Screw Procedure

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38513596

Another one on ao3!!!!

Deadcember Day 26: "I Wasn't There"

“Tech? Do you have access to the GAR database?”

Tech turns around from where he’s doing some routine analytics on the Havoc Marauder’s systems. “Currently? No. But if you give me two minutes I should be able to get into the database quite easily.” He grabs his encrypted datapad and gets to work.

“Fortunately, the new Empire has yet to overhaul their systems.” He remarks, his fingers flying across the screen. He pauses in his frenzied movements, looking at the ‘pad.

“Alright, I’m in.” He hands the device to Echo. “I trust you know how to navigate everything.”

Echo exhales. “Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Tech.”

The Bad Batcher nods at him and returns to his previous task. Echo, meanwhile, takes the pad and sits down on his bunk.

He clicks on the search query at the top of the screen and searches “CT-7567,” waiting with baited breath as his results are acquired.

Rex’s file comes up.

Right at the top, in bold red text, reads: Status: KIA.

KIA.

Echo reloads the results, hoping it was a glitch.

Same thing.

Narrowly resisting the urge to hurl the ‘pad at a wall, he places it face-down on his bed.

Rex, dead.

Dead.

Echo wonders what got him. Maybe a stray bullet, or an explosion, or one of the countless other ways one can die when on the frontlines.

Or maybe—well, they had all heard about how the 501st marched on the Jedi Temple. It was all over the Imperial networks.

Maybe Skywalker killed him. It’s not a reality he can imagine, especially with how close the General and Rex were, but if Rex received the Order and tried to kill his Jedi, Skywalker may have not had a choice.

Echo could probably find out Rex’s last reported location and eliminate the need for speculation, but he didn’t feel like looking at that file again. Besides, it doesn’t make a difference, in the end. He’s still dead.

And Echo is still alive.

Kriff, Echo thinks, putting his head in his hand, I should have stayed. I never should have left.

Maybe he could have protected Rex. Maybe they could have escaped together.

But then he remembers the spark of pride in Rex’s eyes as the Captain watched Echo join the Bad Batch. Though he’s glad he joined them, it doesn’t erase the pain of knowing yet another brother is gone, the guilt of knowing he wasn’t there.

Rex was always the best of them; he was built just like every other reg, yet he stood out as the bravest, the most invulnerable.

Echo always thought Rex would be the one to survive the war, the one who would outlive the rest.

Echo never thought it would be him.

Right Hands of the Republic

Summary: Sabé and Rex have the worst jobs in the world.

Pairing: Background Anidala

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: None

Authors Note: It’s finally done! After months of inactivity! Big thanks to @transfetts for helping me edit this one! And a special shout out to @royalhandmaidens for helping me run with this idea, and being an incredible person to bounce off of ❤️

In all honesty, Sabé wasn’t sure if her day could get any worse.

Her life had been threatened before. That was easy to deal with. She had played the seven-string hallikset in front of millions of people. That was also easy, although in a different way. Sabé had fought the Battle for Naboo in the most uncomfortable outfit she’d ever worn, with a headpiece that weighed down her neck and made her look like a child wearing an oversized bonnet.

But standing here. Looking like an idiot next to the stiffest Trooper she had ever met? Today definitely took the cake as the worst day of Sabé’s life.

Sabé had never actually met a Clone Trooper before. Sure they were everywhere on Coruscant, they were practically everywhere in the universe, but Sabé had never actually met one before. The Coruscant guard didn’t really talk much, and she had only ever interacted with them as Padmé, not as Sabé.

But as soon as she saw Anakin and his trooper outside Padmé’s senate chamber, Sabé knew she would be spending some quality time with a Clone.

“General Skywalker,” Padmé started, and even with her hood covering her eyes, Sabé could practically see that dreamy look in Padmé’s gaze. Ugh. “How unexpected.”

Anakin wasn’t supposed to be back for weeks. He had returned from Umbara after a misunderstanding on the battlefield. Rumor had it that the GAR had suffered immense casualties and every available Jedi had been needed to finish the assault. Sabé wasn’t sure what was propaganda and what was the truth yet, but it seemed messy regardless.

And yet here Anakin was anyway. Sauntering through the senate halls as if nothing had happened and he wasn’t keeping the galaxy's biggest secret.

“Well you know how it is,” He says with a smirk, “I bring word from the Frontlines. I was hoping I could give you an update on our progress.”

What he really meant was, “We should both neglect our responsibilities and make out in your office and make Sabé super uncomfortable.” Or at least, that’s how Sabé heard it.

Playing third wheel was bad enough, but playing third wheel to a secret marriage between the dumbest Jedi and her best friend was possibly the worst way to spend an afternoon.

“Ani, you know I-“ Padmé starts, but he interrupts.

“Just a moment of your time senator,” He grabs at her hands gently, holding them near his chest. “Please?”

And Sabé knows then that Padmé is sold.

“Alright,” Padmé sighs, but she’s smiling. A lovesick type of grin that spreads warmly across her face. “Sabé, would you mind waiting here for a moment?”

“As you wish M’lady.” Sabé says. She actually did mind. A lot. But doing things she didn’t want to do was part of the job.

My hands are yours.

“Rex, why don’t you keep Sabé company for a bit? I’ll be right back.” Anakin winked as if to say “I won’t be right back”.

It took all of her Amidala training to hold back the eye roll.

And thus they stood.

And stood.

And stood.

Being a handmaiden meant a lot of standing around and waiting quietly. Standing behind Padmé as she addressed the Senate. Standing behind Queen Amidala as she addressed the senate.

It was a lot of senate and a lot of standing still. Sabé didn’t mind that. She liked listening and observing. What Sabé didn’t like was listening to her best friend fawn over a Jedi while she waited outside with a stranger.

Although the stranger probably didn’t like hanging around with her either.

Captain Rex hadn’t moved once. Hadn’t even addressed her. He stood at attention, armor faded and dented as he gazed silently ahead. He looked like he had seen better days. The paint was chipping off his arm brace and there was ash on his chest plate.

They must have gone straight for the senate building as soon as they had returned.

He was probably just as exhausted as her. And frustrated. Sabé let out a silent sigh. She was being unfair again. Not liking Anakin shouldn’t mean not liking his trooper.

So, Sabé takes a deep breath, without even moving, and tries to apply that “warmth” Yané always tried to teach her.

“So, see any good holovids latey?” Is the only thing she can think to say. Padme was a master at conversation, and although she had spent almost eight years imitating her, that was the one trait Sabé could not crack.

“I don’t have time off to watch Holovids.” His voice is mechanical under his mask, crisp and echoing.

It wasn’t like they were trying to be subtle or anything.

“Oh.” Is all Sabé says before they fall back into an uncomfortable silence. He seems to pity her though, for Captain Rex tries to start up conversation again after a few moments.

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

As if it is the will of the Force, suddenly there's laughter coming from Padmé’s chambers.

“No.” Sabé responds.

And suddenly there’s a crash, like a window shattering.

Forgetting her formalities, or her own embarrassment, Sabé instantly turns and slams into the door, forcing it open. The Captain is right behind her, blaster drawn. He almost runs right into her.

Padmé and Anakin are staring out a window. Anakin is leaning out, as if trying to see something. Padmé turns.

“Sabé. It was a reporter. I left my window open.”

Her heart drops.

Reporter. Open window. Secret affair.

Ruin.

Anakin seems much less panicked than Padmé, straightening himself and shutting the blinds. He looks… relieved? But Sabé has no time to untangle the map of his soul right now.

“What did he look like?” She asks firmly. There was little time for her to act, and she couldn’t waste a second.

“Dark hair, silver speeder bike. He was wearing a blue media jacket. Heading down to the lower levels.”

“Understood.” Sabé turns instantly, already planning the best route in her head. He would have had to take-

“Now wait just a minute.” Anakin. A minute is not something we have, Sabé wants to yell, but she keeps silent. “I’m not going to let Sabé go alone. She’ll never be able to catch that guy by herself.”

Yes I could. Sabé thinks. But still she keeps silent.

“Rex. Accompany Sabé. I want both of you back before we ship out.”

“Understood Sir.” The Captain stands at attention before quickly turning to Sabé.

Great. The one thing worse than being slowed down by Anakin, was being slowed down by his right hand. He had no idea how she operated. And he stuck out like-

Well he stuck out just as bad as a velvet robbed handmaiden.

“Whatever you wish, m'lady.” Sabé says, secretly hoping Padmé will side with her and deny Rex. But of course, she doesn’t.

“It would be helpful to have another person come along.” Padmé says instead, “Just hurry.”

Sabé gives a soft bow before turning on her heel and racing out of the room, the sound of clanking armor following her the whole way.

The Naboo garage was filled with glimmering starships and speeders. Sabé’s personal speeder was not counted among them.

“I’m driving,” Sabé says as she turns on the machine. “You can sit behind me.”

“Right.” He clearly didn’t like handing off leadership, but it seemed he was wise enough to take the metaphorical and literal backseat when he had to. The engine of her speeder roars to life as Sabé settles in the front with Rex quickly following suit.

“You’ll be able to see better than me if you use your scanner to try and spot him,” Sabé yells over the engine.

Her hair was wiping wildly now, flying loose from her hood and into her eyeline. What she would give for a hairpin.

“He’s probably klicks away by now.” Rex says, and Sabé hears the mechanical clinking of his rangefinder shifting into place as he scans the city.

“That’s why I asked you to use your bucket, genius.” Sabé says before pulling into the busy skylanes.

Sabé didn’t like Coruscant. It was too busy, with too many people and too much pollution. And the Underworld was the worst part. Between the smell of burning fuel, the rattling metal and the horrid smell of endless garbage disposals, everything about it made her skin crawl.

But whatever Padmé asked, Sabé would follow through.

“You seem to know your way around.” Rex says.

“I make it my business to know.” She replies. Just because Padmé wanted Anakin’s clone to tag around did not mean Sabé had to like it.

“Right.”

They fall into the motion of the city. With the wind tugging her hair loose and ringing in her ears, Sabé almost misses Rex’s shout.

“I found him! There!” He points over to her left. The reporter in question is six lanes over, blue jacket whipping wildly in the wind. Camera strap around his neck.

“Hang on!” She yells, before pulling a completely illegal six lane change.

Pulling up as close as she can, Sabé tries to settle herself even with the reporter, bikes side by side.

“Pull over and give me that camera!” Sabé yells, and the reporter turns to her with a wild look.

“On whose authority?” The reporter yells back.

“The Grand Army of the Republic.” Rex doesn’t yell, but the speakers in his helmet amplify his voice enough to be heard over. Sabé wasn’t exactly sure they were officially acting on behalf of the GAR, but it seemed to scare the reporter enough to give him pause.

“You’re in possession of private property!”

“I’m in possession of the story of the century!”

“Like hell you are!” Sabé screams.

He was drifting dangerously close now, his bike almost brushing hers. Normally, the auto navigation system would prevent them from getting this close to another vehicle, but Sabé had rewired it months ago in favor of more subtle routes.

He’s still yelling at her about “stories of the age” and “secret affairs” as she reaches out with her right hand and tries to grab his camera. He pulls back, but he could only move so much with both hands on the handle.

Almost-

And suddenly Sabé’s right hand slips off the steering.

And everything moves in slow motion.

Sabé’s bike tilts left, falling straight into the reporter’s. There’s a crunch from her bike, and the engine spits fire and sparks. The speeders are locked together now, her pedals caught in his.

The reporter has this terrified look on his face, and Sabé seizes that split second and rips the camera off the chain around his neck.

And then her bike falls.

And she falls.

And Rex falls right after her.

In the back of her mind, Sabé vaguely hears Rex yelling something along the lines of, “not again” but all she was really processing, was that she was falling to her death.

But instead of dying, Sabé finds her fall cut short as she crashes into a large speeder hood.

The group inside gasps in horror, and reaching as fast as she can, Sabé tries to grasp at the driver's hand, or the windshield or anything, but within an instant, she slips right off. Her sleeve catches on the side of the vehicle and tears in half as she falls again.

And lands directly onto another speeder.

This one is smaller, and buckles under her weight. Dripping off the skylane. The driver lets out a scream, and shakes her bike.

“I won’t be robbed by some crazy lunatic!” She cries.

“I’m not trying to rob you!” Sabé yells over the commotion.

“Liar!” The driver screams, and keeps shaking her bike. Sabé’s grip slips, and she can feel herself falling.

“Stop, stop! I just want to get down!” She manages. But the driver won’t hear it, and gives the bike one hard shake.

And Sabé is falling again, but the fall is quick, as she lands straight into a dumpster.

Despite the gross cushioning, Sabé hits the bottom of the bin with a sick crack, and instantly knows she won’t be sleeping on her left side for a while.

Ow.

Against the will of her body, Sabé pushes herself up and stands. She had to find that reporter, and she had to get out of that terrible, terrible smell.

Climbing over the edge of the bin shouldn’t have been hard, normally Sabé could have scaled a wall in seconds. But her vision was slightly blurred, and not being able to use her left shoulder was a hindrance. Standing on trash bags, Sabé boosts herself over the edge and stumbles out and onto the alley floor.

Her dress is in shambles. The left sleeve had ripped clean off, as had her hood. The once perfect ombré is now stained with mysterious green and brown liquid from the dumpster. Not to mention the pieces of trash that got stuck to the velvet.

Sabé knows her hair is flying free now and dreads the thought of her reflection. If her grease stained and scratched hands are any indication, she isn’t pretty.

Rex is laying on the ground a few feet away, trying to push himself off his stomach. His pauldron has a crack down the middle and several small pieces of his armor are missing. And so is his helmet.

Rex has a thin cut across his face, spanning from his left eyebrow to his chin.

He looks.

Really young.

Younger than she had expected.

It was probably foolish of her to assume he was older than her, Sabé knew most clones were only around ten, with accelerated growth. But she had always assumed he would look like her father or something. All grey and set lines. But Rex appeared no older than Sabé herself. Sure he had a giant cut across his face right now, but she could see past that.

He looks like a kid. Well, teenager. Well. He looked her age. But still. Young.

Too young.

Sabé supposes to most people he would seem handsome. Maybe in a boyish way, that would make the school girls on Naboo giggle, but to Sabé he just looks like-

Like a boy, covered in dirt, who really didn’t want to be here.

“Did you see where the reporter fell?” Sabé asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks, and she can feel an invisible weight sitting on her lungs. Her left rib is definitely cracked.

“No.” He groans. Without his helmet, Rex’s voice was drastically different. “But he can’t have gotten far.”

Sabé studies around them, Rex was right, the reporter couldn’t have fallen that much farther than they had, their bikes were practically locked together-

There.

Crawling off a trash heap, the reporter looks just as stunned as Sabé feels. Although she hoped she was holding it together better.

“Stop!” She shouts.

Sabé groans, and despite her aching limbs, she runs after him. He’s not fast, but in her current condition, neither is she.

Stumbling loosely, Sabé runs until they’re side by side. She doesn’t have enough energy to even yell at this point, so instead she reaches out for the camera and almost-

Suddenly Sabé feels a sharp tug on her hem, and she’s janked backwards, stumbling into Rex. He yelps, and they both tumble onto the pavement.

“I had him!” Sabé says sharply, pushing Rex aside. Red flames tug at her vision.

She just wants to go home. This was stupid, and she had better things to do. And why would Padmé make her run around with some knockoff Anakin-

“I’m sorry.” Rex says. “I guess I’m not quite used to your fighting techniques. I should have been paying closer attention.”

“Oh.”

Maker, she was an idiot.

Rex isn’t Anakin, and this wasn’t his fault. She is a spy and he is a soldier. And while she was playing lone wolf, he was trying to offer support, and she had ignored him.

Maker.

“No I-“ Sabé pauses, and looks at him. “That was my fault.” She can’t find any other words, and mercifully, Rex seems to accept her half apology and changes the subject.

“Fighting General Grievous was easier than this.” He mumbles under his breath.

“You’ve fought General Grievous?” Sabé says.

“Yeah, and it hurt less.”

They both pause. They had crossed a bridge. Both of them serve as the right hands of the ridiculous people they love but can’t see past the end of their noses.

And they’re both exhausted.

He laughs then. It’s an overtired laugh interrupted by a harsh cough, but it’s a laugh. And it makes Sabé laugh too.

In the dim streetlights, Sabé lets herself breathe. And relax.

“This is ridiculous!” She says suddenly, muffled between coughing giggles. “We look ridiculous, and this mission is ridiculous and our friends are ridiculous.”

With a huffed laugh, Rex forces himself to stand, and offers Sabé his hand.

“Let’s get him this time.”

As it turns out, they don’t have to look far. Less than two klicks away, the reporter stands over a garbage can, vomiting. Camera held limply around his neck.

“Surrender your camera, or face the consequences.” Rex says, standing over the reporter as he hurls. He sounds so serious, Sabé tries not to laugh.

“Just take it.” The man mumbles. “Dear maker, just take the kriffing camera.” Reaching around his neck, the reporter unclips his camera and holds it out limply.

Sabé reaches forward and rips it from his hands, cradling it to her chest.

“Thank you for your service, citizen.” Rex finishes, nodding his head politely.

“Whatever.” The man mumbles, “Just leave me alone.”

“All this for a holo.” Rex says. He’s got a playful tone, despite his knee guard missing and all the pieces of trash in his hair.

But Sabé ignores his quip, and wanders to a more secluded part of the alley. She scrolls through the memory files, passing moments and memories and gossip and-

There.

They look ridiculous. Sabé thinks, but she knows that’s not true.

They look happy. Even through the lens, their warmth is captured.

Padmé’s warmth.

The way she looks at Anakin is so warm.

So loving.

Sabé lingers for a moment, holding the camera gently between her hands. Staring.

“My hands are yours.”

Then with all the power she can manage, Sabé throws the camera down and smashes it against the pavement.

Sparks fly and bits of metal shatter this way and that, kicking up dirt and muck. The flickering metal almost looks poetic.

Almost.

Rex is silent for a moment, staring at the unceremonial end, and Sabé can’t seem to find her voice.

Something in her chest ached. It’s probably a displaced rib, Sabé reasons, but she knows that isn’t really it.

Thankfully, Rex seems to know how to defuse uncomfortable situations.

“We should call someone to pick us up.” He huffs, gaze pointed at the endless levels above them. “I’m not walking back.” Sabé almost laughs.

“Can we eat first?” She asks instead, trying to swallow the strange tears caught in her throat, and rolling her aching shoulder.

“Yeah I could eat.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nope.” He says with a grin, offering her his arm like they were leaving a charity ball and not crawling out of a dumpster.

That makes Sabé laugh. But she links her arm into his anyway and punches him in the shoulder, ignoring the way he winces.

“Fine. We’ll just charge Senator Amidala’s card.”

“You have access to the Senators bank?”

“Sometimes I AM the senator Rex.”

“Right. Sometimes I forget that.”

Sabé laughs.

“That’s the whole point, dummy.”

The diner they find looks almost as disgusting as they do.

Filled with flickering lights, unkempt floors, and more than a few blaster marks, the establishment doesn’t even react when a beaten up clone trooper and a crazy girl in half a dress show up and ask for a table.

The corner booth smells a bit like garbage, but Sabé reasons she also smells like garbage, so in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal. At least she could eat.

“Their wedding kinda sucked.” Sabé says, voice slightly muffled in between bites of her sandwich.

“I’ve never been to a wedding.” Rex responds, taking another bite of his cushnip. He had a weird taste for someone whose main diet consisted of ration bars.

“They suck. Never let your best friend talk you into attending one.”

“Noted.”

“It was just me, and two droids.” Sabé swallows, “Have you ever had to make conversation with two droids at a secret wedding?”

“I’ve had to make conversation with undead Genioshians.” He tries, pointing his fork at her.

“That’s not the same.”

It’s silent for a moment, Rex still pointing at her, and then they both burst into laughter.

Uncontrollable, over tired laughter. Sabé only stops when her arching chest can’t take it anymore.

“Why are you blonde?” She interrupts suddenly. “I thought all clones were Jango Fett, well, clones.”

“What?” He breathes, coughing at the end, and staring at her in disbelief. “I help you chase a reporter 30 levels, and all you want to ask is ‘why are you blonde?’ That’s the best you can do?”

Sabé tries to laugh again, but her chest hurts so much she stops herself.

“Do I really look that awful?” Rex reaches up and pulls another piece of trash from his blacks.

“Yes.” Sabé says with a smile, “You look ridiculous without your bucket.”

Rex rolls his eyes, pointing at her again.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

Something catches his eye, and Rex glances out the diner window.

“There’s our ride.”

Outside, a Republic landspeeder settles into the parking lot recklessly. There’s an ARC trooper in the driver's seat, white armor painted the same blue as Rex. A member of his battalion no doubt.

Quickly rising, Sabé settles the bill, and follows Rex towards the trooper.

She wants to get out of this hole as quickly as possible. And shower. Twice.

“What happened to you?” The ARC trooper asks, and Sabé can’t tell if his tone is genuine concern or teasing.

Or perhaps both.

“Not now.” Rex mumbles, as he brushes past the trooper and practically falls into the back seat of the landspeeder.

“Hi.” The trooper turns to her now, and even through the helmet's voice altering, Sabé can hear his tone dripping with charisma. She gives a half laugh, but it sounds more like a wheeze.

“Hi.” She responds, “I’m Sabé.”

“I’m Fives.” He replies, “Hang out in the underworld often?”

“Can it, Trooper.” Rex yells from the landspeeder. His head is leaned against the seat, and his brow is furrowed, as if this happens all the time. “Just get us back to base.”

“Yes Captain.” Fives says with a loose salute, but he nods at Sabé, and she swears he winks under his helmet.

Carefully maneuvering around her bruises, Sabé settles into the backseat beside Rex.

“You know.” Sabé starts, “If I’m going to be a third wheel more often, I wouldn’t mind serving with you Captain.”

“It’s been an honor Sabé,” Rex says, and then pauses, “but in all honesty I could never do this again and be just fine.”

Sabés cracked rib hurts too much to laugh.

Found a thing I wrote a while back with the concept of Cody taking Waxer's spot on umbara...... should I post it on here 👀

Hmm how about speechless and Rex??

Speechless: Rex can't speak because of a sore throat.

“You’re definitely sick,” Kix remarked.

Rex glared at Kix. Really? He was sick? He had no idea, other than his crusty eyes and sniffly nose and the open sores at the back of his throat that felt like tiny daggers when he swallowed, nevermind spoke.

“I’d like to keep you in the medbay, for the next day or two. At least until you can speak again.” Rex crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He knew Kix; he would never phrase it optionally unless it was optional. So Rex would be breaking no regulations by walking out of the medby right now.

Which he fully intended on doing, as he got up and headed for the door.

“Captain!” Kix caught him by the arm. “You can barely swallow, which means eating and  drinking, both of which you need to do to get well, are going to be problematic. If you stay here, and rest, I can get you an IV and you’ll get better faster.”

Rex shook his head. As always, there was too much to be done. Better to work at partial efficiency for a while than zero percent efficiency. At least to make Kix feel better (and not because he was desperately thirsty) he took the cup of ice chips Kix had brought out earlier. The cold would be good for his throat.

*****

Kix watched with a scowl as Rex walked out. How was Rex even going to communicate with anyone?

Right, Rex did know some hand signs from his arc training. But the only people who could translate for him were other ARC’s…

Kix chuckled. The things he did to keep his patients in the medbay.

*****

Rex looked for Echo or Fives to help him “talk” to others. Try as he might, he couldn’t find Echo anywhere, but Fives was in the barracks, chatting with Hardcase about detonator yield.

Fives, with me he signed to the ARC.

Fives tilted his head. “Tooka got your tongue, Captain?”

Rex could almost swear he was hiding a smile. How many people knew he was sick already?

Rex motioned again, and walked back out.

Fives kicked Hardcase in farewell. “See yah later, ‘Case. Maybe we can go beyond theoretical and test some of your theories out.” Hardcase drummed on his legs in excitement.

*****

Those munitions storage, those food storage, Rex signed. A large shipment of new supplies had just come in, and needed to be inventoried and put away. Rex put himself in charge of directions, with Fives standing by.

Fives nodded. “Alright, those need to go to munitions, and those go to the food stores,” Fives said- switching the supplies.

Rex shook his head, and repeated himself.

“Ah, sorry Captain. Men, those go to munitions, and those go to food.”

More daggers in his throat as he swallowed some ice. Rex must have made a face, because Fives knocked his own vambrace against his. “You good there Captain?”

Rex nodded and shoved more ice in his mouth.

Thirty cases of the next bunch.

Fives turned to those offloading. “Woah men, too many! We need three, not thirty.”

Rex smacked Fives. Thirty, he signed again, making each motion sharp with his annoyance. Fives did learn ARC signals, right?

“Right right, thirty it is. Sorry brothers.”

Those are for the Commander.

“Bring these to General Skywalker’s room.”

Rex checked the registry and paled, before wildly waving his hands. He did not want to explain how a box full of female sanitation products ended up with the General.

T-A-N-O, he signed, letter by letter.

Fives laughed. “Oh, the Commander? Why didn’t you say so?”

Rex glared at Fives, before marching off to find Echo.

*****

Rex searched everywhere, but couldn’t find Echo. He even commed the Domino, but Echo was unusually silent.

Finally, Rex realized there was one place he hadn’t checked yet.

Echo was indeed in the medbay, helping Kix prep an empty bed with an IV drip and a cup of ice chips.

“Captain!” Kix said, all to cheerful. “Glad you could make it.”

You. Rex pointed at Kix. You did this.

“I don’t think the Captain’s too happy,” Echo remarked innocently. “He thinks you did something.”

“What? Captain, I never would do such a thing as telling Fives to forget his ARC signs for a day, and telling Echo to come here so he can help me prep your bed. Now, I suggest you take off your armor if you want to recover a semblance of comfort.”

Rex scowled at Kix, then accepted defeat by sitting on the bed and slowly stripping off his armor.

Once he was solely in his blacks, Kix pulled Rex’s sleeve up and stuck an IV in the crook of his elbow. “There. Hydration, nutrition, and even a small dose of painkillers because I’m so nice.”

Rex sighed, and gave Kix a thumbs up before sinking into the pillows.

Before Echo could leave, Rex gave him a couple signs, and Echo laughed.

“What did he say,” Kix said, curious.

“Oh I couldn’t repeat it. But the gist of it is, Fives better run when Rex is better.”

For the clone hc thing uhhhh because of the blue shadow virus, Rex's immune system had been compromised leading to him getting sick easier then other clones, but he hates to admit it when it happens so he tries to power through the sickness. It falls to torrent (mostly Kix) to bully him into resting when this happens XD

Protocol 57: Get The Captain To Rest

Summary: Rex’s immune system has never been the same since the Blue Shadow virus. Cue Torrent company holding an intervention.

Pairing: None

Tags: sick rex, caring brothers, torrent company being the best vod, rex is very loved, but also stubborn when he gets sick

Word Count: 922

A/N: This was fun to write! Mando’a translations at the end. Headcanon submitted as part of this post.

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

Rex gave a disgruntled sniffle as he walked down the halls of the Resolute, shivering lightly even under his full armour. In one hand he held a datapad and a stack of flimsi reports, in the other, a handful of tissues.

Ever since he contracted the Blue Shadow virus the previous year, Rex found he fell sick more often than most of his brothers, and that it hit him harder when he did. But, he was a soldier. He was the Captain of the 501st Legion and he had work to do. He wasn’t about to let a little sickness get in his way. They were at war, for Force sake!

Unfortunately, his vod’ikas had other plans.

----

Jesse was first to spot their ori’vod looking, well, for lack of a better word, osik. If it hadn’t been for the puffy eyes and coughing, the stumbling would have given him away. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist comm, tapping through to Five’s private comm link.

“Fives, we’ve got a protocol 57, spread the word.”

“Damn it, again?”

Fives responded almost immediately with a chuckle, and Jesse could hear shuffling on the other end, then a few beeps and Echo joined them. Before long, the rest of Torrent company was on the comm.

Fives chuckled as he and Echo made a quiet escape from the training room,

“Right, let's have a clean sweep this time, eh vod?”

Dogma laughed,

“Don’t worry, we got this. 34th times a charm, right?”

Tup elbowed him, and Fives continued.

“Echo and I are on point, we’ll run interference at the armoury and push him up to the bridge. Hardcase, you find him and get him to us.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

----

Rex was idly rubbing his temples as he headed for the mess hall, too engrossed in his datapad to notice Hardcase approaching him at first. Engrossed may be the wrong word, when really he was just trying to make the words stop moving.

“Captain…” Hardcase jogged to catch up with him. “Sir, are you alright?”

Rex snapped out of it, turning to face the trooper. He cleared his throat, balling his tissues in his palm.

“Hardcase, I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“You're headed for the mess and lunch finished an hour ago.” He nodded to the empty mess hall, beginning to guide him away and down the brightly lit hallway. “Are you sure you’re alright? Echo was looking for you to oversee an inventory in the armoury but I can help him if you’d like. I think Kix is still down in medical if-”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Hardcase.”

The man just shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “I have the next training session, I’ll walk with you to the armoury, Sir.”

Rex loved all his vod, really, he did. But he did not have the energy for Hardcase right now. Still, he powered through, nodding his head.

Hardcase did. not. stop. talking. and gesturing energetically the entire time. He saluted the Captain as he stopped outside the armour, where Fives and Echo were conveniently just leaving, standing to attention.

He gave them a wink and left them in the company of their now exhausted Captain.

Rex waved his hand to put the arc troopers at ease, nodding inside the inventory and coughing.

“You needed me to do an inventory?”

Echo shook his head, “It’s alright Sir, Fives assisted me.”

“Are you alright, Captain? We can handle the bridge report this evening, why don’t you turn in early? You must be exhausted-” Fives tried, maybe they’d get lucky.

“I’m quite alright, boys.” Rex said suspiciously. “Why do you all keep asking if I’m alr-”

Rex cut himself off with a rather large sneeze, followed by a coughing fit. Fives grinned, giving Echo a look behind his ori’vod’s back.

“I think Tup was looking for your Sir, you might want to catch him on your way to the bridge, it seemed important.”

Rex suppressed his complaints and rubbed his temple, nodding. “Thanks vod.”

He set off again, and Echo was straight on his comm.

“Dogma, he’s all yours.”

----

On his way to find Tup on the bridge, Rex caught Dogma sprinting at the other side of the hallways, a stack of flimsi in his hand. Rex wasn’t in the mood for this, groaning and rubbing his temples.

“Dogma, what did I say about run-”

“Sorry Sir, I wa- wooooah-”

Dogma skidded to a halt in an attempt to salute his Captain and ‘tripped’, landing on the cold durasteel floor and clutching his ankle.

Rex kneeled beside him, shaking his head with a sigh. “Dank farrik, not again. Come on, let’s get you to Kix.”

Dogma let Rex help him up and limped all the way to the medical bay where Jesse was standing with Kix, grinning.

Kix just rolled his eyes and shooed Dogma away, who promptly stood on his perfectly uninjured feet and joined Jesse at the door.

“What the-”

Kix pointed to the nearest cot. “On the cot, Sir, you look like bantha shit.”

Rex opened his mouth to protest, and was hit with a fit of coughing. Scowling, he resigned himself to his fate and climbed up onto the cot. He shot a look at Jesse and Dogma, standing smugly in the doorway wearing matching smirks.

“Di’kuts.”

Jesse and Dogma just grinned as Hardcase, Fives, Echo and Tup’s heads appeared one by one, sticking around the doorframe.

“We love you too, ori’vod.”

---

Vod’ikas - little brothers

Ori’vod - big brother

Osik - shit

Di’kuts - idiots

Vod - brother

Dank farrick - fuck

Yaypril Day 18 - AU, and more specifically wing fic!AU with Rex and the commanders batch 

Usually, Rex isn’t the worst when it comes to sitting still and being patient. But today, he can’t help but be fidgety, as his feathers are being painted in the colors of his new battalion. Not because he can’t wait to see the result, although that is also true, but mostly because the process itches, way more than he thought it would.

“Stop wriggling so much!”

That’s easy for Fox to say. He’s not the one who’s had to keep his wings spread for the past half-hour. Despite his best efforts to stay still, Rex squirms as he feels the dyeing brush his brother is using drag along one of his primaries.

“I can’t help it! It tickles!”

He’s tried to stay still and not complain, he really has, but he sure didn’t expect the experience to be that challenging. Getting their naturally pristine white feathers colored is an important tradition to all vode, just like painting their helmets and armors. As the eldest of their batch, it’s Fox’s role to help Rex with it, just like he has done for the rest of their siblings.

His ori’vod has helped him draw the jaig eyes he’s chosen for himself so it’ll fit on his wings, and Rex feels extremely grateful for all the time and patience he’s put into this already. The last thing he want is to sound whiny.

“If you move too much, it might alter the final design, and I’m sure you don’t want that. Don’t worry, it won’t last for much longer, since you asked for something sensible, and not a whole damn wolf’s face.”

At that, Fox sends an accusing look at Wolffe over Rex’s shoulders. Their whole batch is here, gathered for the special occasion. Bly, Cody and Ponds snicker at the comment, and Wolffe immediately stands up, puffing up his feathers in annoyance.

“Fuck you, my wings look awesome!”

To prove his point, he spreads them wide, putting the symbol of the 104th on display.

“Obviously, since it’s my work. However, having my wrist aching for a week after I finished it wasn’t so great.”

Rex chuckles as his siblings keep bickering, staying still now that he’s distracted. He barely registers the pull on his feathers anymore, and is almost surprised when Fox announces that he’s done, only to realize his older brother provoked the whole commotion on purpose to give him something to focus on.

He might have to wait a little to let the dye sit on before rinsing it off, but even without seeing the final result, Rex can say he’ll love it already, all because of the care Fox put into accompanying him through this.

Okay, so my one-shot might not be a one-shot anymore

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

The first time Obi-Wan Kenobi sees CT-7567, he's balanced on Commander Wolffe's hip like he belongs there, the cadet pointing to a holographic map and giving intel about certain sections of Tipoca City. It was still alarming to hear the voice of a soldier come from the body of a child, and this one was screaming loss hurt anger into the Force that made his heart ache. Wolffe is relaying such intel to his troopers down on Kamino, and it takes a moment to register the Jedi had joined them with his ever-present shadow behind him.

"General, Cody." He nods, and the cadet looks up in curiosity. Kenobi could feel Cody suddenly radiate an innate need to protect this child, and knows things are about to become interesting. "The kih'vod has been helping us with some of the last strongholds."

"Very well, please continue...?"

"CT-7567." The cadet responds, and Kenobi wonders what name he'll be given one day. Cody, who usually stuck to his Jedi's side like glue, instead moved to stand beside Wolffe, who hands the cadet over without a moment's hesitation. In turn, Cody adjusts so 7567 is on his hip now, and the cadet is eyeing his golden armor with a dozen awed questions. The older clone just gives him a soft look, and 7567 turns to keep explaining the weaknesses that could be accessed, as gathering up Lama Su and his remaining doctors was critical for a complete takeover. He apparently had been good at sneaking around with his batchmates, and true to fashion, Lama Su is dismayed to find his secure bunker was quite the opposite. The cheers of thousands of clones rise up when he's secured, and Kamino was theirs, theirs to do with what they wanted, what they should have been able to.

Make it a home, rather than a place to suffer and be stifled.

7567 has no more tears to shed, watching through footage as Lama Su and the others were placed in cells for interrogation. He rests his head on Cody's shoulder, and the commander just murmurs something in Mando'a before adjusting his hold. Kenobi excuses himself so he can return to the city, leaving Wolffe and Cody with the young clone, and for a moment they stare at each other.

"Gree and Ponds are already on their way, I told them to meet us in your quarters," Cody speaks first, and Wolffe grumbles. "It's either that, or fight your wolf pack for the kid, like I don't feel them staring at me."

"Wolf pack?" 7567 asks, and Wolffe puffs out his chest, and some of the clones working on the bridge let out a few whoops.

"It's what we all call ourselves here." Wolffe grinned, and 7567 giggled a bit at how proud they all were. Cody just rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. There's a beep on Wolffe's comm, and he groans after reading the message.

"Kriffing Neyo heard about it, and he's coming with Monnk. Just how many commanders did you let in on this?" Cody had the decency to look sheepish, and the datapad in his hand becomes a shield.

"Well, I told Fox first..."

"No you didn't." It was no wonder some of the harder-to-reach CC's were poking their heads in. "You do know Neyo is an adenn chakaar when it comes to kih'vod's right? Fox needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut."

"Right, you tell that to the man in the worst position." Cody scoffed, and it was not long before the two devolved into a bitching fest, with 7567 watching with wide eyes.

He was learning so many curse words.

"Is THIS the one I've heard so much chatter about!?" Commander Bly had the subtly of a raging bantha, and there was some laughter from various clones as he practically force jumps his way across the bridge. "Let me see let me see!" 7567 doesn't get a chance to say anything when he's scooped up from Cody's hold, gripping onto armored arms as he's spun around with an excited gasp. His voice has the twinge of some accent 7567 has never heard before, and he finds he enjoys it almost immediately. "He's a blonde!"

"Careful, you'll fling him through a wall if you're not careful," Wolffe grumbled, but chuckles when the cadet grins at the new CC.

"I'm keeping him, it's official," Bly stated quite proudly, before grunting when someone slaps his helmet from behind.

"You don't get to decide this early." 7567 noted the CC who had smacked the now spluttering commander holding him was decked out in green, and recognized that he serves under a Jedi he had seen about a year prior on a rare stop on Kamino.

"Fox would rip you a new one if you did that before he got to see the kih'vod for himself." The one in green berates Bly, and the accented clone grumbles before setting the cadet down for the first time in hours.

"Is the Fox you keep mentioning the Coruscant Guard commander?" He feels a little awkward asking, but the various CC's nod in answer, and 7567 grins. "I've heard he's really cool."

"Fox? Cool? In what universe?" Bly cackles, removing his helmet to grin at the cadet, and his fellow leaders do the same. Despite each of them sharing the same face, 7567 can already pick out differences in each of their faces, and it reminds him of his batchmates.

No, he's not going to cry in front of all of them, not right now.

"He serves the Chancellor, and according to some...data we found, he gets to see all the Senators all the time!" 7567 is beaming as he rambles off what he knows, and every CC is suddenly transported to the times they were younger and a little more carefree before the war sunk its claws into them. 7567 doesn't see the way they look at each other, and what Wolffe saw in him was made solid for all of them.

"Sorry I'm late, someone wasn't in their barracks like the comm said."

Not a single soul on The Triumphant had ever seen so many commanders in one place before, and work was abandoned to watch one of the rarer clones grace their presence. Not many of them got to see one of the men hand-trained by Jango Fett himself, so comms are beeping all across the ship as those on the bridge recorded what they could, as well as sending said news out to the nearby other cruisers.

"Sorry Ponds, Bly here decided to ignore that, and here we are." Gree greeted, the two knocking their forearms against each other before Ponds looks down at the small clone, whose wide eyes are looking up at the recon expert.

"Blonde?" Ponds knelt down so the two were eye to eye, removing his helmet and setting it on the floor by his knee. "Lama Su hates blondes."

7567 didn't realize just how wide his eyes could go.

"I forgot you were blonde, the shiny dome makes one forget," Cody smirks, and there are more than a few snickers, including one from 7567. The commander just shrugs, and seems to just analyze the younger clone in front of him for a moment, before giving a small smile.

"You're going to have the most annoying adoptive ori'vod this side of the known universe." It's a statement more than an observation, and Ponds was never wrong. "I have spoken."

"Sir, Commander Fox sent word he'll arrive within a rotation, and to quote, "not let the others steal the kih'vod, or he'll have all caff allotments pulled'." A communications clone reported to the group, and he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Not fair!" Bly complained, and the various commanders start bickering and laughing at each other all at once. 7567 is picked up by Ponds when he stands to join the fray, and for the first time since he had left that horrible room, it's like his batchmates are the ones bickering and laughing with him.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep, face buried into Ponds' chest plating like it's the most comfortable pillow in the world.

"I think he'll fit in just fine." Gree hummed, standing beside his friend as they watch the others bicker.

"He'll have to, we're not letting him go."

Hello :) Missing my siblings so I wrote this :)

It’s sorta a continuation of this, which is a modern AU where Alpha is the oldest. @plainshobbit all of this is your fault <3

*

Alpha had agreed to babysit for the morning so mom and dad could catch up on sleep. He didn’t have work, his only class was in the afternoon, and for once he was caught up on homework. So while their parents slept in and the other boys left for school, Alpha got Cody his breakfast and Rex a bottle. 

There was one couch in the living room where you could sit and see inside the kitchen, so Alpha settled there with Rex and the bottle and kept half an eye on where Cody sat in dad’s chair with the armrests, smearing scrambled eggs across the kitchen table. Hopefully he got some inside his mouth. Alpha would have to remember to get him a snack later. 

Cody had good balance and Alpha had specifically put him in the only chair he couldn’t fall out of, so eventually he turned his attention from the kitchen to trying to get Rex to fall asleep with the power of warm milk. It was slow going. Rex was a weirdly alert baby. 

Alpha had been five when Fordo was born. He hadn’t been able to help at the time but he’d helped a lot in the ensuing years. He didn’t remember much from when Fordo was a baby, but he remembered everything from when Cody was a newborn, and Cody had been sleepy and serious and calm. 

Rex cried. A lot. If he wasn’t being held he was crying. Anyone who said babies didn’t have personalities didn’t spend much time around them. 

But Rex had also been up all night, and apparently warm milk was just as effective on fussy babies as happy ones, and eventually Rex fell asleep, his little scrunched up face going lax and milk dribbling out of his mouth. Alpha wiped it up and set the mostly empty bottle on the floor and adjusted Rex to be upright against his shoulder. He didn’t want to burp him while he was asleep, but if he did burp or something Alpha wanted to be prepared. 

Finally he breathed a long sigh and closed his eyes and let his head thunk against the back of the couch. He hadn’t been up all night, but he hadn’t gotten as much sleep as he should have, knowing he was going to be dealing with a toddler and a newborn in the morning. 

This was going to be a long day. 

After a few minutes he actually started to drift off so he didn’t notice the terrifying pitter patter of little feet until it was almost too late, jerking his head up just as something squishy slammed into his legs and catching Cody’s slimy hand right before it landed on his jeans. 

“No. You can’t touch, you have egg on you,” he said, very stern. 

Cody gave him a look that said as soon as Alpha let go of that hand he would also have egg on him. 

“Don’t test me, brat,” he muttered under his breath. 

Maintaining eye contact, Alpha released his grip and gently nudged Cody in the stomach with a socked foot. Cody scowled and took a few steps back. 

Leaning as far over as he could without dropping Rex, Alpha fumbled around in the diaper bag next to the couch and found a packet of wipes. Cody whined and wriggled as Alpha cleaned his face and hands, but suffered the indignity. Alpha would have to remember to clean the kitchen before their parents woke up. 

When he was clean Cody again threw himself against Alpha’s legs, waving one fist in the air in Rex’s general direction. 

“Wha’ ith?”

“What is it?” Alpha translated. “It’s baby Rex.”

“Baby Reth?”

“Baby Rex.” Alpha shifted the baby, regarding Cody with a raised eyebrow. “You want to hold him?”

“Ho’l da baby?” 

“Hold the baby, that’s right. Come sit.”

Cody pulled himself up onto the couch, grunting with exertion and heaving a sigh as he flopped next to Alpha. 

He’d held Rex once already, in the hospital when they’d all gone to visit mom, propped up next to her in the bed and with dad’s arms supporting his own. But that had been a whole four days ago and he likely didn’t remember. 

Alpha hesitated, and then carefully set Rex on the cushion on his other side and reached over to pull Cody into his lap. Cody kicked his legs, giggling as he settled. 

“Hold still. You have to hold still.”

“Ho’d still?”

“That’s right. Hold still. Now, put your arms like this.”

Alpha tugged at Cody’s arms until they were curved with enough room to cradle a baby.

“Dis?”

“This. Right. Good.”

Alpha leaned over, making sure he didn’t dislodge Cody, and picked up Rex. Ever so carefully he maneuvered the baby into Cody’s hold, keeping his own arms wrapped around both of them so as to keep the whole squirmy mess of small child contained. 

Cody made a little sound of excited wonder when Rex settled in his arms, miraculously still asleep. Alpha smiled, resting his chin on top of Cody’s head. They were both so very small. 

“Sleepin!”

“Yes, the baby’s sleeping.” 

Cody pulled a hand free– Alpha adjusted his own hold to compensate– and patted Rex forcefully on the head. 

Alpha sucked in a breath. “Gentle, Cody. You have to be gentle. See, like this.”

He maneuvered until he could free his own hand, and then took Cody’s and smoothed down Rex’s curls. “Gentle.” 

“Gent’o.” 

“That’s right. Good job.”

With Alpha’s help Cody sat still and stroked Rex’s hair for almost a full minute, before he got bored and wiggled to be released. Alpha lifted Rex up so Cody could squirm down out of his lap. 

Cody took off towards the stairs, thundering up with all the strength in his little legs. The older boys had started locking their doors as soon as Cody learned to walk, so he should be fine on his own up there for a bit. 

Alpha settled back against the couch once again, Rex a warm weight against his chest. His hair was very soft, and he had a lot of it– dark wispy curls on his head and dark soft fuzz on the back of his neck and shoulders. The blue blanket he’d been sort of swaddled in had come untucked with all the movement, though somehow Rex had remained asleep. Maybe the harder it was to get a baby to sleep the harder it was to wake them up. 

Alpha re-wrapped the blanket as best he could, pressed a kiss to the top of Rex’s head, and then grabbed his phone with the intention of doing some mindless scrolling while he waited for the sound of something breaking to echo down the stairs.

Seguir leyendo

The Truth Lies (In An Unmarked Grave)

On some days, Rex is certain the grief is going to kill him. There's only so much a person can take, and he reached that limit long ago-- reached it, then vaulted straight past it. Echo is alive, and that's fantastic, but... Fives isn't, and he's only the most recent on the long list of people Rex has failed to save. On some days, Rex is convinced that he's just walking wounded, that it's only a matter of time before his injuries catch up to him and put him in the ground.

That's... not what happens. Instead, Rex wakes up with Fives, and General Skywalker years in the past, back before Fives' death, before the Citadel, with their memories of the future intact. Instead, Rex finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place as he tries to save his family, with the constant threat of the Chancellor hanging over his shoulder.

(Ao3 Link)

Chapter 1

After working with The Bad Batch– after finding Echo and losing him again, after punching Crosshair and forcing himself to work with him anyway– Rex finds himself sitting on a log, staring at the bonfire in front of him.

The roaring fire illuminates the darkness of the night sky, and Rex can feel the heat from it on his face, warming up his knees. Despite that, his fingers feel cold around his beer bottle as he stares down the flames, a shade short of tipsy, not quite tipsy enough.

[[MORE]]

He feels… almost isolated, with the way the sky stretches out above him, vast and endless, twinkling stars bright against the darkness of the night. But he’s not alone– far from it, in fact– Jesse’s sitting on his right, and Kix is on Jesse’s right, and Ridge on Kix’s right, and Sterling on Ridge’s right, which brings him all around to being on Rex’s left.

They’re a lively bunch. It’s not quiet around the campfire– far from it, in fact. If Rex felt a little less detached, he knows he’d be right there with them, laughing and joking. But the events of the last few days, months, years, weigh on him, and it’s easier to let himself be mesmerized by the crackling flames than putting in the effort to be engrossed in conversation.

Jesse, however, is not one to be upstaged by a firepit. He leans forward, grins, waves his hand in front of Rex’s face. “Hey Cap,” he says, ignoring Kix’s facepalm. “How do you know if there’s a member of the Bad Batch at your party?”

Rex sighs, looks up at the sky. Prays for some sort of divine intervention.

No divine intervention arrives. Rex sighs, loudly. “How, Jesse?” he asks, half certain he already knows the answer.

“”They’ll tell you,” Jesse replies, and despite the fact that Rex had been expecting that exact answer, he still finds himself snorting at the accuracy of it. “Hey, how would the Bad Batch kill a space snake?”

Rex sighs again, louder this time. He definitely knows where this one is going. “How?”

“They make contact with it, ignore all Judicial Department directives and build a rapport with the snake, train it to kill other snakes, then return to Kamino to file a requisition of GAR resources form and take in the snake.”

Rex… shouldn’t ask. They’re all feeling weird after their last mission, every single Forcedamned clone is a raw nerve at the moment. He really shouldn’t ask.

Kriff it. He might as well ask. “Is the snake in this metaphor meant to be Echo?”

“Of course not sir, Echo was– is about as sneaky as a reg manual to the face.”

“Big words coming from you,” Kix chimes in, taking advantage of Jesse’s temporary distraction to steal his beer and finish it off.

“Kix, I’ll let you know that I’m an ARC trooper, actually,” Jesse defends. “I absolutely know how to be sneaky.”

“Well, since you’re a high and mighty ARC trooper, I guess that means that you’d just kill our metaphorical space snake by accident, and it would turn out that this metaphorical snake was sacred to the people there, and the natborns would then demand the removal of Republic forces from the planet.”

Rex chokes on his beer, coughs as Jesse sputters. Kriffing hell, someone decided to go for the throat today. “Oh, kark off,” is what Jesse eventually says in response, and Kix shrugs, looking all too smug with Jesse’s bottle in his hand.

After he finishes restoring the air to his lungs, Rex finds himself looking down at his hands, letting the conversation fade to a dull roar in the background. He looks down at his right hand, forms a fist with it, frowns. Unrolls his fingers one by one, flexes them once, then twice, then three times. The memory of punching Crosshair is all too present in his mind, as is the memory of liking it. Of wanting to do it again.

For all that he knows that he was made for killing, Rex has never thought of himself as an inherently violent person. But right now, there’s a part of him saying otherwise, a part of him that’s determinedly whispering what might even be the truth in the back of his mind.

He’s realized recently that he’s changing. And it’s because of the war, yes, but it’s also because of other things, and that… worries him. Scares him, almost, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Rex is a clone. He’s not made for change– the opposite, really. He’s been designed not to evolve past his programming.

But Crosshair had said that they should’ve left Echo behind, and Rex had seen red. For a second, all he’d been able to think about was Fives’ anguish at the Citadel, Fives’ grief in the aftermath, Fives’ rapidly cooling body in his arms, and–

Yeah, Rex had punched him. The shabuir had deserved it– deserved worse, an insidious voice inside him whispers.

(Rex at the beginning of the war never would’ve done that. Rex doesn’t know if his past self would even recognize the man he’s become now.)

Anyway, General Skywalker may not have liked that punch, but Kix and Jesse were on his side, and that was good enough for Rex. It had to be.

He glances down at his fist once more, sighs, and picks up his beer again, finishing it off. He probably should get started on those reports and finish filling out Echo’s transfer forms, so Rex opens his mouth to excuse himself when General Skywalker comes out of his tent, holding something strange and triangular, something that’s glowing red, and suddenly–

The world tips sideways.

Dimly, Rex hears alarmed shouts of his own name, feels the beer bottle slip from his hands, but all he can focus on is the nauseating roil of his own stomach, and the way that General Skywalker seems to have lost his balance too, and is clinging to a tree for support. Rex blinks, tries to focus, tries to marshal his thoughts into something coherent, then–

Nothing.