#the clone troopers were wasted

[mis-mcgifsten]

Every word a bitter truth.

Most tragic story in all of star wars has to be the story of the clones.

Created as weapons for genocide and mass destruction, seen as nothing more than property except by the people they were programmed to destroy. And casted aside and terminated as soon as they were deemed obsolete.

Except we see in the clone wars that they were people. They had individual personalities and dreams, they built friendships and relationships. Showed creativity and ART (on their armor) and they were fiercely protective of the people they loved.

Only to have that wiped away by something they were forced to do. That they had no control over. And that many of them regretted for the rest of their lives.

Do you think Bly cried and wailed once he realized what he'd done to Aayla?

Do you think Wolffe screamed in rage and pain once the effects of the order wore off? And he had to confirm Plo's death by looking for his corpse?

Do you think Cody looked at himself every day for the rest of his life and hated himself for what he'd done?

Do you think Rex ever stopped hating himself for not listening to Fives. Or for what he was almost forced to do to Ahsoka?

How many of the clones couldn't take that guilt?

How many of the clones mourned their loss of agency, the loss of their friends , and generals?

That is why to me, their story is the biggest tragedy in all of star wars. And you will never change my mind.

[stellarbit]

Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba. 

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out. 

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water. 

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left. 

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down. 

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached. 

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start. 

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped  to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

*

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers. 

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town. 

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade. 

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man.  “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.” 

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?” 

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died. 

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors. 

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders. 

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be  awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered. 

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear. 

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them. 

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

[adh-d2]

So, THAT Clone X trooper...

is 100% definitely, undoubtedly Tech, yeah?

I mean, physically/literally:

His accent is different under the voice modulation

I stg those pained grunts as he lifted the stones were pure Tech

He runs in Creature Posture

The pocketses

He still doesn't give a fuck about following orders

But also narratively:

The lingering closeups whenever he's about to act in regard to the Batch. Is it consideration? Hesitation? They sure want us to wonder.

The story's repeated emphasis on Crosshair being able to anticipate his moves, and the way they match each other beat for beat the whole way down.

The fucking intimacy of the way he almost kills Crosshair. I mean the whole physicality of the fight, but especially the way Clone X had to stare into his eyes while he drowned him.

Why, as a writer, would you waste those story beats on someone who had no personal significance to the Batch? You just wouldn't.

[miss-musings]

When I say S3 Crosshair was speed-running Hunter’s Dad arc from S1-2, this is what I’m talking about:

They’re the only CF99 members Omega has a one-on-one conversation with in 1.01 "Aftermath"

Both help her escape danger at an evil cloning facility, thanks to unseen assistance from Nala Se (1.01 and 3.03)

Both make a choice to go back for her instead of securing their own freedom (1.01 and 3.04)

Both initially try to send her away, reasoning she'll be better off without them in her lives (1.02 and 1.15)

Both initially tell her to stay away from them for her own sake, but she persists and eventually wins them over (1.01 and 3.01)

Both are mistaken as her dad by other characters (2.13 and 3.04)

Due to Omega's influence/impact on their lives, both of them become open to trying new things. For Hunter, it's things like treasure-hunting and settling down on Pabu. (2.05 and 2.13) For Crosshair, it's things like bribing/hustling people instead of shooting them, and meditating for peace of mind. (3.04 and 3.08)

In S1, Hunter and Omega average one meaningful one-on-one conversation per episode. In S3, Crosshair and Omega average one meaningful one-on-one conversation per episode.

Parallel scenes of her copying their body language, facial expressions and personal quirks (1.01 and 3.06)

Parallel scenes of them checking on her physical and emotional well-being after she’s been in danger (1.09 and 3.07)

Parallel scenes of them watching helplessly as Omega is taken away by an Imperial ship (2.16 and 3.11)

Parallel scenes of Hemlock torturing them after they tried to protect Omega (2.14 and 3.15). FUN FACT: Hunter and Crosshair are the only two CF99 members Hemlock ever talks to.

Parallel scenes of Omega convincing them to let her endanger herself for the greater mission of finding Tantiss: “I need to do this, Hunter” (3.05) VS. “Focus on the bigger mission, Crosshair.” (3.11) In both cases, they are initially unwilling to go along with her plan bc they fear for her safety, but they both ultimately agree to support her brave and selfless decision.

Parallel scenes of Omega purposely endangering herself by attacking her captor, but she has complete confidence that Hunter and Crosshair will save her in 2.10 and 3.15, respectively.

Parallel scenes of Omega absolutely gagging them: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?” (1.12) VS. “I never gave up on you, did I?” (3.09) FUN FACT: Hunter and Crosshair are even sitting in the same seat on the Marauder in both scenes!!

As someone else pointed out here, parallel scenes/lines of them aiming their guns at someone threatening to take Omega away and saying, “Not happening.” (1.13 and 3.09)

Parallel lines like: “You’re wasting your time — they’ll never turn her over” VS. “Omega’s not going anywhere with you.” (2.14 and 2.16)

Hunter when he tries to send Omega with Cut and Suu: “You have to go, Omega. It’s for your own good.” VS. Crosshair when he tries to have her captured and sent off Kamino: “It’s for her own good, and yours.” (1.02 and 1.15)

Hunter when Cad Bane is after her: “Omega, get behind me.” (1.08) VS. Crosshair when CX-2 and Imperial troopers are after her: “Stick by my side and stay down.” (3.07)

Hunter telling the others to leave him on Daro and Omega protesting in 1.14 VS. Crosshair telling the others to leave while he fights CX-2 and Omega protesting in 3.07. (And, in both cases, she literally had to be pulled away by other “co-parent” in Echo and Hunter, respectively.)

Hunter made a “deal with the devil” in the Devaronian matriarch to try to find Omega in 3.02. Then Crosshair made a deal with a different type of devil in Rampart to find her in 3.12. (And they were both 1,000% done with their respective devils: “We heard your syndicate had the connections needed to find the Imperials’ base, and since we’ve upheld our end of the bargain, now it’s your turn.” VS “We got you off the planet, now tell us where Tantiss is.”)

The first time Hunter ever fully hugs Omega is in 3.04, after she escapes Tantiss the first time. (To clarify: she had hugged him a few times before, but he hadn't really hugged her back.) VS. The first time Crosshair ever hugs Omega is in 3.15 after she escapes Tantiss the second time.

Crosshair telling Hunter in 3.05, "You let Omega be taken to Tantiss. She went through what she did because you failed" ... only for Crosshair to be in the EXACT same situation himself later in S3.

Also, let’s never forget that moment in 3.07 when Crosshair went full Helicopter Parent™️, and Omega said, “You’re as bad as Hunter!” Like, even Omega thought Crosshair was turning into a dad! 😂

Also, after he fully reintegrates into the family at the end of 3.05, Crosshair basically becomes Hunter's "co-parent."

There are several scenes where they are paired together to talk about Omega's safety or something, while Wrecker is elsewhere. (And even when Wrecker is there, the shots tend to focus more on Hunter and Crosshair, like when they find Batcher barking on the beach in 3.09.)

Of course, this all culminates in the final confrontation with Hemlock on the bridge. I don't think Hunter or Crosshair could've navigated that situation alone, especially given their injuries and how high-stakes it was. They HAD to do it together, which has been their approach since 3.05: "Not alone. We'll do it together."

(UPDATE: I go over some of these points more in my CrossDad Episode Rankings post. Give it a read, if you haven’t already!)

[mis-mcgifsten]

Truly Skeevy Sheevie's plan to both use and destroy the Jedi, by drafting them into roles they were not suited to and by not utilising his super soldiers properly is very in line with how scheming and devious a politician he was. The troopers should have been in charge, so of course it's toxic arse holes like Tarkin who are put in the heirachy above them. Jedi would be fantastic at special ops and independent free roving roles where vibe check could be used most effectively so of course Palpy won't let them be used that way. Say what you like about old Brian he really knew how to maximise misery and set things up to fail in ways that benefited his grand sith plan.

it's fucking crazy to me how high-ranking obi-wan is during tcw. letting this guy spearhead an ATTACK BATTALION is like handing dwight d eisenhower a rifle and a bangalore and letting him storm the beaches of normandy himself. absolutely batshit INSANE

[inkformyblood]

in all the wrong order (CWFKB25)

Kiss of life @codywanfirstkissbingo 'Civilian' Medic Obi-Wan x Trooper Cody, Canon Divergence. Same AU as this fic from last year!

Cody blinks up at the man straddling his torso, his breath ragged but there and that was an improvement over five minutes ago. “Just throw me straight back into the river. Please.”

The medic, because he couldn’t be anything else with the speed he had thrown himself after Cody, down the embankment, just laughs, folding forward to press his forehead to Cody’s chest. There’s a moment of respite, something Cody desperately needs and is rarely offered even when he’s recovering from lightly dying, and he grabs at it with both hands. 

There’s a faint tremor in the mud beneath him, the deliberate footsteps of some mechanical behemoth echoing through the network of tunnels that carve through this planet like a network of veins. On one side, the river thunders past, a faint spray spattering onto Cody’s bare skin, exposed through the tears in his blacks, the spaces where his plastoid armour had buckled beneath the strain. The water’s dark, mud and silt streaked through it from higher ground, higher battlefields, and Cody tips his head to one side to spit out the overwhelming brackish taste in his mouth. It wouldn’t be suitable for drinking for weeks, something they’d need to keep in mind if the campaign dragged out any longer. 

“Dying men don’t usually have such a good sense of humour,” the medic says as he straightens, making no move to shift from his perch across Cody’s hips. He’s dressed strangely, no armour like the clones had come to expect from civilians and their Jedi leadership, but his tunic is dark and reinforced, belted at the slight divot of his waist. There’s a patch sewn onto his left shoulder, a symbol Cody doesn’t know but recognises all the same.

Cody shrugs as best as he can. His fresh collection of injuries is beginning to claw against his nerves once more, a shrieking line down one thigh, a complimentary chorus high in the knotted muscle of his shoulder. “Maybe I’m the exception. You should throw me back in the river, just to be safe.”

The medic pouts, honest to the stars, pouts, his eyes impossibly blue as the expression wavers into a grin that’s slightly too wide, too many teeth on display. “Am I so terrible that you keep trying to get away from me?”

“Not you.” Cody tries to grab at one of the pouches on his belt and runs into the immediate problem of the man’s thigh. The other man is warm, surprisingly so given that the clones run several degrees hotter than the galaxy at large, and Cody doesn’t draw his hand back immediately. 

There’s some minor blood loss happening, he’ll blame that. 

The medic laughs once more, softer this time, and he shifts his weight sideways completely, settling himself to kneel next to Cody. The mud squelches beneath his calves, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he fights back a shudder. It’s a strangely familiar gesture and it takes Cody a moment to place where he’s seen it before, his thoughts unspooling back to Kamino. There would be machinery in place for the same tasks they were set — refilling the growth media for the tubies, emptying the waste tanks that lurk in the lower levels, an endless moving of crates from one storage room to another — but it had been their tasks to complete, an extension of the contract that had brought them into existence. They would wear the same expression the medic does, a stubborn insistence on their place in the universe being there and now.

“So,” the medic prompts, cupping his fingers just beneath Cody’s chin and turning his face towards him. “If it’s not me, then what is the hurry?” He repeats the gesture on the opposite side of Cody’s chin, turning his face away, and Cody allows the motion, an aching helplessness coring into the hollows of his bones. 

“I have some questions for you first.” Cody reaches for the pouch on his belt once more, unimpeded this time by strange medics fishing clones out of the river. The fabric is still damp, the supposed waterproof coating doing worse than nothing as it holds the water stationary and freezing until Cody disturbs it, soaking his hand and into his blacks beneath. His spare com lights up as he draws it free, a distinct chirp emitting as it begins to connect to the network boosters in his armour. Those, at least, should be more waterproof than the rest of him. Karking intel and the gaps big enough to pilot a ship through. 

The medic looks delighted. 

The universe must have a strange fascination with Cody to have him so thoroughly dissected down to the impulses humming through his veins and then to throw this man at him. 

Cody’s helmet is a distant memory as he pushes himself upright, mud cloying and thick at his back, the medic leaning forward to support him. There’s the lingering scent of iron as he does so, heavy enough to coat Cody’s tongue and he swallows back a tang of bile. On his mouth, his lips, there’s a faint taste of something else beneath the sour brackish water. He didn’t think this planet had anything that could be classed as floral vegetation, just the standard creeping vines that hide droids and cliffs alike. Cody focuses on the man next to him instead of how exposed he feels, a wound freshly tore open with his face bare. 

“What’s your name?” Cody asks, hooking the com over his ear. It’s still connecting, a low whirr poking against the side of his skull, but he can ignore it for the moment, letting the sound wash over him like the distant rush of the river and the ping of blaster fire high above him. 

“Call me Ben. Ben Kenobi.” Ben smiles, lopsided once more, his eyes focused on Cody’s face. 

That’s not entirely a lie, enough of the truth for it to feel solid beneath the thin veneer of paint and flimsiwork. When they’d first left Kamino and been exposed to the universe at large, emotions had been tricky to read on natborns. Harder still from humanoids who shared the same basic framework they all did, noses thinner or broader, brows thicker or thinner or non-existent, because they didn’t look right, they didn’t match how a brother would look. There’d been training packages upon training packages about their weaponry, simulations for every kind of battlefield and ambush scenario, but nothing about what it meant if a natborn bares their teeth and keeps their eyes wide, the disgust that could be transmitted with barely more than a twitch of muscles in the cheek.

So, Cody learnt.

It wasn’t easy, but Cody is exactly who had been made to be and everything he had torn from the fabric of the universe to be his, so he rose above it, gasping and choking but surviving. 

Ben lies with a smile, nearly as easily as the other man breathes, and even the knowing is more of a feeling than anything Cody can project onto the wall of the ship and circle in red paint. ‘Kenobi’ is a ridiculous enough name that it would be easy to find on the holonet or any semi-functioning database that the Senate could construct so that would be the best choice to lie about, except this man, this ridiculous civilian medic who is the middle of an active warzone and throws himself after a random clone who made one misjudgement on the steepness of a mountain, isn’t lying about it. 

“Good to meet you, Ben,” Cody says. He holds out his hand, biting back a laugh at the situation he has fallen into. There would be a new section of the training module because of him, he’s sure of it. “I’m Cody.”

Ben’s hand is warm against Cody’s. A thick band of calluses spans the base of his fingers and a ridge indents the line of his thumb, the placement familiar enough to the medics Cody is used to. 

“What are you doing here, Ben?” Cody maintains his grip on Ben’s hand, shifting slightly to press his fingertips against the delicate network of veins at his wrist. His pulse is strong, steady, 

and Cody hopes a foolish desire that it stays like that. It isn’t often that he meets beautiful strangers who aren’t trying to kill him, his brothers, or the Jedi General he has been assigned to because Alpha-17 has a scar in the shape of Cody’s teeth on his forearm. 

Ben brushes his free hand over his thigh, smearing a line of dark mud over the paler fabric. “I’m a medic and I can be helpful here. Otherwise, I go where the universe calls me.” His grin sharpens, some old hurt passing just beneath the surface before it’s submerged once more. 

“Admirable,” Cody murmurs. His comm ticks into the second stage of transmitting, the whirr sharpening into a series of clicks as it begins to connect with the secure channels. Not long now before he will need to be on the move again, unknown medics or not. “What did you do after you pulled me out of the river?”

“What do you remember last?” Ben leans forward, his gaze locked onto Cody’s face. It’s a deliberate study like Ben is trying to catalogue the minutiae that would distinguish Cody from his brothers in every way except for relying for the scar that curls around his eye and crosses over his temple. 

Cody can’t remember ever being looked at like that.

“There was a hollow beneath the vines, packed full of the things so it read as solid on the scan and from a quick visual assessment.” Cody shrugs, the motion pulling at the jagged line of his ribs, the torn-open crevasses of his armour. “It made my descent faster than intended and I landed in the river.”

All of the currently active clones could swim. It had been a near necessity given the crumbling ruins of Kamino’s towers, the lower levels with only rusting hatches between the faux sterile quarters allocated to the early batches and the ocean outside. 

Ben’s answer is conversational, a gentle remark as if it is nothing more impactful than the weather being discussed. “You landed in the main current with stunning accuracy. A few more moments or if you hadn’t been as strong a swimmer and you would have been lost to the river before I could even try to help you. For your records, you were unconscious and not breathing when I pulled you out so I performed manual breathing to get the water out of your lungs.”

“Manual breathing?”

Ben’s smile softens slightly, his gaze wandering away from Cody to the river as his cheek indents making the expression lopsided. “It’s also called the kiss of life.”

Cody blinks. There is definitely not a training module for this situation. 

“It does seem like we are doing everything out of order,” Cody murmurs, squeezing Ben’s hand once more before he releases the other man. “You kiss me before you even know my name.”

Ben huffs out a quiet laugh, covering his face with both hands. His grin is just visible through the gap between his hands, some relief from an ancient table given flesh and warmth, and Cody wants a kiss he can remember. Ben speaks from behind his fragile cover, his eyes glinting at Cody behind the bars of his fingers, “I will confess to some curiosity as to why you threw yourself into the river in the first place.”

The decision had been tactically sound at the time but now, with a few mouthfuls of river water coating his stomach and Ben’s attention finally tuned, the explanation felt fragile, easily dismissed. Cody’s shoulders lock into place, his hands still in his lap, his posture sure and perfect once more. It hurts, a dull twist through exhausted muscles, but he had been made for this.

In his ear, his comm hums, connecting to every feed thrown over the planet and the few fragile connections snaking their way back to Coruscant. One channel flickers, demanding his attention, and Cody opens it with a blink, scanning over the furious contents. 

“Battlefield tactics,” he answers Ben, beginning to push himself upright. “Small difference of opinion on the quickest way back to the ship following an engagement and I’ve just won.”

“You nearly died,” Ben murmurs, but there’s no heat behind his words, no righteous fury to shake the stars from the sky, just an understanding. He must have siblings of a sort as well. 

Mud clings to Cody’s thighs, his back, his hips, his blacks near unsalvageable as it begins a slow conquest through the seams of his armour, the dented hollows from blaster bolts. It’s cold, not unlike the river, and Cody curls his hands into fists, squeezing them tight until it aches. 

“From here, it’s a straight ride down the river to your ship,” Ben says, pushing himself to his feet. It’s an infinitely more graceful endeavour than Cody could aspire to, the mud seeming to be repelled from him while it clings to every inch of Cody. “Would you like me to throw you in as requested or are you going to jump?”

Cody chews his cheek, the dull pressure echoing against the whirr of the com. Another message flickering through the channel from Rex, deliberately low quality and it would be a nondescript image to anyone else — a tangle of vines with bright purple leaves protruding from the central mass, slightly blurred due to the movement of the camera — and Cody flicks a message back to him, his eyes twitching minutely to activate the keys. 

In addition to the vines that cocoon every inch of this planet, there’s an unusual interference that messes with their automated navigation systems in their helmets. Cody, as a benevolent commander and older vode, did not remind Rex of this fact before he spent the better part of their competition heading in the wrong direction. Any active assaults are, thankfully, on the other side of the planet even if the vibrations can still be felt.

“If you are heading to our base, I could travel with you?” Cody’s voice doesn’t tremble, he’s a good soldier, tries to be a good man in whatever framework the clones have claimed for themselves. Mysterious and a security risk as Ben may be, it’s a battlefield that envelops this planet, and the other man is neither Jedi or Trooper.

Something shutters behind Ben’s eyes, a fierce wanting banked in the same moment of its creation. He’s hungry for something Cody can’t name but denies himself it in the same motion. “I’ll have to decline, my dear. I have some unfortunate history with your General.”

Understandable. Cody had his own unfortunate history with his General. Qui-Gon’s reputation as a maverick was well-earned and only faltered minutely when impacting against Cody’s plans and procedures and enough flimsiwork to drown in. 

“I can appreciate that,” Cody remarks dryly. Ben laughs once more, brushing his hand through his hair and frowning at the likely damp sensation of it.

“If you could, would you give him a message?”

“I’m not kissing him,” Cody answers immediately.

Ben recoils, an expression of wonderous horror splashed over his features before he collects himself. His shoulders twitch as he breathes out through his nose, his hands clasped in front of him. “A normal message, I promise, Cody. Could you tell him—“ Ben’s mouth flattens into a line, any expression on his face smoothed over into a perfect, placid nothingness. There’s a few statues scattered around the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and one of them impacts against Cody’s thoughts now, a weather worn curve of stone from a planet that no longer existed but somehow still resonates the same weary hesitation that Ben emits, the need to act when the desire has fled. 

“Tell him that Kenobi says hello. Please, Cody?”

“Of course,” Cody replies. 

There is little else to be said with their parting and Cody makes his way to the riverbank, pausing on the soft sloping edge. Spray impacts his cheeks, reality beginning to come back into focus once more. He turns back to Ben, a slight figure with the bottom of his tunic stained with mud, his hair dishevelled from the press of his fingers, and Cody presses his fingers to his mouth. He breathes once against them, his very lungs sore but manageable, and extends them to Ben before he jumps into the river. It’s only slightly fancy, tucking himself into a roll before he extends out with the minimal space he has, entering the water with barely a splash to distrust the sound of Ben’s laughter.

Qui-Gon is waiting for him as Cody makes his way into their camp a few hours ahead of Rex, with a spare set of blacks slung over his shoulder.

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” he says in answer to Cody’s raised eyebrow.

Cody shucks his armour quickly, peeling the damp blacks from his frame and drawing on the fresh set. One sleeve is frayed, a thin tear sewn up and beginning to come apart once more, and Cody worries at it as he redresses in his armour. “Got a message for you, General,” he says finally, rocking back into a wide stance, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Oh?” 

“Kenobi says hello.”

Cody isn’t Force-sensitive, less than even the baseline they tested all of the clones with, but he senses something crack in Qui-Gon’s demeanour, some old hurt shattered so it can heal properly.

“Did he now?” Qui-Gon murmurs, clasping his hands in front of himself and walking back towards the centre of camp. Cody doesn’t follow him immediately, turning back to stare into the tangle of vines and partially exposed hills he had emerged from. He hopes Ben is looking back at him. 

[green-alm0nd]

Bad Batch reacting to female reader saving their life

[The Bad Batch x fem!reader (headcanons)]: Saving their life

----

----

Summary:

Your favourite batcher is cornered, you save their life and their true feelings might show up.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mild mentions of injury and blood, near death experiences, season 1 Crosshair, badass reader, fluff. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: I hope you like it anon ^^

----

HUNTER:

He's surprised, relieved, worried and grateful at the same time.

His heightened senses had failed him at some point in the battle, too overwhelmed to react.

He was backed into a corner, surrounded by protocol droids, about to shoot him.

He was injured and his vibroblade had been tossed away. He was couldn't defend himself in any way.

That's when you came in, shooting the protocol droids rapidly, not giving them time to react.

You had truly saved him. In a time where he was not able to defend himself.

You approached him, and helped him out, wrapping an arm below his shoulders to help him walk.

He stared at your determined face, panting heavily due to the exhaustion and the adrenaline.

For a split second, his heart rate sped up, and his cheeks turned a slight pink tint. Thankfully, his tattoo covered half of it.

ECHO:

If this man wasn't already in love with you, he definitely fell harder for you when you saved his life.

Imperials were backing him into a corner, and he wasn't able to use his blaster, as one shot from him meant all shots would be directed at him.

He was starting to lose hope, yet he didn't want to surrender. He didn't want to let his brothers down.

That's when you came in, running and setting explosives on their backs.

The Imperials started shooting at you, yet you were too quick and stealthy.

This gave Echo an opening that he didn't waste, and ran to take cover.

Once the troopers were all out, you headed back to where Echo was, and helped him out.

He wants to say thank you yet can't since you're hurrying back to the Marauder and his words seemed to die on his tongue.

It wasn't new that Echo had made clear he was into you. Now, he made it more obvious by returning the favour and saving you, whenever you needed to be saved on a mission.

WRECKER:

He was so surprised that you saved him he couldn't manage to say anything at first.

BUT, he felt so proud and so happy that you saved him when he was surrounded by tactical droids he wasn't afraid to show you how grateful he was.

The droids had him cornered, and he knew they were called tactical droids for a reason, so he had to hold back his urge to shoot or blow everything up.

They were getting closer, and there was nothing he could do.

His shoulder was bleeding and he had taken a pretty bad shot on the side of his torso, too.

He would've been dead if you hadn't set explosives to cause a distraction and make an opening for him to defeat the droids.

Back to back, you both stunned and shot all tactical droids. He was injured, yes. But he could still use his blaster.

Inside the Marauder, once he's patched up, he will awkwardly approach you and than you for saving him on that tough spot.

But the awkwardness wouldn't last forever, since you got free hugs forever since then, apart from a man that loves you with all his heart.

TECH:

He wouldn't admit you saved him, he called it a lucky shot.

But you knew better, and you knew it was hard for him to swallow his own pride.

This smart clone wasn't always so smart. And one of the reasons why was because he thought of too many things at the same time and he did not see the blast that came at him.

Thankfully, you were to save the day, as you were able to take the shit for him, landing on your arm. You quickly pushed the trooper away, stunning him, before turning to look at Tech.

He was looking at you as if you had just revived him from the dead. He was so surprised, and it was odd for him to accept that you had been smarter than him.

That hurt him deeply, even though it was nothing to worry about. He was still the smart, calm and collected clone with mutations. Yet you outsmarted him that time.

"I could have easily avoided that by adverting their attention to something else. I had already thought of a few ideas as to what to do. That way, you couldn't have-"

"Hey, Tech?" You asked, wiping a piece of cloth over the wound, applying pressure on it.

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping"

Not to worry, though. This man loves you, and sometimes tried to get closer to you ever since that day.

CROSSHAIR:

You thought you were getting a 'thank you'. Hah, no chance.

There was no way this handsome man would admit you saved him. He refused to. He had too much pride to accept it.

He acted tough, angry that you had been able to see better than him at that moment, and that irritated him.

At first, he ignored you, not wanting to talk to you after that day. He pushed you away.

Little did he know, that his anger came from deep admiration.

Even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, it was true that you had thrown yourself in front of that group of droids and came to aid. It was extremely brave of you.

After the first week or two, he relaxed, and accepted you by doing small acts of service.

He accepted you saved his life.

And little by little, he truly warmed up to you to eventually thank you.

----

I'll probably edit Crosshair's part tomorrow, it's very late where I am and I'm truly sleepy.

[whos-starr]

Gone

Summary: What if it all went wrong? What if Hemlock got away with Omega? What if our heroes didn’t get the happy ending they did? If there’s one thing I can tell you, it’s that it doesn’t end well.

Word count: 1924

Notes: Break-it fic!!! Saw someone make a post about wanting a fic where everything goes wrong so here it is!!! I’ve been wanting one of these too but it ended up being a “fine I’ll do it myself” thing. It’s a quick one-shot, but here ya go hope you enjoy!

Tag list: @mantellmix @twinsunstars

The doors opened to a long catwalk, leading to a small landing platform. It was just large enough for a small fighter. Hemlock dragged Omega along, having lost nearly all his patience. And Omega knew it. His base was wrecked, his data gone, his CX troopers were unable to help him anymore.

“But I still have you.”

And that’s what haunted Omega as she struggled against the binders holding her and Hemlock together as he walked along the catwalk, towards the landing platform. His commander was right behind her. Scorch, was that his name? Omega had heard his voice before. He sounded like a clone. Omega didn’t want to believe he was a clone. Who would serve the very man causing so much pain to his brothers?

Hemlock looked at the small keypad in his hand, the one he tore off the CX operative that had been continuously following Omega and her brothers. He tapped a few of the buttons, then looked out almost triumphantly at the rainy skies. It was pouring, and Omega’s hair stuck to her face. From the clouds and rain came a familiar ship. It was black and red, and was a sleek new design. Omega had only seen a ship like it once before. It belonged to that same CX operative. It was the ship she’d been taken here on after she surrendered on Pabu.

Hemlock kept walking, his pace increasing as the ship landed. He was wasting no time. He stopped in front of the ship’s ramp and looked back for a moment at Scorch.

“Make sure no one follows us.” He said, the anger evident in his voice. Scorch nodded and took a charge out from his belt. He primed it and threw it back along the catwalk. Omega watched as it hit the metal ground and exploded. The ground she was on shook a bit, and she looked back up at the explosion as she stabilized herself. There was a giant gap in the catwalk now, separating the base exit from the landing platform. She took one last look before Scorch walked inside the ship and Hemlock followed, dragging her with. She pulled back again, and reached for the small dental tool hidden in her sleeve. She went to stab at Hemlock with it, desperate for any escape. But Hemlock held her arm back and ripped the tool out of her hand. He tossed it away and glared at her.

“I’ve had enough of this. Stun her.”

Hunter opened the doors, tired and injured and only thinking of Omega. He could tell Crosshair was the same. The doors opened to show what used to be a perfectly serviceable catwalk, now in two pieces. The side they were on, and the side where a ship sat ready to take off. He saw Hemlock, Scorch, and Omega in front of the ship’s ramp. Hunter crouched down on the catwalk, the rain blurring his view. He felt Crosshair rest his blaster on his shoulder. Scorch shot Omega with a stun blast, and she fell to the ground. Hemlock released the part of the binders on his arm, and put it on Omega. Scorch hit the switch on his blaster to revert it back to kill, and aimed at Hunter. Hemlock whispered something to him, and then entered the ship. Scorch kept the blaster aimed at Hunter and Crosshair with one hand, and dragged Omega inside the ship with the other. Hunter had enough. He shot at Scorch, anger fueling him. But between the torture earlier and the rain now, his vision was blurred and his senses overloaded. Crosshair went to shoot as well, with only a bit more accuracy than Hunter. Both wanted to fight for Omega, to get her back, and were willing to do anything. But they just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Scorch, spooked by the blaster shots, hurried inside the ship with Omega and closed the ramp. The ship began taking off. No. Hunter shot at the engines. The shields were already up. No. Crosshair stood and shouted something Hunter didn’t hear. No. Hunter had been here before. Six months ago on Ord Mantell, when he’d watched that shuttle fly away above him with Omega. No. Crosshair had been here before. Just a few days ago when he’d missed his shot at the operative’s ship. No. The ship flew away, up into the atmosphere and into hyperspace. No. No. No.

Omega woke up, she didn’t know how long she’d been out. She had hoped with all her might that seeing Hunter and Crosshair meant she would be safe. But as she opened her eyes, she only saw the familiar red and black walls of the operative’s ship. She noticed her hands were cuffed now, and she was sitting in the back of the ship. She looked around and saw Hemlock sitting in the pilot’s seat, aimlessly looking out at the blue streaks of hyperspace. Scorch was in the co-pilot’s seat, but was turned around and watching Omega. Of course. Hemlock would know better than to leave her unattended now. But she would still find a way out. It didn’t matter what prison he put her in, or whatever other place he had in store. She could escape. She would escape.

Or so she hoped.

Hunter sat in the cockpit of the Remora, just staring at the buttons on the console. Rex and what was left of the rebel clones showed up on Tantiss shortly after Hemlock had gotten away. They picked up Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair. Echo went on an Imperial shuttle with the clone prisoners.

Wrecker was laying on the floor, now with more med-patches and a monitor on his heartbeat. The monitor made slow, repeated beeps in the background. He’d been hit hard in the fight, between the creature in the jungle and the fight with Hemlock’s operatives.

Crosshair was sitting on a bench near the holotable. Howzer was sitting with Crosshair, attending to where his hand used to be. Rex was sitting in the cockpit next to Hunter. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up.

“…I’m sorry.” He said. Hunter glanced up at him, and sighed.

“Me too.” He replied. He really had nothing to say. He’d lost Omega. For a third time. He didn’t even get to see her before she was taken away again. The last time he’d properly talked with her was when Pabu was being invaded. And he wouldn’t ever talk with her again. Hemlock was off to who knows where, nobody had any leads on his location, and Hunter had almost no will to do anything at this point.

He was ready to give up. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should carry on for Omega. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt like such a failure. It was his job to protect her. He knew he was her brother, but more often than not he felt like a father. He felt responsible for her. He’d failed her. He’d failed himself. He’d failed his squad. Crosshair was right. Clone Force 99 died with Tech. But it took losing Omega for Hunter to see it.

Echo stood at a holotable, pouring over files and various information. It had been several years since Omega was taken. Maybe ten, now? Had it really been that long?

Echo was alone in the room. He’d kept the small Clone Rebellion alive, but it was getting harder every day. Clones were dying all around him, whether to the Empire or because the accelerated aging was catching up to them. He’d lost Howzer just a few months ago. But Wolffe had come to join them, not very long after the escape on Tantiss. He, Gregor, and Rex had gone off on a mission about a year ago. They never came back. And so Echo was left alone, running the rebellion and trying to find Omega. Hunter had given up entirely. Wrecker was kept busy with trying to get Hunter’s spirits up. Crosshair had decided to stay out of everything, and kept to himself nowadays.

Echo examined a file. Nothing. Nothing, day after day. Where could someone go in the galaxy where they could never be found?

Hemlock walked down the dark gray hallways of the Deero base. Deero was a nice place, by Hemlock’s standards. A small, rocky planet that was on the absolute edge of the outer rim. No one could find it. Besides that, it didn’t have much to offer. But it worked. Hemlock had built this new base underground, deep within the depths of the planet. The entrances were hidden above ground, and all landing pads were under rocks or hidden behind the natural formations of the planet. And the constant dust storms above ground kept scanners from seeing anything. He wasn’t making any mistakes with this base.

Hemlock set his datapad into the scanner and input his code. The blast doors opened and he walked into the second hallway, guarded by several ray shields. It was a similar construction to the Vault on Tantiss, but, of course, with added security measures.

Omega had been…troublesome, to say the least, when they first arrived at the base. When he left Tantiss, he went to the secondary facility on Daro where he was able to contact the Emperor and explain the situation. Lucky for him, he was the Emperor’s favorite and wasn’t blamed too heavily for the incident. But the Emperor never fully forgave. Hemlock’s climb to Scientific Minister had been slowed, but he was sure it would come soon.

Soon after, the Deero base was built and Omega was transferred there. She’d attempted to break out multiple times, getting very far on multiple occasions. But, a simple fix was easily administered. Simple, but effective.

Hemlock came to the end of the ray shielded hallway and input his code a second time. The second set of blast doors opened, revealing the main lab. His assistants and employees were bustling about, attending to their tasks and examining test results. They went around their stations, exchanging work and comparing data. In the middle of the room was a large glass capsule, filled with bacta. And inside, floating around, was Omega. She was hooked up to various cords and tubes, some of which kept her in the hibernation she was in. Others constantly took samples of her blood, flowing it out so tests could be made without any wait. He was ever so close to finishing Project Necromancer. Then he could be Scientific Minister. He had to be, once this was done.

He watched as Omega floated aimlessly in the bacta, remembering the naive child she used to be. When she was defiant, idealistic, and imaginative. Now she would never be any of those things. She didn’t have the chance. And never would get it again.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He snapped his head to look at the researcher bothering him.

“What is it?” He asked coldly, not fond of being disturbed.

“Uhm, sir,” The researcher started, her voice nervous and shaky. “We’ve done it. Project Necromancer is complete.”

[neon-junkie]

After Dark - Chpt.1

Summary: Tucked away in a lower level of Coruscant, Crosshair finds himself in a bar that he frequents - not for the drinks, nor the music, but for one woman, and one woman alone.

After months of silent encounters and flirtatious glances, Crosshair finally plucks up the courage to approach her.

Hopefully, she reciprocates his admiration.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!Reader

Rating: SFW (but will end NSFW)

Word count: 2k

Tags: Slow burn, Multi-chapter, Strangers to lovers, Flirting, Drinking, Dates.

Notes: Inspired by After Dark by Mr. Kitty - a favourite song of mine that reminds me of Crosshair.

I've been slowly working on this for a few months, and I figured I should at least post the first chapter lol. Curse depression for killing my motivation to write :(

She's here. Again.

That girl at the bar, sitting alongside her friends, chatting away in between the soft glances in his direction.

Crosshair's local watering hole, sometimes accompanied by his brothers, is a dingy dive bar near the lower levels of Coruscant. It's no 79's, far from it. Fuck that place, with its thumping music, overprices drinks, and hoards of regular clones. The Batch prefer to drink somewhere quieter - Crosshair prefers to drink somewhere quieter.

He's alone tonight, dressed in a crisp shirt and pressed pants, looking far too tasteful for a man who is simply out for a few drinks by himself. He's always been a fan of his own company, secluded in his usual little corner, a half-empty glass of bourbon sitting on his table. Within a couple of minutes, he'll finish the last swigs, and order yet another.

Crosshair never drinks heavily, a handful of doubles, and then he's gone. He'll stay in this bar for, what? An hour? Two at the most? He just needs some quiet time to himself, an escape from the rush of war and destruction, but coming to this particular bar wasn't his choice.

Back when the Batch were first deployed, and they returned to Coruscant after their first successful missions, they celebrated by going out on a bar crawl. Wrecker's idea, and seeing as they were still young and dumb(er), they all agreed to it.

One thing led to another, and they stumbled upon this place by chance. It's quiet, with soft music playing faintly through the speakers, a range of guests who keep to themselves, and shitty decor that was in dire need of a refurbishment a hundred years ago. But most importantly - they serve clones.

The Batch were only meant to have one drink here, one and done, then onto the next bar! Until a group of ladies entered the venue, a particular one catching the Sniper's eye.

Crosshair has never been one to ogle, stare, fantasize, or even crush on another being. Romance is… phah! Not his thing, Wrecker's maybe, and Hunter's for sure. But Crosshair? What's the point? Wasting your time, credits, and emotions on someone who will string you along for a few months, and then dump you out of the blue. Crosshair's cynical mindset has kept him far from ever obtaining a love life.

Everything clicked into place when he saw you, a revealing dress hugging at your body, heels that were clearly new from their lack of scuff marks, pristine hair and makeup, and a cute little clutch bag hung over your shoulder. Yeah, his admiration was noticeable, as his brothers caught wind of it within an instant, and to this day, Crosshair has never lived it down.

Yet, despite all his years of training, and the woes that he had already faced, he couldn't pluck up the courage to simply… walk over to you, and say hi.

Maker, no. An elite Trooper such as himself doesn't have a lick of courage when it comes to intimacy. Or rather, he didn't. Such a thing has grown over the months that Crosshair has spent returning to this establishment, either by himself, or with one of his brothers. Never the whole pack at once, though, as they'd definitely do something to embarrass him in front of you.

But tonight's the night. Crosshair has promised himself that. Even if (when) you reject him, it'll be worth it. He tried, and he can cross 'love' off his list of things to do, and move onto the next thing.

Although, Crosshair is hopeful. He's met your gaze one too many times, flirty glances from across the room, your girls giving you the odd nudge and wink whenever they notice that Crosshair is looking your way. The void in Crosshair's chest burns with admiration after each and every minor encounter, and the butterflies in your stomach dance and flutter just the same way. Such a pleasant feeling for two people who have never spoken a word to each other.

Your girls, like his brothers, are just as eager to get you two finally talking. This must be part of one big plan, as they inform you that they're going out for a smoke, leaving you to continue sitting at the bar, watching their drinks for them.

Just as luck would have it, Crosshair finishes the last of his bourbon, the liquid courage pumping through his veins. He rises to his feet before his brain can really process what's about to happen, and as he approaches the bar, all he does is rest his hands atop the counter as he waits to be served.

He's standing right beside you, yet you're facing forward. If only you'd tilt your head to the right, and look up a little, you'd finally make close contact with the man who's been clouding your thoughts every night. Finally, you do it, looking at him, only for your words to fall flat.

Crosshair flops worse than you do, almost letting out a squeak from his cracking voice. He's nervous, but he puts in an attempt to mask that daunting emotion. "Hey," Crosshair finally settles. No cheesy pickup line, no textbook flirting, just a simple greeting in hopes that you'll at least welcome him into a conversation.

"Hey," you greet in return, matching (or attempting to match) his content demeanour. Crosshair practically shivers at your voice, smoother than any velvet that he's ever felt. And now that he's up-close, he can already feel himself getting lost within your eyes, warm pools welcoming him in, a sight that he wishes to wake up to every morning.

'Get a grip!' Crosshair reminds himself, and plays his second card. "Would you care for a drink?" he offers. It's a little stereotypical, but it makes his intentions clear.

"Only if you let me buy the next round."

Ah! Your tone, the soft sprinkle of sass. Such wit and charm, and you've only said ten words. Crosshair prays that he's met his match, someone just as dry and cynical as himself.

"It's a deal, Miss…?" Crosshair's words trail off, but his question is quickly answered as you give him your name. He nods, repeating it with grace, and then gives his own. "I'm Crosshair."

"That would explain the tattoo," you point out. Crosshair often forgets about it, the stick and poke tattoo right across his face. He wonders if you like it.

"It's my area of speciality," Crosshair explains with a light shrug. "I'm a sharpshooter for the Republic."

"A clone?" you question, and Crosshair has to bite back at hissing at the word. Ugh, don't remind him!

"To some degree," he shrugs once more, then focuses his attention to giving the bartender his order, swiftly followed up by yours.

Attempting to relax, Crosshair perches himself on the stool besides you. "And what about you?" he questions, making light conversation. You tell him your job, as dull as it can be, "but it pays the bills," you explain.

"Mhm, I know how you feel," he hums. Crosshair's eyes wander across your body, not in a perverted way, but out of sheer curiosity. "You always dress well," he finds himself complimenting without a single thought, throwing both of you off.

"Thank you," you reply with a smile. "I can say the same about you. You can't go wrong with a button-up shirt and smart pants."

Crosshair catches himself smiling. "Thanks," he responds, and for once, not with a hiss.

"You're not with your friends tonight," you point out, vaguely gesturing to the empty booth where his rowdy bunch tend to rest.

"My brothers," Crosshair corrects you. "They can be a bit… much sometimes. I enjoy coming here to get a break from them," Crosshair explains, letting his eyes roll in annoyance at those that he secretly loves.

"Is that the only reason why you come here?" you ask with a wink, causing the tips of Crosshair's ears to turn red, and the sea in his stomach to unravel into a thunderous storm. May the Maker help him, because he's starting to realise just how uneducated he is when it comes to feelings.

"You know damn-well that's not the only reason," Crosshair replies with a chuckle. "I simply adore the decor," he follows up, attempting to bring some humour to the conversation. Internally, he's cringing at his poor attempt, yet it's enough to let you laugh.

"Me too," you laugh. "There's nothing that I love more than old furniture that is soaked with alcohol!"

Crosshair laughs along with you, but with every chuckle, his stomach turns deeper with unease. Maker, he's finally here, speaking to you, and who would have thought that you'd be perfect in every way?

Then again, things are far too early for Crosshair to truly know what you're like. Hopefully, if you allow him, he'll discover who you really are within time.

Your drink being placed on the bar top catches your eye, and you don't hesitate to bring it up to your lips. "Thank you again for the drink," you comment after taking a sip.

"It's no problem," Crosshair replies with a soft shrug, helping himself to his glass of bourbon.

"Why don't we try a different bar for my round?" you suggest, which throws Crosshair off guard. This is swiftly becoming an impulsive date, not that Crosshair minds. Then again, does he? He hasn't got a clue what he's doing, but seeing as you're initiating things, he must be doing a decent job. (For now.)

"I'd like that," Crosshair agrees, being careful to use like and not love. Can't be too eager!

The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor draws your eyes away from the Sniper, peering over your shoulder to see that your girls have finally returned. They're nattering away as they approach you, not paying any mind, only they stop in their tracks, mouths agape, when they finally look in your direction.

Never would they have guessed that they'd be met by this sight - their friend, who they left to sit alone whilst they went outside for a smoke, is finally sitting next to that reclusive man who she gets giddy just from the sight of.

"Girls," you call out to them. With a hand raised, you gesture to your new-found friend (date?)

"This is Crosshair."

[gars-weaponeer]

CLONE KINKTOBER 2024 (DAY 24)

Clone Kinktober list made by @olives-and-lilies You can see the list HERE

Day count: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | X | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31

Prompt: Breeding kink

Paring: Rex X F!Reader

Word count: 1,562

Tags & Warnings: NSFW, Oral sex, penetrative sex, breeding kink, multiple orgasms.

Summary:

After a mission in Felucia, Rex returns with one idea set in his mind.

You can also read it on AO3:

After the mission of Felucia, Rex didn’t seem to be the same. He looked more pensive and  lost in thought by the time you saw him, getting down from the shuttle with Kix by his side. And when the trooper’s eyes finally caught the sight of their beloved, Rex did not hesitate in rushing to your arms, holding you tightly, almost desperate, as if afraid you would vanish. 

This was somewhat unusual. Rex wasn’t the most stoic of the clones, but he had never been this vulnerable in public before. You worried about what had happened to make the captain react in such a way, however instead of upset Rex just seemed to be happy. The happiest you had seen him in months. 

-Rex, are you-- - You were cut off by a kiss, tender but filled with emotion. It felt as if it was the first or the last kiss between you, but it made your heart throb. 

-I missed you so much Mesh’la - Rex says, barely parting his lips from yours before diving in once more to claim your lips, this time the tenderness was replaced with hunger. Rex was being so intense that you could not help but melt in his arms. 

You were also happy to have your captain back. 

A while after, you were both finally in your personal barracks and Rex could barely keep his hands to himself. Kissing and caressing your body like his life depends on it. He grabbed at your ass and pulled you up so he could carry you to the bed, laying you down and getting on top of you without breaking the kiss. 

-Rex, a-are you sure you are ok? -You asked, completely out of breath once Rex finally moves away so he can take off your shirt.

-After the last mission, I realized some things… - He huffs, pulling the offending garment off your body, revealing the smooth skin underneath. -I don’t want to ever be apart from you… - He traced his fingers through your chest, leaning down to kiss at the tender flesh, mouthing it with desperation. - I need you… I need you badly.

You could not make sense of Rex’s words, but it’s not like you minded. You were enjoying the way your captain’s lips moved over your body, kissing and sucking at every free space of skin he could find. One of his hands caressed and pinched at one of your nipples while the other began to undo your pants.

Once Rex had managed to fully undress your smaller frame under him, He trailed his kisses from your chest, to your belly and down towards your crotch, leaving behind a trail of red marks. 

When Rex finally reached your pussy he didn't waste any time, pressing his lips to your folds like a starving man.

The feeling was so sudden you arched your back and let out a moan, your hands reaching out to grab at the clone captain’s hair. 

-Y-you are very eager today.- You said, completely out of breath as your lover eats you out in a frenzy.

-I just… missed you so much… -Rex says in between moans, barely moving his lips away from your sex.

You tasted so sweet and perfect, Rex eagerly sinked his tongue inside your entrance, trying to get more of your taste in his mouth while his nose brushed against your clit. He relished in the chorus of moans you would let out and the tiny shivers of your legs as they rested on his shoulder. 

-K-Kriff R-Rex… - You tried to warn your partner, but Rex was not stopping, not until he got what he wanted.  He reached one hand to rub at your clit with his thumb; a pair of firm strokes was all that he needed to have you come on his mouth. 

Rex drinked your essence with delight, licking the area clean before finally parting ways with a thin string of slick connecting you both. 

As you were still feeling the aftershocks of your first orgasm, Rex quickly undoes his codpiece and pulls his cock out, not bothering on taking any more pieces of armor before he settles in between your legs and sinks into your tight heat. 

-Kriff, Mesh’la… You are so tight… hnff so perfect- Rex growls as he keeps pressing deeper and deeper into his lover’s cunt. You held onto him with desperation, trying to ride the intense sensation. Rex was so big and you were barely stretched, but the amount of slick helped to aid the clone’s shaft sink further until the head reached your cervix. 

Rex stayed still for a moment, looking down at you with a tender expression that makes your heart throb. -You are so beautiful…- Rex whispers before he starts to move his hips, slowly dragging his dick against your spongy walls, making you gasp.  - Mesh’la… The rhythm was slow at first, allowing you to enjoy the feeling of being completely filled by your captain, heat simmering on your core with each firm thrust. But as speed began to rise, the feeling would start to become more intense. 

-So perfect… so perfect for me… mesh’la-  Rex gasped and groaned, not stopping his movements, trying to hit as deeply into your heat as he could. - You take me so well. 

-R-rex..-  You called for him, holding onto his shoulders tightly, bringing him as close as you could. You needed to feel him, all of him as the intensity of your love making increased. 

-I need you… so much. - Rex Growled, his hips starting to move faster - I need to fill you up… Get you nice and full of my cum… Make you pregnant. - His words sent shivers down your back. Where in the four corners of the Galaxy did Rex learn all this?

But the mental image caused you to clench down on Rex’s dick.

-You liked that? You like the idea of me pumping a child into you?- He was starting to get more and more excited, his eagerness dragging you down with him on a spiral of pleasure with no escape. 

-Cum for me Mesh’la, I need to feel you cum around me. - Rex begged, sinking his teeth down on your shoulder. The sting was all you needed to orgasm for a second time that night, your head spinning at the intensity of it. 

Rex was not far behind, you were squeezing him so tightly he only needed a couple of well angled thrusts to finally cum, shooting his seed deep inside your womb. 

-Kriff…- He panted hard against the damp skin of your neck, causing you to shiver. That had been so good, you were ready to sink into the mattress and sleep with your beloved in your arms… but Rex had other plans. 

Growling with excitement, he turned your body around, pressing your chest into the mattress and lifting your hips.

Without warning he sank into your tight heat once more, the cum from the previous release aiding in the process as Rex went to town with his partner. 

It was too much, you were still coming down from your last orgasm and now your core was being relentlessly pounded. Overstimulation had you shaking and moaning helplessly against the mattress. 

- I’m gonna… breed you…- Rex snarled on top of you, not giving you any chance to catch your breath as he rutted into you. -I’m gonna make you nice and round for me… We’ll have two or three… Maker, our kids would be… beautiful just like you… - What was he even talking about? 

This fantasy of his made your mind spin with excitement. You also wanted to indulge in the idea of being pregnant with Rex’s child. Having his children and leaving the GAR to have a happy family somewhere nice and warm. But that was something you couldn’t have. Not with the war raging as it was. Not with your lives in immediate danger every day. Not with the regulatory implant you had inside. 

But damn… it was nice to indulge for a moment. 

As Rex continued his relentless thrusting and his incoherent words, ecstasy began to rise once more, this time a lot quicker than the last. You did not fight it, you allowed the orgasm to take over, yelling your captain’s name as you came around his hard dick. 

Your walls made sure to milk Rex for all his worth as he once more filled your insides with his essence. You could feel how his whole body shook on top of you, that orgasm was so intense the clone captain finally collapsed on top of his partner. You took a few minutes to catch your breath, before Rex rolled to his side, Pulling you with him, holding you close in his arms. It was a comfortable position. Rex had yet to pull out of you, keeping all his seed inside, which caused a slight sense of delight for you; He kept his nose buried in your hair while his hands wrapped around your body, touching your belly as if he really hoped it would take. You both knew it wouldn’t, but it was nice to pretend for a moment. 

“Maybe one day, when this is all over…” You thought as you drifted off to sleep. “I’ll grant his wish.”

Day twenty-fourth of the Clone kinktober challenge!

On the sixth day of sinmas my trooper gave to me: Six creamy pies FIVE TWIRLING KNIVES Four angry love marks Three gentle kisses Two proton torpedoes and Jesse in a full body suit~

ᴰᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳ ᵇʸ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ⁻ⁿ⁻ˢᵖᶦᶜᵉ & ᶜᵃᶠᵉᵏᶦᵗˢᵘⁿᵉ

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@clonekinktober @cw80831 Thank you for your support!

[lbibliophile-sw]

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

[professional-yearner]

Can't Help Falling In Love With You 🤍

Pt. 1

Yandere! Cheater! Officer Clone trooper x Fem! Reader

Series TW!: cheating, mistresses, grief, murder, Evil-ish, being trapped, toxic relationships, forced relationship, obsessive love, obsession, general insanity, manipulation, disloyalty

A/N: I hope you guys like this first installment of my new-ish series! I do intend to finish it this time lol. I really hope you like it! :3

You sat in the dark, staring blankly at the messages. They were sweet, affectionate, and playful, with a deep sense of connection that made bile creep up your throat and your head light. You remembered when Steel used to message you like this, it seemed so distant now, but you could remember it almost vividly.

You hadn't realized you were crying until you had to sniff to keep mucus from dripping onto the data pad. It made sense why he had been so distant recently; staying out late on his leave instead of being with you, always on his data pad doing 'work', never really touching you anymore.

The name opposite his own messages seemed to be laughing at you, bold and victorious as it burned into your retinas;

Arah

Was that her name? It was pretty, like she must be. Was it just that, or was she funnier, smarter, more capable, more interesting? Maybe all of the above.

You cried out, pain racking through your entire body; you had thought he was your person. You thought he thought you were his person.

It had all come together when you met him, and now it had so rapidly fallen apart.

-

The morning following your discovery was bleak, but you had to keep it together, at least until he left again for the day.

It was a sisyphean task to hold back your tears without him noticing as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he went (something he hadn't done in a while), but you didn't think you could face him now, not until you got yourself together a bit.

You finally broke once he closed the door behind him, trying to take air between sobs as you did your best to move towards the bathroom.

Skincare didn't work, the tears and snot wouldn't stop long enough for any of your products to set.

Putting on a nice outfit didn't work either, you just found new ways to compare yourself to how pretty his new girl must be, making your crying all the more intense.

Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, exhausted from a day that sped by you and stomach rumbling.

You had to climb the counter to get the ingredients that you needed, seeing as the it only reached your hip at the most.

Steel had insisted on you not "wasting your money" on a step-stool, going on about how he'd always be there to get things down for you. Remembering that made you grit your teeth, grief momentarily replaced with vitriol.

Karking liar.

Mixing and cleaning went by in a blur, you were so practiced by now it felt like a reflex. You looked down at what you were making.

It was both of your favorites; pancakes.

It was simple, basic even, but it had kind of been your thing. It seemed appropriate considering you had met in a diner.

You felt your eyes heat as you flipped the pancake.

You really thought he loved you.

You could remember the first time you had kissed, the first time you had felt so wanted and right with someone;

You giggled as he bumped your shoulder with his, the rough material of his uniform scuffing your bare arm lightly as he grinned down at you. The rain pattered on the two of you, your hair and his hat beginning to drip.

You paused your walking as you caught his eye, the look he was giving you catching you off guard; his brown-gold eyes shone more openly than you had ever seen them, soft affection following your every movement as his lips curved into a warm smile.

"What?" You smiled up at him, laughing lightly.

He stepped out in front of you, leaning down to push the hair away from your face and touching your nose with his,

"You're perfect, angel."

Your eyes widened as you took in the moment, a desire settling itself against your ribcage at his declaration. Stomach fluttering, you worked up every scrap of courage you had, finally leaning forward and closing the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips shyly to his.

He seemed to be in shock for a moment, making you pull back, only to give a small squeak of surprise as he shot out a hand to bring you back, capturing your lips gently, but passionately, against his once more.

You both stayed like that for a while, lips moving against each other in quiet tenderness before he pulled away slowly, rubbing your cheek with his calloused thumb,

He breathed softly, face only an inch from yours, "Sweet girl."

You bit back a silly grin, bringing your forehead to his and placing your hands at the sides of his face in a Keldabe kiss, one last show of your overwhelming adoration before pulling away.

"You want to come back to mine? I could make breakfast for dinner; your favorite."

He said nothing for a moment, looking at you as if you were the beginning and end of the galaxy, making you almost tear up before his face broke into a lopsided grin once more. He picked you up by your waist suddenly, causing you to squeal as he spun you around, laughing,

"Cyar’ika, you are the love of my life!"

You stared at the pan, watching the pastry grow black as you zoned out. The love of his life.

You sobbed, clutching the counter as the smell of burning pancake filled your nose.

Maker.

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, Vod’ika! Congratulations on 500 followers!🥳💕

Could I make a request for aquamarine with Fives in the spring?

Shiny

Summary: Two weeks after Fives is killed by the Coruscant Guard, you get a visitor.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 735

Prompt: Aquamarine - Healing Love

Warnings: Angsty with a bittersweet ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @the-bad-batch-baroness

A/N: So, this was supposed to be happy. It...isn't happy. If you want a happy story, please send me another request.

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since Rex showed up on your door and told you that Fives had been killed.

And nothing has been the same since then.

You feel as though you're missing a piece of yourself. As though Fives took a piece of yourself with him when he died.

Some mornings you wake up and you forget. Forget what happened to him. Forget that you’re never going to see him again. And then reality smacks you and it becomes hard to breathe.

You don’t blame the Guard for shooting him. Or Rex for telling you. Or even Fives for having the gall to die on you.

You blame yourself for loving him. For falling in love with a soldier.

You should have known better.

Not that you have regrets though. How could you? He was Fives and he was yours and it was amazing while you had him.

Slowly you move through your apartment to get to the kitchen. Slowly, because it feels like there’s a massive weight on your shoulders, but you know you have to eat. Fives wouldn’t want you to waste away after all.

You’re about to put some bread in the toaster when the doorbell rings.

A sigh falls from your lips, and you trudge over to the door and lightly press the button to allow it to slide open. And then you blink, bewildered, at the red and white clad man on the other side.

“...can I help you?” You ask, as you look over his armor. There’s no identifying paint at all. Fives called his vod’e who didn’t have any identifying pain shinies. Why a shiny would be at your apartment is beyond you, though.

“May I come in?” All of the clones sound the same, but there’s a weird inflection in his voice.

You don’t move for a moment, and then you sigh and move to the side, “Sorry for the mess.”

He steps into your apartment, and looks around, as you press the button to shut the door.

“So…what can I do for a member of the guard?” You’re trying, so very hard, to not blame him for what happened to Fives.

But it’s not easy.

The man hesitates, and then pulls his helmet off, and absently sets it on the shelf next to the front door. And then he turns to you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Fives?”

There’s something like guilt in his gaze, and on his face, but he reaches out and cups your face with his hands, “Mesh’la. It’s me. It’s really me.”

You fall into him, “Rex told me you were dead!” You say faintly, not sure if you’re in shock or not.

“Rex…Rex needs to believe that I am dead. I wanted to come sooner, but Fox needed to teach me how to be a guard-”

“Fives, why?” You blurt.

He presses his forehead against yours, “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you that, but know that I have a good reason.”

“But-”

He trails his fingers over your lips, “Listen to me, please?”

You fall silent, and you feel his breath against your face. You think you’re about to cry, though Fives looks like he is going to cry too.

“I can’t stay long. But I needed you to know-” He leans in and kisses you, deeply, passionately, “Get off Coruscant. Go to Alderaan.” He breathes against your lips, “I promise that I will find you.”

“Fives?”

“Tell no one. Not my brothers, not your friends. Promise me, mesh’la. Promise me that you’ll do this.”

Your lower lips trembles, “I promise.”

Fives sighs, and looks so relieved, “I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this-”

“Will you tell me why, when you can?”

“I promise.” Fives leans in and crashes his lips against yours, “I have a little bit of time.” He mumbles against your lips, “Can I have you? Just one more time?”

You smile at him, “Always.” Having him here, knowing he’s alive, is healing. Even though you know that it’s going to be a while before you can see him again. “I love you.”

Fives smiles at you, warm and loving, “I love you more than I can put into words.” And then his arms are around you and his lips are against yours.

You can have him one more time.

And that will have to be enough.

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (part 3)

Read here on Ao3

Rated: T | Words: 2544

<<Previous Chapter|Next Chapter>>

A/N: Introducing my OC in this chapter…I’m excited to explore her backstory with y’all!

KANDRIA

“Dad, are those soldiers twins?” Kandria whispers, pulling on her father’s arm. 

He turns and traces the invisible line of her gaze with his eyes, then smiles. “No, sweetheart, those are clone troopers.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s the way they were created. They are…” she watches her father’s face as he searches the sky above them for words, “...copies of one person. Exact copies. That’s what a clone is.” 

“Oh,” Kandria says, but the answer only makes her think of more questions. 

How are they born? Where do they come from? Who is the man they were cloned from? Why are they here? Are they like regular people? Real people? 

The questions swirl in her mind, but the soldiers move closer to them, and she doesn’t want to sound rude if they overhear her asking. They have their helmets tucked under their arms, their armor white and shiny in the afternoon sun. She feels a warmth of embarrassment when they catch her staring. One of them smiles at her, and it crinkles the edges of his eyes. The other doesn’t smile, but he nods at her, a silent greeting. She doesn’t know what to do, so she smiles and nods back at them.

The smiling one chuckles, and they continue by. 

Kandria decides that at least one of her questions has been answered. 

They are real people.

**

“Dree! Get out here!” Uncle Garo roars from the front room. “Bring the med kit!” 

Shoving her data pad under her mattress, Kandria stumbles to her feet, and runs to the corner where their ill-stocked med kit is kept. Slinging the strap over her shoulder, she goes to the shelf and snatches up the med scanner she’d pieced together despite her uncle’s protests of it being “a wasted use of parts.” If your injuries are that deep, you might as well die and get it over with. 

Kandria tries to imagine what sort of injuries she will face as she moves to the main room, but she stops short when she sees her cousins staggering through the bay door behind their father with a soldier in broken armor slung between them. The toes of his boots drag the ground. 

“Who…” Kandria begins, but Garo grabs her arm and pulls her toward the wounded man. 

“A kriffing clone. Just get him to stay alive long enough to give us any information we can get out of him. Got it? Don’t be wasteful.” 

Kandria pulls out of his grip and takes a few measured steps back. “Take him to my cot,” she tells Bailroy and Jaysha, because she knows full well that none of them will give up their own bed. 

“The floor’s good enough for it,” Bailroy argues. 

“Not good enough for me,” Kandria says, even though she feels herself trembling at her own audacity. 

Her cousins sneer at her, teeth bared; however, a sharp nod from her uncle makes them comply regardless. She follows them back into the storage room, watching disgustedly as they deposit the man roughly onto her thin mattress. Disgust is overwhelmed by a thrill of panic when she hears the metallic thump of her hidden data pad, but neither man seems to notice.

She waits until they have stepped away before she approaches the clone. His face is filthy with dirt and dried blood. His armor, or what remains of it, is shattered, large pieces broken off and missing. He looks like he may already be dead, but when she rests her palm on his forehead, his skin is hot with fever. 

“What happened to him?” Kandria asks, throat tight. 

“We found a railcar that had fallen from the track,” Bailroy says. “It probably fell with it.” 

Kandria bristles, turning on him. “He is not an it. He is a human being.”

Bailroy steps toward her, and it takes every ounce of resolve for Kandria to hold her ground, to not flinch when he leans forward to meet her eye.“Watch your tone, girl,” he growls. 

She curls her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “I’m not scared of you,” she lies through gritted teeth. 

Bailroy smiles. “I don’t believe you.” 

“We’ll leave you to tend to your pet,” Jaysha tells her, grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him away. “Don’t get attached. We’re not keeping it.” 

Kandria doesn’t move until they leave the room, the door sliding shut behind them. Her eyes burn, but she won’t let herself cry. She has a second chance, and she won’t squander it with wasted tears. 

**

TECH

“What did you do with Nala Se as a medical assistant?” 

Omega kicks the heel of one boot against the crate they’re sitting on. The methodical thump, thump, thump is distracting, along with the fact that she does not seem to be entirely listening, her eyes focused on the open hatch where they can hear their brothers arguing lightly over supplies and their organization outside. 

“Omega,” Tech prompts. 

She snaps her head up to look at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” 

Tech suppresses a sigh. When he had told Hunter that they should be sure to continue Omega’s education, he had happily taken on the role of instructor. Typically, the girl at his side is an admirably attentive pupil; however, there are occasions when her priorities are otherwise engaged. He remembers what Hunter told him about patience, a pointed warning that Tech had not fully appreciated at the time it was given. 

He repeats himself carefully. “What skills did you attain as Nala Se’s medical assistant?” 

Omega stills, her swinging boot stopping with a final thud. “Oh. I learned how to use a med scanner and some of the other medical equipment. Mostly how to read the data and take notes. Basic first aid, and minor medical procedures like sutures and resetting dislocations. And I know a lot about using bacta, and giving hypos.” 

“Hmmm. Did you practice these skills often?” 

“A little. Usually, the clone medics handled everything. I would help clean tools and bring supplies; however, there were times that I had to do more.” Omega seems reluctant to continue the discussion, her attention once again flagging to the open hatch. 

“I am sure you were of great help,” Tech says, deciding to let the topic shift on what he hoped was a positive note. 

“I tried to be,” Omega says. “I only ever wanted to help…even when it was hard. Sometimes no one could help.” The child’s voice trembles. “That’s what Nala Se said.”

Tech realizes too late that he has wandered out of his depth of expertise. 

“I know that everyone will die someday,” Omega continues, unsteadily. “But it’s still very sad. Nala Se said it was unprofessional to cry.” 

Tech has never wished so desperately for one of his more emotionally intelligent brothers to interrupt at this moment; however, he knows that the odds of such an occurrence happening at such a convenient time is practically nonexistent. 

Tech turns his body so that he is partially facing Omega. “Did you know that the Kaminoans are often wrong?” 

Omega blinks up at him, dark eyes shining. She scrunches her brows, confused. “What?” she asks. 

“That is to say,” Tech amends, realizing he has been unclear, “Nala Se should not have told you that it was unprofessional to…cry. It is a natural reaction to many emotions. While tears may not always be appropriate in a particular moment, they are a valid response.” 

Omega’s expression softens. “Do you ever cry, Tech?” 

The question catches him off guard somehow; although, it is logical in its arrival. It feels strange to answer in the negative, but he has not actually cried tears since he was very, very young, when his emotions were still unregulated by maturity. Tech has never been traditionally emotive. At times it has given the impression to his brothers and others that he is unfeeling, which could not be further from the truth. He feels deeply. He is just not sure how those feelings might translate to behavior that others might read and understand. 

“Of course,” Tech says stiffly, deciding that the when is unimportant in the context of the conversation. “It is a human emotion, and we are quite human.” 

Omega smiles at him and does something else he does not expect. She lurches forward, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him so tight it is hard to swallow. He makes a noise of protest involuntarily, but Omega holds on for a moment more to say in a soft voice, “Thank you, Tech.” 

But he isn’t sure what she is thanking him for.

**

Tech wakes to someone gently rubbing at his face with a cool, damp cloth. Awareness itself is disorienting, but he is acutely aware of his injuries. His whole body hurts with an ache dulled by mild pain relievers. It is only enough to take the edge off; however, he doubts nothing short of a tranquilizer and a bacta tank would be able to wholly soothe him. 

The only hands he can imagine being so gentle amongst his siblings is his sister. In the same vein that the thought of Omega at his side soothes him, there is an overwhelming sadness. 

“Omega?” he rasps out, throat dry with dehydration and disuse. 

The hands draw away. “You’re awake,” a young voice says. “I didn’t know if you would.” 

It is not Omega’s voice, but it somehow clicks into place the memories of events leading up to this moment. Plan 99. The railcar falling. His goggles, broken. The underground cavern. Rough hands dragging him, a boot pushing him to his back…

Tech gasps, coming fully awake. Panic drives physical pain to depths so that adrenaline might take hold. 

“It’s okay!” the voice says, a frantic whisper.  “Shh, please. You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you, please, be quiet!”

Tech tries to obey, to steady his breathing. He stares up at the smudged, dim ceiling above him. The analytical part of his mind, always working, tells him that he is in a warehouse of some kind and that it is old. Very old. He puts all of his thoughts to task on that one fact, forcing himself to latch onto its surety, as though it means anything at all. When he finally feels that he has regained control of himself, he turns his head to look at the speaker beside him. It is a girl, possibly a little older than Omega, that stares back at him, eyes wide. She clutches a dirty rag in her hands, stained the rusty color of blood. His blood, he realizes. 

The girl glances over her shoulder. “I don’t think they heard you,” she assures him softly. She moves closer. “My name is Kandria. What is yours?” 

“Tech,” he whispers back. His throat burns. “Please…may I have some water?” 

“Of course,” Kandria tells him, and a canteen appears. 

Tech starts to sit up on his own, but everything - everything - hurts. The girl puts an arm around his shoulders and props him up just enough that he won’t choke, then holds the mouth of the canteen to his lips. Tech is not certain how long he has been without water. However, if the insurmountable thirst that is activated the moment the cool liquid touches his tongue is anything to go by, it has been a while. 

Kandria pulls the canteen away far too soon. “I’ll give you more in a minute. I want to make sure your stomach can handle it. You have a fever. I’ve given you an antibiotic and cleaned any open wounds I could find. I wish we had an IV to get you fluids…” 

Tech’s mind tries to focus on the rattle of words; however, his thoughts are consumed with the canteen in the girl’s hand, just out of reach. 

“Here,” Kandria says, and, as though reading his silent thoughts, she brings the canteen back and allows him another few swallows. “A little more. I just don’t want you to get sick, Tech.”

While his thirst still is not satisfied, he acknowledges the wisdom in her words with a tight nod. 

Kandria smiles and sets the canteen aside before lifting the rag again. “Is it alright if I finish washing your face? It will help me see if there are any other head injuries I should be worried about.” 

Tech nods again, and the girl sits on the edge of the cot and continues her work with soft, short strokes. Tech glances down and notices that his armor has been removed. Not that the plastoid could offer much protection anymore given the state it had come to in his fall. And yet, the loss strikes a deep chord. 

Do you ever cry, Tech? 

“My cousins said that you fell with a railcar,” Kandria says. “Is that true?” 

“Yes.” 

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, but he looks away. If Kandria’s empathy is in any way similar to his sister’s, he does not believe his resolve will be able to withstand the sentiment. 

“It’s a wonder you survived.” 

Tech huffs but cannot find the strength or words to respond.

The sound of raised voices makes Kandria go still. “They’re coming,” she whispers. She leans close, breath warm against Tech’s ear. “You must not tell them anything too important. Please, you have to be valuable to survive, do you understand? I’ll do everything I can to help you, I promise…”

There is a hiss of a door sliding open, and Kandria pushes to her feet, turning her back on Tech. 

“I told you to tell us when it woke up.” Tech recognizes the voice immediately. Prove that you have information we want.

“He just woke up, Uncle Garo. I was just making sure he was stable.” 

A growl answers her first, low and guttural. “Sure, you were. You’re a bleeding heart, Dree. One of the many faults you got from my brother. But he was a better liar. Move aside.” 

The girl does not move, but Tech can see that she is shaking. “He’s concussed. He won’t be able to tell you anything useful yet.”

“Move. Aside. Girl.” 

Every innate instinct in Tech wills him to move, to protect, to put himself between the threatening voice and the girl might have befriended his sister in another life; however, his physical faculties fail him, and he can do little more than struggle to sit the rest of the way up, an agonizing gesture even in its simplicity. He can’t remember if Kandria mentioned broken ribs.

“I will answer your questions to the best of my capabilities,” Tech bites out around a grunt of pain. 

From this distance, the face of the man before him is smeared beyond viable recognition without the aid of his goggles. However, the man’s posture is read easily enough, perfectly in sync with the words and tone this Garo dared use against a child.

Tech comes to a resolute decision then. You have to be valuable to survive…

He will be valuable to this man for as long as it takes to rebuild his strength. 

And when that happens, he will leave this place. He will find his brothers. 

And he will take Kandria with him. 

A/N: Dad-Mode activated…

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[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 2

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 6.1k Warnings: mention of injury; implied ptsd; implied emotional abuse; stun guns and falling unconscious

Previous chapter │ Next chapter

Her master was stood next to her, a look of disgust in his red eyes as they were studying the squad of clone troopers in front of them, their shiny, white armor creating a stark contrast against the barren landscape. Was she on Geonosis?

“Padawan, we’re leaving”, he said coldly, wasting no time to start walking back towards the gunship behind them.

“Leaving? What do you mean, leaving? Anakin and Obi-Wan need our help!”, Lexie said, turning towards him but not moving from her position.

“I do not know what the Council is thinking but I will not debase myself by fighting alongside some things created in a laboratory!” he replied in the same cold tone.

“H-How can you say that? These are people”, she yelled, arm outstretched towards the clones behind her. “Can you not feel them through the Force? They’re people, and they’re waiting on your guidance!”

Master al’Prani took a few steps towards his Padawan, stopping right in front of her. “If you want to stay and risk your life by the side of these… science experiments, then be my guest, but I will not do it. The Council has gone too far this time.” Lexie was stunned by his emotionlessness, not even a slight frown visible on the blue skin of his face. She knew he was cold, hell, he must’ve been one of the coldest Jedi in the entire Order, but this was something else. This was cruel, and wrong, and not the Jedi way.

“The Council has given us our orders”, she said, trying to sound as cold and emotionless as her master did.

“And now you want to listen to the Council”, al’Prani retorted immediately. “You’re being a hypocrite, Padawan.”

Was he right? Doubt crept in Lexie’s mind as it wondered to the times she had ignored the Council’s instructions during past missions, she wasn’t exactly a rule follower and her master knew that better than anyone. But I’ve only ever done what I thought was right, in order to help other people. And I know this isn’t right. I have to stay, I have to help Anakin and Obi-Wan.

All of a sudden Master al’Prani was not in front of her anymore. When did he leave? Had anything else been spoken between the two of them? What was she going to do now? She was alone, with a squad of soldiers behind her that she could feel were anxiously awaiting her orders. How was she supposed to give them orders? The robes she was wearing felt like they were suffocating her. And they were black? She swore they were the burgundy ones she always wore just a moment ago, what was going on?

“Commander?”, the helmet-modulated voice came from behind her, making her jump.

“Com-Commander? No I… don’t call me that please”, Lexie pleaded, her hand lifted to her chest, fingers rubbing small circles of her sternum.

“What should we call you then, Sir?”

“Lexie, just Lexie”, she snapped unintentionally. Her breaths were short and shallow, her lungs felt like they were burning, like they were not filling with enough air. She tried to force herself to take deep breaths, but they were still too fast. The clone trooper did not know how to respond, he was conflicted, what she had asked was against protocol. But she was starting to hyperventilate, he needed to help her.

“Alright, Lexie”, he hesitated a moment but then stepped closer, his left hand resting on her shoulder as the right one swiftly removed his helmet. “I need you to breath, nice and slow”.

Lexie looked at the man in front of her, taking in his dark hair and the sharp features of his face, as if he had been carved by an artist. Her eyes found his and she was left speechless, lost in the gorgeous golden-brown hue of the irises and the kindness with which he was gazing at her. She followed his request, taking a slow, deep breath in, her eyes not leaving his.

“Good, that’s good”, the clone said as she exhaled. He held her gaze as she took more deep breaths. “Now, Lexie, what do you want us to do? We’re waiting for your orders.”

“M-my orders? I don’t… I don’t think I can give orders, I-I don’t have military training, I… I don’t know what I’m doing”, she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“You’re a Jedi, Lexie, you got this”, he reassured her, his grip on her shoulder tightening for a moment as one side of his lips lifted in a faint smile.

His words were working, or maybe it was his unfaltering gaze. Lexie felt calmer, safe even, as she continued to draw deep, slow breaths. She closed her eyes, trying to centre herself. “Okay, I-I got this, I…. Thank you…”, she paused expectantly, eyes finding his again and waiting for the trooper to tell her his name.

“My designation is CT-75…” 

Her alarm whisked her away from the dream. Or was it a memory? The memory she’s been so desperately trying to find through the fog of her mind? She cursed under her breath as her hand came to her chest. Her heart was racing, just as it had done in her dream. No, memory. It has to have been a memory.

She got up from her bed and made her way to her desk, opening the drawer in which the datapad was stored and finding the report she must have read a hundred times by now. It was written very matter-of-factly, no details actually given on what Master al’Prani had said, just simply stating his refusal to take command and the fact that he left before the fighting had started. And no mentions of her having a panic attack, or of the trooper who had calmed her down. Her heart fluttered as she remembered the kind look in his eyes. Stop. There’s no time for this.

She started getting changed, putting on clean underwear and a sports bra, black trousers and a black tank top in lieu of an undertunic, she could never stand those. She hesitated as she reached for the black overtunic, deciding to go back to her closet to find her burgundy one instead and doing the same for her tabard and sash. She was done mourning the loss of Master al’Prani.

She ran a hand through her straight hair thinking she should get it cut soon, it’s getting too long. For now, she decided to put it into a tight braid, starting the plait at the top of her head. Her entire body shivered as her fingers ran over the scar. Stop thinking about it, she thought as snippets of her dream came back to her.

It was a bit ironic really, she had spent weeks forcing herself to try and remember anything about Geonosis, and now that she finally did she was trying her hardest to force it out of her mind. But she had to stay focused, she was a Knight now, after all, she had to prove to herself that she deserved it. And she wasn’t even sure if what she saw was an actual memory, there’s no way she would’ve felt all that when looking at a clone trooper right? she didn’t last night and she had been surrounded by a bunch of them at the 79s.

She finished applying some makeup, opting for a more natural look that would complement her best features, which she thought were her eyes and lips. She didn’t care much about her eye colour though, the brown of the irises seemed boring to her, nowhere near as beautiful as the amber hue of that trooper’s. “Stop! Just kriffing stop!”, Lexie said out loud, exasperated with her mind.

She took one last look in the mirror, reassuring herself that she looked normal. She was glad to finally notice some colour back on her face, having been shocked to look at her reflection after waking up from the coma, the months spent under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room turning her white skin into a sickly, pale colour, almost like a corpse. But thankfully it looked better now, the hours she had spent in the courtyard near the Great Tree whenever it was a sunny day had really helped improve her complexion.

Lexie threw her black cloak on, grabbed her lightsabers and hurriedly left the Temple. Her alarm had been set so early, how in the stars did she always manage to leave this late? She would have to walk really fast in order to get to the barracks in a decent time. As she started walking she smiled, thinking about seeing Anakin again. He was the person she felt the closest to, caring about him as if he were her little brother. They had bonded quickly once Anakin came to the Temple, merely three years after she had, and the same age she was when she was brought into the Order, so she felt an immediate connection due to their similar circumstances.

She had been lonely during those three years, mourning the loss of her mother and the fact that she was forced to flee her home planet. She missed Seccaya, she missed the rivers and the mountains, she felt so confined and claustrophobic in the steel ecumenopolis of Coruscant.

She and Anakin were outsiders together. Even if the other younglings in the Temple were polite and respectful towards them, reticence could still be felt by the two newcomers. Therefore, both of them had felt the need to stick together, to rely on each other for emotional support. But they also pushed each other in training, both having the same need to catch up to their peers and their competitive natures were an even match.

The past few years also helped strengthen their bond, her master getting less and less interested in training her and insisting that Obi-Wan take her off his hands every now and then. Lexie sometimes spent weeks at a time with Anakin and his master, accompanying them on missions and training by their side. It had been months, though, since she’s last seen him, training together the day before he and Obi-Wan departed to resolve a border dispute on Ansion.

She started to worry, wondering how Anakin might have changed in the months she’d been in a coma, so much had changed around him after all. She, on the other hand, felt unchanged, as if she was still a lost Padawan. But Anakin had been a Knight for months now, and a general in charge of an entire battalion; how would she be able to catch up?

Her feet stopped in front of the entrance to the barracks. This is it now, no turning back. Lexie took a deep breath and tried her best to clear her mind. She was a Jedi Knight now, and a general, she had to act like one. She cringed internally as she recalled the previous night. She shouldn’t have gone into the 79s, what did those three troopers think of her? She tried to reassure herself that she had not been that drunk, and she acted normally, right? She didn’t dance, she didn’t say anything embarrassing, she didn’t flirt with anyone. Okay, maybe a little bit with that Fives guy but that barely counts.

“Well, well… look who finally decided to join the war effort”, Anakin’s teasing voice jolted her from her thoughts.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun now, could I?”, Lexie answered with a smile.

“It’s really good to see you, Lexie”, he continued as his gloved hand came to squeeze her shoulder, his voice lowering slightly. “I was worried about you”.

Lexie’s head turned towards Anakin’s hand on her shoulder. Something felt off about it, unnatural. Her eyes snapped back to Anakin’s face. She didn’t even need to form the question, the alarmed look in her eyes said everything that was needed.

“Count Dooku”, was all he muttered, face frowning in anger as he pronounced the name, withdrawing his hand.

“I am so sorry, Anakin. I tried to get to you I just… couldn’t”, she replied, feeling guilt creep up inside of her. She should’ve done better, she should’ve gotten to him and helped him but she had failed. She was a failure and her friend had lost an arm because of it.

“It’s not your fault, Lexie”, he said, offering her a small, reassuring smile. He then jerked his head, motioning for her to follow. “Come on, I left my Padawan training in the hangar with some of the men”.

“I’m sorry, your what?” Lexie asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Wasn’t exactly my choice. But she’s a skilled Jedi, albite a bit stubborn. Her name is Ahsoka”.

“Well look at you, a proper Jedi Knight with a Padawan and everything. How did the Council let that happen?” she teased.

“Funny”, he said sarcastically. “But you’ll see, they might throw a Padawan on you as well, since you’re a Knight too now, after all. Although you might want to lose this if you want people to believe that”, Anakin said as he tugged on the thin Padawan braid hanging over Lexie’s right shoulder.

Her eyes went wide at the realisation. “Kriff! I totally forgot about it”. She scrambled to try and hide it, intertwining it with the rest of her hair. I need to remember to cut it later.

Anakin chuckled and started walking, Lexie following next to him down the intricate corridors of the barracks. How she was supposed to learn where to go in this durasteel maze she had no idea. She was shocked to notice that all the clone troopers they passed would stop and salute them. She felt stupid for being shocked by that, it was obviously to be expected since they were all soldiers and her and Anakin were generals but it still felt unnatural for her. She had to look at her fellow Jedi, mimicking the way he would nod in acknowledgement. I really hope I can pick all this shit up fast.

She felt him before she saw him, although she wasn’t exactly sure what the feeling was. As they reached the hangar, Lexie’s senses were met by a warmth that felt almost familiar, yet she could not place it. She did, however, know that it was coming from one of the clones stood closer to a wall on the other side of the hangar. He seemed to be a higher-ranking officer, his armor equipped with a pauldron and a kama. One-sided pauldron, that means captain right? Lexie tried to recall the information she knew she must’ve seen in one of the manuals; granted, she hadn’t properly read any of them, regardless of how many time Obi-Wan had insisted she familiarized herself with military procedures and regulations.

The clone’s face was clean, no tattoos of facial hair obscuring his sharp features. His hairstyle was, however, quite unique, hair buzzed short and bleached to a light blond. There was something different about him, something that was nagging at the back of her mind. Lexie couldn’t focus on it, however, her attention drawing to an unusual sight next to the clone, making her stop in her tracks for a moment. A young Togruta girl was on the floor, leaning against the wall, appearing to be unconscious.

“How long did she last this time, Rex?”, Anakin asked loudly, as he made his way towards the clone and the girl.

“1 minute and 54 seconds, Sir”, the clone replied, looking at him then over at Lexie who was now catching up to Anakin.

“Good, she’s improving then”, Anakin said satisfied.

“Umm, Ani, is your Padawan supposed to be unconscious?” Lexie asked with a small frown on her face.

“Well, not if she managed to deflect the blaster shots”, he replied, earning a bigger frown from Lexie. “What? They’re set to stun.”

“Yeah, no, of course, why did I even ask”, she said, rolling her eyes, which made the clone in front of them lift one side of his mouth in a small smile. Lexie realised the clone was watching her intently. Her eyes met his and she was reminded of warm, sweet syrup. She felt her heart skip a beat and quickly moved her gaze back towards Anakin, praying that she was not blushing. What the kriff is wrong with me? One stupid dream and now I’m gonna blush every time I look a clone in the eyes?

 “Well, let’s get back to business”, Anakin said, moving closer to the clone trooper. “Lexie, I want you to meet Captain Rex, the best of the 501st. Rex, this is General Alexis Khalla, she’ll be joining us as co-general of the battalion.”

 Lexie extended her arm towards the Captain who had stood at attention as the introduction was being made. Rex shook her hand, a genuine smile appearing of his face. “It’s good to see you, General.”

  “Umm, nice to meet you too?”, Lexie said, confused by his enthusiasm. A memory came into her mind of a holo-book she read as a child; her favourite character was called Rex, wasn’t he? She pushed the thought away, how is that relevant to anything? The confusion that this random memory generated made her miss the slight disappointment that Rex had felt for a moment. Anakin caught it however, much to Rex’s dismay, and gave him an intrigued look.

“Not to sound out of line, Sir”, the Captain asked after clearing his throat, “but why are we getting a second general?”.

 “The Council felt that they’ve left General Skywalker unsupervised for too long. They hope I’ll be a good influence on him”, Lexie replied, turning her head towards the other Jedi, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“They did not say that”, Anakin said with a chuckle.

 “Those were the exact words”, she assured him holding back a laugh.

“You? A good influence? Unbelievable”, he shook his head. “I will never understand how you got them to believe that.”

“Whatever can you mean?”, Lexie asked in a sweet voice, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.

“That! The innocent act”. Anakin turned to address a visibly confused Rex, “every single time we would get in trouble during missions it would be me getting the blame and the lecture from Obi-Wan, even though it was her who got us into trouble in the first place”. The Captain glanced at Lexie, slight amusement present in his eyes.

“Oh don’t exaggerate. You got us into plenty of trouble all by yourself”, she laughed.

They were interrupted by the low groans coming from the young Padawan as she was slowly regaining conscience. The Captain moved towards her, extending his arm and helping her back to her feet. “You’re waking up a lost faster, Commander, and you lasted 3 seconds longer this round”.

“Thank you, Rex”, Ahsoka replied, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She then looked towards her master and noticed Lexie standing next to him. “Master Khalla, you’re here!” she said, excitement visible in her eyes. She approached the Jedi and bowed her head in respect. “I am looking forward to learning from you, and, if I’m honest, it’s such a relief to no longer be the only girl around”.

Lexie chuckled at that. “I look forward to working with you too, Ahsoka”.

“There’ll be time to get to know each other later”, Anakin interrupted. “Get back in the circle Snips, training session isn’t done yet”.

 Lexie was taken aback by Anakin’s authoritative tone of voice and watched as the Padawan did as she was told. Her gaze then moved to the Captain, watching as he put on his helmet, commanding the troopers that had been scattered close by to take back their stances, surrounding Ahsoka and drawing their blasters. She ignited her lighsaber, taking a defensive stance and nodding towards the Captain, who’s powerful voice echoed through the hangar. “Begin!”.

The clones started firing in an arbitrary manner, the Padawan moving swiftly and deflecting the shots. Lexie’s gaze moved back to Rex, who was pacing slowly outside the training circle, taking in his armor, his straight posture, and the fascinating design that adorned his helmet. She wondered what it represented and whether it would be too intrusive to ask him about it later.

Suddenly Ahsoka was on the floor, after being hit by two blaster shots from two different directions. “1 minute 52”, the Captain announced as two of the troopers gently moved the Padawan back to the wall, leaning her against it in the same position that Lexie had first seen her in upon entering the hangar.

“Isn’t this a bit extreme?”, Lexie asked Anakin, gesturing to the, once again, unconscious Padawan.

“It’s good practice for her. If she can take on Rex’s men, she’ll be ready for anything on a battlefield”, was his reply.

“They’re that good, huh?”, she raised her eyebrows with amusement, glancing at Rex who had just re-joined them where they were stood.

“Care to find out?”, Anakin asked with a sly grin.

“Yeah no. Getting shot at by clone troopers isn’t really on my to-do list for today”, she answered rolling her eyes. The Captain slightly smiled at that.

“Could be good practice for you too you know. You’ve been out of the game for quite a while. What, you worried you wouldn’t even last 10 minutes?” he pushed.

“Pff! I could easily last 10 minutes, don’t be ridiculous”, Lexie replied, starting to get irritated. Anakin had a way of getting under her skin sometimes, bringing out her competitive nature in a second. But his words also struck a sensitive cord. He was right, she had been out of the game for quite a long while. What if she couldn’t use her lightsabers as well as she could before being in a coma? Her connection to the Force had felt weaker since she had woken up, what if she couldn’t use it properly anymore? Her hand instinctively lifted to her chest, fingers tracing small circles on her sternum. She truly was worried.

“What about a friendly wager then? If you can last more than 10 minutes, I will buy all your drinks next time we go out. But if you’re stunned before the 10-minute mark, you deal with the next five troops inspections”, Anakin said.

“The next five? Why five?”, Lexie asked confused.

“Well I thought we’d share the general duties now that you’re here, and so we would’ve alternated on inspections. But if you lose the bet you just take the next five off of my hands”, he explained, sly grin still present on his face.

“Alright, fine”. She agreed after a pause, taking off her cloak. She could never resist it when Anakin bet that she couldn’t do something, the need to prove herself always getting the better of her.

“Get the men ready, Rex”, Anakin said as the two of them watched Lexie make her way to the centre of the hangar. “And Captain”, he continued, lowering his voice so she wouldn’t hear, “make sure I don’t have to pay for those drinks, will you?”

The Captain nodded, used to his general’s antics by now. He put his helmet on and ordered the men back to their places. Lexie watched as the clones encircled her, glancing quickly at the designs on their armor, her eyes stopping at a familiar handprint on one of the troopers. Echo. She couldn’t be sure if he met her eyes through the black visor of his helmet, but she threw a small smile towards him anyway.

Echo gave her a nod in recognition, and so did the trooper next to him, who Lexie concluded must be Fives. The design on his helmet caught her eye, it was more ornate than Echo’s simple stripes, with a few dots or red among a blue shape. Is that like a serpent or something? Looking at the two of them compared to the rest of the troopers she could actually tell that they were new additions to the battalion, only their helmets and upper part of their armour being customised with the 501st blue.

Lexie was surprised to see that Captain Rex had taken a place in the training circle, drawing his dual blaster pistols. “Ready, General?”, his helmet-modulated voice asked.

Lexie unhooked her two lightsabers from her belt and ignited the yellow blades, taking a defensive stance. “Ready”, she said, trying to appear confident. She pushed away the worry and closed her eyes for a few moments, trying to feel through the Force the intention of the trooper who would fire first.

She swiftly turned her body as a trigger was pulled behind her and deflected the shot with ease. The next two shots came from the Captain and she deflected those too, moving rhythmically with all the shots that followed. Wielding her sabers, she felt like she was dancing a comforting dance, the steps all too familiar, the hum of the blades her favourite melody. Minutes were passing and her confidence was growing, feeling herself fall back in sync with the Force. She was doing well, she was back to being herself, she didn’t need to worry about failing right?

She sensed Rex about to pull the trigger again, and turned to face him, seeing the pistol he was holding in his raised right hand. Only the shot never came, he had put the safety on before he pulled the trigger. The one in his left hand, lowered by his hip, was still armed however, and Rex quickly fired it. Lexie’s eyes went wide with shock as she tried to move her lightsaber, but did not have time to deflect the blast. Everything went black and her body dropped on the floor.

Lexie’s hand lifted to her head as she slowly regained consciousness. What just happened? She was on the floor, her back rested against the cold, durasteel wall. Her eyes darted around the hangar, an LAAT had taken the spot where she had stood deflecting blaster shots just a moment ago. A moment for her, anyway.

Embarrassment filled her mind as she remembered being shot. How did she not sense Rex’s intention to deceive her? Her connection to the Force was clearly not strong enough anymore. He wasn’t force-sensitive, she should’ve known what he was going to do, she should’ve know it was a ruse. Hell, she should’ve noticed him putting the safety on his gun. Did she at least win that stupid bet?

“How are you feeling, General?” she heard a voice from her right.

“Like I got shot with a kriffin’ stun gun”, Lexie replied drily and heard a small chuckle. She looked up towards the voice, where Captain Rex was stood, holding his helmet between his left hand and his hip. His right hand was extended towards Lexie, which she accepted, his strong grip pulling her up from the ground as if she weighed nothing.

“You made good time Sir, 9 minutes and 48 seconds”, Rex announced.

Lexie frowned. She lost, she hated losing. “You tricked me. I can’t believe you tricked me”. A frown appeared on Rex’s face at her words and she cringed at the realisation of how it must’ve sounded. “No I-I didn’t mean it like that”. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re not force-sensitive, I should’ve sensed it, I… just… don’t mind me”. She looked around the hangar again. “Where is Anakin? How long was I out?”.

“A little over an hour. General Skywalker finished with Commander Tano’s training about 20 minutes ago and left to brief the Council on our latest campaign. He instructed me to give you a tour of the base once you wake up, if you wanted it, maybe introduce you to some of the men”. Rex stated matter-of-factly.

Without anything to distract her anymore, that nagging feeling returned to the back of Lexie’s mind. She looked Rex in the eye, urging her mind to figure out what it was that she was feeling. His facial expression was stern and professional, but his eyes were so warm and kind; staring into them she felt… safe?

She tried to gauge what he was feeling but his mental walls were exemplary. She would have to push her way into his mind if she were to read him properly, but she didn’t like doing that, it was too invasive and disrespectful. She decided she just had to ignore that strange feeling. “Thank you, I would appreciate a tour. Lead the way, Captain”.

Rex started by taking her from the smaller repairs hangar they were in to the main hangar, providing her with basic info on the various ships and vehicles the battalion had at its disposal. He then took her to the command level, walking her by offices, pointing out the one that was his and an empty one close to it that Lexie could use. At the end of the hallway he showed her to the main briefing room, a large holo-table at its centre. The room was crowded with multiple clones in grey officer’s uniforms milling around. Lexie quickly left the room before she was noticed, motioning for Rex to follow her back into the hallway.

“They all looked busy, I didn’t want them to have to stop what they were doing just to salute and all that”. She explained upon seeing his confusion.

Rex gave her a half-smile. He had noticed her uneasiness every time they passed a trooper that stopped at attention to salute her. “You’ll get used to it, Sir”, he tried to reassure her. Lexie gave a small smile in return. This wasn’t good, he could see right through her. She needed to get her anxiety under control, you’re a Jedi, for kriff’s sake, act like one.

They continued on their tour, Rex taking her to one of the upper levels of the large building. He explained that General Skywalker had asked to have a private room on the base, finding it useful to not always have to head back to the Temple after returning from long, tiring missions, or for the occasions the battalion had to depart from Coruscant in the early hours of the morning. It was only fair, therefore, to offer her the same courtesy.

The room he showed her was small but not too small. On the right side, just as you entered, there was a simple metal desk and chair, while on the left side there was a bed, barely big enough to be considered a double. The head of the bed was sat against the wall of the refresher, which was also small, but it did have a private shower. Lexie looked to the two rows of drawers under the bed, she should bring a couple changes of clothes over later that day.

“These private rooms are all standard-built. It’s pretty much identical to the one you will have aboard the Resolute”, Rex informed her.

“I think it’ll do quite nicely. I do hate having to sneak back into the Temple whilst drunk, so this place should be very useful”, she tried to joke.

“Do you often have to drunkenly sneak back into the Jedi Temple, Sir?”, Rex asked with an amused expression.

Shit. That backfired. “No! no, not often. Well… sometimes. but it’s not like a regular thing”. He’s gonna think I’m a kriffing alcoholic, why did I have to say that? “One needs to blow off some steam from time to time. You know what that’s like surely.”

“I’m not a big drinker, Sir.” He replied, amusement still visible in his eyes.

Of course he’s not. Lexie lifted her fist to her mouth, clearing her throat. “Do you have a private room too, Captain, or do you have to sleep in the communal dormitory?”, she asked, wanting to move on from the subject.

“I do have one Sir, but it’s not on this level. It’s on the same level as the rest of the clones’ dormitories and the mess hall. I can take you there next.”

“To your private room?”, Lexie asked arching her eyebrows.

“T-The mess, Sir. I-I wasn’t suggesting…”, it was his turn now to get flustered.

“Relax, Captain, I was teasing”, she lifted her palms up in reassurance. “You said you’ll introduce me to some of the men. I assume the mess hall is where we’ll find most of them at this hour?”

Rex nodded and started walking towards the lifts, Lexie following close behind.

“I’ve actually met three of your men last night, or well, technically only two, didn’t actually speak to Jesse”, she said breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence they were walking in.

“Really Sir?”, the Captain asked, a bit taken aback.

“Yeah, I somehow ended up at the 79s and had a very nice conversation with Echo. And an interesting interaction with Fives”.

Rex let out a sigh. “Do I have to reprimand Fives for inappropriate behaviour?”

 Lexie laughed. Troublemaker, I knew it. “No, Captain, it’s alright”.

            As they reached the mess hall, Lexie could hear muffled voices and laughter from behind the durasteel door. She was starting to get anxious again, feeling bad for disturbing the men during their lunchtime. The door slid open and Lexie followed Rex in, taking in the large room and the multiple long tables inside it. The mess was fairly crowded with clones spread out in little groups, enjoying a meal and a chat amongst themselves.

The Captain stopped at a table close to the entrance, introducing Lexie to a couple of pilots, Hawk and Fireball, and a sergeant named Appo, who all shot up from their seats, standing at attention. She made small talk after insisting they sat back down and continued their meals, going over the basic pleasantries.

Rex then guided her towards a table more to the back of the room where she could see Echo and Fives sat next to Jesse and opposite two other clones. As he saw her approach, Echo hit Fives with the back of his hand and hurriedly got up from his seat, the other clones following suit after a quick glance towards Lexie and their captain.

 “At ease, men”, Rex said, trying to spare Lexie from any uneasiness.

 “Good to see you again, General”, Fives was the first one to speak, followed immediately by a “yes it’s good to see you again, General” from Echo. Living up to his name, Lexie chuckled to herself.

 Rex introduced Jesse, remembering that she stated they had not actually been introduced the previous night.

“It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m sorry I had to leave before we could get a chance to talk last night”, she said as she shook the lieutenant’s hand.

 “No worries General, we can fix that the next time you’re at the 79s”, Jesse said with a smile, causing Rex’s eyes to narrow in disapproval.

The Captain then introduced the other two clones as Hardcase and Kix. Hardcase’s grip on her hand was very firm and the handshake very energetic, making Lexie raise her eyebrows in surprise and prompting Kix to apologise for his brother’s hyperactive nature. She took in his appearance, noting the blue lines tattooed on his head and face. His Force signature felt just as full of energy.

Kix, in contrast, had a more gentle touch when shaking her hand, he was a medic after all. Her eyes darted over the lightning bolt design of the tattoos that covered most of his head. She noticed the Aurebesh on the left side of his scalp and tilted her head in order to read it. A good droid is a dead one.

“Does that apply to protocol droids too?”, she asked playfully.

“It does if they’re Separatist protocol droids”, Kix replied with a chuckle.

“That’s a valid point”, she chuckled as well.

Captain Rex had taken a few steps back during the rest of their conversation, answering a commlink from General Skywalker. He returned to the group just as Lexie was laughing at something Fives had said.

“Sorry to interrupt Sir, General Skywalker is waiting for us in the briefing room”.

“Thank you Captain”. She turned back to the table. “Nice talking to you boys”.

The troopers nodded their goodbyes, except for Fives, who winked at Lexie, making her roll her eyes with a smile. She turned back to the Captain who was starring daggers at Fives.

“You better lead the way again Captain, I have no idea how to get back to the command level”.

Rex did as he was told.

[roseaesynstylae]

I have several headcanons for how Scorch ended up how he did in The Bad Batch. *cracks knuckles*

Shortly after being forced to leave Sev behind on Kashyyyk and the declaration of the Empire, Scorch was sent to Daro along with Gregor to train new recruits. Despite Boss and Fixer's wishes, they were not allowed to accompany him and were sent on a separate mission. Still pained over leaving Sev behind and influenced by his inhibitor chip, Scorch went along with it.

After the Bad Batch's infiltration into Daro, Scorch was in trouble with his superiors due to his lackluster performance (thank his chip for that) but Hemlock requested his transfer to Tantiss. This was not out of the good of his heart.

Considering how brainwashed the X Troopers were, I'm convinced that Hemlock tested the process on at least a few clones outside of them. Like, oh, I don't know, a decorated clone commando who was just assigned to his giant laboratory? The result was the complete destruction of Scorch's personality and a significant reduction in skill. However, even with his competency seriously reduced, Scorch was still far better than most other clone troopers at Tantiss. He was kept around as Hemlock's fanatically loyal enforcer, a man who barely recalled his past and felt nothing over it.

Looking at it this way, Scorch's fate in The Bad Batch becomes less a waste of a good character and more a tragic look at the Empire's callousness.