looked at other women when you weren’t paying attention or had walked away to the refresher, it sickened him, but at the end of the day you loved him, and more importantly you trusted him, so he just bit his tongue. Sinker watched as Wolffe exited the club, despite the glaringly obvious there was something else going on with him.

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

Wolffe spent three days stalking his prey once he learned where he worked, he followed the di’kut everywhere, to work, to his home, even to his lover’s home where he spent all of four minutes in the bedroom; Wolffe sniggered, what did this man have that made you want to commit to him.

He watched as he walked down the street, the man looked so smug, as though he was the greatest thing that had ever graced this known universe. Wolffe waited, his prey was near, he could almost smell the horrendous odour of the man’s cologne. Wolffe’s hood kept from his view, the cloak and mask he had on definitely hid his face and who he was - despite what might happen, he didn’t want you to get into trouble or have to deal with the man’s ego.

Just a few more minutes … Wolffe reached out to grab his prey, it was quick as he threw him against the wall.

“Get off!” Wolffe didn’t respond simply punching the man in his stomach. “Take it” he offered quietly and shakily, as he gave over his wallet, Wolffe chuckled as though mere credits could save him, Wolffe landed another hit, this time in the man’s thigh, “What do you want?” He let out as another blow landed in his abdomen.

“Nothing” was all Wolffe said, his modulated voice filling the air, as his knee met the man’s groin, he hit with full force.

“Then why!” His prey fell to his knees guarding his appendage that he clearly valued more than the person who loved him unconditionally.

“Because you had everything, and chose to destroy it, rather than cherish it” Wolffe looked down at his prey, he was quivering as understanding flooded his eyes, “she risked her life for you, she loved you with everything, and it wasn’t enough for you.”

“You’re one of her clones” he spat out, Wolffe sensed his disgust, his jealousy at the word clone, “should've known she would’ve run back crying to your pathetic …” Wolffe didn’t let him finish as his fist hit him square in the jaw knocking the man out cold. He quickly checked to make sure the man was still breathing, and sent out an anonymous call for help. He walked away, dropping the cloak and mask in a nearby incinerator. Hopefully, it won't come back to bite you.

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

“I don’t understand” I looked at the Red Corrie Guards standing at my sister’s door.

“Ma’am it’s a simple question, where were you, between 12:30 and 13:00 hours yesterday”

“With my family”

“No where else?”

“No”

“Do you have an alibi?”

“Yes, my sister and her kids, we spent the day at the Coruscanti Gardens, we have the stubs for the entry and I’m sure you’d be able to find security footage of us. Now, I’m going to ask again, what is this about?”

“Yesterday at approximately 12:30 hours, your husband was attacked.”

“Is he okay?” My concern hit the roof.

"You're concerned?”

“Of course, I am, he may be a loser and lowlife, but he’s still my husband.”

“Ma’am can you think of anyone who may want to hurt your husband?”

“No, of course … not” I thought back to Wolffe’s clenched hands, the anger that radiated off him.

“Ma’am?”

“My husband has been cheating on me with his co-worker, you may want to double check with their spouse. Maybe they found out.”

“Is that why you are staying here?”

“Yes. Now, can I ask if the bastard is going to die?”

“No, ma’am. We received an anonymous call just shortly after the incident, medics were able to render aid quite quickly. When the medics found him, he kept repeating your name. Are you certain you have no idea who may want to cause him bodily harm?”

“Aside from me, no. I’m sorry, and I have an alibi”

“Understood. Thank you for your time, ma’am”

“One quick question, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course”

“Is he still at the hospital?”

“I believe so, ma’am.”

“Thank you”

I watched as the Coruscanti Guards nodded and walked away from Mel’s door. “What was that?”

“The jackass got himself beat up”

“Good. Is he going to live?” She asked as I walked over to my comm.

“Apparently”

“Pity. Are you going to call him?”

I let out a breath, “No. I’m going to go see him.”

“WHAT!”

“Mel”

“Don’t Mel me, after what that man did, after how he hurt you, you’re going to go take care of him.”

“No. I said I’m going to see him, not take care of him. I need to see him.”

“Want me to come with?”

I shook my head, “I got this”

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

My eyes took in the bruised man that lay on the bed, and the stupid trollop who held his hand, my anger fuelled within me at seeing them together, maker how I wanted to scratch their eyes out. I stood at the entrance of the med room.

“Could you give us a minute?” My tone was clipped as I directed my attention to the trollop, my fists clenched by my side.

“I’m not going anywhere, this is all your fault” the trollop had the audacity to comment.

“It’s okay, babe” my heart stung, hearing his pet name for me directed to the trollop, “give us a few minutes. Maybe get yourself a cup of caf”

“Do you want anything babe?”

They were doing this on purpose. “Maybe some water”

“Sure thing” the trollop stood from their seat heading out, before giving me cut-eye all the way out the door. Gods I wanted to smack that perfect face of theirs, mark them on the outside to show the world what kind of trollop they truly were. Silence permeated the room once again.

I watched as his lips set in a tight thin lip, “Couldn’t do it yourself, so you set one of your men on me, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me”

“I have no idea …”

“Oh please, just be honest you probably slept with one of them and got him to attack me”

“You son of …”

“One more step and I press the button for security”

“First off, let me explain something to you, you worm. Unlike you, I don’t need someone to attack you for me, I can do that all on my own. Secondly, if someone - and I highly doubt that someone would - attack you on my behalf, unlike you, people like me for me, and I don’t need to sleep with them. Thirdly, if you got your ass handed to you, that has nothing to do with my guys. They would have killed you and not even thought twice about it.”

“Listen you can try to sound all high and mighty, but I know the truth, you had one of your men do this”

“Exactly what is this?” I motioned to his prone position, “Anything broken?”

“No”

“Internal bleeding?”

“No”

“Brain bleeding, brain swelling, any life-threatening injuries?”

“Obviously not”

“Then exactly what is your issue? Some bruises?”

“Not just bruises”

“So something is broken?”

“No, just … strained” he answered with a clipped tone.

“What’s strained?” He didn’t answer, simply winced when he shifted his lower half, I covered my mouth fighting the chuckle that wanted to erupt, “Oh. I see.”

“You really telling me, you don’t know who could have done this” he motioned to his lower half.

“Honestly, if I knew, I would give them the biggest kiss I could, but no. I have no idea who could’ve done this. Listen, I’m sorry for what happened to you” I took a minute to think about that, “actually, you know what, I’m not. You deserve to have your ass handed to you. You broke my heart. I loved you for years, years I’ve put up with your nonsense. Your ups and downs. I’ve forgiven a lot. I was there with you when things were tough at the beginning, I was there when you lost your father and it nearly broke you. All those nights we spent discussing our future, all those nights we held each other, and … when the war started and I got shifted from the barracks to an actual ship, all of that what … all those plans, all those hopes …” my bottom lip started to quiver, “I was faithful to you. I fought for you, and you …” I shook my head, “I’m going to go clean out my stuff. I really just came here to make sure you were in fact alive, and to tell you goodbye.”

“You’re really leaving?” His eyes looked into mine as though reality hit.

“You broke my heart, and you blamed me for all of it. I’m not saying I’m completely innocent here, or that maybe I couldn't have tried harder, but every time I made an effort you pushed away, you didn’t try. You didn’t even attempt to try. You … you just went and …” I wiped away a tear, “Yes, I’m leaving. I’m gonna get my stuff. I’m going to stay with my sister, they have a room for me.”

“Listen, maybe we can …”

“We, we can’t do anything, not anymore. I close my eyes and I see you … I can’t … when I look at you, that’s all I see now. You tainted everything, everything we built, everything we hoped for, all for what a quick lay? I can’t ever forgive you for that.”

“It wasn’t a quick lay”

“Then what was it?”

“Love. I love them.”

“I see” I nodded, wiping a tear, “Well then all the best, take care of yourself.”

I headed out of the room, “Wait!” I turned to look at him, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean … I did love you, I loved you with all my heart, but it … the war, it changed everything, and you weren’t there. I’m sorry but you weren’t, and they were.”

“Like I said, take care of yourself”

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

I wanted to comm Wolffe, thank him for what he did after all there was only one person I had told from the 104th about what happened, but one day turned into two, then a week, then a month, and before I knew it, a year had gone by without seeing or speaking to Wolffe. I missed him. I saw Sinker from time to time, since he started dating my best friend, he kept me informed of Wolffe, about how he was doing, how all the 104th was doing, however he only offered the bare minimum, not sure if that was due to Wolffe’s request or maybe because he was angry at me for being out of touch with him for so long.

Oftentimes my mind floated back to Wolffe, how he was always there for me, especially when I needed him the most. I just don’t know why he didn’t reach out to me, why he kept his distance.

I sat at the cafe, taking sips of my tea, as I thought about how my life had changed since the end of the war. I was now single. Living in a one bedroom apartment, working on getting my degree for my doctorate to be a full fledged physician, I did my best to push those thoughts aside and focused back on my textbooks.

Wolffe wanted to call you, he wanted to be there for you, but he knew you needed space. Needed to figure yourself out. Maker, how he wanted to be there for you, in fact he showed up once at your sister’s, you were playing with your niece and nephew, he watched you through the window of the common room, you looked happy. He wanted to keep that memory, he wanted to see you always happy. He wished his feet would have carried him to your door, but he ran into your sister, she told him you were handling everything as best as you could, you still had your days, sometimes she woke up to your crying, but you were busy with school getting your doctorate. He was so proud of you, it was a dream of yours to become a doctor, and now you were doing it.

When Wolffe walked into the cafe the last person he expected to see was you, his breath caught in his throat. You looked just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, when he walked you to your sister’s the night of the celebration. He debated for a while what he should do, should he stay or should he go? He watched as you took another sip of your tea but it was empty, he chuckled, you only were able to study if you had tea. He quietly walked up to the counter and ordered another tea for you and his usual hazelnut caf.

With his smoothest of motions, he placed the tea in front of you, the look of shock on your face, was totally worth it.

“Wolffe?” I couldn’t believe my eyes, as he grinned at me, maker, how I missed that grin.

“Hey mesh’la, been a while” Wolffe motioned to the chair beside him, “mind if I sit down?”

“No. Please.” I couldn’t hold back the smile at seeing him, “You look good,” I motioned to all of him, he was in civilian clothing, that really brought out his shoulders and wide chest. He had a full beard growing, and even his hair was a little longer.

“Thank you, mesh’la. You look good too. How’ve you been? How are things?”

“Um … well” I chuckled, “as you can see I’m back in school”

“I heard, getting your doctorate to be a physician, right?”

“Yeah. There’s a special program, because of my years of service with the GAR, and my own medical knowledge as a medic, they shortened the schooling from five years to two and a half. It’s a lot of work, but it’s great.”

“I’m happy for you, that’s what you always wanted. I remember all those conversations we had during the war.”

“Thanks, what about you, what are you doing?”

“Still a Commander, but I’m actually up for a promotion soon.”

“Really, that’s awesome”

“Thanks, I'll be getting my stars and becoming a General by week's end”

“Wolffe that’s amazing, but I thought you wanted to open a bakery”

“Oh, I did”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but I don’t bake, learned that the hard way” Wolffe chuckled, “I almost burned down the kitchen, but I have learned to cook, which I thoroughly enjoy, and being the owner of a bakery is just as fun as being a baker.”

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you, what bakery?”

“This one” Wolffe chuckled, “did the Wolffe symbol on the cups not give it away?”

“Oh my stars!” My hand smacked against my forehead, “Pup cafe, how did … clearly, my brain is fried from all my studying” I chuckled, “no wonder, I love this place, I come here all the time to study, usually after a shift at the hospital.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable here, we aim to make sure everyone feels included.”

“Well you definitely did that; I just saw Sinker a few days ago and he never mentioned you had a bakery.”

“Really, you see Sinker?” Wolffe couldn’t help the feeling of his heart breaking a little, so you had kept in touch with the rest of the squad, just not him, and why hadn't Sinker said anything.

I nodded as I took a sip of the new tea that Wolffe brought me, “Yeah, not all the time though, between studying, working at the hospital, and doing my rounds as a physician, I don’t have a lot of time, but I saw him cause he was picking up Rea, for their date.”

“Oh … so you live with Rea?”

“No, she just happened to be over, and it was easier for him to just get her from my place.”

“Oh, I see,” Wolffe nodded as he took a sip of his caf.

I bit my lip, there was something I wanted to say for the longest time and now the opportunity presented itself, “Wolffe, about …”

“I’m sorry” Wolffe offered before you finished, he loved your confused look, it was like a puppy unsure of what was happening around them, “for not reaching out, after that night. I wanted to …”

“No” I reached forward and held his hand, I was shocked at my reaction, it was as though my hand had a mind of its own, and now that it was there, feeling the warmth coming from his hand, it realized it didn’t want to be anywhere else, “it was my fault. After everything that happened with him, I just … I was embarrassed. I always talked about how amazing he was and how he was someone I could trust implicitly, and … it was my fault. I just couldn’t bear to deal with all the sad looks and pity glances from people, so I pulled away, not just from you, from everyone. If it wasn’t for Rea dating Sinker, I wouldn’t have even been talking to him.”

Wolffe couldn’t help the smirk on his face, as he held your hand, “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, he was the asshat, not you. You never did anything wrong.”

“Maybe, but I probably didn’t help what led to the situation either, at least that’s what I think” as I looked at Wolffe’s eyes, there was so much being said, how he made his cybernetic eye have so much emotion was always beyond me. “There’s something else, I never got a chance to do, because of what happened. I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“I know it was you, Wolffe” I chuckled

“It was me…”

“Who beat him up. I knew it the minute those Coruscanti Guards showed up at my sister’s place. I knew it the minute I saw him lying in that hospital bed.”

“Mesh’la, I’m not sure …”

“Wolffe” I quirked my eyebrow at him, a low chuckle came out of him, as he squeezed my hand.

“Never could get anything past you, could I?”

“Nope. Honestly, it was just what I needed; it gave me the push to leave him. I was dragging my heels for two weeks, and then when they showed up and told me what happened, I knew. Thank you for defending my honour.”

“You’re welcome. He deserved a lot worse, but I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m glad you weren’t caught. I tried to keep tabs on the investigation to make sure you weren’t a prime suspect.”

“I didn’t care about what happened to me, all I cared about was the fact he didn’t appreciate what he had.’

“You might not have cared, but I did. I’ve always cared” I looked from Wolffe to the books in front of me, my hand clutching the cup of tea a little harder.

“That’s what friends are for, I guess. To care for you even when you don’t care about yourself” Wolffe offered, he wanted to know where you were in the grand scheme of things, he wanted to ask you out, but truthfully, his timing clearly sucked, if you were that busy at the hospital.

“True” I swallowed the nerves down, did he only view me as a friend? “What’s new with you? Seeing anyone?” I tried to pull my hand away, but Wolffe wouldn’t let me go.

“No. There’s never been anyone that could hold a candle to you, mesh’la” Wolffe gave up caring, he wasted years pining for you, months keeping his distance, this couldn’t just be a coincidence that you both ran into each other. It had to be the will of the force, as his buir would say.

I felt my face heat as his statement, “Wolffe?” In the back of my head I always suspected he may have had feelings for me, but being married, I made a point never to entertain those thoughts.

“I don’t know what your status is, if you are ready to start dating again, or if you even have the time because of your studies, but mesh’la I have been in love with you since the day you stepped foot on to the Triumphant, and now that we’ve all received the cure for our rapid aging, I have my own business, I’m going to be promoted to General in a few days, I finally feel I am worthy of you. Would you …” Wolffe cleared his throat, “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

Speechless, I was completely without speech at his confession. Since I stepped foot on the Triumphant? That was nearly five years ago now. For five years he was in love with me?

“I know this is probably a lot to take in, and maybe I’m rushing things, but I just … I don’t want to waste a minute. Not seeing you or talking to you this past year has been excruciating and now that you’re here … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Of course, you wouldn’t have feelings for me, I’m an idiot” Wolffe pulled his hand away, what was he thinking!

“Wolffe”

“Mesh’la it’s my fault … I shouldn’t have … we can just be friends, I’d rather …”

“Wolffe”

“No, it’s fine, honestly … I’d rather have you in my life ….”

“Wolffe!” I pleaded for him to listen as I grabbed his hand, holding on to it, trying to soak up the feeling of utter and complete safety. He always offered me, “Yes, I would love to go to dinner with you.”

He didn’t hear you properly, did you just say yes? Wolffe blinked a few times, his face must not have been hiding his shock in any way shape or form, because you started giggling, that sound that always made his heart flutter, “Sorry, could you say that again.”

“Of course, I’d say yes. Wolffe, you were there for me more times than I can count, you’ve always treated me with respect and dignity. All this time that I didn’t see you or talk to you have been absolutely hellish for me too, the only reason, I drown myself with work is because well a - I love it, and b - it kept me from thinking about you. I’ve always admired you Wolffe, and that’s also partly why I tried my best to keep my distance while we were on the ship; because I knew, if I spent more time with you, I’d fall in love with you. I couldn’t betray my husband … ex-husband like that. I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“How about tonight?”

“Rather than wait for tonight, why don’t you walk me to my apartment so I can drop off my textbooks, and we can spend the day together, catching up, talking and just see where things lead”

“I’d love that cyar’ika”

“Me too”

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

Note

Happy Fandom Friday!

I want to shoutout three WIP, OC fics, and a one-shot reader.

A Shattered Peace: (@writteninthesw) Danielle has written such an emotionally tense story between Amara and Wolffe. Both characters are struggling, and their pains are real and raw, and it’s an incredible story with a recent chapter update that left me reeling.

Sweet True Lies: (@sleepingsun501) Within the first three chapters, Erin has created a story that is looking to be both intense and romantically satisfying. Keeda and Fox are so precious, and I’m eagerly awaiting for them to reconnect (and dreading the trauma sure to come).

Unwritten: (@rexxdjarin) Julie has explored depths of emotions that are vulnerable and so relatable. Mari and Rex have a beautiful connection and I’m excited to see how their connection develops amidst the trials of war.

Fireworks: (@imarvelatthestars) I don’t know much about Hound, but this one-shot was so sweet and fun, and now I want to know everything about this man. Anyway, I loved seeing Hound step into training with reader (and his personality), and it was all around a cozy feel.

ALLI THESE ARE ALL SUCH GOOD RECS!!! A Shattered Peace has been on my to-read list FOREVER (I PROMISE I AM GOING TO GET CAUGHT UP ONE DAY, DANIELLE!!). Amara seems like SUCH an awesome OC and I cannot WAIT to learn more about her. I am behind on both STL and Unwritten (notice a trend? I HATE MYSELF I AM SO SORRY), but I am SO VERY INVESTED in both of those stories and the immaculate OCs Erin and Julie have created. And a Hound fic you say??? He's a lesser-written-for character that I always get excited when I find fics for him so THANK YOU for sending each and every one of these in! They are all OUTSTANDING!!!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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enigmaticexplorer · 1 year ago

Text

THE ENDING.

Wolffe’s message 😭

Amara not knowing if [redacted] is alive 😭

A Shattered Peace: Chapter 12

A Bit Like Home

[previous][next]

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x FemJedi!OC Word Count: 5.5K Chapter Rating: T Chapter Summary: Abregado, from Amara's POV. A/N: *Cries in six months since I last posted a chapter* Also available on AO3

Amara stared out the viewport of the Sagacious, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The Four-Fourteen were returning to Coruscant, finally, after a month of back-to-back missions. She should have felt relief, eagerness even. But that feeling, gnawing away at her insides, told Amara that something, somewhere, was very very wrong.

“You’ve run the systems check?”

Beside her, Commander Riv nodded. “Twice now, Sir. Everything’s working as it should.”

“And the scanners?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” In the corner of her eye she saw him turn toward her, but Amara stayed staring at the blue-white rush of hyperspace. “The Four-Fourteen’s fine, General.”

She pursed her lips. “I know.”

And she did. Nothing was wrong with her battalion. They were safe and well and on their way to a much deserved break. But that feeling … she’d never been wrong about that feeling before.

Which could mean only one other thing.

Amara raised her wrist and keyed in a code on her comm. “Comet, this is General Kora. I need you on the bridge.”

*****

Three Weeks Earlier – Somewhere Outside the Ryloth System

“I appreciate your concern, Master Plo, but the Four-Fourteen and I have it handled.”

“Even so, I’ve sen—” the holo in front of Amara flickered in and out, breaking up Plo’s response. “He’ll arrive so—”

“Master Plo?” Amara fiddled with the frequency, trying to get his projection back on the table.

“It’s no use, Sir,” Flame spoke from the control port. “We’ve lost external comms.”

“Excellent.” She glanced around the room. “Anyone have a clue what he was trying to say?”

There was silence for a beat and then, “Not so much what he said, general, but a ship just exited the nearest hyperspace lane. ”

Amara turned to the screen Captain Hall was pointing at, narrowing in on the flashing beacon. “Is that an x-wing, Captain?”

“Yes, Sir, I believe it is.”

She shook her head. Overprotective and meddling men. That’s what the entire 104th was made up of now, she supposed.

“Captain Hall, try to figure out the communications issue and make sure it doesn’t cross over to anything else. I won’t have us completely cut off whenever the Seppies finally decide to make a move.”

“Yes, general.” Hall paused, raised an eyebrow. “Is that the ship I think it is?”

“Yes it is, Captain.” Amara sighed. “I hope we have a spare bunk.”

*****

One of the very first things Master Plo had ever taught Amara after she’d become his Padawan was to never be afraid to accept help. He’d taught her through his own actions, letting her assist him on missions or with tasks that he could have easily done on his own, liaising with other Jedi to solve problems Amara knew for a fact he’d already solved in his head.

She’d questioned him about it once. When he’d let her lead them on a roundabout route across a seemingly barren planet and gotten them into a scuffle with the locals. Plo, gracious as always, set things straight and led them to safety within a standard hour.

“You could have taken over from the start.” She’d pouted, arms crossed and kicking at a patch of grass as they walked. “All my ‘help’ did was cause more trouble.”

“I don’t view it that way. Neither should you.”

Amara stopped in her tracks and stared at him until he turned to face her. “I almost got us killed.”

Plo chuckled. “Far from it, young one. The locals were merely curious. As were we.” He gestured to the area around them. “And now we know more about this planet and these people than we did before. Far more,” he tilted his head, “than we would have if I’d led us directly to our destination.”

Amara let her eyes wonder across the plains around them, pushing down the uneasiness at the way the grass against her calves echoed grass on another planet from long ago. She took in the purple blue sky, suns settling in the distance. It was a beautiful place. Still … “I didn’t plan this.”

Wrinkles appeared around Plo’s mask and she knew he was smiling. “When we accept help, we accept everything that comes with it. Expected and unexpected alike.” He turned to watch the setting suns with her. “How much more pleasant it is to view that with excitement at discovering something new than with trepidation about the unknown.”

As she stood in the hangar bay now, watching a maroon-striped x-wing settle into the space across from her, Amara tried to keep Plo’s words in mind. Help should be welcomed. Even if she didn’t need it.

Even if she strongly suspected Plo was relying on her remembering what he taught her so she wouldn’t be upset that he was being overprotective.

She grit her teeth and waited for the ship door to open.

When it did, and an all too familiar clone stepped out, Amara felt all the anger in her deflate. There were only so many people Plo could have sent that would have guaranteed a less angry response from her, and Comet was top of that list.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still going to demand some answers, though.

She raised her voice to be heard over the hangar clatter. “He sent you before he even made the call, didn’t he?”

Comet took his helmet off, a grimace already visible. “The general or the commander?”

Amara blinked. She had meant Master Plo, but now that Comet mentioned it …

“This was Wolffe’s idea?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You pretty much did, Comet.”

Comet scratched at the back of his neck, squinting over Amara’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, General?”

Amara opened her mouth to get them back on topic, to remind Comet that as happy as she was to see him, she didn’t need a babysitter. But something in the clone’s voice stopped her.

In all her time with the 104th, Comet had always been the calm, lighthearted, happy one of the group. The first to try and put a smile on everyone’s faces. His words just now fit that category, on the surface. But Amara could feel all was not exactly right. Not at all.

She tilted her head, took in the dark circles under Comet’s eyes. The too-thin lines of his mouth trying to smile, but not quite succeeding. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked a few times, not-quite-a-smile wavering for a moment before he pulled himself up straighter. “I’m just here to help, Sir.”

Amara didn’t buy it, not for a second. Especially not when she opened up to the Force and felt something hovering in Comet’s soft yellow aura that she’d never associated with him before: shame and hatred. There was much more at stake than he was letting on.

She stopped in the hallway, and, after glancing at the passing clones, pulled them into a quiet corner. Comet avoided her eyes as she put a hand on his shoulder. “I might not be your commander anymore, Comet. But I still know when something’s wrong.” She waited until he finally looked back at her before continuing. “And I don’t need to be your commander to still care, either. Wolffe sent you for a reason. I’d like to know what that reason is.”

Comet leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “Permission to tell you once we finish this mission?”

Amara peered at him for a moment longer, tempted to remind him that secrets didn’t make for successful missions. She would listen, she would understand. But she remembered something Wolffe had said to her as she’d watched his brothers leave a small pile of helmets on a coral reef on Tibrin, before everything had gone to shit but after they’d already lost too many. She’d wanted to go to them, to share in their grief and comfort them. Wolffe held her back with a hand on her arm and just a few words:

They don’t need you to comfort them. They need you to listen.

So she swallowed back her words, let her hand fall from Comet’s shoulder, and nodded. “Permission granted. Let’s get you up to speed, yeah?”

Comet released another breath and the Force around him lightened, just a bit. “Yes, Sir.”

*****

Despite everyone’s worries, the mission — several tricky supply runs to refugees on the neighboring planets of Ryloth — went off without a hitch. And despite Amara’s concerns, Comet had been immensely helpful. He’d let the reconnaissance skills he was so well known for in the 104th take over during the mission, and if Amara hadn’t known better, she’d have said he was perfectly fine. It didn’t help that working alongside someone she’d trained with for months instead of just a couple of weeks was easy to fall back into.

So easy, that part of her almost wanted to leave it alone. To let Comet do what he wanted so long as it meant a part of the 104th could stay with her. And maybe that’s what Commander Kora, someone who never really had to make final decisions and could rely on others to pick up where she slacked off, would have done.

But that wasn’t what General Kora, responsible for every soldier under her name, could let herself do.

When they entered hyperspace and left Ryloth’s nearest moon far behind, Amara found Comet alone in the training room, staring down a punching bag.

“You know,” she said, walking up to the other side of the bag, “I found Wolffe in exactly this position just before we last left Coruscant. Turns out he had a few things he wanted to say, too.”

“Guess it runs in the genes.” He nodded at the bag and Amara held it steady, bracing for his punches.

“I’ll take your word for it because I’ve given up trying to figure that one out.”

Comet landed his first one-two punch, eyes focused, mouth set in a firm line. Then he landed another. And another. And more until there were no breaks between the sets and Amara was relying on the Force to keep the bag from swinging into her face. She stayed in her position, regardless. Comet had something he needed to work through, and he was allowing her to exist in his space while he figured it out. She’d learned from Wolffe that such a thing wasn’t something she should take for granted.

Finally, when his punches came more slowly and his breathing evened out, Comet spoke.

“The last mission the Wolfpack was on …” he grabbed the bag and looked off to the side, the Force around him tense. “I fucked it up.”

Amara had assumed whatever was bothering him would have come from something like that. She’d looked up the mission report, chest briefly aching at the familiarity of Wolffe’s detailed writing. There had been trouble at the Nexus, a floating trading post on Quarmendy, and Plo had sent the Wolfpack to secure the planet away from Separatist control.

She moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “I read about the mission. Aside from the Nexus being destroyed, it seems like everything was a success. About as good as it gets these days, anyway.”

“Do you know how many people died in that explosion?”

“They weren’t able to gather exact numbers,” she let her hand slide away, “but Wolffe estimated about two dozen in his report.”

Comet nodded and stepped away from the bag, eyes still focused on the far wall. “It was my fault, the explosion. Said the wrong thing to Tambor at the wrong time.” He shook his head. “Those people … their deaths are on my hands. Most of them didn’t even have anything to do with the war.”

“The report didn’t say anything—”

“Yeah,” Comet laughed ruefully, finally looking at her, “Wolffe’s real good at not pointing any fingers. Said it was a ‘collective oversight’ so I wouldn’t risk getting a mark against me.”

Amara hesitated, crossing her arms over her chest and wondering what in the hells she could say to him. The clones were made for war, for battle, for casualties and hard choices. Despite how open Wolffe had been with her — and if she was honest with herself, he hadn’t really been all that open —, most of his brothers were good at hiding what their true feelings about everything might be.

She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of a guilty war-time confession.

She did, however, have some idea of what Comet was feeling. She imagined it wasn’t altogether very different from how she’d felt in the immediate aftermath of Tibrin. No one had been able to explain or excuse her guilt away, and she had a feeling the same would be true for Comet.

So, despite the fact that she knew Wat Tambor would have destroyed the Nexus regardless of what Comet did or didn’t say, Amara focused on something the clone could answer.

“Then why are you here, Comet? Wolffe wouldn’t send you away for something he doesn’t blame you for.”

“Believe me, he didn’t want to.” Comet hesitated, words coming more slowly. “I asked for a break.”

“But a break is—” Amara blinked as the reality of what he’d said settled around her. Anger took over her confusion and she ignored her previous determination to be gentle with him. “What the fuck were you thinking asking for that?”

Comet looked a bit ashamed but at least had the decency to not turn away from her. “Wolffe wasn’t too happy with me either.”

Amara took a moment to calm the rising anger and horror in her chest. Of course Wolffe wouldn’t have been happy. For a clone, ‘taking a break’ wasn’t a respite or a holiday or anything that resulted in some kind of calm. ‘Taking a break’ was being sent to Kamino for secondary duty, risking analyses and tests that could result in battalion transfer or sanitation duty or something much, much worse that the clones never even wanted to talk about. ‘Taking a break’ was effectively asking to be set out to pasture and forgotten about. How the hell had Comet come to this in the two months since she’d last seen him?

The same way you almost stepped away after Tibrin.

Amara closed her eyes and took a breath. She could see very clearly now why Wolffe had sent Comet to her rather than anyone else.

So instead of a lecture full of words that wouldn’t really mean anything, Amara sat down on the padded floor and gestured for Comet to join her.

“You know … I questioned everything after Tibrin. When I blew up that last reef? I wasn’t even thinking of the people on it. The only thing on my mind was protecting my men, buying us a little more time to figure something out.” She took breath. “I haven’t told anyone this. Haven’t even let myself think it, but … I could feel when they died. I was in the water, halfway back to our reef and everything around me just lost its color for a moment. The water wasn’t that bright turquoise, the corals weren’t that dusty pink. It was all grey.”

Amara replayed that moment in her mind. Could feel the waves rushing against her chest, the agony of such an abrupt loss threatening to pull her under. When she’d pulled herself up onto the reef, she’d acted like it was no big deal, just another action in the time of war that she’d swallow down. But it had taken everything in her just to turn her back on the destruction she’d wrought.

“When one of you dies,” she finally looked at Comet then, saw him focused intently on her, “or one of the Jedi, I feel it. The loss, the pain. The freedom, sometimes. But nothing … nothing ever quite like that before. We got on the Resolute and I didn’t want to risk ever putting myself in that position again.”

Comet nodded, a rush of empathy coloring the Force around him. “What changed your mind?”

“Master Plo.” Amara smiled, thinking of the talk they’d had in one of the Temple gardens. “He told me the Republic need generals who learned from their mistakes and who genuinely cared. To take one more position away from those who might not.”

“Do you ever wish you’d made a different choice?”

Every day, a voice inside of her whispered. But Amara wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Yes, she spent a few moments every day thinking on her choices. Thinking on the paths that led her to where she was. But that didn’t mean she regretted the life she’d committed to.

“I wonder if what I’m doing actually makes a difference. If what I’m adding that’s ‘good’ balances the bad.”

Comet sighed. “I know what you mean. I’m afraid of what other guilt I’ll have to carry around. Of what else this war will make me do that tips that balance in the wrong direction.”

“Then don’t let it,” Amara shook her head, trying to shake away the truth in Comet’s words. “That guilt you feel, Comet, it doesn’t have to consume you. Learn from it. Let it make you better. Let it make you even more of the kind of soldier that maybe we don’t deserve but that we desperately, desperately need.”

They let the words hang between them. Amara wondered what Wolffe would think of everything she’d just said to Comet. It wasn’t more or less than anything they’d said to each other. But there was something different about sharing this, something she’d used to forge a connection with Wolffe, with someone else. The thought brought with it an overwhelming sense of longing in the pit of her stomach.

She swallowed tightly around the pain as Comet shifted next to her. She could think about Wolffe later. Maybe she’d send him a message, ask to debrief back on Coruscant. She could make time in her schedule for him. She would make time.

“You know,” Comet chuckled to himself, pulling Amara away from her thoughts, “I get it now.”

A smile pulled at her lips as Comet kept laughing. “Get what?”

“Why Wolffe likes talking to you so much.” He wiped at his eyes, missing the blush that rose to Amara’s cheeks.

She didn’t speak to the men about what Wolffe might or might not think about her. The conversation with Sinker that last night with the 104th was the closest she’d gotten and she was thankful for that. It was hard enough dealing with her feelings without knowing what he said about her to other people.

Still … it wouldn’t hurt to know just a little. After all, it had been nearly two months since she’d last seen him.

“How would you know that?”

Comet raised an eyebrow at her. “He sent me here for a reason, right?”

Right. That was it. Of course Wolffe didn’t talk about her with Comet in any other way. Why would he? They were just—

“And he told me to give you this after the mission.” Comet reached into the pouch of his belt lying next to him and pulled out a holo puck, guilt hedging into his smile. “I would have given it to you sooner, but I knew you’d want to talk and I just … wasn’t ready.”

He placed the puck in her palm and Amara had to remind herself to breathe. The promise of hearing Wolffe’s voice again, after so long without it, was enough to make her want to sprint back to her quarters, abandoning Comet on the training room floor. She shook her head and put the puck away safely in her own belt and eyed Comet.

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose that.”

“And risk never being allowed to return to the 104th?” He placed a hand over his heart. “No chance.”

Amara hummed, pleased to hear a bit of the old Comet back in his voice. “So … no ‘taking a break’?”

Comet huffed out a breath. “No. No, I think I’ve put that behind me.”

Unexpected tears stung the back of Amara’s eyes and she blinked them away before he could see. Maybe agreeing to be a general, agreeing to keep fighting in this war she still wasn’t sure about, had been worth it, even if just for this.

“Well, if you ever need ‘a break’ again,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “you’re always welcome here. Let that phrase mean something else from now on, understood?”

Comet nodded, face serious but the Force much lighter around him than she’d seen it since he first arrived on her ship. “Yes, General.”

“Good.”

Amara stood up, checking briefly to make sure Wolffe’s holo puck was safely tucked away, before pulling Comet up with her. He smiled, gathering up his things to leave. But Amara hesitated.

Now that she was free to run off and listen to Wolffe’s message in peace, she found that she was terrified to hear what he had to say. Her expectations, she feared, were too high. She cleared her throat and, when Comet glanced back at her, she gestured to the square in the centre of the training room where the clones usually sparred.

“The Four-Fourteen are good sparring buddies, but it’s hard to beat the 104th. Think I might be getting a bit rusty.”

Comet stared at her for a moment, clearly reading between the lines. If he’d been Boost he would have called her out on it. Sinker would have shook his head and walked away. But Comet was, despite everything, still Comet. He smiled and dropped his stack of armor.

“I did notice you struggling to hold that punching bag still, General. Sure you’re up for a round?”

Amara followed him to the square, relief relaxing her shoulders and centering her mind away from Wolffe. At least a bit.

“I said I was rusty. Not that I couldn’t still kick your shebs into the next sector.”

Comet laughed and it sounded just a bit like home.

*****

An hour later, Amara walked into her quarters, sweaty from sparring and finally ready to listen to Wolffe’s message.

Well, she looked down at her shaking hands, maybe ‘ready’ was a bit of an overstatement.

Comms with the 104th had never recovered after their initial breakdown when Comet arrived, and any contact she’d had with her old battalion preceding that had been only with Plo. Amara tried not to read into that.

She took out the holo puck from her belt and tossed it between her hands, feeling the cool metal against her skin and thinking of the last words she’d said to Wolffe, back on Coruscant.

See you around, Wolffe.

It had been a promise, small and subtle enough to ignore if they wanted. But she didn’t want to. And she didn’t think he did, either. They’d see each other again, so long as they survived. They’d exist in each other’s lives, even if that existence looked a little different than before. Whatever was on this holo had all the leverage in determining just how different that existence would be.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted, but maybe that was for the best. If she couldn’t decide between her feelings and her duty, then whatever Wolffe said, whichever way his message might lean, stood no chance of disappointing her.

Master Plo would have seen right through that excuse, but he wasn’t here. Amara was alone. And she could make that excuse her reality as much as she damn well pleased.

Settled, Amara set the puck on the shelf next to her bunk, turned it on before she lost the nerve, and curled up with her back against the wall, ready.

When the blue-white recording of Commander Wolffe of the 104th Battalion smiled across at her, a softness in the wavering depths of his eyes that she hadn’t known she’d missed, Amara let herself relax and she let herself smile back.

****

I’ll see you around, Amara. I don’t know when or in what way, but I’ll see you. That’s a promise I know I can keep.

The end of Wolffe’s recording echoed in Amara’s mind as she tried to explain to Comet why she’d called him to the bridge when she couldn’t exactly explain it herself. Wolffe would never break a promise, if he said he would see her again, he would.

Unless he’s dead. Amara blinked the voice away.

“If you’ve had any contact at all with the 104th, Comet, I need to know.”

He could be dead.

Comet shook his head, the rest of his body perfectly still. “No, General. Not since I left the Triumphant three weeks ago. Are you sure it’s not just an issue with our own comms?”

He’s probably dead. Amara stared out into the whirl of hyperspace, letting Riv answer for her.

“Comms are working fine now. We’ve sent messages back to Coruscant, requesting an update and received nothing back so far.” Riv glanced at her but Amara stayed staring forward. “But the general has a … feeling.”

The weight of Comet’s stare added to Riv’s. They were waiting for her to say something, anything. Amara couldn’t get her mouth to move.

“General,” Comet moved to stand next to her, eyes still on her instead of the viewport. “What kind of feeling?”

Amara finally looked up at him and saw all the fear she felt reflected in his dark eyes. She owed him, of all people on this ship, an answer. She didn’t have one, but she had to give him something. She was the general here, it was her job to keep the men moving, alleviate their worries, give them some hope. She cleared her throat, ready to tell Comet it was just a worry, maybe an overreaction.

And then her head exploded into a thousand pieces.

“General?” Hands grabbed at her, trying to … pull her up? Was she no longer standing? “General Kora what’s wrong?”

Amara shook the hands off, her skin sensitive with a deep-seated ache as she pushed her own hands against her forehead, trying to escape the pain. She could see everything around her in staggering clarity, but it was grey, so grey. Grey like it was on Tibrin when so many people died all at once.

It was happening again. The loss. The pain. The ache in the Force. But this time was so so much worse. She’d been naive, back then, to think she’d experienced the worse of death. This felt like pieces of her brain, of her heart, ceasing to exist. She couldn’t speak.

Dead

She could sense people moving around her, could feel the ship humming beneath her, could see the lines of worry in every face. Was that Comet? Ordering a medic to help her? And Riv, messing with the communications hub?

She couldn’t speak.

They’re all dead.

She couldn’t—

“This is a message for General Amara Kora of the 414th battalion.” Master Windu’s voice, always a solace to her, pulled her back from the brink. Amara blinked and stared at his outline on the holo table, everything else fading into the background even as the pounding in her head and chest continued. “The 104th have encountered a dangerous new weapon and we have lost contact. The 414th is to continue back to Coruscant immediately. We do not yet know how to defeat this weapon and we cannot afford to lose another battalion.” He stared at her. She wasn’t sure he could actually see her, didn’t know if this was live or recorded, but he stared right at her. The seriousness of his next words highlighted by the stern set of his mouth. “There is nothing you can do right now. Return to the Temple and we will debrief you there.”

The holo winked out of view and Master Windu’s voice was replaced by Comet’s.

“He didn’t tell us where they were when they lost contact. Why didn’t he tell us where they were?”

Amara leaned against the table, brushing off their medic, Helix, with a gentle nudge. “Because he knew if he told me, I’d ignore his orders and take us there anyway.”

Comet scoffed. “Because that’s the reasonable thing to do, General. We’re a full battalion, we can help.”

Amara stared at the empty holo table, wincing at the similar emptiness she felt in her head, in her heart, in the very core of her being. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to exert all of the 414th’s resources on finding out where the 104th was. She needed to find them. Needed to know exactly how many of them were dead.

Because they were dead. She could feel the absence of so many she’d come to know over the past months, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly who the absences belonged to. They were dead. They were dead. They were dead.

There was absolutely nothing she could do about that now, but she could get these men, these very alive men, back to Coruscant. To whatever passed for safety these days.

I don’t know how long I’ll last in this war. Amara closed her eyes for just a moment against Wolffe’s words before she straightened up and let go of the holo table.

She looked Comet directly in the eye, because she owed him that much. “We increase our speed as safely as possible. But we continue our path to Coruscant all the same.”

Comet shook his head, anger darkening his Force color. “You don’t mean that.”

She turned her attention to the 414th clones on the bridge and spoke with as much strength as she could muster. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir”s echoed around her and Amara made her way the bridge door.

“General, you should come with me.” Helix blocked her exit, concern etched across his brow. “If I hadn’t watched you in there just now, I’d say you have a concussion.”

Amara shook her head, holding back a wince at the staggering pain. “I’m fine, Helix. I just need to meditate.” She waved a hand and pushed past him. “Jedi stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

She had the vague impression of Helix protesting behind her, but she continued on down the hall and toward her quarters. Her head screamed with every step, something pulled at her heart with every breath. She needed to lie down. She needed to meditate. She needed to figure out what the fuck had happened.

She needed, desperately, to let herself cry.

“Wolffe would go after you.”

Amara stopped, hand reaching out to palm her door open, and tried to focus past the pain. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Comet.”

“The hell I do, General. He would go after you. And you know it."

I miss you, Amara … It’s enough for me to know that you know.

Amara pulled her hand back and turned to face Comet, the light behind him making her squint. “No he wouldn’t. He would get his men to safety. He would—” She paused to rub at her eyes. The light was too fucking bright. “He would put everyone and their needs ahead of himself and his wants because that’s what we do. I have a responsibility to these men. Wolffe would understand that.”

“You used to have a responsibility to the 104th, too. General.”

His words hung between them, weighing the air down and threatening to bring forth the tears Amara was trying so hard to keep at bay. This wasn't the Comet she knew. Even at his worst, he'd never talked to her this way. But she could feel his pain in the Force alongside his anger and it matched her own. She was the general, he was the soldier, and she was responsible for him. Regardless of whether he believed it or not.

“I don’t think Wolffe would have sent you to me if he didn’t think I still took that responsibility seriously.” She turned away from him and opened her door. “Get some rest, Comet.”

The door swished close behind her, but not before she heard the loud thump of a fist connecting with a durasteel wall.

Pulling Wolffe’s holo puck out of her belt, Amara sank to the floor. With shaking hands, she turned on the recording.

General Kora … Amara. I asked Comet to give you this recording …

As words she’d already memorized consumed her, Amara tentatively reached into the Force, searching for his distinct signature. They were so connected, so in tune with one another that surely she’d feel him. Surely she’d be able to know for certain if he was …

A wall of pain blocked her from searching further. Her connection with the Force was too fraught, too sensitive, too overwhelmed with loss. If she tried any harder, she’d risk hurting herself permanently.

I hope that when you’re listening to this, you’re rolling your eyes and muttering something about how I didn’t need to explain it so much because you already knew.

Amara looked back at the holo, eyes tracing the quirk of Wolffe’s lips, the gentle set of his arms crossed over his chest.

I also hope you know that I’m explaining it all because I miss you.

As a sob yanked itself free from her too-tight throat, Amara covered her face and finally let herself cry.

#sw tcw fanfiction #sw tcw fanfic #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe x ofc

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 6 months ago

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Cover art by @pinkiemme

Series Summary:

Wolffe's life is turned upside down when his wife suddenly dies while he's home on Coruscant. As Wolffe battles through his grief, he is forced to take on the role of father and mother to his four-year-old daughter Cara, who struggles to understand why her mother is gone. When Wolffe receives orders for a new deployment, he hires Lilith Sestri from a nanny service in a desperate attempt to ensure his daughter is taken care of while he's away. However, tragedy will continue to follow them throughout the rest of the War.

Series Forward:

Where's Mommy? isn't your average love story because it's not about romance. It's about family, grief, and loss. Following Wolffe and Cara's journey is an emotional roller coaster full of uphill battles, downhill terrors, and fleeting joys. While some moments may seem happy, a thread of sadness remains woven through the center. Is there hope for them? Read their story and find out!

Series Index:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 (TBD because work got crazy)

Series Inspired Fanworks:

Cara and Wolffe Holo Photo (Part 4) - @amalthiaph

Fighting Breakfast (Part 6) - @alligatorpie1945

Cara's Baby Blanket Refs (Part 8)

Cara's Tooka Doll (Part 8) - @frostycatblr-fandom-files

Love is Stored in the Carrot (Part 8) - @kimiheartblade

Love is Stored in the Carrot (Part 9) - @frostycatblr-fandom-files

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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years ago

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The Last Word: Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: THE WOLVES

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Flashback to a week before, Mal is faced with a big decision that could alter her life drastically. But is she ready to leave the safety of the Wolfpack and face the hard questions that she’s been hiding from?

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of Umbara/past trauma

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: The Wolves by Ben Howard

A/N: No Fives this time, but lots of our other favorites, I promise :) Thank you so much for all of the support on Chapter One! I never could have imagined how loving and positive the response would be. Excited to share more of this story with you all! As always, comments, likes, feedback, and reblogs are always so appreciated!

Ao3

Taglist

The transfer talk had started a week earlier. Four Venator-class Star Destroyers lingered as a fleet in the Expanse Region, the armies recollecting while their generals strategized and regrouped. Mal kept busy organizing the medbay. She and the 104th’s clone medic, Crux, worked in silence as they tried hard not to think about why they were all gathered in the depths of space and not on their scheduled leave.

The first sign that something was wrong had been Plo Koon. The General, normally extremely patient and even-tempered, even by Jedi standards, stormed onto the bridge with a thunderous call to attention. He pulled Wolffe away for a meeting that lasted hours. The first anyone heard from them was a crackling summons for Sinker and Comet. The venom in Wolffe’s voice, clear even over the comm, sent a chill down Mal’s spine. She’d never heard him like that, not even after Abregado. The officers disappeared, and the meeting dragged on for even longer. Mal waited with Crux, Wildfire, and Boost. They crouched around a communicator listening to the rumors that began to trickle in from other ships over private lines; stories of brothers killing brothers under orders, horrors that the clones couldn’t imagine.

Mal, on the other hand, felt her heart begin to race as they listened. She knew horrors like these. They were the ones that haunted her nightmares and sometimes her waking moments, like ghosts that hung over her shoulders, their weight ladened with guilt. She never imagined terrors like this could reach her - or her friends - here, in the Republic army, far from the Separatists and surrounded by an army of brothers. She gripped the edge of the seat to stop her hands from shaking. When the comms finally went silent, no one spoke.

Before anyone could find the words, the meeting adjourned, and the officers were back on the deck. It seemed whatever fury had been burning before had subsided. They all looked heavy now, older. It was the oddest on Wolffe. Though he usually chose his words carefully, the stoic quietness that had overtaken the usually grumbling Commander was new and darker. Sinker barked the orders instead. The Jedi cruiser immediately made its jump to the Expanse region to gather with other Republic ships.

Three days passed before Mal saw Wolffe again. He locked himself in his office and didn’t respond to comms. Mal checked on him through Sinker, who made sure that he was eating for her. Satisfied that Sinker was doing his best to pester the Commander into taking care of himself, Mal found boredom creeping up on her without anyone to patch up. She and Crux did their best to stay distracted. The medbay had never looked cleaner. When Mal wasn’t restocking med packs or refilling bacta containers, she was organizing games of sabacc. Sabacc had always been a source of comfort for Mal, and it had been a downtime staple of the 104th since she joined. With the minimal stipends the clones got, Mal never let them play for real credits. Usually, they used ration bars or scraps of flimsi. It made it more fun anyway. There was more laughter and teasing, with nothing really on the line. Nothing on the line was a nice change of pace.

This afternoon’s game came about during a lull in after-lunch chores. Mal, Comet, Wildfire, Sinker, Crux, and Boost were huddled in a circle in the men’s barracks. Mal was in the middle of a roll when Wolffe called. The dice tumbled from her hand just as the comm on her wrist beeped, its final notes drowned out by a collective groan at the numbers she rolled. When Mal answered, Wolffe’s voice met her ears and brought a smile to her face. It was back to being its recognizable gruff timbre.

“Mal, get in here.” He snapped before he cut the call.

The message was short and to the point, as his comms always were. Mal knew she’d find him in his office, and before she could wonder why she was being summoned, the other clones began to make low whistles.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Comet chuckled.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Boost shook his head at her with a paternal smile.

“Don’t worry, ad’ika. We’ll have Crux ready the medbay for after your chewing out.” Sinker elbowed the medic next to him, who quickly shuffled his cards away from the trooper and glared.

“The Jedi are probably finally giving me a medal for putting up with you all.” Mal sighed as she threw down her own cards.

Sinker leaned over the table, abandoning any pretense of subtlety, to stare at her hand before his gaze snapped back up to Mal. His jaw hung open, and betrayal was written all over his face.

“You’re a liar!” Sinker called out.

“It’s called bluffing. I know you’re not familiar with it.” She winked at him before she turned, leaving the rest of the soldiers to tease their brother about his bad sabacc face.

Mal wound the dark halls of the Venator until she reached Wolffe’s office. As the blast door slid open, she knew she’d find the Commander bent over a desk covered in flimsi, holos, and datapads. Mal had offered to clean it for him time and time again. Still, Wolffe always rolled his eyes at her and said it was organized to him, usually throwing in some colorful adjectives along the way. Mal wasn’t expecting an unfamiliar clone to be waiting with him.

The new clone, a captain according to the rank on his chest, sat in one of the two chairs across from Wolffe, his left hand resting on the chair arm and the right laid on the helmet that was perched atop his knee. Mal quickly saluted the familiar yet unfamiliar man. She wasn’t officially military, not like the clones. Civilian medics were a subset of the GAR, but she held no rank, and the field training had been practically shameful. The role was created so there would be extra hands to help the clone medics and the medical droids in the medbay and the medbay only.

Though she might not be officially GAR, Mal didn’t mind the military aspects of the job. The structure and the order of everything had seeped into her blood quickly. A part of Mal loved it. Craved it even. It felt safe. She just couldn’t stand being told what to do, not since Takodana. Luckily, Wolffe never minded if Mal took a little creative license with her scope. From the beginning, he had encouraged Crux to take her with him into the field. He respected her experience, and she also suspected that Wolffe knew she liked the intensity and distraction of it all, even if they never talked about it. It was one of the ways they were similar.

The captain smiled as Mal paused in the doorway. He had close-cropped blonde hair and brown eyes that twinkled even in the cabin’s dim light. She found that she liked the man right away. He radiated kindness, not a meek, differential kindness, but the warm kindness that comes from a confident, caring heart.

“Yes, sir?” Mal lingered at the entrance in case she had misunderstood the summons.

“You’re suddenly all polite in front of company?” Wolffe winked his cybernetic eye at her, his brown one bright with glee. Mal instantly relaxed. “Have a seat. Captain Rex and I were talking about you.”

“You must be the Captain Rex talking about me.” She flashed a smile at the man as she settled into the third chair. “Nice to meet you.”

“My vod always had a talent for introductions.” He grinned at his brother, bringing a familiar scowl to Wolffe’s face. “I promise it was only good things.”

Mal glanced back and forth between the officers. When neither of them spoke again, her curiosity got the better of her.

“So, what’s going on?”

Rex’s eyes flicked to Wolffe. When the Commander didn’t speak, his brow seemed to set in determination. He turned back to Mal, facing her fully.

“I was asking the Commander if you might be open to a transfer.”

A black hole could have opened up and swallowed her at that moment, and she wouldn’t have been more surprised. Mal’s eyes flitted to Wolffe, hoping to see some sort of anger or shock that another battalion was trying to steal her away, but she saw nothing. That stung. She always knew Wolffe was less openly emotional about his attachment to her than the rest of the 104th, but Mal still thought their relationship meant something to him. She certainly never thought he’d push her out.

“I’m sorry to ask.” Rex quickly added, reading the shock on her face. “I wouldn’t like the idea of leaving my men either. Truth is, my troop is short on medics. I promoted my man Coric to CMO, leaving my Torrent Company with only one primary medic. And uh, frankly, we’re a little too reckless for that.”

Mal pulled her attention from the cool commander and back to the captain with the soft eyes. She could deal with Wolffe later.

“Wolffe brags about you all the time to the other COs. Figured if I was gonna go searching for a civilian medic, I might as well try to get the best.” Rex drummed his fingers on his helmet as he spoke.

Mal blushed at the statement before she quickly searched the Captain’s face. She was looking for flattery, but his smile was unwaveringly genuine.

“I promise you I’ll think about it,” she assured Rex. It was a lie, and Mal felt a pang of guilt after seeing how earnest he was.

“All I can ask.” Rex stood, tucking his helmet into his hip. “I need to get back to my ship. Can’t leave those di’kute unsupervised for too long.”

He let out a half-exasperated chuckle to himself before he nodded to her and then saluted the Commander. Rex turned on his heel without another word and marched from the room. Mal waited until the door was sealed shut behind him.

“What the hell, Wolffe?” She snapped as she spun back to him. “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

Wolffe leaned back in his chair as he raised an amused eyebrow at her, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. It was the look he always gave Mal when she got feisty with him. He enjoyed her hot-headed nature and entertained it the same way a loth wolf would tolerate the play-fighting of a pup. His lackadaisical response to her fury often made her laugh and soothed her, but sometimes, it irritated Mal, especially when she was really pissed off. This was one of those times.

“After everything, you’re just gonna ship me out?” Mal felt her voice start to rise as fear bubbled in her chest. She shifted to the edge of her seat, the world suddenly a little unsteady. “You’ve got to be kidding. This is bantha shit.”

“Settle down, ad’ika. I’m not kicking you out.” Wolffe crossed his arms, his voice even. “I’ve already found that you’re impossible to get rid of.”

“Fuck you.” Mal fired right back at him before she paused. His little quip helped temper the panic, but frustration still seethed from her. “Then what the hell?”

“Look,” He leaned forward, his voice dropping a half an octave. “Rex is with the 501st.”

Mal gasped, despite herself. Everyone in the GAR had heard of the 501st, the famously brave and infamously bold legion that fought under the command of General Anakin Skywalker. Stories of their more creative battle plans were told over shots of spotchka. In the last week, however, their name had been uttered in hushed tones and horrified whispers as the stories of what had happened on Umbara last week spread throughout the GAR.

“He was so…” She thought about Captain Rex’s smile. “... kind.”

“Always has been. Rex is the best of us.” He spoke without affection as though it were a fact. “The bravest, the most creative, the boldest. Even while he’s hurting right now, he’s only thinking of his men. For better or for worse. I think you can relate to him. In more ways than one.”

Wolffe settled back into his chair as he let the inference in his words sink in. The already small durasteel office seemed to shrink, closing in on Mal as she shifted in her seat.

“From the stories, they were tricked on Umbara.” Her heart began to pound at the implication. “Not controlled.”

“Didn’t say it was the same, ad’ika. Just said you might be able to relate.”

Mal’s frown deepened. Finally, when she didn’t speak, Wolffe rolled his eyes and sighed. She knew it was at her refusal to admit he might be on to something, but when he started again, his voice was softer than she had heard in a long time.

“Look, I know I don’t say it a lot, but I don’t know what we would have done without after….” Wolffe trailed off. Mal knew what he meant. He coughed. “You rescued Sinker, Boost, and me way back then.”

A silence filled the room for a moment as memories overwhelmed them both. The war had felt like years, but the weight of those early days never felt less heavy, especially if they looked directly at them.

“You rescued me first,” she quickly replied, giving him a small smile.

“Us finding you was luck, Mal.” He said firmly. “You came back, and you brought mirjahaal with you.”

Mal knew what he was implying. She had worked hard in the days and months after Grevious’ attack to make sure that the remnants of the 104th healed or at least knew that they would eventually heal, inside and out. It was the least that she could do. They had done the same for her not long before. And it seemed like Wolffe thought she could do the same for the 501st.

“I don’t know them.” She frowned.

“But I know you, and I think you can help them.”

“How can you ask me to leave you? To leave Sinker and Boost? After everything?” Her voice was starting to rise again.

“Because I owe Rex that. We all do.”

Mal didn’t say anything. What Wolffe was asking her - to leave the only family she had left- was impossible, and he should know it.

“It’s not just about the 501st, though. There’s another reason I think you should at least consider it.” Wolffe’s eyes narrowed, the white and amber iris each focused on her. Suddenly, the air was tense, and Mal felt bare before her old friend. “I didn’t say anything to Rex, but this is also your chance for answers… if you still want them.”

Answers. She hadn’t thought about answers in a long time. Defense bubbled up in her chest. Of course, she still wanted them. Wolffe had to know that. She looked at him, half-pleading. His scar. Before Khorm. That was the last time they had talked about this. Before Khorm. Mal’s heart began to sink as she realized that it had been almost a year since she had looked into any of her leads. She didn’t realize it had been so long. What had happened to her family was easier to push down and push aside while she busied herself with making war. She pretended that fighting the Separatists was enough. She had ignored her oath to find out why everyone was dead, and she was ignoring the debt she owed them. She’d gotten comfortable. The oxygen was suddenly scarce as Mal tried to inhale. Cadex and Tynan’s faces flashed before her, their green eyes staring blankly into hers.

Wolffe cleared his throat again, pulling her back to the present. Breath flooded her lungs as Wolffe waited. She mustered up the courage to respond.

“I do.” Mal finally answered.

“Then take the transfer,” Wolffe repeated. “I will follow General Plo until I die, but his methods are slower… more precise. Skywalker will get you where you want to be.”

She didn’t say anything, the flame of defensiveness wetted by her guilt. It had been over two years, and she hadn’t gotten any closer to finding out what had happened or why. Mal had brought her story to General Plo Koon after she had first been rescued. The Kel Dor listened with interest and promised he would help. She knew he meant it, but the war raged on, and nothing had come of it. Wolffe was right. It was time for answers, and she needed to find a Jedi ready to help. She needed a Jedi who would be a little reckless.

“The decision is up to you.” Wolffe shook his head, finally breaking eye contact for a moment, just enough to let her breathe again. He brought his hands down to the desk, a tell-tale sign that he was closing the subject. “But you should know I wouldn’t give up my favorite medic unless I had a reason.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mal said as she stood.

This time, she meant it.

Mal tried to think about it as she made her way to the mess hall, but the annoyance that had dissipated under Wolffe’s gaze was beginning to bubble up again. How dare he try to talk her into leaving? This was her family, the only one she had anymore, and she belonged here. A feeling of betrayal settled like a rock into the pit of her stomach as she collected whatever slop the GAR was serving. She sought out her friends quickly.

Mal spotted Crux first. The clone medic stood out with his shaved head, the practical choice he once told her, and the GAR medical sigil tattooed on the back of his neck. Sitting with him were two other unmistakable heads, one of silver and the other decorated with two long, maroon strips.

“Why the long face?” Boost asked as Mal set her tray on the table and plopped down on the bench across from him.

She told them about the transfer. She gave them Rex’s offer and Wolffe’s logic, and then she told them all the reasons she was furious. This was her home. Her family. She waited for them to be mad for her. She waited for the cries of outrage. They never came.

“‘S not a bad idea.” Boost rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced over at Sinker.

Mal followed his gaze to see Sinker nodding. She snapped her head to her fellow medic, looking for support, but next to her, Crux shrugged in agreement.

“What is this?” She threw her arms up in the air. “Is everyone trying to get rid of me?”

“No one’s trying to get rid of you, ad’ika.” Boost quickly tried to assure her.

“Yeah, that’s impossible. We already tried.” Sinker snickered.

“That’s what Wolffe said, too,” Mal grumbled, shooting a glare at Sinker as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Neither of you are funny.”

“Look, be mad all you want.” Boost answered as he dove back into his meal, the shock of the news immediately wearing off in the face of a rapidly cooling dinner. “But Wolffe is right. If you want to be in the middle of the action, if you want answers, and you want ‘em quickly, the 501st is the place to be. And a spot with them isn’t going to open up every week.”

“You never know with their casualty numbers.”

Sinker chuckled again as Boost shot him the glare this time. Boost shook his head at his brother before he turned his attention back to his meal. He sliced a piece of his protein cube off and found it with his fork before he turned back to Mal, waving his skewered food like a lightsaber.

“It’s your call to make, but the fact that Captain Rex asked for you is a compliment. You’re a damn good medic, and you’ve worked hard to get here. Done a lot for us clones in the 104th along the way. Now it’s time to get what you want. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

You deserve to be happy.

“Tye would have told you to do it,” Sinker added, his joking tone suddenly gone.

Mal didn’t respond to that. She didn’t even look at Sinker. Instead, she turned to Crux, trying to ignore how her skin was starting to crawl.

“What do you think?”

The 104th’s medic was quiet, momentarily assessing as he always did.

“It makes sense.” Crux finally spoke. “Will we be short a medic for the time being? Yes, but the 501st has far higher mortality numbers than we do. Strategically, they need you more.”

“Aw shucks, just saw you’ll miss me.” Mal elbowed the stiff medic.

He grinned back.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

The conversation quickly turned to other subjects, but food quickly disappeared, and the meal wound down. As they gathered their trays and empty cups, She and Crux said their goodbyes to the other two before they started to wander back to the medbay. Mal waited until they were in the empty halls to broach the subject again

She and Crux hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Their first few months together had been particularly rough. He didn’t trust her as a civilian, and she resented him for… well, for not being Tye. But it had been a long time since then. His even temper and logic in the face of blaster fire and carnage were a perfect balance to her emotionally charged reactions. He was the only one besides Wolffe who would know what the right answer was.

“Really, what do you think?” She slid her hands into the pockets of the grey jumpsuit as she prodded the stoic medic again.

“You really want to know?”

“I asked.” She shrugged, her long gently red braid bouncing on her shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I’ve fallen into that trap before, Mal.” Crux chuckled, and Mal knew that one of any number of memories of heated arguments was on his mind. “You don’t usually like being told what to do.”

“I just want your advice,” She said, “as a friend, not as my medic CO.”

“Alright.” Crux sighed before he spoke. “I think that, despite what it feels like right now, this war isn’t going to go on forever. You have to take the opportunities you’re given. Take it from a clone.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. Crux continued a few steps, not realizing he was leaving his companion before he looked to his side and found the space empty. He paused and turned back to where his words had stopped her in her tracks. Shame burned her cheeks. Here she was, oscillating over choices that gave her a power in her future that the clones rarely saw.

“I’m sorry, Crux, I-”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Mal.” He shook his head as he quickly cut her off. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just offering a different perspective. I don’t want to see you miss your chance to change your path.”

Mal bit her lip as she nodded, digging her hands further into her pockets. Crux gave her a small smile.

“Go get some rest, Mal. I’ll finish up in the medbay.”

Mal didn’t realize how exhausted she felt until she stripped off the jumpsuit, let her hair loose, and pulled on sweatpants and a sweater. It had sunk into her bones and laid heavy there. Still, neither rest nor clarity found Mal when she crawled into bed. As the lights flickered off on the living quarters of the Star Destroyer, Mal lay in a lonely lower bunk in the small and otherwise empty civilian barracks. The idea of a transfer had taken root in her head, and it was sprouting. She wished she was back on Coruscant, something that she rarely felt. Still, Mal missed the dingy local pool that she and Tye had found on the 576th level the week after she had moved into her off-base apartment. She wanted to swim. The future was always clearer in the water.

Instead, Mal stared up at the dim metal of the top bunk. The thought of leaving the 104th still made her pulse quicken and her breath rise. Leaving this battalion would be more than a transfer. It would be losing her family again. She owed her life to Sinker, Boost, and Wolffe. She had been with them when they had to rebuild. The idea of not having their back or them not having hers was devastating. Who would patch them up? Who would make sure that Wolffe ate something or that Comet slept?

Mal turned on her side, eyes looking out into the impenetrable dark. It was overwhelming. She was usually grateful that she didn’t have to share the bunk with anyone. She didn’t have to worry about upsetting them when the nightmares came, and she had always appreciated solitude. Tonight, Mal would have liked someone to talk to, though. She thought about comm-ing Wolffe or Crux, but a growing part of her realized that the one person she really wanted to talk to was Tye.

Tye. In the span of a lifetime, she’d only known him for a fraction of it, but he had a clarity and purpose that she’d never seen in anyone. She could use that clarity right now. The last time she remembered having it was when she made the decision to join the GAR as a medic so she could help the 104th. She had needed to give something back to all of the Wolfpack, but her debt to Tye weighed heaviest on her, and it was one she couldn’t repay. Not anymore. He was a corpse floating somewhere out in the Abregado system. All she could do was look after his brothers and hope it was enough. Now Wolffe was telling her his brothers needed help. Maybe this was what she needed to do to keep repaying that debt.

And then there was the promise of answers. Wolffe was right. Mal had pushed that quest aside for a long time, focusing on the day-to-day battle instead of the questions always in the back of her mind. If this was the chance to finally find out what happened to her family, she had to take it. She owed it to herself and them, another debt to the dead. A hand wandered up to her temple and traced a familiar path into her hairline until it found the raised skin that lay beneath her auburn roots. Mal ran her fingertips over the small incision, long since healed and hidden. It had been hidden long enough. It was time for answers.

Sleep crept up on Mal like a nexu, springing out at her from the darkness and wrestling her mind into the abyss. She didn’t have any nightmares that night.

Mal woke up the next morning feeling rested in a way she couldn't remember being since before the war when rainy nights on Takodana would turn into bright mornings where the sun-kissed dew would fall from the overgrown canopy. Those mornings when she would take her boat to the lake and patrol the waterways were the last time she remembered having this kind of purpose. Despite the uncertainty ahead, it was fortifying.

Mal took a quick sonic shower in her private fresher before she braided her hair and pulled on her gray jumpsuit. She glanced in the long mirror as she ran her fingers over the 104th's emblem on her chest. She traced the aurebesh numbers and the small wolf emblem. With deft fingers, Mal took the pin from the fabric and pocketed it.

She stepped out of the fresher, and immediately went to see Wolffe. The hallways were filled with familiar faces and greetings, and she savored every one of them. Wildfire met her with her morning caf. They took it the same - one sugar, one cream - and after continuously switching cups in briefings, he finally just started to bring Mal her own, with an M on the lid. She surprised him with a hug as she took it and promised she would meet him at breakfast in a little bit. There was something she had to do.

The caf tasted even sweeter today, and Mal smiled as she sipped on on the warm drink. She clasped her hands around the cup as she found herself stopping before Wolffe's office again. The blast door loomed before her for a moment. She knew that there were things on the other side that she might not like. There were no answers that would save her from her sins. One hand left its grip on the cup so she could run her fingers over the cool durasteel, tracing the fine lines until she found the control panel. Mal typed in the code she knew by heart, and the door slid open. An affectionate smile crossed her lips when she spotted Wolffe. He was sitting behind his desk as he always did, behind a mound of flimsi and nose buried in a datapad. She realized she would miss his messy desk.

“I’ll do it,” Mal quickly spoke, not giving herself even a second to change her mind.

Wolffe kept typing.

“Our leave next week overlaps with the 501st. We’ll make the transition then.”

“You already talked to Rex.” She huffed. It wasn’t a question.

He finally looked up from the datapad with a sly grin.

“I knew you’d say yes.”

Mal shook her head at the Commander as she rolled her eyes and sighed at his arrogance. The annoyance didn’t reach her eyes, though. With nothing else to discuss, Mal turned to go. Before she could make it to the door, Wolffe spoke again.

“You made the hard choice, Mal,” Wolffe called. “He’d be proud.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. She could ignore Sinker when he brought up Tye, but she couldn’t ignore Wolffe. Mal turned to him with an attempt at a smile, even though she knew it likely looked like a grimace.

“I know.”

“They all would be. Your father, Cadex, and Tynan too.”

Mal’s eyes widened as the names left her friend’s mouth. Wolffe never mentioned her family directly. Even though he knew more about her than anyone else alive, he’d always respected her privacy. Bile began to rise in Mal’s throat. Could she still make them proud? She tried to nod to Wolffe. She stiffly lowered her chin just a little before she spun on her heel and double-timed her way back to her barrack. All along the way, a voice chased her.

You deserve to be happy.

It wasn't until she reached the mess hall that her ears stopped ringing, the noise of the hungry clones a reprieve from the thunderous voices in her head. Wildfire waved her over to a table, and Mal pushed aside Wolffe's final words. No one knew what she deserved, but she was ready to find out.

When Mal finally stepped onto the hangar of the 501st battalion, the morning’s distress had evaporated along with any remnants of a hangover. She had closed the book on her mistake. The clone, Fives, was a mirage now. He was nothing more than a memory at this point, a reaffirmation of her rules, and eventually, once the shame wore off, an embarrassing story for her to tell Sinker and Boost the next time she saw them. Mal had real things to worry about now.

Though the hangover may have been gone, the headache seemed to come right back as she stepped into the sea of blue and white troopers. Her new blue jumpsuit, swapped for her old grey one, matched the armor of the men who marched by her, but there were no signs of recognition. They swarmed around her, looking at their datapads, at each other, looking anywhere but at the nat-born who had just entered their realm. There were no greetings or hugs. There was no Boost to slap her on the back, no Sinker launching an airborne assault of loving insults in salute, no Wildfire with her morning caf. She shifted, all alone amid the Grand Army of the Republic. For the first time in a long time, the machine of the GAR ground on around Mal.

“Mal!” A friendly voice called out from behind her.

She spun immediately, thirsting for anything familiar. A vague feeling of disappointment settled in her gut as she realized the voice was attached to a pair of rapidly approaching jaig eyes.

Stop it. She chastised herself. You agreed to this. Time to make the most of it.

So Mal tucked away the ache and waved at the approaching man. He pulled his helmet from his head, revealing a sideways smile. Captain Rex held his hand out to her before he chirped over the din of the GAR’s machinations.

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @sleepingsun501 @kaminocasey @baba-fett @wild-karrde @rexxdjarin @hugtherocks @lunaastars @clonecyaree @thefact0rygirl @wizardofrozz @jesjestraverse @fordo-kixed-rex @padmeromanoffs @xopancakeox @shellshooked @writingbylee @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamonds

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 2 days ago

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I'll be brave and showcase as many people as I can possibly remember that I'm aware of (however vaguely) enjoying TCW and/or the Clones! Many of us are also involved in TBB-related spaces, as well.

So to start, I'm Frost, and I've been a fan of TCW since the movie came out sixteen years ago! I enjoy the entire franchise really, but TCW is one of my absolute favorite eras. I juggle both fic and art as a creator; much like some of the many, many wonderful folks I've had the pleasure of meeting and interacting with. 🩷

So in no particular order, there's:

@clonethirstingisreal - A super sweet soul who's shown many creators a truly tremendous amount of support, as well as started her first fanfiction this year for her favorite TBB character and an original, female character!

@dystopicjumpsuit - Creative powerhouse who has made graphics, art, fics and even a couple of drinks inspired by our favorite boys of the GAR, as well as the larger franchise.

@freesia-writes (who runs @spicy-clones) - One of the many, many talented writers we have here that you may enjoy reading the work of, if x-readers are your cup of tea!

@eternal-transcience - Creates a lot of lovingly thought-out OC and Canon x OC content that she makes sure it receives a lot of regular care and attention. It's been fascinating to watch her slowly develop parts of a whole world and culture for some of her OCs for the better part of year, now!

@returnofthepineapple - Another super sweet soul to the fandom (who also runs blogs like @pinascloneevents, @pinascreatorcorner and @pinahallowsevecloneparty!) that shows creators an equally incredible amount of support. She makes fics, art, and the occasional lovey-heart reaction images of fan favorite characters, as well as themed graphics.

@523rdrebel - Another fic author, both x-readers and Canon x OC, who also shares a bit of art with us time to time!

@kimiheartblade - Lot of fun OC material and entertaining toy photography of (several) Boba Fett(s), Clones and the occasional Lando Calrissian shenanigans.

@wings-and-beskar - Make sure to mind the fic ratings on her work, but D's written work is such a treat to read. I trust all the fics sitting in my TBR list will make me wish I read them sooner!

@ulchabhangorm - Yet another artist/author combo, Maia has some Commander Wolffe x OFC content I've been meaning to read. She has a knack for finding really good artwork of Wolffe to reblog and share with everyone!

@somewhere-on-kamino - Makes art, as well as editing memes, tumblr text-posts and incorrect quotes.

@lonewolflupe - Incredible artist who's earlier work was all done using a computer mouse(!!) and recently upgraded to a drawing tablet. Absolutely impressed by how much artwork she regularly puts out!

@apocalyp-tech-a - Author/artist combo with an incredible amount of love for TBB Tech!

@fandom-friday - Ran by @wild-karrde, this sideblog has more than just content from a Galaxy Far, Far Away made by other fans, but there's a lot of good, fan-recommended SW content to dig through, so I recommend you give this blog a look!

@littlemissmanga - Has written for a fair amount of Clones, I know some of her work is also in my seemingly miles-long TBR list.

@lightspringrain - Highly, highly, highly recommend her "Crowns" art series of various Clone characters!

@starqueensthings - Makes some absolutely stunning screencap edits of fan-favorite characters. Like seriously, I mean stunning.

@sinfulsalutations - She's written some fabulous x-reader fanfiction for both TBB and TCW, just be sure to mind the ratings!

@the-bad-batch-baroness - Makes incorrect quotes (both original and generated) and fanfiction. Her currently in-progress Wolffe series promises to really tug on your heartstrings!

@nahoney22 - Fanfic powerhouse! Has written So. Many. Good stories it'd be difficult to pick a handful to recommend.

And there are SO MANY more to recommend, but... I think I'll leave a few for everyone else. 😅If you're new to the fandom, to tumblr, or both, welcome! We'd be glad to have you join us here!! 🩷

looking for tcw accounts to follow!! if you like the clone wars, the clones or anything clone related why don't ya pop over and say hi!

#comment reblog #introductions

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wild-karrde · 2 years ago

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Hi Karrde!! Can I shout out Walk Me Home by @cyarbika for fandom Friday? NSA is one of my fave all time fics, and I’ve loved seeing how Bee has grown the story into its sequel, and showing more of her WONDERFUL OC Cherise. The writing is phenomenal, and the story amazing. Also, the way Bee writes Wolffe is top-tier.

YESSSSS IRIS!! YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN AND SHOULD!!! I am SHAMEFULLY behind on Walk Me Home (Bee, I know you always tell me not to apologize or feel bad, but I DO AND I SWEAR I'M GONNA GET CAUGHT UP BECAUSE THIS FIC IS JUST SO GOOD). I am right there with you in that I fell in love with Bee's writing and characterization of Wolffe in NSA, and was OVERJOYED when she announced a sequel. And WMH has been everything I hoped for and more. Cherise is fantastic, but so are all of the other OCs Bee has introduced. I love EVERYTHING ABOUT IT and cannot WAIT to get caught up. Thanks for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #commander wolffe #wolffe x ofc #wolffe x oc #wolffe x original female character #OC Cherise

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years ago

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Pieces - Chapter 1

Hi everyone!

Happy 45th Anniversary to Star Wars and Kenobi eve!!!! As a contribution to the celebrations, I've decided to kick off posting of my Commander Wolffe/OFC fic 'Pieces'!

For the posting schedule, I'll aim to release fortnightly on Sundays.

Synopsis:

Having trained her whole life to keep the peace, Jedi Padawan Issa Straun is thrust into the start of the Clone Wars, expected to take command of the 104th alongside the gruff Commander Wolffe. They wade through battle after battle, trying to find their feet sharing the responsibility of leadership under Plo Koon, but what neither of their training could prepare them for was how the war would leave scars to last a lifetime.

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: M - Canon typical violence, cursing

Word Count - 6.5k

A/N: I would just like to take the chance to thank the INCREDIBLE @wild-karrde who has listened to my ramblings about this fic month after month, who has dutifully beta read all my work and dealt with my abysmal grammar and punctuation. This story probably wouldn't exist without her backing and support and I am just eternally grateful, so thank you my friend!! 💚

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Blaster fire rained down, smashing into the crates surrounding them and making the commander wince as he ducked down further to protect his head. We need a new plan to get around these sniper droids. Across the battlefield, he watched as the rest of his troops got pushed back by the enemy’s ambush, retreating for whatever cover they could find. One of the shinies was knocked to the ground as he turned his back towards the enemy for cover, his shout of pain hardly registering over the battering of blaster bolts around them.

A trickle of sweat slid down the commander’s temple beneath his helmet as he flexed his jaw at the sight of his downed trooper. Osik. “Sir, we’re pinned. Besh team can’t advance until we take out those snipers,” his sergeant’s voice crackled over their helmet comms, sounding more frustrated by the second. You and me both, the commander thought as he ground his teeth together even further while more debris showered over them from the enemy’s onslaught. The entire mission had gone aft up the second their boots hit the ground and they were faced with a much larger enemy force than intelligence had suggested.

The commander’s head cycled through images of previous battle simulations, trying to find any similar situations which could spark inspiration from the catalogue in his mind. After a few seconds, the memories behind his eyes halted on simulation 309216, one from his ARC training. We’ve got you now clankers. He felt it as his body thrummed with the pace of battle, his heart battering against his rib cage as he sucked in a few breaths before clicking on his comm.

”Alright troopers! Listen up. Aurek and Cresh teams, send out four troopers to distract the snipers, Besh will provide cover fire while the remaining groups make a break for the towers and load them with droid poppers. Any questions?”

“No sir!”

“Good. On my mark… three… two… one, NOW!”

Just as Aurek and Cresh teams made their advance, a monotonous voice cut through the blaster fight and stopped the clones in their tracks.

“SIMULATION TERMINATED.”

Immediately, the battlefield around them fritzed out of existence, leaving the troopers in a daze as the bright lights of Kamino’s training facility came back into focus once more. The soldiers present moaned at the loss of the battle, their adrenaline running high and blood boiling for the continued fight.

Their helmets snapped upwards as the speakers in the room crackled to life once more. “CC-3636, please report to Taun We’s office,” a Kaminoan’s voice boomed through the tannoy, echoing off the simulation room walls.

Wolffe looked around. He could practically feel his troopers’ excitement in the air as the realisation of what was about to happen hit everyone in the room. It’s time. Since his helmet was on, he allowed himself a smirk before addressing his men. “Looks like we’re shipping out boys.” The room erupted in cheers and whoops, brothers in arms clapping each other enthusiastically on the back as they got ready to fulfil their true purpose. With an added spring in his step, Wolffe exited the training room to find out exactly who their battalion would be assigned to.

About damn time.

—---

Issa stared intently down at the sleeve of her auburn robe. The stitching had started to come apart, leaving some loose threads dangling from the seam. She pulled at one of them but it refused to budge, causing her face to scrunch at the offending string, as if it was personally mocking her. Beside her, a modulated chuckle sounded from her Master as he placed a clawed hand over her blue one, making her pause. “Relax, little one.”

“Sorry, Master,” the Pantoran sighed, not quite understanding why she was so nervous. Well that was a bit of a lie, it was very clear why she was nervous. Preparing to meet a battalion of cloned soldiers so that she could fight in a full-scale galactic war wasn’t really an everyday occurrence for the Jedi. She looked up at the Kel Dor next to her who was peering out the side of the transport they were on. Master Plo radiated tranquillity from his every pore and Issa had never been more jealous. There was so much unknown in their future that she was unable to let her feelings flow out into the Force. What was war like? How long will we be fighting? What will the clones be like? Can I actually fight and be the leader the army needs? The list goes on. Her mind refused to be silent as each question bounced back and forth.

Trying to refocus, the young woman paid attention to her teacher once more. “Master, how are you so calm?” Issa questioned, hoping to find comfort in Master Plo’s inevitably wise words.

He turned to face her, a friendly softness around his eyes that always seemed to pull some of the weight off of her shoulders. “Because I trust in the Force, Issa. As do you. This new chapter may seem daunting and uncharted, but it is for the greater good of the galaxy, for the good of the Republic. I believe you are ready for this challenge. It will be difficult and there will be loss, but in the end, the light shall always prevail. Ensure you don’t forget that, even in the darkest of moments.” As expected, she hung off his every word. His conviction bathed her mind in a wave of calm and helped quell her spiralling nerves until they became nothing more than whispers.

“I’ll try my best to remember that,” Issa replied with a smile which finally reached her dark eyes. Plo Koon nodded, a fond look overcoming his face as she put on a determined front. Compared to other humanoid species, Kel Dors lacked the usual facial tics hinting towards what emotions they were feeling. It’d taken years of spending time with her Master, but Issa now prided herself on being able to read the minute changes in his expression behind his mask.

With a slight jolt, the transport finally came to a halt. They could already hear the hustle and bustle of the ship yard: identical voices barking orders, people dashing about, drills and hydraulics hard at work. It was time. Issa pushed the goggles on her face higher up her nose out of habit and a need to do something with her hands. Her nerves settled into the pit of her stomach once more.

“Ready, Commander?” Plo asked, his equivalent of a slight smirk evident behind his mask.

The Pantoran smiled back at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “About as ready as I’ll ever be, General”.

As they exited the shuttle, they were immediately hit with the notorious Coruscant smog. The humid and stifling air was made worse by the fumes being pumped out from the lower levels, so thick you could practically chew it. Coruscant had been Issa’s home for practically her whole life and she adored it, but the tangible atmosphere was one thing she always wished could be changed.

“Master Plo, Padawan Straun it’s good to see you both,” a voice sounded from behind them. They turned, coming face to face with Master Shaak Ti, looking as poised and elegant as ever as she made her way towards them. Her hands were clasped under the long sleeves of her cloak as she strode forwards. “Are you ready to meet your men? I must say, from my brief interactions with them so far, I believe the 104th are some of the finest soldiers the GAR have to offer. You’ve been dealt a good hand.”

“We’re pleased to hear that,” Plo replied as the pair fell in step with the Togruta. The two Masters chatted while Issa took in her surroundings with unreserved awe. The shipyard was an explosion of noise; there was always something being hammered or drilled. Amongst the racket, the smell of oil and fuel hung thick in the air, making her smile. The scent reminded her of fond times with her Master in the Temple’s shuttle bay as he taught her the ins and outs of spacecraft maintenance on his ship ‘The Blade of Dorin’. The name always did make her chuckle.

Her warm thoughts were interrupted when Master Ti asked her a question, shocking her back to the present. “Issa, how are you keeping? Are you looking forward to your new assignment?”

“I’m well Master, thank you. As for the war, I’m… ” Issa pondered what phrase would effectively communicate her current emotions, “athirst… for what may come. Wars like what we are gearing up for are things I've only read about in legend. But I am content in our decision to protect and fight for the Republic.”

“I understand your apprehension. The weight of war is a heavy one.” Issa nodded at the wise woman’s words and the trio fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. That was until Issa felt the mood shift around them in the Force, a wave of mischief passing over her from the Togruta to her left. “To prepare you for what’s to come, if you would ever like to hear a first person account from the wars of the Old Republic, I'm sure your Master would be happy to oblige.” Issa couldn’t stop herself before a bark of laughter escaped her at Shaak Ti’s deadpan jab at her Master’s age, the woman’s face remained serious until her eyes met Plo’s mask and a small smirk graced her lips.

“I see your sense of humour is as sharp as ever, Master Ti.” Plo replied with a chuckle, before grumbling under his breath. “You’ve been spending far too much time with Kit.” As their humour subsided, the Togruta continued to lead them to their meeting point.

—----------

A small transport ship lowered to reach the three of them, a gust of wind from the descent making their Jedi robes dance behind them. The bland shuttle landed with a muted clang before the doors whooshed open to reveal a Kaminoan and clone trooper.

The Kaminoan moved in almost slow motion, a strange sort of grace in the way her long limbs glided, carrying her off the transport with the clone in tow. “Welcome Jedi Master Plo Koon and Padawan Issa Straun. I am Taun We, aide to our prime minister Lama Su, and overseer of the Jedi’s cloning contract. We will be leaving the 104th battalion in your capable hands.” Taun We then moved to guide the clone forward to greet the Jedi personally. “This is CC-3636. As a Clone Commander, along with having some enhanced features in his DNA, he has undertaken extra training beyond a standard Clone Trooper, including our specialist ARC programme. His record is exemplary, and he will be a fine asset in leading your battalion.”

The soldier who stood before them wasn’t in the standard white plastoid Issa had witnessed on Geonosis. Instead he had maroon paint adorning his armour and the pattern of a wolf covered the sharp edges of his helmet. Someone's an animal fan. The patterns and colour continued down the rest of his armour, and it was all finished off with a black kama, the edges piped in a matching red-brown shade.

The commander removed his helmet before speaking, allowing the Jedi the chance to see him for the first time. Issa took the opportunity to study the man before her. Visually, he seemed to look like almost all the clone troopers she’d come across before, with his identical features and what seemed to be a regulation haircut. His presence however held something unique. His face was very no nonsense. Despite barely being a decade old, it seemed he’d furrowed his brows to the point where even if he relaxed them, two lines would forever be present between his eyes. The man’s frame was also slightly broader than the average clone, making his military stance all the more imposing.

“General Plo, Commander Straun.” The clone nodded at them each in turn as a greeting. Issa was impressed by his greeting. He’d noted how Kel Dors were to be addressed by their first name. He brushed up on his homework.

It would seem given his rank, Issa and the clone commander would be working quite closely together. The thought made Issa’s stomach do another nervous flip. CC-3636 radiated this serious and gruff attitude which contradicted everything about Issa’s own positive and excitable nature; she prayed to the Maker that they didn’t clash too badly.

“General Ti, it’s good to see you again,” the clone offered politely, pulling Issa out of her thoughts.

“Likewise Commander. I like the new look. I take it the ARC’s rubbed off on you and your brothers after all.” The Togruta smiled warmly at him, and CC-3636 changed slightly before Issa’s eyes. The coarseness surrounding him softened ever so slightly at his familiarity with Shaak Ti. With a tiny smirk of knowing, he nodded an affirmative at the woman before she continued. “I was just filling Master Plo and Issa in on how fortunate they are in being assigned your battalion.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.”

The pleasantries were interrupted by Taun We. “Master Ti, as much as I regret bringing this introduction to an end, we must continue on if we are to introduce the next battalion to the arriving Jedi.” She announced before turning to stride back towards the transport she’d only just exited from.

“Yes of course.” The Togruta turned to face the remaining people on the platform to bid them a farewell. “Master Plo, Issa, Commander, I wish you all the best. May the Force be with you.”

—

The Venator Class Star Destroyers were incredible, their size dwarfed the countless gunships housed in it’s bays, as well as casting a large portion of the humongous landing deck they were on into shadow.

The group strode up the large ramp, the commander in front as he led them onto their vessel. The sight which awaited them was something Issa probably couldn’t have prepared for. A sea of white armour which seemed to go on for miles stretched out before them as they approached. The troopers’ shiny plastoid was a stark contrast to the metallic walls that surrounded them.

The commander moved from their side and towards the ocean of soldiers. “ATTENTION!” At his order, every single one of the troopers stomped their feet together and raised a hand to their helmet in salute. The noise was thunderous, practically shaking the durasteel they stood on. CC-3636 turned back to face them, his chest puffed out with pride. “General, Commander, the 104th welcomes you to the Triumphant.” Issa tried to keep her cool, but she couldn’t help it as she gawked at the sheer number of soldiers before her. There were easily hundreds of them, all neatly stood in rows upon rows, making perfect rectangles. These were the men that would blindly follow her into battle, who would follow her orders and trust her without question. She couldn’t help it as a shiver ran up her spine at the thought of such responsibility.

With a raised hand, Master Plo stepped forward to address their men. “At ease.” His baritone resonated across the platform, the acoustics of the space replacing the need for a microphone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I am General Plo Koon and this is my Padawan and Commander, Issa Straun.” He paused for a moment, allowing Issa to provide a small nod in way of greeting to the troops. In unison, the clones shouted a chorus of “SIRS!” and moved their hands back to their sides.

And so the fun begins, Issa thought.

—

With all the soldiers and gear loaded, Issa and Plo were led on a tour of the ship by CC-3636. He walked with perfect posture in front of them both, pointing out key areas of their new home as they passed them.

The trio finally reached the bridge. As soon as they set foot into the room, all the personnel milling about immediately shot out of their seats and into salute. “General and commanders on deck!”

“At ease,” the Clone Commander announced. Around them, the clones quietly continued on with their previous tasks as if nothing happened. This is going to take some getting used to.

One of the men on deck walked up to the trio, clad in his grey Republic naval uniform. “General Plo, Commander Straun,” the new clone greeted them politely, a slight starstruck look in his eyes. He spent a second too long looking at the two Jedi before CC-3636 cleared his throat with an unimpressed look, shocking the poor trooper back into a military stance. “Uh, sorry Commander Wolffe, I’m just here to report that all the cargo has been loaded and stored as requested.” At the mention of his apparent name, the commander’s eyes widened a tiny bit. Issa dared say he looked uncomfortable, which caused her brow to furrow. Why wouldn’t he want us to hear his name?

“Very good, trooper. Report back to your station.”

After the shiny clone disappeared, Master Plo spoke up, a slight tint of concern around his eyes at what was a clear oversight on both the Jedi’s parts. “Our sincerest apologies Commander, we weren’t aware some of you had chosen names for yourselves. How would you prefer that we address you? We’d be happy to use names over your designations should you request so.” Plo offered with a kind look.

CC-36- no Wolffe, on the other hand, looked unsure as his gaze flitted between the two Jedi. “Ah, that’s really up to you, General.”

Issa stepped forward and smiled at the gruff soldier. “Well Commander, we’d like to know what you’d prefer, honestly.”

The man studied the two for a moment longer before sighing. “My name would be good, sir. It’s more efficient to use in battle than our designations I suppose.”

“Then it’s settled,” Plo declared with a slight clap of his hands. “If possible, could you please find someone to gather a list of each clone’s name and designation so that we are better able to address the men?”

Wolffe looked slightly taken aback at his request. He quickly tried to school his features back into neutrality but Issa noticed the tiny upturn on one side of his mouth. “Of course, sir.” The clone turned on his heel to pass on the request to the relevant person, leaving the Kel Dor and Pantoran standing at the heart of their new bridge. Master Plo gave her a proud look and she smiled back at him, chuffed that they’d started off on the right foot with their commander.

----

It had been a rather long and surreal morning getting settled on the Triumphant. After Wolffe concluded the tour of the ship, the three of them had begun on their more senior responsibilities, which involved being holed up in a meeting room with Plo and Wolffe for hours on end, and while she loved her Master, this entire military thing had gone from zero to a hundred very quickly, and the young Jedi could really do with catching her breath for a few moments. Thankfully, her stomach rumbled at an opportune time, causing Plo to dismiss them both to get themselves fed before they continued their planning session.

Wolffe offered to show her to the mess hall but she politely excused herself so that she could pass by the refresher first, needing a moment to herself.

Once the durasteel door hissed shut behind her, she leaned over the sink and met her own gaze in the mirror. Issa’s navy and burgundy robes were askew on her shoulders, making her frown. The traditional clothing for Jedi had its place for many reasons, but oh how she missed her own clothes. The robes were heavy and loose, sitting draped over her thin frame, nearly drowning her figure. Guess we’re not known for being style icons, but still. She always felt like a youngling in her robes, almost as if she’d never grow into them despite being fully grown for a Pantoran, and above average height at that. Her delicate hands pulled at the neckline and readjusted her belt until she was happy that everything was back in place where it should be. The long, double-ended hilt of her lightsaber caught the light as she fidgeted, making her pause. She smoothed a hand over the engraved metal, attempting to draw some emotional strength from her weapon as the kyber crystal buzzed slightly beneath her fingertips.

Now somewhat pleased with her outfit, Issa began to give the rest of herself a quick once over. Her silver hair was scruffy from where she’d been running her hand through it. That, on top of the baggy robes, was not quite the look of professional Commander she was going for. Sighing, she lifted her goggles off her head and placed them on the side so that she could undo the bun atop her head. A groan of relief escaped her as the icy strands fell from their tight style. After messing about with it, she threw half her hair back up and left half down, her Padawan braid extending beyond her shoulder length cut. Finally content with her hair, she moved to rub at the indigo indents around her eyes. Despite not being able to see her own reflection without her eyewear, she knew from years of wearing goggles that the marks were present. As she relaxed her face, her mind began to wander back to the new weight that sat on her shoulders. Commander of a battalion. Issa was curious to know if she’d ever get used to the thought of such responsibility.

Before she could get herself worked up again, she turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on her face, jarring her back into the present moment. She dried her features and pulled her goggles back on, feeling like her whole self once again as the world around her came back into focus. Issa met her own gaze in the mirror once more. “Stop stressing, Straun. You’ve got this,” she instructed her reflection with a new determination. She could do this. She just needed to go out there and be the Commander that she wanted to be. The rest would fall into place she was sure. With a quick nod to herself, Issa mustered up all the confidence she could and exited the refresher, ready to continue on her personal mission.

——

Loud chatter bounced back and forth within the mess hall walls, all the identical voices combining into an almost white noise as Issa selected her lunch from the datapad in front of her.

The Jedi grabbed her tray and studied the room around her. She was greeted with a sea of white armour and grey naval uniforms. Her heart rate picked up as nerves began to roll through her mind. She was very much the odd one out here.

Closing her dark eyes, she took a deep and steadying breath. I came in here to get to know the battalion better, so that’s exactly what I’ll do. Issa rolled her shoulders back and began to hunt for a free seat with determination.

After a bit of wandering and feeling a few stares on her back, she finally clocked an empty space.

She plonked herself down with a shy smile and a hello to the troopers around her. All the men at the table had stopped eating and instead taken to staring at her like she’d grown two heads. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Despite her confidence in herself as a Jedi, Issa couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward under the gaze of all these soldiers. She went to push her goggles up the bridge of her nose before scratching the back of her neck. “Sorry, I can go,” she muttered as she went to grab her tray and stand up again, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a pale lilac.

A quick chorus of “no no no,” rang out, and she paused half raised off her seat. A trooper with silver hair cleared his throat. “Sorry, Commander. Please sit down.” He looked at his brothers who’d taken to playing with the food on their trays. “We just weren’t expecting you to sit with us is all. But we definitely don’t mind.” His tone was sincere and he flashed a toothy smile which eased Issa’s worries. As her embarrassment faded, she sat herself back down next to the men. “So what brings you to the mess hall, sir? Other than the obvious.”

“I wanted to meet the people I’d be fighting alongside,” she said simply, tucking into her serving of pale soup. The steam from her meal caught on her goggles and fogged them up ever so slightly.

One of the others spoke up, a trooper that looked the most unique out of them all. His hair was shaved except for two stripes which ran down the centre of his head. The left side of his face from his jaw upwards was decorated in silvery scar lines, creating a delicate and intricate pattern across his skin. “But you’re a Jedi, sir. You know you don’t have to sit with a bunch of clones right?”

“Does Commander Wolffe sit with you?” At her question, the men turned to look at the clone sat at the end who she now recognised. “Ah, sorry Wolffe. Didn’t see you there.” He waved her off as he continued shovelling food into his mouth and reading his datapad. “Anyway, my point is while we may look different, we’re one battalion. I’m nothing special. I eat, sleep and breathe the same as you. I thought this might be as good a place as any to get started in getting to know one another.”

“That’s uh, nice of you sir,” the silver haired clone replied.

“You can all call me Issa while we’re having downtime if you like. I'm not quite used to the formalities just yet.” They all turned again to look at Wolffe, almost asking his permission. He shrugged as if to say they can do what they want and a few troopers at the table smiled. “Well since we’ll be using names, would you gentlemen mind telling me yours?” Issa asked.

“I’m Sinker,” the man with the silver hair stated. “That one with the dodgy hair is Boost, self proclaimed comedic genius and all round di’kut.”

“You love me really,” Boost tutted back.

“Huh, maybe you are funny actually.” Boost pouted at Sinker’s sarcasm, making Issa chuckle. Sinker next pointed to the clone whose head was buried in a datapad. The distracted man seemed to be of a slighter frame compared to the men around him. He also sported copper hair shaved short on the sides, the curls from his fringe falling into his eyes as he looked up at her. “The nerd there is Book. Kid is obsessed with learning new stuff, but he’s killer at strategising.”

The next clone had longer and messier hair which fell into soft waves framing his face and he gave her a friendly smile as Sinker continued. “This is Cloud. Not got much awareness of what’s going on around him most of the time, but he’s one of the best snipers and slicers in the GAR.” Finally he turned his gaze towards the last clone at the table. His hair was shaved off and an intricate tattoo of a Vexis sat atop his head, giving the clone a rather imposing aura. “Oh and the short one down the end opposite Wolffe is Two-Pint. In love with heavy class weapons and despite the name, can drink the entire battalion under the table.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. You clones really do have some wonderfully unique names,” Issa acknowledged.

Boost piped up with a smirk. “Well when you’ve got a million other people to compete with, you end up scrambling for options.” They continued to tuck into their food as they chatted, any awkward tension that remained from when Issa first sat down quickly dispersing, which warmed her insides far more than the soup ever could.

“Sir- I mean Issa-” Book paused, and the Jedi nodded approvingly, urging him to continue. “You’re Pantoran, correct?”

“I am.”

“I understand that Pantorans tattoo their faces with gold markings to communicate things such as family relations, wealth, social status etcetera. Might I ask what yours mean?”

“Isn’t that a little personal to ask someone, Book?” Two-Pint scolded around a mouthful of bread, sendings small crumbs flying towards Wolffe who somehow managed to frown harder at the heavy gunner.

“No it’s fine, I can understand his curiosity.” Issa smiled at the excitable clone who beamed back at her. “You’re right, Pantorans do mark their faces for those reasons, but given that I don’t really know my biological family and I don’t have many personal belongings, my markings are ones which show me being part of the Jedi Order. I’m not the first Pantoran, so my predecessors came up with a variety of meanings and designs for Pantoran Jedi to choose from. We go through a few milestones in our lives as Pantorans which grant us the honour of getting markings. Culturally, Pantoran Jedi are supposed to undertake their trials before the age of 25, within the next two years I should have most of my markings. As for the ones I have now,” she traced the two straight golden lines running vertically from her hairline to the start of her silver eyebrows, “these two represent life and the Force.” Her fingers then moved to the single line running from her bottom lip straight down her chin. “And this one symbolises the two coming together. For even in death, there is always the Force.”

Book looked enthralled as he typed away at his datapad, abandoning his lunch in favour of documenting Issa’s every word. “That’s fascinating, thank you.”

“No problem.” Issa nodded at him and a warmth spread through her chest as she watched Book’s fingers fly across his device. She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected when going to meet the clones, but something about Book’s excitement for life and information surprised her. “While we’re on the topic of physical features, can I ask you a question, Boost?” Issa looked over at the man, who nodded as he shovelled more food into his mouth. “Your hair is pretty different compared to everyone else’s. I was wondering if there was a particular reason behind it.” She saw his cheeky demeanour immediately change at her question, shifting to one of longing and remembrance.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and Issa cursed herself for asking him to relive a clearly painful memory. “The style’s called ‘the double stripe’. It’s to honour my batchmates, the squad I went through cadet training with. They all died on Geonosis.” His face was sombre as he remembered each of his closest brothers. Beside him, Sinker placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which the other man leaned into gratefully.

“I’m so sorry, Boost.”

“Ah, don’t be. They went out like heroes, which is all any of us can really ask.” He gave her a sad smile before clapping his hands together and rebuilding his mischievous persona. “Anyways, enough doom and gloom. Let’s find out more about you, Commander. What’s with the goggles?”

Issa chuckled as Boost formed two circles with his fingers and put them around his eyes to mimic her eyewear. “Nothing fancy, I just can’t see very well.” She shrugged and the men all looked at each other.

“So you’re telling us that the almighty powerful Jedi we’ve been hearing about for ten years, can have crap eyesight?”

“I’m only Pantoran, I’m not a god.”

“You’re really ruining this for us sir. I hope you know that,” Sinker explained with a sigh.

“Well I can still fight blind don’t worry. Though if Master Plo loses that mask, he can’t breathe. I’ve always carried a spare around with me just in case.” Issa rolled her eyes with fondness, while the clones just stared blankly at her as she joked.

Wolffe looked dumbfounded as he spoke up for the first time. “So between the two of you, we haven’t got one fully functioning Jedi?” Issa quickly felt the weight of the table’s gaze which made her squirm with awkwardness. Just had to stick my foot in it, didn’t I?

“I suppose not. But I’ve never seen Plo lose his mask, and I always carry spare goggles on missions, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“No offence, sir, but that doesn’t fill me with much confidence.” Without another word, Commander Wolffe grabbed his tray with an unimpressed look and left the group, his sass having cut Issa, leaving her mouth hanging slightly agape as he exited the mess.

———

Wolffe entered his new quarters as the day drew to a close. His boots clanged against the durasteel flooring as he dropped down onto his firm bunk. His room was small, more akin to a closet, but it was neat and it was private, and privacy was something he never expected to have in his life. It was a blessing and a curse to have some space to himself. On the one hand he much preferred his own time and quiet, never one for much socialising, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he wouldn’t miss the small sounds of his brothers just living around him: the snores, the laughter and the chatter. It was all he’d known for his entire life. It’ll take some getting used to.

The soldier took a moment to reflect on what would be the first day of the rest of his life. He’d finally been assigned his Jedi, and should he do his job right, they’d be the people he’d spend the war fighting alongside. General Plo Koon was one of the few Jedi he remembered from Geonosis, he didn’t fight alongside him directly, but a six foot Kel Dor on a battlefield stood out amongst the more common species within the Jedi Order. The general was mostly what he expected of a Jedi; reserved, wise and welcoming. He couldn’t put his finger on it but there was just something about the Kel Dor that put him at ease, as if a sense of knowing told him that his general would be someone he’d proudly fight alongside. Then there was the padawan, Straun. He found it interesting that while the young woman had been under the mentorship of the general for what must be years now, they were remarkably different people. She was clearly inexperienced, and cared far too much about what the men thought of her as a leader. She was quick to talk, which was a trait he didn’t favour in others usually, but she seemed to be trying at least. Wolffe supposed that her efforts were better than a removed leader who didn’t value the lives of his brothers. As commanders though, the two of them were very different, and it unnerved him that he wouldn’t really know her abilities as a leader until they were thrown into battle.

As he let out a long exhale, Wolffe’s gloved fingers unclipped his helmet from his belt and held it in his lap, the black visor staring back at him as he took in every sharp edge and line of paint across his bucket. The commander took a moment to think back on the battle of Geonosis. Those few months ago, he’d worn white plastoid armour, with only pips and yellow paint to signify his rank. Following the start of the war, the Alphas back on Kamino had taken Wolffe’s batch in and commended them on their efforts on the desert planet, for leading their brothers to their purpose to fight alongside the Jedi and defending the Republic. They’d taken them on for the new ARC training programme as an experiment and pushed them to their limits with a gruelling training regiment. There were points where Wolffe wondered if they’d make it, but in the end, all five of them survived and became the first ARC Commanders. A small smile made its way onto Wolffe’s face at the memory.

The five commanders stood in parade rest, Alpha-17 strolling in front of them, appraising his graduating students. Wolffe supposed they did look different from where they started. While the new training routine had brought out different strengths in all of them, they’d all gained more muscle mass and no longer looked as lean as the standard troopers.

“I’m pleased to announce you’ve all passed ARC training. You five are our first of many ARC Commanders. Congratulations.” 17’s face remained neutral, but underneath all the bravado, they all noticed the pride, burning like a roaring flame within him.

Wolffe held his own passive military expression, but chanced a glance at Fox next to him just as his ori’vod did the same to him. Their eyes met and the corners of their lips twitched ever so slightly. “We’ve actually done it.” the words were barely above a whisper as they fell from his lips.

The commander was brought out of his memories when his datapad began chiming next to him, the screen lighting up and pulling his attention to it.

-Command Chat Active-

Cody: so… everyone met their Jedi then?

Bly: yep

Wolffe: mhmm

Ponds: yeah!

Fox: funnily enough no I haven’t.

Cody: sarcasm just because you’re jealous Fox? It’s not a good look on you

Fox: mir’sheb

Cody: Love you too, foxy. Anyway, thoughts?

Ponds: Master Windu is awesome.

Cody: Bly, Wolffe?

Bly: … The General seems nice enough

Fox: But?

Bly: But what?

Ponds: you’re being suspenseful again Bly, just spit it out vod

Bly: Okay. But this goes nowhere as I’m trying to be a good Commander and all

Bly: but… WHY DOES MY GENERAL REFUSE TO WEAR ARMOUR. I’M GONNA GET RECONDITIONED WHEN SHE INEVITABLY GETS SHOT :’(

Fox: Well, seems this Jedi business isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

Wolffe: You want to talk about armour?! How about both my Jedi having major physical impairments?! One can’t breathe in most atmospheres and the other can’t kriffing see! They’re walking target practice for the clankers.

Cody: at least you haven’t got to deal with the Padawan from hell

Bly: don’t act like you’ll actually deal with him. We all know you’re gonna put that on Rex.

Cody: it’s called delegating, it’s what good commanders do ori’vod

Cody: at least General Kenobi seems sane enough.

Wolffe: I dunno, didn’t he teach the special one? His recklessness has to stem from someone

Ponds: *the chosen one

Wolffe: dork

Cody: … you make an excellent point

Fox: about the general or Ponds?

Cody: both

Ponds: :(

Cody: General Kenobi is going to turn out crazy isn’t he?

Ponds: they’re not called the disaster lineage for nothing

Cody: THEY’RE CALLED THE WHAT?!

Ponds: hmm maybe I shouldn’t have shared that

Bly: *gasp* Is General Windu a gossip?!

Ponds: I can neither confirm nor deny

Fox: Ponds got the best General. The rest of you are probably going to die. It was nice knowing you.

Cody: I’d tell him to Kriff off but he’s probably right

Wolffe: eh I’ll do it anyway. Kriff off shabuir

Fox: bite me ad’ika <3

—-Fox renamed the chat to CC’s Anonymous—-

Ponds: Seems appropriate

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