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yellowocaballero · 3 years ago

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No Chips AU: Rex Finds His Choice

They pulled Rex out of class.

The supervisor paused his flash training module for him, simultaneously making his head spin and convincing him that they were under attack. But the supervisor just informed him that the Batch Supervisor wanted to speak with him, so leave immediately and return post-haste.

The other cadets didn’t stare at Rex as he slipped out of his seat, but that was just because they were too focused on their flash training. Rex didn’t want to see the looks they would have given him - or, worse, the way they would have avoided looking at him - but he couldn’t help but want them to notice he was leaving.

Rex resigned himself to his fate as he walked down the long, winding hallways, his hall pass thumping against his neck on its thin string. 7588 would miss him. 7599 for sure, they were best friends. Actually, he was pretty sure everybody would miss him. They’d all skip class and hold a big funeral. There’d be a pyre and everything. Maybe they’d all revolt, and Rex could be a martyr for their revolutionary cause.

Last one of these (hopefully...). This is the one that provides answers for the rest of the stories in this AU, I think. I think it's the one that fully realizes the fact that this story's arcs (and Cody's specifically) is about cycles of abuse.

30k (I'M SORRY) of parenting of varying quality under the cut, Mandalore as a metaphor, and...finally...women.

They pulled Rex out of class.

Yeah, right.

Rex tried to imagine as many good scenarios as he could - more genetic testing, like when he was a kid - or at least scenarios that didn’t have anything to do with him - like if the trainers were tracking down the origin of the smuggling ring. But the number of good scenarios he thought of didn’t last the entire way to the Batch Supervisor’s office, and by the end of it he was already mentally writing his inspirational deathbed words to give his brothers strength in the coming days.

He knocked on the door, and waited the one-two-three before the door slid open. The minute the doors opened fully he saluted, statue perfect.

“Sir, CT-7567 reporting!”

Batch Supervisor was sitting on a chair inside the office, and they impatiently waved Rex in. That had featured in every one of the simulations Rex had thought up, so he was prepared for that. What he hadn’t counted on was Jango Fett being there too, standing opposite the Batch Supervisor and scowling.

Rex quickly dropped the salute, walking inside and standing at attention instead. He had to work really hard not to boggle at Prime, but it was super hard. He was so tall. Super tall. And big. Look at that armor! Wow! Rex saw him around all the time, but not this close. Rex had never noticed that he smelled weird. Not like everything else. But it was a cool weird. With that weird smell, Prime didn’t really resemble any of them at all.

Prime looked down at him, squinting. Rex stood as tall as he physically could, fighting a sweat. He stopped and stared at the hair, just like everyone else, and Rex had to fight embarrassment. He had gotten over it by now, but something about Prime looking at him made him embarrassed all over again.

Finally, in a really husky and cool voice, Prime said, “The hair?”

“It’s a defect,” Batch Supervisor said. Rex didn’t actually know their name. They steepled their hands on the desk, their thin fingers weaving in tightly between each other. “Kamino standards of quality do not allow defective products to represent our work.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rex might as well have named himself Defective Product. Def, for short. Defcon-One. That was kinda cool. The older guys had insulting names like that all the time. They said it was to ‘reclaim them’. But Rex thought that he’d rather cut out his tongue then listen to the word defective one more time.

“So you’ve said,” Prime said. He didn’t seem very impressed. He kept looking Rex up and down. Rex set his face sternly and looked back at him. Prime had a wobbly tooth. You couldn’t be scared of someone with a wobbly tooth. How’s that for a defect. “If he was so defective why’d you keep him around?”

“Observation. We needed to see if the mutation had any longer-lasting developmental issues. After five years of development, we’ve deemed it harmless.” Rex had heard this one before. He’d heard it all before. Why were they having this conversation with Prime? What did he care? “We’ve been considering relegating him to a support position, but his scores -”

“Are too good for that.” Prime cut in, looking back at Batch Supervisor. Rex fought the hard cut of horror at the words ‘support position’. That was for the defects. The real ones. Rex was a defect too, but he wasn’t like them. “For the last time, there’s no use in wasting good talent just because he’s the wrong shade.” He grabbed a datapad off the table, scrolling through the readout. He frowned at the display. “Cadet, what did you say your number was?”

“CT-7567, sir.”

Prime shot a sideways glance at him. “Got a name?” Rex looked at the floor. Prime lifted an eyebrow, but went back to the datapad. “I got it. None of my business. Here we are. What’s your marksmanship score, 7567?”

If he was looking at Rex’s file he had to know, but Rex answered the question anyway. “Perfect, sir.”

“Hm. Combat sims score?”

“Perfect.”

“Tactics score?”

“Perfect.”

“Flash training score?”

“Perfect.”

“I understand your point,” Batch Supervisor cut in testily, making Rex clamp his jaw shut, “but it’s a matter of Kaminoan standards of excellence. Our commanders are highly visible, Jango Fett. They’ll be in regular contact with the Jedi. They will be the strength of the Empire. We must put our best faces forward - if you excuse the term.”

Were they talking about…?

“You don’t know any more than this kid what it means to fight a Jedi,” Prime said flatly. “They’re dangerous, vicious bastards, and some little mass produced soldiers won’t cut it. Numbers can only get you so far. You need talent. The cadet has more talent than most of those little droids you have me training, and I want him in my class.”

“I’m afraid the administrative division is not under your supervision,” Batch Supervisor said. They didn’t sound very happy with Jango, but Rex could barely even hear them over the thump of his heard in his ears. Talent. I want him in my class. Talent. “You may bring up the matter with Uan Be if you wish.”

“Who also gave me the runaround.” Prime tossed his datapad on the desk, letting it skitter on the hard plastoid. He looked down at Rex instead, expectant and strange. “And you, 7567?” He seemed so big, impossibly strong. Would Rex ever look so strong? Maybe blonde people couldn’t ever look that powerful. ‘“What do you think?”

Well. Hit by a drop, hit by a wave. “I can’t hit a target with no gun, sir.”

Both Prime and Batch Supervisor stared at Rex for a long second, and Rex had to fight to keep himself from wincing. There’s that legendary Rex mouth again. Ponds were right, he really wasn’t built to last -

Prime smirked, and he looked back at Batch Supervisor. “Well? You heard him. His ranking doesn’t matter in the long run. Let me train him, make sure he ends up close to a Jedi, and I’ll stop bothering you.”

Batch Supervisor stared at Prime, blinking long and slow, and Rex’s head spun with the heard death experience. Finally, they dipped their head in a nod. “Acceptable. I will file the schedule reassignments immediately.”

Talent. I want him in my class. Talent. You heard him.

“Switch him into the CC bunks too,” Prime said off-handedly. “It’s important for team development. I’ll walk him to his new class.”

Batch Supervisor inclined their head at Prime, even as he already began turning to leave. “A pleasure to work with you, Jango Fett.”

Prime muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath as Rex rushed to keep up with him. The door slid shut behind them with a strange finality, and Rex had to fight to stop himself from jumping.

Command classes. Not command track, but since Rex was lucky to be alive he couldn’t really complain - command classes! They were going to give him a Jedi, they were going to make him important, he’d be a hero, a real hero, he was going to train with Jango Fett - !

“Somebody’s excited.”

Rex fought hard not to flush. He was already hyper conscious of how close he should walk next to Prime. Should he walk just a little behind, like they were marching? Or should he walk a little apart from him, so Prime could speak to him easier? He obviously wanted to talk to him, there was no way Prime would walk him to class otherwise - he was already talking to him!

“Uh,” Rex said, “yeahIguesssoIdunno.”

“Mumbling’s for the half-hearted.”

Stupid! Rex straightened, and he made himself look at Prime in the eyes. Rex wasn’t half-hearted. Rex was double, triple hearted! “Why did you help me?”

That surprised Prime, although Rex didn’t know why. “What makes you think it was about you?”

Their footsteps echoed long and empty throughout the halls, and for the first time Rex thought that Prime didn’t quite fit. He was too tall, with the wrong proportions. A clone belonged here, the Kamino. Elegant, perfect, and graceful - all of them. But Prime and the trainers didn’t. They were too rough and dirty. It was weird - this place was Prime’s, why did it look like he didn’t belong here?

“There’s lots of cadets with good scores. Some’a them got attitude problems and that’s why they aren’t promoted. 7744’s the best shot in Kamino but he’s not a good talker so they aren’t putting him in snipe class. Why are you helping me?”

Prime looked down at him, expression flat and inscrutable. “I saw your scores from a year ago.” Rex froze. “They’re a bit different from your scores today, aren’t they?”

Rex didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know they could work you harder than they do. But you worked yourself harder. You made yourself top of the class. You know how many of your brothers have that drive? Almost none.” He snorted, looking back down the long and winding halls. “You can’t mass produce a warrior. None of you know what real hardship is like. You’ll never understand the real galaxy.” Okay? “But you know what it’s like to have the system hate you because of an accident of your birth. I need more soldiers like that.”

Rex couldn’t tear his eyes away from Prime. He seemed even larger now. Even more powerful. To Rex, in that moment, the man could punch a hurricane. For a wild, crazy, stupid second, it seemed that Prime would punch anything that was messing with Rex. “I won’t let you down, sir! I’ll - I’ll be the best of the CCs, too!”

They came to a stop in front of an unfamiliar door, leading to an unfamiliar classroom. Jango smirked a little, thumbing the door open. “Go ahead and tell them that, won’t you?”

The door opened to a gang of cadets, sitting on the floor and talking amongst themselves. One of them was sitting a little apart from the others, drawing on a piece of flimsi. Two of them were trying to kick each other, increasingly ineffectually. One was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Another was reading a datapad, bored. Of course, Rex recognized them all immediately.

They all looked up when Prime and Rex entered. The cadet holding the datapad dropped it, eyes wide and growing wider. The cadet drawing on the flimsi blinked, then went back to drawing.

Prime grinned, clapping Rex on the back and making him stumble. “Welcome to your new classmate, cadets. This is CT -”

“Rex!”

The clone with the datapad scrambled upwards, running over, and in an unprecedented and mind-boggling act of impropriety he hugged Rex fiercely. Rex fought the urge to squeak, overwhelmed, but he hugged the other boy back.

“Hi, Kote,” Rex muttered. “Surprise…”

“Is that his name?” Prime asked, before pausing a beat. “Is that a hug?”

“Oh no,” 3636 groaned, “he’s following us to class?”

Ponds used the opening to land a final kick on 3636’s leg, making him hiss, before scrambling upwards. “He’s not supposed to be here, Prime,” Ponds said snootily. Rex stuck his tongue out at him. “He’s a - he’s sticking his tongue out at me!”

“He’s supposed to be here if Prime says he’s supposed to be here,” Kote said heatedly. He quickly stopped hugging Rex, as if embarrassed, but he kept a hand on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t say Prime’s wrong, would you?”

“I would say Rex’s face is wrong!”

“I thought that was his hair?” 5052 said, not looking up from his flimsi.

“You guys talk too much,” 1010 said, not moving up from the floor.

“I love walking in on your bizarre little dynamics,” Prime muttered.

Rex squinted up at him. “Mumbling’s for the half-hearted,” he said reproachfully.

Prime kneaded the bridge of his nose before making a sharp hand motion, cutting silent all of the squabble. He walked away from Rex, leaving Kote to sling an arm around his shoulders and hug him again before separating, and walked closer to the center of the room. He craned his head to look at 5052’s drawing, pulling a face. “And…what’s that supposed to be, 5052?”

“It’s a battle,” 5052 said serenely. “See, it’s us and you fighting the Evil Jedi. Except for this Jedi here. He’s a good Jedi, because he switched sides and joined us instead. He took the Resol’nare so he’s not a Jedi anymore, he’s a Mandalorian like us. We’re fighting on this big planet that’s entirely in the sky, above the clouds so it doesn’t rain, and -”

“You are the weirdest one,” Prime said, almost impressed.

“Enough recreation,” Kote barked, as best as he could. He always said ‘recreation’ like it was a bad word. “Everybody line up!” Everybody scrambled off their feet and lined up, although a bit more resentfully than if Prime had said it. Kote looked up at Prime, lowering his voice. “Did they really…”

What? Had Kote done this? Jango just shook his head minutely. “I got him in the classes, but they wouldn’t agree to promote him. Maybe I should have shown them your ten minute presentation, verd’ika.”

“But you did it!” Kote hissed. Rex watched in wonder as his face lit up, as pure joy spread across his face. Rex had never seen him so happy before. Ponds rolled his eyes. 1010 squinted sleepily. Rex recognized for the first time that he squinted just like Prime. “Thank you, thank you -”

“I don’t do favors,” Prime said coldly, and Rex watched as Kote’s face completely shut down back into his professional cadet face. “And I don’t waste talent. If he got in, it’s by his own merits. So don’t spoil him with all that kiddy crap.”

In barely a second, Kote was standing neatly and professionally away from Rex, as if they were next to each other in the reveille line. “Yes, sir!”

3636 threw his hand in the air. “Does this mean we get to beat Rex up in akaniir class?” He elbowed 1010, who didn’t react. “Tens, did you hear that, we’re gonna beat up Rex -”

“I heard you the first time,” 1010 said, bored.

“You never act like you’ve heard me -”

“You never act like you have a thought in your brain.”

“Hold on,” Prime said, somewhat overwhelmed, “Kote, if everybody in this room hates Rex, then you should have mentioned that. If he’s a risk to group cohesion then that’s a problem.”

Every cadet stared at him, baffled. 3636 scratched his head, wondering why wanting to beat someone up would mean that he didn’t like them. 5052 silently held up a new piece of paper, showing everybody killing Evil Jedi together with Rex. They were all smiling.

Prime sighed. He lightly pushed at Kote and Rex’s backs, sending them scrambling into tight formation right next to each other. He stood in front of the line, hands clasped behind his back in a mirror of their own poses, and Rex couldn’t stop himself from almost vibrating with excitement.

This was it. This was it. This was everything Rex had worked so hard for. More than that - this was everything Kote had worked so hard for.

It wasn’t just Rex’s talent or his hard work. It was Kote. Rex just knew that Kote had petitioned his case to Prime, that he had worn him down enough to stand up for Rex. It was so embarrassing how Kote was always looking out for him, always helping him - but it made Rex feel good too, warm and fiery inside. Whatever the opposite of a thunderstorm was. That was Kote - the opposite of everything cold and harsh in their little world.

Even when Kote was cold and harsh, he never really meant it. And Kote really could be cold and harsh sometimes, but - but Rex knew that Kote only ever really wanted Rex to be successful and heroic like he deserved.

In that second, Rex knew that he’d never be able to repay Kote for this. This made them blood brothers. This made them kin. Rex would take a blaster for this guy.

“Remember the purpose of your mission, cadets.” Prime stared them all down evenly, and Rex’s spine tingled. His eyes didn’t look anything like theirs. There was something really different in them. Somehow, they were as shallow as a tidepool and as deep as an underwater trench. “It’s not about this Republican military shit. Real Mandalorian militaries aren’t anything like this farce. We work on an honor system. We follow the strongest leaders, and you will follow the Jedi so long as they are the strongest. But the Jedi’s character and morals are weak, and that is why you and your brothers will succeed.” Prime swept them with a long, keen eye, and Rex felt his eyes linger on him. “Despite everything you are lacking, your mission makes you worthy to call yourself Mandalorians. The strength of your character and your values make you Mandalorians. This group, and a few other elite soldiers, have the drive and spirit to call themselves Mandalorians. You have to fight for it. You have to earn it. And if you slack, then you will lose it.”

Not Rex. Rex wouldn’t lose it. Not ever, ever, ever - ever!

“Now get to work - I want to see formation five, now. Rex, you’ll play enemy combatant until you pick it up. Everyone else, show Rex how it’s done. After he’s done, 5052 will swap in. Then 3636. Get going.”

“Yes, sir!” Everyone chorused, as 5052 stuffed the flimsi further in his pocket.

And, in the last split-second before they peeled away, Kote reached out and took Rex’s hand. Lightning fast, body carefully angled so Prime couldn’t see, Kote whispered, “Congrats. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Rex beamed.

And, despite the way they all wanted to dunk his head in a ‘fresher, 3636 clapped him on the back, Ponds ran his hand through his blonde hair, 5052 smiled shyly at him, 1010 pretended he didn’t exist - or maybe he just hadn’t noticed, 1010 was super spacey - and Kote pulled everybody into formation and battle readiness.

Rex settled into his position in front of the formation, preparing himself to play the enemy.

*********************************************************

“I yield, I yield - let me up, you shabuir!”

Rex laughed, but he rolled off Jesse anyway. The bastard took a cheap shot at his knees, but Rex easily dodged it and jumped to his feet. He thumped his chest with both hands, letting the assorted cheers and Oya Rex! calls echo through the training room.

Training rooms on a Star Destroyer could get pretty big - which, considering their brass, made sense - but this one was fairly small. The Jedi had their own insanely fortified ones, with the lightsaber resistant drones and the unmeltable floors and everything, but a basic training room was good enough for clones. All you needed was a mat, a shower, and the willingness to beat your brother until some black was added to his blue. A few days in transit with absolutely nothing to do tended to help the average clone’s lust for fratricide. And Jedi-cide, but only if they happened to be on the same ship as Qui-Gon Jinn. Rex was honestly amazed Cody had held on this long.

“That’s five to zero,” Kix said, not looking up from his datapad. He was sitting on the bleachers with the rest of the 501st brothers. The impromptu spars only had 501st in attendance today - something Rex liked to think was a natural result of their incredible battle prowess, but was in reality because he knew that their victory yelling sometimes grew annoying. “Anyone else feel like giving Rex a good akaanir? Or a good kick in the shebs?”

“Oh, oh! I do!” Hardcase jumped off the bleachers, already cracking his neck. “Come on, Captain, I bet I can pin you this time!”

“I pinned you the last two times,” Rex said, tossing a sweaty towel at him and letting him dodge. “Come on, give me a better fight out here - Echo?”

Echo was also sitting next to Kix, also scrolling on a datapad. Wow, check out the nerd corner over there. “Sorry, Captain. Got reports.”

“Yeah, Captain,” Kix said, “it’s not exactly our day off, you know.”

“This is training,” Rex protested. “That’s work, isn’t it? Come on, it’s educational.”

“There is a 90% probability the only reason you aren’t a CC is because you don’t want the paperwork,” Echo said.

“Fives, hit Echo for me.” Fives obligingly hit Echo on the back of the head, making him hiss and wince. “Good man. Hey, Echo, if you fight me then I’ll have the kid do your formwork.”

Echo looked up, scandalized. “You can’t make our superiors do our formwork -”

“Sure can. Kid does everyone’s formwork. He’ll never notice.” Rex would say that he’s never met anybody so desperate to be helpful, but - well, he remembered himself at that age. Sometimes he wondered what the kid’s defect was. Whatever it was, only he could see it. He switched to Mando’a, exaggeratedly thumping his chest. “Come on, swear on my spirit.”

Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Echo was a clone and his only joy in life was violence. He sighed and put the datapad down, but when Fives started supportively Oya Echo’ing his friend, he broke out into a wide grin and cracked his neck the same as the rest of them.

Rex grabbed a handheld sonic fan and ran it over his face before tossing it aside, turning to face Echo. They settled at opposite ends of the ring, eyeing each other up, before diving to meet each other.

They were 501st, and even the nerdiest among them put up a good fight. Handpicked by Kamino to form the perfect team, with a wide array of skills from martial to tactical to splicing, they were built for the hardest missions and the highest success rate. Only the best made it in, and only the best survived.

As old Prime would say, may his soul march on etc, the mando’kar showed. The mando’kar survived. And Rex was pretty sure that the 501st had the strongest mando’kar in the GAR. You could hardly kill Jedi without it.

Or droids. The clankers were the important thing right now. All the rest of that came later.

Despite Five’s frequent loud protests to give Echo a desk job, he was good. He tricked Rex into over-extending himself on a punch, and seized the smallest and quickest opening to tackle him straight onto the ground. Rex hit the ground hard, head bouncing on the mat, and he fought hard to focus his eyes.

He was facing the bleachers directly, and as his vision swimmed he could have sworn that he caught a small tan blur right underneath the bleachers. Almost invisible, and definitely imperceptible without a position flat on the ground. But there - a blur, with eyes that widened as they saw Rex looking right at them.

“Commander?”

Echo, from where he was about to grapple Rex into submission, toppled over onto his ass.

Every clone in the room startled upwards on reflex. Kix almost dropped his datapad, and his quick dive to save it meant that he found the Commander first. He twisted backwards, peering behind the bleachers and into the gap between the bleachers and the wall, and whatever he saw there elicited a strangled noise that Rex normally only heard when he tore his stitches.

“Uh,” Rex heard the Commander say, high and reedy, “don’t stop on my account?”

Rex rolled upwards, Echo scrambling up with him. Hardcase and Tup were exchanging panicked glances, and Rex saw Jesse visibly rack his brain to try and remember if they had said anything incriminating. Fives, who was more than aware that they had been speaking a lot of Mando’a, buried his face in his hands.

“Why don’t you come out from there, Commander,” Kix said, with a deceptively mild deadpan. The kid, who was not stupid, scrambled out from behind the bleachers immediately. Kix turned a gimlet eye on the rest of the crowd, who were masterfully trying to hide their mortification. “Should I ask who forgot to lock the door?”

“Nobody forgot!” The Commander was rumpled all over, his neat Jedi outfit in disarray and his ginger hair sticking up in all directions. Almost as if he had been hiding under bleachers watching clones beat each other up. “I’ve been working on my splicing skills, an educational pursuit highly encouraged by my training modules. And when I saw you guys engaging in another educational activity, I figured I ought to expand my horizons and learn from the best! In an observational setting!”

Rex wanted to strangle whatever five hundred year old Jedi taught children to talk like this. He fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling Prime’s spirit (may his soul march on etc) course through him. “Commander. Why were you hiding under the bleachers?”

To his credit, the Commander gave up his smooth talk as a lost cause. “I wasn’t planning on sneaking in, honest! I came in while you guys were showering and by the time I realized what was going on it would have been weird to sneak out.” That explains how he got in without them noticing. The GAR’s best couldn’t notice one thirteen year old in a room, but hopefully missing him entering a room was beyond them. “And then - and then you were being so cool!”

Rex glanced at the rest of the men, who were all doing an increasingly worse job of hiding shock. “Cool?”

The Commander nodded fervently. He hopped on his toes a little, full of boundless tween energy, mimicking some shadow punches. “You totally wiped the floor with Hardcase! You really used a low center of gravity and relied on steady footwork! Oh, but in your match with Echo, you took advantage of his more precise moves and pressed your advantages instead!”

“You really think so?” Rex asked, pleased despite himself.

“Sure! See, in my fights, your strategy always changes based on the other person’s reach and strength. But you guys don’t worry about that in your spars with each other! It all comes down to skill!”

The discomfort with tween Jedi interrupting private clone training warred with 501st pride. As usual, the 501st pride won out. “We are the most skilled battalion in the GAR,” Jesse said. “We’re the best of the best, kid. Other troopers would cut off their left arms to train with us.”

The kid’s eyes were as big as hubcaps. Rex found himself standing straighter, as if he was an eight year old cadet swaggering around impressing the five and six year olds. “Really?”

“Sure am,” Rex said, ignoring Kix slicing his hand across his throat. “I ever tell you that I was top of my class in just about everything?”

“Really?”

“I was top of my class in tactics,” Fives said, unnecessarily aggressive. “You ain’t that special, Captain.”

“If you’re so great why aren’t you Captain?”

“Because I didn’t have nepotism on my side -”

“Excuse you -”

“If you’re going to fight, can you use those grappling based maneuvers again?” The Commander asked happily. “I think that chokehold would be a really handy silent and nonlethal takedown method to learn!”

Every one of those grappling moves was deeply Mandalorian. Everybody looked at each other, battling out arguments in silent eyebrow twitches. As Hardcase, Fives, and Tup got distracted with yet another eye-based insult match, Kix and Rex just stared at each other grimly.

They could not fraternize with the brass. That wasn’t even a rule, in the same way ‘don’t stare down the business end of your blaster while squeezing the trigger’ wasn’t a rule. None of them had even expected it to be a problem. The Jedi were supposed to be cold and uncaring, aloof and holier-than-thou.

It wasn’t as if any of them had fraternized with the trainers. Rex had gotten more face time with Jango than the majority of the army, and even he didn’t exactly go out for drinks with the guy. And Jango wasn’t an evil, spineless coward who stood in the way of the indombinable Empire and galactic peace. It shouldn’t have to be a rule not to stop and chat with power-hungry despots who wanted to seize power from the Emperor and topple the Sith Empire.

From behind the kid, Kix conveyed with extremely pointed eyebrows, ‘those grapples are Mandalorian moves and he cannot learn them!’.

Slowly, with as much firm command as Rex could muster, he said, “I’m sorry, sir, but you aren’t supposed to be in here. I’ll have to escort you back to the higher decks.”

The kid froze, eyebrows pulled deep in thought, before slowly relaxing. He wound his fingers behind his back, rocking slowly on the balls of his feet in faux-innocence.

“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. When you hide in a training room, you pick up a lot of stuff you aren’t supposed to hear.” Why did Rex have a sinking feeling in his gut? “Like, I dunno…you hear certain people make backroom deals to falsify formwork.”

Rex blanched. Echo made a very embarrassing sound.

“Uh,” Rex said, sweating, “Commander, I don’t know what you may have heard, but -”

“I didn’t hear anything,” the Commander said blithely. “I definitely didn’t hear you planning to trick your General’s young padawan into falsifying your formwork for you. Because I’m not sure Commander Cody would like that.”

Rex began seeing his own death. “Sir -”

“Of course, I’m sure that I’d completely forget about anything I didn’t hear if -”

“Alright, alright! I’ll show you the move! Kriff, kid!”

Heedless to the complete compromise of opsec, uncaring of Rex’s abject embarrassment, cold to Kix burying his head in his hands, Hardcase broke into peals of laughter. Tup frantically tried to slap him on the head and shut him up, but Hardcase just pushed him off.

“Ah, man, he got you - get got by the cadet, man!”

“He did not ‘get’ me!” Rex snapped. “You’re all accomplices, you know!”

“I’m the victim here,” Echo said loudly. “Make sure you tell Commander Cody that the Captain was blackmailing us too, Commander.”

“Ne'johaa, Echo, on my sword -”

“Yeah, Echo,” the Commander said delightedly, “nedge-oha!”

Everybody turned terrified looks on each other but Rex, who desperately tried to keep a neutral face while silently screaming as loud as he could - now we’re teaching him fucking Mando’a!

Teaching him Mando’a, teaching him Mandalorian grappling moves, might as well give him the fucking Resol’nare now, not that Rex had ever been allowed to take it -

But maybe it was alright. He was Lord Vader’s apprentice, wasn’t he? He couldn’t be all bad. The Emperor had probably picked him out himself. That was credibility. The Emperor wouldn’t pick out a bad kid for Lord Vader. The guy was infallible.

And the kid was giggling into his hands, watching Tup frantically try to push Echo off the bleachers, and Rex found all the fight leaving him. It was pretty funny.

“One move,” Rex said loudly, and the Commander grinned widely. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“If I get the move down quick, will you teach me more of those words?” The Commander asked eagerly. “I wanna know the curses!”

“We’re not teaching you the curses!” Echo cried, scandalized. “Jedi aren’t supposed to know curses!”

“Quinlan can call someone a skinflint bastard in five languages,” the Commander said, as if this was a good point. “Come on, I want to surprise Commander Cody. He’s always telling me to get back to my learning modules instead of running around. As if you don’t learn perfectly good stuff running around!”

Everybody looked at each other. Ancient instincts reared their head.

“You know,” Rex said slowly, “I can think of a few words you can tell the Commander…if you don’t tell him that you learned them from us…”

“If you don’t mention us at all,” Fives said, silently drafting up every curse word he knew. “Whatsoever.”

Hardcase was snickering.

For the first time in his life, Rex taught a natborn a fighting move. A Mandalorian fighting move, although Rex tried not to worry about that. Tons of cultures grappled. He bet they did this exact same move on - on Devaron or something. It was not a big deal.

The kid did not pick it up quickly. Rex didn’t know why he was surprised by that. The kid’s performance on the field had shocked them all, and driven in some of Jango’s lessons about how killing the Jedi wasn’t a joke. Rex had half-expected him to be a genius or something, like his master and grandmaster and just about everyone else in his battalion. But the kid wasn’t a fast learner, even if he was a good student, and Rex found himself correcting every error in his stance as he tried again and again.

Finally, he was able to perfectly execute the move, pinning Rex to the floor. Rex gently pushed upwards, expecting to break the hold instantly, but found the kid’s legs around his shoulders like a durasteel beam. Rex tried to break the hold by prying off his hand, but his fingers were like marble.

“Looks like we’ve found the only soldier who can beat the Captain,” Tup hooted. “Not so tough are you now, huh!”

“I will give you latrine duty,” Rex huffed. He slapped the floor, and the kid finally scrambled off him. Rex wheezed, massaging his throat. “Good - good job. You got it.”

“He got you, Captain!”

“I’ll teach you that phrase now, Commander,” Rex said, deathly calm. “It’s ‘Tup is a chakaar.’”

“It means good soldier,” Kix said, seemingly not paying attention. “You should tell Commander Cody that. It’s a compliment.”

The kid was sweating hard, but he didn’t seem that proud of himself. Rex had always felt like the coolest guy in the world whenever he learned a new move, but the kid just seemed frustrated. “Teach me another one. One that’s good against a bigger guy.”

Really? Rex was exhausted. He stood up, grabbing a rag and wiping it across his face. “We just agreed to one -”

“I can do this one!” Hardcase jumped off the bleachers, cracking his neck. “Watch it, kid, I designed this move special -”

“Not a Hardcase special,” Fives groaned.

And, somehow, the one blackmailed move turned into an hour of increasingly ridiculous showcases of talents and signature moves. Fives and Rex were the only ones actually trying to give any useful lessons, while Jesse and Hardcase just got into a competition for who could show off the flashiest, most complicated move. Really useful for a beginner.

Or Rex had thought so, until the kid effortlessly did a triple backflip in the air - limited only by his feet kicking against the ceiling. For the millionth time since Rex met Lord Vader, he doubted their chances of mission success.

“I was the best duelist in my age group,” the kid had panted, running the hand sonic over his neck. They had eventually collapsed for a break, leaving Fives and Tup to argue out another useless trivia that nobody but them cared about. “Nobody else could keep up with my master, I bet. And nobody else wanted to take me, so…they just assigned me to Master.”

“Really?” Rex asked, baffled. The Commander passed the sonic to Rex, who swiped it over his own arms. “If you were the best you should have had the pick of the teachers, right?”

But the kid’s lips just twisted unhappily, no matter how hard he tried to smooth them out. “I guess. But there’s just something…I don’t know. They said I was angry. I was always getting in trouble. I never meant to get in trouble, honest. I mean, I do now, but if I was gonna get in trouble anyway…” the kid shrugged, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Sometimes I just felt like I was born wrong. I worked really hard to be the best at everything - I was at the top of every class, honest - but I still wasn’t good enough. But that’s kinda dumb, I guess.”

Rex stared at him. A strange feeling twisted up his gut - like a dead animal caught in a vacuum droid, twisting up the works and stalling it out. His gut churned and churned, but it only ate itself.

Something in his brain screamed. It screamed wrong - wrong - wrong.

Rex didn’t know what was wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking the wrong thing if he didn’t know what it was. Rex never wanted to think the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. He was a good soldier, he followed orders. He always did what was right.

But sometimes Rex couldn’t help it. He had been born wrong too. He’s always known exactly what was wrong with him, and maybe in a strange way that was lucky. He always knew what was to blame whenever he thought the wrong thing or did the wrong thing. He had the strange relief of being defective, of perfection being an impossibility, and he was left with his best efforts despite all faults.

What was wrong? Rex didn’t know. He only knew the churn in his gut, and the fact that something very wrong was making him feel so sick.

“But you guys deserve better than some mediocre padawan,” the kid said, and it was only then that Rex realized he was still talking. “So I’m going to do my best, okay? I won’t let any of you down, I promise!”

And somehow, all Rex could do was roll to his feet. He extended a hand down, and the kid looked up at him with wide eyes. “Then we better get started on that training, private.”

The kid beamed, and grabbed Rex’s hand.

Unfortunately, yet again, Rex had flown his ship too close to the hurricane. He was in the middle of teaching the kid his patented right hook (“We all have patented right hooks, Captain.”) when the kid stiffened and froze. Rex just barely halted his punch in time, almost overbalancing with his fist halfway to the kid’s face, when the door opened.

Cody stood at the doorway, expression half-frantic. The entire room froze.

Rex watched with slow horror as Cody drank in the scene. Fives and Echo wrestling each other on the ground. Kix on his datapad in the corner. Hardcase and Jesse competing with each other to see who can show the Commander the best punch. Tup, lying on the floor, exhausted. Rex, about to punch the Commander. The Commander, about to be punched.

Cody made expression number 12. A unique expression, rarely used. A fine vintage. First discovered when Cody was five and Rex was four, when he caught Rex halfway down a ladder into the sea and almost into the waiting jaws of a mneimne-kraken. Also recognized at ages 8 and 9, when he caught Rex sneaking out after hours to engage Ponds in a deathmatch for their respective honors. It was the expression, frankly, of ‘I am this close to tattling’.

The poor, idiot child perked up, waving at Cody. “Hi, Commander! The men are teaching me moves!”

Slowly, every syllable promising death, Cody grit out, “Is that so, sir.”

“Yeah!” The oblivious, moronic child exuded innocence and youthful exuberance. “Oh, oh - you’re a chaakar, Cody!” He looked back at Rex, who was slowly lowering his fist in silent acceptance of his impending death. “Did I pronounce that right?”

Kix obviously started typing out his will on his datapad.

Cody’s face was dead blank. He surveyed the room, who all suddenly found reasons to be embarrassed. “I see we’ve been teaching the Commander some…military…knowledge…”

The duty of command was to accept responsibility. Captains were first on the field and last to retreat. They prioritized their men’s well-being over their own. Rex straightened, bravely facing his death. “It was my idea, sir. Thought it might be educational.”

“Educational,” Cody said, in much the same way Jango had once said ‘Surrender’. “I see.”

Finally, the kid seemed to pick up on some of the tension, before he pulled a face and ran over to Cody. “They aren’t in trouble, are they, Commander? I promise it was all my idea. I practically bullied them into it!”

That did not help. Cody turned a vicious eye over the room, who masterfully fought a wince. “The thirteen year old bullied you into sharing -” Confidential clone secrets. “ - moves.”

“He’s a very convincing thirteen year old, sir,” Kix said, straight faced. Everybody else nodded. This was a known fact.

“Convincing enough to teach him Mando’a?”

The Commander perked up. “Is that what that is? I thought it was just soldier pidgin. Who taught you it? Was it -”

“You shouldn’t be speaking that.” Cody’s voice was drawn tight and heavy, like a durasteel code keeping a ship anchored to bay. Everybody shot him judgemental looks for spilling a highly confidential clone secret, but he ignored them. He put a hand on the Commander’s back, steering him away. “Come on, Commander -”

But the kid just tilted his head up to look at Cody, and for just a second Rex wondered if he seemed like the tallest person in the galaxy. “But it’s the same language as those prayers you taught me, isn’t it? After Christophsis -”

“Never mind about those,” Cody said quickly, as the 501st men exchanged very pointed looks. “Here, why don’t you wait at the end of the hallway for me? I can show you the cool book I downloaded from the library after I’m done here.”

The kid’s eyes narrowed. “You are going to yell at them.” He paused a beat. “What’s the book about?”

“...megafauna reptiles?”

An honorless Jedi traitor to the end, the kid perked up. “Really? Awesome! Hurry up with the yelling, don’t forget to show me the reptiles!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Cody said, through gritted teeth. “Now run along. And don’t eavesdrop.”

“Aw, Cody…”

But after a few more gentle pushes from Cody the kid scampered off, and Cody was able to step inside. He pushed the door control pad with a bit more force than necessary, locking it. Everybody winced.

Cody slowly rounded on all of them. His face was completely blank. Cody had stopped looking mad at you years ago. He made up for the professionalism by exuding murderous intent in every other way physically possible.

Time to take one for the team. “In our defense,” Rex said quickly, holding out his hands in a peace-seeking maneuver, “the Jedi scum was blackmailing us -”

Cody held up a hand, and Rex clicked his mouth shut. He turned around and opened the door, peering around the door and looking down the hallway. Rex heard an offended voice before Cody withdrew and closed the door again. He turned around to face Rex again, as if three months with the Commander hadn’t thoroughly trained him to triple check for eavesdroppers every waking second.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Cody hissed. Everybody winced. “You do not fraternize with them. Not even with Lord Vader. Not even with the young lord. You do not speak with them unless it is necessary. I didn’t know I had to outline this simple rule to the Empire’s best.”

“Isn’t it more suspicious not to?” Rex demanded. Everyone else subtly backed up, leaving Rex out to sea. Real 501st solidarity here. “The point’s that we get their trust, right? How are we going to gain their trust if we avoid them at every turn?”

“There is avoiding and then there is karking teaching them Mando’a! Incorrectly!” Cody turned a ferocious glare on Kix, apparently mystically divining the source of the prank. “I cannot believe the Empire’s crack squadron is acting like Jedi-worshiping privates. Every man in here is an officer. I would expect better from all of you.”

Everybody looked at the floor or the walls in abject embarrassment but Rex, who had made the moral decision at seven to never let Cody embarrass him again. Everybody but Rex and Kix, who just looked at Cody over his datapad, flat and unimpressed.

“Aren’t you teaching him Mando’a? And…” Kix snapped his fingers in faux thought. “Renting him biology books?”

“That’s my job,” Cody snapped quickly - and maybe only Rex would have ever noticed it, but it was a little too quickly. “And it wasn’t biology, it’s a fictional story about a city of - the Emperor appointed me as his custodian, and unlike some of us I take that seriously. There’s no need for any of you to interact with him more than strictly necessary.”

Hardcase crossed his arms, huffing. “Oh, the Emperor said that, did he…”

Had the Emperor said that? Rex didn’t know. The Emperor only ever seemed to talk to Fox, who relayed everything he said to the other Marshal Commanders, who relayed any relevant orders to everybody else. Not that the Marshal Commanders ever did that. They practically had an exclusive line to the man. Fox had only gotten spacier over the years.

The entire military was unbelievably jealous. None of them knew the true identity of the Emperor, although suspicions flew thick and fast. They were expressly forbidden from actually trying to figure it out, or poking their noses where they didn’t belong, but Rex had his own ideas. Lord Vader spent a lot of time with the Supreme Chancellor.

He would have thought that the Emperor would radiate mystical wisdom and power, but Rex hasn't felt anything like that. Mostly he just felt a little slimy.

“Look, Cody,” Rex said. He stepped forward, clasping Cody on the shoulder. He huffed, just like always, but he relaxed just like always too. “It’s a long few years ahead of us. Nothing’s going to go perfectly. So long as the plan’s on track, I think we’re doing good. And, hey, doesn’t it count as following orders if we’re making sure he doesn’t die?”

Somehow, Rex had hit on the one thing that mollified Cody. “The young lord’s combat skills are woefully inadequate. I suppose giving him real lessons wouldn’t hurt.”

“A more effective Commander would drastically increase mission success,” Fives said, with a completely straight face. Kix rolled his eyes. “He’s good enough now. Think of how good he’ll be once he can fight like a Mandalorian, huh?”

“It would help keep him alive,” Cody said, rubbing a thumb over his lips. Rex, who had not intended to elicit the Cody Thinking Pose, began to grow concerned. “I could give him my CC training modules. That’ll keep him occupied and out of trouble. I won’t have to worry about where he is for nine hours of the day.”

Rex snorted. “CC training modules didn’t teach you how to win debates with a baby traitor.” Cody grimaced in concession of the point. “Goes to show that they reward our best soldier with the worst mission. Are you ready to throw yourself into a typhoon yet? Two hours with the kid and I want to sleep for a week.”

In a move so familiar it was as intrinsic to Cody as his scar, his face blanked out into impassive neutrality. “It’s a mission. I don’t like or dislike it.”

“That’s code for he hates it,” Hardcase yelled. “You’re too transparent, Commander!”

“The Emperor gave me this mission personally. It’s a great honor.” Only Rex could have ever noticed it, but Cody grimaced very faintly. “It is my privilege to…fish a teenager out of an air vent every day. And rewrite his reports. He keeps drawing mythosaurs on them…”

“I don’t know, Cody. Kids are impressionable. Just fix him.” It was easy to fix kids. Jango had done it all the time. “It’s not his fault the traitors got to him first. He has potential. Just teach him some real Mandalorian values. Make him earn that Mando’a. You’ll make him into a soldier yet, ori’vod, trust me.”

Cody grimaced again, far more obviously. “I’m not going to turn the kid into a clone just to make my life easier. It’s not my job to teach him values.”

But Rex just shrugged. “You’re gonna take care of him for the next few years, yeah? He’s going to pick them up anyway. Besides, it’s clone business - nobody else is ever going to find out. Jango taught us a bunch of stuff he didn’t mean to. Might as well make sure he picks up the right stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” Cody said slowly, “the right stuff…that wouldn’t hurt. Be good for him. Fight some of that Jedi brainwashing.”

Somehow Rex had the feeling this might backfire.

It wouldn’t. Cody had taught Rex everything he knew, and Rex turned out fine. Enough time around Cody and even Mon Mothma would start spouting Imperial rhetoric. The man was nothing but sheer dedication, down to his bones. If anybody had ‘the right stuff’, as Jango would say - the courage never to go back on a conviction, the dedication to see any task through, the responsibility never to let the people who depended on you down - then Cody did.

They would all die for the Empire, obviously, but Cody was one of the few men in charge of making it happen. He took the responsibility seriously - had been taking it seriously, ever since he had been informed at seven that it would be his job - and his faith was completely unshakable. It was a faith built on the grounds of a lifetime of work, unceasing effort, and the bodies of his brothers.

To Rex - who couldn’t help but stop and second-guess, no matter how hard he tried - it made Cody the most heroic person he’d ever met. Either that, or it made Cody somebody difficult to understand. Maybe both were true, and Rex wasn’t nearly as heroic as he liked to think.

The thought shamed Rex. The idea that he tolerated mediocrity, that he knew his weaknesses and let them fester instead of stamping them out, was a disgrace. He should be working as hard as Cody, showing the same unwavering faith as Cody.

He should. He hadn’t felt unwavering faith in the system since he learned the word defective, but he should. If he just tried hard enough, pretended hard enough, then it would become reality. All he had to do was pretend. And all he had to do was learn how to be good at pretending.

“You’re a good soldier, Rex,” Cody said, snapping Rex out of his reverie. He clapped Rex on the shoulder, oblivious to the guilt squirming in his stomach. “If you didn’t get so damn creative all the time you’d be one of the best.”

“I’m not one of the best already?” Rex faux-complained. Cody just grinned, and Rex knew full well that Cody thought he was the best damn soldier in the entire GAR. “Ice cold, Cody. You’re turning traitor on me now?”

“You should look in the mirror.” Cody turned to face the assembled men, lulled into a false sense of security by Rex’s smooth talking and Cody’s chronic inability to stay mad at Rex. His eyes landed on a suddenly sweating Kix. “Now. Does anybody here want to tell me about a chakaar?

Kix froze.

Busted.

********************************************************

Rex stared at his bucket.

It wasn’t quite as familiar to him as his own face, but it was close. It felt more like his, anyway. He could trace out every pattern on it with his eyes closed: the Jaig eyes, the hash marks, the bold sweeps of blue. His thumb ran over every line in a familiar pattern: starting at the top left, marking out every hash mark, before curling downwards and tracing the borders of his visor. It was like walking a well-worn path, an unconscious movement that settled Rex down and helped him think. Or distract him from thinking.

Rex wasn’t sure if he wanted to think hard or not think at all. He had always been able to figure out every solution to any problem, the answer usually coming to him in flashes or split-second sureties, but he stopped and thought things over too. He turned them over and over again in his mind until they were a well-worn stone, smooth and glossy like the kid’s damn little river rock. But he couldn’t find a solution for this. Maybe it was one of Appo’s dumb brain games - an impossible question, meant only to infuriate the other men on watch with you. An unsolvable problem.

What was worse: not knowing the answer to the most important question of his life, or knowing the answer fully well - and knowing it was an answer he just couldn’t accept?

***

The atmosphere in the barracks was heavy and thick.

As usual, the 501st and 212th sides kept strictly to themselves. Somewhat less usually, the halls were quiet. There was nobody running around, racing to get to a sabacc game before it folded, and what few fragments of conversation caught in the halls between soldiers was quiet and subdued. The 501st side was a little more active, still bouncing with the sounds of clones talking and boisterous play fighting, but as Rex wound his way into the 212th barracks he began to feel like he was walking through a dead man’s ship.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe Rex was imagining blasters around every corner, hyped up on paranoia and dread, and it was making him see shadows. He couldn’t afford to let his mind slip like that. It happened to a few other clones, but it couldn’t happen to Rex. He wasn’t defective. He couldn’t really handle any more defects at this point.

When the 212th men normally caught him in their barracks without the Commander they gave him a certain unwelcome eye, but today they just pointed down the hall. Rex nodded in thanks, gave cursory concern over any injuries (“Oh, I’m fine, Captain, it’s [insert friend here] who was stupid enough to get himself toasted -”), and dragged himself towards the infirmary.

He stopped in front of the doors and let himself feel that familiar churn in his gut. Just as heavy as always, and just as useless as always too. It had grown even heavier over the past few years, more insistent. Less of a buzzing insect and more a bantha on his chest.

He sighed and buzzed the infirmary doors open. He could just continue avoiding this conversation, but Rex wasn’t a coward who hid his words under his tongue. Or, at least, he didn’t do it for four months instead of three. Because he wasn’t a coward. Right. Three months was fine. Not four, though.

The infirmary was half-full, still laden from the last mission. It had been a disaster - the kind of disaster that the 501st and 212th rarely had. Rex wasn’t stupid enough to think he was invulnerable, but some part of him always found the 501st exempt from failure. With Lord Vader on their side, they almost never failed.

Lord Vader wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy that they were forced to retreat from the planet and let another battalion come in to take over. He wasn’t happy that General Grievous had gotten away, again. He wasn’t happy that so many of his men were hurt and dead. He wasn’t happy that Obi-Wan was hurt. He was, actually, the opposite of happy about that.

He never handled Obi-Wan getting hurt in battle well. If Obi-Wan broke an arm throwing himself off a ledge for fun - to be fair, it was really fun - then he and Jinn tended to laugh it off, much to Cody’s consternation. But a broken arm in battle obviously meant something very different to him, and he freaked out every time. The 501st men bragged about it - our Sith Lord really cares about his apprentice, and he really cares about us, have you seen that move he can do with a lightsaber - but somehow Rex couldn’t brag as loudly as he used to.

“I’m failing him,” Lord Vader - Skywalker - would say. “Dammit, Rex. I can’t even do this one thing right.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Rex would say. “It’s still a thousand times better than anybody else can do. You can’t control the tides, General.”

And then Skywalker would look up at him, a moment of sincerity between genuine friends, and Rex would see something glimmering in his eyes. “Everyone at the Temple keeps acting like I can bring the rain. Anything less than perfect lets them all down. I can’t keep up with all of this pressure.” And he would look back down - at his drink, at the command table, at Obi-Wan, and avoid Rex’s eyes. “I’m our greatest general or I’m irresponsible. I’m our toughest warrior or my impulsiveness weakens me. I’m an adult or a kid. They can’t treat me like a kid and then hand me a battalion, Rex. They build me up as a hero and then call me a failure of a Jedi. I wish they would make up their damn minds. Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it.”

“The only person the Commander wants is his master,” Rex would say, every time. “That’s all he wants. Just you.”

“Yeah. Obi-Wan doesn’t have any expectations. He just…wants me. Just me.”

And that seemed to mean something to him more than Rex could understand.

Obi-Wan was in one of those beds - near the center, next to the medic station. Lord Vader - Skywalker, after too many times seeing him drunk as a skunk it just felt stupid to keep calling him Vader - hadn’t been happy about that either. But the Jedi Halls of Healing had been completely full after some disaster with the Star Corp, and Cody had been quick to volunteer the barrack’s medbay. His offer had clearly surprised the Jedi - none of whom had ever stepped foot inside a clone barracks, and who perhaps thought that they slept in the engine rooms - but the force of Cody’s personality won out yet again. Medic Che would be over soon enough to give Obi-Wan the attention he needed, but for the time being he would be just fine without mystical Jedi intervention. The stuff probably polluted the blood. Introduced…evil toxins or something.

That was stupid. That was really stupid. Why was Rex always desperately making up shit to hate the Jedi for? Rex had seen the Evil Force, or whatever it was called. He had felt it. He knew the difference between a concussion grenade and a paint bomb. The Force that the Jedi used, the kind that Medic Che used to heal Rex’s wounds and that Jinn seemed to exude with a smile…it was nothing alike.

Jinn, as a person, was evil. Not the Force. This was so fucking stupid.

Skywalker and Jinn weren’t here now, which was yet again attributable to Cody. He had quickly, politely, and inarguably kicked them out. It happened so rapidly that Skywalker hadn’t realized what happened until he was standing outside the barracks with firm assurances that they would call him if there was a change. Jinn, as usual, was a little quicker on the uptake, but he went along with it. If Rex caught him shooting thoughtful glances at Cody, then he was sure he imagined it.

Rex wound his way around the beds, offering smiles and clasped hands to the men he saw. Some of them were awake, in good enough spirits to wave and cheer at him. Many of them were asleep, or drifting in a medicated haze. Was that Sharptooth? Dammit.

Cody didn’t look up when Rex approached, eyes fixed on his datapad. He was sitting on one of the uncomfortable plasteel visitor’s chairs, the ones that killed your back if you stayed sitting for more than a few hours. Rex knew that Cody had been sitting there for more than a few hours. The sheets on Obi-Wan’s bed were slightly rumped, as if Cody had been leaning on them.

Just like Cody. He’d wait by your bedside for hours after an injury, but he’d take the opportunity to catch up on formwork. No idle hours for that man. You could tell how severe the injury was by how much of the formwork he was actually doing. When Crys almost lost his arm he just stayed sitting there, staring at the same page for hours on hours.

“How’s he doing?”

Cody didn’t take his eyes off his datapad. Rex fought the urge to pull up a chair, as if they were really just chatting over the bedside of a brother. That wasn’t the case, and if he pretended it was he’d lose all nerve. He couldn’t back out now. “Nothing bacta and bedrest can’t fix. No permanent damage.”

“Oh, bedrest,” Rex said, and he couldn’t keep the teasing note from his voice. “How are you going to enforce that one this time, ori’vod? Straps? Force cuffs?”

“I was thinking of threats,” Cody said dryly. “He does listen to me, you know. It’s you he doesn’t listen to.”

“Why would I tell him what to do? That’s your job.” Rex was the fun brother. Sometimes he wondered if Cody resented having to play the bad guy all the time, but he figured that Cody wouldn’t be happy if he couldn’t ground someone. “Pretty soon grounding isn’t going to work on him, you know. You’ll have to find something more inventive. Hostage negotiation?”

“Sure. You want to play the hostage?”

For some reason, Rex found himself faltering. The jokes suddenly didn’t seem that funny anymore.

He looked down at Obi-Wan, sleeping peacefully with a single breathing mask strapped to his face. His arms and torso were wrapped in bandages, but it wasn’t such a new look on Obi-Wan. The only strangeness was how still he was. Obi-Wan had fallen asleep against Rex’s shoulder plenty of times in the field, or conked out on the barrack's mess hall tables after one too many late night sabacc sessions, and he always jerked or twitched. Fighting his invisible enemies.

But he just lay still now, as if there were no enemies around. As if he was safe.

“Brother, I…want to talk with you.” Where did this hesitance come from? Rex wasn’t hesitant. He didn’t doubt himself. “I have to talk to you. It’s important.”

Cody grunted, setting his datapad aside on the bed. “Can’t it wait? I’d rather have meetings over my datacomm and caff.”

“It’s not a meeting,” Rex said. “This is between us. And - and no, it can’t wait. I’m tired of waiting.”

Cody looked up at him, and something in his eyes made Rex’s skin prickle. He felt something crawl down his spine, and he didn’t know why.

It was just Cody. Just Kote. A dash and a hug, a desperate fight to give Rex the chance that he deserved. There was nothing cold about him, nothing removed and distant. There wasn’t. It was impossible.

“You don’t want to have this conversation.” His voice was something more than tired - maybe the kind of tired that belonged at the sickbed of a man’s ward. “And I don’t want to have it with you.”

Rex fought to fan the flames of indignation in his gut. It was difficult. Every inch of him wanted to drop it and walk away. Why? That wasn’t like him. “Don’t tell me what I want. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Rex heaving a deep breath, fighting for the focus and calm that always came so easily to him. It was more difficult in front of Cody, who had always been calm enough for the both of them. “Cody, you know - this. It isn’t…I just don’t think it’s…”

“Out with it, Rex.”

Fuck it. “We can’t hand him over to the Empire.”

Silence stretched. It seemed to suffocate even the beeps and blares of the medical machines, drowning out the snorts and sniffles of sleeping clones. It seemed to suffocate Cody - his face twisting, bared teeth flashing behind a curled lip, a thin flash of anger fluttering behind a heavy curtain. Rex had expected anger, expected a fight, but something about this felt different. He had never seen it in Cody before. He thought that he’d seen all of Cody.

Save, maybe, for those special little fragments only Obi-Wan ever saw. Obi-Wan, who was not a true soldier. Who did not need to be toughened up, and who was allowed to sit together with Cody as they poured over interesting books together. That was a side of Cody that Rex had never been allowed to see, and some strange part of Rex’s gut burned with the theft. With what Cody was about to steal.

Finally, after a long second chewing over his words, Cody said, “I don’t want to hear that from you again, Captain.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it!” Rex exclaimed. He had to make Cody understand. He was a rational clone, one of the smartest. There was no way he hadn’t seen it. “Obi-Wan loves Skywalker, but he’s terrified of Vader. Life under the Empire is the worst possible thing for him. How can you sit here and act like giving him over to people like Dooku or Ventress is safe?” Hell, Rex trusted Obi-Wan with Ventress more than Skywalker on a really bad day. At least she could control herself.

“Life under the Empire will keep him safe,” Cody said. The words came loosely and easily, worn smooth as Obi-Wan’s little river stone. “He’ll be better off. Lord Vader wouldn’t make him fight a war. He’d be a normal kid. He’d live in peace.”

“The Empire won’t bring peace, Codes!” Rex exclaimed, throwing out a hand. “Enforced peace is no kind of peace at all, and you know it! Maybe we’ll be better off, maybe we’ll have less people to fight - but that’s just because we’ll win every fight. The fights won’t stop.”

“If we’ll be better off,” Cody said, “what’s the problem?”

And what was the problem?

He was right. Rex didn’t really give a shit about the rest of the galaxy. How could he give a shit about people who had never once cared about him, who had never looked out for him? They owed him a blood debt of thousands of brothers, and maybe they deserved to pay their dues. After everything Rex and his brothers had sacrificed for them, after every bill they passed to throw more of them into the meat grinder, Rex owed the Republic nothing. And if he was the kind of clone who desired vengeance - like so many of his brothers did, and more every day - then the Empire would be exactly what they needed.

Maybe Rex was being stupid. He and his brothers would get theirs. The Emperor was fair, he’d bring military law and order to an uncivilized galaxy. A neater galaxy, with less braying senators and pointless conflict, was the best possible thing. Cody and his brothers - but Obi-Wan was his brother, he had to be included in that - Obi-Wan would be better off - no he wouldn’t -

“Obi-Wan won’t be better off,” Rex repeated. He had to keep hold of that. Why did his thoughts keep wandering? Why couldn’t he stay focused on what was important? “The Emperor - the Emperor wouldn’t let him go to waste, Cody. He has too much potential for that. As an apprentice, or as - as leverage for Skywalker. You know that this isn’t what’s best for him.”

Cody stood up, expression hard and blank. The back of Rex’s neck pricked, a voice in his head screaming at him that he was going way too far, he just needed to shut up. But that voice had been keeping him silent for months, and he couldn’t shut up anymore.

He stood his ground as Cody stood in front of him, desperately trying to keep anger on his face. He was afraid, uncertain, but he couldn’t show Cody that. He never tolerated weakness or half-heartedness, any more than Jango did.

“Are you questioning your Orders?”

Rex’s heart spiked in fear. “Of course not, I’m just saying -”

“Are you questioning the Emperor?”

“I wouldn’t do that, I just think -”

“Then are you questioning me?” Cody demanded, and Rex finally flinched. “Are you saying you know what’s better for my kid than I do? After everything I’ve done for you?”

It wasn’t just fear anymore. It was hurt. Rex backed up - only cowards retreat, Rex - and risked a glance backwards. He saw clones at the doorway, lingering at the back walls. When had they entered? Why were they watching, so solemn and silent?

“This has nothing to do with you and me,” Rex protested. “Don’t call me disloyal, Cody, I know the Empire is the best thing for us and the galaxy. I just don’t think it’s the best thing for -”

“I’ve done whatever I had to do to keep you alive. I’d do the same for any of our brothers. I don’t care how distasteful it is -” Wait, was he admitting it? “ - I have one priority. And I care more about Obi-Wan’s security than his happiness. If you don’t do the same, then you’re not with the program. We can’t afford to have soldiers not with the program, Rex.”

Rex didn’t want to be ‘not with the program’. Rex was with the program. He was there all away. He’d never, ever lose that. Lose being a soldier, lose being a Mandalorian - he couldn’t. Rex would never -

He opened his mouth to apologize, to swear to drop it. To get with the program, to fall back in line. He couldn’t afford not to. He was defective, he was already on thin ice. If he stood out any more then the trainers would decommission him -

And Rex realized, with a cold and creeping shock like a bucket of water dumped over his head, that this wasn’t him.

It wasn’t. He wasn’t scared of sticking out anymore. He wasn’t on fucking Kamino, looking over his shoulder every two seconds, afraid for his life. He wasn’t scared of his brother. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. If Rex thought he was obeying an incorrect order, he brought it up later. If his brother talked shit, he talked back. And to Cody - to Cody, he always said exactly what he thought. If he thought Cody was being an asshole, he said so. The guy only had three or four other people who stood up to him, he needed all of the help he could get.

It made him angry. These orders, this mission - they were stealing something from him. They stifled his courage, took away his honesty. They were turning him into something he wasn’t, and Rex found that it made his gut boil with anger. Rex didn’t have anything but himself. He couldn’t afford to lose that too. If he lost himself - if he lost Cody to whatever it was that sucked them dry - then he wouldn’t have anything. He’d be alone.

So Rex did something stupid, and pushed Cody away. He heard a chorus of hisses behind him. Cody stumbled backwards, just a step, but pure outrage flashed across his face.

“You’re not listening to me, helmet head. Are you even hearing yourself? This isn’t going to keep him alive. The Empire doesn’t care about him any more than it cares about us. The system never gives a shit about us. Don’t go yelling at me as if I’m not trying to look out for you too.”

“We are the system. We’re the military. We’re the Empire’s power.” Cody’s face grew colder and colder, the outrage smothered under sheets of ice. “I’m not giving up every ounce of power I have for my own comfort. That power is why you’re alive.”

“That was Jango’s power,” Rex said, “not yours.”

Cody ignored him. As if the difference wasn’t important. Why did he think it wasn’t important? “Without that power, I can’t keep any of you alive. I put the clan above myself. Like a Mandalorian. And if you dropped out of your righteousness hyperlane, you’d do the same.”

Rex couldn’t believe this. What was he saying? Who was the man in front of him? He wasn’t saying anything Cody wouldn’t. Maybe that was the worst thing - that it was Cody through and through, that he cared about everything Cody cared about. But there was something wrong in his eyes, something cold and shallow, that gave the familiar words a hollow and false tint. Eyes that were as shallow as a tidepool and as deep as an underwater trench - eyes that looked at him and didn’t see Rex at all.

“You aren’t even denying it,” Rex cried, incredulous. “You know I’m telling the truth. You know what we’re building isn’t - isn’t right. You just don’t care. So long as you’re on top, so long as you can pretend that you’ll somehow make everything okay - you just don’t care!”

“I’m a good soldier. I obey orders.” Cody’s eyes flashed, shallow and thin. “I protect my family. I protect my brothers. That’s what’s right. And if you don’t fall in line, our relationship won’t protect you.”

Rex, impulsive as always, saw red. He was distantly aware of their audience - the 212th clones who had slowly filtered into the room watching with wide eyes, the wounded soldiers straining to lift themselves to see - but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Cody, and of Kote. “A power hungry asshole like you has no right to call himself anyone’s parent!”

Finally, finally, Cody’s face twisted in rage. “Shut up, Rex!”

But if Rex shut up now then he’d never speak again, and he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. “A parent who walks away from his kid isn’t a parent at all!” Rex yelled. “But what would either of us know about parents, huh?”

Cody punched him.

Rex stumbled, only his training keeping him on his feet. Just barely - Cody packed a wallop, and he felt his nose immediately bust open and start bleeding. Cody hadn’t punched him since they were teenagers. He hadn’t punched him in front of an audience since they were children. Cody had always been better than that.

But Rex knew Cody better than anybody alive, and that was how he knew. Cody was scared. He was terrified of walking away. The thought petrified him. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t know if he could. The only thing he could do was hit Rex, but that wouldn’t stop him from being right.

All the power in the galaxy wouldn’t stop what Cody had to do. He knew exactly how it would feel - what it would be like for Obi-Wan to watch him walk away, to know that he hadn’t been good enough to make him stay. No matter how hard Obi-Wan fought to earn whatever scraps of love Cody knew how to give out, it wouldn’t be enough.

Maybe it was never enough. Maybe that was just another lie told to children - the idea that a parent would always do what was best for you, instead of what was best for themselves. That you could make them love you if you just did everything right.

Cody had finally done it. He had done everything right. He was a crisp resolution holo, hitting every box and performing every role perfectly. He had been the perfect guardian, the perfect commander. The perfect soldier and the perfect traitor. Cody had achieved perfection his entire life, and he couldn’t lose who he was any more than Rex could.

Rex was not perfect. He couldn’t be even if he tried. What fantastic freedom. The only kind of freedom he had ever had - and such a basic, small freedom that Cody wasn’t even afforded. That he couldn’t give himself, because he had to protect Rex.

The figure on the bed jerked back, as if he was stumbling away, and his eyes flew open. A hand reached up to his nose, in a perfect mirror of Rex’s own pose. The figure groaned, only gaining awareness after his body moved.

Cody changed in a microsecond. He turned around, expression and posture and spirit transforming completely into the Cody he needed to be, and Rex watched with dull shock as he dropped back down into the chair pulled up next to Obi-Wan’s bedside. He reached out and took the kid’s hand, squeezing lightly.

“Cody…?” Obi-Wan turned his head, blinking blearily. “ ‘zat you?”

“Sure is,” Cody said. He was smiling gently. His voice was soft, his body easy and loose as if he had been napping for the last hour instead of punching Rex. “You took a nasty hit, Commander. How are you feeling?”

“Crappy.” Obi-Wan made a face, and Cody smiled properly. “Why’s my nose…” He pushed himself up a little, ignoring Cody’s sound of disagreement, and caught sight of Rex. Rex watched his eyes follow backwards, to the clones lingering on the fall wall. “Rex? Guys? What’re you…?”

No matter the argument, no matter the fight. No matter the situation. You did not compromise opsec. Mando’a was one thing, but this was another. “We wanted to see you,” Rex said, forcing a big grin. Obi-Wan grinned back, the arm propping him up shaking a little. “Don’t strain yourself, Commander. You don’t want another week of bedrest.”

“Wha’ happen’ to your nose…”

“Smashed his face on the bed railing,” Wooley piped up effortlessly. He peeled off from the wall, grinning just as brightly to Obi-Wan. The other clones came forward too, waving or making a show of visiting their friends in their beds. “Shoulda named him Clumsy.”

Obi-Wan frowned - but, as usual, the lie didn’t register. If he noticed something else - the thick tension in the air, the unhappiness, the fight ready to crack - he didn’t mention it. Obi-Wan learned from the best, and there was a lot he knew not to talk about. “Okay…”

“Come on, Commander, lie back down.” Cody gently pushed him down, his hand lingering on Obi-Wan’s chest as he huffed in teenage disgruntlement. Rex watched as the hand drifted up to run through his hair, straightening some of the knotted bedhead. “You’re just fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” Obi-Wan mumbled something, too quiet for Cody to hear. “Don’t worry about that now. That’s for later, when you feel better. I’ll say the remembrances with you tonight, okay?”

Rex couldn’t take this anymore. He just couldn’t take it. Sorry he wasn’t perfect.

He turned on his heel, stalking out the door. The other clones jumped out of his way, and Rex fought hard not to look at their faces. He didn’t want to see their judgment and scorn. Word would get out about this. They’d ostracize him. He didn’t care. The Clone Wars were drawing to a close, and sooner or later none of this would matter anymore.

For just a second, he thought he must have seen some sympathetic glances, but he tore his eyes away just as quickly. That was even worse.

Impulsive as ever, Rex couldn’t help but yell, “Take real good care of him, Codes!”

He didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He broke out of the room, fighting the urge to run from these claustrophobic barracks and this claustrophobic planet and this claustrophobic life, and he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Distantly, he heard a faint voice say, “What’s with him?”

If another voice responded, Rex couldn’t hear it. He stomped his way down the hallways until the sounds of clones faded far away, leaving Rex alone.

***********************************************************

“Rex! Rex, where are you? Are you on a different planet? You shouldn’t be on a different planet, because that’s really far away, and you can - uh, you can get really lost, Rex!”

Rex grinned widely, leaning forward on the table. It was ridiculously nice, made of finely cut stone carved into elegant and bold lines that complemented the cavernous dining room. Rex was fairly certain nobody ever stepped foot inside this dining room, which was why he had chosen it. There were about ten of them, and he tended to either eat with the staff or in the Queen’s small, personal room. He wondered if there used to be grand diplomatic dinners held inside this room - before, of course, there wasn’t much of anything.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not lost,” Rex said, not bothering to fight the smile. “Do you remember where I am, Leia?”

Leia resumed her chokehold on Ahoska’s neck, shaking her head. “You didn’t tell me!”

“I’ve told you,” Ahsoka said, with the infinite patience and calm wisdom of one of the Jedi Order’s most venerated masters, “five times.”

“No you didn’t!”

“I’m certain I did, Initiate.”

“Don’t argue with her, she’ll win.” Rex waved his hand in front of the holo, calling for Leia’s attention. She reluctantly gave it to him, cheeks puffing out as she tugged mercilessly on Ahsoka’s neck. The poor woman would have had an easier time handling the strain if she wasn’t holding Luke on her other hip, who was content sucking his thumb and watching Rex with wide eyes. “I’m on Naboo, sweetheart. Remember? Where Granny lives?”

Leia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, practiced at rooting out deceit and spycraft. “I don’t got a granny.”

“Yes you do. Remember your holocall with her?”

“Uh, I don’t know that,” Leia said frankly. Ahsoka sighed and opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Rex just minutely shook his head. “Luke wants you to come home. Right now.”

This again. Rex didn’t sigh, and he didn’t show his frustration on his face, but Ahsoka’s pinched brow did it for him. Luke gummed his thumb harder, sensing the irritation. “I’m still helping your Uncle Ben, remember? I’m helping Uncle Ben and Mama’s planet. It’s really important, so I can’t come home right now. But I will be back in one week. Do you remember how many days a week is, Luke?”

Luke stared at him, eyes wide.

Leia frowned. “Luke’s wrong. It’s six.” Luke looked at Leia. She looked at him back. “Six. No. Six.” Luke squinted at her. “Wrong! Wrong!”

Ahsoka made a valiant attempt into the breach, displaying a true warrior’s courage. Her sacrifice would be remembered forever. “Why don’t we let Luke answer for himself, sweetie?”

“He don’t gotta say if he’s wrong.”

“It’s five days,” Rex said patiently. Luke looked smugly at Leia, who silently threatened toddler death. “Let’s all count it with me, okay? Hold out your hand. All your fingers in, just like this.” Rex held out his hands, fingers tucked into his palm in a fist. Luke eagerly copied him, and Leia belatedly followed Luke’s movement exactly. “Now put out one finger. That’s one day. So that’s one bedtime. Then another finger. That’s two days, two bedtimes. Three fingers…” Rex walked through the entire thing with them, watching as they furiously applied every ounce of understanding they had towards the task. “...that’s five fingers. Five bedtimes. When you wake up after your fifth bedtime, I’ll be there. Okay?”

Luke started crying.

The idea was too much for him. Five bedtimes, five infinite stretches of time and life and energy in his small galaxy - the thought of it was insurmountable without Rex. Of course, Leia instantly started sniffling too, and Ahsoka was left juggling two panicked toddlers working themselves up into a frenzy. Rex was left with the completely novel and extremely welcome feeling that this was not his problem, and he was liberated from the responsibility of calming them down.

Rex still remembered the look on Padme’s face when she realized that she couldn’t get them to stop crying - and, when she passed them to Rex, that he could quiet them in minutes. When they were infants she had practically cried with relief, but lately it seemed to make her feel helpless. Rex knew that he couldn’t understand.

Finally, after Ahsoka managed to calm them down and hand them off to a passing enthusiastic Bail, she relaxed. Rex watched with interest as she sighed, brushing a hand over the tops of her montrals and straightening her rumpled cloak.

“How do you do this?” The Sith-killer was frazzled beyond all belief, and Rex couldn’t help but grin. “They are endless. Luke doesn’t even talk! Isn’t he supposed to talk? Should you be taking him to some kind of doctor?”

Rex just shrugged. “He’ll talk when he’s sick of Leia saying everything for him. It’ll happen. We know he’s capable.” Ahsoka groaned, and Rex fought a laugh. “You pick your battles with those two. I promise they aren’t normally this bad. This is the longest they’ve gone without me since they were two weeks old. They’ll get used to it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ahsoka said wryly, and Rex shrugged. A curly strand of blond hair flopped down over his eyes, and he blew it away with a puff of air. “And I thought Anakin had been a handful. That was nothing. Luke isn’t dissecting ship engines, he’s getting lost in them.”

Rex instinctively flinched at the name, as if Padme was around the corner with impressionable toddlers, and Ahsoka quickly sobered. A bit too quickly, Rex asked, “How’s Ben doing?”

That sobered Ahsoka too. Rex knew that she was some kind of impassable mystery to those around her, wise and tall and carnivorous, but Rex knew Ahsoka in a strange and sideways way that nobody else did. She always looked the same when they talked about Ben. They rarely did, even when he was in the next room.

“As well as can be expected.” That was fair. How would he be doing, fantastic and chipper? “Padme and the Duke of Mandalore have been in extensive talks regarding the new citizenship requirements for the diaspora, and they’re considering -”

“Not what I asked.”

“He’s a very private boy,” Ahsoka said testily.

“And a very obvious one.”

“I haven’t asked.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe you should mind your own business.”

“I have a million brothers and two toddlers, Tano. Don’t play this game with me.”

“Out of every sentient on this base, Rex, do you think he’ll want to talk to me?” Ahsoka abruptly sagged with exhaustion, but that was more of a return to her natural state. What others often mistook for her wise and distant eye was really sleep deprivation. “I’m the worst person in the sector to talk about this.”

“You’re the only person in the sector who could possibly understand,” Rex said flatly, and Ahsoka thinned her lips. “Your guilt is very pious, Ahsoka, but it’s not useful to the kids in front of you. Luke and Leia would be more comfortable with you if you ever played with them.” Ahsoka winced minutely. “Ben would talk to you if you acknowledged he existed.” Ahsoka winced harder. “He thinks you hate him.”

“Of course I don’t,” Ahsoka said, somewhat wearily. She knew, then. Was not doing anything about it. Damn Jedi. “I just…can’t imagine that I’m somebody he wants in his life. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I’m afraid your usual friend making strategies aren’t going to work here.” Rex stared hard at her, ignoring her scowl. “I guess you could make friends with him the way you made friends with me -”

“I’m not apologizing for that.”

“The scar makes me look like I got half-decapitated!”

“I’m sorry you had such a rough day,” Ahsoka said, straight faced. “I know that day must have been very hard for you. I wouldn’t understand. I, myself, was having a wonderful time. Next time the Republic falls I will endeavor to be more considerate of your feelings.”

“Get over yourself,” Rex said shortly, ignoring Ahsoka’s noise of affront. As the second most venerated Master in the Order, more or less, people generally didn’t tell her to get over herself. Rex had lost all respect for her years ago - what was she going to do, try and decapitate him again? “I don’t care if he hates you.” Truth be told, he probably did. Ben was like every other ex-padawan running around and hated almost everyone. It seemed to get them out of bed in the morning. “He doesn’t need the venerated master. He doesn’t need the perfect, selfless mom. He just needs you there. And you need to move on and stop punishing yourself, or you’ll just keep fucking up. Got it?”

Ahsoka smiled wanly, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, but her lekku twitched mutely in agreement anyway. “Where’d you learn all of this wisdom, Captain?”

“Luke told me,” Rex drawled. “Rex signing off, Master Tano.”

“Ahsoka signing off, Captain Rex.”

When the holo finally winked out Rex felt all fight leave his body. He exhaled heavily, dropping his forehead down on his forearms and groaning.

He missed the kids. He had no idea he would miss them so badly. He started missing them from the second he left atmo, and every second he spent here he missed them worse. Seeing Ahsoka deal with their temper tantrums helped, but for some insane reason he even wanted to deal with the temper tantrums. Nobody had ever told him it would feel like he was missing two left arms.

Why were people constantly telling him to take a vacation? This was awful. Clones didn’t need to take vacations. Frustration, exhaustion, resentment - those were natborn weaknesses. Rex could run off the fumes of a bodyguard mission, and for the past three years he had. A clone thought about nothing but their mission - everything they did was for the mission - but when your mission grew taller every day then something far stranger and more powerful was added to the mix.

Were they stopping Leia from steamrolling Luke? Had Artoo tried to kidnap Luke again yet? Artoo was Rex’s loyal subordinate on his bodyguard mission, but it had the worrying habit of using Luke as an easily manipulated opposable thumb. Glory seeking droid. Had anybody called Threepio in to make sure that his counterpart wasn’t giving Leia a taser, or had nobody even noticed?

Rex stood up, cracking his neck and groaning. Older and older. Part of the clone’s alliance agreements with Padme was that the natborns would find a gene therapy fix to the advanced aging as quickly as possible, but they knew it would take a while. It wasn’t so bad being older, but he’d rather keep the knees necessary to run after the kids.

He exited the dining room, clipping his comm back onto his arm and slipping into the silent hallways. It was early in the morning, and he could almost smell the dawning sunlight filtering in through the high windows. If you went underground you could see a rich tapestry of opaque stained glass windows lining the tunnels, but if you took an airlift to the highest floors of the palace then you could walk through hallway after hallway of waterfalls and rivers fragmented into cloudy mosaics as the sun streamed in.

He wound his way through the castle towards the staff wing of the palace - one of the first locations that he memorized - and forced himself not to avoid the busier areas. He kept his back straight and eyes forward as he walked through the concourses crawling with roving gangs of 501st. He pretended not to see their sneers, ignored the calls, and reluctantly nodded back at the ex-212th who nodded at him. He finally escaped into the staff wing and made a straight line for the kitchens, carefully avoiding the girls holding armfuls of bedding or the steady streams of cleaning droids.

This early, a solid two hours before they were due to set out breakfast, the kitchen wasn’t overwhelmingly crowded. There were only about five girls - two of them chopping fruit, one of them taking bread out of the oven, a very young girl rolling napkins, and a much older girl elbows deep in kneading bread. They had all hung up their outer palace staff robes on pegs near the wall, and were all wearing the much shorter and more maneuverable gray dress underneath. The little girl had prettied hers up a bit, with a ribbon tied around the middle in a big bow and sparkly hair clips holding back her dark curls. The teenager taking bread out of the oven had five ear piercings on each ear, all studded with a different color gemstone. Rex did not want to know the Naboo language of gemstones.

They all noticed him come in, eyes darting to his face and taking a few seconds to check his hair and recognize him. They all glanced at the young woman kneading the bread, who looked up and brushed the flour off her hands, before going back to their work. Much more slowly, with ears pricked for gossip.

“If you’re here for the Commander’s food, then you can just go tell him that it’ll be ready at 800 hours and not a second before.” She dusted her hands on her apron, letting specks of flour dance in the soft sunlight. “And if he has a problem with that then can come down here himself to talk about it with me. I have too many kids to feed to worry about an adult’s stomach.”

“Nemone, I told you that I don’t work for him.”

“Hm,” Nemone said.

Nemone was nineteen, eldest daughter of one of Naboo’s fifteen royal houses, heir to a large plasma fortune, and the cook. She was a pretty girl, undoubtedly taking after her trophy wife mother, with a heart shaped face and a snub nose that the Naboo favored. It was difficult to discern her wealth now, with her straight brown hair wrapped in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and her fair skin turned unnaturally pale. At some point she had begun working out to ease frustration about her life, and her rolled sleeves belied unusual muscle that she used to pound bread into oblivion.

Two weeks ago, she had only been the assistant to the actual palace cook. Rex didn’t know what had happened to the palace cook, but she was the only one here now. If she was overwhelmed with the responsibility, then only the bread ever knew.

Rex held up his hands in a plea for innocence. “That’s not why I’m here, don’t worry. I actually just got off the comm with my kids.” He had learned three years ago that most human cultures found a sentient holding two babies very nonthreatening. Wookies and Mandalorians knew that a sentient holding a child was the most dangerous sentient in the room, and that they raised the deadliness of everybody around them by a factor of five. But the Naboo weren’t Wookies, thankfully. “They’re only three, they miss me something awful. Do you want to see a holo? I have one in my jacket, actually -”

“What’s a clone doing with a kid?” Nemone asked, cutting him off in pure suspicion. Rude.

The teenage girl with the piercings behind her placed the bread on a cooling rack. “Did he steal ‘em?”

“Their mother lent them to me. I’m just a nanny.” Everybody squinted at him in rapidly developing suspicion. The girls cutting fruit suddenly became girls holding knives. “Really? I could have sworn Lady Amidala mentioned that I was in charge of her kids -”

“Queen Amidala’s kids?” Nemone demanded, dropping the dough on the counter with a heavy thump. “The Prince and Princess? Where’s the holo?”

Within seconds, Rex was swarmed by girls demanding baby pictures. He did not think it was a good time to mention that the kid’s immediate family called them Prince and Princess as a joke, and that they had no clue Naboo called them that unironically. He wasn’t sure Leia’s reputation could take the holo of her trying to bury her brother in sand.

Rex’s holo was, unfortunately, somewhat skimpy due to the family’s status as terrorists, so he eventually fumbled it off to the cooing girls and separated from the crowd a little. He made significant eyes at Nemone, who was angling the holo down so the smallest girl could poke at it, and watched her scowl as she reluctantly peeled away from the group to whisper with him.

“Fine,” Nemone admitted grudgingly, grabbing a stray berry off the cutting tray and popping it in her mouth. “What do you want.”

Everything was a diplomatic negotiation in this palace. “I just wanted to know what you’ve heard,” Rex said smoothly. “You know the soldiers don’t say much to me.”

Nemone folded her arms, staring him down. She was tall for a woman, especially a Naboo one, and almost met Rex’s eyes. “You know more than I do. Did the Jedi really try to assassinate the Commander?”

“That’s none of your business,” Rex said flatly.

“Did the Jedi lose?” Nemone’s voice strengthened, doubled down. Two steps away from pushing, regardless of him pushing back. “Is he dead? Is that why nobody’s seen him?”

“That’s a family matter, and classified.” Rex’s curt tone brought enough soldiers to mind that Nemone withdrew, pressing her lips together. He tried hard to soften his voice. “The Jedi is fine. He just had to go home. Kylantha went with him - call her if you want to confirm it.” Along with, thankfully, Thirty. The palace was quieter, at least. “Go ahead and spread that one around. So a rumor that the Jedi’s dead has been going around? What else?”

Nemone didn’t look any happier, but something in her did relax. Rex didn’t blame her - learning that another Jedi had been slaughtered by the 501st in their own palace, when the legion was supposed to be surrendering, would be catastrophic. “They said that they’re going to send another Jedi to take the place of the old one. He’s going to do negotiations now so the 501st will leave. The clone with the dietary needs came to prepare stuff for him, right?”

Not quite right, but close enough. Rex would stick around as long as Vos did his thing, and Echo would stay afterwards. If Rex had to spend any more time around the 501st he might start screaming - and the kids wouldn’t stop. “Anything outside the castle?”

“We don’t have any contact from outside the castle.”

“Ma’am.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nemone said loftily. Rex angled an eyebrow at her. Nemone glanced back at the holos, then sighed. “The longer the comm silence goes on the more stressed out Theed is getting. Everyone’s ready to start protesting. It’s going to start any day now. Whatever these negotiations are, Rex, they better happen soon. If the Naboo don’t hear from the queen soon, they’re going to think she’s dead.”

And Cody, of course, hadn’t let Blanche send a message to any of her people. The palace was under almost complete blackout. Apparently Ben had been the first natborn allowed inside in a while. But that was nothing new.

“We’re taking care of it,” Rex said gruffly. Nemone didn’t look impressed. “Kylantha is taking care of it right now. She can send a message from the Jedi-Rebel Alliance base.” Nemone’s less than impressed look suggested that, perhaps, Blanche could be dead in a Coruscant ditch and Rex was probably lying to her. “The other palace staff are much more polite, you know.”

“It’s the 501st’s palace.” Nemone grabbed another fruit and deftly slipped a knife into her hands. With a resounding thunk she chopped through the rind, splitting open the fruit and exposing the mealy flesh inside. “But this is my kitchen. Now unless you need anything else, Mr. Rex…?”

“Uh.” Rex fought a hard sweat. “Actually, have you seen Echo - the clone with the -”

“Yes, he’s always in here at 0600 sharp for his medication. He said he had a meeting with the Commander.” Nemone grimaced. “Better you two than me. Wola, come give Mr. Rex here his holo back.”

That was a dismissal if Rex had ever heard one. The youngest girl - Rex would vaguely aim at ten standard in natborn years - dashed over and presented the holo to Rex with both hands, who gingerly received it. “The Prince and Princess are so cute, Mr. Nanny! They look like my baby brother! His name’s Myka, he’s two…or three now? He has a big fat face too.”

“Luke’s face is the fattest,” Rex solemnly agreed, taking the holo back. “Thank you very much, Wola. I’ll tell them special that you liked them. Maybe they can play with your brother one day.”

Wola perked up, beaming. Behind her, Nemone looked a little sad. “Myka playing with the Prince and Princess - he’d rocket, Mr. Nanny! Daddy would call that good business! Oh, but I think that’s stupid. Myka just needs friends, he’s bad at talking. Or he was. I dunno.” She paused a beat, looking around the kitchen and contemplating a great decision, before bursting out, “Where’s their daddy? Did the Empire kill him with everybody else’s daddies?”

The teenager whirled around, saving Rex from the cold wash of sadness crashing over him. “Wola! That is exceptionally rude -”

“It was just a question!”

“Well, it was a rude question -”

One of the girls chopping fruit butted in, seemingly just for a word in edgewise. “How’d you like it if your daddy was dead and someone went, oh, where’s your daddy -”

“It was just a question -”

“It’s alright,” Rex said, silencing the girls. He looked back down at Wola, who now seemed somewhat abashed. “There’s no father. They have Queen Amidala and me. And all their aunts and uncles, like the Jedi who came here. He’s their uncle.”

“Wait,” the teenager said, “the Jedi was Naboo? Yeah, rights -”

“Every human has a bio dad,” one of the fruit girls said skeptically. “ ‘cept clones, I guess.”

“They could be clones,” the other girl said to her.

“They’re evil?”

“Nobody said that -”

“Life lesson, girls.” Nemone walked into the group, taking a spot next to Rex as every girl stiffened in attention. It really was her kitchen. “Every human has a sperm gene donor.” (“Did you just say sperm -”). “But not every human has a dad. Okay?” All the girls nodded fastidiously, soaking up the ancient and worldly wisdom. “Good. Now, why are none of you working?”

The girls dissipated like scattershots, and Rex was left standing along with Nemone. She tolerated his presence for just one more second, turning to him with a keen eye. And a slightly gossip hungry one, but that was to be expected.

“The Commander kind of has deadbeat dad vibes.”

Rex opened his mouth, then closed it. He frantically thought up reasons why she was wrong - there were many - and then thought up reasons why she was right - which were numerous. Finally, he said, “He says he’s married to his work.” Nemone snorted. She was also flexing her arms. “Right, so I’ll go. Nice to see you again.”

“Always good to see your face,” Nemone said flatly, which was not fair at all.

“I’ll tell my lady you said hello,” Rex said awkwardly.

“You call her that?”

***

He did call her that.

Rex had spent the first two weeks of the Empire in the brig. Specifically, in Ahsoka’s cabin in her ship, locked securely from the outside as she slept in the co-pilot’s chair. He had no idea about anything that was happening. He definitely had no idea that, in the ship parked next to Ahsoka’s, a woman was currently struggling to cope with two premature newborns.

The first day of his captivity - a few short hours after his ill-fated assasination attempt - he hadn’t known much of anything. He only knew that it was time, that saving Obi-Wan wasn’t as important as murdering Ahsoka Tano, and that Ahsoka fucking Tano packed a mean right hook. He didn’t even know where they were. She had kept him unconscious for a while in a medically risky maneuver that probably seemed like the easiest solution at the time.

When he woke up the first time after Ahsoka beat him unconscious it was to the smell of smoke and the sound of vomiting. She dry heaved for almost an hour as Rex yelled curses at her. At least she hadn’t been alone. He hoped that the sound of his anti-Jedi, pro-Empire sentiments had distracted her from her burns.

Eventually Ahsoka had stumbled out of the bathroom, something insane and haunted in her eyes. Rex had shut up, leaning back on the chair as she advanced on him. She lit both sabers, walking closer to him until her leg was pressed up against his, and for the first time Rex recognized the source of the smell. It was Ahsoka who smelled of smoke - smoke, and antiseptic.

She crossed her lightsabers over his neck, holding them open like scissors ready to snap shut. Rex had encountered more near-death situations than he could count, but something about the heat and buzz of the lightsabers made him taste death in his throat, like ash and vomit.

“What do you know,” Ahsoka breathed, “about Order 66?”

Rex glared at her, his attempted fierce expression undercut by his frantic lean away away from the sabers. He didn’t get very far. “Fuck you, traitor. Long live the Empire.”

“Wrong answer.”

With no hesitation, Ahsoka pressed one of her lightsabers to his throat for a brief second. That brief second felt like eternity. Rex screamed, convinced his throat was melting, and his vision whited out for a second before two white beams of light swam back into view. Two white beams of light, and one implacable face with very crazy eyes.

“One more time,” Ahsoka said. “Before I have to find a replacement clone to interrogate.”

Jedi were insane. Jedi were so insane. Of course this woman had raised Vader. He was a vicious asshole too, like mother like -

Rex blinked hard, swimming through the haze of pain and fire. Vader was impeccable, Vader was perfect. Imagery of Skywalker taking one look at his wife and tripping over his feet sprang to mind. Vader was powerful. Imagery of Jinn grounding Skywalker bubbled up. What was happening to him?

The pain. It cleared his head. There was more than enough pain. He could think. Could he not think before?

“I - I know we won,” Rex panted. Bile rose up in his throat. He could smell his own singed hair. “The Deathless Emperor will reign with the powerful Darth Vader at his side. The Empire’s risen, and you power-hungry traitorous Jedi fell.”

“I killed Vader two hours ago.”

Rex froze.

The thought bumped up against his brain. It didn’t compute. It just didn’t work. Vader was all-powerful. Vader was dead. Everything would go perfectly, that’s what they said. Did they lie? Did they lie to him? Of course they lied to him, what was he thinking, he knew that -

Vader, dead? What about the Empire? What about the clones? What about -

“Wait,” Rex said, “isn’t Vader, like, your kid?” Ahsoka’s expression didn’t change. “Lady, that’s fucked up. You Jedi people - you’re fucking sick, you know.” He talked faster and faster, mind trying to eat itself. “That’s what they always told us, ever since we were kids. That none of you gave a shit about each other. Always putting the galaxy above your family. There’s something wrong with your brains -”

So quickly he could barely see it, Ahsoka dropped one lightsaber into another hand and jammed her fist into his gut.

It felt like a hit from a battering ram. Rex immediately spat blood onto his armor, and he wheezed as he watched thin rivulets of blood stream over the curve of his armor. Stinging blood dripped from his lips onto the armor, sending the stream flowing.

The lightsabers buzzed closer to his ear, Rylothian stinging flies nipping at his ears, and they sang a strange song to Rex.

This wasn’t him. This was something else. He wasn’t a sycophant who gave two shits about the Empire’s victory. He didn’t believe what he was saying. Why was he saying all of this? Ahsoka was going to fucking kill him over something he didn’t even believe. When he looked up at her, vision swimming, the only thing he could clearly see was her large eyes, blank and insane.

“What do you know about Order 66?”

He couldn’t tell her. He wasn’t a traitor. He’d die for the information in a second. At this rate he would.

But - hey, this was torture. Rex was getting totally tortured right now. Nobody could blame him, really. It was natural. And he could tell her the truth, just so someone out there in the damn galaxy would know: that he had lost Rex, and wanted him back so badly.

He’d lose being a Mandalorian. He’d lose his Captaincy, the GAR, his brothers. He’d lose it all. He’d sell it all just so he could have Rex back. Rex was more important than any of it.

“I’m - I’m willing to exchange some information -” The lightsabers inched closer. “We can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement -” The smell of burning hair began to hit Rex’s nose, making Ahsoka’s eyes flash. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear, just get those away from me!”

The sabers expanded again, leaving him room to gulp for air and shake. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the lightsabers. Their bright white gleam burned holes in his retinas - much like they were soon to burn holes in his neck. But Ahsoka’s eyes were cold, staring down at him with a blank face and nothing behind her eyes. Nothing but a wild, frantic sort of insanity.

“They told us you were bred to be brave and loyal,” Ahsoka said softly. “I see now that you’re neither.”

“Oh, as if you're having such a fun time, sunshine,” Rex snarled, blood dripping from his lips and the lightsaber twinged dangerously. “Okay, okay. If I - if I have to. You don’t have to twist my arm or - or decapitate me. I’ll tell you everything.” He stopped, working his jaw. “Right now.” He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I’ll tell you.”

“I can loosen your tongue.” She crossed the lightsabers in again, letting the plasma spit and hiss and lick his skin. She left only centimeters between his neck and the sabers, the heat scraping off the outer layer of the skin left unmarred. “If you need the incentive.”

Rex tried to tell her. He couldn’t.

He saw the realization in Ahsoka’s eyes, the minute he felt it in himself. He couldn’t. He literally, physically, couldn’t. It felt like his tongue was tied to the roof of his mouth. His apathy twisted into genuine desire, a desperation to tell her that something was controlling his body, but he couldn’t even tell her that. His breaths began to heave deeper and deeper, the lightsabers scraping skin until Ahsoka adjusted them away.

“There’s a Dark presence on your mind.” She said it just like that, with the capital ‘D’. “You’ve been touched by the Sith. The entire 501st likely has.”

And that was no conflict at all. Everything inside Rex agreed. There had never been any doubt - that the Sith had infected the 501st, and had infected Obi-Wan. That this wasn’t good for Obi-Wan. That Obi-Wan was in danger.

After a valiant struggle, Rex finally managed to force out between gritted teeth, “Not - not…Obi-Wan…” He heaved a deep breath, the words leaping to his tongue. “You have to save him. He’s in danger without Vader. The Emperor - he’ll kill him. Help him - he’s your grandpadawan. You cared about him, I saw it. Please, for Qui-Gon…”

Ahsoka stared down at him, expression cold. Eyes flat. Eyes insane.

“Obi-Wan died hours ago.”

Rex stared at her for what felt like a very long time.

Finally, he said, “Help me tell you everything.”

“If you insist,” Ahsoka said, before knocking him out.

She locked him in her cabin with restraints and a book. She bandaged the neck wound with a strange, faint edge of guiltiness, and she refused to hit him again no matter how many times Rex spewed shit at her in an effort to coax it out. He tried to attack her three or four days in, which did result in getting massively beat up again and was its strange form of massive relief - if you can’t escape, you aren’t obligated to try. They changed planets at one point - from where, to where, he didn’t know. He spent a lot of time throwing up too.

It was an odd purging. A relief of every toxin that had built up in his body from years and years of slow poison. Ahsoka did some shit to his brain and he could think clearer, tell her everything.

He did tell her everything, all of it. Things he had never told anybody. Jango’s cold eyes. What defects meant. What decommissioning meant.

She didn’t always say much, but that was alright. Rex was a little tired of staying silent.

After a week - or two, everything was difficult - Ahsoka unceremoniously unlocked the cabin door and tossed him a change of clothes. He covered his face with a billowing, thin fabric, and followed her outside of the ship onto dry land.

He hissed when the sun hit his eyes, and again when the second sun hit. The brightness was overwhelming, burning hot as the lightsabers, and Rex could barely look around his surroundings before Ahsoka was impatiently shoving him towards another ship. Sand whirled up, biting at the hems of Rex’s cloak, and he dragged his feet through the shifting tides.

The second ship was much nicer than Ahsoka’s. Nabooan, and it only took a few seconds to recognize it as a Nabooan Yacht. Senator Amidala’s, undoubtedly. Rex had wondered many times what happened to Vader’s wife now that he was gone, but he had never guessed that she was next to him.

Ahsoka knocked sharply on a door, with Rex hovering awkwardly at her side. An unfamiliar voice called out from within, and Ahsoka grabbed him sharply by the arm before tugging him inside.

There was a woman standing by a bedside. She had a kind face, but it seemed prematurely aged by a hard life. She nodded at Ahsoka, who didn’t nod back.

“How’s she doing?”

“The same, I’m afraid.” The woman looked downwards, and Rex saw with a shock that there was a person underneath the bedsheets and thick covers. It was Amidala, barely visible save for a heavy curtain of brown hair. That explained the baby. “How about it, Padme? Luke’s right here. Do you want to hold him?”

Padme didn’t respond or move. She may as well be dead. The woman turned back to Ahsoka, tilting an eyebrow - you see?

“Leia’s inside the house with Owen, Padme.” Ahsoka’s voice didn’t gentle or attempt to sound kind. Rex wondered if she had it in her anymore. “Should I bring her in here?”

Padme didn’t say anything.

The woman turned to Rex, shifting the baby in her arms - holy shit, Vader baby - and extended a hand to Rex, who dumbly stared at it. “Beru Whitesun. Where did you come from, stranger? Ms. Ahsoka didn’t mention a friend.”

“He’s my prisoner,” Ahsoka said blandly. Beru withdrew her hand. “I’m trying to find a decent use for him.”

“There’s always use for a strong young man around here,” Beru said bracingly, bouncing the baby slightly. It was very small. It didn’t do much. “Owen could use some help on the vaporators, that’s for sure.”

Rex stared at her blankly. He didn’t know how to deal with any of this. His brain couldn’t beat it into a shape he understood. His new clothing rubbed harsh and foreign on his skin, and the baby made strange snuffling noises. “...do you need anything killed, ma’am?”

Beru looked at Ahsoka. “My, you people are all the same.” Ahsoka shrugged ruefully, as if this was true. With no further prompting, Beru stepped forward and gently passed the baby into Rex’s hands. He dumbly took it, hands automatically moving to respond to hitherto undiscovered baby protocols. Why’d they program him with that? All he needed to know how to do was kill them. And that was just a ‘point and shoot’ type thing. “I see you’re a natural. You have any siblings, stranger?”

“A few.” Rex looked down at the baby. Were babies supposed to look like that, all red and wrinkly and withdrawn? It looked like it wanted to disappear inside of itself, crawl back to wherever it came from. “It’s not very cute.”

“No, but we love them anyway.” If Beru was shooting him any more significant looks, Rex couldn’t tell. He couldn’t stop looking at it. It was like an alien species he’d never seen before. Bug eyes, all rounded corners and yielding flesh and red skin. It didn’t even blink up at him - it just existed, eyes closed, as if it knew inside that it belonged in any other place but here. “I’ll give you some alone time, then. Come on, Ms. Ahsoka.”

“Beru, I don’t think that’s a -”

“They can’t get into any trouble in the next room. I have a few things I would like to discuss with you anyhow, ma’am.”

Somehow Rex had the sense that Ahsoka was about to get majorly chewed out for bringing home a random prisoner, but he didn’t care. He barely heard them leave. Every ounce of his attention was on the child in his arms. He could cradle it on his elbow, but it felt strange and ridiculous. His arm was all hard muscle, that couldn’t be comfortable.

He pressed it against his body anyway, gently resting one head on his torso. He walked over until he stood at the edge of the bed, near where Padme’s hair was poking out. He bent down a little, before giving up and sitting down completely. He angled his head until he could see where Padme’s elbow was firmly pressed over her eyes, her hand digging into the bed.

“You haven’t held them,” Rex said, “have you?”

Padme didn’t move. She didn’t say anything.

Rex settled in, crossing his legs and bouncing the baby a little. What was the name of this one, Luke? And a Leia? Two? That was unfortunate. “Want me to go drown ‘em?”

Padme’s head snapped up. She pushed herself up with one hand, and with the other she desperately swiped out to try and grab Luke out from Rex’s arms. He dodged her easily, keeping a wary eye on her face. With her hair bedraggled, curls limp with sweat, and her skin red and ruddy, he almost couldn’t recognize her. Her eyes were wild and foreign, and Rex recognized for the first time that she was lost. He could relate.

“Hey, relax,” Rex said. “I opted out of the killing children thing. I resigned, see? I’m a model prisoner and everything.”

Padme stared at him, for just a few moments, before gently falling back on the bed. As if the sheer act of sitting up was one of those insane acts of motherly adrenaline, and she had already lost the strength. She still didn’t say anything - believing, for the first time in her life, that there was nothing words could fix.

“So,” Rex said slowly, “if you don’t want me to drown ‘em, does that mean you want to give them away? Drop them off in a cantina? They can be raised by bartenders.”

Padme buried her head deeper into the pillow.

Or, most likely… “Let me guess. Owen and Beru, whoever these fucking people are, seem pretty nice, right? They can probably take ‘em. They can do all the work right now, at least. That leaves you perfectly free to melt into your bed, right?” Padme didn’t say anything. “That leaves you perfectly free to lie here and die. Doesn’t it, Padme?”

“Don’t,” Padme said. “Don’t…”

“Hurry it up,” Rex said. “Hurry up and die, and stop wasting our time. Or you can sit up in bed. That’s all you have to do. Just sit up.”

Padme moaned into the pillow, voice thick and hoarse. “I can’t. I tried. I can’t feed them…”

“I’m not asking you to feed them. I’m asking you to sit up.”

“I can’t do it,” Padme gasped, and it shouldn’t have been a shock that she was halfway to tears. But it was. “I can’t feed them. I can’t take care of them.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of them. I’m asking you to sit up.”

Rex waited. The baby made little snuffling baby sounds. Padme moaned loudly, and the baby made little noises back.

That seemed to do it. For whatever reason, that did it. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter, she pulled herself up. She dragged herself up until her back was resting against the headboard, her shoulders cutting into the curved wood.

She looked awful. She wasn’t wearing a shirt - likely from aborted attempts to nurse - and her hair was matted on one side and stringy on the other. Something in her face was a distant cousin of Ahsoka’s own - blank. Nothing. But the wind whistled through Ahsoka’s nothing, and Padme’s nothing weighed down her body like hundred kilogram stones.

Rex moved to the opposite side of the bed, sitting down next to her agonizingly slow as he took care not to jostle the kid. Padme’s eyes fixed on the baby, almost magnetized. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much the sight of it seemed to upset her.

Rex carefully dislodged the baby from his shoulder and - after an aborted attempt to put him on Padme’s chest, nope, that was her breasts - he passed him to Padme so she could put him on her chest. She put him between her breasts, one hand pressing his head to her sternum, and breathed very slowly.

For some reason, he was already planning it out like a military op. Tactical maneuvers necessary. A few minutes today. Get her used to the idea that she could. Psychological warfare. A few more minutes tomorrow with the other baby, maybe ten minutes. If they had a tomorrow. If the Empire hadn’t found them by then.

If there was a next week, then they could get Padme to nurse. Things would be easier after that - she would know that she was capable of taking care of them, no matter how hard it was. They would have to keep up the pace, take it slow while refusing to let her fall behind, but Rex had faith in her. In a month, two months, she’d be out of bed and doing what she had to do. She was down, but she wasn’t out. She had fallen back, but she hadn’t retreated.

And where would Rex be? Ahsoka hadn’t killed him yet, and if she was parading him around in front of civilians she probably wasn’t intending on it. They must really be shorthanded if they were putting a traitorous brainwashing victim - and wasn’t that weird to think about - to work. Would he be here, wherever Ahsoka was? He could try to escape, but there would be no point. If Ahsoka wasn’t going to kill him then here was just as good a place as any. There was nowhere in the galaxy that held something Rex wanted. He was a traitor, Obi-Wan was dead, and Cody would be dead the second Rex got his hands around his neck and squeezed.

They sat there, and Rex pretended not to notice as Padme began crying again. She began flagging again in just a few minutes, and Rex carefully took the child back as she fell over and buried herself back underneath the blankets.

“I can’t do it,” Padme repeated. “Let someone else do it. I can’t. I just can’t.” She hitched a shallow, hiccuping breath. “He said that he’d be here…”

The baby made snuffling sounds, almost squeaks. It wasn’t like a little human at all. Who said children were little humans? It was some…weird species. Maybe they lived underground, burrowing through dirt and smelling their way through life with closed eyes.

Padme couldn’t imagine it any more than he could. She couldn’t imagine those eyes opening, that mouth extending to a gummy smile. She couldn’t bring herself to consider all the sleepless nights, the endless nursings, every bottle and changed diaper. It was insurmountable. It was a roaring tidal wave, and she couldn’t move to get out of the way.

What if this kid liked megafauna when he grew up? What if he wanted to smile - smile at Rex? What if he was bad at school, even though he enjoyed it?

The thought of never knowing was a stab through the heart. Almost as bad as never knowing the man Obi-Wan would grow up to be. Never watching Obi-Wan be Knighted, never watching him shoot shot after shot until he landed a bullseye every time.

“I can’t assign my own missions,” Rex said.

Padme opened her eyes, squinting blearily at him.

“I need a mission to live. All I’ve ever had is - a crap mission. A crap life. I want a new one, Padme.” Rex just shook his head, his throat dry. “I don’t know what to do without one. I need one that makes it all worth it.

“I can’t assign it to myself. I’m a soldier. I need a leader to assign it to me.” He watched as Padme’s eyes slowly widened, the rich brown peeking out from behind the flyaway strands of hair. “But I’m a Mandalorian too. I need a strong leader. I won’t follow anyone else.” He bared his teeth in an almost-smile, and Padme’s eyes widened further. “Clones follow the strongest leaders. We eat the weak ones. I’m in the market, you know.”

Padme slowly pushed herself up, eyes widening and widening. Mind churning. Heart thumping.

“You know what a clone would do for their mission, Padme.”

“You’ve betrayed your mission before,” Padme rasped out.

Rex shrugged, shifting the baby slightly. “I had a weak leader.”

Her eyes darted to Luke, pliant and still against Rex’s chest. Were they supposed to be so quiet? Weren’t they supposed to be screaming?

“You want me.” Yes, obviously. Rex was a free man, he got to pick this shit now. It was the closest thing to freedom he could bear. Her eyes darted from Rex to Luke, then back again. “What if I’m not good enough?”

She never would have asked that question a month ago. It had never occurred to Padme that she might not be good enough. That she might be too weak to hack it. Personally, Rex found that the soldiers with a good understanding of their mortality lived longer.

Rex gave a small shrug. “Tano’s beat me up enough times over the last two weeks that I’d follow her. I bet she could always use another soldier. All I’m good for, mostly.”

Padme reached out, arms shaking and weak, and grabbed the thin fabric of Rex’s shirt. He let her pull him in, and for the first time Rex recognized that she had the exact same crazy eyes as Ahsoka. The lady who tried to decapitate him. Wonderful.

“Here’s your mission, Rex,” Padme said, as the baby sucked in a gasping breath. “I’ll be your strongest leader. I’ll be stronger than the damn Emperor. And you will keep my children alive.”

And Rex couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, ma’am.” Just to be an asshole, he added, “I’ll be waiting for you to slip up. The minute you do…that traitor Jedi won’t be able to save you.”

“It’s ‘my lady’,” Padme said coolly, and Rex barked a laugh.

“Yes, my lady. I’ll protect your children.”

“I have a war to fight, Rex,” Padme said. Her insane eyes were growing clearer, sharper - no less intense, but more focused. She needed a mission as badly as she did. “I won’t always be able to be there. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I’m a clone, my lady,” Rex said. “I’ll be whoever you need me to be.”

In the end, she kept her part of the bargain and more. She never once asked him to join the Rebellion, and listed him as a civilian on every personnel report. His bedraggled, brainwashed brain would have fought back. He needed an alor, a head of household - not a co-parent, not a friend. She never tried to give him days off, and she never took a day off. In this respect, he learned from the first parent he had ever known - that following the strongest protected the weakest, and that following the strongest was the closest thing to strong enough.

The woman was on track for Supreme Chancellor, or whatever the new equivalent would be. After they removed some final loose ends there likely wouldn’t be anybody in the galaxy more powerful than her.

Just strong enough to keep a hold on Rex. But he couldn’t pretend to mind.

***

Rex hadn’t been avoiding Cody. He just fucking hated speaking to the man.

It was both very easy and very difficult to avoid Cody. It was easy because he had barely left the Queen’s office in the last three days. Apparently it was pretty unusual behavior for him, and had sent the 501st gossiping behind their hands over why. Was he just so busy working hard to uphold the 501st’s integrity through extensive diplomatic and political negotiation that left him way too busy for petty day to day palace things? (Obviously, said every clone who worried a snitch might be in earshot). Was he upset that the Empire had fallen, that the 501st were surrendering? (He’s certainly mourning, everybody agreed, but the Commander doesn’t get upset).

Or was it Obi-Wan?

“He’s mad that the Rebel traitors got their hands on him,” one said to another. “It’s like he’s not even 501st anymore. It’s an insult to the Commander.”

“No way,” another said to another. “That honor duel was Mandalorian to Mandalorian. The General didn’t betray us.” No matter what Rex - or the gossip train staff - heard, none of them could even imagine Ben betraying them. “But the General won, didn’t he?”

Of course he did, he’s the General, the General’s the strongest, etc etc.

“But that’s it,” Jesse said, who mostly sought out Rex to yell at him. Rex had the impression that he may have hurt Jesse’s feelings. “If the General won, then the Commander lost.”

“Wow,” Rex said, “the Empire hasn’t taken away your ability to count. Congratulations.”

“So why did the Commander let him live?” Jesse continued, after taking another swing at Rex. “That’s not Mandalorian. It’s just embarrassing. For Cod - the Commander, I mean.”

That was when Rex started yelling at Jesse about how their collective shitty childrearing shouldn’t have encouraged an eighteen year old to kill his father, and everything devolved from there.

“It’s shameful,” Appo said, who did not seek out Rex but who let Rex speak to him. Sometimes Rex thought that Appo might have missed him - but maybe he was imagining it. Appo was even worse than Cody in a lot of ways. “The Commander’s lost his honor. It was the General’s right to spare him, obviously. But it’s embarrassing for the Commander. He can’t be happy.”

“Have y’all lost respect for him?” Rex asked, fascinated. “The D batches worship the guy. Half of Cody’s rep is on that infallibility.”

Appo was silent for a long moment. Rex had just about given up on getting an answer when he finally spoke. “Even the Commander isn’t perfect.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Rex panned.

Appo started, jolting forwards. “Are you going to tell him I said that?”

“Uh -”

“Don’t tell him I said that, Rex, I swear to a hundred gods -”

This place was demented.

But weren’t they saying that? Wasn’t that the whisper on the wind? That Cody was dishonored, shamed?

The fact that Cody owed Ben a life debt now was so obvious that they didn’t even need to whisper about it. And owing somebody a life debt was shameful. You had to work off the shame of it - that was the debt. The only thing worse would be to dishonor the debt.

Despite what all those Mandalorian romance stories and soap operas waxed on about, a life debt was about as common as your dead boyfriend’s twin brother coming back from the dead. There had to be specific circumstances, and it had to be recognized by the alor. They couldn’t exist between clan members, as saving each other’s lives was part of their obligation towards each other as a clan. They couldn’t exist between a Mandalorian and their alor for the same reason. Anybody under the age of majority couldn’t owe one. They normally didn’t happen during active warfare, since it was all part of the battle.

Really, the most beskar-clad way to induce the debt was for one party to have complete entitlement under Mandalorian law to execute the other - and for that party to choose to spare their life. For those old-timey Mandalorians, it was probably an act of judicial mercy - bumping down your punishment from an execution to a life sentence. It wasn’t the most common way, but Ben and Cody’s case was practically irrefutable.

It couldn’t exist between family members, but Ben hadn’t been quiet when he disowned Cody. The only alor around to verify - besides, perhaps, Padme, who would ask what the fuck everybody was talking about - was Cody himself. And Cody accepted responsibility.

Maybe Ben really was a diplomatic genius, trained by the best negotiator in the GAR: he had accidentally found the only way to tame the Commander of the 501st.

However Cody would pay that off, Rex didn’t know. It was between the two of them. Ben would never use that obligation on behalf of the Jedi-Rebel Alliance or his political interests. Knowing Ben, he probably would never use it. Knowing Ben, he was fully aware that made it a thousand times worse.

He was still the same kid dangling blackmail in front of your nose - and the same kid taking all responsibility when discovered. Of course, he had ditched them for books on reptiles…

But if Cody took responsibility, then Rex did too, and he knocked on Cody’s office door with only about five minutes of hesitation.

“Come back with an appointment!” Cody called.

Rex sighed and opened the door. He stepped inside, letting the door glide shut after him, and masterfully swallowed every snide remark. He would have never come here for anybody other than Padme and Ben.

Cody, obviously, was sitting in the queen’s seat with his feet kicked up on the ornate desk. Actually - considering the smaller seat pushed to the side of the room, and the comparative size of the comfortable leather office chair Cody sat in now, he may have liberated the seat from the office of a grown man instead of a teenager. He was dressed in the stormtrooper bodysuit - identical to their GAR bodysuits, but if Cody wore it then it was stormtrooper - with the bottom half still armored, but he had swapped out the upper torso plate with a buttoned yellow blasterproof jacket. Looked terrible with his skin tone, but the gold always did.

A far better sight was Echo, who was sitting in the leather chair across from him. He had swapped out his usual blue jacket for a black one, but seeing as Rex had done the same years ago he had no room to talk. He grinned at Rex, offering a two fingered salute, and Rex grinned back.

“There’s that ugly mug.” He clapped Echo on the shoulder, ignoring Cody and his glower entirely, and sat on the arm of the chair next to Echo. “The kids were asking after you, did you know that?”

“Yeah? Omega’s still talking about how pretty their mother is, I think she has a crush.” The kids loved Echo, even if Omega was their favorite person in the galaxy. Rex wasn’t jealous. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t compete with a chronically cheerful teenager, who was him, but a girl. Why did kids like girls so much anyway? Whatever. “What’d they say?”

“Well,” Rex continued cheerfully, “they kept on asking me where the haunted specter of a murdered Pre-Republic protocol droid went -”

Echo tried to kick him off the chair, making Rex shove him back, making Echo try to kick him harder, making Cody throw a datapad at Rex’s forehead that he only barely dodged.

“Settle down, cadets,” Cody barked, and Echo and Rex guiltily cut it out. “What do you want, Rex?”

Rex continued to ignore him, pretending he didn’t notice how he steadily began fuming. “You know I actually had a full conversation with Luke a few weeks ago?”

“Really?” Echo asked, playing along - which was how he’d earned favorite brother, even though he’d point out that there wasn’t much competition lately. “That’s great. I mean, I talk with him all the time, but I’m really happy for you -”

“Oh, you do not.”

“He can have a full conversation in Binary!” Echo swore, making Rex roll his eyes. Cody grit his teeth. “What? You’re just jealous because you can’t speak it.”

“I can understand it.” You didn’t spend six years constantly around Artoo without picking up a great deal of curses. “I’m just a normal person who can’t make those sounds with my mouth.”

“It’s not that hard. It’s all in the tongue.”

“And in the cybernetic enhancements. The minute I misplace half my limbs and turn into a cyborg I’ll start composing damn sonnets.”

“Cool off, Rex. It’s not my fault you’re worse at languages than a three year old.”

Cody lowered a foot and kicked the desk, hard. The sound was like a whip-crack, sending the entire heavy wood table rattling, and both Rex and Echo jumped. “Is there something you want, Rex?”

What an asshole. Rex finally looked at him, fighting the urge to straighten out of his slouch. “Yeah, to be off this damn planet so the kids will stop crying. But I can’t exactly go until your Jedi mind-healer shows up -”

“Do not call it that.”

“Honestly, that’s the polite term.” Echo popped his jaw, grimacing. “It’s really more like a psychic tumor removal.”

“Both of our psychic tumors were tortured out of us,” Rex told Cody flatly, “so don’t start moaning about it.”

“Why are you in my office?” Cody cut in. Strangely, he looked just a little stymied. “Talking about - toddlers?”

“I’m in your office because I needed to ask Echo about his reconstruction agreements with the Gungans.” Which was true, more or less - he left out the fact that the Naboo Resistance was another party in those conversations. He didn’t owe Cody a sitrep anymore. “And I’m talking about toddlers because my kids haven’t disowned me yet. I know that’s an unrelatable feeling.”

But Cody just stared at him. Not angry or offended. He didn’t snap at Rex or bristle. He just stared, as if he was a hard right turn from confused. “Your kids?”

Hurt stabbed Rex’s chest.

Why? That was ridiculous. Cody was the living person Rex hated most in the damn galaxy. People you hate weren’t supposed to hurt your feelings. That was why you hated them. So they couldn’t hurt your feelings anymore. So you’d stop caring.

But Rex was almost twice Ben’s age now, and he knew enough to know that hate didn’t solve as much as you thought it did. Or hoped it would. Pity.

“Yeah, Cody,” Rex said, feeling all of five damn years old, “my kids. Thought you’d know, what with the five different Imperial assassins I killed over their cribs.”

Cody blinked, hard. Realization slowly clicked onto his face. “Amidala’s children. That’s right. Our spies said that you had been hired as a bodyguard.” Every spy that they had only found out too late. Rex earned his keep. “Why? You were a damn kid yourself - never mind. Misses me why they'd waste an honorable soldier on some babysitting gig for a traitor’s children. Whatever. If that’s all you -”

An insane, stupid, pathetic voice in Rex’s brain cried out - he doesn’t even care?

“They’re my mission,” Rex said. He had to put it in a way that Cody understood. That was the only way Rex could understand, three years ago. He found himself slipping off the chair’s arm, ignoring the way Echo leaned away. “Lady Amidala gave me custody of them. Does that not mean anything to you anymore?”

Cody stared at him. Deep inside his sunken, dead eyes, something sparked.

“Your kids,” Cody repeated.

Rex tensed, fighting the urge to - what? Protect somebody who wasn’t here? Protect himself? Fighting the urge to reach out? “My kids. And hers. Luke and Leia. They’re three. Spitting image of their mother.”

Something in Cody was leaning forward. He was frozen still, but there was something in his eyes that leaned forward. Hungry. “Lives like theirs - they’re survivors, yeah?”

“Obviously.” Rex’s voice was hoarse. Why? “Once they - they started wailing up a storm in the middle of the night. Couldn’t calm them down for anything. Woke up the whole damn base. We were all so awake, we heard the air raid before our sirens even went off. Six months old and they saved our shebs.”

Cody’s lip twitched. In Mandalorian, he said, “A strong character.”

“Leia’s nothing but character.” Why was he telling Cody this? Why did he need to understand? “She’ll bargain anything out of anybody. Bail calls her ‘Senator’, as a joke - but she keeps on starting fights she can’t finish. I can’t make her stop, really.”

“I threw you into an eel pit,” Cody said, straight faced. “You learned not to pick fights with sea life after that.”

“I still have scars from that! I almost died!”

“Don’t be dramatic. I would have fished you out if you started drowning.” Cody shrugged. “And you stopped picking fights.”

“I wouldn’t throw Leia into an eel pit!” Rex remembered that. It had probably helped in the long run, but in the short term it had been terrible. He didn’t know why it was so important that Cody know this - what he was saying, when he said that. “I can’t imagine doing that to her!”

“You aren’t teaching them the spirit?” Cody demanded incredulously. Why were eels the spirit all of a sudden? “You’ll weaken their character, Rex. That’s not protecting them.”

“You sound like Jango!” He never used to sound like Jango - or maybe he always had, and Rex only realized when he began saying things that made no sense. Or no longer made sense. “We weren’t Jango’s mission, not like you and I have missions. We were just his tools. Why the hell should I worry about what he would think of me?”

“Obviously he was an asshole,” Cody said, a little defensively - as if he’d had to defend this position a lot recently. “But he wasn’t always wrong -”

“I don’t hear Jango when I secure a perimeter,” Rex said, cutting him off. “I don’t think about what he would do when Luke’s trying to run off a cliff and Leia’s making friends with another Ewok. I keep on hearing your voice. I can’t stop wondering If I’m doing half as good a job as you would. Forget about living up to Jango, have you ever tried living up to you?”

“Fucking impossible,” Echo muttered, clearly living for the Rex v. Cody drama. As always. Asshole.

“That doesn’t mean you have to throw their heritage away.” For the first time, Cody seemed uncomfortable. “Jango was - he wasn’t a clone, he didn’t understand the mission. But being a Mandalorian is still worth something.” His mouth twisted slightly. “I bet Amidala forbade it. They’re always trying to tell you what’s best for them. As if they know.” He looked back at Rex, strangely intent. Echo mouthed ‘they?’. “She doesn’t have to know that you’re teaching them the right things. I taught you and Ben in secret, that’s how it’s supposed to be. If she gave you custody, it’s none of her business how you teach them.”

Rex felt dizzy. Cody was looking at him so seriously, as if he could never be wrong. As if he lived in a galaxy it was true. “I’m not going to go behind their mother’s back. I don’t have to do that. We’re free men, Cody, we don’t have to hide anything. I volunteered for this mission, she didn’t force it on me.” Cody blinked in surprise. Surprise! “I had lost everything. I’d lost you. Ben was dead. But helping Padme, taking care of Luke and Leia - I knew I could do that. You’d done it. And I’m the kind of idiot who wanted to be just like you.”

“Wait,” Cody said. “You asked to do it?”

The question stopped Rex short. It was a ridiculous question. Rex had resigned explosively from the military, and Cody had no military left to serve. Nobody could make either of them do anything, technically. He opened his mouth, ready to instantly yell that of course he decided to raise his own damn kids, had you thought this entire conversation that she was forcing me, you maniac - but the words froze in his mouth, halted by a terrible wave of sadness.

When would Cody be free? Nobody could free him. He was too powerful to be liberated, and too proud to leave. The galaxy chained him with false choices and inescapable responsibilities, and now he held himself at gunpoint. He wanted to leave more than anything, more than he wanted to live, but he could only see freedom in death.

Rex wanted to shake him. There was freedom here. Rex lived it; Rex breathed it. His kids were free, their mother was free. The only person left holding others captive was Cody, and the only person left holding Cody captive was Cody.

The prisoner and the jailor. The one who hurt and the one who was hurt. The father and the son. And Rex, who was just Rex, couldn’t understand anymore.

“I mean,” Echo said, “to be fair, it’s a good deal.”

Rex and Cody snapped their attention away from each other and bore it down upon Echo, who was oblivious.

“Oh, get a clue, Echo,” Cody said, for the five hundredth time in his life. “We’re busy -”

“Yeah, Echo,” Rex said, “read the room -”

“Just think about it, right?” Echo did not get the clue or read the room. “Amidala took a giant gamble in trusting Rex. I can’t imagine how desperate she was, honestly, it’s pretty insane to ask Darth Vader’s old right hand man to -”

“I get it,” Rex said uncomfortably. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, but he couldn’t help but think it was unfair. He’d never done anything wrong. He wasn’t like Cody. Rex hadn’t killed a single baby or committed one genocide. He wasn’t like the rest of the 501st. He liked to think he was a good person. “Shut up.”

Cody coughed something that sounded a lot like ‘hypocrite’. Rex kicked his desk.

“But imagine the payoff, right?” Echo continued, pretend-oblivious. “All day every day bodyguard, whose only priority in life is your kid. If that kid’s his mission, that kid’s his galaxy. Don’t gotta give him vacations, don’t gotta give him breaks, don’t gotta pay him -”

“Nobody at the Rebellion was paid,” Rex said, unnecessarily aggressively. “It wasn’t exactly a hired gig!” He paused a beat, chewing over something. “Wait, is that why Organa kept on trying to give me money? Was he trying to pay me? I thought he kept on losing bets with Padme.”

“Dishonorable,” Cody condemned. “You didn’t do it for money.”

“Exactly -”

“I just embezzled,” Echo said. “Musta stole millions from the banking clan the last few years. Op expenses, you know. Hound’s massif chow, Omega’s mpop posters, that kind of thing.” He waved a hand, slouching in his seat a little. Rex had never gotten used to that - to Echo, human. “But it’s more than the fact that you scored an employee who thinks accepting pay would be embarrassing, right? They’re your kids. For as long as it’s your mission, they’re your kids. And you’re their perfect parent. A clone’s never too busy for them, too tired or stressed. He never needs breaks or rest from looking after them. He’ll never snap at them or complain. He’ll love them more than anything, and his devotion’s unmatched. And we don’t even have to want to do it. Isn’t that weird?”

The words hit at something strange in Rex, an invisible attack from his left flank that left him rolling on the defensive. “That’s what it used to be like,” Rex said gruffly, and Cody’s head snapped to look at him. “I was perfect. Two newborns, their mother practically immobile from depression, as a new war began. All I thought about was them, and - and my anger. If I stopped and slowed, then it all came rushing in. So I didn’t. They saved me, or saved me from thinking about it. I didn’t have to change. I could still be a soldier. They didn’t need me to be a soldier, but - but I needed it.” He looked away harshly, memories of that time rushing in. It had been hard. He hadn’t been in a good place, and was still vaguely homicidal to boot. “I don’t know what changed. One day, I didn’t need it anymore. I could put it down. And Luke and Leia stopped being my mission and they just became…”

What did they become? He wasn’t their father, but they were his kids. He didn’t want to be their father. They didn’t need one. No matter how much Padme worried, he would never replace her.

They weren’t a mission anymore. They weren’t a distraction. Rex felt like they had suffered for it. He wasn’t indefatigable anymore. He could let every human part of himself come rushing in - the tiredness, the frustration, the pain. He wasn’t perfect anymore.

“We don’t need to be perfect,” Echo said to Cody, unknowingly…echoing Rex’s own thoughts. Or, judging by the wry look on his face, he knew exactly what Rex was thinking. “We’re people. We can’t be perfect. We need help too. I think it’s okay to let them help us.”

Cody bristled, expression twisting. “As if I haven’t failed Ben enough -”

A knock echoed sharply through the office, and all three men jerked sharply to attention. Cody glanced at a clock on his desk - when Rex craned his head to look he saw that it was 0700, and as such they were probably running into an appointment. Cody scowled, shooting death ‘shut up and don’t interrupt this or I’ll tell Prime on you’ looks at Rex and Echo, before straightening. Rex and Echo adopted faux-innocent looks.

“Come in.”

And, to Rex’s shock, he saw Nemone poke her head inside the office. She leaned in, and when she saw Rex and Echo her eyes widened, but she quickly stepped inside anyway. She tugged at something, and Rex watched her gently guide Wola inside.

Wola had a death grip on Nemone’s hand, but the woman was perfectly calm as she approached Cody’s desk. She and Wola stopped a healthy distance away, far behind where Echo and Rex sat and stood, and she disentangled her hand from Wola’s just long enough for both of them to curtsey in unison. They were both wearing the palace staff robes again, and with the draping robes Nemone looked disturbingly like everyone else.

“Commander.” Nemone folded her hands in front of her, and Wola wound her fingers behind her back in a badly hidden show of anxiety. “Thank you for seeing us.”

“Of course.” Cody beckoned them closer, and Nemone gently put one hand on Wola’s back and steered her forward. Rex tried to wave reassuringly, but Nemone ignored him. Wola looked at him with wide eyes, and slowly waved back. “You’re the - cook, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cody’s eyebrow ticked down, which was the closest he ever got to showing confusion. “Do you want the actual cook out of prison?”

“That would be difficult, sir,” Nemone said, voice effortlessly conveying a ‘duh’. “You executed him. For embezzlement.”

“You can’t even remember the people you’ve executed?” Rex asked Cody flatly. “Terrible fucking look, brother.”

“Shut up, Rex,” Cody said, with the long intonation of a phrase said too many times to count. “You can’t expect me to remember every damn head I’ve chopped off.” Echo pointedly looked at a wide-eyed Wola and coughed. “Right. What is it you want, then?”

Nemone hardened her expression. Rex watched her do it with a kind of strange fascination. She didn’t do it like a clone would. It was more like she was holding her breath, keeping every inconvenient emotion buttoned tightly behind her lips. “My assistant, Wola Uuvani, wants to ask you for a favor.” She looked down, gently pushing at Wola’s back until she stepped forward. “Go on.”

Cody stared at the girl. The girl stared back, wide eyed. Rex saw Cody’s struggle in real time. It was a kid. Cody did Ben for years, Cody did kids. But this was a kid kid. What was he supposed to do with that? She wasn’t even saluting. Was she going to talk to him? He has social anxiety, he hates talking with natborns outside of military settings. Maybe he could make Rex deal with this - no, Rex would make fun of him.

Rex gave Cody a pointed expression that made fun of him. Cody scowled at him. Wola’s eyes widened in terror.

In a true soldier’s act of military courage, Cody addressed the child. “So what do you want?”

Wola stared at the floor and mumbled something.

“Mumbling’s for the half-hearted,” Cody said, probably far more harshly than he meant to. Nemone’s eyebrow twitched. “Speak up.”

That did it. Wola tilted her chin up, staring intently at Cody in a perfect little copy of Nemone. The girl probably worshiped her. Who else did she have? “Commander, I want to call home. You can watch me do it and you can make it only ten minutes but I need to call home. I’m ready to give my reasons. Thank you. The first reason is -”

“I let you call home,” Cody said, cutting her off. “You called your mother a week ago. Is there an emergency?”

Rex looked at Echo, who spoke over Wola’s mumbled denial. “The Empire let the staff call home once every two weeks as a wellness check kind of thing. Supervised and everything, but I heard that they developed a really killer code system.” Nemone abruptly looked extremely innocent and youthful. “Once that jerk over there put this place on complete blackout, he let them call their parents and let them know they were alive. No other communication from the outside world for the past two weeks but us.”

“The code system was pretty good,” Cody said dryly, making Nemone’s eyes widen. “The general and 10th Sibling never figured it out. Grand Inquisitor could have if he hadn’t been chasing some magical triangle for months. Almost reminded me of our barrack codes when we were six.”

“Fox’s was fucking impossible.” Rex hadn’t thought about that in years. He tried to ignore the approving note in Cody’s voice when he spoke about the Grand Inquisitor. “He kept on getting frustrated when nobody else could figure it out.”

“I think he was under the impression the rest of us had also memorized every ceiling tile,” Cody said wryly. He glanced back at Nemone, who was now gripping Wola’s hand tightly. “They know you’re alive, and I’m not in the mood for whatever games you’re playing. No.”

Nemone inhaled sharply. “But Wola -”

“I don’t repeat myself.” He said it simply, absolutely, and in that second Rex could hear no difference between him and Jango. “If that’s everything, you’re excused.”

Every inch of Rex recoiled at the thought of undermining Cody, or arguing with him in front of a natborn. This was the field, he was the CO, bring it up in private if you have to bring it up at all. But Rex was so damn sick of Jango Fett, and he opened his mouth -

“You didn’t listen to my reasons!” Wola insisted. Nemone, who had been in the middle of curtseying her goodbye, froze. “You have to listen to them, you’re not being fair!”

“I’m not fair,” Cody said. He looked at Nemone, clearly dismissing Wola entirely as her expression darkened. “Don’t waste my time again. Out.”

For the first time, Nemone tensed in fear. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry.” She curtseyed very quickly before grabbing Wola’s hand, tugging her away. “Wola, curtsey to the Commander and excuse yourself.”

The leftover childhood respect, given to the wrong person, dissipated instantly in the face of genuine fear. “You’re fine, girls.” He looked down at Wola, who had started digging in her feet at Nemone’s increasingly insistent tugging. “Wola, I’m sorry the Commander’s being a jerk. You and I can talk outside about your phone call and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Rex,” Cody said, “you can sit down.” Read: if you continue undermining me I’ll have your head on a pike.

But Wola ignored Rex. She looked steadily at Cody instead, possessed of a great and terrible ten year old conviction. “It’s about my brother! The Empire only let me phone home to my Mom. My brother hasn’t seen me in a year. He’s only three. And I read in a book in the library last week that three year olds have problems remembering things from when they were two, even if it’s their sister. If I don’t talk to Myka, he’s going to forget who I am. It can start happening any day now. If I wait one more week he’s not going to remember me! It is an emergency, and I’m not going away until you let me talk to him!”

Chaos erupted. Nemone was apologizing over and over, Rex was automatically promising that they could work something out because the thought of Leia away from Luke for that long made him want to die by association, Echo was already bitching Cody out for being a jerk because Omega still called Echo every day when he was gone, and Cody was slumped in his chair rubbing the bridge his nose ignoring absolutely everybody.

Finally, he held up a hand, and everybody fell silent either out of fear or habit. Rex fucking hated how the ‘Cody Knows Best’ protocol was more stubborn than the Sith loyalty one. He’d tried to kill the man even more than Ben had, he shouldn’t still listen to him.

Granted, Ben hated him five times as much as Rex did, and when Cody had grounded him a few days ago he had walked straight off and grounded himself. Rex had been shocked; Cody had accepted it as his due in life.

Cody made another gesture - ‘stay here’ - and Nemone reluctantly stopped trying to haul Wola off. He made another gesture - ‘come here’ - and Wola reluctantly walked forward until she could reach out and touch Cody’s desk.

Then Cody leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk. He stared fixedly at Wola, unblinking and intense, and he didn’t let her look away.

“Convince me.”

The silence was immediately broken.

“I’m sorry, Commander, but -”

“Cody, lay the fuck off her -”

“Are you serious?”

“That’s not fair,” Wola protested. “You’re not gonna listen to me anyway!”

“All of you girls are used to getting your own way. You want something, fight for it.” Cody folded his hands over his stomach, leaning back. “You’re a political hostage. Politic.”

Hundred gods. Rex groaned. Mandalorians…

Wola was quiet for a long second, chewing her lip and bunching her hands in her dress, before she took a big breath.

“If you don’t let me call my brother I’m going to tell Mr. Rex to tell your kid that hates you that you’re a child abuser and he’s going to hate you even more and try to kill you again and he’ll actually do it this time.”

Everybody stared at her. Nemone was obviously praying to herself. Echo looked impressed. Rex had to agree with him - Nabooan nobility fought dirty. But did she have to bring him into it?

But Cody’s expression didn’t change. He just blinked, as if she had provided some very evocative statistics about homelessness on Coruscant. “The Jedi who hates me already knows that I’m mean to children.” Wola cursed under her breath. “And if he spared my life once, a slight against you won’t push him over the edge. Try again.”

Wola pursed her lips, changing tactics. “If you let me call my brother I’ll tell Mr. Rex to tell your kid that you’re acting really nice to children and that he should forgive you, because you’ve changed and you aren’t mean to children anymore.”

Cody’s lip twitched. “Better. But you ought to account for my character. I don’t change. I don’t ask for forgiveness, either. When you negotiate, you ought to consider what the other person wants and they’re willing to give in order to get what they want. And you have to make it seem as if you can deliver. What do you think I want, Wola?”

What did he want? It was practically a trick question. Cody wanted everything, and admitted to none of it. Rex shot a glance at Wola, ready to protest whatever ridiculous game Cody was playing, but when he saw her he stopped short.

He had never seen a young girl look that intent. She was chewing on a flyaway lock of her curly dark hair plastered against tan skin, fists clenched, mind working furiously. It must feel like a matter of life and death to her. Or maybe it was a matter of life and death - a matter of Wola’s fight to live, the death of her spirit. It was the kind of confrontation where the spark of a mandokarla blew into a flame, or all hope was crushed.

“You got shamed and dishonored.” Wola spoke with complete certainty, despite the fact that she couldn’t have any real idea of what shame and dishonor meant. Or maybe she did - when the 501st gossiped, a Naboo ear was around every corner. “You want your honor back. So…”

“Wrong tactic,” Cody said. “You didn’t understand what you’re offering. The Jedi is the only one who can honor me again. You can’t deliver on that bargain.”

“We’ll honor you,” Wola said furiously. “You’ve never delivered on a bargain with us. You’ve never treated us with dignity. This is our palace too. I can’t help with the 501st, but we live here too. That’s not nothing.”

Cody stared at her. He considered it.

He looked at Nemone. “Want to back that up?”

Nemone set her jaw. “I’m the cook, and one of the oldest. My respect’s far from nothing.”

Cody hummed. He dropped his feet off the desk, sitting straighter in his chair. Wola’s eyes widened. “Terms accepted. Nice move using something that doesn’t physically exist.” He extended a hand across the table, eyeing Wola pointedly until she quickly leaned forward and shook it furiously. His calloused, rough hands seemed to swallow hers. “Agreed. You’re both excused. Echo, show them out and set up a call with Wola’s brother. Two 501st supervisors, ten minutes.”

“Fifteen,” Wola threatened.

“You should have negotiated the time before we shook on it.” Cody made an impatient gesture, cuing Echo to stand up and Nemone to grab Wola’s hand again. But he didn’t look away from Wola, keeping her frozen to the floor. “A final word to the wise. Next time, don’t approach a bargaining table with no leverage. Courage is useless without a way to survive. A month ago I would have had you and your friend here beat and tossed out.”

Wola looked up at Nemone, who bent down and whispered the definition of leverage to her. Rex thought about a teenager lazily waving around blackmail. She looked back at Cody, scowling furiously. “I did have leverage. That wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah?” Cody asked lazily. “Because my brothers would have protected you?”

“No,” Wola said, “because I heard you at the door. You wouldn’t fail Ben. Goodbye.”

She flounced off, committed to a show of arrogant strength in front of the enemy, and Nemone gave Cody a final hurried curtsey before running off after her. Echo stood up to follow after them, stopping only to give Cody a final bizarre look.

He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He gave Rex a final nod - in the language of clones, ‘see you on the other side of this horrific battle’ - and swept out the door behind the girls, closing the door with a sharp click.

A fascist mass murderer and a nanny with the same face stood in a queen’s office, trapped by the inextricable web of a past too painful to forget and a future too uncertain to ignore.

They didn’t know what to do with each other anymore. Cody had always known how to handle Rex - how to keep him in line, how to keep him safe. Over the past three years, Rex had always known how to deal with Cody - a revenge vow and incessant hate. But they had lost all familiar tools to use with and against each other, and were left to fumble around with what remained and what couldn’t die.

“Well,” Cody said finally, leaning back again. “That went well.”

“You’re a sick freak.”

“What did I do this time?” Cody protested, apparently genuinely confused. “I gave her what she wanted and taught her a valuable lesson while I was at it. I’m still Commander of the 501st, Rex - playing friendly would be insulting to everybody.”

As increasingly usual with Cody, it was technically true and missed the point entirely. “You terrified both of them to death. Didn’t you see how scared she was?”

“She’s been a political hostage for a year, I think she can handle me looking her in the eyes.” Cody huffed, propping his elbow on the chair’s arm and resting his chin on his fist. “It’s like a spar. You take a few bruises so you grow stronger. She’ll be tough when she grows up.”

“I wanted to be just like you my entire life, Cody,” Rex said. “But I don’t understand you anymore.”

Cody stopped short.

Rex turned to face him, standing in front of Kylantha’s desk and unable to fight the writhing feeling in his gut. Blanche should be in that seat. Cody should be - he should be somewhere fucking else, in anything but a stormtrooper’s armor. He should be with Ben. None of this was right.

“I love Luke and Leia more than I thought I could. I would do anything for them, like you would do anything for Ben. I always thought - no matter that we ended up as perfect opposites, we had to feel exactly the same about this.” Rex’s heart thumped hard in his chest, burning with something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t anger, but he didn’t know what else to call it. Maybe it was just fire, hot and strong. “But I never fucking got it. Because the idea of doing to Luke and Leia what you did to Ben is unimaginable to me.”

Cody looked away, expression twisting. “Shut up, Rex.”

“The thought of - of hurting them for their own good makes me sick. I can’t imagine refusing to acknowledge when I hurt them. Of trying to make them kill me, Rex, it’s fucking sick.” Rex’s breath heaved, heavy and thick. “Ben doesn’t hate you for that, but I do. It was cruel. I can’t imagine trying to turn Luke and Leia into murderers because I’m too much of a coward to live with my mistakes. Ben was right to disown you, because a parent wouldn’t do that.”

That snapped something in Cody. An awful pain flashed across his face, and for the first time Rex got a bare glimpse of a great and terrible guilt. But in the next second it was packed away, and Cody was snarling at him as if it was never there.

“I get it!” Cody yelled, pushing away from the table. “You’re the perfect person who makes all the right choices and joins up with the winning team and parents so damn perfectly. And I’m the fuck-up who made all the bad choices and killed all the good people. I’ve heard it enough from everybody else the last two weeks, Rex, so I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

Rex stood there in shock.

It was so wrong. Since when? What? Rain was falling from the ground. Since when was Rex - Rex, the defect - was Cody insane? Even more insane than Rex thought he was? As if Cody hadn’t been the perfect soldier, the perfect clone, the perfect man?

He finally found his voice, beating it into something strong. “You don’t believe any of it. You still don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“I made the smart choices,” Cody snapped. “You’re the impulsive -”

“Oh, I get it, I’m still the fuck-up -”

“When did I say that!”

“Just now, you called me impulsive -”

“Because you are!”

“What about you, Commander Perfect?” Rex snapped back. He was so angry, in only that way Cody could ever make him. “Let me guess - you think you did everything right because you can’t possibly do anything wrong. Because Cody hasn’t fucked up once in his life -”

“The Commander of the 501st doesn’t make mistakes - you don’t get there if you make mistakes -”

“While all I do is make mistakes,” Rex said loudly, barrelling over him. “While I’m the defect, the mediocre cadet who had to work five times as hard and fuck up five times as much. But who is CC-2224 without his superiority complex -”

“As if I didn’t work for all of this?” Cody snapped. “I didn’t trip and fall into it, you know! It’s not exactly easy for a clone to make it this far. Do you have any idea how many of my superiors I had to kill off?”

“What do you want, a medal?”

“They don’t give clones medals -”

“You do want a medal!”

“I don’t want a medal for keeping us together, Rex!” Cody was working himself up, and the loss of control was so bizarre it left Rex flat-footed. “I’m not asking anybody to thank me for becoming General Mass Murderer! I just need you to understand that I had to do it so you’ll stop berating me!”

“Ben didn’t duel you because you made mistakes!” Rex yelled, and Cody finally shut up. “He tried to duel you because you wouldn’t admit it! He doesn’t want a perfect Cody, he just wanted you! Why can’t you get that?”

Cody’s face twisted. “Keep the damn duel out of this. You don’t understand.”

“Who do you think is going to take him away from you, Cody?” Rex advanced, planting his hands and the desk and leaning in, but Cody didn’t move. He just looked away, like anybody who had been told that Mandalorians didn’t retreat. “Who’s left? I’m not going to separate the two of you because you aren’t a perfect 501st man. Trying to be a perfect 501st man and blackmail him into staying sure as hell didn’t keep him around. Nobody’s going to punish you for not being a perfect soldier anymore. He’s a grown-ass man, they sure as sixth hell can’t do it by taking him away!”

“Then why is he gone?”

The minute Cody said it she seemed to regret it. He clamped his jaw shut, looking away from Rex in some arrogant version of a shame he couldn’t admit.

Rex knew how he felt, as much as anybody could relate with Cody these days. How could he not? Rex had lost Ben too. He had blamed Cody - he had really blamed Cody - but he had blamed himself too. He hadn’t saved Ben. He had tried to wait until the last possible moment, and he had made his intentions so obvious that Cody sabotaged them. He knew Ben was in danger, and he was the only one in the galaxy who understood how severe the danger was, and he still hadn’t done anything.

He could have. Bly had the same misgivings, and Bly had been strong enough to grab his family and run. Why couldn’t Rex? Sith magic, stronger brainwashing, powerful failsafes, 501st cultism, Vader, whatever - Rex should have been stronger than it. Than all of it. He could have saved Ben - Obi-Wan - if he had just been good enough.

Rex had always been good enough before. But he had never been perfect.

Cody wasn’t like Rex. He had done everything right. He had marched to the beat and won the most power he physically could. He had become the image of a Mandalorian. He had been perfect, and done everything perfectly, and it still wasn’t enough. But Cody’s perfection had never been enough.

That whisper thin glimpse of understanding calmed Rex down, as much as anything could. He took several steps back, tearing down the ridiculous posturing, and did his best to take a deep breath. His soldier’s short patience had deepened into a parent’s well. Cody looked ashamed of his outburst, and was badly trying to hide it with anger. That had lost its novelty.

Very slowly, emphasis punctuating every word, as if he could make Cody finally fucking understand, Rex said, “You lost custody because you are a fucking asshole.” Cody’s silence was now definitely embarrassed. “And if you don’t shape up, he’s never going to talk to you again.”

He hoped it was a relief. That the evil forces controlling their lives, that hated them and wanted them to suffer, were gone. That Kamino didn’t control them anymore, and neither did Jango Fett. The Jedi didn’t control them, and the Empire didn’t either. That Ben didn’t hate him because of what he had been forced or born to do - that Ben just hated him because he was the biggest jerk in the sector. The only person who could decide what Cody did now was Cody.

It should have been a relief. Rex knew it was terrifying. Welcome to the galaxy, Cody.

“Get out, Rex.”

Sure. Rex was tired of this. “If you want to find me,” he said, “you know where I am.”

He closed the door behind him with a solid click, leaving Cody sitting proud in the queen’s office, perfectly alone.

There was a strange grief in his chest, sitting heavy and dull. He didn’t know why. This was his fresh start - all of their fresh starts. Even Cody’s, if he chose to take it. Why did he feel like something was gone? Something in his heart had been extinguished, and he didn’t know what it was.

He walked down the hallway in a strange fugue until he found an open door, and without thinking too hard about it he went in. It was just some random conference room, one of dozens. He didn’t pay any further attention to it. He collapsed in a plush leather chair, every bone in his body exhausted. A fire in his chest had gone out, but he didn’t feel any colder.

The realization, when it came, was obvious. Rex didn’t hate Cody anymore. He felt everything else in the sun - frustration, regret, anger, despair, pity - but not hate.

He was left only with the persistent and bone deep love, unmatched by its equally intense hate for the first time in years. He didn’t know what to do with that emptiness. He hadn’t realized that he needed it so badly.

Before he could think too hard about it he unclipped his comm from his arm, setting it on the table before clicking a speed dial frequency. The comm rang only twice - she spent half her life on her comm, she was never without it - before she picked it up.

Her figure fizzled into view before him. She was sitting at her desk, dressed only in her blue jumpsuit with her hair done up in her basic ornate assortment of dozens of braids. It was as casual as Padme ever got while working, and Rex folded his arms on the table before propping his chin on his flat hands. Her face lit up when she saw him, and Rex smiled crookedly back.

“If this is a report, call me on my professional line instead,” Padme said, happy smile spreading across her face. “Don’t get my hopes up that you want to spill Naboo gossip.”

“I keep the secrets of teenage girls, my lady,” Rex said seriously. But his smile widened anyway, letting the soft relief settle in his chest. “Just spoke with the babies this morning. I think gnawing on Ahsoka’s montrals is keeping them entertained.”

“It seems as if it’s keeping you entertained,” Padme said pointedly, and Rex rolled one shoulder in a sloppy shrug. “Honestly, Rex, sometimes I swear you’re always working to find little ways to get back at her.” Rex pulled down his collar and pointed empathetically at a hideous lightsaber scar. “Yes, yes, but that was three years ago and she was having a very difficult day.”

“Why do you always take her side!”

“Do I always take her side?” Padme asked pointedly. “Because I seem to remember that Ahsoka and I never agreed on a single thing for years. It was us versus her constantly.”

“You versus her,” Rex corrected. “I stayed out of it, my lady.” Every time. Nobody was stupid enough to get caught in the middle of a Padme and Ahsoka fight. They lasted six hours and had a bibliography. “Terms of our agreement is that I’m always on your side, no matter the opinion. So I never bothered having one.”

Padme’s smile slid from her face, and she sobered a little. Rex hadn’t reminded her about the agreement in a while. Sometimes Rex thought that Padme hoped he would forget. “Yes, well…Rex, about that. If this isn’t a good time, please tell me - I can’t imagine what kind of stress you’re dealing with over there, and you only accepted the mission because I asked - and I can bring it up later. Or in person - actually, perhaps in person would be best.”

“Ma’am.”

“Right. Yes.” She looked to the left, then tapped her pen. She tapped her pen some more. Thinking, but in an evasive way. “I know you may not think of it this way. But I can’t help but feel as if…no, I’m confident. I’m certain that I took advantage of you back then.”

Oh no. How long had she felt that way? “Ma’am, you didn’t. I wouldn’t have offered my help if I didn’t want to.”

“We were both in highly - vulnerable frames of mind. Neither of us were thinking straight.” Padme bit her lip, but he watched her force herself to look him in the eyes. Padme always faced up to it. To everything. Lately, anyway. “I don’t know what kind of person looks at a brainwashing victim, fresh off a week of Ahsoka’s aggressive interrogations, and thinks to herself - yes, let’s make him raise my children. It’s fine. If I mess it up, he’ll just kill me.” Her voice softened a little. “The kind of person who finds that a win-win, I suppose.”

“Wasn’t I the one who threatened to kill you?” Rex asked archly. “Oya 501st.” Far too late, he added, “And obviously I wouldn’t have actually killed you, my lady…”

Padme waved a hand impatiently. “No, it was helpful. The only thing worse than crippling postpartum depression is losing a bet.” This was not a normal woman. “I’m sorry, Rex. I was just considering the matter lately. When I realized that I…well, won the bet, I suppose.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Rex agreed warmly. “Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“Even though I’ve been a terrible leader to you.” Padme looked away, tapping her pen on the desk before forcing herself to put the pen down. “You’ve always done it all. I tried, Rex, I swear. I’m still trying. My best efforts are - an hour a day with them? Less, the last month.” Padme bravely kept her face still, and through the flickering blue holo Rex couldn’t see the sadness he knew was in her eyes. “While you’ve been amazing every second. I’ll admit it - I was scared of you at first, Rex. I knew you were…under control, between your vow and Ahsoka, but sometimes I had the impression it was…just barely…”

“Oh, I was insane,” Rex admitted easily. “Remember when I tackled Mace?”

“Yes! I told you to apologize, and you said -”

Rex grinned, and they both broke into laughter. “Sorry for waking you up, Luke!”

But when the rash of giggles faded, Padme’s voice grew soft again. “Maybe we were both insane. But when I felt like I was constantly on the edge of losing my grip, you always had everything in such perfect order. Just because I wrangled a promise out of you three years ago, and you were honor-bound to keep it. And now that I’ve…won, I suppose, I wanted to tell you that…I know it would be highly insulting to you to call it off. Ben said that - well, he told me not to. I’ll respect your commitment, and my own won’t waver. And even though I’m not sure what sort of mother it makes me, or what sort of head of household, I just wanted you to know that -”

“Padme.”

Padme stopped short. It wasn’t the first time he had called her that, but she never overcame her shock. Rex had the impression that some things just sounded wrong coming from his mouth.

“You’re a good mother.” If Rex had learned anything over the past few days, it was that. “You’ve been beating yourself up for needing help for years. Hasn’t felt great for me that sometimes you hate the fact that I’m there.” Padme winced, hard. “Hey, it’s fine. I wish I lived in a galaxy where a clone wasn’t necessary. But we don’t, and we just have to do the best we can.” Rex exhaled slowly. These words, at least, came easy. “Being back here’s made it pretty damn clear to me how much better I’ve gotten. Worse at being a soldier, probably a bodyguard, but better at…I don’t know. Rex?” Would that make sense to her? Or did she already know? “I can leave at any time, Padme. Every second I’m there it’s because I want to be. And - and even if both of us suck pretty damn hard sometimes, I think they’ll get over it. Maybe we can all suck together.”

“They can complain about us to each other,” Padme said faux-solemnly. “And when we’re both awful -”

“Ben’ll come in and do all their complaining for them.”

“If we’re short on arguments then you can show Ahsoka your lightsaber scar again.”

“I’m not letting that go,” Rex threatened. “She’s never living that down. Regressed my beliefs about dirty traitor Jedi two years, that woman did -”

“Omega’s always wanted another sister,” Padme mused loudly. “Do you think we can swap Leia out for -”

“Who, Boba? Let’s swap Ben out for Boba.”

“How would we tell the difference?”

“You’re terrible!” But Rex laughed anyway, and Padme didn’t bother fighting a snort. It was a very ignoble sound, and funny every time. “Tell me, has Leia finished that picture book yet? She’s been struggling on page three.”

“She would still be on page three, if Bail didn’t cheat and help her…”

And Padme detailed the whole story - and Rex had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be, and he listened to her tell it the whole way through.

#my writing #desperately need everyone to know that cody bribes obi-wan with Dinotopia so he doesn't notice the assasination conspiracy #i hope this doesn't break anyone's tumblrs...?#tcw cody #tcw rex

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