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Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations, 21BBY

Rex was standing in the hangar bay with the sheer exhaustion of war hanging from his very bones. His men were filing out of the shuttles they’d taken down from the massive cruiser that hung in high atmo with a fair amount of its outer hull peeling off like an onion skin. But the repair droids were hard at work, he was sure, and the 501st was due for some R&R after chasing Grievous halfway around the galaxy. He was sure the Jedi were getting as tired of tailing the craven cyborg general as he was. 

He’d counted the losses. They’d been less terrible than he’d thought, but still more than he liked. Then again, the only number of KIAs he ever liked to see was zero, and, well. That would have meant no fighting had happened at all. He tucked his datapad away, taking a deep breath as he pulled his bucket off his head and tucked it under his arm. 

If he’d been the type to pray, he would’ve said a prayer at that moment for the longest run of R&R days he’d ever had. But he expected no more than a few at most, at this point. His body would continue, but his spirit was a little burnt out. 

Skywalker was approaching him from the shuttle, the last of the troopers having made their way out. The Jedi should’ve been as weary as he was; he’d been losing sleep over their quarry for some time now. But he looked alert, even charged with frustration— no. It was anger. Anger at how many men Grievous had cost him. Anger at how it was the least satisfying goal of his entire career to chase an enemy who had no qualms with simply running away. It might’ve been his ego getting bruised a bit, too, and Rex wouldn’t blame him. It wasn’t very Jedi-like, but the best thing about General Skywalker was that he seemed more like a person who understood other people than one of the distant, inscrutable monks. 

“The siege of Ryloth continues,” Skywalker said, “And Geonosis.” Yes, he was definitely energized, Rex thought. The clone captain tucked his own exhaustion away, for the moment.

“Are they asking us to redeploy soon, sir?” 

“Not yet,” Skywalker replied. “Better get your rest and relaxation in quick, though.”

“Relaxation? I’ll be happy with just the rest part, myself.” 

“Get as much of it as you can. I know this is wearing the men down.”

“Morale does seem a bit low, sir. But I’ll do what I can.” 

“I know you will, Rex,” Skywalker said, finally throwing that sad little soldier’s smile they all knew so well at the captain and clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“Anakin!” came a voice from behind a vocoder from several yards down the bay. The Jedi furrowed his brow as five troopers in matte gray armor sporting red paint detailing started in his direction. As they drew closer, Rex saw that it was commando armor, and they all bore a red teardrop shape on their chest plates amid the other decorations. He also saw that one of them was unusually tall, for a clone, and another one unusually short, and bearing a sergeant's pauldron.

“Yes, trooper?” Skywalker asked, unsure if they were the ones who’d spoken to him. The voice hadn’t sounded very much like a clone’s, but nobody else in the crowded hanger was paying any attention.

When the short one removed her helmet, though, the voice made sense. Beneath the bucket was a young woman with very dark tan skin, golden eyes, and a shock of white hair falling out of its bun. Even her brows and lashes were white, which was a little startling. What was more startling was that she was obviously not a clone, despite wearing commando armor. It was also startling that she was beautiful, but Rex wasn’t even processing that part yet. 

“Did you miss me?” she asked, grinning slightly crooked at the General. 

“Sol!” Realization had dawned on Skywalker, apparently, and he returned her smile in kind. “Force, I wondered if I’d ever see you around here again. How are you?” 

“Not bad. Let me introduce you to my squad!” she said, turning to gesture at them. As if on cue, the clones behind her doffed their buckets, too. “This is Stone, Swift, Twofer, and Grip.”

“Hello, troopers,” Skywalker said with a nod. “It’s good to see your faces. So, a commando unit, huh? And you’re Sergeant, I see.”

“Well, the Jedi wanted me to be commander of the 707th, but these guys bullied me into it,” she replied, and her grin became more charming by the minute. The larger clone, Stone, who had long hair tied up into a bun and a faint scar running across his clean-shaven face, smiled and nudged her in the back playfully. Swift, who was bald with a shadow of scruff on his chin and a tattoo of tiny wings on his cheek, rolled his striking blue eyes. Twofer, sporting cuts in his eyebrow, and Grip, who looked the most clean-cut of the lot, just looked at each other and grinned. “We’re Cronos Squad.”

“You’re Cronos Squad?” Skywalker asked, face lighting up with surprise and excitement. “The squad that sabotaged the seismic driver on Dantooine? And took down the Quarran base on Mon Cala? And arguably ended the fighting on Atraken that started a kriffing year ago?” Rex was surprised too, blinking as Anakin named their feats one by one. Oh yes, he’d heard of Cronos Squad. They were right up there with Alpha Squad and the Muunilist 10.

“I will say, it’s not that arguable. We definitely ended things on Atraken,” Grip said matter-of-factly. “And it was long overdue. Our poor vode down there had it rough.” 

“Yanno, I thought General Windu’s showdown on Dantooine would’ve gotten more press than us,” Twofer said, glancing over at Swift, who shrugged. 

“Oh, it got plenty, but the clones seemed more impressed with you lot,” Skywalker said. “Speaking of which, where are my manners? This is Captain Rex of the 501st Legion,” he added, turning towards the clone in question to clap his hand on his shoulder again. “He’s my right hand man. And my left hand man, too, to be honest.” 

“You don’t have a bad rep yourself, Captain,” Swift said. “I hear the 501st is the place to be.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Rex said a little limply, his eyes flickering between Swift, Skywalker, and Sol. He was oddly nervous. “We certainly do our best.”

“Rex here won’t brag about anything unless it’s to the shinies,” Skywalker chimed in mischievously. “He says bragging inspires them, and annoys everybody else.”

“Is he wrong, though, sir?” Grip asked, his smile good-natured. By now Rex was keenly aware that Sol’s eyes had made a run up and down his figure, lingering on his helmet. 

“Captain Rex,” she began, “may I ask you how you acquired your jaig eyes? That is a rare honor.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Rex stammered, feeling his cheeks start to warm. “They were granted to me by a Mandalorian sergeant on Kamino after the Battle of Thrule.” 

“For an exceptional act of courage, I’m sure.” Her face had gone oddly soft, all of a sudden. “My mother was given jaig eyes, before I was born.”

“Now Sol,” Stone murmured, “we can’t tell the Captain your whole life story right now, or he’ll never make it to the barracks.”

“Um, well when it’s story time, count me in,” Skywalker said, looking with feigned indignation at her. “You never told me anything about your past, Sol.”

“Well, you were always so busy,” she replied rather impishly. 

“Excuses, excuses,” Skywalker tutted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the command center before Master Obi-Wan kills me. But I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.” And just like that, his very own general had abandoned Rex to his sudden and inexplicable awkwardness in front of a famous commando squad. Worse, one of them was a pretty girl. 

“Actually, Sarge, we should head up to see General Windu,” Swift said, leaning over towards Sol. “He’s expecting us.”

“That’s too bad,” she replied, still smiling at Rex. “Maybe we can all meet in the mess sometime. After all, you have a year’s worth of stories, Captain. We only have about two months.” 

“Well, I’m—”

“Or we could play bolo-ball, if we get the time,” Twofer suggested, raising his cut brow. Clearly, he’d heard of the 501st’s reputation regarding the one major recreation activity favored by almost every clone.

“Aye, that’ll work too,” Rex said with a relieved sigh of a laugh. He took some reassurance from the insertion of an activity he felt very comfortable with. Not all commandos were this amiable to their non-commando brothers. “My boys are on R&R for a bit. You’re welcome to come down and find us, if you happen to get a break, too.” 

“Count on it, Captain,” Swift said, throwing him a lazy salute. Cronos Squad was also famous, it turned out, for being lax on that sort of protocol. Normally Rex would’ve bristled at that a bit, but this time, he didn’t. The men turned; Sol lingered for a moment. 

“It was nice to meet you, alor’ad,” she said, giving him a nod that reminded him very much of the Mandalorian who’d bestowed on him his jaig eyes. “That just means captain,” she added. 

“Believe it or not, I know that one,” Rex replied with a smile. “But you could just call me Rex, if you wanted to.”

“Rex,” she said, as though she were testing the name out. “Ret'urcye mhi, Rex.” 

And then she turned, trotting to catch up to her squad, one of whom immediately punched her playfully in the shoulder. She pushed him back, then skipped ahead to avoid his rebuttal. Rex watched them vanish through a pair of doors into the complex.

Then, he realized his heart was beating doubletime. He thought he must be ridiculously tired, to have a brief social encounter like that put him in such a tizzy. Immediately he turned on his heel towards the transit tunnel that would take him to the barracks, a ‘fresher with a nice hot shower, and a bed he could collapse onto. He hoped his eyes were shut before he even landed on the mattress.

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Valiant, en route to Makem Te

There were barracks inside of any ship that was designed to travel troops, but rarely were there so many commando units all in one space. It was stuffy in the room Sol sat in, having retreated to the top bunk with Swift and Grip while Stone and Twofer sat below. High command had crowded the cruiser almost past the upper limit of its load-bearing capacity, and three more just as packed trailed behind it in the endless slipstream of hyperspace. 

To cut the tension, and keep his twitchy hands occupied, Swift had started tossing a rubber ball around the unit between the bunks. 

“How big d’ya think this sucker really is?” asked Ponds from his perch on another bunk. 

“It must be massive, to be sending a whole legion to planetfall, plus five commando units,” replied Fordo as he caught the ball leveled at him by Swift, eyes flitting around the room to spot the next recipient. 

“At what point does it just become a waste of resources to build a tank that large, anyway?” Grip asked. “I mean, if you think about it, you might as well be building ships for orbital bombardment.” 

Fordo’s toss to Split was easygoing, but Split was already eyeing the room eagerly. “The Seppies got more money than sense,” he said, sending the ball hard across the room to Darman. 

“Yeah, well, it’s still gonna mean a lot of dead men either way,” Ponds murmured darkly. Darman tossed the ball up to his teammate Niner, who promptly shot it at Stone. 

“Maybe that’s the point,” Swift said. “Maybe they knew we’d have to send this many troops and this much cannon to take it out, and the whole job is to deplete our numbers.” Stone’s throw took the ball to Marcher with astonishing strength; then again, he was the biggest person in the room. 

“Don’t like the sound of that,” Marcher muttered, casting about.

“Neither do any of us, vod,” Fordo replied, shaking his head. “But that’s still a lot of resources to sink into just taking a bite out of us.” 

“I wonder if winning one battle means it’s paid for itself,” Ponds said rather dryly. Marcher, having selected his quarry, sent the ball whizzing over to Crash. But Crash already knew exactly where he wanted it to go next; without taking a breath and with impressive force, he shot the ball directly at Sol. 

She caught it in her gloved hands without blinking. “It’s a shame then, they’ll be upside down on the thing when they lose," she said.

A murmur of agreement went around the room, complete with chuckles and nods. Crash seemed pleased with his little test of the non-clone’s reflexes, folding his arms across his chest. 

“That’s what I like to hear, Sergeant,” came a voice from the exit. The men all sat up pin straight, since they couldn’t stand much of anywhere, as Anakin stood in the doorway. Sol looked down at him with the ball still in her hands, and they matched one another’s grins. “At ease, men. You’ll be debriefed by General Kenobi in a while. Cronos Squad, you’re with me.” 

As she slid off the top bunk with a light thud of plastoid boots, Sol chucked the ball back at Ponds. 

“Hey, don’t forget, you owe me an arm wrestle,” the commando reminded her as he caught the ball. “You promised.”

“Don’t die, and I’ll catch you after this fight. Deal?” she replied.

“Deal.”

Stone handed Sol her helmet, and the rest of the squad filed out behind her and the Jedi general. They followed him up towards the starboard bridge, a little blue and white astromech joining them along the way. It gave a curious whistle.

“Yes, this is them, Artoo,” Anakin said to it. “Where’s Ahsoka?” 

The droid beeped. She’d be right along, it said. 

“She better be.” They entered the bridge, making for the command hub which at that moment projected a huge blue-light map of a city full of tall, domed buildings. Sol recognized Rex standing beside it, brow furrowed as he studied the map intently, and Admiral Yularen in his crisp navy uniform. 

“Ah, good,” the Admiral said as five grey-and-red suits of armor settled in around the table. “Cronos Squad, always a pleasure.” 

“Admiral,” Sol replied, nodding. Then her eyes landed on Rex, and she smiled. “Captain Rex,” she added. 

“I see you didn’t get much R&R either,” Rex said, standing up a little straighter. 

“Don’t try to fool us, Rex. You wouldn’t miss this fight for anything,” Anakin said. “And neither would you guys, I’m sure.” He looked back at the commandos as he drew up to the desk. “We have plans to tackle the Behemoth itself once we make planetfall. There’s no easy way to get there-- we can’t sneak up on this thing.” 

“They know we’re coming?” Sol asked.

“We don’t know. But they’ve been threatening to attack Thousand Thousand for a few days now. Somebody in the city managed to get past their jamming to get us a message with a partial plan of the Behemoth. None of that knowledge is going to make this fight any easier, nor make insertion any less risky for the squads. We’ll be coming at it from outside the city, which means from out in the open. But we’ve saved a particular mission for you, and for my team as well. You’ll start on the front lines, coming in by air.”

“Aw, sir,” groaned Swift. “You know commandos hate that.” 

“Let me finish!” Anakin grinned. “You’ll be on the front lines because it’s your job to get to the control room of that tank while a legion and the other commandos keep it very preoccupied. Word is a Geonosian built it, so if he’s on board, he’s marked for retrieval if possible. Either way, the end goal is to neutralize the tank from within.”

“He’s right, that’s much better,” Twofer said, his eternally mischievous smirk curling across his face. “Got schematics for us, General?”

“Of course. Rex, if you’ll oblige me.” The Captain tapped a few buttons and the holo proceeded to zoom away from the city down onto a weird, bumpy shape. As the details settled in, they realized it was a land tank that looked to be the size of a five-story building. 

“Osi’kyr,” muttered Sol. “Wait’ll the boys in the back get a load of this thing.” 

“Yeah, the legion makes more sense now,” Swift added. “And the Juggernauts.”

“We brought in an AV-7 or two, as well,” Rex said. The commandos all looked at one another, grinning. “Seemed prudent, and all.” 

“Hopefully we won’t have to use it,” Admiral Yularen said. “Or if we do, you lot had better have cleared out by then.” 

“You want us to shut it down from the inside?” Sol asked, looking between her COs. 

“Ideally, yes. It’s gonna be a good old-fashioned battlefield down there, at least from the outside. But if you can sabotage that thing, it’ll end a lot quicker and a lot less bloody.” Anakin’s expression lost its impishness, falling instead to a particular sternness that said I want to save as many of these men as I can. Sol nodded, eyes locking with his before dancing back around the schematic. It was half conjecture, she could tell; one side was mirrored to show the likely setup of the other side, but important data was missing all over it. 

“Far as we can tell, the control room’s likely up here,” Rex began, raising a gloved hand to point at a little peak that jutted out of the front nose of the thing. “There’s two of these, so we don’t know if they’re both used to drive it or if it’s just one. Obviously we’ll be learning as we go on this one.”

“That’s one thing we’re good at,” Sol told him with a little smirk. “You said you have a team coming with us?” 

“Yes. My men are gonna help you get there and hopefully get as far up it as you can. It’s two of my best, ARC troopers.” Rex’s pride was clear on his face. “They’ll take you in two groups up either side of the Behemoth, and if you need extraction they have orders to see to that as well.”

“This must be the other kind of ARCs,” Twofer said. Rex’s brow furrowed. 

“We’re the last of the Alpha-class ARCs,” Stone explained. “I heard they were giving the same designation to a new group of extra-trained regs, and the new commandos are RCs.” 

“Wish they’d make up their minds,” Grip murmured. Sol rolled her eyes. 

“Boys, focus. Thank you, Captain, for the extra support. What kind of firepower do we have?” 

“Whatever kind you can fit on your backs,” Anakin said. “Plus whatever you brought with you. The Behemoth’s triple-plated in durasteel, though, so you’re better off blowing it up from the inside.”

“So getting to it— and up it— is the real trick, huh?” 

“Unless you spot a secret first-floor entry hatch, yes,” Rex said. “Even still, getting to it might take a lot of plowing through droids.”

“Well, we’ve got a legion to help with that,” Twofer chuckled. 

“You can pour over the details later,” Anakin said. “In the meantime, Rex, if you’ll let these fine folks get suited up for our date with the Separatists, I need to go find my padawan. Apparently she’s gone missing. What happened to ‘she’ll be along,’ Artoo?” He glared down at his astromech, who only scooted back with an indignant beep. 

“Padawan, huh? I can’t wait to meet the kid who’s getting molded by you,” Sol said, her face brightening.

“You’re the first person who’s seemed to be just as excited as they were making fun of me,” the Jedi replied dryly. “I was planning on introducing you to her, but I guess it’ll have to wait.” 

“Follow me,” Rex said, walking around the table and canting his head. “I’ll show you what’s in the armory.” Twofer sighed dreamily as the group made its way off the bridge; this was his favorite part of any mission.

“Nice to see you again, Rex,” Sol said as she fell in beside him. “And in an armory, too.”

“You really know how to woo a commando, Captain,” Swift said from behind. “Starting off with the nice toys.”

Rex laughed, albeit a little awkwardly. “Well, who among us doesn’t love a well-stocked gun closet?” 

“Anything fun in the way of ordnance, sir?” Twofer asked. 

“Oh, a couple things you might like.” 

“Careful, you keep talking like that and he might propose,” Sol said with a giggle.

Rex’s smile couldn't be wiped from his face at that point if he tried. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said with a little grin. A chorus of ooooooohs from her team turned Sol’s giggle into an outright laugh. When they reached the armory, she let the rest of the squad barrel in and start looking through all the shiny things first. 

“You sure you don’t wanna lay claim to anything, Sergeant?” Rex asked her from the other side of the open doorway where they stood, watching Twofer count everything in the room that could explode to see how much he could fit in his backpack. “These boys look hungry.” 

“Oh, they know what to leave for me,” she assured him. “And you can call me Sol, when the CO’s aren’t around.” 

“Sol,” he replied, an imitation of her response to the same suggestion. “So you’ve got a long story, huh?” 

“She won’t tell you none of it, Captain, not yet anyway. She’s barely told us all of it,” Grip said from where he was eyeing the cable guns and claw attachments for his greaves and boots. 

“No?” Rex asked, raising his eyebrows as he gave her an almost pitiful look. “You know we clones love a good story about being a civvie.” 

“Don’t know that I’d say I have any stories about that,” Sol replied quietly. Rex watched her face, curious.

“He just means about bein’ anybody but a clone, Sarge,” Swift said to her. “Also, look what Stone found.” Her eyes followed his pointing hand to see Stone holding a miniature missile launcher and grinning. 

“Your favorite,” the big guy said. “And, they’ve got a bowcaster.” 

“A Wookiee bowcaster? With rounds?”

“Yep.” Suddenly Sol was darting over to the side of the armory where such a prize was promised, picking it up with wide, golden eyes.

“Uh oh, I think we’ve found her new favorite,” Twofer chuckled.

“This had better be up for grabs,” she said, glancing at Rex. “Otherwise, I’d hate to see the face of the poor di’kut who left it lying around when he sees it on my back.” 

Rex laughed. “If it’s in here, it’s available. Though, I think Fives might be upset you got to it first. Not sure he even knows how to shoot it, but that’s never stopped him before. I don’t suppose you brought anything interesting with you?” 

“We always have something interesting, Cap,” Twofer said, hefting his now laden backpack onto his back. “But we don’t go tellin’ everybody like that sucker from Alpha Squad who shows off that Geonosian stick every chance he gets.” 

“Alright, Stone, if you’ll take the launcher, I’ll take the bowcaster,” Sol said, looking up at the big clone with a gleam in her eye. 

“No Z6?” 

“You can take a Z6 too, if you want. You think I need a Z6 when I got this thing?” She hefted the bowcaster up against her armor. “Or have you never seen one in action?” 

When her squad was silent, Rex shrugged. “I never have either. This showed up recently from a commando who was on Kashyyyk, and you’re the first to take him up on his generous donation.” 

Sol’s smile spread a mile wide. “Oh, you boys are in for a real treat.” 

Chapter Text

Makem Te, outside Thousand Thousand

The veritable fleet of LAAT/i made their way through the air, gliding low over the empty dunes. The ironclad city that was their objective was a mere glimmer on the horizon. It was morning, the sun was rising to cast the already rusty sand an even deeper orange in its bleary glow. Behind them, five of the massive A7 Juggernauts rolled along apparently unperturbed by the sand. Rex thought it was oddly beautiful, and a true example of the notion of the calm before the storm if there ever was one.

“I’m not so sure about coming at them wide open like this,” came Ahsoka’s voice over the commlink. “I know they might not be expecting us, but is this really better than landing closer? We’re giving them an awful lot of time to prepare.” 

“We didn’t know what we’d be landing on top of, exactly,” Skywalker pointed out. “Now we’re back to the old rules of engagement. Which are pretty straightforward.” 

“Commander, to be fair, they’ll be falling back heavily on that metal monster of theirs,” Rex added. “The Seps have a habit of that.” 

“Don’t worry, Ahsoka. This’ll be a walk in the… uh… desert. And I know deserts.” Skywalker was as unfazed as ever. 

“Your confidence is admirable, Anakin,” Kenobi interjected from closer to the front, “and you may be right. But the council advised caution, and when dealing with a new breed of land tank— especially one of this magnitude— I think that’s a terribly sound suggestion.”

“Well, this is the first time you’ve ever suggested that a slow approach might not be the most cautious one, Master,” Skywalker replied cheerfully. “Anyway, just wait for the signal to fire, Snips. Then we’ll see how it goes.”

“I hate slow approaches, myself,” Fives said from where he leaned against the wall of the shuttle. “Unless you need the time to plan, it just lets you get antsy.” 

“Could get hyped up instead,” Twofer suggested, checking his backpack for the fifteenth time. “You know, excited. Jump around a bit.” 

“Not everybody gets excited about the same things you do, vod,” Stone said, one hand resting on the missile launcher strapped to his chest. 

“Say, how’d you end up so tall, brother?” Fives asked, looking up at Stone. Clones tended to vary in height, anywhere from 5’7” to 6’. But this guy had to be at least 6’5”, Rex reckoned. 

“They left him in his growth tank a bit too long. There must’ve been a fire drill, or something,” Swift said, patting the big clone’s arm. Stone just shrugged, like it might as well have been true for all he knew. Fives kept on with his banter, but at that moment Rex couldn’t help but notice Sol’s distant look as she hung from her stability grip next to him, bowcaster in her other hand. Her hair was shaven on either side, the white stubble just beginning to peek out; the rest of its length was twisted up into a bun pinned close to her scalp. The wind from their flight and the open hatches had blown a few wisps of it out, one of which was dangling in front of her golden eyes. 

“You alright there, Sarge?” he asked. He’d seen that kind of look before, on Skywalker more than anyone else, but sometimes on his brothers’ faces, too. She blinked once or twice before refocusing to meet his gaze. 

“It’s been awhile since I was on a true desert planet. Not many pleasant memories.” She glanced back out, watching behind instead of ahead. “Which is a pity, because deserts are so beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Rex agreed vaguely, slightly mesmerized by the strange color of her eyes as the rising sun caught in them. Something about her deep golden pupils set in their bright yellow irises was just alien enough, he thought, to be slightly uncanny. Now they almost glowed, banishing the night chill with as much authority as the sun’s heat.

“Say, Captain,” said Echo, who was on the other side of the shuttle and already fully kitted for landing in his rather anxious way. He stuck his booted foot out to nudge Rex’s delicately. “Did you ever find out if we hand any land speeders for this run?” 

“Er, no,” Rex murmured, shaken from his thoughts. “Sorry, Echo. No land speeders. We’ll be taking the larty close as we can, then it’s all on foot.” 

“Right, sir,” the ARC trooper nodded, tapping his thigh with his hand in a habitual pattern. Cronos Squad had seemed pleased enough to meet his boys, Rex thought. More ways they weren’t as stuck on themselves as some other commandos. He had a feeling that was Sol’s doing, being that she was an outsider herself. He leaned a little to peer out the open hatch towards Thousand Thousand, which was looming much closer, and saw a semi-orderly array of dots in the sand outside the perimeter.

“That looks an awful lot like…”

“Spider droids,” Anakin confirmed, lowering his electrobinoculars. “At least two hundred of them. They’re firing on the city.” Sure enough, plumes of smoke curled up from where their plasma cannons struck the iron buildings. 

“They’re not making much headway,” Grip said, squinting. “The iron alloy’s resistant to plasma fire. If they bombard it enough, they might eat a hole in it eventually.” 

“Where’s our infamous Behemoth?” Kenobi asked, stroking his beard. 

Just as he spoke, of course, they got close enough to spot it. At first it had almost blended in with the buildings over the city’s defensive wall behind. But once he spotted it, Rex knew with a pang that they had their work cut out for them. 

“Jango’s bones!” Echo said from behind his helmet’s vocoder, the zoom attachment lowered over his visor. “General, it’s got to be fifteen stories high at least!” 

For a moment, the entire shuttle was silent but for the whistle of the breeze and the distant thunder of cannon fire. Then, Twofer snorted. “Good thing we didn’t bring any really big guns.” 

A laugh rippled around the shuttle. Something about that moment when your guts fell out from under you, when your acute mortality rang in your ears, always brought out the black humor of a soldier. Even Kenobi graced them with a wry grin. 

“Does this change our plans, Rex? Because if I don’t tell Cody now, he’ll give me hell the rest of the trip,” the Jedi asked. 

“Not at all, sir. We can fire on the spiders as soon as we’re in range,” Rex replied. “It’s bigger than we thought, but everything else stands basically the same.”

“Might wanna get those really big guns of yours ready,” Fives said to the others, pulling his helmet on and his Z6 off its pegs on the wall. 

“Yeah, I hear spider droids are good target practice,” Twofer replied, his grin disappearing under his grey bucket with its red ‘2’ painted on the forehead. “Oh, and we’re on the 501st comm channel too, right?” 

“We wouldn’t leave you hanging,” Rex assured him, watching helmets pop on one by one, sliding on his own. Sol turned to face him again, trying to wink errant strands of long, white hair that had escaped from their pins away from her eye. 

“I deserve this for sticking my head out the hatch,” she muttered ruefully, moving around as if to displace the hairs, her helmet between her hands and the bowcaster now squeezed under her arm. “Just get out of my face,” she groaned. Rex chuckled and leaned forward to gently tug the hair behind her ear with the tip of his gloved finger. 

“Thanks,” she said with a slightly bashful smile, promptly donning her bucket. 

“You’re lucky you’re with me. Cody would’ve just told you to get a haircut.” 

“She wouldn’t listen,” Swift chimed in from behind. “We’ve tried.” 

“Why not?” Rex asked, curious. 

“Oh, I just wouldn’t look as pretty as you fellas do without any hair,” she replied, and he could hear the grin in her voice. “Now, watch this. I think you’re gonna like it.” 

Without ceremony, as the others were just about done gearing up, she turned towards their target. Leveling the bowcaster in both hands, there was a silent breath as the spider droids drew just barely close enough to be in range. 

Then the crack of energy was buffered by their helmets’ audio filters, and a sizzling blue bolt flew from the arch of the bowcaster and into the nearest droid with electric urgency. It jumped, shuddered, and started to wobble on its long legs as the shock fried its circuits. Its canon spun wildly to shoot at them, but Swift’s extremely clean rifle shot took out its eye. Rex stared, more than sufficiently impressed. Just as the droid thudded to the ground, another shot rang out from one of the other lartys, taking out another target. 

“Sorry, alor’ad,” Sol said to him. “I’m not used to waiting for orders. I’ll do that next time.” 

“By all means, fire at will,” Rex replied. “That goes for the lot of you. Take out all the clankers you can before we land!” 

For about five minutes, it was all fun and games drawing the droids’ attention away from the city. But by the time they were about-facing and taking potshots at the lartys, the two Jedi got serious. 

“The men are on the ground, so I’ll be joining them,” Skywalker said after his comm confirmed that landing had begun. 

“Oh, I’m right behind you,” Kenobi replied in his dry way. 

“Happy landing, Generals,” Rex said with a salute; and without blinking the two men plummeted out of the hatch down onto the sand. “Pilot!” he called up to the cockpit, “get us as close as you can to that big ugly tank!” 

“Yes, sir!” 

They drew close, the commandos and his ARCs taking out several of the spiders before a plasma beam aimed too close for comfort. Rex called the jump, and before he knew it he was tumbling through sand alongside the rest of the team. The LAAT/i took off, dodging and weaving to confuse the droids below. When a blast caught its starboard wing, Rex winced. But he thought he caught the figure of the pilot leaping out before the shuttle crashed into the dusty ground.

“Sir, we’re only half a klick from the target,” came Fives’ voice. “You could head back and meet the rest of the 501st in the middle.”

“If you’re sure, Fives.” 

“I’m sure. We’ve got this from here.” 

“You falling back by yourself?” Sol asked, quizzical. 

“I’m gathering data,” Rex replied. “Now go blow that kriffing thing up!” 

“Aye, Captain!” shouted Cronos Squad almost unison. He watched Grip, Stone, and Twofer take off with Echo in one direction, Swift and Sol and Fives in the other. The spider droids, which hadn’t been crowding the Behemoth before, had now turned their attention much more in his direction than he liked. He turned back to where he saw blue and white armor behind, and took out one droid’s eye just before darting forward into the fray. 

Chapter Text

Makem Te, outside Thousand Thousand

“There’s not a single kriffing hole in this thing!” Swift complained as he and Sol climbed the cable the ARC trooper had sent up the side of the Behemoth for them. 

“You might have to blow one in it,” Fives said as he hauled himself up behind them. “It’s a good thing we chucked those thermal detonators up in the exhausts.”

 If he’d had his own way, they would’ve just blown the thing there and then. But apparently the commandos were tasked with finding its engineer, if he was on board, which always made things more complicated. And ate away at their time, giving the more than doubled number of cannons on the thing more time to chew away at his brothers. Which he was trying not to think about. Overthinking only slowed things down more.

“Who pilots it, d’ya think?” Sol asked between breaths. “Droids?” 

“Probably,” Fives replied. “It’s still trying to spend half its shots on the city. A sentient thing would’ve changed tactics by now. What are they so dead-set on getting from the Swoke Swokes? Loyalty to the Seps?” 

“Probably,” said Echo through the comm.

“What kind of name for a species is Swoke Swoke?” grumbled Twofer from wherever he was on the other side of the monster. 

“It’s their name for themselves, verd,” Sol replied a little archly. Fives pondered for a moment, that all the commandos— hell, even the non-commando troopers called one another vod. It meant brother to them, although in Mando’a it could also mean sister, or friend. But their non-clone Sergeant always called the men the word for soldier. Coming from her, he could work out that it was a sign of respect. But it still stood out, distinctly different from the word they used for each other. 

“It’s still a goofy-sounding name,” Twofer retorted. 

“And Twofer isn’t?”

Cronos Squad laughed in his ears as Fives made it to the lip of metal his cable hook had caught on. The sound from the comm was getting more and more staticky.

“Hey, there’s a seam up there,” Echo said, and Fives instinctively looked up along the sheer metal wall of the tank even though his brother was on the opposite side. It turned out the tank was symmetrical, after all. “The two things we assumed were control rooms should be forward along this height.”

“Echo, I’m glad one of us spends too many hours looking at the holomaps,” Fives said. “You think the seam might be a weak spot? ‘Cuz there’s no getting up front from here, unless you have something that can puncture the metal.” 

“We have that!” Grip exclaimed, always excited about the delicate art of traversing. “They’re hooks in our greaves. And our boots are magnetized.” 

“Why don’t we get those?” Fives complained. 

“You wanna shoot the cable lines from here up ahead so we can tow along them towards the control rooms? Just in case something gets slippery?” Sol was asking him, he realized.

“Just hang back here and line-spot you? Yeah, that sounds good. Just wish we could come with,” he replied, a little let down that he would miss most of the action if there really was an engineer to be apprehended. 

“Listen, we’re just glad you helped get us here. Now hang onto the rest of that ordnance until we find you a nice safe place to drop it,” Swift said, giving him a thumbs up. Fives nodded, grinning despite himself, and shot the cable gun horizontally along the wall. The first shot bounced off the metal and dropped, hanging limply over the ledge.

“Awww,” he groaned, pressing the button that towed the line back in. His second shot failed to find purchase, too, and that just irritated him. Flipping on his binoculars, the ARC trooper scanned the structure ahead for a better place to hook a cable. 

“Fives, that lip right up ahead, off the middle bulk— you see it?” Echo was like a beacon in the darkness sometimes, he thought. Most of the time, even.

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” he replied with a renewed grin. “Third time’s a charm.” 

When that shot landed, relief blossomed in his chest. No more looking foolish in front of the commandos, he told himself. 

“Alright, let’s see who’s driving this thing,” Swift said, and he and Sol turned on their boots, grabbed his lifeline, and started walking. Fives tapped his helmet, blinking through the channels again. But everything was gritty, this close to the Behemoth. Since they’d come within ten meters of it, the only channel that worked was the incredibly low frequency that Cronos operated on, and even that was fuzzy. He’d thought he heard orders being barked through the other channels once or twice, but none of them had formed into a coherent sentence, or even an incoherent one. He swallowed nervously, and decided it was time to distract the others, and himself. 

“So, Sol, you single?” Fives asked when the other two were a safe distance away. 

“Isn’t everybody in the GAR single?” came Twofer’s voice over the comm. “On paper, anyway?”

“On paper maybe. In reality? Not by a long shot,” he replied, suppressing a chuckle. 

“Oh, you regs got on-leave sweeties, huh?” asked Swift. 

“You say that like you don’t.” Grip’s voice was familial, teasing his teammate. “You have pretty boys on three different planets already.”

“I’m married to you lot,” Swift replied. “We don’t get much in the way of leave. Can’t be seeing anybody else on a schedule, yanno?” 

“You’re dodging my question, Sarge” Fives reminded Sol, who had tacitly let her men swoop right in and answer instead. 

“Who wants to know?” she replied, and he was surprised at how terse she sounded.

“Uh, well, I guess I’m the one who asked…”

“Fives—”

“Echo, I’m not hitting on the Sarge, I promise. I’m just making conversation. Have I said any of my lines?” His brother’s silence was skeptical, he could tell even through an entire building’s worth of tank between them. Luckily, the commandos hadn’t turned around and started plonking back to murder him. So he figured his line of questioning wasn’t too offensive as of yet.

“Please use a line on Sarge. I’d pay good money to see how that turned out,” Twofer snickered. 

“I dunno, I mean, maybe the ARC trooper has a good reason for asking,” Swift said, and Fives knew a comrade when he heard one. 

“Yeah, maybe I’m just trying to get to know my fellow soldier,” he said. 

“Just like he knows his own troops,” Swift added. “You know, to look out for their wellbeing. To bond with them!”

“Yeah, just to be emotionally supportive!” 

“Exactly!”

“Wayii, now there’s two of you,” Sol groaned.

“You two should know what you’re getting into, picking on her,” Grip warned the boys in blue with a chuckle. “You haven’t survived something with us, so I can’t guarantee you clearance to tease.”

“Well, I guess we’re not near close enough to dead to—”

The searing blast from behind that cut off Fives’ sentence also came with a wind that struck him like it was made of a permacrete wall. His grip tightened reflexively around the cable gun he was holding, and then the entire world was spinning on the other side of his visor. 

“Fives!” shouted Sol, her voice pitching high with horror, and he realized he was plummeting towards the ground in a wide swing. Before he could shout or even think about it properly, he crashed into something solid, and everything went dark. 

-----

“It’s been too long. They should’ve stopped it by now. If we don’t fire, we risk a lot more men dying down here,” Skywalker said between strategic spins of his lightsaber amid the metallic racket of battle. 

“Give ‘em just a few minutes more, General,” Rex all but pleaded, glancing back up at the massive land tank for the millionth time between shooting at spider droids. Come on you two, he thought. He hadn’t made them ARCs for nothing. 

“Alright, but as soon as I decide it’s time, I’m giving the order. We’re taking heavier losses than we hoped.” 

Rex blinked furiously beneath his helmet, turning off his external speakers in favor of slipping into the 501st’s comm channel. 

“Cronos Squad, come in!” he barked, hearing the rising desperation in his own voice. “Fives! Echo! What’s your position?” 

The lack of response amid the distant, staticky shouts and screams of the other men grated against his frustration, but he knew he shouldn’t hang onto that unless it made him aim his blaster better. He spun around, shot another droid, hauled another soldier back onto his feet, shot again. The endless and automatic dance of combat, instinct after instinct. 

Then he heard it.

“—ex? Rex? Can you— r me—” 

“AV-7s, fire on that tank!” Skywalker gave the order almost at the same instant he heard the crackles of her voice calling his name over the comm noise. Time froze, and his heart nearly stopped beating as his whole body clenched around it in horror.

“Wait—!”

The beams of plasma pounded into the metal colossus that loomed beyond them; their impact shook the very ground beneath his boots. His hearing was muffled by his helmet as the blast resounded, and Rex turned to wave his arms wildly at Skywalker.

“They’re alive! Sir, they’re inside!”

As though the universe itself were chastising him for his vain hope that lives might be spared by his strained effort, another deafening explosion rang out behind him. He turned, and saw smoke billowing from the two little towers at the front of the machine, the exhausts, everywhere it could escape. The control rooms were gone, all fire and carbon in the high noon sun. 

His body kept moving, dodging droid fire and calling in the extraction team and vehemently blasting any piece of Separatist scrap that stood in his way, just like he always did. His spirit hung there in that moment, watching the explosion’s aftermath, just like it always did when his hope was shattered right in front of his face. It was a painful and familiar dissociation. 

Rex stayed on the battlefield until every last droid was weeping engine oil into the sand. Cody’s team had flown in with extra first aid, working hard to render as many men as possible hale enough for travel before they made their way back to the cruisers that hung in atmo like a watchful flock of birds. He heard and acknowledged Skywalker’s comm saying he was going to start searching the wreckage without realizing he’d done it. Now came the task that always left him feeling hollow; that of finding the wounded, and counting the dead. 

When Kix came up behind him, Rex didn’t say anything. 

“You alright, sir?” 

“Yeah, I don’t need a medic.” 

“That’s not why I asked.” Kix was good at dropping protocol when it came to urgent medical care, but his choice to do it when it came to the state of Rex’s head was agitating. 

“I need you to help me find Echo and Fives,” the Captain said, his voice sharp. “And anybody from Cronos Squad who might’ve made it out of that thing alive.” 

Kix paused for a moment. Just when he thought he might have to raise his voice to get the man moving, Rex saw what his medic was staring at. 

A hundred meters away, Sol’s gray-armored, helmetless figure was dragging another one, this one in white and blue. 

“Fives!” Kix hurried towards them, Rex on his heels. “Is he alive?”

“He’s breathing,” panted Sol as Kix signaled for a medical speeder over his wrist comm. Her face was bruised under one eye, and blood was running from her lip down her chin. More of it was caked in her white hair. “He-- he fell a long way.”

“Thank you,” Rex said, grasping for relief. But there were others missing still. Kix gingerly hauled his brother out of her arms as a gurney whirred up beside them. “Are you alright?” 

“I—” She winced, hand clutching her stomach. “I’m okay. Echo, Stone said he’s okay, they’re all— oritsir!— they’re in FA on the other side of—” 

“Hold on,” Kix said, turning his attention back to Sol. “You’re not bleeding, are you?” 

“Just up here, I think.” She gave a humorless smile and pointed to her head. “Has anyone found Swift yet?” As quick as it had come, the smile was gone, and her quiet, pained voice held everything in it that Rex had felt that day. 

“This is Captain Rex. How many members of Cronos Squad are accounted for?” he said into his commlink. 

“Sir, all but one. The Sergeant—”

“She’s okay, we’ve got her.” Sol’s eyes were on his, frozen in fierce anticipation as Kix checked the cut on her scalp. “Status?”

“All four wounded, two walking, two unconscious, sir.” 

When she closed her eyes, Rex finally took a breath. None of the soldiers he’d sent into their enemy’s very throat had died that day, at least. The ones on the field couldn’t be made up for, but there was small comfort in knowing he hadn’t broken up a squad.

“Tell them we’ve got Sergeant Tannor and are coming their way,” he said into his comm before turning it off. Sol was bent slightly over, Kix’s hand on her back, both of her hands on her midriff now. Rex wasn’t sure what to say, but he took a step closer to her and put a careful hand out on her shoulder pauldron. Finally she looked back up at him, clearly struggling to breathe. 

“Can someone help me find my kriffing helmet?” she asked, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Someone’ll find it. Let’s get you to FA.” But she was still holding herself strangely, and reaching under the chest plate of her armor with one of her little hands. Pushing into her solar plexus until he heard a slightly sickening sound between a thud and a crunch, she let out a massive exhale of relief. 

“Did you just reset your own rib?” Kix asked, clearly appalled. 

“Happens all the time,” Sol gasped. “Sure does feel a lot better now.” 

“Oh, you’re one of those,” the medic groaned. “Just like the Captain, here. I want you to head straight to medical on the Valiant. I’m scanning them, just to be sure.”

“I think the rib might be the least of my worries,” Sol said with a frail laugh. Her hand was still on her belly, Rex noticed.

“Take good care of her, Kix.” He said it before he thought about it.

“Oh, I will, sir.” One shoulder under her arm, Kix gave him a nod as the two of them started on their way to the nearest first aid position. Rex elected, for the time being, to ignore the tone he thought he heard in the trooper’s voice. His ears were still ringing from the relentless chain of events the past hour or so had turned into, and he had a job to do. His eyes found their way back out into the wreckage, looking for the little sensors that indicated life on his HUD.

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Valiant, en route to Coruscant

When the Captain of the 501st finally made his way into the med bay inside the cruiser, Kix whistled. 

“Always the last one in,” he chided Rex. “Any wounds you know about already?” 

“Just my collar bone. It’s at least cracked.”

“How’d you manage that one?” 

“I went dancing with a spider droid.” Their grins were familial as Rex began to unfasten his chest plate. Sol watched him with her eyes half shut on a nearby bed, feeling slightly nauseated from the flush of her guts. She’d been bleeding internally, it turned out, and Kix and Grip had teamed up to get the clotting solution where it was needed as quickly as possible. Now her teammate was standing beside her, watching her monitor output closely. 

“You’re stabilizing, Sarge,” Grip said after a moment. “You should be good to go in a few hours.”

“Thanks, verd.”

“You got a pretty scar in the bald part of your head, now. Bacta wasn’t quick enough to stop it.”

Sol shrugged. “S’alright. I plan to keep shaving it anyway. I’m sure I’ll fit in better now.” Grip just shook his head, still smiling. 

“You fit in just fine. Good as any of us do.”

“I appreciate that.” But she wasn’t so sure, and never really had been despite Cronos’ acceptance of her. Surrounded by the 501st and their curious stolen glances at her, she really wasn’t sure. 

“Why are you so worried about it all the sudden?” His eyebrow was raised, and when Grip got nosy the way Swift did, she knew the whole damn squad was talking about something when she wasn’t listening. She frowned at him.

“I’m just joking, Grip.” 

“You sure?

“Whatever you’re on about, you can drop it, yanno.”

“Drop what?” came Swift’s voice as he approached, left wrist wrapped in a stint with a bacta patch. 

“I wouldn’t harass her right now, vod. She’s cranky,” Grip said. 

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, verd?” she growled. They were used to her threatening to smack them around a bit at this point, and to be fair she had yet to follow through. She was awfully tempted this time, though. But Grip just rose from his seat and gave her a saccharine smile as he walked away, letting Swift take his place. 

“He says that like you’re not always cranky.”

“Strong start, Swift.” Her glare was just flat enough not to be truly threatening. It was a look she’d mastered in the past eight months. 

“Well…”

“I was internally bleeding!” She almost raised her arms to cross them in indignation, but the bacta hadn’t worked enough for that just yet. 

“Okay, fair enough.” He leaned closer to her, voice dropping. “You didn’t take your injection before the fight, did you?” 

Sol glanced away under a flush of guilt. “I… forgot.” 

“You forgot?” His frown was skeptical and worried at the same time. “You sure you weren’t just distracted?” 

“You could be helpful and remind me.”

“Maybe I will,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You can’t do that, Sol’ika. Your knees are bad enough already.” 

“I know.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, temporarily unable to really feel the persistent ache she knew so well thanks to the flood of painkillers. “How are the others?” she asked, tone softening. 

“They’re alright. Twofer’s out for a little while, his head took a hit, but his skull’s too thick for it to matter,” Swift replied with a wry expression. “He’s lucky none of those explosives in his bag went off.” 

“Jate. I just wish we’d found the bug who built that thing.”

“At least it’s scrap metal now,” came another voice. Sol turned her head to see Rex approaching, his top half completely naked and a sling holding his left arm so his shoulder didn’t have to while a fresh bacta patch soaked a swollen place on his clavicle. Sol’s cheeks got even warmer as she blinked.

“Hey there, Captain,” Swift said with suspicious cheer. “See you got your own trophy wound.”

“I’ll take a cracked collarbone over internal bleeding any day,” Rex replied, grinning softly at Sol. “How you doing?”

“Grip says I’m stabilizing,” she said. “How’re your men?” 

“They’ll make it, but Fives was in pretty bad shape. It’ll take him a little while to recover. What happened up there?” 

Swift leaned towards her. “Lemme go check on Twof,” he said, reaching over to rest his hand gently on the top of Sol’s head away from her fresh scar.

“Ret’, verd.” She offered him a wan smile as he turned away. Rex took his place on the seat, resting heavily and wincing a little as he tried not to move his arm. “We planted thermals inside the lower exhausts and bent them a bit,” Sol began, “but we had to climb the damn thing to see if we could figure out who was driving it. We were almost to the control rooms when the AV-7 fired.”

“Why didn’t you reply on the comm?” he asked, voice soft beneath his worried look.

“There was interference on every channel but Cronos’, and the farther apart we got, the more that one fell out, too. At first it seemed like a shitty jamming job, but I’m starting to think it was something in the metal or inside the tank somewhere that was chopping it up.” She shook her head. “All our HUDs were fuzzy, too, though if you squinted you could still make some of the data out. We never heard you.” 

Rex shut his eyes briefly, taking a slow breath. “Guessing the interference didn’t go far beyond the tank, or we would’ve noticed.” 

Sol nodded. “The shot knocked Fives off the ledge while he was spotting our lifeline. He hit one of the bulks on the tank, the ugly ones near the front. Jate'kara he didn’t fall right under the wheel and get crushed. Swift and I jumped, holding onto the line until we made it to him. I still don’t know what happened on the other side, but apparently Twofer took a knock to the head. Then the other blasts came...” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged. He knew the rest well enough.

“Lots of knocks to the head, this go ‘round,” he muttered. “Luckily some of the hardest heads in the GAR.” She found herself laughing, and realized he was laughing with her. That seemed to siphon off a little of her exhaustion.

“How are you, Rex?” she asked after a moment, regarding his weary expression.

“Oh, I’m fine. This’ll be good before we even get off the ship,” he replied, glancing down at his sling.

“No knock for your hard head, huh?” She smirked, remembering Kix’s grumbles about his captain’s persistent lack of self-care. 

“If there was, I already forgot about it.”

“That could be serious, Captain, short-term memory loss and all. Maybe a concussion.”

“If I had a credit for every time Kix told me I was ‘probably a little concussed and should get some rest,’ I could retire,” he laughed. His laugh was infectious, drawing another chuckle from her.

“Tell him not to worry about the resetting thing. Grip stopped fretting about my ribs a long time ago. We say if I haven’t dislocated a rib, we haven’t really gone on a mission.” Now they were both laughing again, and Sol no longer felt the queasiness in her belly. But by the time Rex quieted, his look was apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, Sol. I asked General Skywalker to hold off firing—”

“Kih'parjai,” she cut him off gently. “I understand. He was protecting his men. I would’ve done the same.” Her eyes wandered back the direction Swift had gone farther down the bay, wishing she could get up and speak to her squad, or at least see them breathing. She never quite believed they were all okay until she saw it for herself.

“I’m glad they made it out. I was worried I’d sent all of you to meet the Maker.” 

“It wouldn’t be your fault if we had. That’s what verde do.” It was easy to say that, of course. But even if the worst had happened, she could never lay the blame at Rex’s feet. She smiled at him, the same sad soldier’s smile that all the clones seemed to have.

“Doesn’t quite make it better, does it?” he asked. Sol thought of the first time she’d ever seen him, with his jaig-eyed helmet on, running drills on the plasturf at HQ while she watched from above. That was before she’d been sent to Kamino, when she’d told Commander Cody almost the same thing Rex was saying now. She shook her head, rubbing the medical blanket on her lap between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Not quite.” 

For just a moment, they only looked at one another with silent understanding. And something else, too, like they both wished they could continue the conversation. But she was tired, and no words came. 

“I should get outta your hair,” Rex said as he rose to his feet. 

“You gonna try and take it easy?” she asked.

“I’ll try if you will.” 

“Fair enough.” She gave him one last smile, leaning her head back more fully against the upright support of the medical cot. “Cuyir jahaala, Rex.” He paused, and she thought he might be trying to work out what that meant. “Be well,” she added obligingly. 

He found his smile then. “You’ll have me brushing up on my Mando’a.”

“I’m always available for practice.” That was the kind of joke that would’ve slipped past anyone but a clone trooper, seeing as their only real availability was for war. But, to the extent it was even feasible, she did mean it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rex chuckled as he turned to walk away. The top half of his armor and blacks were already waiting at a gurney that was by the exit. As he tucked them under his uninjured arm, he cast a last look her way. 

“Cuyir jahaala, Sol,” he said, and then he was gone with the doors of the medical center sliding shut behind him. Sol felt her heart kick up, a little lighter than it had been a moment before. 

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

It was high noon at the GAR barracks, and the sun’s light was sharp in the cool air. The plasturf under Swift’s bare feet was spongy and odd; then again, being barefoot at all was odd. But Sol went barefoot whenever she could find an excuse to, and it hadn’t taken the rest of Cronos Squad long to join in with her. Something about the soles of his feet touching the ground, even when the ground was the roof of a two thousand story building covered in plastic pseudo-grass, made him feel more present. More real. The soft off-duty fatigues they all wore let him feel the gentle breeze he never could through his armor. 

After taking down the Behemoth, every severely wounded trooper involved had been offered five days of R&R. More than they usually got, but there were some whose bodies had been so thoroughly battered by that battle that even the ever-vigilant Jedi had insisted on rest. It was day two, and already Swift had begun to feel the vibrating itch of his Sergeant to get back to work. 

Sol was sitting across the lawn, her eyes shut as she leaned back onto her palms to let the sun warm her face. Twofer was dribbling a bolo-ball, bouncing it from knee to shoulder to foot to head in a patternless flow. Grip and Stone were hovering around their teammate, looking for opportunities to steal the ball out from under him. It seemed ideal, the calm and sometimes even playful energy of brief, cherished R&R days. But Sol was uneasy, though he couldn’t quite tell about what. Sticking to the edge of the field, he made his way over to where she sat. 

“You charging in the sun, Sol’ika?” he asked with a smile, plopping down beside her with familiar ease. 

“Mm. I’ve had better suns, but this one does fine.” Her eyes were still shut, two lines of dense white lashes above her nose and mouth that curled slightly into a smile. Swift watched the smile slip away as quick as it came, curious. 

“You’re recovering from your internal wounds, right?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, I’m not even sore in my belly anymore.”

“I just wondered because you seemed like your heart wasn’t in it while we were playing, just now.” He watched her, waiting for the skeptical look of resistance he always met with when he expressed his concerns.

True to form, the eye nearest him fluttered open and gave him a quizzical look. “Twofer was getting pouty,” she said, as though that explained everything.

“Well yeah, but normally you put him in his place. I get the feeling you don’t like taking five days off,” he replied, cutting right through Sol’s persistent opacity to the point. She took a deep breath. 

“I’d like it more under other circumstances. But right now, I feel like I should be helping. We have so many active war zones.” She shook her head, white hair rippling from its high ponytail. “All General Windu’s squads are redeployed except us. The 212th and the 501st are both out. I feel useless.” 

“Recovery isn’t useless,” Swift said gently. “If you go out before you’re well enough to, what good would that be?” 

Finally she turned her head to look at him, rolling her eyes even as a smile touched the corner of her mouth. “You’re right,” she sighed. “Just… feels worse than usual.” 

“I understand.” He reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder, as though he could pin her to the ground and make her comfortable there. “We can always debrief again, talk about what happened on Makem Te?”

“What’s to talk about?” Twofer asked as he neared them, still dribbling the ball. “I think we managed what we could pretty well, given the circumstances.” 

“Those ARC troopers General Skywalker lent us were pretty helpful, too,” Grip added. “Gotta admit, I was a little worried about that.” 

“Why?” Sol asked, and though she was asking out of concern, Swift thought he detected just an inkling of defensiveness in her golden eyes. 

“It’s always just us, you know? Even if we get help, it’s not usually with the mission itself. It’s insertion or extraction, or they set something up. You know?” Grip ran his hand through his short, neat hair. “I didn’t really know if we’d get along with these guys. But it turned out pretty good.” 

“The other ARCs knew their jobs,” Twofer said as he balanced the ball on his head rather precariously. “They didn’t butt in on our jobs, or argue with our choice to set the detonators. We all did our parts. That’s bound to work out alright, most of the time.”

“Would you work with them again in the future?” Sol asked. 

“I certainly would,” Swift offered. There was a murmur of agreement among the other three, with Stone nodding his head easily. 

“Good to know. If you didn’t want to I’d have to be the one to tell Anakin, so I figured I’d check.” She smiled again, and leaned out to catch the ball as it finally toppled off of Twofer’s head. 

“So, you know General Skywalker from your time in the temple?” Grip asked, taking a seat on the plasturf to gaze curiously at her like it was the barracks on Kamino all over again. 

“Yes, he and I used to talk from time to time. I think I have more in common with him than most jetiise,” she replied, tossing the ball between her hands. “We weren’t close, but he was very kind to me from the first day I was there.” 

“The 501st speak very highly of him,” Stone said. “I can see why.” 

“Yeah,” Swift agreed, “he’s almost like a soldier. The other generals… well. They’re more like Jedi, I guess.” He leaned over to bat the ball out of Sol’s hands, causing her to squeak and then frown playfully at him. Twofer retrieved it, and came back to join them on the ground. When Stone followed suit, they started to just pass the ball around. Swift remembered Kamino, where they were sometimes made to toss a ball like this during a more academic lesson to build synergy between the squad members. 

“He’s certainly at home on the battlefield.” Sol was, as always, not quite getting into the details. Swift could feel it when something was under the surface that she wasn’t sure about bringing up. He knew the others felt it too, especially Stone. 

“He and his men rarely lose a battle,” Twofer pointed out. “I dunno how many ARCs he has, but those two weren’t the only ones. And Captain Rex, well.” He raised his eyebrows, blowing out air. “That man’s smart. He’s steady, too. Almost calmed me down up on that damn larty.” 

“I noticed you seemed less anxious to be in the air than usual, vod,” Grip said, clapping Twofer’s shoulder. “Maybe we should get reassigned to the 501st!” They laughed, but Swift’s eye was ever on his Sergeant and he saw her smile, carefully pointed at the ground. It was a particular sort of smile, almost embarrassed at its own happiness. 

“Yeah, there’s already at least one trooper who’s prepared to have a little fun, too,” Swift said, grinning a little. “That Fives fellow seemed easygoing enough.” 

“To you, maybe,” Sol said, nudging his foot with hers. 

“Just what Sarge needs, another person to antagonize her,” Twofer chuckled. 

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Swift said, hanging onto the ball as he caught it to try his hand at balancing it on his own head. “Besides, you all picked on me. ” 

“It’s what you get for enabling him,” Sol replied very sagely. 

“I liked him,” Grip interjected with a shrug. “Once he said he wasn’t hitting on you, at least.” 

Sol wasn’t smiling as much now. She sat forward a little, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I did appreciate his friend checking him on that.” 

“Did he make you uncomfortable, little’un?” Stone asked, his brow knitting as he looked at her from across their circle. She looked up at him and shook her head. 

“It wasn’t about him.” 

“What was it, then?” Swift asked, starting to worry a little that he’d joined in on a line of teasing that went too far somehow. 

“I mean…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. 

“You don’t gotta hide things from us, Sarge,” Twofer assured her.

“Yeah, we wanna know how you’re doing,” Grip added. 

When her gold eyes flitted around the circle to land on Swift, he leaned a little forward. “I didn’t mean to upset you out there, Sol’ika. If I said something wrong--”

“It wasn’t you, verd,” she said quickly, almost apologetically. “I’m just… it’s silly.” A chorus of boos followed this, from everyone but ever-quiet Stone. 

“It’s not silly, whatever it is,” Grip said firmly. Swift realized suddenly that the look on Sol’s face wasn’t hurt. It was embarrassment. 

“Have you never been asked about your dating life?” he asked, raising a brow. Her head sunk further into her knees. 

“I’m... a virgin,” she murmured. For a moment, the squad was silent, and then they started to chuckle, and then to actually laugh. Suddenly her face was visible again, and she was frowning and glaring. 

“It’s not you, Sarge,” Twofer chortled. “Lots of clones are virgins.”

“Yeah, we don’t exactly all have time for it,” Grip said. “I mean… it’s not always easy to find someone willing to go steady with a soldier. And not all of us like casual sex enough to bother.” 

“Wait, really?” Sol looked between them, golden eyes wide with surprise. “I guess I figured you’d all at least try to do something, between fighting. I mean, you’re people, after all.” 

“Plenty of people who aren’t clones don’t really do it, either,” Twofer pointed out.

“True,” Swift confirmed, nodding. Sol still seemed to be ingesting this news, and she shrank back down into her knees.

“Ugh. Now I just feel even more silly,” she said.

“Come here, little’un,” Stone said gently, waving her towards him with his hands. She scuttled across the plasturf to climb into the big clone’s lap, and he put his arms around her like a comforting blanket. “Don’t worry, I’m a virgin too,” he rumbled. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “Why?”

Stone shrugged. “Just haven’t met anybody I want to do that with yet.”

“I haven’t either,” Grip said in a show of solidarity. 

Sol’s eyes slid over to Twofer. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” she asked. He grinned.

“A gentleman never tells.”

“So, no. Which means us virgins outnumber you two,” she said with a little grin of her own. 

“We’re here to support you lot if you find your, ah, special someone. Or not so special someone, if that’s how it is.” Swift chucked the ball at her, and she batted it back. “Got anybody in mind?” he added, wagging a brow at her. 

“No,” Stone laughed. 

“Er, not really,” Grip said, eyes wandering upwards as though he were trying to remember. Twofer snorted. 

“If you can’t think of anybody, then the answer’s probably no,” he said, sticking his foot out to prod his brother with it. 

“Sarge?” Swift asked ever so casually, as though he were making the rounds. But Sol had leaned deeper into Stone’s embrace, peeking out at the rest of them. 

“I dunno.” 

“You dunno?” he repeated. “So are you deliberating, or…”

“No,” Sol said a little sharply. “I just don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it that much before.” 

“Alright,” Swift ceded, holding his hands up in the air. “You don’t know. I get it. But you know if you ever do, we’ll all support you, right?” 

“Unless they’re mean to you,” Grip said. “Then, we will dispose of them promptly.” 

Now she was rolling her eyes and smiling again. “Thanks. But I don’t like it when people are mean to me, so I doubt you’ll have to.” 

“We just mean we will protect you, little’un,” Stone said, looking down at her. “You’re our vod, too.” 

Sol blinked up at him like she’d been struck, silent for a moment. “I’m…”

“Stone’s right. You’re our sister as much as we are brothers,” Grip said, and he scooted over the ground closer to the big clone to put his hand on Sol’s arm. Swift followed him, putting his own hand on her knee. 

“Really?” The tears were pooling in her eyes, droplets gathering on her white lashes as she looked between all four of them.

“Yeah,” Twofer agreed. He wasn’t one to touch as casually as his teammates, but even he came over to lay a hand on her shoulder. “You’re stuck with us, vod’ika.” 

“I’m older than you,” Sol said as she tried valiantly not to weep, a tear streaking down her face anyway. 

“Yeah, but you’re shorter than all of us,” Swift grinned. Stone reached one of his huge hands up to brush the tear off her cheek.

“I’ve never had a vod before,” Sol sniffed, bringing her sleeve up to wipe the other eye. “It was just me and my father for such a long time. I wished for a sibling every day, even though it was impossible.”

“Well now you have at least four,” Twofer said, squeezing her shoulder before letting his hand fall away. “Be careful, some of the other guys might try and adopt you, too.” 

“I dunno. Everyone knows squads are different from the regs,” Grip countered. “Besides… you don’t want six million brothers. That’s more than you bargained for.” 

“Plus, you might end up feeling special about one of them,” Swift added, for once not trying to goad her. “And you wouldn’t want that to get... weird.” 

To his surprise and delight, she laughed. For the first time since they’d gotten off the Valiant, she seemed genuinely happy. She put her arms around Stone’s torso for a proper hug.

“Vor’e, vode,” she murmured. 

“Alright, that’s enough, it’s my turn!” And Swift launched himself at his much larger brother, wrapping his arms around Sol’s waist and knocking them all back onto the plasturf with a yelp and a laugh. 

“Oh no y’dont!” Grip piled on next, and Twofer shook his head.

“Now you’re just making me feel left out,” he complained, and added himself to the fray with less aggression. Sol was laughing while more tears ran down her face, and her joy was like a second sun.

Chapter Text

Faro, outside Axis City, Borrobo corporate complex, 21BBY

“Cronos, what’s your position? I might not be able to stand by here for much longer!” came the pilot’s voice over the comm.

“We’re getting there, Swoop!” Sol barked back as she pounded across the roof of a building, her teammates all starting to appear behind her on other rooftops. “Just give us a minute!” 

“If I get shot down, you got no way off this rock,” Swoop reminded her tartly. “I’m just saying!”

“We’re very well aware of that,” Swift said. “We won’t be long.” 

“Please don’t be!” 

Under her helmet through the HUD, the blinks of tiny targets were converging on Sol as she ran. The night wasn’t as dark as she would’ve liked, but it was dark enough for her to be grateful for the tech wrapped around her head. She turned to drop two of the security droids, and saw Stone swing a massive armored fist into one that got too close to him. They were small, and privately owned; their goal was to wrap the squad up in an electro-net and haul them neat and perishable back to their owners. It was a matter of outpacing any armed backup they might have. 

“D’ya think shooting all these buggers means we’ve compromised the mission?” Twofer asked rather dryly as he shot a droid of his own. 

“They’re not spy droids,” Grip said. “They’re not transmitting to anything but their fellow net-droppers. So if we actually get all of them, they won’t have holorecordings of who we are to take back to their boss.” 

Swift took out three droids that were banking right in a neat line. “That sounds like a challenge, vod,” he said with an audible grin. 

“It’s a requirement,” Sol said, putting on her command tone. Just because this mission had been relatively easy didn’t mean they needed to get lazy and ruin it. “Tayli'bac?”

“Yessir!” The chorus of responses was gratifying, she had to admit. Her squad was her family, but there was a time and a place she liked to know that they were also her team-- and even more than that, were listening to her. 

In a strange burst of clarity, the kind that happened in the midst of those heated moments when her instinct took over as though her mind were hovering above her body, she realized that she really was a Sergeant. It was strange to lead when she’d spent her whole life up until now trailing behind someone. Her father, then the Jedi, then Apma. Now, even when she was with a general or some other CO, she was still leading her boys if no one else. It was almost like she was someone else, someone new grown up out of the mess her life had been before.

“Is that you, Swoop?” Swift asked in her ear, and she looked ahead to see something that was definitely not a LAAT/i perched on the rooftop rendezvous point. 

“Yeah, I’m in the SST-67,” Swoop replied. “I see you. I’d drop a few of the fliis for you, but this thing’s got no guns.” 

“No offense, but why are you extracting us in a kriffing Naboo shuttle?” Sol asked as she dropped two more droids.

“I’ll explain once we’re out of atmo safely,” the pilot replied. She supposed she could understand why he was so anxious to get off Faro and away from potentially hostile droids, driving a civilian shuttle of all things. Luckily, she was already there. Bounding over the gap between her roof and the ship, her plastoid boots found purchase mid-step as she sprinted towards the open hatch of the ship. 

“We clear back there, boys?”

“Just about, Sarge,” said Twofer cheerfully as he took out a few more. “This is way better than target practice!” She turned on her heel before entering the ship, taking out one or two more as the other gray and red suits arrived, moving through the faint light of the distant city and the high stars. 

“Hey! I was gonna get that one!” Swift complained as he raced up towards her. 

“Ne'johaa, you big baby, and run faster!” Now she was almost laughing, sending more droids like sparking clumps of hail down towards the ground. Her squad had converged and were filing onto the ship in haste. She and Swift scanned for any more alerts from their HUDs, but the sky was empty as it should have been. 

“Time to go!” Swoop sang from inside. They ducked in as the hatch started to close, and Sol stood still for a moment. Under her helmet she was gaping a little at the inside of the rather luxurious civilian transport. Then she pulled her bucket off and strode up towards the cockpit. Outside the viewport, the nose of the ship was quickly abandoning the suburban complex and its smattering of treetops in favor of the night sky, which was crowded with stars even on a planet as populated as Faro. She stood with her hand on the back of the copilot’s chair, not talking until the air’s drag had stopped tugging at the ship and Swoop was punching coordinates into the hyperdrive. 

“So, what’s going on?” she asked with an arched brow. “We have Master Windu’s intel. There isn’t much to it, though, I’m afraid.” 

“Actually, wait a moment…” Swoop finished his button-work and pushed the lever forward that would turn the pinpoints of light around them into liquid, streaming by in erratic motions. Once the ship was sailing smoothly through hyperspace, he pulled his white and yellow bucket off and turned the seat around to face her. “You all might wanna hear this, actually.” 

“Kriff,” muttered someone, probably Twofer, as the boys rose to crowd the entrance to the cockpit. Swoop turned on the holo-projector in his gauntlet, and a blue ghost of Mace Windu appeared. 

“Cronos Squad. I know it’s last-minute, but there’s been a change of plans. Instead of returning to base, we need you to go to Talasea.” 

“Where the hell is that?” Swift murmured. 

“The 501st was sent with General Skywalker to Talasea some three days ago, but we lost contact with them almost as soon as they made planetfall,” the holo continued. “We received intel that there might be a Separatist hideout there, potentially keeping delicate information about the Trade Federation and other allies of theirs. It’s possible there might be slaves or prisoners there, as well. This is what Skywalker and his men were sent to investigate. Being so far away from the rest of our forces, we’re concerned about the lack of contact. You are the only troops nearby. It could take as much as five days for our other reinforcements to arrive. Force willing, it won’t be that long.” 

“Kriff,” breathed Grip. “Everyone is on the field right now, then?” 

“Yeah,” Swoop replied quietly. 

“Pass your retrieval to your pilot. He’ll return it to me. Your ship will be designed not to draw much attention-- Talasea is a spot for upper class retreats, and almost nothing else. You’ll be inserted two klicks from the initial drop coordinates we gave Skywalker. Assume you will have no way to contact us once you make planetfall. Reinforcements will arrive, but two days is the earliest you can expect them, with longer looking more likely. Stock up on the supplies in the ship. Your objective is to assist Skywalker on his mission, unless the mission is forfeit due to unforeseen circumstances. In which case your objective is to keep everyone alive until we can come get you.” As usual, Windu’s face was stern even in the recording. He put his hands behind his back and clasped them there. “May the Force be with you, commandos.”

Then he was no more, a flicker of blue light vanished into thin air. Sol took a slow breath. 

“Two days, huh?” she asked. 

“Yeah. There’s all kinds of guesses as to what happened, all of them pretty pessimistic,” Swoop replied. “Their intel came from the Bothan spy network.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” murmured Swift. 

“Well, I’ve got maps for you, and the supplies the General mentioned, but not much else.” The pilot was almost apologetic. “This is a quick drop.” 

“That’s fine. We’ll get down there and figure it out.” Sol looked out the viewport, but she did not really see the stream of hyperspace. Her thoughts were decidedly elsewhere. 

-----

Talasea, somewhere in the jungle

Under their boots, the foliage that grew dense on the planet crunched and broke with each step. It was raining, steady and hard, casting a gray pallor over the green world. Sol led them in a single file line through the ferns and parasite plants with its thrumming noise faintly rumbling in her ears. 

“The gravity’s even higher here,” Twofer was grumbling on the squad channel. “This planet is miserable.”

“You’re the one who packed every scrap of ordnance they had on the shuttle,” Swift reminded him less than gently. 

“Wouldn’t have, if I’d known the gravity situation.” 

“As long as you keep up, vod,” Sol said, voice low and terse. “The rest of us can carry some if we have to.” 

“I’m not putting explosives on everyone, Sarge, but thanks for the offer.” Twofer’s voice was edged with his frustration, but she knew his thanks were genuine. “Guess I’m just grateful that fluff job on Faro turned out to be even easier than I expected. Whatever we’re walking into, it can’t be good.” 

“The coordinates are coming up soon, but I don’t hear anything or have any readings other than a big, wet jungle,” Grip said. 

“We’ll see what’s going on when we get there.” She tried not to pay too much attention to the feeling that her heart was in her throat, that her muscles were wound tight around her guts. But she wasn’t afraid for herself, or her team. 

Almost before they knew it, the commandos walked into a clearing just barely big enough to accommodate a massive gray cube of a building. There was no window on the wall facing them, but smoke was trailing out of it from somewhere on the other side.

On the ground around it were dozens of droid carcasses, oozing oil right into the mud. Alongside them were pieces of white and blue armor and soggy blackened areas that had once been scorch marks. Across the clearing was a mess of broken flora and tree limbs, where a large company had evidently departed. Sol went quietly, Deece in-hand, around the east wall. She threw up a hand signal to keep her squad at the treeline as she peeked around the corner towards the front. 

There was a door blown off its hinges, leaving an opening that was releasing a steady plume of smoke. White armor was everywhere, corpses inside it where it wasn’t blown into pieces. Two other dead bodies, a Trandoshan and a Weequay, lie bloating on the ground as the rain pinged off the droid parts around them. 

“There was a battle,” she said, voice subdued. “A really nasty one. I think this is the only way in or out of the building.” She glanced up the wall, and spotted tiny slots some 500 meters up with narrow cannon noses peeking out of them. There was no telling who had been on the roof, not without getting up there herself and looking. She stepped gingerly around the bodies to make her way towards the entrance. 

“Sarge, don’t go in,” Swift said over the comm. “You don’t know what’s in there. I think it’s clear enough the 501st aren’t here anymore.” 

“I’m just taking a look,” she replied. She wanted to go in, to check every corpse and see who was dead. But there wasn’t time for that. She crept up on the door and leaned around to peer through the opening. 

It was deadly silent inside, though some of the wreckage was still burning. The smoke eddied harmlessly around her helmet, blocked by its filters. There were bodies everywhere, and not all of them troopers. It looked for all the world like a motley crew of bounty hunters had been here along with the droids, and maybe some of them were prisoners as well. 

“Osi'kyr,” she murmured. “This is bad.” 

“How many of ‘em you reckon are dead?” asked Grip, his voice also subdued. “They said it was a battalion that came here.” 

“At least a third of them, maybe as much as half.” She swallowed nothing, silently praying to whatever was listening that Anakin, his padawan, and the few of his men that she knew weren’t among the scorched bodies. The boys were silent, profoundly sobered by the scene. 

“We should go, vod’ika,” came Stone’s voice in her ear. “Their trail is easy to follow. We have to find them.” 

For a moment, Sol felt glued to where she stood before the opening into the brutal tableau. She sucked in a deep breath before pushing her foot away, one movement at a time turning around. The pain that was always with her seemed sharpened in that moment, paired with the grief and fear in her heart. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Talasea, near Separatist outpost 2

Rex was not a stranger to those moments in battles and on missions where it was easy to wonder if you’d survive this one, which clanker was carrying the bolt of plasma that would kill you. It was such a particular bleakness to embrace. He’d been there more than once, and was certain he’d be there again. 

He wasn’t certain Skywalker was ever there. The General was pacing at the opening of the cave they’d retreated into, waiting on his scouts to return. He was nearly vibrating with agitation, impatience, all those things the Jedi aren’t supposed to feel, or show if they do feel them. Commander Tano, on the other hand, was sitting nearby in a meditation pose. She was worried, too, but it was like she and the General took turns expressing it openly. 

At that point, Rex was beyond agitation. It had been 24 standard hours since their four scouts had been sent out; the first pair had returned from the second outpost, which was some three or four klicks away, but they knew now that a third one existed. That pair of scouts was still missing, and soon enough they would have to make their next move with or without them. 

Those two scouts were Fives and Jesse, and this wasn’t the first time he’d been waiting to see their ghosts in his sleep. He sat with his back against the cave wall, one ear on the neverending rain outside and the other on the remains of his battalion as they clustered together beneath the dank cover of rock. A little river ran along the other side, running high and fast with muddy rainwater once it made its way out of the cave’s shelter. His helmet was off, comm piece in his ear. Even in the humidity, something about the air on this planet calmed him down. It might’ve been an excess of oxygen, he wasn’t sure. But its tonic effects were lost on Skywalker. 

The crackle on his comm didn’t come from the channel he’d expected. 

“—ywalker? General, can you hear me? Comma—”

“Who is that?” Ahsoka asked, suddenly no longer in her pose. 

“This is Captain Rex,” he said, tapping the receiver. “Who’s out there?” 

“Rex!” The reply was a voice that shot a strange feeling through his chest, a sudden and profoundly welcome familiarity. “Rex, what’s your position? Where are you?” 

“Sol? Is that you?” 

“This is Cronos Squad, Captain. Where are you?” came another voice, this one much more like his own. Rex’s brow was furrowed, but he felt the sudden urge to laugh. 

“We’re in the cave at the top of this river, fifteen klicks southeast of the drop point,” he replied. “Where are you?” 

“Coming your way, alor’ad. We’re coming up the river from the west bank,” Sol’s voice replied. 

“Wait ‘till you’re up here to ford it, it’s less flooded.” 

“Aye, Captain!” When their chatter went quiet again, he shook his head and half laughed, half sighed. 

“Well, that’s strange,” Skywalker said, still standing but now hovering nearby with one finger rubbing his chin. “But I’m not complaining. Not yet, anyway.” 

“Was that Cronos, sir?” came a voice to his other ear, from Echo. 

“Yeah, looks like they sent us a royal escort,” Rex said. His boys were set a-chattering by that news, but it seemed to be a boon to their morale. It certainly was a boon to his. When he heard their boots marching up through the undergrowth to the opposite bank outside, he stood up to greet them. 

One gray and red suit at a time, five figures forged through the water and climbed inside the lip of the cave. The shortest one was last. 

“Kriff, am I happy we found you,” came Sol’s voice through the static of her vocoder. “We found the building down there first.” 

“Saw that, huh?” Rex asked, the weight plain in his words. 

“It looks like our intel was bad,” Skywalker said as he approached. “Really bad. We thought there was one spot here, probably not heavily guarded because it’s so out of the way. Nobody comes here anymore, even the settlers have been leaving.”

“They’re bounty hunters, aren’t they?” she asked, turning to the Jedi. Skywalker just nodded. “You say there’s more than one location?” 

“There’s three,” Rex said. “And they’re all at least as heavily guarded as the first one, it’s safe to say. But we don’t know everything yet, the boys we sent for recon out towards the third haven’t returned yet.” 

“How long have you been in this cave?” she asked, voice tinged with concern. 

“More than a standard day,” Skywalker replied. “The first day, we were at the first outpost. Then it was all getting from there to here, looking for a spot to tend the wounded.” 

The breath that Rex heard was as heavy as his shoulders felt. She reached her gloved hands up to tug her bucket off, releasing a messy wad of white hair and a pair of golden eyes into the humid air of the cave. “How can we help, Anakin?” 

“Right now, I really want to hear from those scouts before I come up with a plan,” Skywalker replied. “Starting to think I should’ve sent two more out hours ago to find them, or find out what happened to them. But the men needed rest, badly.” 

“I assume you have a backup plan for if you have to mobilize first?” 

“I mean… mostly. But I don’t like it very much, and I don’t like the idea that the third position could send backup if we just hit them one at a time. I’m sure they have inter-communication, so they have to know we’re here.” 

“We could go out and retrieve your scouts, General,” Swift chimed in.

“I might just ask you to,” he replied, still pondering with a deep furrow in his forehead. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” came Ahsoka’s voice suddenly from behind. “But why did Master Windu send us a commando squad, when what we need is the rest of the 501st and some air support?” 

“Ahsoka!” Skywalker hissed in admonishment. “Don’t be ungrateful.”

“No, it’s a fair question I was beginning to ask, myself,” Sol said, looking at the Togruta girl. “But everyone they can send is anywhere from two to five days away. We happened to be on Faro, so General Windu rerouted us to you. I guess he figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

“Oh,” Ahsoka replied faintly. “Well, that’s not great.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Skywalker said darkly. “But we have to take these two outposts out. They’re holding prisoners, I’m certain of it. No idea why, or what else they have, but we have to neutralize them like we did the first one.” 

“Or unlike we did the first one,” Ahsoka pointed out. 

“Alright, Snips, settle down. This is Cronos Squad, by the way, the ones I wanted to introduce you to before Makem Te.” He gave a sidelong tilt of his head, and Rex took a step to the side so his Commander could present more fully to the commandos. “This is my Padawan and Commander, Ahsoka Tano.” 

Sol held out her hand and gave an easy smile. “Nice to meet you, Commander,” she said. “I’m Sergeant Sol Tannor. This is Swift, Grip, Stone, and Twofer. We’re at your service.” 

“So, if you’re not a clone, how did you become a commando?” the girl asked as she shook Sol’s hand, eyeing her armor curiously.

“That’s a very long story,” Sol said. “But the short version is, it was General Windu’s idea.” 

“One day we might all get the long version,” Rex said, smiling. “But not right now. We need to figure out what to do about these Seps.” 

“Come on, let’s sit. We gotta catch you up before we can start with the strategy.” Skywalker turned to lead them away from the noise of the rain and a little deeper into the cave’s inviting gloom, dotted with little beams from the troopers’ headlamps here and there. Most of them seemed to be asleep, which made Rex glad. At least when they charged headlong into another fight they were woefully underprepared for, they’d be well-rested. 

Less than an hour later, he was out in the jungle again. Beside him was Sol, marching along in her downsized set of Katarn-class armor. Behind them, the rest of Cronos Squad and his COs watched them leave, their faces hung with serious expressions. Rex dared not speak until they were out of sight, out of range on the comm channel even. Hell, he wasn’t sure he dared to speak at all. The feeling from before, when her voice had come over the comm, was live again now— and he’d remembered what it was, where it came from. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back there. 

“How many did you lose, Rex?” she asked after a little while, breaking the silence before he could decide if he was up to it or not. Her tone was full of the lingering grief most everyone in the GAR knew very well. His heart softened a little. 

“Two hundred and twenty-five,” he replied. 

“I’m sorry. That building…”

“It was designed to keep people out. We needed a bloody cannon, or several,” he said, and the acrid regret was in his voice before he could keep it out.

“What happened to your ship?” 

“We landed too close. They took out its engines.” 

“Osik,” she muttered. “Since when does a Bothan give bad intel?” 

“I dunno, but this one did.” He sighed. “I’m sorry they sent you and your men into this. It’s a lot bigger than anybody thought or prepared for.”

“It’s alright, alor’ad,” she said. “We just came from a fluff job. Not a single droid armed with anything but a buzz-net came at us the whole time. We have some extra energy, and I can’t think of anywhere better in the galaxy to be putting it.” 

His face was warm suddenly. “Well, we’re certainly glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah. Me too.”

There were a few moments where they just continued on through the ferns, their silence feeling huge and soft even with the constant insistence of rain on their helmets. But he felt a little awkward, leaving it at that. 

“So, what was this fluff job?” Rex asked at length. 

Sol laughed, the sweet sound directly in his ear through the comm. “Picking up intel on Faro, from some senator who’s in cahoots with the Trade Federation. We broke into some industrial complex, it was so new you could still smell the permacrete. This di’kut had no idea what he was doing, keeping backups of all his files there.” 

“That does sound like a fluff job, after what I’ve seen you’re capable of.”

“Twofer was just mad he didn’t get to blow anything up.”

He chuckled. “Well, he might get plenty of that here.”

“I’m sure that’ll make him feel bet—”

A sudden crash cut her off, and to Rex’s dismay so did tumbling down through a massive hole that suddenly opened up in the underbrush. He heard her armor clanking against something, and peered down after her.

“Sol! Are you alright?” 

A groan came through over the comm. “I’m fine, just… what the kriff was that?” She was sitting flat on her ass below, lots of damp leaves and wood that was rotting and soggy splintered all around her. Rex stared at the ground for a moment, then crouched down and pushed the foliage around with his gloved hand. 

“It’s a tunnel!” he exclaimed once he realized what he was looking at, finding a jagged edge of some kind of clay that formed the structure of the space Sol had stumbled into. “You see anything?” 

Below, her head cast left and right. “Oh! You’re right. It… I was scared it was a sewer tunnel for a moment, but there’s nothing in it.”

“Might lead to a sewer tunnel,” he pointed out. 

“Don’t summon fate, Rex,” she said dryly. “She has no mercy. Anyway, it looks like somebody wanted a secret way in or out of somewhere.” 

“I think this wood they used to cover it was compromised by the kriffing rain,” he said. “We should report this to General Skywalker.” 

“Should we find out where it goes first?” By now she had hauled herself back up to standing, still looking in both directions like it might reveal something new if she looked hard enough. 

“Hm. Maybe.”

“C’mon, narir gar chaab?” He could hear that crooked grin in her voice; he knew the Mando’a word for fear, too. 

“What? Of course I’m not,” he huffed, slightly flustered in spite of himself. “You have a point. We need more information. I’ll come down.” He took a knee, then sat down properly to swing his legs over the lip of the busted tunnel. It was easy enough to push himself off and land on his feet at the bottom, spinning to face Sol. 

“Very elegant, Captain,” she said. He wished more than anything that he could see her smile when she said things like that from under the helmet. But he pushed it away, like he did most inconvenient feelings.

“I am a professional.”

“Oh, I expected nothing less.” She turned in the direction that led away from their cave. Rex stepped into the darkness beyond the tunnel’s impromptu entrance, and his HUD switched to night vision automatically. Then he looked at her, momentarily grateful she couldn’t see his face. His cheeks were slightly sore from a little smile that had made camp there in spite of everything. 

“Shall we?”

Chapter Text

Talasea, near Separatist outpost 2

Before the search party returned to the cave, Anakin had already managed to come up with three different plans as to what to do if they took much longer. Ahsoka counted ‘just sit here and wait for the kriffing reinforcements’ as a fourth, but he wasn’t interested. 

“You sure we shoulda let Sarge wander off with the Captain?” Twofer muttered to Swift from where Cronos Squad was perched at the edge of the cave, dividing ordnance between their packs. 

“Why shouldn’t we?” Swift replied, and Anakin could see his face was quizzical but the impish quirk to his mouth gave him away. So the Jedi let himself casually wander a little closer to eavesdrop, eyes diligently on his holomap.

“I mean…” 

“C’mon, Twof. Let them have a little fun.” 

“This isn’t fun, Swift, this is war.”

“Do you know anybody better at war than us, vod? They’ll be fine. Hell, they’re liable to seize the whole outpost by themselves, if Rex’s reputation is any indication.” Swift was almost laughing. “Maybe they’ll have fun doing it, too.” 

“You think she knows?” Twofer asked. 

“Knows what?” 

“That she has a crush.” 

“You think she doesn’t know her own feelings?” 

“I’m just saying, she’s awful close about them. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t understand them yet.” Anakin heard Twofer’s concern for his CO in his voice, typically so gruff and full of dry sarcasm. It was always interesting to watch people who pretended to be above it all let themselves slip, he thought. At that moment, it was also endearing.

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing they’re off together, then. Until they find out what’s going on, she might have to pay attention to that crush and maybe figure it out.” Swift was obvious in his concern, unlike his brother. “I wonder if she can tell that he likes her, too.”

Anakin felt himself get a little excited, just then. The idea that his right-hand man might have a secret admirer filled him with something akin to glee, an emotion that shook the smog out of his heart for a moment. The idea that Rex reciprocated was even more heartening. 

“Maybe. She does have that Force thing, a little. But then again, if she doesn’t know what it’s like to feel that way herself, maybe not.” Twofer was stroking his stubbly chin pondering this. 

“You remember your first crush?” Swift asked, tone a little dreamy. “It’s such a magical feeling.”

“Oh, I remember.” 

“Was it Jex? That girl from the Duro mission?”

“That obvious, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” Swift chuckled. “I mean, mine was Hark. I met him at 79’s. That’s not half as cute as you and Jex.” 

“Can we not?” Twofer’s tone took on a little edge, then. Anakin could sense a ripple of sadness rolling off his shoulders like a well-worn cloak. 

“Sorry, vod.”

“S’alright.” 

“We packed up, men?” Anakin asked, finally breaking his bad habit to go back to being in charge. “I wanna blow this place off the holomap pretty soon.” 

“Yessir,” said Swift, standing with his pack in his hands. “But I think we should wait for Sarge. I know she won’t be too long.” 

“You seem confident,” he replied. There was a question buried in there, wrapped up in his desire not to seem like he was eavesdropping. 

“I know Sarge, sir. Once she has the info we need, she’ll turn right around and bring it to us.”

“I know Rex would do the same. They seem well matched.” 

“Master, the comm!” came Ahsoka’s voice as she approached from behind with a commlink in her hand. Words were trying to form out of the static. 

“—us, I repeat, returning— ase— sir—”

“Captain Rex? Can you hear me?” Anakin said, holding the comm up to his ear. 

“Sir! We-- ound a tunnel system connect-- the outposts!” 

“A tunnel system?” 

“Ye— on our way—”

“You’re breaking up, Rex, just hurry back,” he said, feeling his frustration as though it were pushing against each word that got half-swallowed by the poor connection. 

“—essir!” 

“Tunnels, huh? This thing is a lot bigger and more organized than your intel suggested, sir,” said Grip, who had wandered over upon hearing the commlink. So had Echo, nervously awaiting news of his closest brother. Anakin could have cut the tension in that cave with his lightsaber. 

“Yeah, we kinda figured that out,” he replied, frowning. “But this does just keep adding to the pile. Maybe in our favor, this time, though.” 

“Using the tunnels might be viable, depending on if they’re well-guarded or not,” Echo chimed in. “It sounds like the Captain and Sergeant Tannor found their way in and out in one piece. Er, two pieces.” 

“If we can use them, we might have a new plan for all those explosives, Twofer,” Anakin said to the commando with a grin. 

“Oh, sir, be still my heart,” the commando grinned back. 

It wasn’t long before Rex and Sol came through the dense jungle and ceaseless rain and back under the shelter of the cave. Almost as soon as they did, about ten questions got volleyed at them at once. 

“Whoa, whoa! Okay, I’m the general, so I’ll go first,” Anakin said loudly, hushing the crowd of curious clones and his padawan. “Did you find Fives and Jesse?” 

“No, sir,” Sol said, her voice laden with discomfort at her own answer. “But I think they kept going through the tunnels when we turned around. So I think they’re still inside somewhere.” 

“If I know either of them, she’s right,” Rex agreed. “But listen. We did a little slicing, and the tunnels go underground between all three of the outposts. They’re not guarded until you get close, about a half a klick from the buildings themselves.” 

“And, there’s underground rooms. I thought a few, but the layout I found showed a lot more,” Sol said. “This isn’t just three outposts. It’s a whole complex.”

“Is it all for prisoners and slaves? Anakin asked, his voice going sour.

“Probably not. There’s storage here too, though I don’t know what they’re storing. Some of it must be more valuable than the rest, because there’s a bank-grade lock on a whole subsection of the third outpost’s underground levels. This is a Seppie gold mine, Anakin.” 

“And we have to neutralize it,” he replied. “The map showed that outpost two is a lot smaller than the other one. We should focus our efforts on outpost three.” 

“But sir, if they send backup from number two, they’ll have us pinned in. Possibly underground, on their turf,” Echo said. 

“Exactly,” Rex said. “We’ll need more men to take number three, but we can’t just let number two alone. After finding all those bounty hunters at number one, I’m absolutely certain there are more at both of these spots.” 

“We could divide the company,” Ahsoka suggested. “May send a smaller force to two and a larger one to three?” 

“That was what I was thinking, too,” Anakin replied.

“Actually, sir, Sol and I had another idea.” Rex’s voice had a tone in it that he knew well, one that betrayed just how excited he was about a plan. Which usually involved sending a lot of droids back in pieces. He didn’t miss the sudden and familiar use of her name, either.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My team is trained for stealth,” Sol began. “We should be able to infiltrate the second outpost and place explosives at certain points that, once triggered, will collapse all but the bottom three levels. Those we can clear manually first. You and your men could take two routes to outpost three, with a company aboveground to distract them and another in the tunnels. By the time you engage, Cronos should be at your location to support, or on the way.” 

Anakin blinked, thinking his way through the plan presented like a series of still holo images. “Did you get a look at the outside of the third outpost?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Rex said. “I think it’s safe to assume it’s similarly fortified to number one.”

“In that case, I’d rather take the whole company underground. I know it bottlenecks us, but we lost too many men the first time.” 

“Master, I could lead the aboveground company,” Ahsoka said. He shook his head almost before she was done speaking. 

“No. We weren’t enough together, and you’re not exactly a diplomat.” She frowned in response, which he had fully anticipated. “I appreciate your willingness, though. We might split up underground, in which case I’d need you to lead those men.” 

“Let Cronos take them topside, sir,” said Swift suddenly. “We’ll blow up number two, then head your way and pull their attention.” 

“Why would I let you do that after what happened to my battalion?” Anakin arched a brow; he was used to commandos being a little arrogant, but this idea seemed almost foolish. “There’s five of you.” 

“Yeah, but Stone brought a missile launcher,” Twofer said through his smirk. Anakin’s eyes darted over to the big clone, who shrugged. 

“Sarge likes them,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That might help. But only if you can blow a few extra doors in the walls,” Ahsoka pointed out, clearly also worried.

“That’s the idea.” Sol was grinning under her helmet, and there was for the first time a real surge of pride from her. He glanced at Rex, and Echo, and then back at his cave full of loyal troops. It was always a relief to have them, even when he was riddled with guilt for letting them down, for losing them. For a moment, his throat clenched up with the fear that he was sending Sol’s men to their deaths, and she might have to live with that same guilt. But that wasn’t a fear he could let into his already crowded heart. She knew, just as well as he did, what the risks were. He turned back to her helmet with its ghostly blueish visor. 

“Alright. But don’t you dare get into heroics. As soon as you can get inside where we can cover you, do it. Whenever we can, we need to fight together.” Her nod was slow, and he remembered it from their talks long ago. 

“We’ll do what we do best, General,” said Grip. “You’ll hear us on the comm as soon as we’re in range.” 

With a nod of his own, Anakin turned his attention to Rex. “You ready to brief the men and get outta here?” 

“Yessir,” the Captain replied. Curiously, Anakin thought, he then turned to nod at Sol before heading with Echo and Ahsoka over towards the troopers. Perhaps her teammates were right, and there was a blossoming thing between those two. He forgot to hide his little grin, but it didn’t take long for the seriousness of what was about to happen to tug it off his face.

“You’re sure about this, Sol?” he asked as her men readied themselves, donning helmets and securing their packs. Stone brought a pack over for Sol to hitch to the one already on her armor, as well as a staff of some kind that he’d been hauling.

“This is what we do,” she replied. “And we’re more than happy to do it. I was telling Rex, the job we just came from was a nuhun. I think Twofer here hasn’t blown anything up in almost a week.”

“I sure haven’t,” Twofer chimed in, all pitiable gruffness. 

Anakin chuckled. “Sorry if it sounds like I don’t trust you. I do. I just… you know.” 

“Worry?” Her tone was gentle, understanding. “I know. Me too.” 

“Yeah. I know you do.” He cast another look back at the 501st, and Rex and Ahsoka standing there giving their orders. “Enough of these men have died already. Your plan means I might be able to save even more of them than I could without you. Thank you for that.” 

“Anytime, General Skywalker,” Sol said, and it felt like the honorific was intentional. She might not have been a Mandalorian, but it was more than clear that she came from them sometimes. Using a military title like that, when someone else might’ve used a more familiar term, was something that reminded him of every Mando he’d ever met. 

For a moment, he felt strange. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be known or respected as a general. Not because he didn’t want to fight to protect the Republic, but because it seemed like something a Jedi wasn’t supposed to want to be. But the fear passed as soon as the cave filled with a resounding clatter of plastoid, armor and boots and supplies clanking out of rest and into battle. 

Regardless of what a Jedi should or should not want, this was where he was right now. These lives were his to protect, or to sacrifice. He knew which one he wanted to do.

“Whenever you’re ready, Cronos Squad,” he said finally. 

“Aye, sir,” Swift responded with his lazy two-finger salute. Gray and red armor turned to walk out into the downpour, but Sol turned back before she left the shelter of the rock. 

“Hey, 501st!” she called. “K'oyacyi!”

When they’d gone, Anakin went over to Rex as he gathered up his materials. “What does that mean?” he asked.

Rex paused, as though he were remembering. “It means stay alive.”

Chapter Text

Talasea, Separatist outpost 2, underground tunnels

She hadn’t told anyone, of course, but the labyrinth of tunnels made Sol profoundly uncomfortable. If there was anything a childhood on the run had ingrained in her, it was that freedom of movement was paramount. Beneath the earth, she was bound by the narrow paths laid out for her. She’d been in such situations before, and it made her skin crawl and her heart beat faster, drawing every muscle in her body taut. 

It hadn’t been quite that bad, though, with Rex alongside her. Now with her squad she was adapting even more. They moved in complete synergy, as much like a river as five human bodies could be. Laying the detonators was easy, killing the handful of guards they found was even easier. In fact, there was very little reinforcement at all in the bowels of the second outpost.

“It’s almost like they all left,” Swift muttered into the comm, their voices hidden from ears outside of their helmets. “There’s just not enough people here, not if what they’re guarding is even remotely important.”

“They might be upstairs,” Grip said. “These might not be highly used areas. I’m sure they weren’t expecting us to come from below, either.”

“Or maybe they concentrated their forces at number three,” Twofer said. “Since the first spot got attacked, they might be shoring everyone up together.”

“Hitting two well-armed targets is much harder than hitting one, even if their strength is doubled as one,” Sol reminded him. 

“Maybe they didn’t have enough people or firepower to make both places well-armed,” Twofer offered. 

“Maybe. I won’t be looking a gift orbak in the mouth, either way,” Grip said.

“I’m trying to work out if it amounts to a gift or not.” Swift was putting the last charge in as he spoke; Twofer was wiring it to the other four charges in that room. They’d come across a handful of safes, none of which they’d bothered to try and hack in the event that it triggered some kind of alarm system. Only twelve targets had been dropped; eleven droids and one Gran that Sol knew was a guild member by the bounty chip in his pocket. 

“You reckon the Trade Federation runs this place? Or the Banking Clan?” she wondered aloud as she waved the boys out of the room and back towards the tunnels that led away from the building. 

“Why d’you ask?” Swift inquired. 

“They’ve paid a lot of bounty hunters to take time off of work and come here and stand guard over something.” The group of them moved around a series of halls and back towards the foyer room that would take them to the tunnels, quiet as death and dark as shadows with their nightvision visors. 

“Do bounty hunters do that? Take money to stand around like a bunch of security droids?” Grip asked. 

“They take money,” she said flatly. “A lot of it, to do something easy like this? I know of two people in the galaxy who wouldn’t take that job, and they’re both dead.” 

“Wait, who?” Twofer’s voice was puzzled and fascinated.

“My father, and Jango Fett.” Sol’s voice was strangely even despite her general avoidance of speaking of her father. Every time she thought about him it hurt, even still. While her mother’s death had stopped being a constant sting eventually, Nom Tannor’s cruelly random demise was like a needle driving deeper into her heart. Not that it mattered; people died of sudden and unpredictable and even ridiculous circumstances all the time. 

“That checks out,” Swift murmured. “Two klicks till we’re far enough out to blow this jogan fruit stand.” 

“Run faster, vod, my trigger finger’s itchy,” Twofer said with a rather menacing chuckle. 

“We’ll have to get above ground before we can send it,” Sol said. “The map doesn’t have a lot of exits, but there’s one that’s just outside the third outpost.”

“That’s a little far, isn’t it?” Swift asked.

“Far enough not to be running through a possibly unstable tunnel, yes.” It was that tone she’d practiced that meant that there was no time or reason to argue, mostly because she’d already decided. Better safe than sorry was written all over this mission.

“That’s ten klicks, then.” 

“Better watch that finger,” Stone chuckled to his brother. Twofer just growled, and picked up his pace. 

-----

Talasea, Separatist outpost 3, underground tunnels

The mess of rooms below the third outpost was one menagerie after the other of things Rex found almost ridiculous; golden statues, crystal baubles, rich fabrics. He knew it would all fetch a pretty stack of credits even in a legitimate market, and hoarding meant that the Seps involved probably didn’t intend to sell them at one of those. But it got on his nerves that such insipid indulgence was a part of the machine of war. 

Not that this was his first time seeing it, nor would it be the last, of course. That didn’t stop it bringing a curl of disgust to his lip every time. 

“Sir, the left passage ahead is the section that’s been bank-locked. We have nothing we can slice it with,” said Echo as he rejoined the front of the company. 

“I wish we had Artoo,” Skywalker growled. “This means there will likely be more guards from here on up. Once we come to the second crossroads, we’ll split up just like we talked about.” 

“Master, what if the prisoners are inside the locked section?” Ahsoka asked, all tense anxiety. 

“We need to find out who can help us with the lock before we can do anything about it,” Skywalker said. “So don’t kill everyone you meet, if they look like someone who might have a key to that sort of thing.” It was one of those dark jokes that wasn’t meant to draw a laugh. Ahsoka just huffed and nodded.

Rex was looking everywhere, around every corner, for Fives and Jesse. But there had been no sign of them, and he couldn’t help but think that the most likely reason was because they were dead. His hope was almost mechanical, checking everywhere just on the principle that he could very well be wrong. 

They reached the crossroads and split, Rex taking note of the section number painted on the permacrete walls in case they had to turn around and start picking that lock later. He followed Commander Tano, unusually silent in his vigilance. He wondered if Cronos Squad was still alive, too. There was a feeling, like his chest was bound up tight, that never left him when he was waiting for any trooper to rejoin the main company. It was his only physical sensation at that moment.

“You alright, Rex?” Ahsoka asked as they crept through the passages.

“Yessir. Just staying focused.”

“Fair enough. I hate it down here.” Her saber hilt was in her hand, though the weapon was not yet activated. She kept sniffing, her predator instincts fully canny to every sound or smell or glimmer of faint light in the dank tunnels. Suddenly she stopped and held out her hand to bring Rex to a halt as well.

“Sir?” he asked, sensing her unease more than anything else. 

“Up ahead. There’s a turn. I can sense a few guards there, and they probably have droids with them. But above that there’s even more, so we should be careful and expect them to come down if we make a lot of noise.” 

“Blasters make noise, sir. Not much we can do about that.”

“I mean, yes, I’m just saying to expect company.” Her tone was that arch one that most young people reserved for when they felt stupid but wanted to play it off. He was alright with her being overly cautious and attentive, though. 

“We’ll get the guns warm for them, then,” he replied, and her little side-eyed grin was reassuring. 

Turning the corner was an awkward moment, stunned silence followed immediately by blaster fire which resounded through the narrow tunnels terribly. Rex took a knee, letting his brothers behind him take shots at standing height. 

The system was working perfectly. Like a machine, his half of the 501st was plowing through security droids and the errant fleshy guard with brutal efficiency; grown from their birth pods on Kamino and honed by a lifetime in training. Or half a lifetime, anyway. 

But then they reached a massive room that opened up on a network of durasteel and iron grated stairs and platforms some three or four stories high-- all of which happened to be occupied by a colorful array of what could only have been the hired help, in the form of bounty hunters and assassin droids. 

“Kriff,” he found time to mutter as the shots began again. “Sir! We’re too vulnerable to go in there!” 

Ahsoka was deflecting shots with her green blade. “You got any other ideas?” 

“Yeah, turn the hell around and find a different direction!” 

“Child,” came a voice through a vocoder, low and stern. Rex’s eyes shot up to see a man in full armor and a Mandalorian helmet peering down at them from his perch several platforms above. “Your subordinate is wise. You should listen to him.” 

“When you’re in charge, I’ll consider asking for your opinion!” Tano barked, full of her usual feisty frustration. Rex had been dodging behind a crate for cover, darting out just long enough to take his shots at the myriad of targets he now had. His next one was aimed squarely at the Mando, and it landed home in the middle of his chest. 

The sparks that flew from the armor made no sense for a split second. The staggering but unharmed figure in their wake recovered just enough to fire his Westar blaster pistol at Rex, but the clone captain was already ducking.

“His armor! It’s blast-proof!” he warned his brothers, who had already taken a few casualties at the threshold and were continuing to pile in slowly, seeking cover as they aimed at their enemies. 

“Sir! There’s more of them coming from behind us!” The shout came in through his comm from some panicked trooper he couldn’t see back down the tunnel they’d come through. “We’re trapped!” 

“Then take all of them out that you can!” He tapped at the controls on his gauntlet, trying to organize a single way out of this situation even as he fired another shot from around his cover. It was gratifying to at least see one of the droids collapse in fumes before he ducked and Skywalker’s voice came over the comm. 

“Rex, that you?” His voice was staticky, but audible. 

“Sir, they’ve pinned us in. We’re inside the main room on the lower levels, but they’re behind us now too!”

“We’ll be right there, Captain." 

“I’ll just put a kettle on for you then, sir.” 

“Don’t forget, I like my tea with nectrose!” The comm blinked off, and Rex knew his captain was in a killing mood. It was a particular sense you had, watching Skywalker in battle— well, one of them. This was the confident one, the jokes between powerful swings of his lightsaber mood. The other one was darker, and tended to arise when they were losing. The fact that he was still in the former was a strange relief of its own. 

He made good on his word, too. Not three minutes later Skywalker crashed into the main room from an entrance that was higher up among the grates. Ahsoka cheered; the droids and bounty hunters now had to choose between two target groups, and his men flooded the floor of the vaulted chamber to seek and make cover while some of their enemies clambered above. Just as Rex started to climb a nearby stair and found the Mandalorian in the fray again, he saw the man pause as though listening.

When his helmet looked straight up as though he could see through the ceiling, Rex had a hunch about what information had just arrived over his comlink. 

“Any word from Cronos?” Rex asked over his own comm. A raucous laugh answered him. 

“You miss me, Captain?” asked Swift’s voice. Rex grinned wide under his helmet.

“Of course we did! How’d your mission go?” 

“Come up topside and look out the window when you get a chance!” 

Rex shook his head, knowing that meant that the smoke signal from the second outpost’s remains was visible from here. These commandos were damn good. “I’ll have to work my way up there through the numerous hostiles down here. We’ve got bounty hunters, assassin droids, and a decent amount of B1s. I’m expecting commando droids to join the fray sometime, too.”

“They’re already up here at the cool kid’s table,” Sol’s voice came crackling over the comm. Rex’s heart thudded a little harder. 

“It’s just because you’re so cyar'la, Sergeant. They can’t help themselves.” From across the room, he saw Kix’s helmet turn and look directly at him for a moment, as though surprised at the Mando’a word. But what he really paid attention to was the muffled laugh coming from Sol.

“Yeah, everybody wants a piece of the big guns,” chuckled Swift. “You need us to work our way down to you?” 

“I might not need it, per say, but it sure as hell would make me feel better.”

“Already on the way, alor’ad,” Sol replied. Rex looked back up and realized that the Mando was gone, and waved his men towards the fore of their line. 

“Let’s push ‘em up, lads!” 

Chapter Text

Talasea, inside Separatist outpost 3

Sol was pushing through, but now that they were indoors again and out of mortars it was down to blaster fire and close-quarters combat. For all their jokes and the surge of adrenaline brought on by the massive plumes of dense black smoke curling into the endless gray canvas of clouds overhead, she was starting to realize that being inside the compound— even with this one being much larger than the other two— was working against the 501st. Whoever had paid these headhunters had also stocked up on droid reinforcements, and it was all she could do to not simply be overwhelmed inside the halls and passages. The battle droids stuck to open spaces in larger rooms, as though someone had been wise enough to remember that they were useless in close quarters. If someone got in her face, it was flesh and blood that her Deece and vibroblade met with, much less predictable than clankers. 

By the time she’d made it to the bottom end of their troops, she was finally starting to really run low on ammo; the droids just kept coming and the assassin droids in particular needed a lot more fire than the others to take down. 

“Rex!” she called when she spotted the blue jaig eyes below her in the massive chamber. “How’s it looking down here?” 

“We’ve got the wounded, but some of these guys keep trickling in from behind so we have to stay on our toes,” the captain called back. He’d just hauled one of his injured brothers down to the first aid position set up behind two broken iron grates laid in as cover. 

“Have you found the prisoners?”

He shook his head. “Best guess is they’re inside the vault that’s locked too tight for our tech to break. General Skywalker summoned his astromech, but it’ll take it a while to get here from their shipwreck.” 

“Right. Probably wiser than trying to force someone—” she suddenly ducked as though she knew the blaster shot was coming, then turned around to take out the B1 across the chamber who fired it— “to open it. Have you found their leader?” 

“Not officially, but I think I know who it is.” 

“Who?” 

“Smart, that one,” came a voice from her left that sent chills down her spine. Sol turned and took a shot at its source before she even thought about it, but the figure in gut-wrenchingly familiar beskar armor and a Mandalorian helmet sidestepped it. He was expecting her response. 

And well he should, she thought.

“Ni kumeh jima kyr'amur gar,” she spat, feeling an electric wave of anger ripple through her. Something else came with it, like disgust only it ran deeper than that emotion usually did. 

“Yes, you should’ve,” B'arin Apma said, infuriatingly calm.

“Wait, you know this guy?” Rex asked from below, his voice colored with shock. “Well enough you almost killed him?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Sol growled. “Never thought I’d see this hut'uun again to try. Must be my lucky day.” 

“Before you die trying, there’s someone here I want you to meet.” Apma’s helmet tilted up and above them, and Sol followed it up near the top of the chamber to her right where another Mandolorian was suddenly standing. 

“Sol Tannor,” he said through his helmet vocoder, voice much deeper and even more authoritative than Apma’s. “Once of Clan Tannor, serim?”

She took half a step back, trying to keep both of the Mandos within the wide view of her helmet visor. “You gonna introduce yourself?” she asked the newcomer, squinting to try to make out the pattern on his armor. The light in the room was too much for nightvision, but too dim for her to see anything but its rust-red hue clearly.

“I am Thar Vizsla, of House Vizsla. But it’s been some time since we last saw one another. I don’t expect you to remember me,” he replied, and she froze with every instinct she had now trained on him.

“Kyr'tsad,” she breathed. 

“Indeed,” he replied.

“Sol,” said Rex’s voice in her ear, and she saw on her HUD it was coming from the 501st’s private channel rather than echoing outside. “That guy’s the leader, not the first one.”

“Get your men out of here, Rex,” she replied, tone soft despite the fact that nobody but the clones in their helmets could hear her. She knew what could happen once this fight started, and she wanted no more of these men dead, especially not wounded ones. Especially not Rex.

“We have to hold this line—”

“The rest of your men are upstairs and my squad is with them. Go back towards the vaults. Get whoever is in there out. That’s the only line that matters until our backup gets here.” 

For a second that felt like an age Rex was silent, deliberating. “Alright. I’ll move them back into the tunnels.” She felt one tiny pang of relief; the captain would keep the other troopers out of the chamber as well, until there was a clear opening for attack. It seemed to release something, like a dam cracking to let more of her anger start to spill and move through her on the heels of her chronic aches and pains. 

“I didn’t know the Death Watch were moonlighting as Separatist guard dogs,” she finally said to Thar Vizsla, tone acrid. 

“Told you, this one’s nehutyc,” Apma said, full of smug superiority as he had always been. She didn’t spare him a glance; something else was making her old trainer especially confident, for someone who’d already had her knife a centimeter from his throat once before. Something beyond just having a Vizsla on his side.

“Knowing her father, I expected nothing less,” the other Mando said. “Did he never mention my name to you, girl?” 

“Only your house name, and only when he was spitting.” Sol was getting tired of this game, but her pride was still too fierce to simply ask. 

“Interesting,” Vizsla hummed. “I was the one tasked with the execution of your mother.” 

Her very spirit clenched up inside her, too shocked to find words or even a single emotion to latch onto. The world seemed to pause around her, as though it were watching horror, fear, disgust all storm her heart for a moment. Then one single feeling loomed, terrible and relentless and wildly clear. 

Hatred. 

“Shabuir,” she hissed at him, knuckles white under her gloves where she gripped her blasters. 

“There’s no need to be rude, girl. It was a matter of justice.”  

“For what?” Her contempt was palpable, remorseless. “What crime did she commit to reap your so-called justice?” 

“She aided a jetii in placing Satine Kryze on the throne of Mandalore,” Vizsla replied, voice grave and certain as stone. “She was aruetii. ”

“Perhaps she grew weary of your definition of justice,” Sol spat back. 

“She knew full well the risk she took, what the consequences would be!” For the first time, the Mando’s solemn assurance was cut with a spark of anger. 

“And I’ll still avenge her,” Sol replied, shoving her Deeces back into their holsters and pulling a short metal staff off her back where it had been patiently awaiting her time of need from the start of the mission. “And everyone else you’ve harmed in the name of justice.” 

“Sol!” Rex’s voice came from the comm again, tinged with panic. “What are you doing?” 

Before she could reply, she heard a door opening up high on her left as Anakin of all people bounded through it onto a high grate. He peered over the edge, then across at Vizsla, then back down. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, brash and demanding as ever. “Sol—?”

She was already moving, no longer interested in anything but putting a hole clean through Thar Vizsla’s throat. She leapt up the stairs, boots clanging against the iron, and pressed the release on her staff. Two yellow blades leapt out of either end, humming as she spun and deflected a shot aimed at her by Apma. It was the lightsaber staff of the Jedi Temple Guard, still familiar and fluid in her hand. She barely heard the commotion below her or on the comm, her vision bent utterly on her mother’s murderer.

His first two shots she sent back towards him; the second was aimed neatly for his chest, but the beskar armor rendered it harmless. Just as she closed in, his body rose from the grate as he ignited his JT-12 jetpack and sailed away from her. She felt herself snarl, a sound of pain and fury unleashed from her gut. He spun midair and unleashed a volley of blaster shots; she deflected the first few, but the last one caught her on the shoulder. It knocked her back, sending sparks everywhere and blurring the data on her HUD for a moment. She heard Rex’s shout of dismay from below. 

“COWARD!” she roared, leaping down from the high platform after Vizsla. His helmeted head jerked back in surprise; her armor was blaster-proofed and shielded, which he hadn’t expected. She spun the staff as she landed hard on another platform. Pain screamed up from her knees and ankles, but she almost didn’t notice. All around her were sounds of combat. Spinning more errant blaster fire away, she sprinted along the platform towards him with single-minded focus. 

Something monstrous had seized her, a frantic and furious energy she’d only felt once before. Reaching out towards Vizsla where he hovered, she felt the air around her move as though her rage parted its very atoms. 

The Mando’s body flew abruptly backwards into the permacrete wall, crushing his jetpack and sending smoke out from its exhausts. She felt the crunch of his armor in her bones, though the Mandalorian steel didn’t yield like most any other material would have. Now there was enough light for her to see the jai’galaar emblem of his clan etched into his breastplate. For a moment it was like she held him there just to gaze at it and remember her father’s pain.

She didn’t see him tug another, smaller pistol out of a pouch on his thigh, and didn’t quite register the strange sound of it firing three times until a sudden pain blossomed in her right shoulder in the tiny open place below her pauldron. It knocked her breath out of her lungs, driving into her flesh rather than burning through it. She staggered backwards, and her hold on Thar Vizsla vanished; he fell out of her field of vision as she gritted her teeth against whatever he’d shot her with. 

“SOL!” She had no idea who was shouting, but she pushed herself to turn and descend the nearest platform stairs as adrenaline gripped her pounding heart. Everything was blurred, and this time she knew it was her eyes and not the visor of her helmet. Somewhere nearby she saw Anakin’s blue blade singing through the air, then Ahsoka’s twin green ones. 

Something was propelling her beyond the pain. She watched her left arm spin the lightsaber staff to deflect blaster shots she didn’t have to turn to see. The hate was so pure, so unbridled that it carried her all the way down almost to the floor of the chamber where she ripped her helmet off with a growl, seeking her target. Finally her eyes lit on Vizsla’s crumpled form. At least one of his legs was broken, and he was raising his pistol again. She could almost see down the barrel. 

Before she had to duck, a bolt of blue plasma struck his hand and knocked the weapon a few meters away, clattering against the floor as it went. 

“He’s down, sir,” said Rex’s voice, and she glanced over to see the Captain with his blaster in-hand. Vizsla looked up, first at him and then at Sol as she approached and loomed over him. 

“Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa,” he said in a low, strained voice that drew ragged breaths between each word. “You may not claim your heritage, Tannor, but it’s in your blood. It still lives in you. If you kill me now, doubly so.”

“Well done, Rex,” came Anakin’s voice echoing between the layers of grated platforms. “We’ve got the other one, and General Tapal’s given us the all-clear above. Cuff him, and—”

The sound of a glowing yellow blade plunging through Vizsla’s neck interrupted the string of orders. He couldn’t even choke, only gurgle as the saber seared into the permacrete behind him. There were more clipped shouts of dismay. Sol leaned in close to his helmet, teeth bared. 

“Osi’yaim, this is my justice. Not yours.” 

When she turned the staff off his body slumped further towards the ground, limp. She had turned towards Rex and even taken a couple of steps before the power that had been carrying her finally dropped its hold. The Force could find no more hate to feed from.

“Sol!” Rex exclaimed as she stumbled to her knees, keening forward onto her hands as the staff hit the ground. She felt him grip her shoulders and tug her back upright. When his hand drew away from her wound, the palm of his glove was soaked with something dark. “We need a medic, now!” 

The next voice she heard was Grip’s, his familiar hand gently touching her head as he came around from behind her and took a knee. 

“Sarge, you still with me?” he asked, taking her face in his gloved hands. 

“Su'cuyi, vod,” she murmured. The unfamiliar pain was washing over her in waves, each one worse than the last. 

“She’s bleeding,” Rex said, pulling off his glove to look at the red on his hand. “What the kriff did he shoot her with?” 

“I don’t know,” the commando muttered in reply, palming her shoulder gingerly. She hissed when his touch drew a sharp sting.

“Metal slug,” Sol said through her teeth, by way of explanation. 

“Seriously? A bullet?”

“Useful against jetiise,” she replied with a wan grin. “Need to remove it before bacta.”

“In that case, we better get you out of here quick.” Grip’s tone had shifted into one she only heard when he was in serious medic mode.

“What about the prisoners? Did you find them?” Sol asked, slightly offended that they might not include her in the actual completion of their mission.

“They’re being released as we speak,” Rex assured her. “The 13th battalion arrived just in time to save the last hundred and fifty or so of my men. Everything’s fine, verd’ika.” He was relieved, almost laughing. It felt like the wrong time for her stomach to flutter at the fond diminutive, but damned if it didn’t go ahead and flutter anyway. “‘Cept I think the General planned to interrogate the man you just killed, so he might be a bit disappointed.” 

“Good luck interrogating a Mandalorian,” she chuckled. Grip was moving, kneeling beside her to push under her good arm and raise her to standing. “How’s my squad?” 

“Stone caught some shrapnel in his arm and leg, but he’ll be alright,” he told her as he steered her towards the nearest exit that would lead them outside again. “Bloody messy, though, just like you.” 

“Long as he’s okay,” she replied faintly. “Grip, I’m cold.” 

“That’s… not great,” he murmured, frowning. “Can I carry you? We need to handle this bullet fast.”

“‘Lek. ” As soon as she said it he moved to scoop her up into his arms. She felt a resounding gratitude that the clones were all strong enough to carry her when she was in full armor, even if it came with an abundance of jokes about how short she was. 

“So this means you didn’t dislocate a rib, huh?” he teased her.

“Oh, shut up.” She tried to roll her eyes, but they weren’t very open anyway. 

“We can’t even count this entire mission as a real one now, you know. The boys are gonna be so disappointed.” 

“Does a kriffing bullet not make up for it?” 

“I dunno, I guess we’ll have to have a vote…”

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

Inside the GAR barracks mess hall, white and blue armor was shifting like a flock of birds as the survivors of Talasea chatted with one another and stood idly awaiting their cue. The rest of the mess was empty, as it was between noon and dinner. They lingered between the long table lines, and in front of them in a slightly more open space stood General Skywalker, Padawan Tano, General Jaro Tapal, and his Padawan, Commander Cal Kestis. Cal was about Ahosoka’s age, but standing next to the big Lasaat he looked tiny and nervous. But his eyes were watchful, and if a brief moment on the field had shown Rex anything it was that he was quickly adopting the discipline of his master. 

“They’re late, aren’t they?” asked Fives from near the front of the milieu. 

“Hungry, vod?” Jesse asked, chuckling. 

“No, I’m just ready to have a party!” 

“You’re always ready to do that,” Echo said. 

“Yeah, but this time there’s a reason to,” Fives replied. “We actually have something to celebrate.”

“Dunno if celebrate is the right word for losing that many men,” Rex muttered. “But don’t let me rain on the parade.”

“He’s just happy we came and saved him and Jesse from the vault full of Bothans,” Kix chimed in, nudging Fives in his side. 

“I sure am,” the ARC trooper agreed.

“That does feel like something to celebrate, but maybe that’s just us,” Jesse said. Rex rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Just don’t get into trouble and make me wish I’d left you there.” At that moment, his commlink chirped. “Alright, men! Attention!” 

Almost as one, the group of men went from a murmuring sea of armor to rigid, orderly lines between the long tables, facing the front with their helmets under their arms. Glancing over to the entrance to the mess, Rex swallowed against his sudden nerves. 

Cronos Squad filed in innocently enough, all wearing casual off-duty duds. Bringing up the rear was Sol, her long white hair braided down her back. Someone, probably one of her squadmates, had tucked red flowers from the queen’s heart bushes that lined the nearby city greenwalk into the braid. She looked so beautiful that a pang shivered through his heart, unexpected and a little jarring. When she stopped and stared at the soldiers all facing her and saw the four Jedi standing with Rex in front of them, her hand clapped over her mouth. 

“C’mon, Sarge!” urged Swift, his gleeful little smile mirrored one way or another by all the other commandos. He took her hand and pulled her towards the little assembly while her golden eyes darted between almost everyone she could look at in that moment. Her hand fell, revealing an expression of bewilderment that bordered on exasperation.

“Sergeant Tannor,” Skywalker began, a genuine smile on his face, “we wanted to have a little, ah, informal ceremony to honor you and all the members of Cronos Squad.” 

“You knew about this!” she leveled at Swift before casting the same look at the other three who had all fallen into a line behind her. None of them seemed at all remorseful, of course.

“Your actions were more than commendable on Talasea, troopers,” General Tapal said in his low, resonant voice. “The Jedi council agrees, they are worthy of the highest honor.”  

“My men have faced down a lot of bad odds,” Skywalker said. “But these were astronomical. We honor the lives lost on Talasea, and we also honor the lives saved.”

“The Bothans we released were all part of the Spynet,” Ahsoka chimed in, one of her nearly-childlike radiant smiles on her face. “We’ve fought to protect them from Separatist coercion before, but apparently you helped us find almost every missing Bothan the network was aware of, as well as the source of a lot of bad intel since the war began.”

“I thought you might hate it if we called a whole big assembly,” Anakin added, looking directly at Sol. “Besides, most of the GAR is deployed anyway. But we couldn’t not express our gratitude and respect for the risks you took.” 

Cal was walking towards the squad members carrying a handful of little medals. Starting at the end of the line, Rex watched each commando bend down so the young commander could slip the awards over their necks; Stone, tall as he was, actually took a knee. When he arrived at Sol, she smiled.

“Hello again, Cal,” she said. The boy’s face lit up.

“You remember me!”

“Of course I do.” She bowed her head forward, and he placed the last medal around her neck. “It looks like we have some catching up to do,” she added as she stood upright again. 

Cal nodded vigorously. “I’m a Padawan now. Soon, I might get to be a knight!”

Rex felt a twist in his stomach at the thought of such a young boy being knighted long before anyone should have such responsibility-- before he was supposed to be, even by Jedi tradition, all for the sake of a war. 

“The Order is lucky to have you,” Sol replied, her hand resting on the little gold medallion around her neck absently. “Thank you, Cal Kestis.” The boy bowed as she nodded, mutual respect conveyed by two radically different cultures, and then he returned to his master’s side. Her eyes followed him, lighting on Tapal. 

“I see you and my Padawan have met before,” the Lasaat said, chuckling. 

“He was the first person in the Jedi temple to have dinner with me,” she replied, grinning at Skywalker as though they shared a secret. Cal just giggled. Ahsoka looked appropriately confused, but said nothing. 

“Sergeant Tannor, we also wanted to award you a special honor.” Rex said, and his voice was quieter than he’d intended. The way her eyes widened just barely as she looked at him kicked up his nervousness. “Those of us who witnessed you take down the lead Mandalorian bounty hunter all agree that what you did was… ridiculously reckless.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head. “Which is quite often a synonym for incredibly brave.”

Now her eyes confused him a little; they seemed frozen, uncertain. Then they darted over to Skywalker, seeking some understanding he couldn’t place. 

“I… Anakin, I was angry,” she said ever so quietly, almost anxiously. “It was my anger that let me do what I did.” 

His general’s look was one of total acceptance. “I know,” Skywalker said. “I felt it. But your anger protected all the prisoners, over seventy-five wounded men, and the rest of us by extension. Master Kenobi told me about the Death Watch once. You took a massive risk, with or without your anger. These men,” and he nodded over to the 501st, “want to honor you for that.” 

Now she was looking over at the clones, all their faces the same and yet all so very different. Rex’s brothers, who she’d protected just the same way he would. 

“When I order the wounded to fall back, it’s because I’m looking at an enemy I’m not sure I can defeat,” Rex said to her. “You took one look at that enemy and faced him head-on. That’s what our trainers called ramikadyc— persistence, courage, and loyalty.” Now her eyes were back on him, wide and soft, and he wondered if he was melting into the floor as much as he felt like he was. Taking his own helmet in his hands and holding it out towards her, he beamed. She looked down, directly at the jaig eyes.

“Rex—”

“Commander Cody gave me his blessing to give you the honor of these,” he said before she could come up with some objection. “You might not want them, I know that. They’re part of a culture you never belonged to. But they’re also part of our culture, the clones of the GAR, and we offer them because of what they mean to us.”

Her tiny hands were reaching out, tips of her fingers tracing one of the painted eyes before she took the helmet from him. When she looked back up, there were tears in her eyes. 

“Ori’vor’e, Captain Rex,” she said before looking out at the troopers in their white and blue, and then back at her own squad. They were all four beaming just the way Rex was, and Swift and Grip might’ve had tears in their eyes, too. When she turned back towards the Jedi, she gave them that nod of hers. “And to you, Generals and Commanders.”

“Don’t mention it,” Skywalker grinned, and Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Sol looked back down at the helmet, and for a split second, everything was quiet.

“Cro-nos,” started Fives quietly. “Cro-nos, Cro-nos, Cro-nos!” And before long the entire company was chanting, raising fists and clapping as they cheered. The din rang through the large mess hall, and finally a huge, overwhelmed smile cracked over Sol’s face even as she wiped her tears away before they had time to fall. 

“I’m gonna need my helmet back, by the way,” Rex said to her with a grin. “It was just symbolic.” She actually laughed, a sound that bounced around in his heart long after it stopped. Suddenly her team was all around her, rushing up from behind to clap hands on her shoulders and ruffle the top of her hair, though when Swift knocked a flower out of it he immediately picked it up off the floor and replaced it in her braid. 

“You deserve it, little’un,” Stone said, all gentle praise. Rex watched him rub his hand across her back, for the first time noticing acutely the easy and comfortable way they touched each other. He glanced away for a moment, not entirely sure it made sense or was right for him to feel a pang of envy. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Skywalker asked as he approached their group, the semi-formal arrangement of the room lost to the milling about of the troops. 

“Better,” Sol replied. “Bet I’m the first person to get shot with a metal bullet in a thousand years, and I’m not even a Jedi.” 

“Not as pleasant of an honor as the medal it got you,” he chuckled. “I have to go back to the offices to meet with Master Obi-Wan, but I had to be here to give you this, Sol. Thank you for protecting my men like I would. All of you.” 

She just nodded, and glanced back at Rex’s helmet. Skywalker touched her shoulder gently before he headed off, and Ahsoka followed behind him and threw the commandos a wave. Tapal and Cal approached next, though not so closely. 

“We’ll have to know each other better sometime, Sergeant,” the Lasaat said as they made their way out of the mess. 

“I look forward to it,” Sol smiled. Rex noticed that Fives, Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, and Echo had been in a huddle that was now breaking up and all heading his way. 

“So, we were thinking,” Fives started, “it might be fun to go out to 79’s tonight and celebrate the victory and your honors and everything. And it’s only right that we invite you all to come with us!” 

“Yeah, I mean much as we’re relieved to not be prisoners anymore, really this is about you guys,” Jesse said, glancing at each of the commandos in turn. 

“Exactly! What d’ya say?” Fives had his charming smile on, one Rex had seen countless times. It only seemed to reap the desired returns about half the time, but that never stopped him. 

“Absolutely,” Twofer said immediately. 

“I’ll go,” Swift added. Grip and Stone both looked dubious. 

“I dunno—”

“C’mon, please!” Fives cut Grip off earnestly, almost bouncing on his heels. “It’ll be fun! We can actually hang out instead of just get fired at by clankers for once!” 

“Plus, Echo’s hilarious when he’s drunk,” Hardcase added mischievously. 

“Glad someone thinks so,” Echo murmured. 

“Captain Rex, won’t you come with us?” Fives asked, his eyes turning to his CO. Rex felt himself go stiff, head already shaking.

“Nah, you know I’m not much of a party guy.”

“This once, sir!” Swift pleaded. There was a whole noise of similar sentiments on the heels of the commando’s words, and Rex held up his hands. 

“Listen, I’m no fun at these things—”

“Me neither,” Grip said. “If you go, I’ll go. We can be not-fun together.” 

“I’ll join you,” Stone added with a little chuckle. “Since there’s a not-fun table.” Rex inhaled deeply, looking between his persistent men and the squad for one long, conflicted moment. 

“Sol?” he asked, falling back on the age-old method of deflecting the question to someone else. Her mouth was quirked thoughtfully, and she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“C’mon Sarge. Hang out with us!” Fives insisted, making pitiful eyes at her. 

“If Grip and Stone are going, you gotta go too, you know that right?” Swift’s face was a facade of seriousness. “It’s what any vod would do.” 

“They are making a mighty sacrifice of their comfort, vod’ika,” Twofer said, mirroring his brother’s false piety. Sol rolled her eyes, but her smile was back. 

“Alright. Fine. I’ll go.” This was met with cheers, and Rex felt himself soften. 

“I guess if everyone’s in, I’m in too,” he said, and more cheers piled onto the last. “Dress code?” 

“Whatever you want, sir, you know at 79’s it doesn't matter,” Fives told him cheerfully. “I’m gonna make sure I look fantastic, of course.” 

“Wayii,” groaned Sol suddenly. “I forgot about getting dressed.” 

“Sarge, we wouldn’t let you go out unprepared,” Swift assured her. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, anyway. Half the time we’re all in our armor.”

“More than half the time,” Jesse said. “But not tonight, no sir.”

“I might just wear my armor, to be honest,” Echo said with a nervous giggle. 

“Not if I can help it,” Fives threatened, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, fine, you lot, just go figure it out,” Rex said, waving them all off. “We gotta get outta here before the staff get tired of us loitering. What time is this thing?” 

“We’ll message you when we figure it out, sir,” Fives said with a dutiful salute. Then his men were scampering off, full of their usual joyful irreverence. Sometimes Rex thought he had all the seriousness in the entire 501st. He looked back at Sol finally, catching her gaze. She smiled, and held his helmet out towards him. 

“I guess I’ll see you later,” she said. He took the helmet, still beaming in spite of himself. 

“Till then.” 

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, 79’s Clone Bar

The inside of the bar was like another universe to Sol Tannor. It wasn’t like the shady outer rim cantinas, full of lurking promises and jingling coin pouches, quiet right up until someone got punched or shot. The music was louder, blaring over speakers instead of from a band, and the lights were moodier. It felt like being inside a beating heart, she thought. The bass thudded through her bones and she couldn’t decide if she was soothed or agitated by it. And her knees still hurt more than usual, two days after her hard landing on Talasea.

She’d lingered outside for a moment before Swift tugged her into the bar with him, trying to collect her thoughts and steel herself for whatever experience she was about to have. But her boys were excited; even Grip and Stone had warmed to the idea. They were casually dressed, whereas Swift and Twofer were both emanating their particular kinds of chaotic, flirtatious energy. 

Sol had no idea what kind of energy she was emanating. It felt like pure discomfort to her. But Stone stood close as the clubgoers gathered around the bar like hungry scalefish around a fresh carcass, and that made her feel better. She also hadn’t realized until that exact moment that she kept looking around the bar for a certain blond head to appear. She wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the honor of the jaig eyes felt… strange. And it was still on her mind.

“You want something, Sarge?” Twofer asked, turning back towards her from his stool perch. 

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I’m not much of a drinker.” 

“Just one?” Swift asked, pouting. “For the celebration?”

“Besides, if some asshole starts bothering you, every clone in here will kick their ass.” Twofer was grinning as he stirred his drink absently. “If you didn’t kick it first, of course. Maybe even then.” 

“Wait, you’re Cronos Squad!” The barkeep had come back around, another clone. “You got folks waiting for you over there.” He pointed over to a long booth where she saw the 501st boys waving. 

“Guess we’re fashionably late,” Swift chuckled. 

“Your drinks are on the house, Sarge,” the barkeep added to Sol. “Food, too.”

“Oh, uh, th-thank you,” Sol stammered, slightly flustered. “Well, okay. Give me a beer, and something huge to eat. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s real food. I’m so sick of dry rations I could scream.” 

“That’s our girl,” Twofer said. By the time Grip and Stone were ordering, her beer had arrived-- and so had Fives. 

“Come sit!” he urged her with buoyant excitement. His tan skin was just a little flushed, that redness that she knew meant he’d had a few already. “They’ll bring your food over, don’t worry.” 

A chorus of greetings made rings around the table as Fives ushered her into the booth. Once she’d slid in all the way next to Kix, she finally looked up from the booth and directly into Rex’s eyes. 

“Oh! Hey, Captain,” she said, smiling. 

“You don’t have to call me that here, y’know,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head. He was wearing at least the top of his blacks, the high neck and long sleeves clinging gently to his muscular form. “Unless you really want to.”

“Been around your vode to much, it’s rubbing off on me,” she replied. “But it’s also to be respectful.” He just smiled back at her. 

“You look nice,” he said after a moment. Sol felt her cheeks get a lot warmer, glancing down at her outfit as though she’d just remembered she wasn’t in her armor. The squad (Swift, mostly) had settled on something simple; a high-neck, sleeveless jumpsuit in navy blue that fit her well, with just a little gold detailing. They’d left the flowers in her hair when she insisted that she wasn’t interested in jewelry. 

“Thanks. Better take a holo, because I’m never letting those boys dress me ever again.” 

“Why not?” 

“You wouldn’t believe how long it took,” she laughed. 

“It was worth it, though, right Captain?” said Swift as he appeared and slid down the booth next to her. “Here’s your order, by the way, Sol’ika.” 

“It was absolutely worth it,” Rex confirmed, rubbing his neck again. Instead of focusing on how much warmer that made her face, she elected to pay attention to the plate of honest-to-gods food in front of her. 

“Wayii. Maybe I should leave the barracks more often,” she said as she immediately picked up her fork and began to tuck in. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Swift grinned. 

By the time the rest of her squad had arrived and the 501st had all lavished their praise on her for being able to eat that much that quickly, Sol was getting comfortable. The beer was settling in slowly around the food, so she ordered another one. 

“You gonna dance with us, love?” Kix asked, leaning onto the table with his elbow to look more directly at her. “Now your shoulder’s all better?”

“Er,” Sol said. 

“You really should,” Swift urged from her other side. “It’s just good fun.” 

“I might stick it out here in the booth,” she replied, shrugging. Her limbs felt a little loose, but not in a bad way. Her knees ached a little less. Still, she wasn’t sure about dancing in general. 

“It’s okay, I don’t really dance either,” Rex said. For a split second, his words caught her dead still with the thought of dancing… with him. She tucked that thought away behind another swallow of her drink.

“Another thing which should be remedied!” Kix insisted. “Come on, Rex.”

“I just don’t love the idea of flopping around out there by myself like a one-winged mynach!” 

“You can dance with someone, you know,” the medic pointed out. 

“Yeah, that’s an option,” Swift agreed. 

“Nah, s’not,” Rex murmured, shaking his head and taking his own awkward swallow of beer. “That’d be even worse.”

“Sir, you’re too hard on yourself! Plenty of people here tonight, I’m sure we can find someone who’d enjoy dancing with you.” Kix’s smile was suspiciously innocent, Sol thought. “Plus it’s not like you have to impress anybody. I mean, just look at Fives.” 

In all fairness, Fives was out on the dance floor at that precise moment, aggressively not trying to impress anybody. He moved with more enthusiasm than grace, and sang along drunkenly with the song that was playing. 

“Well, that honestly makes me feel a little better about it,” Rex chuckled. “Maybe.” 

“Sol, I’ll dance with you,” came Stone’s voice from Swift’s other side. She smiled at the big clone.

“I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, vod.” 

He just shrugged. “Well, I’ve never danced much. Maybe we’ll find out we like it.” 

“Stone, you are a true brother,” Swift said, leaning on one of his big shoulders. Sol was grinning now. Dancing with someone who never made her feel anything but safe was the best first step she’d never thought of. It really might turn out to be fun. 

“Okay. Only as long as you want to, though.” 

“Well, report back,” Rex said with a grin. “I’ll do recon from here.” 

-----

Three more beers and several dances later, Rex was still sitting there watching her as he conversed easily with Grip and whoever else was at the booth for a respite. Sol’s first turn with Stone had been silly and awkward at first, but they’d laughed the entire time. Fives had promptly stolen her after that, spinning around all jovial fun. He was so intent on not making her feel uncomfortable, despite being drunk, that by the end of their dance she'd taken his hands and they were swinging about, giggling. Jesse was next, and then his brothers pushed Echo out onto the floor and she’d spent their song chatting a little and trying (successfully) to make the shyer clone laugh. Swift and Twofer had both swung by on their tours of the dance floor, picking her up and spinning her around in the air or taking her up in absurdly formal stances and rocking around between everyone else. Then, Kix had appeared-- and his pretty smiles and smooth charm had her smiling back. By the time she staggered back to the booth she was laughing and her skin was aglow. 

“You need some water?” Rex asked, sliding closer to that end of the booth. “That looked like a real workout.” 

“Yes,” she nodded, “and one last drink, I think, before I call it a night.” 

“I’ll get it,” Grip said as he slid out of the booth, touching her arm as he went. The way that Cronos Squad all communicated via passing touches just kept getting more and more obvious the more Rex saw it. Some part of him ached for that, for the human contact he wasn’t very good at accepting these days, that he now missed more acutely than ever before. It was such a strong urge that he’d spent the last three songs debating joining the dance floor. Maybe even asking Sol.

Which was, of course, a terrible idea. He was about four beers in, though, so he was beginning to side-eye terrible ideas as though they might just be regular old bad ideas. 

“Rex, how are you?” asked Sol suddenly, leaning on the table with her elbows where she stood. It dawned on him that she was just a little drunk, too. Her eyes were less guarded than usual as they gazed up at him.

“You know, I’ve been so much worse,” he said. 

“You’re not lonely over here in the booth, are you?” 

The question caught him off-guard. “Uh, no, not at all! Your squad is excellent company. Plus, Fives swings by once in a while to tell us how wonderful we are and how glad he is we’re here.” Sol laughed. 

“He is a sweet drunk, I noticed.” 

“He is,” Rex agreed, his smile growing fond. Fives was a lot of boisterousness wrapped around a big heart, after all. “They all are, really.” 

“What about you? You’re not a sad drunk, are you?” The amount of genuine concern on her face surprised him, like she was worried about him. It only made him feel the strange distance between himself and everyone else there even more keenly. 

“No, no, not at all,” he lied. Not usually, at least, he thought to himself. Grip sailed up with two glasses and put them both on the table beside Sol. 

“Water first, please,” he told her with a smile. 

“Alright, alright,” Sol giggled. Rex watched as she knocked the entire glass back in one go. 

“Perfect. Thank you.” Satisfied, Grip made his way around to the other side of the booth to continue talking to Stone and Kix, who had stopped dancing for long enough to chat with the two less extroverted members of Cronos Squad. Sol slid into the booth opposite Rex, still leaning forward on her elbows. Still looking at him with slightly glassy golden eyes. 

“Vor’e, alor’ad,” she said with a sigh, starting in on her final beer. He raised an eyebrow. 

“For what?” 

“For what you did today.”

“Oh, that?” He smiled. “It was truly the least we could do.” 

“The jaig eyes…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. “I’m not sure—”

“You deserve them,” he said decidedly. “From our point of view, at least.”

For a moment, she was quiet, looking at the scratched surface of the table. “Did you hear what Vizsla said?” she asked finally. 

“About what?” He watched as murky emotions made their way over her face, none making themselves wholly clear despite the glaze of alcohol. 

“My mother.” 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I caught that. I’m sorry, Sol.” 

“For what?” she asked, looking up at him. “It was a long time ago.”

“It still hurts you, though,” he said, and immediately regretted it. Was it his place to say that sort of thing? It was so much longer ago for her than any pain like that had been for him. By comparison, all of his wounds were still fresh.

She didn’t seem offended. “Well, yes,” she sighed. He wanted to touch her, to reach out and comfort her somehow.

“Then I don’t take issue with you having justice for her.” 

“Death isn’t justice.” She was looking at her hands now, digging with one short nail into a scratch in the surface. “What I did was revenge. My mother wouldn’t have wanted me to kill him.” 

“You don’t think so?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “But my father prayed for that man’s death every day. He never stopped hurting, even though he couldn’t bring himself to seek revenge.” Her eyes like two distant suns rose up to settle on him, and they seemed much older than her face, he thought. “My father was stronger than I was.” 

“Listen, if it wasn’t justice for your mother, it was sure as hell justice for all the people we set free from those compounds,” he told her, feeling a little fierceness creep into his voice. “I was relieved when you did it, Sol. I wanted my men to be safe. I wanted no more harm to come from him.” 

Her look softened a little. “If it made you and your men feel that way, then it wasn’t a total waste.” 

“You’re awfully hard on yourself.”

“So are you,” she pointed out, half a grin peeking out of the corner of her mouth. He snorted. 

“What a pair we make, then.” He took another drink. 

“Sorry to be so serious,” she said, looking a little self-conscious all of a sudden.

“It’s alright,” he assured her gently, with profound sincerity. “I’m glad you shared what was on your mind. But we both have the eyes, now, for what that’s worth. Where are you gonna put yours?” 

“I haven’t decided. I know the helmet is traditional, but. Well.” She shrugged. 

“You’re not quite a traditional Mandalorian?” He smiled. 

“No. Neither was my mother.” 

“I remember you saying she had jaig eyes, too.”

“She did,” Sol sighed, her look distant. “She was very brave.” 

“You come by it honest, then,” he said, feeling his chest start to swell. He hoped to hear the story one day, but if he’d learned anything about this woman it was that pressing her was useless, and thus her trust was so much more deeply earned. Sol laughed into her glass before she put away most of what was left of its contents. 

“You’re very kind, Rex.” 

“I’m just calling what I see. What I’ve seen more than once, now.” 

“Keep getting into trouble and they’ll keep sending us to come save your shebs. Then you’ll see it even more,” she grinned, her mood apparently lifted. The slightly feral look she had when she was teasing like that… He pulled his high collar away from his neck with his finger. 

“If my ass needs saving, I hope it’s by you lot every time.” He had been trying to continue the joke, but all he found he could say was something a little too sincere. Now her face was bashful, almost. He looked at her, the next few words he’d considered speaking caught in his throat. 

Before the silence could get awkward, the music changed and she looked up towards the ceiling as if seeking the source of the sound. 

“I know this song,” she said, brightening. “I remember it from when I was a kid!” 

“That was before my time,” Rex said. He didn’t know the song, but it was sweet and kind of slow, like an easy breeze. 

“Hey.” She was looking intently back at him now, both hands coming down onto the table with an urgent thunk. “Dance with me.” 

He blinked at her, taken fully by surprise. “Who, me?” 

“Yes, you!”

Oh kriff, he thought.

“Are you sure?”

“Rex, please.” Her hand came out to land over his, her white brows knitting, imploring. “Just one song.” The micro-bolt of electricity that raced through his body from where she touched his hand almost made him want to jump up into the air. Through his strange haze of alcohol and longing, he felt it in his bones.

It broke his resolve, that touch. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, picking up his beer and downing the last of it in a long drought. She was already out of the booth, urging him along. He felt especially stiff as he slid out behind her, but as soon as his feet hit the floor she was pulling him over into the fray. She spun around, ever so slightly wobbling. 

“Whoa, you alright?” he asked, suddenly worried this was a worse idea than he thought.

“I’m alright,” she assured him. “Here. This is what my father said he used to do with my mother because he couldn’t dance, either.” 

Her hand placed his firmly on her hip, then slid around his waist. The other hand interlaced their fingers, and she led them in an easy sway that moved with the song through the air. Rex knew with absolute clarity that he was putty in her hands, at that moment. The part of him that wanted to run away became conspicuously difficult to hear.

“So you come by your dancing skills honest, too?” he teased, letting her lead even though he was fairly certain he’d gotten the hang of this entire dance and then some already. 

“What’s your excuse?” she laughed. 

“Lack of practice, mostly.”

“Well, I reckon this is practice, then.” 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll be good at it before the end.” His mouth was talking without him now, teasing or even challenging, but his heart was so full he didn’t quite care. 

“‘Lek? You’ll have to let Fives be the judge of that,” she said, and now he was chuckling. 

“I learned a little on my reconnaissance mission earlier, too, y’know.” 

“Really? Like what?” 

In reply, sailing right past his nerves, he stepped away from her and kept her hand in his as he gently spun her around in a circle. “Not bad, huh?”

“Very nice,” she replied as she drew back up close to him.

“Wait, I’ve got another.” Now he took both of her hands in his and twisted her around, swaying close behind her with her arms crossed in front. “This one’s temporary, I think. It seems awkward to keep your arms like this.”

“So what’s next? You twist me back around again?”

“Or I let go.” He leaned closer to her as he let his hands slip down around her waist. She smelled like the flowers in her hair and something else he couldn’t place, something peppery and rich. Even with her against him like this, every part of him ached to pull her closer. But he didn’t dare, seized with fear that he was being too familiar already. Where that fear had been moments ago, he wasn’t sure. The urge to be near her kept overriding his common sense.

When she sank back against him and laid her arms along his where they wrapped around her, that urge only seemed to increase. Of course, he wasn’t sure it wasn’t just the drink— certainly it had lubricated his willingness to take liberties, after all— and the part of him that was still trying to be rational told him not to get attached to the idea. 

It was the part that recalled what happened the last time he’d gotten attached. 

“I like this one,” she murmured, laying her head back against his chest. She was smiling and humming, eyes closed. He stared down at her, utterly taken. 

“Don’t fall asleep, now,” he said, voice low near her ear. “We’re still a long cab ride from the barracks.” 

“Mm, but I’m cozy,” she chuckled; her white lashes fluttered open anyway. “We can switch back.” And she was spinning in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck. “You are good at this, by the way.”

“That’s generous of you,” he said. “Pretty sure I need a fair bit more practice.” 

“Maybe your men are right, and you should get out more.” 

“Oh, I can practice dancing back home just fine, if I find someone to help me out.” He wasn’t sure which was worse, watching himself carry on so casually or the increasingly intense urge he had to lean down and place one reverent kiss on each of her eyelids. The two were incongruent; keeping cool and witty while his heart pounded like this should’ve been impossible. 

“Or on long hyperspace jumps?” she asked. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it kicked up his heartbeat a little.

“That, too.” 

“Oho, look who got the good captain on the floor!” Kix was drawing near, a shit-eating grin visible on his face from fifty paces. “You truly are a warrior, Sarge.” 

“Vod, don’t ruin this for me,” Rex replied flatly, and Sol snorted into his chest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Captain, but we’re about to head back to the barracks,” Kix replied. “Though, if you two wanna stay here a bit longer…” 

“We should probably go with you,” he said, feeling his back straighten, grasping desperately at the chance to break the trance he was in. Her hands slid back down off his neck, and he hated their sudden absence. “Don’t you think?” 

“You’re right,” Sol sighed. “It’s getting late. Twofer and Swift won’t come with, by the way. They’ll be out much later.”

“So will Fives and Jesse,” Kix said. “And we lost track of Hardcase ages ago. But the rest of us want to get some sleep. We can cab-pool!” 

Just that quick, the more responsible of their party were waving the others off and piling into a large cab. It slipped into the riot of air traffic, lights whooshing past the windows on an endless loop. Sol was between him and Stone, contentedly listening to Kix and Echo tell her some story. Rex wasn’t listening. He just watched her sleepy eyes blink, or wrinkle up with a smile, or widen just a little in surprise. He watched her lips forming her short replies, watched a red flower as it began to dangle precariously away from her white braid of hair that left the shaved sides visible, including the little line of the scar she’d gotten on Mashem Te. He reached over almost absently to tuck the flower back in before it fell out.

When they arrived, it was an easy walk down to the barracks. But the commando’s beds were farther down the way than his, and he caught himself before he followed them right past the door to the 501st’s wing. 

“Night, Cronos! Thanks for coming with us!” called Echo as he and Kix waved. 

“Thanks for having us!” Grip called back, turning to walk backwards for a moment. Stone’s arm was around Sol’s shoulders, and she turned her head to look back. One little hand drifted out to wave fingers back at them.

“Goodnight,” she called, her voice growing more and more airy with sleepiness. She smiled at Rex.

“Goodnight, verd’ika,” he replied, heart swimming. Then they turned the corner, and he was cut adrift. For a moment, all was quiet as he watched the empty space where they’d vanished.

“Captain,” said Kix, his tone full of theatrical scandal.

“Don’t start,” he growled.

“Sir,” Echo began, “don’t you think it’s been long enough?” 

No matter how much he tried, Rex could never get angry about questions like that from Echo. He was so damnably sincere when he asked them. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t know what ‘long enough’ means, vod.” 

“Long enough means we all know you’re lonely,” Kix said. “And we know you can handle being lonely, sir, but only when you’re not… you know. Pining.” 

“Pining?” Rex crossed his arms, brow furrowed. “I am not pining, trooper.” 

“Sir,” Kix replied like he’d never heard anything more ridiculous in his life. “You’re absolutely pining.”

“You’ve been pining for a while, now,” Echo added. 

“Jango’s bones,” Rex muttered. “Is the entire legion watching me for their gossip fodder?” 

“No, sir, we’re watching to see how you’re feeling,” Kix said, no longer joking. “Because you take good care of us, Rex. But you don’t take very good care of yourself, and we all want you to do more of that.”

“How does getting involved with someone when I could die in a battle at any time amount to ‘taking care of myself,’ Kix?” Now the edge had crept in, he could feel it getting sharp in the rift between the two halves of his heart. “I’ve been through this once before. I’ve lost enough, and I’ll keep losing my brothers every day till they lose me. That’s my duty. It isn’t a life that makes for love stories.”

“Sorry, sir,” Kix said, withdrawing a little. “I only meant that we clones have to take our happiness wherever we can find it, for that exact reason. You’ve found some, but you won’t pick it up.” 

“It wouldn’t be happy for long,” Rex sighed, and all the anger had already drained from his voice. His shoulders sagged. 

“Nothing is, sir,” Echo said gently. “It’s the short times when it is that we all live by.” 

For a moment, he had to look at the ground. His men were truly the best men in the GAR, he thought. But there was no way to explain that it had hurt too much when he’d lost someone for him to possibly give that same pain to someone else. He was built for grief, but how could he ask anyone else to be?

“Thank you, vode. But right now I think I need to sleep,” he said finally.

“Just hearing you say that makes my night, sir,” Kix said with a smile.

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Steadfast, en route to Naboo, 21BBY

Almost the instant that Anakin had turned off his holo-recorder, the door to the sublight engine room slid open with a hiss. He’d sought a quiet corner of the Steadfast to record a message for Padme, his heart having twisted up painfully with the news of her mission to Naboo. He wasn’t sure she’d even receive the message, but he’d felt compelled to send it anyway; now he wondered how he’d weasel his way out of paying the price for it. He turned, face a mask of casual authority as a figure rounded the corner of the primary twin-ion reactor. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Anakin,” said Sol Tannor when she saw him. “I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” he replied, waving a hand at her. “I was just looking for some peace.”

“Find any?” Her attempt to smile was all but pained, but he felt certain it wasn’t because of him. She put her hands behind her back, and he caught a glimpse of a handheld injector in one of them. But he decided that maybe now wasn’t the time to get curious.

“I’ll let you know when I do. You had the same idea, I take it?”

“Yeah, just wanted to be alone for a moment,” she sighed. “We have another jump after this, though it’s a lot shorter.” 

“My boys aren’t bothering you, are they?” he grinned, trying to lighten the mood. 

“No, no,” she shook her head. “It’s not like that.” 

“What’s it like, then?” He canted his head at her, listening as her tone sounded less and less like herself. “You seem a little down.” 

She glanced away from him. “I’m just thinking too much.”

“Are you worrying about what happened on Talasea still?” He’d struck home, it seemed, because she looked at him like she wished he’d not said anything. But almost as quickly he felt her hackles drop. 

“Yes. General Windu tried to train me for moments like that,” she said, rubbing her left arm with her right hand, now empty of whatever medicine she was carrying. She was in her blacks and utility belt, not even fully suited up in her armor yet. 

“How often do they happen these days?” he asked, struck with empathy. Everything was different now from when they’d both been training at the Temple, and yet some things were just the same. 

“Like that? Only once before.” 

“When your father died?” 

She looked at the floor. “Yes. Thar Vizsla killed my mother.”

“Rex told me,” he said, and her face shot up almost too quickly.

“He did?” 

Anakin chuckled, mostly because some of the 501st had caught onto what her squad already suspected after their little ceremony in the mess the other day. Now, there was nothing unclear about it-- not to him, at least. “Yes, when we debriefed I asked him what he saw of your fight. I wasn’t kidding when I said I felt your anger in there.” 

“Well,” murmured Sol, “It scared me a little, if I’m honest.” 

The ghost of Anakin’s mother lingered behind her as she admitted it, the screams of the Tusken Raiders under his powerful downward swings. He thought about how many times he’d resisted killing unnecessarily out of anger since then, and how many times the war had let him get away with it anyway. 

“Do you feel better, now that he’s dead?” he asked her in a low voice. A pregnant pause lingered while she searched her feelings. 

“Not really,” she replied finally. Of course, he’d expected that answer. He wondered what the difference was between people like her and people like him, who didn’t regret what they’d done for a moment. But he knew the emptiness that still rang inside him, too.

“Doesn’t really help, does it?” His smile was sad. She gave the tiniest laugh.

“Rex once asked me the same thing about knowing that the clones are bred to die in war. I gave the same answer then, which is no.” 

“Rex feels the losses very deeply,” the Jedi said. “Just like we all do. Must be nice to not have the Force to make you believe you can do something about it.” 

“Even the Force can’t stop loss,” Sol said matter-of-factly. The directness of it hit him harder than he expected. Because she was right, and he hated it. “I just… Love is a strange word that we don’t have in Mando’a. But it seems to be the root of everything that drove me to revenge, that day. I wish to have one without the other.” 

“What’s your word for it?” he asked, curious. 

“Kar'taylir darasuum,” she replied, a faint smile touching her lips. “It means to hold in the heart forever. But that’s just it. Someone can die, but never leave your heart. My father tried to make that enough, but I don’t think it ever was. My mother, she knew. Her death was the result of actions she took which the Death Watch deemed aruetiise— that is, traitorous to their tradition. She didn’t resist it. Accepted the consequences of her actions. I didn’t kill him for her sake— I did it for my own. For my father, and our suffering. Does love really do that?”

“Sol,” Anakin said, looking at her very earnestly. “You’re not a Jedi. You don’t have to carry the same guilt for what you did, because nobody expects you to be perfect. Not even Master Windu.” 

“It’s not about the sin of the past. It’s about my fear of doing it again in the future. Fear that next time, I won’t be aiming at a target to save anyone. The men, they were on my mind at first, but then it took over. I almost wished I’d fought him longer, hurt him more.” Her face was harried, fists clenched by her side. “Master Windu warned me about that. If it had gone on longer—”

“You’ll drive yourself mad asking ‘what if’ like that. What are you really afraid of?” He eyed her with one arched brow, starting to see the pattern of her feelings. It was so similar to his, and yet so much more subdued. But even the lightest touch of the Force seemed to swallow its users, he thought.

Her golden eyes were fixed on him, resisting the words even as she reached for them. “Afraid I can’t feel love without one day bringing harm,” she said finally, voice small. 

“Please listen to me,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to love, Sol. I know it comes with fear, too. I know how happiness seems to just stay long enough to make you break for missing it. But those moments, their potential…” He trailed off, imagining a future so vividly that he wasn’t sure it wasn’t a vision. Padme, like a beam of sunlight on a stone patio covered in vines. The laughter of their children as they raced up from behind him, running into her arms. The sun setting in a massive and lazy spill of orange and deep pink, the water of the lake tugging sweetly at the shore. A galaxy at peace, the clones free men no longer bound to the duty of death. He took a deep breath. 

“Their potential is everything. Treasure whatever you can, because once this war’s over it can become so much more,” he finished finally. She was looking at him, words sinking into her thoughts like they were beautiful and utterly baffling. He let his hand fall, remembering that she didn’t care for touch once. Maybe she did now, but he wasn’t sure, and he was technically her CO anyway. 

“I never thought about it that way,” she said. It struck him, because what she meant was I never thought I had a future. Even when he was a child, repairing droids inside the hut he shared with Shmi, he’d thought about what was ahead. What if he ran a podrace, made enough money to leave. What if he got a job. What if something happened to Watto...

“Well, now you can give it a try. Maybe watch some old holo-movies or something.” He gave a little smile. “Besides, you have what Master Windu taught you. If your track record is any indication, you have lots of time to remember his lessons before you might need them again.” 

Now she smiled back. “Vor’e, Anakin. For giving me your thoughts.” 

“You’re very welcome.” He eyed her, wondering what the little echoes of some other sadness he was sensing from her were. “If anything else is bothering you, I’m happy to listen.”

“Er,” she murmured, eyes falling downward. “It’s okay. I’m just… overthinking some personal things, I think.” 

Whatever it was she was worried about, he wasn’t going to hear it that day. “Well, the Jedi say to trust your feelings. If your thoughts get too loud, check in with those instead,” he offered with a grin. Sol nodded a little.

“One day maybe I’ll trust them.” 

“No time like the present, my friend.” 

She grinned. “Yeah, we’ll see. Be safe on your mission, General.”

“You too, Sergeant,” he replied, nodding at her before he headed towards the door. He felt something in her settle as he did, as though the empty room was all she needed to release some of what she was carrying. 

-----

Aquaris, Samo City, Samo Research Facility 7311-M

“I’ll be honest with you, vode, I hate it down here.” Twofer’s complaint was a buzz in her ear as Sol lingered among massive red fronds of kelp, watching for hostiles or curious passerby. In the great ocean that covered the surface of Aquaris, though, most of the latter were rather uninterested fish.

“Are you ever dishonest with us, Twof?” asked Grip. 

“You have a point, but I was trying not to complain this mission, and I failed.”

“Find the target, vod, and we can leave,” Sol reminded him. Her tone was lighthearted for now, seeing as they’d only been below the surface for an hour or so. The slicing had been quick enough. 

“Believe me, Sarge, I’m lookin’. But I got this funny feeling she’s not here anymore.” 

“You think our intel was bad?” asked Swift. 

“Maybe she’s just smart enough not to stop anywhere for too long,” Grip said. Sol was idly scrolling the channels on her HUD with a series of rapid blinks, scanning for any voices that weren’t supposed to be there. She watched a massive, flat fish with a broad fin slice through the water like a blade, trailed by little hangers-on that had attached themselves to its gray scales. Her squadmates were inside the transparisteel dome she was hovering over, except for Stone who was still on the surface guarding the ship. 

“You think there’s anywhere else we could get data about her movements while we’re here?” Swift asked. 

“We’ve sliced everything except the lab, but its data is on another network. Separate from the rest,” Grip replied. “Wish I’d gotten my BD unit before we came here. It coulda made quick work of it.” 

Sol smiled to herself as she heard an annoyed little noise come from Twofer. Her weapons expert hadn’t been overly fond of the idea of putting in for a BD droid, as they had a certain lack of self-preservation in the name of the exploration they were designed to do. But Grip was already enamored with the very idea of one, and full of potential uses for it. 

“I think they’d make it hard to slice even for a droid,” Twofer growled after a moment. 

“Apparently you’re gonna complain about everything you’ve been trying not to complain about today,” Swift noted. 

“Sarge,” came Stone’s voice suddenly. She gripped the Deece in her hand a little tighter, a reflex that was especially powerful when she was on guard duty. “It’s far off, but the scanners just found another ship on the surface. It’s one of ours.” 

She blinked. “Another GAR ship?”

“What the hell is that about?” Swift muttered. “Don’t they think we can do our jobs?” 

“Stone, are they using a secure channel?” she asked, ignoring the gripe. 

“Yes, for now. Nothing coming from the ship or anyone who might’ve been on it.”

“Monitor everything you can for transmissions,” she ordered. “Unless they reach out to us, it could be sabotage or infiltration of some kind.” 

“Yessir.” It was funny how they slipped in and out of protocol, how when it was a matter of the mission their training kicked in as quickly as it shut down during their habitual banter.

Apparently this news was enough to render them all into a silence pulled taut by suspicion. Sol was actually hoping they’d hear from the other vessel, especially since not having anyone for extraction meant that their shuttle was vulnerable up above, and her teammate with it. The GAR was stretched awfully thin, these days. 

The kelp danced its slow dance around her, shielding her from unfriendly eyes. Her blinks yielded nothing, no chatter she wasn’t meant to hear. It felt like a hundred years that she hung there in the depths, waiting for a report. Waiting for something to go wrong.

“We’ve got to the lab, Sarge,” Swift said finally. “Grip is slicing right now. Should be done in just a few minutes.” 

“I assume there’s no other trace of the target?”

“Nothing here. We’re hoping they offered to stow away her research, but if we find her—”

“It’s gone,” Grip said suddenly. Sol’s brow furrowed behind her visor. “The file, it just vanished!” 

“Information doesn’t just vanish, vod,” Twofer said. 

“Sure, but it’s not here. I copied about two-thirds of it, and then the connection got corrupted. I reset it, and now there’s nothing there to connect to.” 

“Kriff,” muttered Swift. “How does that happen?” 

“It’s not a self-destruct protocol, is it?” Sol asked, thinking through all the slicing she’d ever done. It wasn’t as much as she wished at that moment.

“No, my copy is still intact even though it’s incomplete,” Grip replied, totally baffled. “Unless someone removed it mid-slice, I can’t explain it.” 

“Listen, if there’s nothing else down there except that record, let’s move out. Whatever just happened, it might be connected to the ship Stone found.” 

“Aye,” came a murmur from Twofer.

Ten minutes later, an air valve lid on a piece of durasteel support that lined the clear dome flung itself open. A torrent of bubbles came out, followed by her men in their gray and red armor. Each of their helmets was modified with an underwater attachment that made it a huge pain to turn one’s head too much, and their backpacks were full of air. She kicked out of her hiding place and followed them towards the surface, watching bubbles trail off their flipper boots. They were uncharacteristically quiet as they made their ascent, watching for the long cable lines that would tow them back to the ship. 

“Got a transmission,” Stone said as Sol grabbed her line and began to sail upward, feeling her ears pop as the pressure reduced. “It’s encrypted.” 

“You can hack it, right Grip?” she asked. 

“Probably,” he replied. “Did you check to see if a GAR key would work? I mean, it’s our ship, so it’s worth a shot.” 

“I will.” Stone was brief and reliable as always, and as Sol’s head finally broke above the water, she felt relief that nothing more ominous had happened. 

The hatch on the side of the ship was open, and she hauled herself up onto the little platform it made. Swift’s armored hand reached out and pulled her inside as the hatch began to close. She tugged her bucket off and made straight for the cockpit. 

“What’ve you got, big guy?” she asked Stone, whose helmet was in his lap as he leaned over the controls on the transmitter.

“Grip was right. I put in every GAR code I know, and an old commando key opened it.” 

“I can't believe that actually worked,” Grip muttered as he approached. “Did they know we were here?” 

“Not sure,” Stone replied. “We’re cloaked, but they might’ve known where to look.” 

“They shouldn’t. This run was classified,” Sol said, frowning. “Not even the other commandos could’ve known.” 

“Play the thing, Stone,” Swift urged, hand on his brother’s shoulder plate. “Let’s see what we find out.” The transmitter crackled to life, and then a voice began to speak. 

I’ve extracted the files from Point A-5. Our intel was good; Ko Sai was here. She’s been gone for maybe four standard days, now. The files she left have details for the early alterations to the genome, but nothing more. Nothing about how they aged us, nothing about the key alterations. Nothing we don’t already know. Send me anything you’ve found when you receive this, and keep looking for her trail. Don’t get discouraged, ner vod. Our lives will be our own, not cut short by these creatures. Ni yaimpar at buir.

The thickest silence of the mission so far fell over the cabin of the little shuttle when the voice faded away. Sol met Stone’s grave look, then turned to the rest of her squad. 

“That was a clone’s voice,” Swift said at last. She just nodded. 

“What did he say at the end? Something about a father?” Grip asked, brow furrowed. Even the clones trained by Mandos didn’t know the language like she did— except, apparently, this one. 

“‘I return to father,’” she translated. “Whoever ‘father’ is.” 

“You think he could be one of the Nulls?” Twofer asked, turning to Swift and Grip.

“Aren’t they decommissioned?” Swift asked in reply. 

“Not all of them,” Stone said. 

“But if he was here on GAR business, why would he not contact us?” Twofer pointed out. 

“Hang on,” Sol interjected, confused. “What’s a Null?” 

“One of the first ARC troopers, the prototype for us,” Grip explained. “They were… well, they weren’t up to Kaminoan standards.” 

“What he means is, they talked back too much,” Twofer growled. “Too resistant to orders. Selfish, if you ask me.” 

“Yet they still operated?” Sol asked, still at a loss. 

“Kal Skirata adopted them,” Swift said. “He’s legendary for training commandos. But he stopped training before our batch. Word was that he kept the Nulls on as black ops. The ones that didn’t desert, at least. Maybe they sent this one after Ko Sai, too.” 

“It makes no sense to send a squad and a Null-ARC to the same target, even less to send them both unaware of each other.” Grip’s arms were crossed, perturbed at the fruitlessness of logic. The clones glanced between each other, and Sol ran through all the information she’d just received again and again, trying to connect the dots. Then, her face changed.

“Skirata was a Mandalorian, wasn’t he?” It was almost a rhetorical question, one that answered itself in its realization. But the boys nodded anyway. “Did you listen to what he was saying?” 

“About what?” Twofer asked, raising one cut brow. 

“About the research.” She reached over in front of Stone and backplayed the transmission. 

—Nothing about how they aged us, nothing about the key alterations. Nothing we don’t already know. Send me anything you’ve found when you receive this, and keep looking for her trail. Don’t get discouraged, ner vod. Our lives will be our own, not cut short by these creatures. Ni yaimpar at buir.

She looked between them, knowing that there was a piece she was missing that would connect all the dots. “He wanted to know something about the way they altered your genes.” 

Swift’s face had fallen incredibly solemn all of a sudden. He was looking at the floor, but not really seeing it. Sol caught the shift instantly, and watched him for half a moment before she reached out to touch his arm. 

“Vod?” she asked, voice soft enough not to break the tension in the air. 

“He’s talking about our aging,” Swift said, and he met her gaze with his strange blue eyes. “‘Our lives will be our own, not cut short.’” 

“I don’t understand,” Sol said. “Do you mean the way they make the clones grow at twice the normal rate?” 

“We also age that way,” Grip replied, and even his perpetual curiosity had fallen a little dulled. “It sounds like he thinks Ko Sai knows how to fix it. To slow the aging process back to normal.” 

Sol blinked and realized that she’d never even thought about it before, though it made sense once he’d said it. The image of thousands, hundreds of thousands of fetal clones in their birthing pods when she’d been given a cursory tour of the facilities at the start of her training flashed through her mind. She’d barely been listening to the information the Kaminoan scientist had been rattling off; the sight had been disturbing to her, though not due to the clones themselves. It was more the sterile, mechanical way in which they were grown, the way the Kaminoans spoke about them. Human beings paraded as the highest grade of military equipment credits could buy. Souls in bottles, tweaked and fine-tuned into bodies and minds that trapped them long after they were decanted. 

A shadow had fallen over the group, and she looked around at each of the men who’d taken her in as one of their own. They seemed to each be receding into thoughts she could only imagine. 

“It would make sense that a defected Kaminoan scientist is an important target if they feared she might join the Seps,” she murmured. “I guess it makes sense that her research was important, too.”

“Did they plan to use her research for us, though?” Swift sounded truly lost, like he couldn’t decide in that moment what was really at stake, here. 

“The research likely hasn’t been done, vod,” Stone said quietly. 

“Stone’s right, they’ve got no reason to study how to reverse our aging right now. They’re busy being paid to make more of us,” Grip said. “Maybe this guy just… wants to find out how to do it himself. If he gets the right data from Sai, he could find a way, or could pay someone else to.” 

“Should we report them, sir?” Stone asked her finally, and she saw a look she very seldom received from her teammates— genuine and artless expectation, as though he really was at a loss and needed a leader to guide him. 

Sol knew what they were all thinking. The probability that this Null-ARC and whoever was involved with him were here of their own accord was very high. Which meant that in observing his movements, intercepting his transmission, and divining his purpose, they were obligated to report it to their superiors. But she had a hundred questions, and this gnawing doubt in her gut. 

“No,” she decided at last. “His transmission was coded with our key. We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.” 

Eyes shifted all around her, the shuttle thick with uncertainty. But they would follow her order, she knew that. Stars knew they’d say something if they came to any serious concerns later, too. She sighed, and turned back to the big clone in the pilot’s seat.

“Wait until he’s out of the system to send our transmission to the Steadfast,” she said. “Then we’ll head to rendezvous.” He only nodded at her, and turned back to the scanners and buttons that covered the console. Outside the viewport the sky was darkening as a massive storm loomed on the horizon. She didn’t watch the others as they filed out of the cockpit to sit back in the hangar, only gazed into the oncoming darkness while a series of emotions wriggled around within her. Then, one of their scanners beeped. 

“He’s just left atmo,” Stone said. “Better buckle in, littl’un.” 

In reply, she only reached over to stroke his head gently, dusting her feeble reassurance over the man who always seemed to be reassuring her. He gave her a look that was grateful, if still lost in thought. She turned and made her way into the hangar where the other three were already strapped in. 

As she approached the seat next to Swift, a sudden and sharp pain shot up her leg from her knee. It buckled instantly, and she stumbled forward with a tiny gasp of surprise. But Swift's hand gripped her arm, the other catching her by the shoulder before leveling her back upright. His concern was plain as she took the final steps to the seat and let herself fall into it. 

“You alright, Sol’ika?” he asked, and the particular knit of his brow meant that he knew it was her knees again. 

“Floor’s wet,” she said as an old anger clamped around her jaw. This seemed to satisfy Twofer and Grip, who’d sat upright a little when she faltered but now sank back down in their seats. Swift only took in a slow breath, watching her pull the belts over her armor. She looked up at him once she was settled, trying to let her frustration go. He’d only ever wanted to help, after all. She reached over and took his hand, and felt his shoulders sag in response. The twin ions hummed to life, and slowly the shuttle started to lift away from the suck of the endless ocean, the first few drops of rain dotting its viewport in farewell. 

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Steadfast, en route to Coruscant

The clouds of Aquaris followed Cronos Squad onto the Steadfast as they filed into the ship’s medical center for their requisite post-mission exams in uncharacteristic silence. The medical droid that was attending to Sol went through the familiar routine, running scans and checking her tongue and filing away the data into her medical record. 

“Do you have anything to self-report?” it asked at the end, as always. 

“I need an injection,” she told it in a low voice. 

“Of your prescription?” 

“Yes.” She watched anxiously as it lumbered over to the wall to open a drawer, and seemed to pause, as though confused. “What is it?” she asked. 

“We appear to be out of that medication,” it replied, tone almost apologetic. “Are you in pain?” 

“Not more than usual,” she assured it quickly through the clench that had returned to her jaw. 

“I could administer a steroid—”

“No, it’s fine. That won’t help anyway.” 

“Madam,” said the droid as it came back towards her cot, and it seemed almost to lower its vocoder volume. “Your diagnosis code has no correspondence in my system. Why did someone give you this prescription?” 

“If you feel the need to clear it, you’ll have to contact the facilities on Kamino,” Sol told it, barely above a whisper. “That’s where I was diagnosed.”

“I simply wanted to be certain that you would not be damaged without the medication you requested,” it replied. She wondered for a moment if it were possible to know if a droid was lying; but it seemed very sincere. “It lists it as an as-needed injection.” 

“That’s right. But I’ll be alright until we get back to HQ.” 

“Are you certain? It is a long trip.” 

She sighed. “Yes, I’m certain. Don’t worry, I’ll head right to the Medical Center when we arrive.”

“Very well. You’re free to go. I have many patients to attend to,” it said, resetting the scanner in the wall behind her. 

“You do? Was there a battle?” 

“I am not at liberty—”

“That’s alright,” she assured it, feeling a sudden nervousness. Anakin’s men had been on this ship, exiting on Naboo before she and the boys had been inserted on Aquaris. Sliding off the cot, she began to wander down the stretch of the medical bay to peek into the alcoves. 

When she found Anakin sitting at the bedside of a beautiful young woman and a Gungan of all beings lying snoring on the cot beside them, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

“Uh, General?” she asked, not sure what company she was in or how familiar it was. He turned, and she saw the heavy eyes of the woman flicker over towards her as well. 

“I see you made it in one piece,” he said, smiling faintly. 

“I’m quite alright. But what happened to you?” 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Let me introduce you to Padme Amidala, Senator of Naboo.” 

The woman on the bed, who was so sickly pale that her skin was almost blue, weakly raised her hand to wave at Sol. “Hello,” she said, with a frail but sincere smile. 

“This is Sergeant Sol Tannor, of Cronos Squad,” Anakin informed her. “You might’ve heard a little about her.” 

“Oh, yes!” Padme said. “You and your men have done a lot for the Republic, Sergeant.” For all her apparent illness, the Senator seemed very sweet, Sol thought. 

“Mirut,” Sol replied. “Only doing my job, Senator. Are you going to be alright? What happened?” 

“Senator Amidala and Senator Binks,” Anakin began, canting his head back towards the Gungan, “just stopped a devastating virus from being unleashed on Naboo by the Separatists.” His gaze back down at Padme was one of blatant admiration.

“Oh.” Sol’s golden eyes widened a little. “That’s… wayii, that’s not what I expected.” 

“Unfortunately, myself and many of the fighters who helped us contracted the virus in the process,” Padme said. “But the antivirus is working, so we should be well soon.” 

“Well, that’s very good to hear.” 

“The, ah, the rest of my men who are recovering are down the way,” Anakin said, raising his eyebrows. “They might like to see you.” 

Sol narrowed her eyes at him, slightly confused. “Should I pay them a visit?” 

“I think you should.” Anakin’s nod was firm. “Y’know… for morale. They’re fond of Cronos Squad, after our last mission together.” 

“Alright,” she replied, smiling a little in spite of herself. “I’ll go try to cheer them up. Recover well, Senator.” She nodded at Padme, who smiled back as best she could, and turned to continue down the bay. 

And came to a dead stop when she saw a blond, close-buzzed head on one of the cots. 

“Rex!” His name leapt out of her mouth before she could stop it, and despite their sharp ache her knees carried her over to his side doubletime. She almost reached out to touch him, but pulled back, uncertain. Slowly, his head turned towards her, eyes cracking open. 

“Sol?” His voice was hoarse, and his tan skin was ashen and lined with faint blue veins.

“Did you get the virus, too?” She couldn’t help but hover close and lean a little forward onto the cot he was laid out on. They’d stripped him of his armor and left him in his blacks with a blanket up to his waist, and little sensors were attached to his temples. He nodded and swallowed hard, as though his throat were swollen. “Oh, Rex. I’m sorry. It looks bad.”

“S’alright,” he replied, and he tried to smile. “Feeling better than I was.” 

“The antivirus?” 

“Well, that and it’s nice to see you, since we didn’t run into each other on the way here.” 

Sol felt her heart skip a beat, and then immediately deflated with a wave of guilt. She’d sort of been avoiding white and blue armor on the ride in, in fact she’d been avoiding everyone she could when she’d stumbled on Anakin in the engine room. Now, she worried she’d done something rude. 

“I’m sorry. Wish I’d found you before, to say good luck.” 

“Ah, well,” he murmured, mouth twisting sheepishly. “That was my fault. Just… left too many things to do at the last minute.” 

An awkward pause fell over them, and Sol looked away as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Had the Captain been making himself scarce, too? 

“But you’re here now,” Rex said finally, as though offering them a way out of their confused moment. “That’s what matters, right?” She looked back at him, and his smile was heartening. 

“You’re leaving out the part where you thought for sure that you were gonna die to make me feel better, aren’t you?” she asked wryly. 

“I mean, I think that’s a given.” That made her chuckle.

“Who else got sick, other than the senators and you?” 

“A lot of my men,” he replied. “And Commander Tano.” His eyes cut across the alcove, and Sol looked over to realize she’d completely missed the Togruta girl who was lying unconscious on the other cot. Even her rusty orange skin was traced with blue lines. 

“Oh, no,” Sol muttered, her heart sinking. “Poor thing.” 

“She’ll make it, if I know her,” Rex said. But his eyes hung a little anxiously on her small form, as though he feared that for some reason the antivirus wouldn’t work. Sol knew that lingering fear, the fear that meant she always had to see her men recovered before she really believed it. She put her hand on the edge of the bed almost without thinking.

“She’s strong,” she assured him gently. “If she’s Anakin’s padawan, she’s stubborn as hell too, which also helps.” 

Rex was chuckling. “You’re right about that.” He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “So, what were you getting up to?” 

“Tragically, I can’t tell you,” she replied. “It’s classified. You know, commando stuff.” 

“Oho?” Now he looked back at her, and there was a wry attempt at a grin on his face. “What about you isn’t a mystery, huh?” 

“Listen, alor’ad, I just want to get to know people before I tell them everything about myself.” But she was grinning now too, and her cheeks were warm.

“So, you want people to tell you everything about themselves before you’ll return the favor?” 

“Pretty much.”

“Nevermind they’ve entered into life-or-death scenarios by your side, or saved your life once or twice?” 

“I thought my squad were the ones who saved your battalion!” 

“Yeah, but I stopped that Mando from shooting you in the face.” His eyebrow was raised, all smug playfulness even in his weakened state. She put her hands on her hips, playing along.

“I would’ve dodged it!” 

“At point-blank range?” 

“Yes!” Rex’s look was highly skeptical. “...Maybe.” 

At that he actually laughed, albeit feebly. “Oh, alright. Maybe. Guess I’ll let you try next time and find out.” 

“You mean after the next time I save your life?” For a moment, they just grinned at each other.

“Really wish I had a pillow or something right now,” he said. 

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“So I could throw it at your head.” She laughed, and felt warmth flooding her whole body— not an awkward heat, but a comfortable one. 

“We could reschedule for another time, if now’s not good for you.” 

“Don’t tempt me, verd’ika,” he told her, and she caught his gaze again. There was something there she didn’t understand, something not entirely good. But not quite bad, either.

“You don’t wanna fight me fair and square?” she goaded him a little, raising an eyebrow. 

“Kriff, no,” he laughed. “I’m at a disadvantage no matter what.” 

“That’s krayt-spit. Spar with me when they let you off this bed, Captain.” The challenge came out almost before she could think about it, on the heels of their ridiculous banter. She crossed her arms and leaned onto one hip. It was too late to backtrack now.

“Your squad already warned me about hand-to-hand with you at 79’s,” he said. “I dunno if it’s the Force or what, but if you beat Stone every time, what chance do I have?”

“It’s not the Force, I’m just better than all of you at hand-to-hand,” she found herself replying with a mischievous look. But there was something a little nervous in her throat, too, at the mention of 79’s. The idea of her boys talking to Rex about her while she wasn’t there unnerved her a little, even though it made no sense. 

Luckily, though, he took the bait. “All of us?” Rex asked with an arching brow.

“Yes. All of you.” 

“Now I think it’s my duty to the Republic to prove you wrong. Or else they’ve paid for an entire army of the wrong person.” 

“Fine,” she cooed, leaning against his bedside. “Just find me at the barracks when you recover and I’ll happily kick your shebs.” 

“I love how sure you are,” he said, tilting his head a little more towards her so he could smirk at her through his eyebrows. For no reason that Sol understood, that look made her whole body shudder just a little. 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah, it’ll make winning even better.” 

“You changed your tune awfully quick, alor’ad.” 

“I didn’t have motivation, before.”

“Well I’m glad you found some. Wouldn’t want to lose too quickly, and embarrass yourself.” She matched his smirk.

“When did you get so feisty?” Rex chuckled. “You wouldn’t even dance at first, the other night.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m better at hand-to-hand than dancing,” she replied, feeling embarrassment creeping onto her cheeks. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t made a fool of herself that night, despite the fact that absolutely no one had implied such a thing. The worst part was that she wanted to do it all over again, anyway. 

“You and me both,” he said, his mock aggression falling away in favor of an easy smile. “Though I admit, you managed better than me.” 

“Fives is a great teacher,” she said, watching the captain laugh again. Every time he did, she felt a little less worried. If nothing else, Rex might be willing to overlook any foolishness she might’ve committed. “He doesn’t mind looking silly, so it’s easy to look silly with him.”

“From where I was sitting, you looked great.” Just like that, her cheeks got hot again. Playful antagonism, she understood. Her boys had trained her well in that particular art. But sincere kindness was still a mystery to her, and she looked away even as she smiled.

“Um, thanks. I… had fun, at least,” she replied, dropping her arms to fidget with the end of her gauntlet. She could feel Rex’s eyes on her suddenly, even though they’d been there for most of the conversation so far. 

“Good,” he said. “Would hate it if you hadn’t.” 

“I mean, can’t promise I’ll go again anytime soon. Might need to practice dancing more first.”

“Oh don’t worry, I understand. I’m right there with you,” he chuckled. But this chuckle turned into a little cough, and he turned his head away from her to cover it with his arm. 

“I’m sorry, Rex. I should let you rest,” Sol said, worry stealing away the next awkward silence that had been looming. 

“S’okay. I’ll mend either way.” He looked back at her, and she felt the pull of his eyes. They were dark brown, but caught the light at the bottom in a way that turned even the stark medical center lights a rich amber. Her heart softened, and she smiled at him.

“Rest anyway,” she said gently, reaching out to touch his arm in a way that felt instinctive this time; a way to pin him to the cot for long enough that sleep could find him again. “It'll make me feel better.”

“Alright, verd’ika,” he sighed, letting his eyes go heavy. “For you, I'll manage it.” 

Sol smiled, and waited for his eyes to close fully before she turned to walk away. Stealing a final glance back at him, she then made her way back towards the ship’s barracks to find her squad.

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations 

Swift was almost asleep when he heard the door of his bunk slide open. When it seemed like no footsteps followed it, he knew who had come in. He didn’t even bother to move when a figure’s faint shadow grew on the wall in front of him, or when the lightest pressure shifted the mattress by his feet.

“Sol’ika,” he murmured almost inaudibly as a warm body slid in behind him. He turned over onto his back so she could curl up and put her head on his chest. Wrapping an arm around her back, he put the other hand on her shoulder to stroke it gently. She was prone to bouts of insomnia, so the squad had gotten very used to her coming down the hall from her private quarters seeking some calm. “You okay?” 

She was quiet for a moment, going a little stiff as she tried to decide how to respond. “I dunno, Swift,” she whispered finally, keen not to wake the other commandos who were all sound asleep in the other three beds. “There’s too much in my head, sometimes.” 

“I know what you mean,” he sighed, reaching up to pat her head. “Ew, your hair’s still wet.”

“Are you okay? What happened on Aquaris was… strange.” She didn’t seem to care about her damp shower hair, which he could now feel was turning his regulation black shirt cool in spots. His hand retreated back to her shoulder, his eyes barely open in the darkness. 

“I’m alright. Hard to think too much about it, because we don’t actually know anything.” 

“Because we don’t know what her research was really about, or what that Null was doing there?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

She sighed against him. “Still. I know that was a lot for you all to process.” 

“It’s okay. I think we’ve all concluded the same thing, which is we’ll have to wait and see,” he assured her. “What’s in your head?” 

“It’s hard to even talk about it.” 

“You wouldn’t have come to me if you didn’t want to at least try,” he pointed out. Stone was her silent support, and Grip she would go to when she just wanted him to tell her about whatever it was he was reading lately, to take her mind away from what was troubling her. Twofer wasn’t much of a cuddler, but Swift had a feeling that if she’d crawled into his bed for some reason, he would gladly let her stay there if she needed the company. But Swift harbored at least one of her secrets, and emotions didn’t scare him half as much as they scared her.

“Fine,” she sighed, and he could almost feel her rolling her eyes in the gloom. “Gar serim.” 

“Of course I’m right,” he chuckled, trying hard to make everything a whisper. “Take your time.” 

“It’s a lot of things. I’m worried about you all after the mission. Worried about what happened on Talasea. Worried about 79’s, worried about—”

“What about 79’s?” he asked, looking down his cheek at what he could see of her, which was mostly damp white hair. 

“It’s silly,” she murmured.

“Okay, but what is it?” 

“I don’t know, it’s the whole thing! I’ve just been worried I was making a di’kut of myself.” She huffed into his chest, and he was grateful that she couldn’t see his expression. It was somewhere between fond and impish and long-suffering, and it would surely have agitated her further. How precious his fierce little sister could be, he thought.

“Sol’ika, you were just having fun,” he told her. “Having fun is good for you, once in a while.” 

“But I danced with so many people.” 

“That qualifies as fun.” 

“And I was drunk.” 

“Also fun, if you do it right.”

“Swift, you don’t understand,” she groaned. “I keep feeling strange. Like maybe I was… too… I dunno. Too loose, too—”

“I know you’re not used to feeling vulnerable with a lot of people,” he said gently. “But getting a little drunk and dancing with a bunch of guys who all think you’re pretty great and then going home and going to bed isn’t a big deal. And you know we all had a good time. Worse things can and will happen.”

Another sigh. She was doing a lot of that, tonight. “Yeah but by the end I told Rex about what happened on Talasea, and about my mother. I guess I’m still worried that I made him uncomfortable.” 

Oh, finally, he thought. He realized when she said it that he hadn’t ever even heard her say his name when he wasn’t around, always the 501st, or Anakin’s men, or sometimes ‘the captain’ but not often. 

“I understand, I really do. But I also really do not think that Captain Rex is uncomfortable around you.” He didn’t say it, of course, but he had noticed that the good captain was just as prone to quickly retracting from ‘accidentally’ getting too close as Sol was. If anything, that meant that Rex was almost too comfortable around her, and spooked himself. Which was a little endearing, to Swift. For now, at least. 

“You don’t think so?” she asked, and even in a whisper he could hear the edge of childlike uncertainty, colored with longing. 

“No, vod’ika. You might’ve made yourself a little uncomfortable, though.” 

“Not until after I’d already babbled about it,” she murmured, curling a little more into his chest. “I was second-guessing everything. But I talked to him again on the Steadfast, finally.” 

“Oh yeah?” Swift raised a brow, and felt a smile touch his cheeks. “Didn’t he get that awful virus on Naboo?” 

She nodded. “It looked pretty bad, but he’s probably recovered by now. We joked about sparring hand-to-hand.” There was a giggle, mightily suppressed, in her voice; Swift progressed to grinning mischievously. 

“Sparring, huh?” 

“Yeah, at first he was all ‘I don’t stand a chance’, because apparently Grip and Stone told him about how our sparring goes. Then I told him I could beat any of you. He decided that meant that it was his solemn duty to the GAR to prove me wrong. So I guess now I have to kick his shebs,” she said. Swift actually wished he could see her face, then, because he could feel her smiling. 

“You’re really workin’ on that crush, aren’t you?” he teased, and she went stiff against him. 

“It’s not like that,” she mumbled. 

“Isn’t it?” 

“I dunno, maybe I’m making a friend.” For once, there wasn’t an agitated edge to her rebuttal. She sounded almost sheepish even as she tried to push her feelings away.

“Alright, Sol’ika. By all means, make a friend,” he said. “But I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“How do I look at him?” Now the indignation was back.

“About the same way he looks at you.”

“Swift—”

“All I mean,” he said, giving her shoulder a little squeeze, “is that you two obviously both want to get to know each other better. So spend time with him, okay? We can go from there.” 

“Fine,” she grumbled, and she went a little more lax against him. “I don’t really even know how to make friends, either.” 

Swift couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re doing really well, I promise. It’s more natural than you think.” 

“Vor'e, vod.” 

“Also, will you please go get your kriffing knees checked?” That earned him a low growl, but there was no way she would bring it up first.

“Jat,” she murmured.

“Really?” He was almost stunned at how little resistance he got this time. 

“Yes, I’ll go.” 

“It’s worse now, isn’t it?” There had to be a reason why she was agreeing, finally.

“I said I’ll go, tayli'bac?” It wasn’t as bristly as usual, but the message was clear enough. He was lucky to get her reluctant yield. 

Swift looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. Sol’s absolute obstinance— or maybe it was avoidance— when it came to speaking the truth about the pain she was always in drove him absolutely up the wall. Sometimes he wanted to shake her and tell her that it was okay, that there was nothing weak about letting people know you hurt. Or about finding a way to take care of the things that did hurt. He wasn’t exactly a medic, but there was no way that the sudden increase of pain in her knees lately was good. But he breathed it out, letting go of how much it stoked his anxiety. 

“Thank you,” he murmured instead, tugging her close for a moment and pressing his cheek against the top of her head. She sagged into him, which was in a way more gratifying than if she’d hugged him back. Letting go of the tense threads that made her body look strong wasn’t easy for Sol. When he’d relaxed again, feeling sleep starting to tug at his eyes, she shifted just enough to let herself sink into the most comfortable position and threw down anchor there.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked in an especially tiny whisper. A fond, drowsy smile touched his lips.

“Did you even have to ask?”

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

“C’mon, sir. You promised,” Kix said from behind as the group moved through a long gray hallway inside the GAR rec center. ‘Recreation’ was a strong term for maintaining battle-readiness, but the passing adrenaline of bolo-ball or the transcendent focus of lifting weights were better at keeping the men sharp than some would think. Today, however, Rex would rather have been running combat drills with live rounds. 

“Does it count as a promise if I never said the words ‘I promise’?” he asked, feeling his steps begin to slow of their own accord as the mat rooms loomed in the distance. 

“Yes,” Jesse confirmed. 

“What about if I was too delirious to remember the conversation?” 

“You have to get your story straight, sir,” Fives chimed in. “Either you never said you promised, or you don’t remember the conversation. You can’t have both.” 

Rex frowned, glancing daggers back at the ARC trooper. It felt like half his company was behind him, waiting to crowd into the mat room like spectators in a coliseum. Which, for all intents and purposes, was exactly what they were doing. 

“Don’t worry, Captain. We’ve got your back.” Kix’s tone was all too cheerful. They’d all seen what he was up against; since the return of the Steadfast to Coruscant, Sol Tannor had been sparring nonstop with her squad. Rex had been in the offices filing requisitions orders when Fives had come over the comm to audibly explode when he witnessed the rather diminutive sergeant level Stone— all 6 and a half feet of him. The rumors were true. This did less than nothing to ease Rex’s belief that, in his virus-induced stupor, he’d already made an embarrassing mistake. 

“Maybe she’ll go easy on you,” Hardcase said. 

“That would be much worse,” Rex grumbled. 

“You just have to catch her unawares, sir!” Fives assured him. “You’re smart. You can find the exact moment—”

“Yes, I know how to approach an enemy I’m disadvantaged against, thank you, trooper.” 

When he and the men in blue and white behind him approached the largest mat room in the entire complex, Rex was ever so slightly mortified to see several members of the 212th already there. The clone members of Cronos were lined up along the wall, chatting between themselves or calling over to the men in orange. Sol herself was standing talking to Cody— kriff. Marshal Commander Cody was going to watch him eat the mat that day, too, he thought.

When they saw him lingering like a frightened ghost behind the transparisteel window, of course, a cheer went up, and then his vode were pushing him past the door enthusiastically. He shooed them away, and pulled his boots off before he stepped onto the mat, looking with measured intention at the floor as he made his way up into the arena. 

Seeing her bare feet come into view, he knew he’d avoided it as long as he could and his eyes rose up to meet her. Sol was pulling a pair of soft knuckle guards off her hands as she finished whatever she was saying to Cody, then turning around to look at him. Her skin was dewy with a thin sheen of drying sweat, hair in a messy braid, and she was wearing a suit of long black compression shorts and sleeveless shirt. She smiled, a roguish glimmer in her golden eyes as she threw the knuckle guards over to Swift. 

“I wasn’t expecting a crowd,” she said. “Your name draws quite an audience, alor’ad!” 

“We can always reschedule somewhere more private if you’re nervous,” he found himself saying. 

“Oh no, this is great!” The fact that she seemed genuinely cheerful about it was… he didn’t know what it was. But it stirred his admiration as much as it stirred his dismay. 

“Alright, Sarge. If you’re ready, I’m ready.” He planted his legs wider, bent his knees a little, held out his hands ready to pull strength and motion from thin air as soon as he needed them. She took a different stance, crouching lower, one hand held closer to her body and the other towards him.

“Tsikala,” she said.

As they began to circle one another, Rex watched a change come over her face. It wasn’t just concentration, it was a hyperfixation the intensity of which almost felt like heat pricking his skin. It was feral, predatory, utterly hellbent. He’d not been able to really see her expression during the fight on Talasea. But it wasn’t the way she looked that was slightly unnerving so much as the way she felt, her energy leveled in its totality on her opponent. And she wasn’t even angry. 

For Rex it was like turning on a switch he’d long left untouched. His body wanted to match her, mimic her tension so he could then strike to remove it. His heart started to pound in his ears, his muscles to sing each and every movement he made into his awareness. It felt like a hundred years they circled, and the entire room fell silent as their audience watched almost without a breath.

He lunged first— he couldn’t hold it in any longer. She dodged him without a blink, spun around and away as though opening up and inviting him to try again. So again he struck, and this time she deflected his strike and made one of her own. But it was too easy for him to block, too direct to be anything but a test. She stepped back for just a moment longer than he expected before another low strike came, and he tried to grab her arm to twist it. But she feinted, leapt up to drive towards his chin. Rex spun just to the side enough to catch her arm but dropped it when she jabbed his side. 

“Oof!” came a voice from somewhere in the crowd of onlookers, alongside a series of little gasps. Sol leapt back, not staying too close. The jab wasn’t strong, just enough to really wake him up. Rex let them return to circling again. It was amazing how her strikes came on the heels of motions that didn’t suggest attack, how nothing she did betrayed her next move. 

He knew how to counteract that, though.

The next time he came at her he unleashed a torrent of strikes. He went as fast as he could, not trying anything that could get him flung around if she caught it, just trying to keep her moving. And move she did, her hands and arms flying to block and parry him, her strikes always coming from somewhere he wasn’t quite watching. Yet his instinct held up, and he’d just barely started to get an idea of how she moved. 

Or he thought he had, at least. The kick that drove into his thigh and caused him to stumble onto his hands and knees and roll back upright as fast as he could proved him wrong. 

“We’re doing that, then, verd’ika?” he asked, grinning in spite of himself. There were oooohs and snickers in the crowd. 

“I don’t take ‘hand-to-hand’ too literally,” she replied, the smirk on her face not detracting from the intensity of her stare at all. Then she drove towards him without taking another breath, and he blocked a jab from her knee before they were back into a flurry. 

“C’MON REX!” cheered someone, probably Fives. But the sounds of the audience, now a constant murmur in the background, might as well have not been there at all. It was only him and her in a dance that challenged him and excited him and, every few strikes, even frightened him a little. Once he thought he caught her arm, and she flipped him onto his back, or tried to; he twisted and rolled out of her grip only to round back on her again. At that, she laughed like it was a pleasant surprise. They broke apart once more, back to circling, both now sweating and breathing hard. 

“How is it for you, Rex?” she asked, the laugh still in her voice. 

“It’ll be better when I win.” He was starting to think he might be able to, too. His men evidently agreed because they whooped in accord. The 212th appeared to mostly be rooting for her, and booed him playfully. Sol only let that smirk crawl back onto her face in response; apparently boasting wasn’t good bait when she was this focused.

She dove to strike his gut, and he blocked it easily. He was expecting to have to block the strike for his shoulder that came on its heels, but it very nearly came too fast. Ducking, he drove into her thigh with a jab that she interrupted by grabbing his arm with both of her hands. They might’ve been small, but their grip was breathtaking as she proceeded to jerk him almost down onto his face. His other hand shot out to grab her leg and take her with him, and they tumbled across the mat. 

When he found himself on top of her he was almost surprised. Somewhere in their tussle, which had happened so quickly and yet seemed like it was in slow motion, something had changed that he didn’t understand. All the strength in her body had seemed to surge out at once and then drain unexpectedly under the force of his limbs pinning her down. His face was close to hers, and she was utterly stiff beneath him as they almost breathed one another’s exhales and his heart thudded wildly between his lungs. 

But something was wrong. Her expression was frozen not quite in a grimace. Her breaths came uneven and jerky, he could feel her ribcage stuttering. And all her hunter’s focus was gone, her eyes looking through him. 

“Sol?” he asked, drawing back and loosening his grip on her a little. 

“Sarge!” came a voice he thought was Grip’s. Footsteps followed it, approaching from the side. “Sarge, don’t try to move.” 

Rex turned to look behind him at her legs and saw that one of them was lying at a very unnatural angel from the knee. He pulled his weight off of her body instantly, and very carefully lifted his own leg away from where it was pinning her across the thighs. He realized that one of her hands was gripping his upper arm so hard that it hurt.

“Sol, can you feel anything in your right leg?” Grip asked, kneeling beside her and looking between her face and the almost nauseating twist of her leg. She nodded faintly, and Rex realized that her face was frozen as though clamped down around immense pain. 

“We need a medic!” Cody called. “Someone get a gurney!” 

“What can I do?” Rex asked, looking intently at Grip. 

“Help me lift her onto the gurney when it gets here,” the commando replied. He was in medic-mode, all business. Rex could hear the other clones nearing, murmuring in dismay. The rest of Cronos Squad was approaching with nervous expressions— all but Swift, who seemed almost… angry?

Rex felt it hit him like a weight. He’d hurt her somehow in the middle of their friendly spar.

“Captain, what did you do?” came Fives’ voice, with even more than his usual amount of godawful timing. But Sol’s head was shaking. 

“Not your fault,” she breathed, still not looking directly at anything, though for a second her grip on his arm got even tighter. Grip was touching her leg gingerly, trying to figure out what was wrong. When he nudged the calf below her upset knee she hissed and a tiny, strained noise just barely escaped her.

“Give her some air,” Swift’s voice cut in, tone heated as he stood close by. 

“No,” Sol gasped, and this time her grip tightened for much longer. “Cuyolir.” Finally the pools of gold beneath her white eyelashes flickered over to Rex, the closest thing to a plea he’d ever seen on her face. He saw her other hand shaking as she reached for Grip, who took it in his own and squeezed. “Stay,” she said again in basic this time, barely above a whisper. 

“We’re not going anywhere, Sol’ika,” Grip assured her gently. 

“I won’t leave you. This is my fault,” Rex muttered. 

“No,” Sol repeated, firm and final. 

“Nobody’s blaming you, Captain,” Grip said. “It was an accident, whatever happened.” 

“I still feel responsible.”

Before Grip could counter him, the gurney finally arrived. “C’mon, let’s get her up. Quick as you can, on my mark,” the commando urged, and with every ounce of care he had Rex lifted Sol up under her back and shoulders as Grip gingerly took hold of her legs. “Vod’ika, take a deep one. This is gonna hurt.” 

Her eyes shut, and she gave a faint nod. Rex felt his guts twist up when they moved in sync to lift her just inches off the ground and back onto the gurney, watching her bite down on her tongue until it had to be bleeding. It was horrific how little sound she made when he knew her whole body had to be screaming with pain. As the gurney rose on its repulsorlifts, her body fell limp into it. 

“Little’un,” murmured Stone as he took the gurney’s handles near her head. “Can you hear me?” 

“Susulur gar,” she confirmed, eyelids fluttering open to look up at the big clone. 

“We’re taking you up to medical now.” 

“Mhm.” Her eyes fluttered closed, then opened again, this time looking back at Rex. He reached out to touch her forehead, pushing a stray hair away from her face. “Rematch later?” she asked, giving a ghost of a grin. He laughed, but in a way that almost hurt his heart. 

“Yeah, okay.” The guilt was washing up against him now, wave after wave. It was unnecessary, he knew, fueled by other, older guilts. Grip was right, this was an accident. But he felt like an asshole anyway.

The way she leaned her face into his touch made his heart skip a beat before she began to sail away, out of the mat room with a gaggle of his men on the heels of the gurney all trying to cheer her up. Twofer followed, shooing them away. Rex only looked after the group until they were gone. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Grip said, pulling him out of his head by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll be alright.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, sighing. “I’ll come see her. I wanna know what happened.” 

“It really wasn’t your fault, sir.” 

“I know, I’m just… worried.” He realized that Swift wasn’t in the room anymore either, only Grip and some of the onlooking clones who were now milling about and talking with each other in hushed tones. But Grip smiled.

“Yeah. I know. You’re a good man, Rex. Don’t beat yourself up,” the commando told him. “I’ll message you when she’s got visitor clearance.” Rex’s smile was faint but sincere. At least one of her men wasn’t angry with him.

“Thank you.” 

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Galactic City Medical Center

The light inside Sol’s alcove had been mercifully dimmed at her request as she laid there unable to move her legs. The medical droid’s words replayed in her head as she gazed up at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a cloud of shadow hanging over her head. 

“Vod’ika?” asked a voice very quietly. Stone was easing around the corner. Her lashes fluttered, dragging her vision back into the world around her long enough to look over at him. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey, little’un,” he replied, entering the space fully to pull a stool up to her bedside and sit down at it. “You feeling alright?” 

“Can’t feel much of anything.” She sighed, reaching towards him. He took her hand in both of his without questioning, and it seemed as tiny and frail as she felt in between his massive palms. “Suppose that’s an improvement, though.”

“Yes.” He smiled, this one sweet smile he had for moments when she had messed up her hair mid-braid or had packed more ammo than dry rations. One that was as long-suffering as it was fond.

“What?” she asked, and he shook his head. 

“You’re at least as stubborn as you are strong, little’un.”

“What does that mean?” She frowned, and then she heard footsteps. 

“It means I’m gonna kick your ass, is what it means,” Swift said as he rounded the corner and immediately crossed his arms. “How did it get that bad?” 

“What?” Now she wasn’t just confused, she was a little bit angry. Twofer and Grip were on Swift’s heels, entering her alcove and standing close by. 

“The medical droid explained what was wrong. I just wanna know how you were even walking with almost no cartilage left in your knees,” Grip said, shaking his head like he was impressed. Sol’s eyes darted over to Swift again, and her frown was severe. 

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “The droid told us because we were your caretakers, once you finally passed out and couldn’t answer its questions.” He frowned right back at her. 

“So everyone knows, then?” she asked, and shame flooded her like bile. 

“We know your joints are in pain, that all our air-jumps wore your knees out at lightspeed, and that now you have nice shiny new robot knees,” Twofer chimed in. “The rest is too technical for me.” 

“We just wish you’d told us,” Stone said softly, stroking the top of her hand. 

“Yeah. I could’ve made sure you had all your injections every mission, plus backups,” Grip added. She looked between them, unsure of how to respond. Everything she’d been taught told her that this was disgrace, but all the squad seemed to care about was being in the loop. Finally her eyes landed back on Swift, whose angry expression was finally faltering. 

“I just wish you didn’t think you had to be in pain all the time, Sol’ika,” he said, arms dropping as he moved to the other side of the bed from where Stone was and wrapped his arms around her neck to hug her. Surprised, she reached up with her free hand to stroke his back. 

“It’s alright. I’m… I’m sorry.” It felt strange to say it, but she could feel the guilt in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry for making you hide it for me.” 

“It’s okay,” Swift said as he rose back away from her. “I kept it in confidence because you asked me to. I just had no idea how bad it was getting until now.” 

“Nobody did. That was the point.”

“You can’t hide pain like that, Sol,” Grip said, his brow creasing. “It’s important to know where you’re hurting so someone can help you heal, and be ready to fight.” 

“This doesn't heal, vod,” she replied. “The pain will always be with me.” 

“Listen, if it gets worse like that, it’s worth looking into,” Grip insisted. “What if that twist had happened in battle, and not just during a spar?”

“Yeah, you got real lucky this time, Sarge,” Twofer added. Sol felt her cheeks get hot with, of all things, embarrassment. But it was embarrassing for someone of her descent, for a commando of all people, to put her ability to fight in jeopardy over her pride. A pride that was, apparently, distinctly Mandalorian.

“I’m sorry, ner vode. I should have told you all sooner,” she said, deflated. “I… I was afraid they might decommission me, or something.” 

“Only if you do such a bad job taking care of yourself that you get jacked in hand-to-hand by a reg again,” Twofer grinned. 

“Osik,” Sol swore, the warmth in her cheeks taking on a different flavor. “Poor Rex.”

“He’ll be alright,” Swift assured her with a little smile. She shook her head. 

“Yeah, but I know he feels bad.”

“He probably doesn’t feel as bad now that he knows you just didn’t have any kriffing cartilage,” Grip chuckled. 

“So, you told him?” She felt herself sink. The shame of being broken, of her genes being deficient, was still present when she thought about anyone but the boys knowing about it. She realized that letting go of it was going to be more of a struggle than her vode could wipe away.

“We told him about your knees. We left the rest out,” Swift said quickly. Sol looked at him, relief washing over her. “But you could tell him yourself.” 

“Maybe.” 

“That means no, doesn’t it?” 

She gave a humorless smile. “Maybe.” 

“Tell him or don’t, I don’t care,” Twofer said. “But we won’t tell anybody else unless it’s a medical droid who’s saving your life at that exact moment.” 

“Vor’e.” 

“Rex was kind enough to file the incident report for you, though,” Swift said, his brows dancing just a little. “And— Stone?” 

Sol’s brow furrowed, but the big clone just gave a little smile and reached down beneath her cot to pull up, of all things, a little vase with a single flower in it. Its large petals were white with red speckles dotting them. She stared at it.

“He would’ve brought it himself, but the 501st had to rush off to escort a supply ship on a bluemilk run to Ryloth,” Swift explained. 

“Yeah, it’s a get-well-soon present,” Grip said with a sage nod. The way they were all looking at each other made Sol want to banish them back to the barracks, but instead she reached out to take the little vase and look at the flower. It was beautiful, she thought, and unusually so with the red like bright blood against the pure white. It reminded her of wearing the red queen’s heart flowers in her white hair. 

“That’s very kind of him,” she said, voice falling quiet as she felt her heart grow somehow heavy and soft at the same time as a realization dawned. “I… I’ve never gotten a gift before.” 

For a moment, the alcove was silent. 

“Wait, never?” Twofer was obviously shocked. Sol shook her head.

“Your dad never…?” Swift’s question faded, but she shook her head again. 

“We didn’t do gifts,” she said. It was much harder to explain than that, but that was the shortest version that was still true. 

“I mean, most clones haven’t gotten gifts. Sometimes, from a sweetheart, maybe. But you’re not a clone, so I would’ve thought you’d gotten a gift at least once,” Grip said, eyes drooping with pity. “Bless Rex, then. You should tell him.” 

“Tell him what?” Sol asked.

“About the gift!” 

“Grip’s right. I think knowing he gave you your first gift ever would make him really happy,” Swift said. 

Twofer’s face had gone strangely distant, and just a little sad. “You should tell him,” he agreed. Sol just looked at Stone, as though waiting for him to complete the vote for some reason. She was fighting the fear that this idea rendered suddenly. 

Stone stroked the hair across the top of her head. “Clones don’t get to be special much,” he said. “It would make him happy to know.” 

“Well, kriff. Now I have to do it.” This got a rumble of laughter from them, and Sol smiled. “Vor’e, vode, for always being there for me.”

“Leave no man behind,” Swift said, like an automatic reflex, with a series of nods accompanying him. “Though, you do still have to do your half of the incident report…” 

They laughed, and she pushed his face away playfully. “I’ll get to that when my legs aren’t numb anymore!” 

-----

Sol wasn’t in a rush to admit it, but her new knees carried her so smoothly and (relatively) painlessly from her quarters up to the GAR offices that she found herself wishing she’d done exactly what her squad had said and just confessed to her pain long ago. The change had been not quite gradual, but she was so used to simply acclimating to pain that she still hadn’t fully realized just how much of a toll it was taking on her. That strange thing she’d learned once was called magic, and another time was called the Force, wasn’t wrapped so tight around her anymore. 

She moved through the halls with ease under the faint warm lights that dotted them after-hours. It was late, but they were set to be redeployed tomorrow, and there was no way in seven hells that she would finish that incident report if she didn’t just do it now. And she never minded the quiet in the offices at night. Her bare feet made no sound as she approached the door and entered her key. 

When she walked into the first room, all was darkness except for a single cubicle towards the back where a lamp was still on. She heard whoever was there shift at the sound of the door, and a head popped up over the screen that surrounded the desk. 

“Who’s that, then?” came a voice she recognized immediately despite its similarity to that of every other clone in the GAR.

“Rex?” For a moment, she got no reply.

“Sol?” he asked, and she could hear his excitement. Her stomach did a flip. “You’re out of medical?” 

“Um, yeah,” she smiled, and he shuffled out from the little hiding place of his desk where the light hit him better and she could see his return smile. He was still in his armor, as though he’d headed straight there from the docking bay without a break. “I’m just fine.” 

“That’s good.” He just stood for a moment like he wasn’t sure what to do next. She drew up to the little cube, slightly embarrassed that she was wearing her off-duty fatigues which were entirely too large for her petite frame. 

“Did you—”

“I got—”

They started at the same time, and Rex grinned sheepishly. “You first,” he offered. 

“I was just gonna say, I got your, ah, flower,” Sol said. “That was very kind of you.” 

“Oh, good, that’s what I was gonna ask.” He rubbed the back of his head, the same way he had at 79’s. “I just wanted to send you something, y’know, after all that.” 

“I’ve never seen that kind of flower before. What was it?” 

“It’s a nova lily. They grow in all sorts of colors.” 

She hummed in appreciation. “It was very beautiful.” 

“Well, it reminded me of you, so…” He shrugged, and she looked away as her heart skipped a beat. Familiar heat crawled onto her cheeks.

“Vor’e,” she muttered, smiling almost involuntarily. Was this what Swift called flirting? Because if it was, it was much more awkward than he’d made it sound like it was supposed to be.

Rex cleared his throat. “How’s your knee?” 

“They’re both good now that they’re made of metal,” she replied, moving her leg a little. “You might’ve done me a favor. I’m relieved it didn’t happen while I was in the field somewhere.” 

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “I… guess I hadn’t thought of it that way. I was just feeling like shit for hurting you.” 

“Believe me, from what the doctors said, it was bound to happen anyway,” she assured him gently. She glanced away from him for a moment, thinking of what her squad had said. Of the two things they’d encouraged her to tell him, the conversation was leaning much closer to the one she’d rather not. “But the flower was sweet. I’ve, uh, I’ve never been given a gift before.” 

His expression gave way to surprise almost in slow-motion. “Really? Never?” 

Sol shook her head. “Nope. That was the first one.” 

“Kriff, if I’d known as much, I’d have picked something nicer,” he laughed. 

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “That doesn't matter. It was just the fact that you gave it at all.”

“Well,” he murmured, but he was absolutely beaming. “I’m honored, then, that I got to be your first. Er, gift, that is.” 

The sudden lump in Sol’s throat was confusing. She chewed her bottom lip nervously, trying to figure out how to respond in between all the emotions and sensations that were playing havoc with her just then. A nod was all she managed.

“Did you come here to do something specific?” Rex asked at length.

“Oh!” Sol shook her head as though she could shake herself out of her own feelings. “Yes, I wanted to finish up that report you were kind enough to file for me.” 

“Ah, that’s… unusually nice of you, actually. Most of those just sit there in the system half-done for six months,” he chuckled. He waved her towards him. “I can pull it up on this screen for you, here.” 

“Um, as long as I’m not interrupting you.” She was going to refuse, to insist she could do it herself, but Rex’s fingers were fast on the controls and, of all the reports she’d filed as Sergeant, this kind of incident report wasn’t one of them. So maybe he could help her be sure it was done right and quick. 

“No trouble,” he assured her. “Here it is.” He pulled out the desk chair and Sol stepped over to sink into it. He pushed it around just enough for her to face the screen. She tapped away, filling out the questions, describing the incident ever so briefly and emphasizing that it was in no way Rex’s fault that she was injured. Behind her, he was close and his hands were still the back of the chair.

“Wait, you wanna put that over here, on this one,” he said as she finished one line, and leaned down to reach around her shoulder and drag the entry around to some other section. His hand brushed against hers on its way.

“Kriffing paperwork,” she muttered even as she almost held her breath. “They couldn’t just make it all standardized. That would be too damn easy.” 

“I know,” he said with a familiar weariness. “You’re lucky you only have five people to file it for. I have a legion, to say nothing of General Skywalker or Commander Tano.”

“I can only imagine.” She found herself giggling, thinking about filing literally any kind of paperwork about the rambunctious Jedi who led his men. Their entire style defied paperwork, and frankly it was something she liked about them. 

“Does this look right?” Rex asked, and she realized he’d filled out almost all of the rest of it already.

“Wayii, you should’ve let me do it,” she complained, eyes scanning the holoscreen before her. “But it does look right.” 

“You just need to enter your birthday, then.” She realized how close his face was to hers all of a sudden. She could feel his eyes as he turned to look at her, could almost feel his breath on her neck. Swallowing hard, she read the section of the report he was referring to and hoped she absorbed any of it.

“I… don’t know when my birthday is,” she said, rubbing one of her arms a little sheepishly. 

“You don’t?” Rex seemed confused. “Even clones have batchdays.”

“I didn’t exactly have paperwork to keep up with until I joined the GAR,” she said, trying to joke. But the fact that not only had she never gotten a gift before but also didn’t know when her birthday was, was clearly not a joke to the Captain. 

“I dunno if it’s a Mandalorian thing or what, but we’ve gotta fix that,” he murmured. “I mean, clones don’t get each other gifts, but we do try to celebrate our batchdays when we get a chance. Especially if some of our batch is still in the same platoon with us.” 

“It’s really not a big deal. I just leave that part of the forms blank.” She could feel him looking at her still, and it drove her completely nuts that she could infiltrate enemy territory, fight bounty hunters, sabotage equipment, and blow up almost anything, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do or say when she felt like this; when she was alone in a dark, quiet office with Rex. She had no instincts in that moment, and it left her with no option but to freeze. 

“That’s alright,” he said finally, and he sent the report on its way with a flick of his gloved fingers. “You have no idea how grateful I am that it’s already done.” 

“Kih'parjai,” she said, finally looking over at him. “Really the least I could do.” 

There was one more moment, wrought with eternal ache and confusion, where he lingered, bent by her where she sat. He was so close she could smell the faint whiff of whatever it was that made him smell rich and earthy, like he wasn’t wrapped in plastoid. Like there was a whole, human body underneath his everpresent uniform blacks. It made her guts tighten, sent heat to her pelvic floor muscles that made them tense up almost like they expected something. 

Then he was standing up, and the holoscreen was reverting back to whatever other paperwork he’d been grinding away at. She found herself sliding out of the chair and standing up to face him. 

“I should leave you to it, shouldn’t I? We’re back out again tomorrow,” she said, her voice more steady than she’d expected.

“You too?” His surprise was subdued as he looked down at her, his face fallen somewhat soft and maybe a little sad in spite of the smile there. “Where to?” 

“Moraga.” 

“Oh, so are we.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “They just sent the 212th yesterday, too. Something big must be going on.” 

“Really? I heard Lightning Squad was heading there too.” 

“Nevermind,” he said, waving a hand. “We’ll find out soon, either way. You should get some rest.” 

“What about you?” she asked, looking up at him. The light cast his cheekbones very handsomely, she found herself thinking. And his chin, too, and his mouth…

“There’s no rest for the weary, verd’ika,” he smiled. “But I feel better knowing you’re hale again.” 

“If you say so,” she said. “Try to rest anyway, hm?”

“To make you feel better?” he chuckled.

“Exactly.” 

“Alright.” Rex was tugging the chair away from the desk to sit down again, but he stepped closer to her and just stood there with a hand on the chair for a moment. “For you, I’ll try.” 

“Vercopa gar udesiir, alor’ad,” she murmured; the language that still felt like home wishing him rest and peace as she reached out to touch his arm. “Nuhoyir jahaala.” 

“Thanks… I think.” It was an invitation for her to translate more fully than he could. But Sol just smiled, and turned to walk out of the offices before she got any more lost in the amber pools at the bottom of his eyes. She turned just as the door slid open, meeting his gaze a final time before she left. 

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Challenger, en route to Moraga, 21BBY

The way they called everyone into the main bridge as soon as the ship was tucked into the endless slip of hyperspace only put Rex even more on edge then he already was. It felt like half the GAR was already on Moraga, and now half his legion was to join them. It seemed that Skywalker, Tano, Yularen, and the entirety of Cronos Squad mirrored his feelings, though some more obviously than others, as they crowded around the holomap. They didn’t even greet each other beyond an exchange of glances, and he didn’t feel the surge of anxiety he usually felt when Sol gave him one of her signature nods.

A projection of High General Mace Windu appeared, his eternally solemn expression betraying nothing unusual yet. 

“Things have escalated on Moraga. We’ve had to take the most sophisticated approach possible to dealing with this situation, because we cannot risk the kind of bombardment we normally would. As some of you may know, the Separatists— led by Dooku, undoubtedly— set up camp there over three standard months ago. We didn’t learn of this until their outpost was already well entrenched, but we focused on reconnaissance first. Moraga is a jungle planet with a low population density of sentients, and the ruins of the ancient city of Two Moons are considered haunted by the natives who live there. So much so that the Moragans built their homes on the opposite side of the planet from them. We weren’t sure why they would be interested in such a position, given the impracticalities of creating a base there.”

“Master, was it another droid factory?” Skywalker asked. “Something that remote—”

“No,” Windu cut him off, shaking his head. “We now believe it’s a research facility attempting to refine and produce the colliders once used to create interdiction fields.” 

The silence around the hub at first may have seemed like subdued shock, but Yularen was the first to realize that it was simply confusion. “Interdiction fields,” the Admiral chimed in, “to put it simply, are used to pull ships out of hyperspace mid-route.” 

“What?” As per usual, Skywalker was the first to voice exactly what everyone else was thinking. “But I thought modern engines were too powerful to—”

“They are,” Windu said. “But clearly someone in their army sees the benefit of trying to recreate the old interdiction fields and improve their function enough to create a massive threat to the Republic fleet.” 

“How stable is such an operation, General?” Rex asked, uneasiness settling somewhere deep in his guts.

“Not very,” Windu replied. “Hence our lack of bombardment. If we fire on the facilities, we could very well risk collapsing the entire planet into a gravity well. So for the past month, we’ve been cutting off their access to supplies and fending off assaults from their support. Keeping close to the city walls has kept them from targeting us with their most powerful weapons, because they fear the same thing we do.”

“What changed?” Ahsoka piped up. “Why are we gathering there all of a sudden?” 

“They’ve started firing on the Moragan citizens.” 

“Oh,” she murmured, clearly dismayed. 

“We’ve engaged them both in orbit and on the ground, but they’re receiving supplies while our forces are preoccupied,” Windu continued. “We’ve already inserted the 212th to reinstate the blockade. Their supplies come by ground, since ships can’t fly above the ruins.” 

“Ships can’t fly?” muttered Twofer. “Maybe it is cursed.” 

“Either way, they’ve got more firepower now than when we began. This is a phased assault, and the 212th was set up to look like the support for the 707th that was already there. But it’s proven more difficult than that, so we’ve initiated the next phase. The 501st will approach from the jungle side of Two Moons. We have another squad that will be working on opening the walls from the inside before you go in. Cronos Squad,” and here Windu turned to look at Sol, “you’ll be seeking out the primary lab once you can get inside. We want their research if possible, and we want to know if the ruins can be destroyed safely from orbit or not. Whatever you can shut down, or whoever you can find and apprehend for questioning while you’re in there, do it. Bring as many of the 501st with you as you can, but know that if the battle goes poorly, it’s still your mission to get inside.”

“Yes, General,” Sol replied, her face a mask of stoic deference. “Will you be joining us at the rendezvous point before we march?” 

“I will, and so will Lightning Squad. We’ll depart once we receive our confirmation. It may be as much as two days before you receive your orders to follow.” 

“Staggered,” Rex murmured.

“Exactly,” Windu said. “Skywalker, it is imperative that you wait for your orders before you move in. The timing of these assaults is intentional. Aside from that, the Force has been… difficult, near the city.” 

“Difficult?” Skywalker repeated, incredulous. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ll feel it when you get near to the city. All I know is, the reports from our generals say that it acts differently.” For a moment, the High General’s own confusion was a whisper of an expression on his face that vanished as quickly as it arrived. “Use our guidelines to prep for insertion, and by no means bring any of the ordnance listed as highly sensitive.” 

Twofer’s plaintive groan was almost, but not quite, inaudible. 

“Yes, Master,” Skywalker nodded. “We’ll see you at the rendezvous point.” Windu nodded, and then his blueish likeness vanished. The silence around the hub was heavy for a moment. 

“I’ll brief the men when we’re preparing to embark, sir,” Rex said. Skywalker nodded, but he was clearly deep in thought about how the nature of the Force might be so altered as to be called ‘difficult’. Not for the first time, Rex was grateful to be free of the burden of such an influence. 

“Anakin,” came Sol’s voice, and there was a strange sound in it. “Do you need anything from me or my squad before we arrive?” 

Skywalker shook his head. “No, thank you Sol. You can rest up, and then suit up.” She nodded and turned unceremoniously towards the bridge’s exit. To Rex’s dismay, the anxiety that hadn’t reared its ugly head before chose that moment to reinstate itself. Before he could ask the General if he was dismissed, though, Skywalker beckoned to his padawan and they wandered towards the massive viewport together. 

“I’ll follow Sarge,” Swift offered even as he turned on the trail of his CO. The rest of Cronos Squad seemed a little confused, and they looked at each other for a moment. 

“So, wanna show us the list of what we’re allowed to pack, then, Captain?” asked Twofer finally, turning towards Rex. 

What he wanted was to chase Sol down and ask her what was wrong, he realized, but maybe that wasn’t his place. So he just nodded, and turned towards the door with the three commandos trailing behind him. 

-----

Sol didn’t retreat far. In fact she only made it to a nearby hallway and tucked herself behind one of the beams that ran from floor to ceiling to take a deep breath. There was, it seemed, always a strange confluence of all the past and history that she’d been denied that still weighed on her-- a heritage of stories and traditions and traumas that she didn’t want to claim but that followed on her heels like hungry ghosts anyway. This one struck her much harder than she’d expected, for something so far away.

Swift found her after only a few moments. He approached quietly, watching her.

“Vod?” he asked. 

“I’m alright, Swift.” 

“You don’t seem alright.”

“I mean I’ll be alright,” she said with half a huff of frustration. “Where’d everyone else go?” 

“The armory.” When she nodded but said nothing, he gave her just a moment more of silence. “Listen,” he said, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But come on back with me. Besides, won’t some really big guns make you feel better?” 

“Maybe,” she said, returning his little grin. Stepping out of her hiding place, she fell in beside him as they walked quietly to the armory. 

“There she is,” said Twofer with a smile when they entered. “You alright, Sarge?” 

“Ni jahaala, Twof, don’t worry. Just needed a moment. That was a lot to take in.” 

“Yeah, this is more coordinated strategy than I’ve ever seen the GAR use at once,” Rex chimed in as he rose from his seat on a nearby bench. “Not since Geonosis.”

“I just can’t believe they’re trying to jerk ships out of hyperspace,” Grip said, shaking his head as he piled plasma refills into his backpack. “That’s not been done since—”

“The Mandalorian Wars,” Sol said, and all the faces in the room turned to her.

“But they weren’t powerful enough, were they?” asked Grip, and it didn’t surprise her that he was the only one that would’ve been remotely read on the subject. “I thought the interdiction fields of the Old Republic were abandoned because they didn’t work against the stronger hyperdrives that were developed.” 

“The interdictor ships were abandoned, yes,” Sol replied. “But it was an interdiction field of enormous power that ended the Mandalorian Wars.” 

“How?” asked Swift. It struck her as almost funny that he, Grip, Rex, Stone, and even Twofer had all taken on the same expression that the clones back on Kamino had when she told them stories of the galaxy outside their bubble of a city on a rain-drenched hurricane of a planet. But this look was tinged with something darker, a worry that those clones hadn’t yet met with.

“Have you heard of Malachor V?” They all shook their heads. “It was the site of the last great battle. The largest amassing of Mando warriors and armies in thousands of years. The Old Republic and the Jedi Knights fought them. The planet was already bloodied when Revan the Butcher defeated Te Ani'la Mand'alor in single combat.” 

“Who’s that?” asked Twofer. “Either of ‘em, I mean.” 

“I read that Darth Revan was the leader of a Sith Empire, a traitor to the Jedi,” Grip said, clearly confused.

“But before that, he was one of them,” Sol said, and for a moment the ancient rivalry between the Jedi and the Mandalorians was a subtle flicker in her eyes. “He fought and defeated one of the greatest leaders in Mandalorian history, called Te Ani'la Mand'alor, who had almost led his people to victory. But even as his opponent lay dead on the surface of Malachor V, Revan ordered the use of the Mass Shadow Generator. It was a massive interdiction field that drew on the unusual gravity in the Malachor system to crush… everything.” 

The way they all stared at her had a strange effect; she felt for once that the voice of her father was echoing through her, speaking truths so old they could be mistaken for legends. Truths she had finally been able to read about at the Jedi Temple, childhood stories suddenly rendered reality. “It destroyed Mandalorian ships and Republic ships alike. Mando and Jedi both perished in the destruction it caused. It ripped the planet into pieces, and devastated the Mando’ade.” She closed her eyes as if the tale itself wearied her.

“But there are still Mandos out there,” Swift pointed out. 

“The culture is a creed,” Sol explained. “It takes in anyone willing to shed their pasts and swear themselves to the Resol’nare, the tenants of that creed. So they rebuilt, slowly, and now you see how few still remain. The ‘new’ Mandalorians don’t keep that same creed.” 

“So you’re afraid they’ll do something like that again, if they create a powerful enough interdiction field?” Rex asked, his tone soft. Sol looked at him, and there was an understanding in his face she hadn’t quite expected to see there.

“Yes,” she replied. “I grew up with these stories. Malachor V will always haunt the Mandalorians, and for good reason. Whoever is working at this facility either doesn’t know the history, or doesn’t care.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going down there to stop them, then,” Twofer said, picking up a missile launcher. “I can’t use anything with too much energy output, Sarge, but these are still allowed if you aim them careful enough.” He grinned, and in that moment, Sol really did feel better. For all her father had hated his heritage, he had carried its burdens all the same-- and all alone. She felt they were defending all of creation from wounds whose scars were often forgotten or even hidden by those that still bore them. The Jedi, she was certain, still remembered. 

“Think I’ll tell my men that story,” Rex mused. “Might throw some fuel on their enthusiasm. Though, you tell it better than I could, Sol.” 

She smiled, and a familiar and eternally frustrating warmth stole over her cheeks. “I’ll tell them, if you like. The more who know what’s at stake here, the better.” 

“I agree,” he said. “And I’d be honored if you would. I know it’s gotta be hard, to have something you were afraid of your whole life suddenly seem possible.” 

“I forgot who I have by my side,” she replied, smiling. “Sometimes I still forget that I’m not alone anymore.”

“You’ll never be alone as long as you’re in the GAR, verd’ika.” Rex’s soft smile from the night before had returned as he looked down at her. “Maybe whether you like it or not.” 

“I think I’m getting used to it.” 

“Good.”

A loud thunk reminded her very suddenly that, for all her talk, she and Rex weren’t alone in a dark office anymore. 

“Oops,” Grip said with a faintly impish smile. “Sorry, dropped my stuff.” 

“Careful, vod,” she said a little sharply. “Don’t blow us up before we get there.” 

“You should pack yours too, little’un,” Stone reminded her gently. “If you want the missiles, I’ll carry them.”

“Right,” Sol muttered, shuffling away from the Captain and over into the piles of weaponry. “I can’t bring my bowcaster, can I?” 

“Afraid not,” Rex chuckled. “Which is a tragedy.” 

“It really is,” Twofer groaned. “But we’ll make do.” 

Chapter Text

Moraga, in the jungle outside Two Moons ruins, 501st encampment, day 1

The rendezvous point had to be turned into a fleet of massive tents. But the rain had let up just before their arrival, so despite the ground being damp, the process of setting everything up had been relatively painless. Cronos Squad was in the command tent along with Torrent Company and the two Jedi. There was a strange duality about that camp, where the low bass of settling in for a couple of days and the high strings of anticipation played havoc with each other. Anakin and his padawan were often chatting a little away from the others, apparently still preoccupied with whatever effect the ancient city had on the Force. Sol had elected to ignore it until she could feel it for herself, assuming she ever did, and instead stood just outside the shelter of the tent gazing out into the unusual landscape before her.

Moraga was almost totally covered in jungle, all the flora of which was some shade or another of purple. Rich wine hues, pale lavenders, purples so dark they bordered on black. It was beautiful, and somewhat uncanny in a way that drew her golden eyes back out to it in spare moments. So she’d indulged in a moment of quietude to really look, and to listen to the endless trill of life that was all but invisible in the tangle of it.

She was the first to hear Lightning Squad approach. Turning to grin as their yellow and white armor emerged from the nearby trees, she waved. 

“Ponds!” 

“Oy, is that you, pipsqueak? I could hardly see ya, you’re so small!” the commander called back from under his bucket. 

“Ne'johaa!” But she was running towards him, and when they met they clapped their hands together in greeting. “Took you long enough to get here.” 

“Well we weren’t comfy on Coruscant before we had to leave,” he teased.

“Oh, off on top secret commando business?” She fell in beside him as more yellow and white flanked them, heading towards Skywalker’s tent. 

“Obviously.” 

“You gonna tell me about it?” 

“No, but believe me when I say that if you really need to know, someone will tell you.” Before she could remark on his cryptic answer, Anakin approached. 

“Commander Ponds,” he said. “Is General Windu with you?” 

“He’ll be along shortly, sir,” the clone replied, taking off his helmet. “He’s trying to establish comm contact with General Kenobi.” 

“Do the ruins mess up the communicators, too?” Ahsoka asked.

“Interestingly, no,” Pond replied. “At least, not usually. Once in a while, something happens that eats the signals for a few seconds. Everything just goes dead.” 

“Interdiction fields,” Sol muttered as she recalled the nights she’d spent in the Jedi libraries. “The gravity absorbs the radio waves.” 

“Oh, you’re a hyperspace engineer now?” Ponds asked, grinning. “Cuz I’m not, but what you said sounds about right. Sometimes we have to reboot the transmitter to get it to pick up the frequencies again.” 

“Commander Ponds,” came another voice, and Rex approached the group. “Good to see your ugly mug down here with us.” 

Despite the jab, he and Ponds clasped hands. “And yours, Captain,” the commando replied with a grin. “Nice to know the 501st is coming in behind us.” 

They settled in to talk, and Sol drifted away. She rather wondered where General Windu was, too. Depositing her helmet with the boys where they were inventing a game with a bunch of pebbles, she wandered back out into the jungle a little to wait.

-----

Mace Windu finally made his way out of the tangle of the undergrowth and into the encampment as the sun was sinking low enough that its light barely made its way through the trees, and the deeper parts of the jungle were already shrouded in darkness. Everyone with half a title in the group rose to meet him, and he held up his hand as though to wave away the formalities of greetings.

“Kenobi’s men are holding, for now. As soon as they give their signal, Lightning Squad and I will move out and work on infiltration. Once we give our signal, you’ll be coming in the back door we’ll be creating for you,” he said to Skywalker.

“That’s one way to phrase blowing a hole in the wall, sir,” Ponds said wryly. 

“Your men are to clear everything out from the inside that you can,” Mace continued, nonplussed by his commander’s commentary. Then the Jedi’s eyes flickered up to meet Sol’s as he saw her enter the circle. 

“General,” she said, nodding in her way.

“Your timing is perfect, Sergeant Tannor. We were just going over the plan, and this is the part where Cronos Squad is going to find out what’s going on in there.” The suggestion of a smile was on his otherwise sober features, but Sol didn’t match it.

“Your interdiction field theory is backed up by the transmitter problems Ponds told us about,” she said. “If they’re testing it, the gravity wells will be drawing in the sub-sound frequencies in the area.” 

“I wasn’t aware you knew so much about this, Sergeant,” Mace said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s my history, sir.” 

“I see.” He eyed her curiously before turning to the rest of the group. “I trust you all know your part in this?” 

“We won’t let you down, General,” Anakin replied with a nod. Mace folded his arms into his robes and let his face fall even more serious than usual.

“Good.” 

And that was the end of the briefing. 

“Sir,” Sol murmured as the others peeled away. “May I speak with you for a moment?” 

“I thought you might ask,” Mace replied in a tone that carried something like fondness. He followed her back out into the jungle a little ways, up to a spot she chose just above the encampment to gaze out into the sea of purple.

“What’s troubling you, young one?” he asked as they each sat on the shoulder of a large outcropping of rock covered in lavender moss. 

“If I told you all of it, we’d be here all night,” she said rather dryly. “But there were two things I wanted to seek your guidance with.” 

“Of course.” 

“On Talasea, something happened. I used the Force in anger.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead gazing down at her armored knees. 

“I heard you defeated the leader of the bounty hunters who were guarding that compound,” Mace said. 

“Yes, but that’s how I did it. The leader was a Mando… the one who murdered my mother.” Now her golden eyes flickered back up towards him, and he saw a measure of shame there-- and the glimmer of lingering anger, too.

“I see.” His dark eyes fell pensive for a moment. “Why is that concerning you?” 

“Because I don’t know if I could have controlled it,” she answered with an honesty that only seemed to come easily around her former master. “I’m afraid of it happening again. I don’t think I remembered anything you taught me during that fight. I was led by blind rage, and it was just as powerful as you always said it would be.” Mace shifted almost imperceptibly, taking in her words before he spoke again.

“The reports say that you ordered the wounded away from the fight before it began. That you protected them in your effort.” 

“I thought of that a few seconds before I stopped thinking of anything at all.” 

“And you’re afraid this might happen again?” he asked calmly.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “And that next time I won’t incidentally be protecting anyone, or ending a battle.”

“Do you think it was incidental?” He almost smiled, feeling a confidence that he rarely did lately. Her brow furrowed.

“I didn’t consider any other option,” she said finally. 

“I won’t tell you that what you did in seeking revenge was right,” Mace told her in a voice that was more gentle than usual. “But there was a purpose served that day which I believe to be the will of the Force. Your fear alone suggests that you wish not to be consumed by hate, and that is the first step to never becoming so. If you can feel your anger but not feed it before or after the deed is done, you’ll always be on the right path.” 

Sol blinked, turning his words over in her mind. He knew she wasn’t sure she was convinced. “I hope you’re right, alor.” 

“I do too,” he almost chuckled. “But, I have faith. What was the other matter you wished to discuss?” 

This time, she seemed to struggle more to find the words she wanted.

“Ko Sai,” she began. The name rang sharp in Mace’s ears with all the mild panic that came behind it during meetings with the Chancellor and the council. “I know we’re tracking her to try and prevent her selling her research to the Separatists. But do we even know what research that is?” 

He chose his answer very carefully. “We know what the implications of her research are. The potential it has goes in many directions, none of which we want to give to the Separatists.” 

“And what are they?” For the first time, she looked at him with a challenge in her eyes. Mace saw it plainly, and of course he didn’t flinch. He only regarded her like any master might regard a pupil, almost pleased to see her finally questioning him. 

“Her research opens possibilities of further editing the clones’ genome,” he said after a moment. “Which could have disastrous results, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Does extending their lives to that of normal humans constitute a disaster?” she asked, and the edge fell out of her voice, though the persistence didn’t. “Because their aging process seems to be a focus of her work.” 

“That wasn’t the first thing on the Republic’s mind in this instance, I don’t believe.” He was a little surprised by the question. It felt like a strange thing for her to be so intently concerned with.

“I’m sure it wasn’t. These are humans that they’ve grown. Men whose lives don’t seem to be the first thing the Republic considers in any instance,” she said, glancing back down to where the forest of tent-tops was clustered. “They grew up twice as quickly so they could die young. I wonder if the Republic will use what Ko Sai knew to change that when they won’t even grant them the rights of every other citizen.”

“I understand, Sol,” Mace said, starting to sense that there were many threads that had led the young girl to worry about such a thing. “I wish I had answers. But this is the sort of point that is best brought up before the Senate, at a time when the rights of our soldiers are being considered. Which may happen sooner than you think.” 

Her look did not suggest that it would be sooner than she thought. Instead of pushing back again she just sighed. “These men have fought as hard as any of the Mando’ade would,” she told him. “They are the most loyal soldiers any army could be made of. If we can grant them the lives they deserve instead of cutting them short, shouldn’t we? We pour money into medicine that will keep ordinary citizens from dying. Some diseases kill anyway, so we pour money into making that death easier. For these men, so far, we’ve done neither.” 

“I sense that this greatly upsets you. But I also sense that there’s a deeper cause to your pain.” He watched her, waiting as a familiar sequence of desire, resistance, shame, and finally surrender made its way over her features. She took a deep breath.

“Before my knees were replaced, the medical droid told me that new research had come in from Kamino. That they were no longer studying my genes. They reported that research to the Jedi, didn’t they?” 

He hadn’t thought of that report since the day he’d received it. Now, he remembered the reason that his mind had pushed it aside. “They did,” he replied quietly.

“So you know that my condition is degenerative,” she almost whispered. “That even if I survive this war, I will die before my time.” 

A silence hung between them, weighed down by not only her sadness but his own.

“Yes, I saw that as well,” he said. 

“The Kaminoans believe that I can’t be cured. I accept that. But I do not want the same for these men.” She looked back down again, and Mace heard a distant burst of laughter from some unseen group of clones. “I know you can’t change the way everyone thinks of them. But will you remember their fate in the moments when it matters most?” 

His nod was gentle, understanding. “I will.” He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Sol looked back at him.

“Vor entye, alor.” She used the formal thanks, the one which literally meant ‘I accept a debt’. He got the strongest impression that she wasn’t simply thanking him for what they had discussed. 

“Sol! There you are,” came a voice, and Ponds was climbing up towards their perch. “You owe me an arm wrestling match, y’know. There’s some lads below who’d like to see it. If I’m not interrupting anything, General,” he added, looking at the Jedi.

“You aren’t, Commander.” Mace looked back at his former student. “Unless you need anything else, Sergeant?” 

Sol shook her head. “No, sir. If you’ll excuse me,” and she rose to her feet, “I have to go win a wrestling match.” 

Mace watched her descend, quickly falling into the playful antagonism of siblings or old friends with the commander. The first clone she’d ever joked or sparred with. Once they’d vanished beneath the tent, he sighed and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t ponder her words too closely-- there was nothing to pick apart. She was right. These men who called him General deserved whole and complete lives of their own, if ever this wretched war would end. No member of the Jedi Council would argue that point, he felt sure. But neither could he fathom how to grant them that right, not right now.

Instead he meditated, seeking the comforting emptiness that eluded him so regularly. Even if he never found it again, the journey was a familiar one. The Force was alive all around him. That was a comfort of its own, at least until the throbbing presence of whatever it was that lurked at Two Moons made itself known. A distant, ominous tangle that he would need his slim reserves of peace to confront. For a while it was like he and it were two loth-wolves eyeing each other in the dark, each trying to size up their opponent. 

Then Kenobi’s signal came over his communicator. Sighing, Mace opened his eyes to the shadows of the jungle and made his way back down to the tent. 

“Aw, c’mon!” One of Anakin’s men was shouting, the rest of the onlookers all a-murmur as they watched, rapt, while Commander Ponds and Sol Tannor’s locked hands strained against one another. Mace hid a little grin and watched with them for a moment. The two glared at one another, intent, as they pushed with all their strength. Ponds would growl and look at his hand sometimes, especially when it wavered, but Sol never looked away. Every minute sway of their arms one direction or the other seemed to draw a response from the men who were crowded around, frustrated with how evenly the two were matched. 

“Ponds!” Mace called, and his distraction meant that Sol sent the clone’s armored hand slamming down into the crate they were arm-wrestling on. Shouts and groans went up from all the onlookers and from Ponds, but Sol was laughing. “It’s time to move out!” 

“Right away, sir,” the commando said. He frowned at Sol. 

“I know, I know. Interference,” she said to him, grinning. “We can go again later, if you’re not too scared.” 

“Oh, I look forward to it, pipsqueak,” Ponds replied with a grin of his own. Then he hauled himself up to his feet. “Lightning Squad, move out!” 

Sol was standing too. “Blow that hole in the wall nice and wide for me,” she said. “We got a lot of verde to fit in those ruins.” 

“Loud and clear, Sarge,” he said, clasping hands with her again. 

“Oya!” And she grinned. Mace saw in her every move just how at home Sol felt with the clones, how much shine she’d taken to their war-haunted ranks. It wasn’t just that she was good at what they did, he thought. It was that they’d taken her in as one of their own, given her a family she’d never had. As white and yellow armor filed up beside him, he met her eyes one final time. They nodded at one another, not needing words, and then he turned and led his commandos out into the wild dark. 

Chapter Text

Moraga, in the jungle outside Two Moons ruins, 501st encampment, day 2

It was the morning after Lightning Squad had departed, and already Rex could sense Skywalker’s sincere attempt to suppress his eagerness to join the battle. They were more than ten klicks away, truly tucked into the purple blanket of the jungle awaiting their call to move in and stab the Seps in their backs. He wasn’t fond of loitering around awaiting orders himself, truth be told, but there was nothing for it. So Rex found himself cleaning his DC-15 after a breakfast of proper wet rations— at least there was that smallest of comforts, about a day and half’s worth of them, to make sure that dry rations could be easily carried once they left camp— and then sitting, doing nothing. 

He was up earlier than most anyone else, except Skywalker who was meditating under the tent’s awning. The jungle had been alive and well all night, and the morning made no dent at all in the ambient racket of whatever fauna lived in it. Rex hoped faintly that he was used to it by the time he had to try and sleep again tonight. He’d finally gotten up and decided to make himself familiar with the area around the camp’s perimeter when he looked over at Cronos Squad’s little corner of the tent.

The sight that greeted him struck him unexpectedly. Each of them was down to their regulation blacks, armor neatly stacked nearby. He wondered at their willingness to take it off while in potentially hostile territory. But more than that, he marveled at how they were all sleeping in a dogpile together. Stone was on his back, Swift and Twofer tucked up on either side of him. Grip was curled up against Swift, and Swift’s arm was stretched out over Stone’s broad chest. In the valley between their two bodies, Sol was nestled with her head resting on Swift’s arm. She seemed even smaller than usual tucked up against them all. Her white hair was in a low ponytail that didn’t prevent it from splaying out all over, like a splatter of white paint on the pile of black-clad bodies. They almost seemed to be breathing in time, like they were always in sync with one another. 

The last time he’d slept curled up with someone came involuntarily to his mind, and he pushed that away despite the fact that its distant ache lingered. It was deeply endearing to see the commandos, who were still of nearly legendary status to his shinier troops, all taking such a basic human comfort from each other. He knew that if he wandered a bit more around the camp he’d probably find clusters of white and blue armor like that as well.

Something about the way Sol’s white eyelashes laid against the brown skin of her cheek, the fact that she could sleep at least sometimes with the trust of her squad enveloping her, was reassuring to him. It made him envious, he knew that too, but it was neither here nor there. Once, it had felt safer to be near or touching a vod while sleeping. He tried to take the reassurance with him as he donned his bucket and began to make his way around the edge of camp. He had time to see to his men’s wellbeing personally for once, so he took it. 

It was almost nightfall when he came back towards command, having checked in with every platoon on his journey. The smell of someone heating wet rations over a sheet burner drew his attention as soon as he took his helmet off. 

“Captain!” called Fives, who was sitting around a circle of the thin little flaps of thermal foil that were warming half a platoon’s worth of food. “We got you one ready, sir!” 

“Thank you, vod,” Rex replied, for once genuinely pleased with what his men had gotten up to in his absence. “How’d you know I was so hungry?” 

“Sarge saw you circling the perimeter earlier today while she was out wandering,” said Grip from nearby. “We figured you’d be ready to eat once you made it back.” 

“Wandering where, exactly?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

“Just higher up the rocks nearby,” came a woman’s voice, and he turned to see Sol approaching. She was armored from the waist down, but her top half was down to blacks still. “I’ve been trying to peek up high enough to see the ruins without popping my head up over the canopy, but I don’t think that’s possible from our vantage point.” 

“This is the part where I remind myself that you’re not under my command, so I don’t have to fret over your decision to go out scouting when nobody asked you to.” Rex chuckled, and reached out to take the packet of noodles and meat that Fives was handing up to him. Swift was handing a packet to Sol now, which she took and eyed closely. 

“Did you just try to swap mine for the nuna?” she asked him with a deep frown. 

“Now Sarge, do you really think—”

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” Her face was far from impressed as she handed the packet right back to him. “I will smack you out fifty klicks into the jungle and leave you there, y’know.” Swift pouted dramatically. 

“You’re really gonna leave me with the nuna again, Sol’ika?” he pleaded. In answer, she shoved the food under his nose. 

“It was in your pack, you get to eat it.” Twofer and Grip were stifling their laughter, and Stone was grinning. 

“What if I—”

“Swift,” she cut him off with a tone that was almost too patient. 

“Fine,” he muttered, and handed her another foil before taking the one from her hand. “I gotta start paying more attention to what I’m picking up.” 

“If you’d asked me nicely, I might’ve considered trading with you, y’know,” she intoned with a saccharine smile, moving around the circle to take a seat between Stone and Rex. Swift sighed into his foil pouch and proceeded to eat it anyway. 

“Ori'beskaryc, I think is the word for you, just now,” Rex said to her. 

“You’ve been studying, huh?” She grinned back at him. “I’m only hard on him when I have to be, obviously.” 

“I see you and I take similar leadership styles, then,” he chuckled, taking another welcome bite of something that almost resembled food. 

“Sir, didja find anything interesting while you were making the rounds?” asked Echo from his other side. Rex shook his head. 

“Nah, just a bunch of hungry, bored soldiers.” 

“Misery loves company,” Fives said cheerfully.

“We’re not quite miserable yet, brother,” Twofer piped up. “‘Cept poor Swift with his nuna over here.” Laughs went up around the circle, and Twofer leaned over to rub his squadmate’s bald head playfully. Swift just sighed again and chewed dutifully.

As the group fell to banter and chat, Rex felt the sensation come over him once again that he was watching from far away. His men seemed happy enough to have a little time to rest, even with the promise of a fight looming. Beside him, Sol was talking and laughing along with the rest, even teasing his men for the same things everyone else in the 501st knew to tease them about. Her squad seemed content to join in, even the dejected Swift. After a while he fell mostly silent, listening. 

He didn’t realize he’d also been staring at Sol almost exclusively until she turned mid-laugh and said something to him he almost was too entranced to hear. 

“Well?” she asked. “Would you?” 

“Uh, sorry,” he murmured, his face getting hot. “Can you repeat the question?” 

“Someone’s a little distracted,” Jesse said, leaning over to Kix as though his comment wasn’t obviously intended for the whole crowd to hear.

“Maybe I’ve got a lot on my mind,” Rex replied archly. 

“That’s our Captain, always overthinking it,” Kix said. “But I’ll start over. I was just asking Fives if he’d rather sleep on a bantha’s udder or fuck a—”

“You know, you should get some rest, Rex,” Sol said, waving the medic’s words off. “If you missed that story, you might have too much on your mind.” 

“Right,” he said, still awash with embarrassment. “So, you forgive me for totally missing the question, then?” 

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Of course, alor’ad.” 

“Thanks, verd’ika,” he smiled back. At that moment, Twofer rose to his feet and reached out towards his sergeant. 

“I’ll trash this for ya,” he said in a strangely flat tone as he reached for the empty foil packet in her hand. 

“Oh.” She let him take it, brow furrowed. “Vor’e, Twof. Gar jalaaha?” 

“Yeah, I just need a little air before lights out, s’all,” he replied, giving her a smile that even Rex knew was less than half-hearted. But she seemed to understand something he hadn’t spoken, and nodded. Then he walked away, pushing the empty foils into the micro-compactor before he wandered out into the darkening jungle. 

“Is he alright?” Rex asked Sol. 

“He’ll be okay,” she replied quietly. “Sometimes he just… needs a moment. He doesn’t talk about what’s bothering him much.” 

“You and he have that in common, little’un,” Stone pointed out gently as he looked down at her. 

“Hey, I’m learning,” she retorted, and the big clone just mussed her hair fondly. She looked back at Rex, and when she reached out to touch his arm gently he felt goosebumps under his blacks. “Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll clean up.” 

“You sure?” he asked.

“‘Lek,” she nodded. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Well, alright. Since you’ve all been so good about it.” He smiled, and allowed himself to touch her shoulder lightly as he hauled himself to standing. It was no more than she’d done, he told himself. 

“We got it, sir,” Fives smiled. “You go do whatever it is captains do before bed.” 

“Say, what do captains do before bed?” Swift asked with a grin that was pure mischief.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rex replied, much to the amusement of his men. He gave Sol one last smile before he made towards the spot he’d laid claim to the night before. But his eyes kept wandering out towards the jungle, realizing that the look on Twofer’s face was one he knew pretty well. 

In an effort at solidarity, he decided to wander out and check in on the commando. It didn’t take him long to find Twofer sitting up on a mossy stone just above the camp. One of Moraga’s two moons hung high in the sky, casting the world in slippery indigo shadows.

“How’s the weather out here?” Rex asked, not pretending too much to intimacy. 

“Beats the hell outta Talasea,” the other clone replied in his ever-dry tone. 

“I’d drink to that, if I had one.” 

“You looking for some quiet? I can give ya my spot.” 

“That’s alright,” Rex assured him with a wave. “Unless I’m intruding.” 

“Nah,” Twofer said. “Plenty of space up here.” Pleasantly surprised that the commando was willing to share his company, Rex climbed a bit and found a relatively flat part of the stone to perch on. 

“Damn. It’s kinda nice up here,” he found himself murmuring. The moonlight was coming through the purple membranes of some of the large leaves that grew higher up, diffusing and tinting it a little. The sounds of the camp below were comfortably distant.

“Sol found this spot about fifteen minutes after we got here,” Twofer chuckled. “She’s good like that.” 

“Yeah?” While he’d never found this member of Cronos Squad to be half as fey as his brother Swift, Rex was still a little worried about being harassed whenever one of them brought up their sergeant. Or when anyone brought her up.

“Yeah.” Twofer sighed. “She’s not had an easy go of it. I reckon there’s nothing wrong with feeling bad or missing folks now and then, but I try to remember that she’s been through worse things than most of us when I’m tempted to throw a pity party for myself.” 

“I think she knows you feel bad, and I don’t think she’d hold that against you,” Rex pointed out. “I won’t presume to know why, but everyone’s got their burdens to carry.” 

“Sometimes I think I’d be better off letting mine go,” the commando said, still looking up at the moon. 

“What’s stopping you?” Rex felt pretty good about how it didn’t sound like he was asking because he desperately wanted to know how to do so himself. 

“Y’know, I dunno,” Twofer said, sounding truly thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe I’m too comfortable being miserable. I keep thinking it’ll stop me from losing someone again.”

Rex was quiet for a moment. “So, you lost someone too, huh?” he asked finally, voice lowered. 

“Yeah. I don’t like to talk about her much.” The reply was even quieter than Rex had been, and now Twofer was looking at the mossy rock beneath him. “I guess I keep thinking that if I die on the next mission, I won’t have to worry about it anymore anyway. But that’s krayt spit if I think about it for two minutes.” 

He wasn’t sure why it was so surprising that this man would open up to him, but Rex was a little shocked. More than that, though, he was relieved. It was like he was hearing words he’d never spoken, but thought to himself a hundred times. 

“You think?” he asked.

“Yeah. One day thinkin’ like that is gonna get bad, and I’ll kriff something up for my vode. Not just when I could be having fun, but when it really counts.” Twofer shook his head. “Sol talks about some Mando’a word, shereshoy I think it is, that’s about how to enjoy your life even when you’re clinging to survival every day. To take every moment you can to its fullest even when you know you have to get up and fight and maybe die the next moment.”

“Well, that’s… an impressive word to think about, for sure,” Rex muttered, turning it over in his head. It made sense in some way that felt too far off for him to feel in his bones, but something inside him— maybe the Mando whose genes he’d inherited— understood what it could feel like. 

“She says it ‘cause she knows I need to hear it, I think.”

“Maybe something all our brothers might need to hear.” 

“All I know is, I keep thinkin’ that I can’t just stay sad like this,” Twofer said. “But I also keep feeling guilty.” 

“For what?” 

“For wanting to move on.” 

“Do you think she’d want you to be happy?” Why did the best advice Rex ever gave always end up being the advice he couldn’t seem to take for himself?

Twofer gave a brief laugh, and shook his head again as though he was astonished. “Kriff. Yeah, she would. You’re right. What about you?” he asked, finally turning to look at the captain. “Would your person want you to be happy?” 

Even with the sting he felt in his heart at that moment, Rex was relieved he’d asked. Because now he had to just say it, for kriff’s sake, and saying it made it seem more real. 

“I think he would,” he replied. Twofer grinned, and it was more genuine than most any other grin he’d ever given apart from the ones inspired by large amounts of munitions. 

“See, we’re both suckers. We gotta try this whole shereshoy thing out.” 

“How’d you say Sol described it?” But Twofer was already leaning forward to slip back off the rock and onto his feet when he turned around to respond to Rex’s question. 

“Why don’t you ask her?” he suggested with a faint grin, and then he walked off through the brush back down towards the encampment. Rex watched him go, wondering if he should really be surprised at that reply. He rubbed the back of his head and looked up at the moon, remembering a particular smile from some time ago. 

Heaving a sigh, he decided he was officially too weary to keep parsing all that out. He wandered back down to camp for lights out.

The next morning, the call to battle came early. 

Chapter Text

Moraga, somewhere in the jungle

When Sol came back to her senses, rich purple light stained everything she saw. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Massive trees and undergrowth, the sounds of wild things moving unseen through it, then stone walls and a resounding explosion— debris, the shouts of soldiers over the comm inside her helmet, masses of commando droids and B1s— white and blue— Swift, shouting, leading bodies through a back alley— a labyrinth of rooms inside a colossal building— the sear of laser fire across her vision, the sound of metal ripping— smoke— fire— fire!— the room with the massive thing in it, a tunnel? a cannon?— her vode yelling wildly in her ears, white and blue again— a flash of something brilliant and red, armored and metal bodies falling to the floor— someone shouting her name—

“Vode!” she gasped suddenly as she clambered to her feet, realizing that for some reason her helmet was gone. Looking around wildly for it as her heart started to pound, her eyes landed on a body sprawled out in a patch of wine-colored vines. His armor was white and blue. 

“REX!” The panic leapt up and out of her throat, and she tore over towards the Captain where he lay. His helmet was also missing, and there was some kind of carbon scoring on the front of his armor. She crouched low beside him, reaching out to turn him fully onto his back and turn his face towards her. His eyes were closed, his whole body limp. “Rex, hoyir!” she pleaded, casting all around her once again as her confusion deepened. They were nowhere near Two Moons, judging by the complete lack of battle noise even in the distance. Instead they were deep in the jungle, nowhere near the campground either. Everything was denser here, the air more cloying without the filter of her helmet. She looked back at Rex, shaking his head just a little in her hand as her fear caught with her frustration. “Hey! Come on, di’kut, please wake up!”

Suddenly he started to cough and blink, and something that was holding her tight by the chest let go. 

“What did you just call me?” he asked as he came to, and she could only sigh in relief. 

“Mar'e! You’re not dead,” she muttered, and finally she smiled at him and ran her hand over his short blonde buzz. 

“No, I don’t think I am.” The way his eyes cast about, he was just as confused as she was. “Where are we?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“How’d we get here?” 

“I can’t remember,” she said, shaking her head and pressing her palms up against her brow. “I can’t remember! The last thing I remember is— is the room with the giant— thing—”

“Kriff,” Rex growled as he sat upright stiffly. “Didn’t something explode? Or it… banged, at least.” 

“The flash…” But it was all in pieces, whatever it was that had happened.

“Was it the interdiction field generator?” he asked, rubbing his own forehead. 

“Maybe? I know I thought I’d found it… I thought I was disarming it…”

“Did you activate it accidentally?” 

“No,” she replied flatly. “If I had, we’d be very dead.” 

“Ah. Well, that’s good, I reckon,” he said, tone dry.

“Whatever I did, I should’ve been letting Grip handle it,” she said. “He’s the one who does that sort of thing, usually. Then again, maybe he’d be here now if he had.” 

“Speaking of here, we should try to get back there,” Rex said as he hauled himself up to standing. Sol looked up at him, sighing, trying not to live in the infuriating fact that she just couldn’t remember. He reached out to offer her his hand, and she took it to pull herself up as well. 

“I guess we’re making for higher ground so we can get our bearings?” she asked.

“Yeah. Or we could climb a tree,” he said with a little grin. 

“Might not be a bad idea.”

And they began to wade through the tangle of flora, picking their way between tree trunks and under giant fern fronds, stepping over gnarled roots and vines that grew low to the ground. Her calves confirmed that they were making a steady upward incline, and between the trees ahead she could see the slope of what must’ve been a mountain rising not far in the distance. 

“Rex, were you supposed to be in that room with us?” she asked, still trying to puzzle through the fragments.

“I think I ended up there because I was inside the building with Echo and Fives, and I saw your squad go in,” he answered. “I remember the doorway glowing, which kinda worried me at the time.” 

“Fair enough.” She pulled her leg slowly over a raised root, tugging at a nearby vine for support. “I’m worried about my men,” she added, feeling it like a churn in her stomach.

“I know that feeling,” he said, putting out his arm for her to lean on instead of the less reliable vine. Grabbing it, she vaulted over the root and landed neatly beside him. 

“Guess it doesn’t do us any good to dwell on it until we’re back at Two Moons,” she said in a low voice. 

“Probably not.” 

But she knew he was as likely not to dwell on it as she was. For a moment they continued in silence, and she tried to think of something else to talk about. 

“So—”

“I—”

Once again, they’d both started at once. “You first, this time,” she said quickly, and it was almost less embarrassing than before. 

“Oh, um, I was just going to ask you some terribly personal question about your life before the GAR,” Rex said, glancing over at her. “You know, just to see if the rumors are true.” 

“What are the rumors?” she asked, slightly mortified.

“Oh, nothing too bad,” he assured her with a grin. “Of course I’ve heard about you being at the Jedi temple, though apparently they can’t decide if you defected or if you were banished to Kamino as punishment for something. Obviously your parents were Mandalorians, at least initially, so that rules out the rumor that you were raised by wild Renan bloodwolves.” 

She giggled in spite of herself. “You made that up.”

“Psh!” He shook his head. “Me? I’d never make up something like that.” 

“Uh huh. Sure. So, they think I misbehaved at the Jedi Temple?” 

“Well, that’s just one of the theories.” 

“I can’t say they’re entirely wrong, but not enough to get in that much trouble,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I was training to join the Temple Guard. The staff—” she reached back behind her to make sure it was still attached to her back, and blessedly it was— “is the Sentinel’s weapon. I learnt it there.” 

“Didn’t like the prospect of standing by a door all day?” Rex chuckled.

“Actually,” she murmured, “I didn’t pass my training.” 

“Really? But you’re so good,” he replied, eyes wide. 

“Not at being emotionally detached, it would seem.” She looked away, a little embarrassed despite the fact that it felt like a couple of lifetimes ago, now. “You can’t just be a good fighter to be one of the jetiise. I’ve never been very strong with the Force, but that seemed to be less important than my ability to let go of everything.”

“Huh. So, how long did you train for that?” 

“About two years.”

“And then what?” 

“That was before the Clone Wars began, or just before it.” She could remember the battered array of soldiers and Jedi covered in red dust as they returned from Geonosis. The way Mace Windu’s face had looked even more grave that day than usual, how a single glance from him told her that everything was about to change. “I trained with General Windu for a brief time, but then he sent me to Kamino to train with the commandos.”

“Why?”

“To learn teamwork, he said.” 

“Oh, so you were still a bit too feral, huh?” He was smiling at her again, and every time he did she had to remind herself not to trip on whatever mess of tree-stuff she was trying to walk over. 

“Something like that,” she said.

“What about before the Jedi?” he asked innocently enough. 

The memory of her father’s death came back almost instantly, involuntarily, strikingly vivid. He was in a fray of panicking bounty hunters, a purple lightsaber ringing close by, tussling with a Trandoshan, calling him a coward— and toppling backwards over the cliff ledge, with one long, slow moment of horror washing over Sol as she watched, unable to stop it. 

The fury that came on the heels of that memory was visceral, and wanted for whatever reason to burst out of her suddenly with its teeth bared. But she held it down. 

“My father was a bounty hunter once he left the Death Watch,” she said, looking away. “I was with him. One job to the next, like all bounty hunters live.” 

Rex’s concern was palpable. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot,” he said. 

“It’s… it’s not your fault,” she replied, watching her feet. “He was a miserable man, my father. He left everything behind after my mother died, everything except the things that no Mandalorian seems to be able to forget.” 

“Like Malachor V?” His tone was gentle. Sol just nodded. “So you grew up on the run, then.” 

“Pretty much.” Her silence was part habitual unwillingness to trust anyone with stories of her childhood, part her stuffing the sudden wave of anger she’d felt deep down inside her. It was strange that it was so strong, but maybe that was because of the fight and how far away she was from being able to do anything about it. 

“Well, even that’s a lot more interesting than my story, I’m afraid,” Rex said as he climbed up onto a massive tree root. “I’m the same as any clone.”

“That’s alright,” she replied. “I’m sure you have lots of battle stories to tell, serving with Anakin.” As she hoisted herself up to follow him, the world around her suddenly spun and she lost her footing. 

“Sol!” He was already down beside her as she fumbled backward into a nest of ferns, everything spinning still. “You okay?” 

“I’m—” But as soon as she tried to stand up, the vertigo hit her again and she thudded back down to the ground. “Oof… I’m so dizzy…” 

“Here, I gotcha.” His arms were around her, hauling her upright. Her limbs felt suddenly heavy and the purple hue of everything was going darker, reddish. “Let’s go around this thing instead.” 

“Mkay,” she murmured, doing her best to walk alongside him as he supported her. “Is the sun going down?” 

“Uh, no,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “From what I can tell, it’s nearly high noon.” 

“Oh.” 

They pushed on, slowed a little by her sudden instability, and all talk fell back into Rex making sure she could take a large step or move around some obstacle. The constant ache of her joints was all the more obvious with her other senses feeling dulled. All the details blurred into one long toil, and Sol found herself starting to struggle to breathe. 

“Rex, can we stop?” she panted finally, her breaths coming in rasps. “I— I don’t know—”

“It’s alright. Here,” he said, and she felt him maneuver her onto a hard surface— must have been in the crook of another tree root, leaning her side against the mossy trunk. He crouched in front of her, brow all furrowed as he gazed up into her eyes. “How are you feeling?” 

“Heavy. Blurry. Too hot,” she said, trying to glance around. But everything was a mess, except for his face, which for whatever reason was an oasis of clear details before her. “It’s nice to see you,” she found herself saying. He smiled, seeming confused.

“Um, it’s nice to see you too,” he said. “You look a little… unwell, though, verd’ika.”

“I got so angry a moment ago,” she mumbled, her thoughts starting to blur into each other and jumble in her mind. “Where are we?” 

“Still not sure,” he said, glancing around them. “But, there’s something up ahead, I think it’s stone stairs laid into the jungle.” 

“Huh.” She tried to look, then changed her mind. “You want to follow them?” 

“Might be easier for you, if this gets worse,” he said. She nodded, reaching a wobbly hand out towards him. The feeling of his grasp on her arm, the way he tugged her close to his armored body as they started again, was comforting. Everything else around her was starting to feel hostile. After a few minutes they reached the stone steps and began to climb. 

At some point during the minor eternity of that leg of the trek, she felt him suddenly take an unsteady step, catching himself and pausing.

“You alright?” she asked, looking up at him. His face was a mask. 

“I’ll be fine,” he replied. “Let’s go, I think it’s clearer up ahead. Maybe we’ll find out where we are.” And they started again, and she could almost feel his body tensing as though trying to contain itself from leaning too far in one direction or the other. But each step was getting harder and harder for both of them, she could tell.  

At last the steps gave way to a stone flat. Rex’s knees finally gave out, and he fumbled to the ground with Sol in tow. He groaned, shifting up onto his palms as though to try and stand again. 

“It’s happening to you now, isn’t it?” she asked, voice subdued under her labored breaths. 

“I’m just tired,” he said. He elected to tumble over to sit on the ground beside her instead of rising to his full height. “There’s… there’s a view, from here.” 

Turning, Sol leveled up onto one elbow to look out over the jungle they’d been climbing through for who knew how long. Below them it sank down, an endless thicket of purple in every hue, and then stretched into the distance. But the sky was still reddish, and out on the horizon everything was drowned in red. She looked away, feeling a sudden sense of panic. 

“I don’t see the ruins,” she said.

“No, I don’t either.” Rex sighed, and reached up to rub his eyes. “I need to check my wrist comm and see if I can put out an SOS. And I think you should eat something.” 

“Eat…” It hadn’t even occurred to her, but the thought of eating made her guts twist. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Will you drink water, then?” he asked. “It would make me feel better.” 

“Ah,” she almost giggled. “For you, I’ll try.” Before she could shakily palm behind her to release her backpack, the Captain was handing his canteen over. She took it in both hands and leaned up onto her elbow to toss the water back into her mouth. It was too warm, but it also spread relief through her on its way down her throat. She handed the canteen back and wiped her mouth with her gloved hand. 

“I think I’m broadcasting a basic SOS,” Rex said after a moment. “The connection is a little fuzzy, but it says it’s going out.”

“Are we resting here tonight?” she asked, looking up at him with hope in her eyes. She didn’t want to move ever again at that moment. Not until her body went back to how it was supposed to feel; achy was usual, but this was getting worse and worse. 

“Sol…” He seemed to be deliberating, but the more he watched her face, the more he gave in. “Alright. But you have to eat something before you sleep.” 

“Deal.” She turned her head to look away from the forest below and the uncanny red that was bleeding out over the horizon, and realized that there was an opening in the rock behind them. “Wait. Was that here before?” 

Rex turned his head and frowned. “I must’ve missed it,” he said. “I don’t much like the look of it, though.” 

“We could just sleep inside the threshold. That way we’re not sitting targets.” 

“Maybe.” He was still frowning, but she knew he knew she had a point. There was no way to know where they were, but the risk of the Separatists was something every soldier in the GAR was ever vigilant of. 

“I’m still hot,” she mumbled, falling over onto her back on the stones.

“Your suit’s not compromised, is it?”

“Don’t think so.” She wriggled with discomfort. “I wanna take this kriffing armor off.” 

“Please don’t,” he said earnestly. “Not yet, anyway.” 

Sol groaned a little. “Alright. You’re right.” Of course, it would make her much more vulnerable to remove it. But the thoughts about what was safe, and what was wise, and what they needed to do or not do were all starting to bleed away from her consciousness. She laid there utterly still as Rex started to pick through his pouches to count dry rations and ammo. He still had his two sidearms, and Sol still had one of her own along with the lightsaber staff, but otherwise all their weapons were as gone as their helmets. She strayed from awareness, and the soup of thoughts and emotions that came up started to feel like they would drown her. Fear turning to terror started to chase her, an abstract shadow that loomed ever behind, furious and relentless, speaking in Nom Tannor’s voice. 

Auretii, it said. Traitor. And then it screamed. 

Chapter Text

Moraga, Second Moon temple entrance

“Buir!” Sol shouted weakly, jolted suddenly from delirium. Rex was lying beside her on his back, feeling increasingly more achy and nauseated, and he looked over in surprise. 

“Hey! It’s okay,” he told her gently. “It’s okay. I’m right here.” Sol closed her eyes, and he realized that there were tears in them. “Bad dream?” he asked. 

“‘Lek,” she murmured. She seemed wildly uncomfortable. “I can’t eat, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” he replied. “But we should have more water, probably.” 

By the time they’d managed to drink, she was apparently at the end of her tolerance for the heat. She tore off her backpack, then her pauldron, then her arm pieces and chest plate. 

“Sol…” Rex was pleading, but he stopped as soon as he started. Instead he just sighed. Deciding that the top half of her armor was good enough for now, she fell back onto the stones. He looked behind them at the doorway into the mountain, which was utterly dark inside, and he realized that the vines that grew around it were full of red flowers. He still got a bad feeling from it, but the little flat they were on felt more and more exposed as the sky grew darker. 

“Two moons,” Sol said softly, and when he turned back around to look up at the sky, there were indeed two moons. One was higher up, smaller, brighter. The other hung low and bloated near the horizon, a deep red color. They were no more strange than any other planet’s moons, but at that moment they seemed surreal. He looked back at her.

“Hey,” he murmured to her. “Stay close to me, okay?” 

“What?”

“If your armor’s off, I want you close.” 

“Oh.” She shifted, her small body pressing up against his. He moved his arm so she could lay her head on him if she wanted, and despite the plastoid she did just that. Which made him both ache with longing and worry twice as much about how exposed they were. 

“Do we need to move back to the shelter?” he asked after a moment.

“I don’t like it,” she said. 

“Oh, you’ve got that feeling now too, huh?” He sighed. Sitting ducks or rapidly increasing creepy crawlies seemed like a foolish thing to be torn between, but at that moment every bad thing felt dilated and just on the verge of overwhelming. So they laid there for a while, and eventually Rex started to feel just as hot as he was sure Sol had. He growled to himself and nudged her gently. 

“Huh?” She seemed confused, her eyes glazed in the moonlight. 

“I’m too hot now, too.” He shifted just away from her enough to sit up and start tugging the top half of his armor off. Placing it beside him, he laid back down. She stayed next to him but didn’t crowd him, only letting their arms press against each other.

“Rex,” she said suddenly, “I… I don’t know what’s wrong. But I feel awful.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he sighed. “Like my skin’s gonna peel off.”

“It’s worse than that.” She turned her head to look at him, and he thought for the first time that he saw the edge of fear in her face. “I feel… I hate this place. Everything here is terrifying.” 

“What do you mean?” He was bleary for sure, and now starting to get almost clammy on top of it, but his feelings were like a featureless fog in his mind that only seemed to sharpen around her. 

“I don’t like the door. I don’t like that moon,” and she glanced at the low red one, “I don’t like the jungle, I don’t like that we’re so far from the ruins. I keep wanting to run and scream and fight, and cry, and kriffing do something. But I can’t. I can barely move. N’or’parguur bic.” 

He blinked at her, suddenly very worried, and reached out to wrap his arms around her without even questioning it. She curled up in the shelter of his chest. Whatever she was feeling sounded worse than whatever he was, he thought. Yet she’d marched alongside him, one foot in front of the other, for what had to have been twenty klicks. He couldn’t let her get overwhelmed now.

“You know, I spoke with your vod last night,” he said.

“Twofer?” she asked into his chest.

“Yeah. He told me a new Mando’a word.” 

“Shereshoy?” He smiled when she said it; clearly it was a theme between them.

“That’s the one. But he couldn’t quite explain what it means.” Normally, Rex realized, he’d have kept that entire conversation well to himself. It had touched implicitly on some of his own wounds, and tied directly back to… well, to the woman in his arms right now. But the world was a distant blur, and the only thing he could see clearly was the moonlight coming off her hair and off her white eyelashes as she craned her head up to look at him with golden eyes. 

“It’s a very Mandalorian word,” she said.

“Could you explain it to me?” He stroked her upper arm, hoping and praying that he was soothing her. He could still see the flicker of whatever was plaguing her mind moving over her face, but she seemed to be working hard to focus on speaking to him. 

“Well, it comes from the idea that even a warrior who fights day by day to stay alive can still get the most from their life. To have shereshoy is to have a desire to live each moment very deeply— every experience of life, good or bad, seizing all of it and clinging to none of it. Relishing everything you can feel, because the next moment you may no longer be able to feel anything. Does that make sense?” 

He was a little stunned by her answer. It made him feel even more keenly just how little of his own life he’d been feeling lately, a frost of melancholy over everything he did. But now in his mildly delirious state, the sorrows and desires and fears he’d all but held at a distance were like the blood in his veins. And he wasn’t sure he liked it very much, but Sol’s expression as she’d tried to explain that word was captivating. 

“That’s so beautiful,” he said softly, smiling a little. “Almost makes me feel better.” 

She let the specter of a laugh sigh out of her lips. “Good you spoke to him.” 

“To Twofer?” 

“‘Lek. He needs someone who understands. Who can talk about things in a way he can hear.” 

“He was a little more transparent than I expected, to be honest. He lost someone close to him. Said he was having trouble letting go.” 

She nodded. “She was a girl he saw on R&R a lot for the first couple of months we were on duty. I’m sure you gathered that much.” 

“I didn’t ask what happened to her.” 

“He wouldn’t tell you if you did,” she said. “She— she died. She was from the lower levels. Apparently she was shot and killed at a bar that’s famous for that sort of thing.” 

That hurt Rex’s heart a little to hear. “Well, I think he realized that she would want him to be happy. So maybe he’s almost ready to move on.” 

“What about you?” she asked, and his heart froze at the question. Was it that obvious? Had someone told her?

“M-me?” he stammered. 

“You lost someone, serim?” Her eyes felt like brands for a moment. He swallowed, but it was too late to backpedal or lie. And he was no longer sure what the point of that would be, anyway. 

“I did.” 

At this, she buried her head a little deeper into his chest, pushed herself a little closer. “I’m sorry, Rex.” 

“It’s okay. It was almost nine standard months ago, now. He…” The words were tripping, but they were coming out anyway. “He was an engineer. A civilian who used to work at the Jedi Temple, who, um, wanted to help with the war effort. Named Farrow. He was taller than me, half Twi’lek, very handsome.” 

“He sounds dreamy,” she cooed. Rex caught himself smiling.

“He was.” When she let the silence hang for a moment, he realized he did want to say it, finally. He’d never spoken it aloud before. “Farrow died on the Redeemer when it went down over Ryloth. I was on the Resolute. We watched it go down. Destroyed by enemy fire.” A tear was sliding down his cheek, and he wanted to sob. But right now she needed him to be the one who wasn’t overwhelmed, he thought. So he’d sob about it later, when they were both safe. 

Her tiny arm wrapped around his torso, squeezing him a little. “It’s hard to watch them go,” she murmured. 

“Don’t tell me you have a sad story about an ex, too,” he half-joked, stroking her back. She shook her head, but didn’t look back up at him.

“I’m talking about my father,” she said, and he felt a shudder run through her. “I don’t have any... exes.” 

“No exes, no birthdays.” He was back to trying to joke, but it surprised him a little that she apparently had no history of lovers. Then again, with what he knew about her history, maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. “We’ll get to all that soon enough.” 

She was shaking, now, like something new and awful had come over her. She turned her head back up to look at him, and her eyes were bloodshot. “I’m so cold,” she almost whispered. He felt his guts twist up in fear, which didn’t help the fact that he still felt pretty damn sick himself. But he pulled her closer, rubbing her back and her arm gently to try and warm her up. 

“I got you, verd’ika. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Rex, rejorhaa’ir gehat’ik. T-tell me a story, please.” She sounded small and desperate, and her body wouldn’t stop shaking. His mind drew painfully blank in that moment. 

“Ah, um, well. All my stories are war stories. You want one of those?” 

“Mayen.”

“What?”

“Anything.” 

“Okay, well, I could tell you the story of how Fives and Echo joined the 501st…” 

He rambled on for a while about Rishi moon, about the giant centipede and the way he’d used a decapitated commando droid head to fool the ones inside the base. About Hevy’s sacrifice to make sure he and the men he was with got out alive and broke down the all-clear signal so help would arrive. He didn’t even know if it was coherent, but he knew when she barely smiled about the droid head that something was wrong. The world was starting to fade, the light of the moons getting redder and darker. 

“Sol? Hey, you still with me?” he asked, and her glassy eyes rolled around under their heavy lids as though she was seeing something he couldn’t. 

“I’m… I’m here…” 

“You doing okay?” 

“Aaray,” she murmured. The word for ‘pain’. Her hands were trying to clutch at him, but all the strength was drained out of her.

“What hurts?” He was starting to feel much more than nervous, but the fear wouldn’t move through him quick and hot like it usually did. It felt like a weight instead, keeping him pinned to the stones they laid on. He pulled her up close to try and watch her face, not knowing if he would even see anything but unwilling to let her see nothing but darkness.

“Nayc. Not yet… please…” she murmured. 

“Sol!” 

“Rex?” It was like she’d forgotten that he was there, and her hands rested on him as though to confirm he was real. “I don’t want to die,” she added in a tiny voice, but she didn’t seem to be talking to him anymore. His heartbeat nearly doubled.

“Hey, little one, please,” he begged, pushing their foreheads together, panic simply oozing into the rest of the muck he was feeling. His limbs hurt, his skin crawled, and she fell more and more limp in his arms. “Please listen, okay? You’re alive, you’re right here with me. You’re not gonna die.”

“Don’t leave me,” she mumbled, “Gedet'ye, ne tsikala…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sol’ika,” he said. She fell to little murmurs and mumbles, breaths coming heavy enough that he could feel them on his face. All the words were Mando’a, most he’d never heard before. He brought a feverish hand up to stroke her cheek. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. 

He didn’t know why, in fact he barely knew that he did it at all, but at that moment he shifted his head to place a kiss on her trembling lips. Maybe he thought it would distract her, or distract himself, he wasn’t sure. Rationally it was a very strange time to kiss anyone, but rational thought was as far away as the center of the galaxy. It was brief, chaste, utterly sincere. Desperate.

And right after he did it, everything fell dark.

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Grand Republic Medical Center

Anakin stood in the intensive care unit looking between the two occupied bacta tanks with frown that was hung with weary grief. Just after the interdiction field generator had gone down and the order to exit was given, something strange had happened. The Force was like a tangled knot all around the ruins of Two Moons, and he still struggled to describe it. All of his senses had felt off, peaked with paranoia and confusion. But the anomaly that had spirited Rex and Sol hundreds of klicks away into the deep jungle had been felt by every Jedi on Moraga. 

It had taken them a while to clear the city. When his men couldn’t find their captain and Cronos Squad couldn’t find their sergeant, the search had begun with a frenzy. They’d backtracked to the campsite, scoured the ruins, even searched the trading outpost and the Seps’ delivery vehicles. By the time they’d received a comm from Master Plo, whose ship had arrived to hang in orbit and assist with the final sweep and extraction, it had been almost a full standard day of hunting. 

He worried his lip as he leaned back against the cold durasteel of the wall and watched Rex and Sol’s limp bodies float in the tanks. Whatever had happened, he’d found them curled up with each other at the top of a stone stair, both unconscious and fading fast from some sickness that made no sense, bore no coherent set of symptoms that indicated what it was. The place had been dense with the presence of the dark side, Anakin knew that much. He was afraid that whatever illness they’d contracted, that would only make it worse. Their time in the bacta tanks had already been some twelve hours. Longer than anyone was supposed to need but for the most dire of injuries. 

When the doors to the ICU opened, Ahsoka walked through them and over to his side. She glanced over at the tanks and then back up at him, clearly just as worried as he was. 

“How are they?” she asked quietly.

“Not better yet, somehow,” he murmured.

“How are you?” 

“About as good as can be expected.” 

“Do they still not know what happened?” She seemed incredulous, like the whole thing should be able to be explained somehow, whether by a scientist or by a Jedi. 

“No, and I have a feeling we won’t know until they heal.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”

“Master, that’s ridiculous. Nobody knew this was going to happen! Apparently we didn’t even know it was possible,” she pointed out, hands on her hips. “You did the best you could.” 

“Thank you.” For once, he wasn’t in the mood to bicker about it. His guilt slunk away just enough not to bubble into anger that his padawan didn’t deserve to deal with. “But I’m still responsible for them, and they’re still not well. I don’t understand why.”

Ahsoka walked over towards Sol’s tank, looking up at the young woman’s dark face, high cheekbones, white hair like a cloud around her head. She put her fingertips against the transparisteel absently. Anakin saw Sol’s eyelashes flutter.

“Snips…” But Ahsoka was transfixed, brow furrowing as she stared. Sol started to move, just barely, and the narrow glimmer of her golden eyes peeked out from beneath the lashes. 

“What’s wrong?” Ahsoka asked.

“She can’t hear you, Snips,” he said.

“Don’t you feel it, Master?” Her massive blue eyes were fixed on Sol’s. Suddenly a hand was reaching out to press its fingertips against the glass in alignment with hers. When her dusty gold pupils finally emerged just enough to meet Ahsoka’s stare, the Togruta gasped. 

And then, Anakin felt it.

“They’re in pain!” Ahsoka exclaimed, turning back towards Anakin. “Master!” 

“Get these two out of the tanks!” he called out to the medical droids that were puttering around the unit. 

“But sir—”

“Get them out now, ” he repeated, cutting the little droid off. It nodded and sped away to disengage the pressure and drain the bacta fluid promptly, and all manner of equipment started to beep and blink with lights. Sol fell utterly limp again, sagging as the droids and the civilian nurses rushed over to help pull both her and Rex out and onto gurneys. “Good job, Ahsoka,” he told his padawan. “I missed it. I wasn’t paying enough attention.” 

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” she asked, watching the two bodies get wheeled off to be cleaned up and dressed in medical gowns. “There’s something… wrong.” 

“I think they need to be taken to the Jedi,” Anakin said. “Something happened out there at that place—”

“I looked it up,” Ahsoka interjected. “It’s called Second Moon Temple, and there’s another one just like it inside the ruins called First Moon Temple. Apparently the ancient species on Moraga worshiped the Force and did some kind of magic there.”

“That just confirms my fear that the dark side was involved in making them both sick,” he muttered, rubbing his chin. “I’ll have them transferred immediately.” 

-----

Coruscant, Galactic City, Jedi Temple, Halls of Healing

The first time that Rex came back to consciousness, he wasn’t sure where he was. But everything hurt so profoundly that he immediately passed out again. 

The second time it still hurt, but less so. He still didn’t know where he was, but he saw green, and dusty tan-colored stone, and sunlight. Then his body had once more collapsed back into darkness. 

The third time hurt much less. Blinking his eyes open, he realized that he was inside a huge chamber with a high vaulted ceiling, more windows than walls, and full of plants. As his eyes slowly remembered how to focus he saw a row of cots along the wall opposite him, some of them occupied with people in white or wheat-colored robes. Some were asleep, others being gently tended by what he thought might be nurses or caretakers of some kind. 

If he was in a medical center, it was far too elegant a place for a clone to be treated here. Yet there he was, laying on a cot, covered by a soft knit blanket. He decided to try to move a little. Wiggling his fingers and toes seemed to work fine, albeit rather slower than he liked. He shifted his head— that was much harder. But he could still turn it enough to look to his right and see an empty cot next to him. 

When he turned it to the left he saw Sol. She was wrapped in white robes, blanketed just like him, and lying deathly still. Rex’s heart stuttered, and suddenly he remembered vaguely the amazing toil of their climb up the mountain. How they’d gotten from there to here, he had absolutely no notion at all. He was still too weak to even speak, he realized, as her name tried to leave his lips to no avail. He shut his eyes, relief coming over him in a massive wave. 

She was here with him. They were safe. Alive. He felt his lungs heave with a deep, slow inhale. Then he let his eyes slide back open just a little, and realized that someone else was approaching. 

Stone was wearing his leisure fatigues and carrying a little bowl with a clean white cloth hanging out of it. He moved a stool from nearby closer to Sol’s bed and sat on it, placing the bowl at the little table next to him. She was propped up just like Rex was, fully unconscious, her arms by her sides under the blanket. Someone had pulled her hair all to one side of her head, and it splayed out over her robe in a tangled mess. 

Rex watched beneath heavy eyelids as the big clone lifted the cloth up from his bowl, wrung it a little, and then reached over to gingerly wipe the damp corner of it over Sol’s face. Once on either side of her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across each cheek, along her jaw, over her chin and upper lip. His gentle strokes then went over her eyelids and white brows, then closer along the crevices of her nostrils, and then over to her ears where he wiped behind them as well. Every motion was tender and heavy with grief. That finished, he pulled a comb out of his pocket and began to run it through her long hair as best he could without disturbing her. When it was shiny and no longer knotted he took it into three sections and braided it for her with quick fingers. Tying it off with a little leather thong, he sat back to look over his handiwork, to make sure his vod was tended properly.

Then, Stone closed his eyes and laid his head down on the pillow next to Sol’s. His hand rested on her arm, and his shoulders sagged. Rex felt a tear sliding down his own cheek as he watched. He knew suddenly that, while he was awakening in bursts, Sol hadn’t woken up yet. The weight of Stone’s body beside her made it clear that the big clone was terrified that she might never wake up. 

Don’t worry, big guy, he thought. She’s not going anywhere, not if I have anything to say about it.

Of course, maybe what he had to say didn’t matter. But he wasn’t about to let that impossible trek through the purple hell of Moraga mean nothing, not yet.

Then his eyes became too heavy to open, and he felt himself sink deeply back into the cot as sleep stole over him once again.

-----

The first time Sol Tannor woke up, really woke up, it was like she’d gone from being made of fire to being made of air. 

Despite being unconscious, her mind had been wandering through a sprawl of experiences from the moment she’d started to fall ill in the jungle. She didn’t remember much of what really happened, only that every ghost she had was following her the entire time. Her mother, her father, Thar Vizsla. B’arin Apma wasn’t dead, but he haunted her anyway. Then there were others; bounty hunters, con men, smugglers, one bloated and slimy Hutt whose low burble of a laugh made her want to plunge the nearest object through his head. A girl, a Twi’lek, young, determined, her chains rattling behind her as she ran. A Wookie bellowing for his freedom. A child who looked just like her alone in the darkest corner of a ship, weeping noiselessly as her joints radiated pain through her tiny body. 

But now she was empty, released from the prison of her own nightmares. The sun was streaming in from the high windows. She blinked and realized where she was.

Master Vokara Che was down the row of cots, speaking in her resonant voice to another patient. Sol could even feel the gentle twinge of the Force as Che did what she was so beautifully trained to do. The Halls of Healing had been a place Sol had avoided. One day she’d slipped as her mind wandered mid-drill and split her head wide open on the corner of a cabinet in the training hall. She knew the Healers would sense her pain, the pain she always carried with her, and knew that Che took the healing process very seriously. But, after healing up the bleeding cut on her head, Che hadn’t said a word about anything else and had returned Sol to her training. 

She was still grateful for that, lying there on the cot. Truly, she was grateful for everything. Grateful to be free of the fears that had almost eaten her alive, grateful to be back inside the Temple, grateful that someone had found her, grateful that Rex—

Rex. She turned her head and saw him fast asleep on the cot next to her. His face looked almost peaceful, his hair getting a little longer than he liked it, his scruff getting thicker than he liked it too. A laugh bubbled up inside her, released in a few breathy chuckles, relieved beyond belief. Somewhere in the nightmare she’d stopped being able to clearly see his face. But his voice had come through the fog for a time, keeping her from slipping into madness. Lying there in the light of the two moons, almost as delirious as she was, he had been steady and kind and even tried to make her laugh. That was what she remembered. He made her feel safe when the darkness was all around, gnashing its teeth. 

At that moment his eyes slid open. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at her. A smile broke slowly over his face, and to her it was like watching the sun rise.

“Sol,” he said, his voice still quiet and low with exhaustion. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Good to see you back,” she replied, smiling in return. Carefully she reached out her hand towards him. He saw it, and reached with his own. They were just far enough away that only their fingers could overlap, but even that touch resonated through her whole body. “Your roots are showing, by the way,” she added, grinning just a little. Despite his weakened state, he laughed. 

Now she knew she was really back, really awake, really alive. 

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Jedi Temple, Halls of Healing

By the time they were both cleared to leave, Kix had come by to perform a cursory medical check of the more mundane variety. Master Che had allowed it, seeing as they were both members of the GAR and she was satisfied with her own ministrations.

“How are the men?” Sol asked as the 501st medic watched the readout on his datapad, checking her vitals with a quick scan. 

“Everyone’s fine, love,” he assured her. “You missed all the exciting injuries by a long shot.” 

“What about the mission report? Shouldn't I be debriefing with the General?” Rex frowned.

“You, sir, are on R&R, mandatory, all day tomorrow. We can talk about the technicalities at the end of that time.” Kix frowned right back at him. 

“What the kriff am I supposed to do all day?” 

“Rest? Relax? Try and have some fun, for a change? Doctor’s orders.” Kix’s datapad blipped happily as he turned back to Sol. “Alright, you’re all good to go. May I suggest that you both go back to the barracks and get some sleep?” 

“We’ve been asleep for days, vod,” Rex pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s almost 0000 hours,” the medic replied. “You woke up at a weird time, sir. You might as well settle in for the night.” 

“Vor’e, Kix,” Sol said as she slid off the cot and looked down at the white and tan robes she was wearing. “Did you happen to bring us some clothes?” 

“I did, in fact.” Kix smiled, picking up two sets of off-duty fatigues. “Sorry I couldn’t find any that were you-sized, though, love,” he added to Sol. She just laughed, and Rex smiled in spite of himself when he heard the sound. 

“It’s okay, I haven’t bothered to order any that fit.” She took the proffered cloth and handed one set over to Rex. “We can change over in the ‘freshers, and then head home. It’s not a far walk.” 

“Right then, you two. Try not to get magically zapped a hundred klicks away this time.” Kix was smiling as he began to gather his equipment. 

“You coming with us?” Rex asked.

“Nah, gotta run this stuff back to the med center before I can go to bed,” he replied. “I’ll be along.” 

So Rex followed Sol to the refreshers. Once inside he changed from the strangely soft Jedi garb into the sturdy fabric his skin knew better. He returned the robe to one of the attendants, and went to wait outside the entrance for Sol. 

When she emerged, he couldn’t keep from smiling. Seeing her in the proper light of the Jedi Temple, she did look tiny in the clone-sized fatigues. She’d ditched her slippers, and her bare toes barely peeked out from beneath the dusty rose-colored fabric. 

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm for her to take. She just smiled and wrapped her hands around his elbow, and together they started down the hallway. “You’re gonna have to show me the way out of here, though,” he added, lowering his voice. She snorted.

“Don’t worry, alor’ad, I won’t let you get lost.” 

“You’re an angel.” As they walked, Rex started to feel a little antsy. Muddled memories of their shared incoherence on Moraga had surfaced, and one in particular was standing out. “So, um, what do you think happened down there?” 

“I still don’t know,” she replied. “I can’t remember a lot. Something strange with the Force, I think, but I couldn’t say what.”

“Hm. Yeah.” 

“I do know that I might not have made it without you there,” she added, and her tone was utterly sincere as she looked up at him.

“Oh, I dunno about that,” he murmured, blushing a little.

“I do.” She was very decisive. “Your voice kept me from slipping away for a long time. Master Che said that if I’d gotten much deeper into that state, she might not have been able to get me out.”

“Oh yeah? My babbling helped? That’s a first,” he said, chuckling sheepishly. “I mean I tried just about everything to keep you with me. Bad jokes, scary stories, actual begging, a hug, a kiss, some very off-key singing…” 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been scary, down there.” 

“It was, a bit,” he admitted, wondering if he’d slipped his confession in a little too casually for her to notice. “But we made it out alright.” 

“Yeah.” She just smiled at him. For a while they didn’t talk much, but she steered them down the right passages. Finally they were outside the Temple and walking without any hurry along the breezeway towards the GAR offices. The night was full of the city’s lights and sounds, but nobody was wandering around headquarters this late. Sol was walking close to him, he realized, their bodies always touching in some way other than the hand that stayed looped through his arm. He was trying to get up the courage to actually address what had happened towards the end of his conscious time on the stone stairs when she spoke again. 

“Rex, what do you remember?” she asked quietly. 

“Uh,” he began eloquently. “Well, I remember you starting to get sick in the jungle. You were having trouble walking, and breathing. We were halfway up the steps to the landing in front of that door when it hit me, too.”

“I remember that. I kept getting hotter. Worried my suit was broken.”

“Me too, but you didn’t seem to think so. Eventually some of the armor had to come off, for me as well. It was… unpleasant.” That was one word for it, he thought.

“I remember you wanting to shield me. Thank you, for that,” she said, smiling softly at him. “I knew it was possibly unsafe. But nothing mattered except how hot I was.”

“Do you remember your bad dream?” he asked.

“Hm.” Her face drew itself into a troubled frown. “Some of it. My father… I saw him. I kept feeling the anger I felt when he died. Which… is the same anger I felt on Talasea.” 

Rex recalled the way she’d fought on that dank little planet. It had, for a moment, almost seemed like the way a Jedi would fight. He didn’t know how else to describe it; she ran through a serious wound as though it were hardly a scratch, moved things (Thar Vizsla, mostly) without touching them, took enormous jumps that defied the human body to land, used that saber-staff she had from her Temple days to reflect blaster shots. All things he had watched Skywalker, Kenobi, and Ahsoka do before. But there had been something unbridled about it, even compared to Skywalker’s killing moods, and he’d never seen the strange plasma blades of the Jedi weapons thrust so venomously through an enemy, never in such a… well, a cruel place as the throat. Jedi went for the heart, most often, when they were forced to turn their weapons on non-metal enemies. Drowning in blood was a much slower way to die.

Moraga hadn’t shown him even a flash of that fury, even if she had been feeling it.

“You seemed like a lot of emotions were coming over you, down there. I never felt threatened, just so you know,” he assured her.

“Jate. I was worried… well. Anyway. I remember you telling me about Twofer, after that.” She seemed unwilling to dwell on the subject of her nightmare, but relieved nonetheless. 

“Yeah. I thought talking about your vod might help distract you,” he said. 

“It did help. I remember you telling me about your lost love, too.”

Her phrasing was striking, and so sweet that it almost didn’t hurt to think of the handsome Twi’lek when she said it. Rex glanced away, more than one emotion vying for his attention at that moment.

“Farrow?” he asked.

“Elek. You told me he was an engineer, and that he died on a ship over Ryloth. I am sorry, by the way,” she said, looking up at him again, placing her free hand on his upper arm that was still linked with hers. “It seemed to pain you very much. You didn’t have to tell me.”

“I wanted to.” He remembered that, more clearly than the words he’d spoken. Words weren't the important part; it wasn’t like he didn’t know the story, hadn’t seen it a thousand times over in his head, his nightmares. He looked down to meet her gaze and offered a sad smile. “I’d never spoken aloud about it before. It was past time.”

“Not even to one of your vode?” 

“No. Many of them were there when it happened, anyway.” He couldn’t believe the weight that seemed to slip off him the more he said about it. The pain was still there, of course, but so was a relief he’d never imagined. 

Sol’s face changed, eyes larger, brow knit like she was confused but not unhappily so. “Thank you for the honor, then.”

He chuckled softly. “It might’ve been the oncoming insanity, but I don’t regret it,” he said, his smile less sad. “You seemed to understand. Despite telling me you didn’t have any exes of your own.” Now he was teasing her just a little, but he’d have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t curious about that topic.

“I don’t,” she confirmed, looking away from him. He thought she seemed a little embarrassed. 

“That’s alright, by the way. I was just a little surprised to hear it at the time.” 

“Why?” she asked, the question totally sincere from what he could tell. 

Because she was so kriffing beautiful, he thought.

“Well, you’re… not a clone. Most people seem to have a story like that. Except Jedi, I guess, but you’re not one of those either.” 

“Oh.” Her mouth scrunched a little, like she had her own words she wasn’t sure how to say. “Um, no. Of course, my time at the Jedi temple didn’t really… you know. It wasn’t a possibility. Before that, I spent all my time with my father on his bounty hunting jobs. I never got close enough to anyone for it to matter, and I don’t suppose I ever felt much inclination back then anyway.” 

“Why not?” he asked, and realized that their steps had become incredibly slow, as though neither of them wanted to arrive back at the barracks just yet.

“I suppose my concept of love wasn’t very… positive,” she said, looking out at the air traffic. “My father was always miserable after he lost my mother. I can’t remember a time when he was happy. He would speak about shereshoy, but he couldn’t live it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rex replied, ever so quietly. The parallel between her father and himself in that moment was a little too plain.

“Cuy ogir'olar,” she sighed. 

“You might have to translate that one for me.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past, and I couldn’t have saved him from it. Nobody could.”

“I reckon he would have had to save himself.” Perhaps, of course, because Rex was beginning to realize that he had to save himself, too. But he still didn’t know how. The fear of loss was lingering, even as he walked with Sol on his arm and the lights of Coruscant glistening off her dark skin and her white hair in equal measure. 

“You’re right. We all do, when our enemies live inside us.” There was a ghost of trepidation in her expression when she said it, as though she might know the feeling. “I think that’s what Master Windu tried to teach me. But it’s hard to understand, so it must be hard to teach, too.” 

“Yeah.” 

A silence came over them, more anxious than awkward. The barracks were very close, and Rex couldn’t quite sort out his thoughts. It was good to tell her about Farrow, he knew that much. The rest was a thicket he was trying to pick his way through, permeated with equal parts fear and the ache of— Maker. He really was pining. Kix and Echo had been right. 

“I don’t remember very much after that,” Sol said, interrupting his thoughts. “I began to see things… visions, maybe, or memories. They weren’t clear at the time, but I know I felt like something was chasing me.”

“So you don’t remember me telling you about Rishi moon?” he asked. She shook her head. 

“I mean, there was something about a centipede…?”

“I’ll have to tell you again sometime,” he said, grinning.

“Please do,” she chuckled. They were passing through the shadow of the first couple of buildings at the entrance to the barracks halls. He’d run out of time, and maybe some subconscious part of his mind had done it on purpose. Or, maybe he was just seeking a way to purge some of the gunk that was coming between them, first.

And there it was, the doorway into the 501st’s wing. His footsteps stopped almost the same time that hers did. 

“Thank you, by the way. For telling me about, um, your past, since I know you’re not usually in for that sort of thing,” he said. It seemed only right to thank her just as she’d thanked him. 

A little smile came over her face. “Thank you for listening.”

“I guess this is goodnight, then.” His voice was quiet. Her arm was still linked in his. She turned towards him without letting it go just yet. 

“Rex, I wish…” She sighed, and his heart stood still. “I wish you hadn’t put yourself in danger like that. But, I’m terribly glad that you did.” She squeezed his forearm with both hands gently.

“I guess I am too, since you’re alright. I might’ve gone mad, waiting for you to recover for this long,” he replied, trying to grin. She laughed, though it was more like another sigh, and her arms finally slid away from him. He hated their absence.

“I should go,” she murmured, turning away from him. In a moment of something that was on the edge of panic, he reached out to her retreating form and grabbed her hand.

“Sol?” 

She turned back awfully quickly, it seemed. “‘Lek, Rex?” 

But there was a hard lump in his throat, and his chest was wrapped like a vice around his heart. “Um, are you doing anything tomorrow?” he managed.

“Ah, just spending time with my vode, I guess,” she replied. “You?”

“The same, probably. Maybe I could catch you for dinner? Or you know, whatever time, really.” The least he could do was give himself another opportunity not to kriff this up.

The way her face softened and she smiled melted him a little. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Okay.” He let go her hand reluctantly. “Goodnight then, Sol.”

“Jate ca, Rex.”  At last she drew away. He watched her go, the overlong pants of her fatigues dragging along the permacrete path behind her. Before she turned the corner to the commando units, she looked back at him and smiled again. He smiled back, and finally she vanished. 

He had to do something about this, one way or another. The burn on his cheeks left him one hundred percent sure that there was no going back to that old state of being frozen in grief. But he couldn’t seem to find the thing that held him down, kept him from saying what needed to be said. Maybe he should talk to one of his vode. 

It would have to be Cody, he thought. Cody would understand in a way the others might not. Turning at last towards the entrance to the building, Rex squared his shoulders with resolve and went inside.

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

“I can’t explain to you two just how good it is to see you walking and talking again,” Anakin said as he stood up from his much neglected desk inside the GAR offices. “You really had me worried for a minute there.” 

Rex and Sol stood before him, their breakfast in the mess interrupted by the Jedi General’s summons. Rex was in fresh leisure fatigues with his hands crossed behind his back in his usual, proper at-ease posture. Sol, who was wearing a utility jumpsuit that actually fit her with a GAR logo on its shoulder, was standing the way she always did. Both of their stances, so characteristic of their personalities, were reassuring to the Jedi. 

“I think we’d have worried ourselves, if we were conscious enough to bother, sir,” Rex said. 

“What was it like? Did you experience anything unusual while you were recovering?” Anakin asked, thinking back to the ominous Force presence that had cast its pallor over Second Moon temple. 

“Other than some nightmares, nothing for me, no,” Rex replied with a shrug. “And I’m used to nightmares. I think all soldiers are.” 

Anakin nodded, a little pang of understanding running through him. After his most recent time on the Coronet escorting senators to Coruscant, he’d had nothing but nightmares about Padme and the risks of her position. But he pushed it into the back of his mind, where such fears always lingered.

“You, Sol?” He looked at the young woman’s golden eyes closely as they glimmered almost imperceptibly— recalling something, he realized.

“It’s… I could call it nightmares, I suppose. But they felt much more vivid, almost like they were real,” she said, taking her time as she chose the words that seemed right. “Master Che said that I was very deep in darkness. I don’t know exactly what she meant, though I can only assume she meant that the Force was… I was stuck in it, somehow.”

It didn’t surprise Anakin to hear, but that didn’t prevent it from worrying him more. He regarded Sol, every memory he had of their little talks in between trainings or at meals in the Jedi Temple filtering through his mind in flashes. 

For all that her strength with the Force was subdued, what he could only believe was the dark side had a way of making it markedly less so, however briefly. This time he had a feeling that it had capitalized on whatever energies she harbored that had been brought out by her rage on Talasea. 

“You don’t use the Force very often, do you, Sol?” he asked, trying to choose his words carefully so as not to embarrass her. Blurting out that she was ‘weak’ with it most of the time seemed rude, and he knew she had a streak of pride. Her expression fell a little, like she wasn’t sure how to answer him. Rex turned to look at her with measured curiosity.

“I’m… not very strong with it. You’ve seen what happens when I access it, and why. So no, I don’t employ it for purposes of attack very often.”

“Did you get a sense of that place where you were, on Moraga?”

“It felt threatening, to me. Even Rex didn’t like it,” she said, looking over at the captain. 

Rex shook his head. “Not a bit. Gave me a bad feeling.” 

“Mhm. I was wondering because I sensed a great darkness there. I was afraid it might’ve been the cause of your sickness, and I have a feeling that Master Che will confirm my suspicions.” Anakin stroked his chin thoughtfully, wondering if there was anything more he could do about it now that the two of them were recovered. The Jedi Council would surely want to know about Two Moons ruins and the temples there since they’d emerged so emphatically from the forgotten annals of history. “I’m grateful we made it to you both in time to help. I’m just sorry it wasn’t sooner.”

“It’s alright, Anakin,” Sol said. “Besides, if Rex hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I would’ve made it. I still don’t know how we both ended up at that place, but I’m very grateful.” She was glancing over at the clone captain, who was looking at the ground with a self-conscious little smile. 

“Well, I still dunno how my running my mouth the whole time helped, but I’m happy to be of service,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Anakin did absolutely nothing to hide the grin that came over his face at that moment. The veritable beacon of adoration between the two of them lit up the office, the whole damn building as far as he was concerned. But they didn’t seem to know it just yet.

“Well, you two always perform superbly together,” he said. “I, for one, plan on requesting the assistance of Cronos Squad more often.”

“Now, sir—”

“When they’re not in the middle of all that top-secret commando stuff, of course,” Anakin cut Rex off, raising his eyebrows at Sol. She was just beaming like he’d never really seen her do before, and trying to reign it in— but, as he’d told her more than once before, it was difficult to lie to a Jedi.

“Any time we can be of assistance, General,” was all she said. 

“Excellent,” Anakin replied, still grinning. “Well, if you notice anything strange that you think might be related to the sickness, please let me know. Just in case there are any residual ill effects. I doubt the Force had the same effect on you, Rex, as it did for the Sergeant here. But, Sol, you might meditate if you can. That tends to reveal more, especially regarding memories touched by the Force.” 

“Yessir,” Rex said. Sol gave her usual slow nod. He knew she hated meditating, but hoped she might find it in her to do it anyway.

“Anything else we should talk about before I banish you both back to your R&R?” Anakin asked cheerfully.

“I think—”

“Actually, I wanted to maybe mention something to you,” Sol cut Rex off. “If you have a moment.” 

“Anything,” the Jedi replied very sincerely. Rex side-eyed her.

“Well… I’ve been thinking about the clones, and their rights as citizens. Or, lack thereof.” 

Anakin blinked, surprised, and noted that Rex now bore a similar expression. “What about it?” 

“I’d like to talk to someone about presenting a case to the Senate for granting them official citizenship and all rights included therein,” she said, and her tone was decisive as a senator’s in that moment. “But I don’t know anyone who might be willing to listen. I wondered if you might?” 

“Oh… well,” he murmured, brow furrowed. Then, he smiled. “Actually, I know just the lady for the job.”

“You do?” Rex asked, incredulous.

“Sure do. In fact, if you want, I could take you to the Senate and let you speak to her today. Right now, even.”

“Really?” Sol brightened.

“Of course!”

“I’d like to go, then.” 

“I, uh, I wasn’t expecting to speak to a senator today,” Rex said, looking a little nervous.

“You don’t have to go, Rex,” Sol said, and turned towards him to put her hand on his arm gently. Anakin watched as the Captain of the 501st almost vibrated at the touch. “This is my idea, after all.” 

“You sure you’re comfortable going alone?” he asked her. 

“I’ll be fine, alor’ad.”

“Yeah, I reckon you will,” Rex said with a little smile. Force, Anakin thought, he was absolutely terrible at hiding his feelings. For all Rex’s stoicism he had never been forced to lie to survive. Sol was a little less painfully obvious, at least.

“It’s settled, then!” Anakin said finally, clapping his gloved hands. “Sol, you can follow me— assuming you have your shoes on, for once. Rex, I’ll bring her back safe and sound before dinner.”

“Uh, thank you, sir?” was the captain’s befuddled reply as the other two made their way towards the exit. Sol turned around to give Rex a little wave before the door slid shut behind them. As they entered the lift to the traffic level of HQ, Anakin looked out at the mass of Coruscant, like a breathing thing in the brilliant sunshine. 

“Be careful with my Captain, Sol,” the Jedi said, all mischief. 

“What?” she asked, eyes cutting over to him, brow furrowed. 

“He’s not fragile, exactly but he’s… tender. You know what I mean.” He raised an eyebrow at her, half a grin on his face.

“Anakin, I don’t know what you mean.” Her frown was clamped down over a bashful smile, hiding all but its spirit from her face.

“Oh, yes you do. I think even someone without the empathy of the Force could tell at this point.”

“I… Anakin, why are you this way?” she murmured.

“Me? I’m just here to support my friend and my second in command!” he said, full of excessive sincerity.

“Usen’ye,” she muttered.

“Hey, I might not speak Mando’a, but I know you well enough to know that was rude,” Anakin said, pretending to chide her. “I’m just saying. You should do something about it.”

“Oh, really.” She didn’t make it sound like a question, of course.

“Yes, really.” 

For a moment, the lift was silent. 

“We’ll see,” Sol said in a soft voice.

Anakin smirked. He didn’t need to gloat anymore; she’d come as close to admitting it as she ever would. 

“I'm sure we will,” he said.

-----

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Senate Building

The inside of the Senate was simple enough to navigate if you just looked at a holomap. But once she was actually in it, Sol felt like a womp rat in a maze. There were so many people, aliens and humans alike, and they were all escorted by at least one other of their kind or sometimes among a gaggle of others, chattering or whispering. For all the foofaraw, the feeling of being there wasn’t so different from the surreptitious air of any backwater cantina. Once she noticed that sensation lurking beneath its gaudy exterior, the bounty hunter’s child was less uncomfortable there than she’d imagined being.

Anakin was carrying on about something that Sol wasn’t quite paying attention to when suddenly a voice called out a name that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Shyla? Is that you?” 

Her throat was frozen in the sudden torrent of memories that came over her.

“Shyla Tannor?” The voice was closer now, a woman’s voice she didn’t recognize. Anakin was lightly touching her shoulder as if to summon her back to the present, and she turned slowly to meet blue eyes set in a pale, elegant face. 

“Uh, Satine—” came Master Kenobi’s voice as he shuffled up behind her. 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” the woman said, looking almost sad as she took in Sol’s face. “I mistook you for someone else.”

“Duchess, this is my friend Sol,” Anakin said quickly.

“Sol Tannor.” Her voice was strange, distant to her own ears. “Shyla was my mother.” 

Of all the people who looked shocked at that moment, Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one she’d expected least. “Your mother?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes,” Sol nodded, realizing the confluence that was taking place. She only knew this woman by name, but it was a name that resonated through the halls of the Death Watch. And through her father’s memory enough that the few times he’d spoken of her had been unforgettable. “And you’re Dutchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.” 

“I am,” Kryze said, voice wavering a little. “I… well, I suppose it’s past time you and I met, Sol.”

There was a silence, brief but ever so poignant, where Sol knew that the Dutchess knew what had happened to her mother after she’d helped Kryze. And probably knew what had happened to her father as well, shortly thereafter. Too many feelings were fighting for the forefront of her mind for her to formulate a response. 

“I wish I’d known that a lot sooner,” Kenobi said, saving her the trouble. His expression had softened into something sad. “But your mother never let me see her face.” 

It took another moment for it to sink in that this was the Jedi who her mother had aided; he’d been so close since the day she’d arrived at the Temple more than three years ago, never knowing. She glanced between him and the Dutchess, and then remembered where she was.

“I thought Mandalore was still the leader among the neutral systems?” she asked.

“It is. But recent… events have rendered it at risk, so I have come here to defend our neutrality,” Kryze replied. By making her word selection entirely vague, she gave herself away.

“Kyr'tsad, serim?” Sol’s voice was almost toneless. But the blonde woman sighed, almost relieved that she didn’t have to dance around the truth.

“Elek,” she confirmed. “But Mandalore’s internal struggles are not grounds for it to be forced to join in this war. I believe that sovereignty is what your mother wanted, despite being part of the Death Watch herself.”

“I don’t know what my mother wanted,” Sol said. “She didn’t live long enough to tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kryze said, and it felt sincere. “I am here to defend what she died to protect. If I’d been able to take the seat of Dutchess sooner… You do look so much like her,” she added sadly, not quite smiling. 

“We mustn’t tarry too long here,” Kenobi said in a soft voice. “Your meeting with the Chancellor is in a few moments, Satine.” 

“Of course.” Kryze looked back at Sol once more before they turned to leave. “You do know that, should you ever wish it, you’d be welcomed back to us? You’re not beholden to your father’s choices. The new Mandalore doesn’t keep to those ways.”

Sol felt something strange then, a twist in her gut somewhere deep and very old. Something that almost wanted to believe it. But everything else she had ever felt had arisen in the shadow of her father, and more than one ghost had too.

“I’m dar’manda. I have no business with Manda'yaim, or Concordia, or any of the worlds of Mandalore, unless I am sent there to fight the Separatists,” she said after a moment. “I wish you the best of luck, Dutchess. Not all your opponents will fight as openly as the Kyr’tsad do.” A Mando who knew anything about the Death Watch, of course, knew that they did not fight very openly at all, particularly under the rule of Clan Vizsla. 

Satine Kryze nodded sadly. “Ni suvarir. Cuyir jahaala, Sol Tannor.” 

And then they were rushing away, Kenobi at her side like a faithful guard dog. Sol took a deep breath, locking the strange turmoil of that moment away.

“Well, that was weird,” Anakin said in his usual endearingly blunt way. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “We’d better not keep your Senator waiting.”

“Right.” He canted his head in the direction they’d been heading before, and they peeled off away from the main corridors towards the primary offices of the Senate.

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

It was all but a stroke of luck that Marshal Commander Cody was, in fact, present at the GAR headquarters on Rex’s single conscious day of R&R. The captain knew that there was every chance that his brother would be deployed, either to the field or on a base somewhere awaiting battle. But, when he’d checked the transport logs, there was the 212th happily arrived two days earlier. So he’d commed the commander, anxious to get things off his chest at last.

Cody was sitting inside his office, which was much nicer than Rex’s little cubicle, tapping away at something on his datapad. He eyed Rex’s fatigues for a moment.

“Good to see you not in your armor for once,” he said, grinning. 

“Are you ever not in yours?” Rex replied. Even at his desk, the man was wrapped in white and orange plastoid. 

“Only if I’m not deployed, not running drills that day, not on a base, or sleeping in a bunk. So, no, not really.” Cody put his datapad on the desk and kicked back in his chair. “I hope you have a good reason for comming me at almost 0100 this morning asking to talk.”

“Does me not waking up from a coma until shortly before that time constitute a good enough reason?”

Cody wiggled his hand in the air. “Eh. Not a great one.”

“What about me finally trying to get over Farrow?” Rex asked, crossing his arms as he felt his nervousness surface. Now the other clone raised his eyebrow. 

“Okay, that one I might allow,” he said. “That what you wanted to talk about, kih’vod?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d better grab a seat, then.” So, Rex pulled the only other chair in the room— a rickety plastoid thing that nobody much sat in, he had a feeling— and sat down with his elbows on his knees. His brother was still eyeing him. “You gonna tell me who?”

Rex frowned, which made Cody laugh. 

“Not yet, huh?” 

“Is it that important?” Rex asked.

“You think I don’t wanna know who makes my brother happy?” 

That made the captain soften a little, though he was still reluctant. “Maybe when I get it sorted out.” 

“Fair enough,” Cody replied, holding up a hand in his resignation. “So you’re still workin’ on it?” 

“Yeah, trying to.” Rex shifted, rubbing the back of his blonde, fuzzy head. “That’s the problem. Something keeps getting in the way.” 

“Something, like, scheduling conflicts? Sudden calls to arms?” When Rex shook his head, Cody nodded sagely. “Ah, okay. Not the something you’re talking about.”

“I always freeze up. Throat gets stuck, the whole nine yards.”

“That’s not like you, Rex.”

“What do you mean?” The captain frowned. “I haven’t dealt with this since Farrow, vod. I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing all over again.”

“I don’t mean that,” Cody said, leaning a little more forward in his chair. “I mean it sounds like you’re scared.” 

“Of course I am,” growled Rex. “Everything that happened with Farrow… and she’s kinda hard to read, on top of all that.” 

“Oh is she?” The commander was grinning, clearly pleased that by letting the pronoun slip out that his brother had narrowed down the possibilities of guessing who his new crush was significantly. Rex rolled his eyes. “You sure you’re not just having a hard time reading her, as opposed to the other way around?”

“Maybe both,” Rex admitted, rubbing his face as though he could rub out all the bantha shit that seemed to be obfuscating his internal navigation system. 

“Listen, kih’vod,” Cody said, “we clones deal with the possibility of dying, or at least being grievously injured, every day, right? You’d think that nothing would be scarier, or more motivating. But when that’s your reality, the inside stuff is what gets too scary to cope with, I reckon.”

The captain looked up at Cody’s scarred face, listening with every ounce of his doubt and simultaneous need clear in his expression. “Okay.”

“So, what’re you scared of?”

“Losing someone again,” Rex replied after a moment, a pang running through him. “Or being lost by someone, making them feel how I felt.” 

“Well, you already survived losing someone once,” Cody pointed out. “And if you’re dead, you won’t exactly be sitting around feeling guilty, will you?” 

Rex blinked, then shook his head. “Maker, Cody, you lay it out that hard to your men, too?” 

“Only when they need it,” Cody replied with another grin. “And you need it, right now. You got those jaig eyes for a reason, y’know.”

“Ouch, ori’vod. That one hurt.” But Rex was half smiling.

“Am I wrong?” 

“‘Course not.” He leaned back in the chair, sighing. “But it’s easier to be brave when my brothers depend on me.” 

“You kinda depend on yourself, too,” Cody said. 

“Now you sound like my men.”

“Good.” The commander sat back up, looking closely at Rex. “Ask her with the kriffing helmet on, if you have to.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” muttered Rex. 

“Not if it works, it’s not.” 

“I got no call to be in armor today, I’m on R&R.” 

“Kriff, you’re planning to talk to her today?” Cody asked, brows shooting towards the ceiling.

“Yeah, that was the idea.” 

“When?”

“After dinner, maybe.”

“Oh for the love of… who is it, Rex?” 

“Would you leave it?” the captain replied with a huff. “I can comm you after it happens like a shiny, if you want.” 

“You wanna know who I think it is?” The way Cody crooked a single brow at him was slightly ominous. Rex frowned. 

“Who?”

“Sol, the commando you were sparring with. The one whose knee you busted all to hell.”

If he’d ever turned bright red that quickly in his life, Rex couldn’t have remembered when. “What makes you say that?”

“Come off it, vod. You’re so obvious it’s embarrassing to watch you pretend not to be. I’ve never seen you focus that hard before. Not like that, anyway.”

“Like what?” 

Cody smirked. “Like you wanted to wrestle her all the way to your bunk.”

“Jango’s bones,” groaned Rex, looking at the ceiling in dismay. “Yeah, okay. You got me.” 

A gloved hand slapped the top of the desk. “Knew it!” the commander crowed. “The second you made eye contact with her, vod. Might as well have had a sign on your head.”

“Yeah, you and the entire 501st. Turns out her knee didn’t have any cartilage left in it, by the way.” 

“I wondered. You didn’t strike it or anything, seemed like it almost just… slipped out of place.” Cody hissed through his teeth. “That had to hurt.”

“I’m sure it hurt like hell, because they replaced both her knees after that,” Rex said. “But she didn’t make a sound, did she? Sound hard to read to you?” 

“Fine, fine. But I met her a long time before you did, so you could let me be your wingman. Maybe I’ll come down to dinner…”

“No, please, for the sake of the Maker. Let me do this myself.” His eyes pleaded with Cody to have some mercy on him, and the commander held up his hands. 

“Alright, fine. Even if I do make it down to dinner, which,” and he glanced at the chrono on the wall, “is looking unlikely anyway, I won’t interfere.”

“Thank you, brother,” Rex sighed. “Uh, when did you meet her?” 

“Shortly before she shipped off to Kamino,” Cody said. “We were watching you and the Torrent boys drill, actually, with Ponds. She had her eye on you even then.”

“It was probably the jaig eyes on my helmet, but okay,” the captain replied, but his face was warm nonetheless. “Since that was the first thing she ever asked me about.” A memory filtered up from someplace back in his subconscious. “Was that the day we heard you and Ponds booing us once we switched to bolo ball drills?” 

“Probably,” Cody chuckled. “Back before the war got so busy you’d be lucky to see all three of us at HQ at the same time.” 

“Huh.” Rex could almost remember it, shortly after the battle of Kamino. He’d seen Cody and Ponds leaning on the breezeway, harassing him and his company, and a third head that barely reached over the lip of the permacrete. Had that been Sol? 

“Smaller galaxy than you think, eh?” asked Cody. 

“Smaller army, maybe, back then.” He almost missed it, the longer R&Rs, the tighter knit between units until entire legions of clones were ready and the war bled out to new planets. Back when he’d met Farrow, and had a little more fun than he seemed to have these days because there were cracks between his strict bond to his duty where fun seemed to fit. “Well, I guess I might see you at dinner, then.” 

“We’ll see.” Cody’s grin was fond, and he leaned back in his chair again. “Now, how’d all this get started? Doesn’t have anything to do with that coma you mentioned, does it?”

Rex laughed. “Oh, you’re not gonna believe this story, Codes…”

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

Swift had abandoned all pretense of doing anything aside from impatiently waiting for the door to open as he sat on his bed. Stone was braiding his hair, Grip reading something on a datapad, and Twofer was tinkering with some parts that he hoped to assemble into a detachable laser sight for his Deece. Ever since their comms had rung that morning that Sol was released from the Jedi’s medical facility, or whatever it was that Jedi used to cure the sick, the clones had all been more than geared up to see their sergeant again for a proper talk, especially after the atmosphere at breakfast had been thick with the scent of a crush. But Swift was just eyeing the commlink on his wrist, debating pinging her repeatedly until she got back to him. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that it was General Skywalker who’d summoned her away in the first place. 

He was just about ready to start pacing when the hiss of the door opening finally graced his ears. 

“Vod’ika!” he said as soon as her beautiful brown face and white hair appeared. “What have you been doing all day?” 

“Wayii, I just got back, give me half a breath!” she laughed, coming over to hug him anyway. 

“Listen, we are long overdue for our update,” Grip pointed out. “Not just where you’ve been today, but how it was coming out of a coma, and what the hell was up at breakfast this morning!” 

“I told you, di’kut, it was fine. Master Che cleared us, and then Kix cleared us, and then we came home. I was having nightmares for three days or more, is all I know.” 

“Five and a half days, actually,” Twofer said. “And the whole Force thing—”

“—was what Anakin wanted to talk about, too,” she interjected. “But he doesn’t understand it either. Whatever was going on down there, it’s so old the Jetiise forgot about it.” 

“And you found it, of course,” Swift chided playfully. “Is that all General Skywalker wanted?”

“It was all he wanted, but I went with him to the Senate after that.”

“For what?” Grip asked, sitting upright like his curiosity radar was beeping. 

“Er,” Sol said, putting her hands behind her back. “I just wanted to talk to somebody about getting the clones civilian status, is all.” 

“Wait… really?” Swift said it, but all four of them were looking at her now in shock with the same words on all their faces. 

“Yeah. I mean, somebody had to do it,” she said. “More’n a year and a half into this war and nobody in the senate even bats an eye at that? That’s dush.”

“I think you might be the only person who thinks so,” Twofer said. 

“Apparently not,” Sol replied with a slightly smug look. 

“What?” Swift asked. “You actually—”

“I spoke with a senator. Two senators, actually. They’re both interested in drafting a bill,” she said, looking inordinately pleased with herself. 

“Vod’ika,” Stone said at last, smiling, “you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I had to. It was bothering me,” she insisted. “Anyway, that’s what I was doing all morning.”

“Wow,” Grip said, looking at her with newfound respect. Twofer’s expression was the same, almost humbled by the news. 

For a moment, Swift’s gut twisted. It was easy to believe that Sol had absolutely nothing but good intentions, of course. But he didn’t know much about the Senate, or about how the people in the rest of the galaxy would feel about clone rights. Even more than that, he knew deep down that the question of the clones’ lifespans was somewhere in Sol’s mind. And he still wasn’t sure about any of that after the Null-ARC’s transmission on Aquaris. The feeling in his belly that this loving and meaningful attempt on his little sister’s part could end up in a massive tangle was just an instinct that he couldn’t quite validate, had no way of explaining why it made him worry as much as it made him love her all the more. There was no reason to bring it up, no way to not sound ungrateful in that moment. So he filed it away, hoping the time would reveal itself to say something— or never would, because he might be wrong.

“Well, that doesn’t explain why breakfast was so interesting,” Swift said, changing the subject with an absolutely fey little smile.

“What do you mean?” Sol asked, crossing her arms.

“You think we missed all your little glances at a certain captain, vod’ika?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Please, please, please tell me you finally kissed Rex,” Twofer groaned. “That man is so smitten it actually kinda hurts to watch.” Swift almost pouted; he’d been looking forward to wheedling her, but as usual Twof was far from patient enough for that game. 

Sol frowned. “No,” she said with a huff.

“Well then what was all the kriffing glancing about?” Grip asked, throwing up a hand to emphasize his bafflement.

“I just appreciate how much Rex did to keep me alive, down there,” she replied. Something in her face was different from her usual grouchy denial, Swift thought. Like there was a shred of embarrassment there, almost. “You don’t understand, vode, it was terrible. Anakin thinks the Force made us sick, and it was worse than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“What happened, little’un?” asked Stone, looking intently at her. Face heavy with whatever tale she was about to tell, Sol walked over to the big clone’s bed and climbed into his lap where he wrapped his arms around her. Swift followed to sit by them, and the other two piled onto Grip’s bed next door to be close and listen.

“We were going through the jungle and I started to get dizzy, almost. From there it just got worse. My stomach felt terrible, my skin was crawling, I got so hot I had to take some of my armor off, which barely helped. Rex made me drink water, but I couldn’t eat. It was happening to him, too, but… he didn’t have the visions.” Sol was looking harrowed, glancing between the boys as she spoke. “Everything felt like it was going to try and kill us. I saw my father… my mother. My past, but it was changed. I was delirious, kept seeing all these figures I don’t think were really there. Rex was telling me stories, talking to me to try and keep me conscious.”

“I guess by the time he passed out, too, it didn’t work anymore,” said Twofer, but what could have sounded like a jab ended up sounding like just stress as he rubbed his forehead.

“It worked long enough to keep me alive, is what Master Che said. If I’d been alone, I wouldn't have made it.” At that, Stone buried his nose in her clean white hair and shut his eyes, as though his anxious sadness from awaiting her recovery was back. Swift put his hand on his brother’s knee gently. He felt the pang of it, too, along with a swell of relief.

“What about the bacta tank, Sol’ika? Neither of you seemed to be doing better inside it,” Grip asked, scooting to the edge of his bunk with his hands on his knees. 

“It… I don’t know,” she murmured. “It hurt. Everything hurt, just like it did at the temple, but worse. The bacta couldn’t help whatever was wrong with us.”

“It hurt Rex, too?” asked Swift. 

“Yes. I felt it…” She put her hand on her face to rub one of her temples. “I tried to pull it away from him as much as I could, like a... siphon, I think. I can’t explain it, I just knew it was what I had to do. He couldn’t fight that power like I could.”

“Sounds like you both kept each other alive,” Grip pointed out softly. “In which case, I’m glad he was with you.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t any of you, vode,” Sol said, her voice falling very quiet. She reached out towards Grip and Twofer, both of whom slipped off the bed they were on to come and take one each of her hands. She looked over at Swift, and a tear was tumbling out of her eye and sliding down her cheek. He reached over to gently wipe it away.

“Five and a half days, vod’ika,” he reminded her. “Could you please never do that to us again?” 

A teary smile broke over her face. “I’ll do my best.” 

The others were piling onto Stone’s bed now, far too many people to try and sit on the narrow GAR bunk. The big clone moved to put his back against the wall, dragging Sol along with him, to make a little more room. They all leaned on each other, every clone touching their tiny, fierce little sister that they’d come so close to losing in one way or another.

“What happened before that?” Sol asked, brow knitting. “Inside the ruins?” 

“You don’t remember?” Twofer frowned, and she shook her head. 

“We were inside the main facility where the Seps were testing the interdiction fields,” Swift told her. “You ran over to shut down the main reactor. Then that big red flash happened— no bang, no sound at all. Just the flash, and then when we looked up, you and Rex were gone.” 

“That makes no sense at all,” Sol muttered. “You can’t just… travel a hundred klicks in a blink like that.” 

“Theoretically, you might,” Grip chimed in. “But I have no idea how you’d make the equipment to do it. The engineers there, they seemed as baffled as the rest of us were when it happened. So I’m guessing it wasn’t their goal to do something like that.” 

“Maybe I didn’t shut the reactor down properly,” she wondered. 

“When I say nobody can figure it out, I mean even the guy we brought back to hold as a prisoner hasn’t been able to sort it. And he wanted to, I think.”

“Wayii,” groaned Sol. “I know what Anakin probably thinks.” 

“The Force had something to do with it?” Twofer posited with a high brow. Sol nodded.

“You think he’s right?” Swift asked.

“I really don’t know. I don’t know the Force like they do.”

“We don’t even know the Force like you do,” Grip said, clearly unhappy about it. “Or else we might be any use.”

“Don’t worry about it, vod. Either way, me and Rex are fine, and from what you’re telling me the Seps aren’t testing interdiction fields anymore.”

“Sure aren’t,” Twofer grinned. “Once the equipment was shut down, I got to make sure it never got booted back up again.” 

“On whose orders?” Sol asked, curious.

“General Windu’s,” he replied. “He decided the Republic didn’t need to go fiddling with that stuff any more than the Seps did, I reckon.” 

“Jate,” she murmured, and closed her eyes. For a moment, they simply sat there in the profound safety and comfort of each other’s company. 

“So, about kissing Rex,” Swift began at length, and Sol turned to side-eye him. “I’m just saying, you two are all trauma-bonded now…”

“Gar mirsch solus, vod,” she muttered. “Or else you’d have moved on by now.”

“Oh no, I’ll be pushing you about this until you figure it out,” he assured her impishly.

“Why?” she groaned, rolling her eyes. 

“Because you like him, little’un,” Stone interjected, smiling softly.

“What makes you think—”

“You haven’t gotten that close to anybody else,” Grip pointed out. “And the squad and mentor figures don’t count, that’s not the kinda close I mean. It’s obvious, Sol’ika. To everyone but you two, I guess.”

“I’m sure it’s scary,” Swift said, rubbing her arm. “But you know, I bet it’ll be worth it.” 

Twofer suddenly leaned closer and took Sol’s hand that he’d been holding in both of his, making pleading eyes at her. “Vod’ika, please. For the love of your brothers, kiss that man. It’s truly hard to watch just how much he likes you. It’s disgusting,” he said. 

“You really think he does?” The earnestness of Sol’s question was amazingly endearing.

“Sol,” Grip said, brow furrowing. “I’m not even interested in that sort of thing and I can tell.”

“I’ve never done this before!” she protested, pouting. “I’ve only just watched it happen. And not even that, really, just heard about it after.”

“Like, never?”  Swift almost didn’t believe it, even considering what he knew about her past. “I mean I know we talked about virginity but are you saying you’ve never even been kissed?” 

“No,” she said. “Never. And he…” She glanced away, and Swift knew he was seeing her insecurity for the first time since he’d met her. “I don’t know if he… He doesn’t say anything about liking me.” 

“Well, Rex is a little scared, too,” Twofer murmured. Sol’s face softened as she looked at him. “He lost someone before. Maybe you could help him out by starting the conversation.” But her brow furrowed, like she wasn’t sure how to plan for such a thing.

“We talked about this at least once,” Swift said pointedly. “What to say is easy. When to say it is… whenever you can get him alone, I guess, since I’m sure you won’t do it any other time.” 

“I don’t know…”

“Little’un,” Stone said, his voice gentle. “Take your time. But when you’re the most scared, you’ll know that’s the time to speak, I bet.” 

“For someone who hasn’t done this before, that was pretty wise, vod,” Twofer said, grinning at the big clone. Stone matched his grin.

“It’s just something I noticed.”

“I bet you did.” Swift couldn’t help but appreciate Stone’s words, so rare and yet always so poignant. 

“Osi’kyr,” Sol growled. “Okay, okay. I’ll… I dunno. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Thank you, merciful sister,” Twofer said with dramatic levels of gratitude, bowing his head until he could bump his forehead onto her hand. The others just grinned.

“Okay,” Swift said, climbing off Stone’s bed. “Now that’s settled, anybody wanna play bolo-ball before dinner?” 

“Yeah, I owe you a shebs-whooping,” Grip said, face full of grin as he followed on Swift’s heels. “And I’m already in my limmie shorts, too.”

“Wait for me to change!” Sol laughed as she leapt up and bounded towards the door, her grumpy resistance to what Swift believed was her inevitable fate abandoned for a while.

Chapter Text

Coruscant, Galactic City, Republic Center for Military Operations

Cronos Squad was still sweaty from their afternoon scrimmage when they made their way into the mess for dinner which was even less crowded than usual. Apparently they’d have more than enough to do once her R&R was over tomorrow, Sol thought. But she took her tray of what was nearly real food with gratitude, and sat with her vode to eat it. 

Of course, when Rex entered the mess with Fives, Echo, and Kix, all in their own athletic clothes, immediately at least three knees prodded her under the long table. She looked at each of their impish grins in turn and scooted closer to Stone, who wasn’t prodding her. He just chuckled.

“Say, Captain!” called Twofer when the boys in blue emerged from the line. “Come have a sit!” 

“I think you and your squad still owe me a game of bolo, actually,” Rex replied with an exceedingly cheerful grin. Kix slid in next to Sol with his usual friendliness. 

“So, you haven’t had any complications from your illness or anything yet, have you love?” he asked. 

“Not yet,” she replied.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yeah, you and the Captain here both seem fit as Jawa fiddles,” Fives said, and his grin was just as mischievous as ever. Rex took his seat directly across from Sol with the ARC troopers piling in beside him, and smiled at her. 

“How was your expedition to the Senate?” he asked. Sol could feel the floaty, buoyant sensations that always came up around him escalating in her belly, hard on the heels of the night before.

“Better than I expected. Two senators are already working on a bill for clone rights,” she said, suddenly feeling proud of herself. It turned out that Padme was the senator Anakin had taken her to, who had immediately called on another senator named Organa to help them start planning.

“Oh, wow,” Rex replied, blinking. “That’s… amazing?”

“Isn’t it?” Swift said. “That’s our Sarge.” 

“You really went to talk to them about that? I thought Rex was making it up,” Kix said, looking at her like he hadn’t quite believed it, and like it meant an awful lot to him. Sol nodded. 

“Yeah. I think we might hear about the bill being introduced pretty soon, actually.” 

Kix’s crooked smile, usually reserved for playing coy or being smooth, was touched with genuine appreciation now. “Thank you, love. That’s more than any clone ever expected to hear, I think.” 

“Honestly, yes,” Echo agreed. “Thank you, Sol. Even if it doesn’t work out for some reason, we’ll never forget that.”

Fives grinned. “If it does, I dunno what we’ll do with all those rights.” 

“Same thing you do now, ‘till this war ends,” Rex said. “I mean, it can’t change our service that much, can it?” 

“We still have to talk more about that,” Sol said. “I’m not sure they want to grant real leave instead of just R&R, what with the way the war’s going. Senator Organa said that might be a point of resistance from some of the other systems, especially ones like Ryloth who need so much of our help.” 

“I dunno how many clones would know what to do with leave anyway, Sol'ika,” Swift said. “Waiting around between battles is hard, at least for me. I think most of us would settle for a decent retirement, assuming we make it that far.” 

“That was something I insisted on,” she said, nodding once and very surely.

“Insisted?” Fives was laughing and shaking his head. “Sarge, you’re a wonder. What else did you insist on?” 

“Just everything any citizen deserves, plus a few considerations for your specific issues as clones. Like access to education or vocational training once you retire, or looking into your genetic code to alter any problems that come up. Which I think is the Republic’s responsibility.” 

The looks she got from her squad were brief, but she felt them all. At first, she thought maybe they were worried about her breaching top-level confidentiality. But then she realized they might just be surprised that she mentioned it in the first place. Swift, especially, seemed concerned.

“That’s a tall order, but I can’t say I take issue with any of it,” Kix said. “And, if you’re willing to fight for us, we’re willing to help however we can.” 

“Vor'e , but I think it’ll be the senators arguing it out, mostly,” Sol said. “If they realize they need a clone’s input, which I told them they should ask for anyway, I’ll let you know.” 

“Oh, I’ve got loads of input,” Fives growled. “Sure plenty of us do.” 

“Yeah, just keep a sock in it until we know it’ll do us all some good, vod,” Rex said pointedly. “I don’t want you getting in trouble over something you say.” 

Fives just waved his hand at his captain, as though dismissing his concerns for him. “I hear ya, sir, I hear ya.” 

“In the meantime,” Twofer said, “at least we’re back to the field tomorrow. I was growing white hairs waiting on you two to get out of stasis.” 

“From the time, or the stress?” Fives laughed. 

“Both!” 

The men fell to their usual brand of playful banter, threats of bolo-ball victory, and whatever else. But Sol was done eating, so she just moved her fork around idly on her tray and smiled up at Rex, who was quietly gazing back at her.

“Hey Sarge, you wanna go back out for bolo? These boltheads want to scrimmage,” Swift asked her, glancing between Fives, Echo, and Kix. 

“Actually, I was thinking of heading up to the rec rooms,” she replied, even though she hadn’t been thinking of that at all. “I haven’t drilled hand-to-hand since before we left for Moraga, and I’d rather do it when it’s not so crowded.”

“You could drill hand-to-hand in your sleep,” Grip said, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“It’s just nice to go back to basics, sometimes.” 

“Fair. Plus, practice is good. Once the 212th gets back, I know they want you and Rex to rematch,” Fives grinned. 

“They’ve been back, vod,” said Echo, playfully nudging Fives with his elbow.

“When they get a minute, then.”

“Does having robot knees give you an unfair advantage, though?” Twofer asked, grinning.

“Nah,” Rex replied for her, waving the idea off. “I’m sure we can go again. Right, Sol?” 

“Oh, absolutely.” Her smile was more of a smirk, now. “I still have to kick your shebs, after all.”

The other clones found that highly amusing, cooing and snickering. “You sure do get feisty sometimes, Sarge,” Swift said. “Especially when it comes to our friend Rex, here.” 

She remained surprisingly cool, even though she wanted to knee him under the table. “Is it feisty to say something true, vod?” They all ooooh ed with excitement, except Rex, who was smirking at her in an almost feral way that made her heart start to stutter.

“You forget that last time, I learned your technique,” he said. Sol raised an eyebrow.

“And you assume I have just one, alor'ad.” The whoops of the men just seemed to fuel the energy that was suddenly arcing between them.

“I see I’ll just have to win, instead of talking about it,” Rex purred.

“I’m sure you’ll try your best,” she cooed back. 

“I think they should just spar right now, the hell with the 212th,” Twofer said, leaning back in his seat with an eyebrow sky high.

“No, no, I got a lot of bets riding on this man,” Fives said, clapping Rex’s shoulder. 

“What do you even have to bet, vod?” Kix asked.

“One word: laundry.” 

Swift laughed. “Alright, Sarge, you go do your thing. I think we’ll test these blue boys out and see if we owe them a real game later,” he said, rising from his seat. The rest of the table followed suit, trays clacking. 

“You coming with us, Rex?” Echo asked.

“Nah, I’m gonna wind down,” he replied, glancing over to Sol and then to the rest of her squad. “Can’t give away all our skills before a real match, y’know.” 

“Sure, sure,” the ARC trooper hummed, nodding innocently. As they were meandering in a gaggle towards the exit, a man in white and orange armor entered the mess. 

“Cody!” Sol exclaimed, grinning and waving as she scuttled over to clap hands with him. 

“Oh, it’s little Sol!” the Marshal Commander said with a broad smile. “Nice to see you around, after hearing what happened after my unit left Moraga.”

“Thanks for coming to pick us up, jerk,” she retorted, and he mussed her hair fondly.

“You know I would’ve if General Koon didn’t beat me to it. It’s a good thing our good Captain Rex here put out an SOS.” He wagged his brows, gaze behind her as Rex and the others approached. 

“Surprised they picked it up from orbit,” Rex said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Say, when are you two gonna rematch?” Cody asked, wry grin on his face. “I got some bets riding on shorty here.” He nudged Sol with his elbow, and she pushed his arm away with a laugh.

“I’m sure we’ll let you know when we figure it out, vod,” Rex replied a little archly. Sol crossed her arms, unable to stop her smirk from returning.

“Guess you’d better practice, huh, Rex old boy?” Cody seemed cheerful, prodding his brother. “Wouldn’t wanna get too rusty before round two.”

“Yeah, don’t slack on me, alor’ad,” Sol added. “I’d hate to beat you at less than your best.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of letting you win, verd’ika,” Rex said in an ominous purr. It was like he couldn’t resist the bait; to be fair, Sol could never seem to resist dangling it, either. 

“Maybe I should teach you a thing or two about it, before your head gets any bigger.” 

“Didn’t know you were a master, little Sol,” Cody chimed in, stroking his chin as he watched the two of them. She looked back at him, all stony amusement.

“Clan Tannor were the masters of Mandalorian hand-to-hand combat for three thousand years, Commander,” she said coolly. “The Echani form you’re all trained in was created by my ancestors, then became what it is known as today because of the Echani people. K’thri was also created by them, and bastardized into showmanship. I was taught forms from all over the galaxy as a child, including Teräs Käsi, Tae-Jitsu, Tal-Gun, and Gravik-nez. The Jetiise taught me the way of the Broken Gate. But I suppose Ponds doesn't brag much about how I laid him out every time we sparred before I ever went to Kamino.”

“Rex, I’m starting to think you bit off more than you could chew,” Cody said, laughing and shaking his head. 

“It’s not just about the form,” Rex said, eyeing her. “It’s about the fighters. About reading your opponent, their movements. It’s a language of combat just like anything more complicated than a blaster.”

“Exactly,” Sol replied, a little surprised— and more than a little impressed— that the captain understood that so clearly. It was something she’d known from birth, it seemed, but she’d not heard it phrased quite that way since before her father died. And he had been quoting her mother, of course.

“Now I’m really looking forward to this round,” said Cody with a smirk. “Still, you two were comatose for a long time. Better go wake up your muscles, hm? No time like the present.” He nudged Sol again, and she turned to see him holding up his hand to her. “Glad you’re back with us, Sarge,” he added. She clasped his hand, and they tapped each other’s backs. 

“Thanks, Cody,” she smiled. 

“You too, Rex,” he said, and did the same soldier’s greeting with his brother. “Now, you two get outta here, I’m hungry!” 

“Enjoy your ori’skraan, then!” Sol called as Cody carried on down towards the line. He just waved her off. She turned back to Rex. “You wanna go run some drills, alor’ad?” 

The captain grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Just as they were striding out of the mess a little behind their more zealous friends, the comm on Sol’s wrist started to ring loudly. It was a fast pattern, accompanied by a yellow light. They both stared down at it, then looked back at each other.

“Osik,” Sol growled. 

“Seriously?” came Twofer’s holler from way out ahead, just barely stepping into the field of plasturf. “ Now? ”

“Simmer down, vod, it’s reconnaissance,” she called back, but she knew the scowl on her face was probably visible from fifty paces. “Won’t be that long.”

“Don’t they have anybody else?”

“Obviously not! Now go get suited up!” 

“So much for R&R,” Rex said, suddenly quite dispirited. Sol turned to him after tapping an acknowledgement into her comm. 

“Keep practicing,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sure we’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, but I might not be here by then.” 

“Hey, you never know. We could end up stuck on a long hyperspace jump together sooner than you think.”

“Oh, so we can practice sparring or dancing, huh?” He smiled, calling back to their conversation at 79’s which felt so long ago, now. Sol’s smile was sudden and a little bashful. 

“Whichever one you like, alor’ad.”

Rex’s hand moved to take the one that she’d just laid on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Go, verd’ika. I’ll see you soon.” 

“K’oyacyi,” she replied, eyes and hand lingering for just a moment before she turned and took off at pace towards the barracks.

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Endurance, in orbit above Vanqor, 21BBY

“I’d really rather do it myself,” Sol was saying as she sat on the edge of a cot inside the medical center of the Endurance. 

“How can you be more nervous about getting an injection from someone else than about giving it to yourself?” Grip asked, standing beside her holding a handheld injector. The BD unit that was perched on his shoulder chirped. 

“Just give me the thing, vod,” she growled in reply, holding out an expectant hand. “It’s what I’m used to. Plus, there’s starting to be scars on my thighs, and I’m the only person who knows where they are.”

“That’s why I’d give it to you on your arm or something,” Grip said. “To disperse the injection sites, so you wouldn’t build the scar tissue so quickly.” 

“I can do my own arm as well, I’m sure.” He’d hit a point of stubbornness that only Swift had apparently been privy to before, he realized. When his droid beeped again, he shook his head and handed the injector over. 

“That’s just Sarge, Beedee Nine. She’ll be alright, but I’m sure she appreciates your concern,” he told it. By then she was handing the emptied injector back to him, frown still stone on her face. 

“Thank you, Beedee,” she said archly. 

“Didn’t I tell you he’d be great?” Grip said, beaming. “You did great today, little guy.” 

“Yeah, he didn’t even get stepped on.” Twofer’s voice came around the curtain before he did. 

“And we sliced through that extremely convoluted security mainframe in record time,” his brother pointed out, almost too pleased with the day’s progress to be phased by Twofer’s lingering antagonism towards the little droid. “Think it would’ve taken me a couple of hours at least, by myself.” 

“It did work out well,” Sol said, glancing at the droid. “I’m sure the team will become quite used to operating with Beedee in the mix.” Now she was looking back at Twofer, one brow raised. Grip appreciated her willingness to stand up for his new little friend’s progress, at least. 

“I’m sure,” Twofer said in a dry tone, side-eyeing BD-9. “Anyway, I came to tell you that Lightning Squad’s here, Sol.” 

Sol’s solemn face lit up, and she grinned. “Ponds with them?”

“He is.” 

“Oh good. I still have to kick his shebs fair and square.” 

“Long as you don’t have anything else that’s hurting, you’re free to go,” Grip told her. 

“General Windu’s here too, so just keep him out of the wrestling arena.” Twofer also grinned— he’d started to enjoy how much certain clones really wanted to compete with Sol at the things she was best at. Especially the ones who’d never actually witnessed her take down all six-and-a-half feet of Stone, repeatedly. 

She slid off the cot with a sudden burst of energy. “I’ll go find him. Maybe we can wrestle before the Resolute comes to pick us up,” she said. “Where’d you see them?” 

“Hangar bay four.” By the time the words were out of his mouth, she’d scuttled off. He chuckled, taking a seat on the cot. 

“How’re you feeling, vod?” Grip asked, looking up from his datapad. 

“Doesn’t anybody ever ask the medic how he’s feeling?” Twofer replied with the kind of spurious grin that gave him away immediately. 

“That bad, huh?” Grip crossed his arm. “You know we can tell, right?”

Twofer’s face fell cloudy. “Usually you know better than to bring it up.”

“You could tell us what’s on your mind once in a while.” 

The blunt-force resistance that Twofer and Sol had in common didn’t swing from his brother’s look, and it caught Grip by surprise.

“Six months since she died, today,” Twofer said softly, eyes falling to the ground. 

“Oh.” The medic blinked, then let his arms fall. “I’m sorry, vod.”

“I should be letting this go, shouldn’t I?”

“I mean, it takes time, right?”

“I forget you’re just a regular medic and not a psychologist,” Twofer said with another wry grin.

“Clones don’t have psychologists,” Grip pointed out, frowning. 

“I know. I’m just being an ass.”

“Well, maybe you just need to find a way to let her go… symbolically. Or something.” For all he was used to knowing things and having answers, or at least being able to find them, Grip was at a bit of a loss. His heart ached for his brother, though. 

“What, like have a funeral?” Twofer’s brow furrowed.

“Sure, I mean why not? They never did have one for her anyway, did they?” 

“No. They didn’t.” The weapons specialist looked away again, eyes distant. “I wonder if it’ll do any good.” 

“Can’t hurt,” Grip offered with a shrug. “Maybe you should talk to someone who knows more about loss than me, though.” 

“Maybe.” Twofer’s face was pensive as he rose from the cot. But he looked at his brother, and Grip thought that maybe some of the weight that had been behind his eyes had started to fall away. Twofer clapped his shoulder less aggressively than usual. “Thanks, vod.”

Grip just nodded, and let the other clone walk away at a pace that meant that he wasn’t sure where he was going just yet, stroking his slightly stubbly chin with his fingers. BD-9 chirped again, obviously curious.

“Your guess is as good as mine, buddy,” he told it with a shrug.

----- 

“Ponds!” When he heard his name, the bald commando in yellow and white turned and grinned broadly at Sol. 

“Ah, look who it is! The cheater!” he replied, and she just shook her head.

“Now, Ponds. I know you’re upset that General Windu hurried your defeat, but that was just incidental and I’m more than happy to beat you all the way this time.” She put her hands on her armored hips, smug. 

“Awfully cocky, aren’tcha?”

“Prove me wrong.” 

“How long you here for, then?” 

Sol shrugged. “Supposedly for twenty-four standard hours. Yularen’s picking us up when he comes to get Anakin, unless something changes.” 

“Fair enough,” Ponds said. “Well, I still have to debrief with General Windu and get some of our gear cleaned up and put away. There’s a group of cadets coming for a tour at 0600, though.”

“Really?” Sol raised one white brow. “I didn’t know clones got field trips.” 

“It was the Jedis’ suggestion,” he told her. “They think it’s good to get us off Kamino to see the galaxy a little before we’re deployed. I’d say they’re right, actually. There’s training involved too, ‘course, but it’s an eye-opener.”

“Are you the tour guide?” 

“Kriff no,” Ponds snorted. “Just means that I have to be on my best behavior tomorrow, or Kilian’ll give me shit.”

“Ah, I see.” 

“Wish I could get some rest in before they get here,” he added in a grumble.

“Well, maybe we can wrestle after the tour’s over,” Sol suggested. “You know, once you’ve had your beauty sleep.” Ponds grinned and reached out to clap his hand on her shoulder.

“Enjoy that confidence while you still got it, pipsqueak.”

“Go scrub your Deece,” she suggested playfully, knocking her hip into him before she turned towards the exit. He laughed and waved her off, full of easy fondness. 

-----

When the blare of the ship’s alarm went off, every clone who had been napping in the unit of bunks sat bolt upright at once, and Sol right along with them. 

“What’s that?” asked someone as they all scrambled to pull on their helmets and grab their gear. 

“General Windu, this is Cronos. What’s the nature of the alert, sir?” Sol asked into her comm. When all she got in reply was fuzz, she glanced up at Swift with plain worry on her face. “General Skywalker! Ponds, come in!” 

“This is Skywalker. There’s been an explosion,” came Anakin’s voice at last. “No other threat identified as yet, but you’d better report to the war room now.”

“Yessir,” she replied, sighing and refastening her bun so she could pull her bucket over her head. “You heard him, boys. Let’s go!” Even the troopers who weren’t her squad nodded and threw salutes at her, filing out behind Cronos as they marched from the barracks up to the starboard bridge. 

When the two Jedi generals arrived with the rest of the ship’s sergeants and commanders, Mace Windu looked directly at Sol with all the fierce focus of a commanding officer and a Jedi Master.

“I was the target,” he told her quickly. “It was someone on board. We’re about to order a sweep, but I want you and your men to head down to my quarters now. Investigate the damage as much as you can, and keep quiet. Watch to see if the killer returns. Capture them if they do.”

Sol nodded. “Yes, General.”

“Go.” With their dismissal from the grave-faced Jedi, five grey and red suits of armor peeled away from the main group to take off towards the officer’s suites. 

“So it wasn’t the Seps?” asked Swift on their private channel as they went. 

“Don’t think they know yet,” Sol replied. “It’d have to be a plant. Someone who’s been here waiting for their chance.”

None of them spoke it, but the fear of a traitor flickered through all their minds.

“Why d’you reckon Windu was the only target?” Grip wondered. “Can’t think of a reason to go after just one general when there’s two on board, plus an admiral and a tidy batch of troops including commandos.” 

“Yeah, this makes no sense for a military target,” Twofer agreed. They arrived at the charred remains of Windu’s door, stopping to look at the pattern of debris and carbon scoring on the durasteel walls. 

“Grip and Beedee, stay here with me,” Sol began. “We’ll search the rubble. You three, fan out in the halls nearby and keep watch for anyone coming this way, even just a casual patrol. We’ll be listening. No casualties if at all possible. Suvarir?” As they nodded and turned in different directions to set up their perimeter, Sol watched Grip stand at the threshold of the once-unassuming bedroom while the droid scampered inside and started scanning everything it could. 

“Standard thermal detonator placed just inside the door,” Grip said. “Unless the killer was lurking nearby waiting to flip the switch, I’m not sure how they timed it.”

“Could’ve been a tripwire,” Twofer suggested on the comm from his post down the hall. “That’d be easy to lay and then kriff off, make sure you’re not implicated.” 

“True,” Grip murmured. “Everything’s too carbonized for me to be sure what the pieces are.” 

“Both the generals were supposed to be on respite,” Swift’s voice reminded them. “No way to know when they’d be coming in or out of their rooms. So a tripwire makes the most sense.” 

Sol was trying to think, frustrated at the lack of apparent logic. “Has anybody boarded but Lightning Squad and the clone cadets since we got here?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Grip said.

“That makes no sense,” she muttered, frowning. “Unless…”

“It seems like it was personal,” Stone said softly, his words an echo of the thought she hadn’t wanted to believe. 

“But who’d want to kill General Windu among nobody but a few civilian officers and a bunch of clones?” Swift asked. None of them liked those implications, so the channel was quiet for a few moments. 

“A fool, whoever it was,” Sol murmured. She chuckled humorlessly. “I tried to kill Mace Windu once. Granted, I was only seventeen at the time, but I still wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Really, Sarge?” Twofer asked. “You’re just gonna drop that one on us without any explanation?” 

“Maybe he’ll tell you the story sometime,” she said. Then, BD-9 chirped. 

“Nothing else of use,” Grip sighed. “It was clean, no clues other than the nature of the ordnance. And apparently it failed, seeing as the General ordered us down here himself.” 

Without warning, their dead-end line of questioning was punctuated by a massive tremor that rattled through the ship from its heart. Sol caught herself on the wall, then cast about wildly as though awaiting some other clue. But all that came was another series of much smaller tremors, and the blaring alarm’s measured drone.

“Osik. Cronos! Back to me!” she ordered over the headset. “That’s the reactor core gone.”

“You sure?” asked Grip as the others sprinted down the halls towards them. 

“Believe me, I know that feeling anywhere,” she said, thinking of the dozens of times her father’s ships had malfunctioned and popped a gasket mid-trip. She was amazingly calm; such crisis always rendered her so. But on a cruiser of this size, the scramble to clear the ship would be a lot slower than it was for a small freighter or a shuttle. Even as it continued to rumble with its own collapse, there was no sense of drifting yet.

“You think it was the killer?” asked Twofer.

“Why would someone target the General specifically and then the whole ship?” Swift said.

“Because their first attempt failed, and this was all they had left to try,” Sol said gravely. She’d seen and felt enough desperation in her life to recognize that, at least. “Let’s head to the bridge.” 

They moved through the halls at record speed, dodging and weaving around other troopers and officers, even passing the cluster of startled clone cadets before they arrived at their destination. The bridge was nearly empty, with only Admiral Kilian, a handful of troopers, and a familiar set of yellow and white armor. 

“Ponds!” called Sol, running over to the commander. “Ponds, what’s going on?”

“You’re evacuating, now,” he said in the sternest voice she’d ever heard from him. “Get to the hangar bay and get on the first shuttle you lay eyes on.”

“But we can stay with you until—”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Ponds!”

“I’m staying to help the Admiral. We have to take this thing down to Vanqor and pray we’re not landing half a ship by the time we get there. By Jango’s bones, you lot had better not be here when we do!” He sounded angry, but she knew what he really felt. Her heart froze with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do, no argument she could make to get him to change his mind. This was his duty, the most sacred calling of any clone, or any true warrior.

So, Sol held out her hand. Seeing it, he clasped it firmly.

“K'oyacyi, Commander,” she said. “I still have to beat you at arm wrestling.” She could almost hear the laugh that he suppressed from beneath his helmet. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“Go, little sister,” he told her. When he made no promise to stay alive as she’d told him to, her chest tightened. He pulled her suddenly but gently by the neck to touch the foreheads of their helmets together.

Then he let go. Another huge shudder shook the ship.

“Go!” he repeated, louder this time. And Cronos Squad took off for the hangar bay, Sol blinking tears from her eyes under the mercy of her helmet. 

Chapter Text

Republic Nu-class Attack Shuttle Titan, en route to Kamino 21BBY

Sol was sitting in the pilot’s seat of the shuttle that Cronos Squad had been gifted with for their last mission. Only a few fresh carbon marks sullied its exterior hull, a testament to their initial success. As light streaked endlessly by the viewport, her golden eyes lingered on the panel that was ticking down the seconds before they dropped out of hyperspace. 

Behind her, the door to the cockpit opened suddenly. She shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Swift who stuck his head in to peer at her. 

“We landing soon, Sarge?” he asked cheerfully. 

“Why, you wanna show off your new favorite toy to the other troopers?” she teased him. 

“Not before I paint her up, make sure people know she’s ours.” He grinned as he entered fully to perch behind her in the copilot’s chair. He’d gotten mightily attached to the shuttle in the week they’d had it. 

“It’s not officially ours yet, y’know.”

“I know, but I’m thinking forward, not backward,” he replied with a grin. “Which planet is the 501st on again?”

“Pare sol,” she bid him as the control panel began to blink. Taking the two levers that propelled the twin ion engines, she gently let the ship slip out of the tunnels of spacetime. The black void the landed in was sparse with stars, and before them in its vastness hung a familiar blue planet.

“Uh, they’re on Kamino?” Swift asked, brow knit in confusion. 

“No,” Sol said calmly. “We’re taking a detour.”

“On whose orders?” 

“Mine.” 

She could feel Swift’s critical glance even from the back of her head. “Sol’ika, what are you doing?” 

“It’s just a quick stop, vod.” She looked back at him, expression opaque. “We won’t be here long.” The planet came up with surprising quickness. Swift gripped the back of her seat as they picked up speed towards the bright baubles of Tipoca City, like massive bubbles on the surface of the sea. 

“Aren’t you flying a bit fast?” he asked, grimacing a little as he stared out of the viewport.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still apparently nonplussed. In fact, he was pretty sure she was flying just shy of the speed that would bring the atmosphere in too hot around them. The fastest speed she could take without damaging the ship. 

“Where’d you learn to fly?” came another voice. Grip was in the open doorway now, hanging onto its frame and looking a little nervous even though the shuttle barely shook. 

“My father.” 

“Where’d he learn to fly?”

“Ne'johaa and buckle in, if you’re spacesick.” Now the landing platforms were in view and she began to lower the Titan over one, speed dropping steadily all the way. Half a second after they heard the hiss of the brakes, the whole ship thudded onto its legs. 

“Maker,” grumbled Swift. “Remind me not to sit up front when you’re flying ever again.” 

“Aren’t we gonna be late to rendezvous?” Grip asked. “Isn’t Rex gonna wonder where we are?” 

Swift chuckled, and Sol rolled her eyes. He’d thrown out Rex’s name just to prod her, of course. “I’m gonna buzz him right now, vod,” she replied before reaching over to the ship’s communicator and tapping a few buttons. Swift glanced over at Grip and wagged his brows, ducking low behind the pilot’s seat to peek around at the controls. Grip crouched beside him, and both of them enjoyed the idea that they were sneakily observing their sergeant’s budding romance— of course, it wasn’t truly sneaky. She would have put them right out of the cockpit if she really cared. 

Rex’s form appeared in a ghostly blue over the holoprojector. 

“Hey, verd’ika,” he said with a bright smile. “How’s your mission going?” 

“It went well all things considered,” she replied. “Nothing a little bacta couldn’t fix up. We’re running late to meet you, though.” 

“Well, for now I suppose I forgive you,” Rex replied, all cheek. “There’s nothing dire going on here yet.”

“Good to know, since I’m sure you couldn’t possibly handle it all by yourself if something were to happen.” She smirked, unable to resist the bait. Swift looked over at Grip, and they both tried to stifle their snickers. Sol, in her benevolence, ignored them. 

“The Titan must’ve worked out well, or you wouldn’t be so feisty!”

She grinned. “It did. I’ll have to thank General Skywalker for suggesting it to High Command.” 

“You really think it was his idea?” Now he looked sly, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, wasn’t it?” she asked, and Swift knew from her exaggerated tone that she was feigning ignorance. Of course it was Rex’s idea, he thought. The man was completely smitten. “I wonder whose, then.” 

“I hope you’re in a better mood when you get here,” he said with a pout.

“Maybe I will be.” But the smile on her face lost all its edge and collapsed back into one of pure adoration.

“Alright. There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.” His tone suddenly fell, and Sol frowned. Suddenly the two clones behind her were listening with pricked ears, too.

“What is it?”

“We’ve just received news about Commander Ponds.” At this Swift saw her stiffen, and he and Grip exchanged troubled glances. “He was lost on Vanqor. I thought you’d want to know.” 

She swallowed the sadness that bloomed in her throat, but it stuck to her voice when she spoke again. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“I’m sorry, Sol. I know you were close.” It was that same sweet condolence that carried the weight of understanding that Rex always had. She nodded, looking down at her boots, and then looked back up at the holoemitter. Her composure was a familiar mask to her brothers. Swift saw Rex’s expression on the holo and thought that maybe the good captain was starting to pick up on her stoic habits, too.

“I’ll see you soon, alor’ad.” She put her hand on the connection button.

“Be safe,” Rex said.

“K'oyacyi,” she replied. And then his sad, kind eyes vanished along with the rest of him. Sol sat utterly still for a moment, but Swift knew waves of grief were battering her like the Kaminoan waves below. He stood up and placed his hand gently on her armored shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, vod’ika.” Both he and Grip let her be quiet instead of responding. They both knew when she rose to her feet that the time to mourn was later. But she cast them both gratified looks before nodding to urge them out of the cockpit so she could follow.

“You can stay with the ship if you like, vode,” she said to all four of them when she descended to the hangar. “We’re not going to be here for long.”

“Actually, might be kinda fun to take a look at our old home again,” Twofer mused, grinning. “My arm’s not even hurting anymore.” Sol said nothing, but there was something in her nod that said that she’d be grateful for the company of her team. 

So they marched down the walkway and into the foyer of the Clone Military Education Complex for the first time in nine months that felt like several lifetimes. The clone who greeted them stood at attention.

“I don’t believe we were expecting you, commandos,” he said, though he didn’t seem perturbed. “Who is it you’re here to see?” 

“I’m here to speak to Nala Se,” Sol replied, tucking her helmet under her arm. “It’s personal business. We won't’ be long.”

“Should I let her know you’re coming, Sergeant?”

“Sure. I assume she’s in the Primary Medical Center?” 

“There, or her office which is just next door to the Research Center.” 

“Vor’e, trooper.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

As they made their way through the halls, Swift bottled up his urge to ask Sol a million questions. Part of him hated being out of the loop, and wondered at this sudden surge of opacity. They seemed to come and go with Sol, though sometimes he knew what they covered and sometimes he didn’t. But the detour back to the clones’ home planet seemed inexplicable. Instead of pressing her, since he figured he was about to find out, he walked through the brilliant white innards of the CMEC and remembered. 

“I can’t believe how different it feels,” Grip murmured as they passed a room full of cadets who were at desks, crowned with headsets and faces beset with concentration. Swift eyed them, able to recall his time in those same chairs with utter clarity. Yet his brother was right; the changes they’d seen over their time in the war rendered those inward images ghostly and surreal.

“Yeah, or how dirty we look by comparison,” Twofer chuckled. Their dark, worn-in Katarn armor was anomalous even among the other armored clones in the facility, still all in white. It inspired many furtive glances from passing cadets. Swift looked ahead again, at the tangled white mess of hair leading the way.

Stone was close behind Sol, just as silent as she was while the others chatted and pondered. He could always feel her shifting moods, and he watched her eyes not seem to settle on anything in particular as they walked. She caught him looking, though, and glanced up.

“I’ll be alright, vod,” she assured him in a low voice. In response he simply put a big hand on her shoulder. Swift sighed, grateful in that moment for the odd family they all made-- even moreso now, with reminders of how innocent they’d once been all around him.

When they arrived at the medical center, another Kaminoan doctor directed them down to the offices. As they arrived, the doors unfurled to greet them. 

“Hello, Sol Tannor,” said the tall, spindly alien in the eternally subdued cadence of her species. “May I inquire as to the honor of your visit?” 

“Nala Se,” Sol replied. It wasn’t a rude tone, but the blunt greeting of a Mando which Swift assumed the scientist was well used to by now. “I’m here to make a simple request.” 

“What is it?” If Se was curious or surprised, she betrayed nothing.

“I’d like a copy of my entire medical record here, along with the data about my genome.” 

Huge eyes blinked at her. Now there was passing curiosity. “Why?”

“It’s the closest thing I have to my parents,” Sol said, voice falling a little softer. “And, the most information I’ve ever had about myself. I’d like it for posterity.”

“Do you plan to do anything with that information, Sergeant?” Nala Se asked, and there was something almost condescending in her tone. But, Swift thought, that wasn’t entirely unusual for a Kaminoan, either. 

“I’m not sure yet. I assume that no one in the galaxy is more equipped to study my genes than you and your team, so I’m not sure I could ever expand meaningfully on your research. But it’s possible that one day something might change, even after I’m gone, and perhaps the knowledge could be used to help others with my condition, if they exist.” 

Now the scientist seemed both appeased and subdued. “That is thoughtful of you, Sol. I see no reason to deny you access to the data. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the research computers you may use to access and copy it for yourself.” 

Sol nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

As they followed the slender wisp of a woman down the corridor and into an unassuming corner lab, the entire team was staring holes in the back of her head. But she didn’t look back until Se reached out a long arm to indicate the access point she’d unlocked.

“Go ahead. If you need me, I’ll be down in my office.” As she left, Sol turned to Grip. 

“Can I borrow Beedee to copy all the information?” she asked.

“Um, of course,” he replied, and the little droid beeped cheerfully and hopped down to the floor to prance over to the computer. “But are you gonna explain any of this?” 

“You already know that the Kaminoans discovered my genetic defect,” she said, glancing between them. “They recently decided that they’d done all the research they were interested in doing. I decided that I wanted a copy of it for myself, just in case I ever need it.” 

“Well, that’s fair,” Swift said as he stroked his chin. “But you just said yourself that nobody’s better at genes than these guys. Why bother?” 

“I also said that it’s the best connection I have with my parents,” she replied. “Call it sentimental, but I have nothing else to remember them by.” 

Grip’s nod was sympathetic. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense, even to a clone,” he said. BD-9 whistled, and Sol turned to look at it. 

“That was fast,” she said, smiling. “We can put it on a chip when we get back to the Titan. Could you do me one more favor?”

The little droid beeped eagerly.

“Will you scan the clone DNA database and let me know if there are any parts of it missing?” At that, Swift eyed her.

“What?” Twofer asked. “Was that part of the plan?”

“It is now,” Sol replied. “I was just thinking about our last trip to an aquatic planet.” The boys glanced between themselves, somewhat uneasy but considering. The droid, of course, was already hard at work. 

“What if they find out?” Grip murmured, stepping closer to her.

“Do they have a way to record basic scans?”

“Should maybe have asked that before you put the little guy over there to work, Sarge,” said Swift archly. How ad-hoc had this entire trip been, anyway? 

“That’s incredibly rare, especially in such a well-contained bubble like this,” Grip said. “They’re unlikely to know, I just… I get nervous.” 

“I’m not copying anything. I’m just looking through the files to see what’s where.” BD-9 whirred and chirped, disconnecting from the computer and turning to face them.

“Yes, technically you’re the one looking, I know,” she said to it with a grin. “Let’s talk about what you found once we’re outta here, suvarir?” In reply it jumped over to Grip and launched itself up onto his shoulder. 

“Good call,” Swift whispered, nudging her arm. It was playful, but she sensed the seriousness behind it. She usually did.

“Don’t feel tricked,” she urged him quietly. “I really didn’t think about the scan until I realized we had Beedee. Otherwise it would’ve taken too long.”

“Yeah, but why?” he asked.

“You want to bet on there not being any data in there about the clones’ aging process?” she asked. 

He regarded her, brow gone cloudy as he thought about it. “You think she erased it? Even from here?”

“Why else would that Null be looking for it? Otherwise, it would be easy for him to walk in and take it just like we could have.” 

Swift nodded slowly as her reasoning made itself clear. His eyes danced around his old home as they made their way back towards the landing platform, watching the astonished gazes of young cadets as they passed by. Thinking about how quickly they grew, how quickly he’d grown. He didn’t have to ponder for very long about why a Null-ARC might be seeking Ko Sai’s research, after his words from their intercepted transmission. And he didn’t think it was very likely that a Null would trust the Kaminoans or the Republic to put that research to use the way he wanted to. Taking a long, slow inhale, Swift shook his head.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

Chapter Text

Kashyyyk, outside Thikkiiana, Republic Military Outpost 

The leisurely pace with which Stone lowered the Titan over the planet of Kashyyyk was entirely due to the massive thunderheads that were lingering over their landing point. But when they finally began to thin and fade, the sight that greeted its passengers commanded its own pause. 

Wroshyr trees loomed like giants between the gaps in the clouds, but ahead of them in the distance was a tree so massive that its canopy stretched above them entirely. Sol was behind Stone in the copilot’s seat, gazing out of the viewport with wonder. 

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked him, voice strangely quiet.

“No,” he said. “I’ve never even met a Wookiee.”

“I have, but I never imagined this is where they came from.” All the sights of the massive, hairy creatures who held their place between wild and civilized with all the poise and ferocity of warriors passed through her mind on a reel that she sped through, unwilling to linger on the worst of such encounters. But there was ever a respect between Mandalorians and any other warlike, disciplined creature; Wookies were no exception. Somehow, the lush tangle of Kashyyyk seemed a befitting home for them even though it surprised her to see a place less brutal than a desert or an endless blizzard.

Perhaps it wasn’t less brutal at all, she thought.

“We’re coming down towards the platform,” Stone told her. But Sol didn’t bother to buckle up. Her vod was better at smooth landings than she was, so much so that she almost hadn’t noticed they weren’t moving anymore the first time he’d done it.

The base was, apparently, a massive network of platforms and walkways that wove around the many arms of the wroshyr tree they’d landed on. Below them was strip of marshy beach where the craggy heads of earth and stone gave way to a massive river that ran between them like a lazy serpent. Above, the tree seemed to climb into the sky itself.

A trooper in camouflage armor— a commander, by his rank pauldron— was waiting when they exited the Titan. He led them through what felt like an endless winding maze of wood-plank pathways up to the covered platform that was serving as a war room. Rex was already there, looking over a holomap as he stroked his chin with his gloved hand. 

“Captain,” said the trooper, “the commando squad is here.”

“‘Bout damn time,” Rex replied as he turned from the map with a smile. “Thank you, Commander Gree.”

“I told you we’d be late,” Sol said, trying not to walk up too close to him. 

“You’re a lot later than I expected. But it doesn't matter. General Yoda’s not back from Coruscant, so he can’t brief you on anything just yet. Might as well come with me and take a look at your bunks for the night.”

“You’re too kind, Captain,” said Swift. “We haven’t slept very well this week.” 

“Is this more of that super-secret commando stuff?” Rex asked as he beckoned them to join him on yet another series of walkways, ascending the tree a little all the way.

“Elek, but don’t worry. I only dislocated a rib twice,” Sol chuckled. Grip snorted.

“What about you, sir? What’ve you and your boys been up to?” Twofer asked.

“We’ve been here for a day, waiting for General Skywalker and Commander Tano to meet us. Before that, we were on our own little secret mission.” His playfulness wasn’t as present as usual, Sol noticed.

“Yours wasn’t as much fun as ours, was it?” Swift asked.

“Probably not,” the captain replied, voice nearing sober now. “But we’ll catch you up properly at dinner.” 

When they arrived at a series of huts that were outfitted with, of all things, hammocks, Grip whistled. 

“This is a first. These comfy?” he asked, pushing the first one he came up on to watch it sway.

“They’re not bad, at least not for the first night,” Rex replied with a chuckle. “Take your pick. This platoon just moved out this morning.” 

“They got one big enough for Stone?” Swift asked.

“They’re built for Wookiees, so I think you’ll be alright,” Rex told the big clone, who chuckled and nodded.

“Thank you, Captain,” Stone said.

“Of course. Sol, if you’ll come with me, the officer’s quarters are this way.”

“Don’t get lost on the way to dinner, Sol’ika,” Swift teased her, much to the amusement of his squadmates. But she couldn’t be agitated, not with Rex this close for the first time in over a week, so she just raised an eyebrow and turned to file out of the little hut behind his white and blue armor.

The officer’s quarters wasn’t much more interesting than the regular quarters had been; another hut full of hammocks, this one slightly smaller and just as empty. 

“They gave you the whole room?” Sol asked with a grin.

“No, but the 43rd’s bunking the next tree over and the 13th just moved out,” Rex replied as he placed his helmet inside one of the slings. He turned back towards her, the full weight of whatever shadow she’d noticed before on his face alongside the weary, relieved little smile there. “It’s good to see you, verd’ika.”

“And you,” she said. “Me'vaar ti gar?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed. “Just… it’s been a long week for me, too.” 

“What happened?” 

“It’s about dinner time,” he said. “Let me get something in my belly, first.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Real food?”

“You might like what the Wookiees keep around,” he replied with a grin. 

-----

Torrent Company was already sitting on the floor of their barracks, another hammock-slung hut, when Rex and Cronos Squad arrived. Kix was passing out what looked like strips of dried meat and little yellow fruits. Apparently, there was no actual mess hall at this particular outpost.

“Hey! Look who’s finally here,” Jesse joked around a mouthful of meat. 

“Always good to see you, love,” Kix said to Sol, handing her her ration with a smile. “How are you all?”

“Not terrible, all things considered,” Grip replied, clasping hands with his fellow medic. “What’s this you’re feeding us?” 

“Arrawtha-dyr jerky,” Kix said.

“It’s pretty damn good,” Hardcase piped up from his seat on the floor. “These things are okay, too,” he added, tossing a fruit up in the air. 

“I’ll be honest, I couldn’t pronounce the name of them,” Kix intoned. “But they beat the hell outta dry rations.” 

“That they do,” Rex agreed. “By the way, Cronos, I’d like to introduce you all to the newest member of our company.” Sol turned towards where he extended his hand. Her eyes fell on a clone, only barely younger than the others, with his long hair pulled up into a bun and a single tear tattooed on his face. He looked up as though startled, then sank back down into his shoulders a little sheepishly.

“This is Tup,” the Captain said. “Tup, this is Sergeant Sol Tannor of Cronos Squad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sol said with a smile, holding out her hand to shake. Tup scrambled to his feet and took it, shaking vigorously. “This is Swift, Grip, Twofer, and Stone,” she added, nodding at each of her vode in turn. 

“N-nice to meet you, too,” Tup replied, smiling in spite of his apparent jitters. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“All bad, I hope,” Twofer grinned roguishly. Tup’s tanned skin flushed; apparently he wasn’t used to being teased incessantly yet.

“Of course it was,” Rex chuckled as they all settled down on the floor. Sol took a bite of the savory, dry jerky— it was good, she thought, and immensely preferable to their usual options. It was also good to sit and have dinner with the 501st again, though the atmosphere in the room was a little gray compared to the tents on Moraga. 

Then, she realized that a lot of that was due to how quietly Fives was sitting nearby, eyes never much wavering from the wooden slats of the floor. So despite her boys falling into their usual chat with the other clones, a brightness had gone out of the room. On the heels of that realization came another. 

“Where’s Echo?” she asked, turning to Rex. His hand stalled halfway to his mouth with a strip of jerky in it, and his eyes flitted over to Fives. 

Of course, she thought as her heart sank. There was a new member of Torrent Company for a reason.

“We lost him at the Citadel,” Fives said, looking up at her with more sadness in his eyes than she’d ever seen there. But the name registered something in the back of her mind, too— something she put away for later. A silence had fallen over the room.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Swift said, putting his hand gently on Fives’ armored knee. The ARC trooper only nodded, shutting his eyes for a moment. 

“Actually, we were thinking of having a little vigil after dinner. For Echo, and maybe you’d like to honor Commander Ponds as well,” Rex said, looking at Sol at this last. Some of the grief she hadn’t yet let wash over her lapped at her chest, pulling her shoulders into a sag.

“I think that would be really nice,” she replied softly. When she glanced back at Fives, he was nodding.

“I’d like to say goodbye to someone, too,” Twofer said. She looked over at her vod, and a sad little smile came over her face. Grip put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. 

“I saw these flowers growing on a vine down closer to the ground level,” Tup piped up. “They’re the only ones nearby that seem to be non-carnivorous. We could set them loose on the river, maybe? That won’t look obvious to any unfriendlies who might see them.” 

Rex smiled. “Good thinking, Tup,” he said. A series of nods and murmured agreements came from around the room, and the younger clone smiled as though he was happy to be contributing.

The rest of the meal went on quieter than usual but comforting in the fresh losses the troopers were carrying. The ones who wanted to stand vigil with them— most of the company, it felt like— followed behind Tup as he led them towards the vines he spoke of. Huge flowers with soft petals that began a deep orange hue that faded into yellow at the ends were growing there, and Cronos Squad set about gently cutting a few of them off with their vibroblades. Tup climbed a little higher to clip one that was especially large, and Sol watched him climb back down and hand it to Twofer. It surprised her when the younger clone put his hand on the commando’s shoulder and smiled sadly at him, and even more when Twofer smiled back rather than shooing away the touch. 

Their march down to the banks was slow. Sol, Rex, Fives, Twofer, Kix, Jesse, Hardcase, and Tup all carried blooms, and as they lined up along the gray line of the river the other troopers clustered behind them.

The sun was already mostly tucked away behind the tall and jagged rocks that rose like teeth out of the river, and everything that had been green before was fading more towards blueish shadow. The sky was cloudy in patches, the air thick with humidity and full of the trilling calls of crepuscular creatures that heralded the coming night.

First among them to carry his flower down to the bank was Fives, holding back his tears with as much effort as Sol usually did. 

“Echo, my brother, you were one of the best of us,” he said. Then he knelt to place the flower on the rippling surface of the water, and watched as it bobbed along and was carried away. As he turned back, the other members of Torrent Company, save for Rex, left the line at once to follow suit. As the cluster of flowers eddied and bumped into one another, they all marched back up in a group. Rex stepped up to hug Fives briefly, and Sol knew in the strange way that soldiers know that they had both witnessed Echo’s death where the others had only received news of it. 

Rex was next to take to the water, and instead of looking at the flower, he was looking out at the river as it rushed past him.

“Echo, I can’t put it better than your brother did, so I won’t try.” Then there was a pause that seemed uncertain. “And Farrow,” he said at last, and Sol’s heart broke wide open for him. “I’ll always miss you, love. Thank you for your time with me.” He slipped his orange bloom out onto its path, and so it made its way downriver.

When the captain turned around to look at her, she glanced over at Twofer. His hesitation was palpable, but Grip gave him a little push and he made his way to the edge of the water while Rex made his way back. Twofer laid a hand on Rex’s shoulder gently as he passed, and the captain nodded back to him.

For a long moment the commando was still. Then, he sighed. 

“I know I never said it, but I loved you, Jex, and I always will,” he said quietly. “I know you’d want me to be happy, sweet girl. So for you I’ll try.” 

He knelt and let the water carry his flower out of his palm and away to chase its siblings. Trudging back up towards the others, his shoulders sagged. Rex seemed to be watching, understanding in a way that Sol could believe after what he’d told her on the steps of Second Moon Temple. Then Fives actually stepped forward to wrap his arms around Twofer, and held their foreheads together for a moment. 

Sol pretended not to see the tear that slid down her vod’s cheek. Before he knew it, Twofer was surrounded by the rest of his squad and, more distantly, the others of the 501st. Except Rex, who turned once more to look at her.

“Go on,” he almost whispered. She glanced over at the rest of them as they all broke away from their massive huddle to watch her complete their little farewell. Then, she stepped down onto the sandy bank and stood with her booted feet in the water. 

She thought of the first time she’d sparred with Ponds in the early days of the war, before she knew what it was like to have a brother. His easy familiarity and willingness to help her had stood out when she’d expected him to be annoyed, at best, that his general was making him train a little girl. His surprise when she’d put him flat on his back not two minutes into their first spar, followed by a genuine laugh. How much he loved to tease her, because eventually she finally began to tease him back. 

Then, she couldn’t help but think of Echo. He’d been so sweet, and much shyer than his protective and rambunctious brother Fives. She could remember dancing with him at 79’s, how much he laughed as she told him about stepping on Stone’s feet ten times earlier that night. His gentle worried look towards Rex as the captain sat glued to his booth, obviously lonely. The way he’d clapped hands with Twofer after Mashem Te, glad to see him alive after dragging him unconscious through the desert sand and the shrapnel of the Behemoth. 

Perhaps it wasn’t her place to think of Jex, who she’d known only a little, but she did. All she knew was that Twofer’s smile when he talked about her had flooded her with warmth. And the way the Mirialan girl smiled back at him had been reassuring in a way she wasn’t sure how to describe, one that let his vode trust her with their brother’s secret heart.

“Ponds… ni vercopaanir gar ru mar’eyir mavar, ori’vod,” she said to the flower. “And for all we miss today, mhi su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Mhi partayli, gar darasuum.” Then, for the benefit of everyone else, she translated the Mandalorian remembrance of the dead. “We live, but you have died. We remember you, and so you are eternal.” 

Gingerly she put the bloom down on the water’s surface with her shaking hands and watched as it wandered out towards the stronger currents. It was almost out of sight when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

“Come on, little’un,” Stone said in his low voice. “We should rest.” She nodded, turning to go with him back to the group of soldiers who stood watching her.

Chapter Text

Kashyyyk, outside Thikkiiana, Republic Military Outpost 

Rex either didn’t sleep very well in hammocks, or he just didn’t sleep very well when he could be watching Sol instead. The morning light was still dim as it filtered in through the window in the otherwise empty little hut, but her dark skin threw it back at him in highlights and it caught in her white hair as she lay slumbering in the hammock beside his.

They’d only removed the top half of their armor to settle into the officer’s quarters the night before, seeing as it would take far too long to fully suit up if there was an emergency call for some reason. He’d told her about the Citadel, and Echo; when he’d finished she’d told him about Ponds.

Or started to, at least. When she’d drifted off to sleep in the midst of her story, he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. He’d tried to follow suit, but mostly he’d listened to her breathe and watched her shift and murmur in her sleep for he knew not how long. When he awoke very close to the call for breakfast, it had been like any clone would awaken— quick, easy, with no trail of heavy eyelids to lure him back to sleep. For once there had been no nightmares, either. But the clones were engineered to be awake as quickly as they needed to be.

Sol, on the other hand, woke slowly, at least that day. Her eyes fluttered open first, gazing over at him under their haze of sleep. He smiled at her, she smiled back, and then her eyes fell shut again. Within moments her breathing had resumed its steady rhythm and she was gone.  He blinked, not quite realizing what had happened for a moment as he was so unused to the half-wakeful state birthers seemed to be able to access. The ache that had been sitting low in his chest the entire night, watching her lie still but for the tide of her breath, came back sharply into focus. She needed the rest, he thought. She wasn’t engineered to function despite sleep deprivation like he was. But the time to rise was close enough that he couldn’t let her sleep long.

The next time she woke, he was stroking her shoulder gently from where he now sat in his hammock.

“Hmm,” came her sleepy hum.

“You awake this time, verd’ika?” he asked. 

“Mmm.” She frowned and gave a minute shake of her head. Rex chuckled, enchanted by how precious it was.

“Come on, now,” he urged her. “Breakfast time soon.”

“Hrm,” she growled into the hammock. 

“Grumpy, aren’t you?” All this earned him was a huff. “I wonder if this is what Commander Tano means when she says that General Skywalker isn’t a morning person,” he mused. Sol gave a faint little giggle. 

“Bet he isn’t,” she murmured drowsily, without opening her eyes. 

“So I have to talk you awake, then, do I?” 

“Hmmm.” 

“This’ll be a one-sided conversation, I see.” She didn’t respond at all this time, only shifted to turn and face deeper into the fabric she was slung up in. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, little one. You can’t just sleep until General Yoda gets here this afternoon.” 

“I’m not that little,” she grumbled, opening one eye to glare at him. 

“I’m one of the taller clones, y’know,” he told her. “At least, within the normal variation. Stone’s an exception. But you still look little from here.”

“Stone is more than a foot taller than me.”

“I’m plenty taller than you, too.” 

Finally her head tilted up at him and her eyes, now both open, narrowed. “How tall are you?” 

“Six feet.” He watched her mouth quirk into a frown, as though she were disappointed that he was, in fact, pretty tall for a clone. Her other teammates all hovered around 5’7”-5’8”. “And how tall are you, again?” 

“I’m… I dunno. Between five-two and five-three, maybe.”

“Krayt-spit,” he said. “You’re five-foot-one, maybe one and a half. At most.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m pretty good at measuring people up. Especially when I’ve tried to spar with them.” He smirked at her. “But, if you really don’t like it, I can try something else. ‘Grouchy lump’, maybe, or ‘feral girl’. ‘Little spitfire,’ even.” 

“Gar nuh’la, alor’ad,” she replied flatly.

“I like to think I’m pretty funny, yeah. Are you awake now?” 

“Barely.” 

“Let me fix that for you,” he said, moving to step out of his hammock and pushing her inside hers so it swung back and forth with her inside it. “How about now?” 

“Fine,” she sighed, wobbling upright with a scowl. “You’ve talked me into it.” 

At that moment, both of their communicators beeped. 

“Just in time, too,” Rex murmured as he brought his arm to his face and tapped the button on his vambrace. “This is Captain Rex.”

“Good morning, Captain,” said Commander Gree. “Just wanted to forward the message to you that General Yoda should be arriving some time after lunch, today, in case you had any business to wrap up before he does.”

“Thank you for the update, sir,” Rex replied. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Breakfast is also ready, of course.”

“I see you saved the best for last,” he chuckled. 

“Of course. Gree out.” 

“Breakfast, huh?” Sol asked as she hopped out of her hammock, which was still swaying a little. 

“Next time I need to wake you, I’ll just wave food under your nose,” Rex said with a smile. “And then we have all morning to kill. Which should be easy.”

“We could drill like we were supposed to,” she offered. Rex raised an eyebrow.

“They do have a couple of training platforms here…”

“So, after breakfast I’m teaching you a lesson?” She was grinning too raucously for him to say no, of course.

“Sure, little one, you can try.”

She nearly chased him out of the hut, and they were both laughing. 

-----

“Studying for your defeat?” Sol asked as Rex took a moment to sit on the floor of the training platform, leaning back against the beams that held up its roof. It was much more open-air than the huts they slept in, and much higher up the wroshyr tree. She continued to move through the set of drills she was working on.

“Something like that,” he said, catching his breath. They’d been running through movements as if through the entire guidebook from the beginning for an hour since eating, but either Rex was too winded to keep going— which seemed unlikely— or he was considering doing something else. “I mean, I could watch you all day.” 

Sol felt her face flush instantly, and she stopped mid-movement. “Alright, what are you on about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing at all,” he said, almost innocently. “Just thought I’d learn something.”

“Would you rather spar?” She didn’t think she could take being watched by him, not with the way his eyes made her stomach flip when he focused too closely on her.

“No audience?” He gestured around at the empty platform. The other troopers were below doing Maker knew what. “In our armor?”

“That’s how I was trained.” She reached to unfasten one of her elbow guards. “Except I’ll take these off.”

“Why?” Rex asked, but then he looked and saw the extra spines of plastoid that were jutting out of her elbow and knee guards. There were some on her boots and greaves, too. Sol smiled at him rather smugly; they were her own personal augmentations, resembling her parents’ armor. “Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Nevermind, I get it. I’ll take off mine too, just to be fair. Same sparring rules as always?” 

“Of course.” They removed elbows, knees, gloves, and boots, leaving them by the woven mat on the floor. “Hope you’ve been practicing,” Sol said as she crossed towards the center of the platform.

“You sure you don’t wanna save it for the next big day, verd’ika?” His smirk was approaching insufferable, and unbelievably attractive.

“This is just a preview, alor’ad,” she replied, dropping into her starting stance as if to drive home her point. Rex took his own stance across from her, and the emptiness of their space let her put all of her focus on him. Which was the only thing it had been on before, but there was an outlet for it now, at last.

They circled, and she made a point of starting the same way she had the last time. But he was more patient than he had been then, so she broke the tension by testing him with a strike. His reflexes were impeccable, his dodge clean. She tried again with a two-part attack, and he blocked her almost casually. 

“You’re going easy on me, Sol,” he chided her. But her focus was intent, a kind that was singular to the combat that was her birthright. She raised an eyebrow at him, which seemed to be enough to jumpstart his attacks.

The match exploded into a flurry of strikes on both sides, and Rex did remember her tactics from before, she noted. Each block and parry was familiar, and his rebuttals just so. Of course, there was a reason she was as good as she was. 

Feinting mid-strike, she took him by the arm as it jutted out to block her and spun him to the ground, flat on his back on the mat. His response was instant, swiveling to try and swipe his leg under her feet; she struck down at him, but he blocked her and ducked away to roll back upright. Now all semblance of banter had drained from them, and there were only two bodies moving in a dance that ran sinewy and fluid before it broke into rapid, fervent staccato, then collapsed quiet only to burst forward again. Once he put her on the ground, but his center of gravity was against him. By the time he was back on the ground beside her and she’d thrown a knee over him, he blocked her strikes and rolled them over to pin her down.

For an instant, he paused and stared at her beneath him, hair coming out of its high ponytail, golden eyes staring back at him from under her white eyebrows as he pinned her arms to the mat on either side of her head. Despite the way her legs trembled on either side of his body, she saw his mistake. 

He thought he’d won. 

Gripping his waist with her thighs and twisting herself just so, she once again knocked him off balance and rolled over until she was on top of him. She yanked her arms downward, and struck at the inner ditch of his elbows with her fingers. All of this at once had exactly the intended effect; his body loosened in some places and went rigid in others, just enough for her to pin his arms and bring one knee into the tender crevice of his thigh and torso where no armor could help him, pressing against his femoral artery.

She’d intended to smirk at her victory, but the morning sunlight streaming between the branches of the wroshyr tree was catching in his eyes and turning them to liquid amber. They both panted in unison, and Sol could swear their hearts were pounding in time, too. His smell hit her suddenly, the same smell from his office before, only this time it was full of sweat and heat as his chest heaved beneath her. Her eyes landed on his mouth, slightly open as he worked to take in more air, and she bit her bottom lip without realizing it. 

“What do you win?” he asked her finally, breathlessly. She leaned down, hovering close to his face. 

“The satisfaction,” she cooed, sliding her hands away from where they gripped his arms and sitting up again, pulling her knee away from the delicate spot it threatened so casually. It was ironic, really, since what she felt at that precise moment was the farthest thing from satisfaction. But that knot inside her had wrapped itself up again, and she climbed off of him before it could get any worse. She did reach down and offer him her hand, though, which he promptly took and used to return to his feet as well. 

“I wonder if I stood a chance,” he murmured, still close to her.

“You’ve done better than almost anyone I’ve ever met,” she replied, the grin that came over her face much less smug than usual. “With sparring, at least.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised, or maybe skeptical.

“Combat is different. I’d rather not find out about that, though.”

“Yeah, think I’d rather you were on my side, too,” he said. She realized almost belatedly that she’d never turned loose of his hand, and he hadn’t let go either. Something changed in his face, but she couldn’t have said what. “Sol, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” 

Rex glanced away, as though he were struggling with the words. “Do you remember anything after asking me to tell you a story, down on Moraga?” 

“You mean aside from the thing about the centipede?” She almost laughed, but now she was nervous. She did remember some things, but what was real and what wasn’t remained unclear. 

“Yeah, aside from that,” he said, a smile flashing over his face and then falling away again. He seemed even closer now, and her body was tingling with the proximity. 

“Everything seemed like a vision,” she replied. “I remember… voices that weren’t yours. But you told me you wouldn’t leave. I remember feeling a cold hand on my shoulder, and then a warm hand on my face. I—”

“I have some memories I’m not sure are real, either,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “Like one where I kissed you. But that seems like a pretty strange time to have done something like that.” 

Sol felt her heart stop. “You did what?”

“I-I dunno,” he stammered. He seemed embarrassed, or regretful, or something she wasn’t quite sure of. 

“Um.” She had no idea what to say. Having never been kissed, she wasn’t sure if that had been what happened. The way she’d been fading had rendered every sensation duller than the last, and she thought she’d seen his face suddenly get very, very close to hers. But there was nothing like the shock on her lips that she’d expected, no sense of being connected to him. It was like she’d been numb, and almost blind. The idea that it might have happened, yet somehow she’d been unable to feel it...

“Don’t worry about it,” Rex said, pulling away from her and heading towards his armor at the edge of the mat. “I was going a little nuts down there, after all.” 

She felt him withdrawing, and felt a strange pang in her chest when he did. Maybe this wasn’t the time or the place to ‘figure it out’, she thought. But she wanted to try.

“Su’cuy,” she said after him softly. He looked up from where he was tugging on his boots. 

“Hey,” he replied, smiling a little as though he was confused as to why she’d be greeting him in Mando’a when they’d just been talking. 

“Do you want to walk me up to the observation deck? Just… because it would be nice, before the General arrives?” Her heart throbbed in her ears, but she’d done it. She’d kept the door from sliding shut. She could figure something out, dammit.

“Oh,” he murmured “Sure, why not? That does sound nice.” His smile was bigger now, and maybe a bit relieved. Sol couldn’t help but return it.

“I thought so, too.”

Just as they were about to ascend the platform steps to the walkways that would lead them up higher, of course, both of their comms started to ring. She frowned, and looked up at him. 

“I’m starting to get tired of this,” he growled. They turned the other direction, down towards the war room. 

-----

When they arrived, a tiny green figure in brown robes awaited them. 

“Greetings, Captain Rex and Sergeant Tannor,” Yoda said in his scratchy little voice. Rex always thought it was strange how one could hear stories about this particular Jedi that bordered on mythological, and yet see him and mistake him for a mossy log if he stood still enough. But the diminutive alien exuded his hard-earned wisdom when he spoke. 

“General Yoda,” Rex replied, standing at attention. Sol nodded, posture formal but not stick-straight as a clone’s. 

“At ease. News I have, for you both. For Cronos Squad, a mission to Drongar. For the 501st, deployment to Umbara. But arriving soon, Skywalker is. Give you more details he will, Captain.” 

Rex nodded. He was unsurprised to hear that news, if he was honest. “Yes sir. Is the situation on Umbara the same as it was two weeks ago, sir?”

“Worse,” Yoda replied, shaking his balding head. “Well-armed, the Umbarans are. Need some of the best men, we do, to take the planet.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Rex felt a swell of pride.

“And, young Sol.” Hobbling a little on his stick, Yoda approached her. “Know you of the bota plant?”

Sol seemed to be recalling. “It’s medicinal, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, hmm, powerful healing it brings. Other properties it has as well. Only on Drongar does it grow.” 

“Sounds like something the Separatists must be interested in.”

“Mm, yes. Very much. Sent a Jedi there before, we have. Now, send her back we may, as the fight continues. Heavy, the losses have been on Drongar, and much meddling by criminal interests there has been in the bota trade. To end the battles, our goal is.”

“Criminal interests?” she asked. Her eyes glimmered with something— familiarity, maybe a wisp of disgust, an expression Rex rarely saw on her face. The only time he remembered seeing it before was as she stood over Thar Vizla’s body on Talasea. This was infinitely more subdued.

Yoda’s eyes glimmered now, but with observant curiosity. “Yes.”

“Black Sun?”

“Heard of the trouble with Admiral Bleyd, have you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and wriggling one of his massive ears.

“No, sir. Just a hunch.” 

Well, Rex thought, her father had been a bounty hunter, after all. Suddenly he was wondering more than ever about her past, the parts of it that apparently very few people knew about. General Yoda obviously found this statement more enlightening than the captain did by the look on his face. 

“A correct hunch, then, Sergeant. On the lookout for their activity, you must be.”

Her nod was brief, the flicker of emotion replaced with calm, professional focus on par with that of any clone. “Extraction?” 

“A Rimsoo there is, on the planet. Above the planet, Medstar Nineteen orbits. Contact the nearest cruiser for extraction, one of these will.” 

“Suvar,” Sol nodded. “My men and I will see to it, General Yoda.” 

“Careful, you must be, Sol Tannor,” said Yoda, and his tone was that of a teacher who knows much more than he lets on.

“What do you mean, sir?” she asked. Rex saw her confusion and the drop of worry that hid within it.

“In your purpose you must trust, if greet you unexpectedly on Drongar, your past does.”

This opacity, so typical of the Jedi, did not seem to enthuse her. Particularly when it was clear that the story of Talasea had made its way up the ranks. “Why send me, if you think I must be more careful than anyone else?” she asked.

“Because an advantage, a vulnerability may also be,” smiled the little green creature. “Trust in you, Master Windu does. So, trust in you, I will.” 

“Vor’e, General,” Sol said, softening and nodding her Mando nod. She glanced at Rex, who just gave her a brief little nod of his own and the suggestion of a smile. 

He hated that they were going to be fighting separately again, despite the inanity of that feeling. There was no way they’d ever be sure of going together to any deployment. But his stumble from a few minutes before haunted him, her strangely blank response to his confession followed by her request to spend more time alone with him replaying in his mind. It was confusing enough that he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up, or decide that she didn’t like him after all. 

They would have to save that conversation for the next time they came together between battles, he thought. In the meantime, they both had their work cut out for them.

Chapter Text

Drongar, near the Quarohan Steppes, Republic Military Surgical Unit 7

Swift pouted for all of a minute about not being able to take the Titan down to the surface of Drongar; the news that had cured him of this dismay was that there were massive clouds of spores in the atmosphere of the planet that would get into the systems if you didn’t change the filters at an alarming rate, and even if that yielded no problems, all metal machines suffered immense wear and tear in the sodden, hot climate. By the time they’d zigzagged through the haze and were speeding towards the landing pad at the Rimsoo, the sheer density of life on Drongar had already overpowered their memories of all the other jungles they’d marched through. Everything was alive here, and more than that, there were at least four more alive things attached to, on top of, or growing within every other alive thing. 

Twofer was shaking his head, looking out of the open door of the Rimsoo bunks at the green and dark pink and blueish kaleidoscope of life, watching a pile of dark rainclouds loom in the distance with forked lightning already leaping out of them to prod the surface. 

“This is a terrible spot for a fight,” he muttered. The remains of a battle— that is, shrapnel and grimy lumps of decay and plastoid that had once been troopers— had appeared in a muddy swath of open ground beneath them as they’d come in low for landing And it hadn’t looked good. “Even with the suits and the helmets.”

“Yeah, this terrain is brutal,” Grip agreed, stroking his chin. 

“It gets worse,” Swift said from where he was sitting nearby on his cot, no longer looking out but instead swiping his finger over a datapad. “Apparently the bota is highly flammable, along with other things that grow down there, which means we’re allowed even less materiél than we were on Moraga.” 

“Look at you taking over Grip’s job and being the scientist,” Twofer joked with a grin that was more like a grimace. “Maybe I should be one, too, since clearly I won’t get to do many demolitions this time around.”

“You didn’t get your fill with that Seppie camp back on Bogoa?” Grip teased, pushing Twofer’s shoulder gently. The weapons expert just sighed.

“Actually, you could get away with some small munitions if we’re inside the Sep’s base,” Sol said, sticking her foot out to prod him. “And since our goal is the central command computer, you might have to.” 

“Yeah, I’m not trying to slice my way through that if we don’t have to,” Grip said. BD-9, who was nearby standing guard over his master’s helmet, beeped and whirred. “Not even with you there, Beedee. Less risk to all of us if we can blow it up. It’s a dense system.” 

“Yeah, big explosions aren’t very risky, after all,” Sol grinned. 

“I’m worried about the lack of intel,” Twofer said, unwilling to joke around anymore when it came to his beloved ordnance. “Dunno what to take if we don’t know what we’re walking into.” 

“Not sure what to do with a bunch of tents, either,” Stone chimed in. Sol could tell by the little wrinkle in the middle of his forehead that the big clone had been puzzling over the risks of trying to infiltrate a long-term enemy encampment that was mostly made of thin sheets of plastoid fabric, the occasional bit of duraplast or ferrocrete, and likely an energy dome to shield such flimsy structures from inevitable decimation by the relentless powers of such an ample ecosystem, to say nothing of the risks of warfare. Because that was what the Republic had set up for their base here, and there was no reason to believe that the Seps would fare better with anything radically different. It would be profoundly difficult to infiltrate, and much harder than usual to use the base itself defensively without permacrete and durasteel walls for cover. 

“Don’t worry, vod,” Swift said, sensing his brother’s worry. “This is a critical strike. We’ve got General Tammeth and the 45th battalion coming to help us. Might just need them to provide a distraction instead of sneaking around.” 

“That’s my hope,” Stone replied. “This breaks certain rules of engagement. It may be that we put the Rimsoo in danger by striking this way.” 

“Not if we cancel out the Seps first,” said Twofer. Stone just nodded— there was no arguing with that, after all. 

“We’ll rendezvous with the 45th tomorrow and figure it out from there,” Sol said, and her voice was colored with the tone of a sergeant. Ordering her vode to stop worrying was turning into a habit. “They’ve been tasked with recon anyway, so they’ll probably be able to give new intel. Until then, gar ori'narseryc.” 

“Guess we’re just a little on edge, vod’ika,” Twofer murmured. Stone glanced at the ground, then up at Sol, then back at his hands. She stood and went over to put a hand on his shoulder gently. 

“We’ll be alright. This is different terrain, and the bota is a complication, but otherwise it’s the same things we always do. Udesiir, vode, and take a few breaths. Once we’re with the 45th a lot more will become clear, and then we’ll get these Seps out and maybe a black market epabarr or two along with them.” 

They all looked up at her with subdued little smiles on their faces. For once, she could feel their mutual weariness, but along with it came a profound sense of unity. A feeling that, no matter how tangled things got, they could rely on each other and that would carry them through more than anything else in the end. 

-----

Drongar, northeast of Bota Field A7

To perceive Drongar was to be impressed, and perhaps slightly put off, by its sheer fecundity. But the surgeons at the Rimsoo had, between their generally wholesome welcome of the commandos, been absolutely instilled with a hatred of the landscape that made its way out via ceaseless dry remarks and passive complaints. Once Cronos Squad was four hours deep in the crawling, slimy humidity outside the camp’s energy dome on their way to Rendezvous Point Alpha, they understood why. 

“Thank the Maker for these suits,” said Swift on the squad channel. “I’m not sure even a clone could last long marching out here without them.”

“It’s no wonder there’s so few Jedi fighting here,” Grip agreed. Ahead of them, Sol was picking their way through the marshy growths of dark green bushes, pale ferns, long purple grass, and everpresent fungal formations of spectacular size and hue. They were flanked close on both sides by gnarled trees, though just to the west and behind them was one of the bota fields that had lately seen some conflict.

“It seems like the bota doesn’t rank high enough on their priorities to benefit an all-out battle,” Swift said. “Or else they wouldn’t be sending us in to try and put a quieter end to it all.” 

“Did you see the one back there, though? The edge of it was scorched. Maybe they’ve stopped being careful about damaging it.” Twofer was giving every single flammable biological factor, of which there were a shocking amount for such a damp planet, careful and constant consideration. Because he was a consummate professional, and also because he always had the welfare of his squad and whoever was with them in mind.

“The whole field should’ve been up in flames if a stray mortar hit just the edge of it,” Grip said. “They clearly worked hard to stop the fire, so I don’t think they’re resorting to blowing up the stuff to make us desperate just yet.”

“Bota’s the only reason they’re not pushing up their lines yet, too,” Stone said as he sidestepped a patch of tall, skinny mushrooms that were dusty with spores. 

“He’s right. They’ve not given up on this stuff. I mean, the Republic won’t even let the docs at the Rimsoo use it, it’s so expensive.” Grip sounded a little displeased with this specific factoid, but offered no further commentary on it.

Sol’s HUD flickered, placing a priority alert up ahead. They’d finally arrived, and the 45th’s channel frequency was flashing as she scanned the information on the display as well as the landscape beyond it.

“That you, Cronos?” came a clone’s voice when she blinked her way into the channel.

“Jate tuur, verde!” she replied in greeting. “We’re coming from your south.”

“The General’s on her way to come fetch you, better keep an eye out.” There was a slightly amused tone to the clone’s voice, she thought, but that certainly didn’t bother her. 

“Sounds good.”

About a minute later, another and much less familiar voice came from behind.

“Oh, you are a big fellow, aren’t you?” 

Spinning around with the hilt of her DC-17 gripped firmly in her hand, Sol scanned for the source. But she saw only her vode, who had all frozen in tense confusion.

“My my,” came the high little trill again. “You’re an Alpha-ARC, too. They just don’t make them like they used to.” 

“Who’s there?” Sol called sharply. “Show yourself!” 

At that, a long-limbed monkey-like creature not even a meter high scrambled around the back of Stone’s helmet, climbing over the top of his backpack to perch on his shoulder. Which might not have surprised anyone but a local biologist who knew such fauna were not native to Drongar, but that wasn’t what caught Sol off-guard. Rather, the belts fashioned around its torso, brown cloth draped over it almost like clothing, and little goggles strapped to its head were what confused her. Stone’s helmet turned to look at his new companion, but if he was surprised he made no movement that betrayed it. 

“Can you see me now, trooper, hm?” The voice, along with tittering little chuckles, sounded for all the world like they were coming from the monkey. Under her bucket, Sol’s brow creased heavily; when her eyes caught the faint glimmer of the little metal tube wrapped in leather that was attached to the harness, though, she realized what was happening. 

“General Tammeth?” she asked, blinking and lowering her Deece.

“Takes most people much longer to figure it out, shorty!” And Tammeth cackled this time, her two tails dancing around behind her. “I heard about your tallest member before I got here, so I wanted to come see for myself if the rumors were krayt-spit or not! And Force bless me, they’re not after all.”

“Er, no ma’am,” said Swift as he, too, lowered his weapon. “Stone here’s just a little bigger than average.”

“A little,” she sighed. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll lead you the rest of the way from here, then, Trooper Stone.” 

The big clone chuckled under his bucket. “Aye, General.” As he made his way up to the front, Sol watched Tammeth— who she now realized was more than likely a Lurmen, a rather reclusive species of perfectly sentient primate— scratch her tufted ear with a leg that was made of metal. Apparently, the Jedi had seen some action. 

“Apologies, General,” she said as she fell in beside Stone. Tammeth peered down at her, and if Sol didn’t know any better she’d have said that the look was almost misgiving. 

“For what?” 

“For not recognizing you. It’s just that in all my time at the Temple, I don’t believe we ever met.” 

At that, the Lurman grinned, showing her tiny sharp teeth. “Even before the war I found the Temple a little boring,” she said. “Though, if I’d heard your story before a few days ago, I might’ve stopped by to meet you.”

“Er, why?” Now it was Sol’s turn to be uncertain.

“Not every day the Order finds a person of some Force sensitivity who slipped their notice as a youngling.” 

“I’m not very sensitive, General. Just enough they thought to let me try and guard the Temple. As you can see, that didn’t work out.” 

Tammeth raised a bushy little brow. “Perhaps it’s better we’ve met now, then.” This was the only somewhat vague statement the Jedi had made thus far, which was in and of itself unusual, so Sol didn’t pry lest she unearth more of them. They were coming up on the rest of the 45th Battalion anyway, white and forest-green armor filling in gaps between the ferns and tree branches ahead. She led them around the edge towards the fore of the group. 

“Commander Basher!” Tammeth called when she saw a clone with a rank pauldron. “Look who I’ve found!” 

“I see, sir,” Basher replied, clearly amused. “How was the trek, Cronos?” 

“Coulda been worse,” Grip replied cheerfully. “We made decent time.”

“Aye, I believe that. This planet is…” Clearly the commander was struggling to find a word that wasn’t rude. 

“Awful?” Twofer supplied.

“Well, yeah.” Basher shrugged. “No other way to put it. Everything about this mudball makes combat that much more difficult.” 

“How did recce go?” Sol asked. 

“You must be Sergeant Tannor,” Basher replied. “It went alright, despite some minor difficulties with a slime mold that grows on the rocks near the camp.” Swift shuddered and mostly suppressed a gurgling, disgusted noise. “Looks like the Seps have a camp set up that’s pretty much just a maintenance shop for droid ranks. When they get new ones, they have to take extra care of them or else they’ll rust before they even leave base.”

“Sounds about right,” muttered Swift. Behind him, BD-9 made a nervous little whistle. 

“You’ll be alright, buddy,” Grip assured the droid. “I have extra joint oil for you, and the paint job helps.” 

“What sort of structures do they have?” Stone asked as Tammeth sniffed his helmet casually. 

Basher plucked a little holoprojector from a pouch on his utility belt to summon a map of the base they’d managed to create from long-distance scans. “They’re all tents. Not even a duraplast hut. We figure there’s only a few organics there to maintain the clankers, and instead of salvaging parts from battlefields they just get a constant influx of new ones. Though, not as frequently as they might like, seeing as they don’t engage openly here more.” 

“Energy shield?” Sol asked.

“Oh yeah. That’ll be the first thing you’ll have to take out before you can get inside,” Basher nodded. 

“If we disable it entirely they’ll know we’re here,” Grip said, and Sol could almost hear his frown under his helmet.

“That’s where my men come in,” General Tammeth interjected. “We’ll be engaging them while your squad infiltrates.” 

“At the base?” Sol asked. “Won’t you be up against all the droids they have waiting for deployment?” 

“They’re sending out more than half the current stock this afternoon, from what we can tell. Of course, the local boys know that now, so they’ll be waiting for them,” Basher replied with an audible grin. “But if we strike just after, we stand an extremely decent chance of taking the whole thing down.”

“Did you find where the central computer was?” asked Twofer as he watched the map spin slowly. 

“‘Fraid not, though we have reason to believe it’s proximal to the primary repair station. There’s not a whole lot there, to be honest, so you might not have to look too hard.” 

“I still think you should engage them outside of the base and let us slip in while the energy dome’s up to let the droids through,” Sol said, glancing at Stone through her HUD. His concerns about the safety of the Rimsoo and the MedStar 19 that hung in orbit were on her mind as well. It was one thing for an extremely adept commando squad to infiltrate a base; if they did their jobs correctly, the loss of the central computer would look like an accident. But if a battalion led by a Jedi General attacked the base outright, all bets were off regarding the sanctity of medical care on the battlefield. The rules of engagement would be lost.

“The trouble is,” Tammeth said to her, “That there’s at least some bota at the base. Processed already and everything. We don’t know how it got there, or why it’s there, but the Republic’s orders regarding its preservation and retrieval are strict. You can’t use an explosive to neutralize the command center unless the bota’s well clear of the blast.”

Twofer growled. “Kriff the whole thing. Sorry, sir,” he added hastily to Tammeth, who only gave a faint chuckle. 

“I know, it’s frustrating. But you’ll need the cover we can give you. Even if there’s nothing but security posted at the base by the time you’re in there, you have to take out all of it pretty tightly to protect the bota. And if we’re too far away, we can’t help you if you need it. There’ll be both swamp and an energy field in the way.” 

“We’re used to being on our own, sir,” Stone said to her. “You don’t have to sacrifice anything to protect us.” 

“Tall and sweet,” Tammeth murmured, her big eyes glimmering. “But it’s alright, trooper. My men are prepared, and so am I. We’ll keep ourselves outside the perimeter at least at first. They’ll panic and send the droids out once you take out the energy field anyway.” 

“Here’s at least three generators you could hit,” Basher said, and three red arrows blinked along the outer limits of the map. “They’re the only ones that have a part outside of the dome. Can’t believe they were that cheap, t’ be honest. Even an inch of metal outside the energy field put the whole thing at risk. You’re lucky.”

“Right,” murmured Grip, tapping his booted foot on the sodden ground. That meant he was already thinking about how to use a swamp towards their efforts. Twofer was tapping his gloved fingers on his thigh plate, which meant he was trying to decide what would break the generator without causing a massive chain reaction, and be able to squeeze into the smallest possible opening. Stone was still, Tammeth still content on his shoulder, and Swift had his hands on his hips. He looked at the commander. 

“Well, I assume we’re waiting on the signal to move in once the clankers are sent out?” the squad’s sniper asked, canting his head.

“Affirmative,” replied Basher. 

“How soon can we scout ahead and pick our point of entry?” 

“Uh, sir?” The commander was deferring to his CO. Tammeth stroked her fluffy chin. 

“As soon as you’re ready, I think. Oh, and one more thing. I’m coming with you.” She grinned. “I think I can help you get inside, then reconvene with my men on the battlefield.” 

“Vor’e, General,” Sol said to the pocket-sized primate with a nod, already thinking about how being that small could be extremely useful. “If that’s what you think is best, we appreciate your assistance.”

“Of course. May as well depart now, then, if you’re all agreed.” Tammeth chittered and scurried around Stone’s back to his other shoulder to peer ahead into the trees. “I think I can hear them marching out now, actually. Don’t get too comfy waiting on that signal, Basher.”

“Yessir,” the clone said. “I’ll move the nap I was planning to take after this off my schedule.” 

The commandos snorted, and the general just gave her high little laugh before looking over at Stone’s helmet. “Right, then. Let’s go, big boy!” 

Chapter Text

Drongar, north of Bota field Matrix A, Separatist base 

Perched in a tree at the edge of the wooded area that surrounded the gray plastoid tents, Swift eyed the generator through electrobinoculars. He gripped his Trandoshan Deadeye sniper rifle, which Twofer had modded for him with a sight that was connected to his HUD as well as a laser pointer and a repeater mod on the Heter valve inside. He was going to need all the skill the weapons specialist had poured into that gun, just as much as all the skill that had been trained into his body.

“The exposed area’s about a meter long and ten centimeters at the widest,” he said over the comm. “That’s just barely wide enough for a bolt to miss the energy field. You’d think they’d designed it that way on purpose.” 

“Too bad the metal slugs don’t do much against durasteel,” Twofer mused from his cover below. “I’d like to see you aim one of those.” 

“Sarge, can you believe they use those all the time down here?” Grip asked. “I never in my life thought I’d see a bullet wound, and after Talasea I figured I’d seen the only one I ever would.” 

“I’d rather hoped never to get shot by one again, myself,” replied Sol dryly.

“Luckily, the clankers don’t have them,” said the medic. "So they're not getting shot at us."

“If you aim one just right, they seem to take out droids pretty neatly. Without all the shrapnel,” General Tammeth said from her much higher perch in the trees, through a commlink that was attached to her harness. “If it could pierce the generator chassis, it’d be a lot safer to shoot than a blaster.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that,” Swift muttered, tense. He shifted from the branch he was on to stand and lean against a higher one, resting the barrel of the Deadeye on it carefully. “But this is a lot better than trying to go down there and poke a hole in the thing to stick a thermal detonator inside. No cover at all.”

“I was hoping I could rig some hot tape,” sighed Twofer. “Good thing you’ve got the best sniper rifle in the GAR.” 

“Thanks to you, vod.” There was a little lift in Swift’s voice just then, as he began to line up the rifle with the strip of grimy, painted durasteel that just barely emerged from the orange glimmer that encased the base. 

It felt like an age that he hung there, making the most minute adjustments to the direction of his blaster’s nose and the way he held it in his hands. Then he was stark still, and the entire squad held its breath. 

When the blue bolt flew home, the generator began to sputter electricity and the shield flickered. But it didn’t go out just yet, trying desperately to reinstate itself wholly. 

“One more, vod,” muttered Twofer through clenched teeth. “You got it.”

Swift was utterly silent as he took aim again; when the second shot fired, Sol thought she could feel a strange buckling of the air around it, guiding it home to almost precisely the same spot at its predecessor. She glanced through her HUD up at the obstructed figure of Tammeth, who was scampering down from her high position. 

“Well done, trooper!” the Jedi called. She swatted her comm badge with her clawed hand. “Commander Basher, make sure those boys are on their tiptoes, ‘cuz there’s about to be a wall of metal coming your way.”

“Yes sir!” came the fuzzy reply. 

“We got about five hundred meters of no cover before we break the perimeter,” Stone said. “We’ll just have to run, and hope they’re too busy marching out droids to notice us.”

“Oh, I might be able to help with that,” Tammeth purred as she took her spot on the big clone’s armored shoulder. “I am a Jedi, after all.”

“I keep forgetting we have a Jedi with us, this mission. Usually on stealth we don’t,” Grip said. “Nice to be reminded, though.” 

“I’m sure you don’t really need one, but it can’t hurt.” Tammeth was looking out from under the trees, watching as a clot of perfectly aligned droids started to march out of the biggest tent on the base. “Looks like we’ll be dashing here in just a moment. Look alive, humanoids! We’ve got computers to slice and bota to liberate!” 

“Did you find out how much bota, exactly?” asked Sol.

“At least fifty kilos.”

“Jango’s bones,” swore Swift in a hushed whisper. “I hope there’s a kriffing repulsorlift platform down there.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Tammeth said cheerfully. “Now, who’s ready for a five-hundred-meter dash?”

The squad careened through the purple grass that was bobbing in the wind, but no blaster fire or any other sort of munition made its way towards them. However many people or droids there were to mind the base, they must’ve all been quite preoccupied with the 45th. 

Crossing the perimeter of the extinguished energy dome, five suits of gray and red armor split up as they’d planned. Grip and BD-9 made straight for the main tent with Stone and Tammeth behind them. Twofer was going towards a tent at the rear of the base that was likely to be a dwelling for someone, Swift to another shop tent, and Sol to a tent that was nestled in the heart of the base. Fan out, find the computer and hack it, find the bota and move it, and neutralize any and all security or administration that might remain whether droid or organic. Easier said than done, but Cronos Squad was more than used to that.

Sol slowed her footsteps as she drew nigh to the tent that was her target, creeping up close to the entrance which was a flap that was, at least presently, closed but not secured. She held her blaster close to her chest with both hands, slowly pointing it towards the slit in the plastoid. The wind was blowing gently from the south, and in the distance a peal of thunder shook through the air.

She paused when she heard the sound of blaster fire and the distinct hum of a lightsaber nearby; there must’ve been someone or something inside the main tent. Her heart was beating just as slow and calm as you please, her mind scanning every sound around her and waiting for the crackle of any voice over the comm. Focusing back on her own task, she leaned around to try and peer into the tent.

Inside, between the flaps of the opening, she saw an array of supplies— mostly preserved food, she realized, as well as basic medical supplies. 

“Vode, at least one organic is here,” she murmured into the private channel, keeping her external speakers quieted.

“Heard,” replied Twofer in her ear. “There’s nobody home, but this is definitely their spot back here.”

“Not in here!” came a much louder voice, Grip’s, accompanied by the sounds of blasters in the background. “We’ve got their command droid, Sarge!” 

“Twof, get to the main tent!” Sol barked. She almost didn’t hear his affirmative response, peering back into the supply tent (which was evidently what she’d found) to see if anything else there needed her attention. There was nobody inside, she figured, but she entered blaster-first anyway. 

Other than the food and meds, there were boxes full of metal bolts and other bulk electronic components, a large amount of unopened buckets of paint, and a single unmarked crate. When she crept over to it, she saw that the lid was shut but the lock was still blinking a little green light. Pressing the button on it, air hissed out of the pressure valves and the lid swung upward. Inside were dozens of little vials of opaque black plastoid cases, each equipped with an injectable disbursement lever. 

Bota. 

She stared down at it, strangely… captivated. It wasn’t interesting at first glance, but perhaps something about its legendary status as a prized, expensive drug that would heal, sedate, stimulate, or even psychically alter its user depending on their species was what made her so compelled to reach inside and pull out a single vial to peer at it in the faint light coming in from the clear part of the tent wall. The storm they’d heard earlier was coming up fast, casting the landscape in a growing shadow. But even in that ominous shade she could see its pale, translucent color— colors, even, since as she turned it, it went from purple to green to deep blue to orange. She didn’t know if it was gas or liquid or spores or what, but it was strangely beautiful.

“Sarge!” came a voice over the comm. It was Stone, but he sounded less winded than Grip had a few moments before. “We’re guarding the big tent here, and Grip’s got Beedee working on the main hub but it’s taking awhile. We need a perimeter.”

“Suvar,” she replied, shaken from her momentary distraction. “It’s a lot less than fifty kilos, but I’ve found the bota. Swift, come in! Where are you?” 

When her sniper didn’t reply, Sol’s brow furrowed under her helmet. 

“I said come in, vod!” 

Still, no response. Snarling, Sol pocketed the one vial of bota in her hand and shut the crate again without locking it, darting out of the supply tent towards Swift’s position. With the same care she’d taken before, she crept up on the open flap of the shop tent. As raindrops began to hammer her helmet, she peered inside with her blaster in-hand. 

The darkness was just shy of triggering her HUD’s nightvision. But the life sign scanner hovered an alert, blinking rapidly, over a crumpled body at the other end. Nothing else inside was apparently alive enough to trigger it, so she ran over to the figure on the cracked block of ferrocrete that was the floor of the tents. 

“Swift!” she heard herself almost shriek when she got close enough to see his armor and the rifle strapped to his back. One of his sidearms was on the floor, the other missing entirely. The blinking alert inside her helmet meant that his life signs were critical, and her heart was suddenly beating in time with its frantic pace. Fear wrapped around her, pulling fury in on its heels. She turned his body over as she knelt beside it, looking for whatever wound had caused this. There was blood oozing out from between his chest plate and the middle-torso wrap beneath it, running in the creases between the panels of plasteel there. Somehow, someone had slid a blade between them into his guts, and he was fading fast. 

Panic gripped her; who had found him, and how could they have gotten that close, been that precise with their strike? This was nothing that bacta would fix, not in time to keep him from bleeding out. She opened her first aid pouch and rifled through it with shaking hands, looking for a strip of medical adhesive to act as a suture. But for some reason there were none there; when she searched Swift’s pouch he didn’t have them either. There was no way Grip would get here in time, she thought. But, the bota—

Suddenly she felt an acute presence, and spun around to meet it. Before she could pull the trigger on her Deece, though, a powerful kick knocked it out of her hand. Another strike landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. That didn’t stop her from kicking a leg out behind her to sweep her attacker off their feet. 

When a body thudded to the ground, she pivoted with a gasp to plunge her left elbow into the torso she could vaguely make out now. But a huge hand with a steel grip caught it, twisting so brutally that she almost heard her shoulder joint simply turn loose of the rest of her arm. Pain screamed through her body, but she was too breathless to make a sound as her arm hung behind her at an unnatural angle. She could feel the bone pressing against the muscles and nerves that ran across her chest below her collar bone, pressing them into the hard material of her pauldron. One more profound thud against her back pushed her face down against the ferrocrete, and thunder that was pitched high with the sear of lightning split the air above them. 

Just as she was gasping to get her breath back and starting to feel like she was drowning for lack of it, her whole body tried in vain to arch forward as something hot and sharp slid up under her chest plate just the same way it had Swift’s, but in the back this time. It slipped between her ribs— one of them was dislocated again, too— to punch through the wall of her left lung. She almost felt nothing, now, so bereft of oxygen and so overwhelmed with adrenaline. Falling limp beneath whoever was pinning her down, she didn’t realize the knife was gone until she heard the faint thunk thunk thunk of spacer boots. 

Her assailant was walking out of the tent, leaving her and her vod there to bleed to death. Every gasp was pushing more and more blood out of her, but she sucked in enough rattling breaths to slowly, painfully reach her right hand into the pouch on her waist. Pulling out the vial of bota, she reached over to Swift’s body. Her HUD’s alert was reaching its crescendo, so she pressed the vial against his gloved hand and pressed the release.

Then her strength left her, and she fell utterly still as the vial clattered to the floor and she let her hand rest on his. She expected she’d be long gone by the time he was revived, of course. So, when he began to cough and move almost immediately, somewhere in the increasingly dense fog of her mind she was surprised. 

“Sol? SOL!” It was the clone’s turn to panic, to kneel by her and stare in horror at the blood that was draining from her back into a black pool on the floor. “SOL!” 

“Bota… in my... tent,” she groaned on slow and strained exhales. “Help… them...” 

“Vod’ika,” Swift said, his voice breaking inside his helmet, “did you say bota?”

“Bota…” But Sol would’ve frowned if she could move her face muscles, then. Was her last word to be the name of some plant? “Swift,” she whispered, grateful that her comm would pick up even that. “Kar’taylir... vod… vor… entye…”

“No! No, you stay alive, damn you!” And he sprang to his feet and dashed away at an incredible pace, leaving her alone on the floor. 

She wasn’t offended, of course. She rather hoped he was going to kill the hut’uun who’d stabbed her in the back, and protect the rest of the squad. Their faces swam before her, soothing the beating of her heart profoundly. Gratitude washed over her, and though her body was starting to get cold, she felt some strange inner warmth. Her family, her brothers who loved and protected her. Who scolded her when she hid her pain and pushed her past her fears. 

Then Rex’s face followed them, and that brought her a pang of sadness, or perhaps bittersweetness. Even though she wished she’d been able to see him— no. She wished she’d let him see her. Naked, body and soul. She wished she’d had the strength, the bravery to trust him with that. But even just the sliver of protection and friendship he’d given her bathed her in its light, too, and his sweet smile and the amber glow of his eyes filled her darkening eyes with tears. Perhaps he loved her as much as she loved him, she thought. Because she did love him, didn’t she? What a shame, she thought, she’d been too frightened to do anything about it. She wondered if she could whisper it into his ear through the Force somehow, however far away Umbara was and however weak her affinity with that ineffable power remained. But she could no longer move at all, not even to whisper. 

Before she faded entirely, she felt huge, familiar arms wrap around her. Warm, damp air struck her face as someone removed her helmet and held her close enough to bury a broad nose into her cheek, and she felt a trickle of blood running down her chin from her mouth. 

“Come back, littl’un,” came a low voice in her ear, and she felt tears not her own on her face. “Please.” Something pressed gently into her hand, and made a faint hissing sound. An instant, icy chill leapt into her veins as she fell at last into darkness. 

And then, to her utmost shock, she could see the entirety of the universe.

Chapter Text

Outside of Space and Time

The Resol’nare, the creed of the Mando’ade, had never held much glamour for Sol. Even her father who’d grown up within it, and her mother who’d sworn herself to it, had never made much fuss about it that she could remember. There was a great oversoul, manda they called it, but it was a footnote behind the fealty that was demanded. What happened after death was not much dwelt upon, since it was within every Mando’s acute awareness that they would, one day, find out for themselves.

If this was what happened after death, though, then Sol struggled to fathom why anybody ever lived in the first place. The veil was lifted; everything in the great web of creation was laid bare before her, every flare of a sun and every bug on a leaf and every scar on the face of every planet in the galaxy. Just beyond it was more of the same, every other galaxy like a slightly off pattern of the one she knew best. She was no longer a small part of its boundlessness. She simply was it, an omnipresent and limitless power that strung its iron thread between every single living thing. 

It was exhilarating, and terrible, and wholly beyond her comprehension. With sudden clarity she saw the less than microscopic place she’d once had in the universe. In fact, she saw it where it had ended, or at least her awareness of it had. There was someone— a mercenary, a criminal who wasn’t supposed to be there at all, slinking around the Separatist base on Drongar. They had nearly murdered Swift, and were absolutely planning to do the same to every other member of her squad if the commandos didn’t find them first. Their ship was nearby. More Seps would be returning. 

The future sprawled itself out before her then, and she watched what felt like an endless parade of clones die in the swampy lowlands, at the outskirts of bota fields. Clones who could have been saved by the bota, but were denied access to it. A black vein of corruption flowed out of the unassuming little plant, branching all over the galaxy into the Outer Rim on the heels of the Black Sun, into the heart of Separatist territory; one final, lonesome thread made its way towards the Inner Rim, then past it to the Core, landing on Coruscant, crawling through the death at the feet of its permacrete and durasteel jungle and rising, seeping through air traffic all the way to the rounded dome of the senate building. She saw it, saw the pattern of the repulsorlift seats, the drawn and serious faces of the senators; she felt their petty and sharp little fears and desires jostling against one another. At the heart of the chamber, Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine rose to address the Republic Senate. 

With a gasp, Sol was thrown back into her body. Her mind was flooded with something she didn’t know, something she’d never felt before. An awareness so intense that it let her see far beyond the limits she’d once known, but not enough to make the patterns that lay there clear to her. All she knew for certain was that something terrible was growing and its root was here, on this planet. It was in her very veins. 

The bota. 

A voice was calling her from far away, a low voice full of sorrow. But she couldn’t, not yet, not until she did something, anything to staunch the flow of death from this place. She felt her body against the hard surface of the floor, then sank beneath it into the grit of the earth. 

There were cracks, she realized. Not physical cracks in the surface, but cracks in the very spirit of the planet. Beneath the crude matter, the web was fractured in fine, tiny lines. Catching one, she traced it all the way out into the jungle, the swamp, the fields. 

The bota fields were full of cracks, the energy that seemed to be concentrated in its roots pulsing with life but with a gossamer pattern of rifts everywhere. It was like seeing a mangled tapestry, or a shattered window pane. 

And, clear as the darkness that bled from it, she found the centrifuge. A weakness in the bota’s essence. All she had to do was reach out and touch it…

“Sol!” A voice, much louder and closer now, seemed to yank her out of the collapsing place she’d been in. There was a gloved hand on her face, a strong arm under her body where it lay slumped in someone’s lap. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Stone?” she murmured, as though waking from sleep. “What happened?” 

“Vod’ika,” he said, and even though he smiled she saw tears on his face. “You’re alive! Who did this to you?” 

“Did what?” She blinked, but then she remembered. Without thinking, she moved her arm to touch her back— and realized that her left arm was not dislocated almost beyond repair, that her ribs were all in place, and there was dry blood on her armor but she was no longer bleeding. She felt not just fine, but well rested. She could breathe.  

“Oh,” she sighed. “I... didn’t see who it was. Where are the others?” 

“Grip’s almost done slicing the central computer,” Stone said. “Swift told us what happened, mostly.” 

“Are the Seps all dead?” 

“Except whoever it was who tried to kill you and Swift, yes.” 

“They nearly succeeded,” she muttered, frowning. “Let’s get back to Grip.”

“You sure?” But even as he asked, she was hauling herself out of his lap, reaching down to pick up her helmet and then to offer him her hand. “Looks like that stuff’s worth the credits,” he added, taking her hand to stand himself. 

“Mm.” She couldn’t think of what to say, in light of whatever she’d just done. Somehow, though, she knew the bota wouldn’t be worth the credits for long. 

The two commandos replaced their helmets and jogged back out into the torrential rain towards the main tent. Inside it, Grip and BD-9 were bent over the primary control panel of the massive computer they were trying to disable. General Tammeth was shuffling around the place, eyeing the buttons and sniffing whatever she came across. 

“Sergeant!” she called when she saw Sol enter. “Are you alright?”

“I am now,” Sol replied. “Did you ever find the organic who was here?” 

“No,” the Jedi replied, shaking her head. “Just a lot of guard droids, and the commander.” She canted her head towards a pile of durasteel that lay in pieces on the floor. “I assume the organic found you and your comrade, though.”

“They were organic, or moved like they were. I didn’t see them clearly, though. Also, I don’t think they’re a Sep.”

“What makes you say that?” The Lurman was eyeing her again, curiously this time. 

“It’s just a feeling. I could be wrong.”

“You know, in my line of work feelings tend to be more than just feelings.”

“The Force?” Sol raised a brow under her bucket, but it dawned on her that whatever she’d experienced just now, the likelihood that it had something to do with the Force was immense. “Maybe.” 

But it had been unlike any feeling of the Force she’d ever had before, almost incomparable even. Tammeth was looking even harder at her now, and she knew that the Jedi sensed something. 

“The rest of the bota is missing, you say?” she asked.

“Yes. Only the crate in the supply tent is there. I think the person who found me and Swift is the person who took the rest. I don’t think they’re supposed to be here.” 

“Mmmhm,” hummed Tammeth thoughtfully. “You healed your teammate with some of it, right?” 

“Yes.”

“I healed Sarge with some as well,” Stone said. 

“I see it works.” Tammeth raised a brow, and grinned a little. 

“It really does,” Sol murmured. If she’d been injected with the bota just before she’d somehow been able to perceive the entire kriffing universe… 

“Well, I won’t tell the Republic if you won’t,” Tammeth replied with a shrug. “Technically, using the bota on a soldier is a crime. Technically, I don’t give a shit, though.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stone said, and Sol could hear him smiling. “They’d both be dead without it.” 

“Sarge, you with us?” came Swift’s voice over the comm.

“Yes, vod, I’m here,” Sol replied, smiling. “Glad you are, too.” 

“That asshole who got me, have you seen her?” 

“No, did you get a look?” 

“Yeah. She’s Falleen. Tall, long black hair. She’s lurking around here somewhere and we need to take her out before she gets away.” 

“You want to bet she’s the one who killed the organic who was here?” Twofer asked over the comm. 

“That seems likely enough.” Sol felt in her gut that this Falleen woman wasn’t just a thug. She was an elite sort of thug, a black market mercenary and assassin. How else could she have taken out two commandos like she did?

“Wait a moment.” Tammeth was looking up at the ceiling of the tent as though she could see through it, her massive ears perked. “You hear that?” 

Sure enough, between the constant low roar of thunder, another thrumming sound was coming from on high. 

“It’s a ship,” the Jedi said. “Possibly our stabber’s ride, you think? Picking up their last little box of goods?” 

“Aye, General,” growled Swift. “I can see it now. It’s landing west outside the dome.” 

“How much longer you got on this sucker, Grip?” Tammeth asked the medic who was crouched by the computer still.

“At least another hour. It’s dense, this code,” he lamented. “I’m sorry, vode, that I’m not more use—”

“Ne’johaa,” Sol said a little sharply. “You’re doing the most important job of us all, vod. You stay right here and let us deal with this hut’uun. Twofer,” and her voice took on a slightly feral edge, “you want to go for target practice?” 

“Thought you’d never ask, Sarge,” Twofer replied. Sol ducked out of the main tent to the weapons specialist’s position, and they made their way slowly towards the freshly parked spaceship. 

“I’m behind, covering you,” Swift said over the comm. “Hanging back a little.” 

“Jate.” Sol could feel herself getting angry again, the kind of anger she remembered from Talasea, and from Lysatra years before. She drew the lightsaber staff off her back, gripping it with white knuckles in case she needed to deflect fire. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus. 

The anger was smooth, this time, not bulging against her strained patience. It was low and predatory, ready to push her past the limits of her aching body (the bota had healed her wounds, but evidently could do nothing for the lack of connective tissue she lived with). She peered around a tent corner, then signaled for Twofer to follow her. 

As she’d predicted, she felt the bolt of plasma before she needed to see it. Just as quick, the staff sprang to life and she deflected the shot. Ahead, around behind that generator, she thought. It was like she could see through the durasteel. 

“Come out.” She said it like she was giving an order, calm and confident. No reply came. 

“I think she’s shy, Sarge,” Twofer said wryly. 

“Is that what they call cowards these days?” She deflected another blast, saw the end of the Falleen’s ponytail disappear back behind the generator. “I said come out, hut’uun. You owe me.” 

“Owe you what?” called a sneering voice. It didn’t seem fearful enough yet, Sol thought.

“Your life.” 

“You some kinda Mandalorian merc selling out to the Republic?” Ah, she knew the Mando’a word for coward, at least.

“No.”

“Sure sound like one. Maybe you and me got more in common than you think.” 

Sol growled. “I am a soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic. You’re backwater trash, stealing medicine to sell to junkies. We are not the same, you and I.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Twofer clucked. “We know you don’t have any buddies coming to help you. Whoever’s flying your getaway shuttle clearly refused to come out, or we’d be arguing with them by now, too.” 

“Sure, but if I don’t get that bota back to the boss in the exact amount he ordered, I’m dead meat then, too. You see my problem, here?” Her voice was steady, still, and Sol was beginning to scan around them for whatever was making her so confident. “Why don’t you just let me take my goods and go? I won’t even try to kill you again.”

“You’ll be two vials short anyway,” Sol said. “So why not skip the trouble?” 

“What?” Now she was hissing, angry, and some unintelligible swear followed it. “You took my kriffing bota?” 

“Only ‘cuz you tried to kill two of us,” Twofer said. He had a sonic detonator in his hand, Sol saw, which he was turning slowly as he calculated just how far to throw it so it might land neatly behind the generator. Knock her out, but leave her alive for questioning.

“You Republic sleemos!” Now she snarled, and stepped out from behind the generator with her blaster in her hand and aimed right at Sol. “You think Ziton won’t come after you for this? Even if he does kill me?” 

“Ziton Moj?” Sol asked, bristling. “Since when is that di’kut in charge?” 

“Since old man Grunseit let the Shadow Collective walk in and murder him,” the Falleen replied. 

“Shadow Collective?” 

“Haven’t you heard, Mando? The Sith are in charge now.” She didn’t seem enthused about this. Sol blinked, more and more confused with each statement the Falleen woman issued.

“The Sith?”

“That’s what they call themselves.”

“Then they’re fools,” Sol said flatly. “There are no Sith.” Even as she said it, the vision of a black vein running across the galaxy flashed in her head. 

“What the kriff do you care?” the woman snapped, glaring at her. “You gonna go tell them to stop doing crime, too? So you can all fight with your kriffing laser swords? Let me take my bota and go. Ziton’s gonna find you either way.” 

“Sorry, hun. You’re out of luck on this one.” Twofer was pocketing the detonator, pointing his Deece calmly at her. She shifted the nose of her own blaster towards him, then shrugged. 

“Fine. Have it your way.” And she chucked her weapon over to the clone.

Sol felt everything bunch around them, and shouted to her teammate as if she could stop it somehow. But the blaster was in his hands as he caught it; there was no time for him to react. Time seemed to slow as she reached out towards him, trying desperately to send the gun flying straight up into the air.

It made it about four meters before it exploded.

Everything went white for a moment, and the sound dampeners in her helmet muted the blast. Smoke was everywhere, and Sol somehow managed to stay standing as a piece of shrapnel from the blaster lodged itself into her shoulder pauldron. Another, smaller piece lacerated her gloved hand, but she didn’t even notice. Twofer’s body, armor covered in scorchmarks, had landed on the ground not far away, flung by the force of the blast. 

Absolute fury sprang into Sol’s throat as she spun on her heel and reached out through the air, through its very essence, and took the Falleen by the throat. For the first time, she recognized the Force flowing through her, corroding her insides as it fed on her hate. The hate wasn’t just limited to the injuries of her vode, anymore. The vile men who led the Black Sun had been invoked, and with them an old wound had opened— several, in fact. Her bloodied hand was like a claw, and the mercenary was clutching desperately at her throat as though to pull away an invisible presence that closed off her breath. She made desperate little sucking noises, shaking, her eyes starting to bulge in her green-scaled face. 

Sol ripped her helmet off, hungry to watch the light leave her opponent’s eyes. With a sudden burst of power, the Falleen flew through the air until her throat was in Sol’s actual hand, feet dragging along the ground. But it was too late for her to take much note of it, for her flight had also impaled her against one end of the saber staff still gripped in Sol’s other hand. Sol noticed suddenly that the blade had changed, shifting from yellow to an orange hue. But that was filed away quickly, overwhelmed by what she was compelled by her anger to do.

“Ne shab'rud'ni, epabaar,” she hissed, watching her own blood run bright red against the woman’s scaly neck. “I am much better at killing than Ziton Moj. Be grateful it was me, and not that clumsy di’kut, who collected their debt first.” 

The reptilian had been struggling, but now with the saber cauterizing a hole in her heart she was stiff as darkness fell over her face. When she finally went slack, Sol dropped her body in a heap on the ground. Then she shut off her staff and sprinted over to Twofer.

“No, no, not you too, not today, vod, please,” she burbled, tears coming to her eyes as she knelt by him. He was unconscious, barely breathing, and his skin was burned badly everywhere there was an opening between the plates of his armor. She looked down to see that one of his arms was actually gone, severed from the rest of him in the blast and laying a few meters away. Her heart froze, and fear rose up inside her.

“Sarge, it’s done! The computer’s dead!” came Grip’s voice over her wrist comm. Swallowing hard, she slapped the receiver on her vambrace. 

“I need a medic now!” she almost sobbed. “Twofer needs to get back to the Rimsoo!”

“Shit,” Grip said, his tone taking a hard u-turn. “Shit! What happened?” 

“Sergeant, a medical shuttle’s already on the way,” came Tammeth’s voice. “I called one for my men, we’ll get your Twofer on it.” 

“I’m on the way!” Grip would be better suited to this, even though she knew very well that nothing more than basic care could be done until her vod was in surgery. The bile in her throat was a clot of shame, guilt, burning anger, sorrow, fear. She put her hand on his helmet, watched her tears fall onto it and smear the streaks of carbonization. 

“Hang on, vod,” she murmured, not touching him anywhere else, not sure she would do anything but make his pain worse if she did. “K’oyacyi, you hear me? That’s a direct order!”

All around her, she felt the Force. The bota had done something, she knew it. She prayed to whatever god would listen that it was temporary. She never wanted to feel the Force again, never wanted to fatten it with her worst memories or let it help her drive deeper into her own wounds again. Whatever she’d done with its overwhelming strength, whatever she’d broken inside the bota itself that was growing on the planet, she hoped no one would ever become more powerful with the Force from it again. 

She almost didn’t hear her squad approaching, the Jedi general with them. But then it was a flurry of activity, the distant whir of a repulsor engine, and the tiny little Lurman woman was on her shoulder. 

“Come, Sergeant,” she said gently. “You need first aid, too.” 

“I’m fine,” murmured Sol almost inaudibly.

“All the same. The shuttle’s here. Let your medic see to your hand, and we’ll let these men save your teammate.” Her tone was firm, commanding. Sol nodded, and realized that Swift was walking over with her discarded helmet in his hands. 

“You alright, Sol’ika ?” he asked. 

“Need to see Grip.” She held up her bleeding hand, still totally unable to feel it.

“That’s my girl,” Tammeth said. “I’m going to see to my own men. We’ll find each other back at the Rimsoo.” And she leapt to the ground, scampering towards the shuttle just as the gurney bearing Twofer’s mangled, unconscious body on it was raised inside the hatch with Stone’s help.

“Come on, vod’ika,” Swift said, reaching up to put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re gonna help him.”

She just stared back at her brother, golden eyes laden with tears. Her guts were tied in knots, and the pulsing awareness of everything around her was starting to get overwhelming. Swift tugged her gently forward, leading her back towards where Grip sat on the ground with his med kit, helmeted head in his hands. 

Chapter Text

Drongar, near the Quarohan Steppes, Republic Military Surgical Unit 7

Inside the Operation Theater, the waiting area was a long, dark hallway of plastoid fabric dotted with little lamps. Sol was sitting on the ferrocrete floor with her head in her hands, the weight of that day’s battle hanging from her shoulders like chains. Her world was suddenly quite a bit larger than it had ever been, and her glimpse of the cosmos left her disoriented to say the least. 

On top of that, Twofer was in surgery. The rest of the squad were fast asleep in the barracks, grabbing the precious few hours they had to rest before they either received orders to depart or something else happened, she knew not what. Grip was mostly unscathed but for a shrapnel wound to his right thigh, Stone healing a bruised rib, Swift in incredible shape after his healing via the bota. She’d all but ordered him to rest anyway, promising news of Twofer’s progress; then she’d come to the empty passage outside the OT to be alone, and to wait. She hadn’t even taken off her armor, just left her helmet on her cot.

But it seemed that her isolation was to be fleeting, that day. She heard the pattering feet of General Tammeth coming down the hall towards her, and didn’t look up or greet the Jedi when she approached. 

“Alright, shorty. I know this is a hard time for you, but eat this, would ya?” The Lurman woman was offering her a single cube of dry rations as she sat down on the floor beside her. Sol looked sidelong at it, her appetite long gone. But she reached out and took it anyway, knowing that the general had a point. “There we go. I didn't bother with real food. I wasn’t even hungry for that, after today,” Tammeth said with a sigh. “Which is a pity, because the chow hall here isn’t bad at all.”

“Vor’e, Master Tammeth,” Sol said quietly, taking a bite of the cube. It was flavorless, textureless somehow, but it went down fast in spite of the resistance in her throat. 

“That Mando’a, you’re always speaking?”

“Yes.” 

“I see.” She seemed to ponder this a moment, stroking her fluffy chin, but must have thought better of inquiring further. “Any word on your man?” 

“Nothing yet.”

“I’m sure they’re taking good care of him.” The Jedi was trying to be reassuring, but as per usual nothing but the sight of her vod walking and talking would alleviate the knot in Sol’s gut. “I can tell you’re feeling responsible, young one. And as their sergeant, you should, to some degree. Just as I feel the same as a general. But there is too much guilt on you, more than you deserve.” 

Sol didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t sure how much guilt was too much, how to weigh such a burden or what against. Her father’s ghost was always behind her in these moments, the guilt of his broken body far below the cliff on Lysarta never quite left behind. 

“Will you humor me, and tell me what happened out there?” Tammeth asked. The directness of the question was unlike a Jedi. That in and of itself tempted Sol to answer at least with something; she knew she couldn’t explain everything even if she wanted to.

“I was stabbed in the back by the Falleen woman. I’d taken a vial of bota from the crate, as proof, but Swift was already dying. He’d been stabbed in the stomach by her. I don’t know how she was so stealthy. I’ve never been ambushed like that before.” Sol frowned, feeling shame on her cheeks. 

“Perhaps the sight of your wounded teammate took all of your attention,” Tammeth offered. “That seems quite reasonable.” 

“Maybe. Either way, she left me for dead and I had just enough strength to give the vial to Swift. It worked… fast. Amazingly fast. He must’ve gotten up in time to get help, because I was fading. When I woke up again, Stone was with me. He’d healed me, too. Almost too late.” 

“Ah, yes, I heard all that. But what about between when you healed Swift and then were healed yourself?” She was raising an eyebrow again. “It’s not every day I feel a ripple in the Force like that.” 

Sol knew the Jedi could detect her sudden tension, the aversion she had to speaking of it. The confusion she felt about how to describe it, and the fear of even trying. That was something that always made her uncomfortable about Jedi; she couldn’t hide her feelings. 

“It’s difficult to say,” she began carefully. “I felt strangely… clear. As though I could see everything there was to see.”

“Mm.” There was a glimmer in Tammeth’s eyes. “And did it feel powerful?”

“If it was powerful, I had no idea how to use it.” This, at least, was completely true. Sol was baffled by such a concept, as even her little power with the Force itself was taken rather than granted, wrapped desperately around her bones to keep her from falling apart. When it was granted it felt like it was beyond her skill to control. She could not fathom what she could do with the kind of power she’d become aware of under the bota’s influence, only that it could destroy… everything. 

It had already let her destroy the bota, after all. She still didn’t know how, but she’d pushed at just the right weak spot, and somehow the plant was going to fall out of favor with the Force by whatever course such power saw fit. That truth, she felt sure she would take to her grave.

“I cannot help but wonder what would happen to a Jedi who did such a thing,” Tammeth murmured, stroking her chin. “Perhaps nothing good. Such power is too great for one soul to bear.”

That surprised Sol. She looked over at the Lurman, whose face was suddenly serious and doubtful. “Will you tell the council?” she asked softly.

“I don’t think I will. Maybe I’ll regret it, but it makes me uneasy to think of such a secret being known. For it is a secret, that now you and I must keep.” The Jedi’s eyes glinted, growing hard in the low light for just a moment. “I suppose I can’t stop you if you decide to go blabbing, of course, but I sense you know as well as I do that this is dangerous.”

“I certainly do.” Sol bristled a little. It was that very danger that had led her to the bota’s weakness. And the Force was still lingering inside her, stronger than before, and she hated it. She was waiting to watch it leap out of her and hurt someone else, or get someone else hurt. Or, worse, fail to protect her men. Her brothers.

“Good. Can you tell me what happened when you found the Falleen?”

“It was something of a standoff. She was working for the Black Sun, unsurprisingly. When we told her that her delivery would be two vials short, she didn’t much care for that,” Sol said dryly. 

“Cursed criminals,” muttered Tammeth. “They’ve been hounding the bota trade since it started. Unsurprisingly, I suppose, but the Black Sun is an old dominion of the underworld.”

“I know.” Sol’s golden eyes flickered, hardening. “But she said something interesting. Apparently they’re under new management. A group called the Shadow Collective appears to be recruiting the black market syndicates. Their leaders are calling themselves Sith.”

As expected, the name caught the Jedi’s interest instantly. She frowned in disbelief.

“There are more and more whispers of the Sith lately. But it makes no sense for any Sith to be commanding a criminal circuit.”

“I told her they were fools.”

“Mm, perhaps.” She was stroking her chin again, and her cybernetic rear leg was tapping the ferrocrete under her. “This, I will inform the council. I think they’ll find it absurd, too, but I cannot let such a name go unheard even if it is being paraded around by a bunch of black market megalomaniacs.”

Sol nodded. “I understand. Certainly the Black Sun isn’t up to anything unusual under their new bosses yet. Playing the Seps as much as they played the Republic isn’t surprising.”

“Yes, I heard about Admiral Bleyd. Pity our civilian officers can apparently still be bought out, but I suppose that in war we must expect as much,” Tammeth said. “I was hoping not to deal with Black Sun since we arrived here after all the previous problems the Rimsoo had with infiltration and treason.”

“I wonder if they’ll be back or not,” said Sol, glancing up at the chrono on the wall absently. Four hours, Twofer had been in surgery. She rubbed her forehead. 

“Hm.” For a moment, she and the Jedi sat in ponderous silence, each in their own thoughts. But their quiet was interrupted by the flap of the OT opening and a young surgeon named Uli emerging. Sol rose to her feet immediately. 

“Doctor?” she asked, terrified of his response.

“Your man’s gonna make it,” Uli replied with a weary nod. “It’s not every day the missing limb gets brought in along with the soldier. Much easier than growing a new one, or getting ahold of quality wetware on this backwater slime-hole, if they’d even do a clone the courtesy.”

Sol felt some of the weight drop from her shoulders. “Vor entye, doctor. Thank you.” 

“Just doing my job, Sergeant,” he said. “General Tammeth, we’ve lost about two dozen of your men, which is better than I expected,” he added to the diminutive Lurman. 

“You’re quite good at your job, Doc.” Tammeth was smiling, but finally looking as weary as Sol felt. “I expected much worse as well. But we will honor those lost, as we always do.” 

“May I see my teammate?” Sol asked. 

“He’s unconscious at the moment, but he’ll be awake in a few hours. I suggest you get some rest, Sarge.” 

That was less than she wanted, but it was enough to placate her in her exhaustion. She nodded.

“If orders come in for you, I’ll contact you over the comm,” Tammeth assured her. “You need rest, young Sol. Your team wants to see you well, after all. Their welfare isn’t entirely on your shoulders.”

“Elek,” Sol sighed. Of course, the Jedi was right. 

"You know, there's nothing wrong in letting people who love you help you," Tammeth said. Then, she grinned. "Not that I love you. I just met you."

At that, Sol did laugh feebly. “Vor’e, General. I’ll go see about resting.” She turned to retreat down the long gray hall without lingering, issuing a silent prayer that sleep might find her just long enough to disappear the time between that moment and when she could wrap her arms around her brother.

    ----- 

When Sol woke on her cot some hours later, it was to the sound of her commlink chirping insistently. Groaning, she reached to slap the button on her vambrace. 

“Sergeant Tannor,” she said groggily.

“Rise and shine, little’un,” said Stone’s voice. She looked around the room at the other beds and realized they were all empty. “Someone’s up here you’re gonna want to see.” 

Suddenly she was wide awake and springing out the cot like it was on fire. “Where are you?” 

“In the mess.”

“Why didn’t you wake me before?” she barked, frowning as she nearly sprinted out of the barracks and down between the tents. The sun was risen, in fact it was high in the sky.

“You needed to rest, vod’ika. Besides, lunch is ready.”

“Wayii! I’ll be right there!” she said with an eyeroll. But she was too full of excitement to even dwell on it, skidding past doctors and nurses and droids until she made her way into the mess hall and scanned for grey and red armor.

Sure enough, there was her squad at a table all together, laughing with Commander Basher. Twofer looked just like he always did, alive and chuckling with fresh cuts in his eyebrow just as he liked them. His brown eyes caught hers, and a smile broke out over his face. 

“Vod!” She actually sprinted this time, beaming as he stood from the table and just barely managed to throw out his arms in time to catch her and spin around. Sol locked her hands behind his neck, her heart racing even as she felt a wave of relief pass over her. Twofer was laughing, slowing their spin but still holding her against him. He was tall enough that her feet dangled above the ground.

“I’m right here, Sarge!” he chuckled, but he gripped her tight all the same for a moment. When he set her back down on the ground, there were tears in Sol’s eyes that she tried to keep from falling. 

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, vod,” she said, turning loose of his neck to take his face in his hands and pull his forehead down against hers. He laughed.

“What, get blown up instead of blowing something up?”

“Yes!”

“Sorry, vod’ika. I’ll work on that.” 

She pulled back again to look up at him with half a smirk. “K'lamot di'dunla,” she said, playfully accepting his apology.

“Come on,” Twofer grinned, canting his head back towards the table. “We got you a plate already. And, the Commander here heard some news you might like to know.”

“Oh?” She settled into her seat, smiling gratefully at the food that was already waiting for her there. “What news?”

“Well, there’s a reporter who’s been hangin’ about the Rimsoo for a while now,” Basher began. “Earlier this morning, he told me that there’s a big splash all over the holonet about a clone’s rights bill that’s just opening on the Senate floor today.”

A big, triumphant smile broke over Sol’s face like a sunrise.

“Looks like your little idea took off, Sarge,” said Grip with his own toothy grin.

“I gotta say, Tannor, I never thought I’d see the day something like that really happened, not until the war actually ended,” said Basher to her. “The General’s gonna be delighted, too. She’s got a few concerns I think that bill will address, assuming it’s not voted down.” 

“If it’s voted down, the senators I spoke to will try again,” she replied. “They told me that a bill sometimes has to take several forms before it passes the Senate. But we won’t give up that easily.” 

Basher nodded. “We’re lucky to have you, then.”

Sol’s smile went from triumphant to a little embarrassed, but she just nodded. “It’s the least I can do, sir.” 

They chatted over the food, which was surprisingly decent as General Tammeth had said. Commander Basher told them about facing the droids out in a clearing in the wooded area south of the Separatist base, about picking the droids off from the trees as much as the front line, about a patch of combustible mushrooms they’d found nearby that they’d drawn the line of clankers towards before lobbing a mortar at them. Twofer was highly amused, of course. 

In the middle of lunch, Sol’s commlink blipped again. 

“This is Cronos,” she said into it, much more professionally than she’d answered that morning. 

“Cronos, this is General Kenobi,” came an even, lilting voice she knew. Instantly she stiffened— not out of reverence so much as out of her most recent memory of that particular Jedi, trying to herd Satine Kryze around the Galactic Senate building. “I have orders from High General Windu for you, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.” The rest of the squad was listening curiously.

“You’re being routed back to headquarters. The Steadfast is en route now to retrieve you. You’re to meet with General Windu as soon as he can join you there, which ideally shouldn’t be more than a day after you arrive.”

“Did he say what for?” she asked, raising a brow.

“He did not.” 

“Suvar, General Kenobi. We’ll be ready to board when the ship arrives.” 

“Very good, Sergeant Tannor. Kenobi out.” The blinking light on her vambrace darkened, and she shrugged at her vode. 

“Sounds like we’ve got another mission to do.” 

“The Steadfast was over Umbara last I heard,” said Basher. “Wonder if the battle’s over, finally?” 

Sol’s squadmates all glanced at her as though they detected the coil of anxiety that tightened in her throat. Would Rex be on the cruiser? Was he alive? She’d never felt such a worry before, with the unyielding threat that was war hanging like a cloud over their heads. But maybe her brush with death, as well as that of two of her squad, was making her all the more aware.

“I sure hope so,” said Swift. “I heard the Umbarans have been putting up one hell of a fight.” 

“They sent General Skywalker and the 501st there to finish it,” Basher replied. 

“We know. Our paths crossed before we came here. If I know Rex, the battle’s done.” Swift was trying to reassure her indirectly, Sol knew. 

“See, but there was a report of treason at Umbara,” said the commander, ducking his head and lowering his voice. “I didn’t tell the lads. Didn’t want to get them down, as it’s not happened since Christophsis. And never heard of a traitor that was this high profile.”

“Who?” asked Grip, leaning over the table on his elbows. 

The quiet words that came out of Basher’s mouth froze Sol’s heart mid-beat.

“A Jedi.” 

Chapter Text

Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer Steadfast, en route to Coruscant

Rex was sitting inside the officer’s barracks on the cruiser, which was at that moment otherwise empty. A couple of the dozen bunks inside were marked with an abandoned helmet— there were green or gray or purple markings on them, as the ship was in the middle of travelling at least four units of varying sizes. 

He knew Cronos Squad was boarding soon. He always knew, always kept an eye on where the commandos were whenever he could. But in the wake of Umbara, he wasn’t sure he’d be good company. He was ignoring the chrono, even though part of him wanted to wait down in the hangar for their shuttle to arrive, to wrap his arms around Sol and never let her go.

He knew his men were just as troubled as he was, particularly Fives. And Dogma, the poor fool, was in the throes of an outright identity crisis in the medical bay. A minder from the Rimsoo on Drongar had been asked to come up and speak with the distraught clone, apparently an empathic sort who regularly aided the surgeons planetside in dealing with the brutal realities they saw endlessly. It was the first Rex had ever heard of psychological intervention on behalf of a clone. He hoped it would help, seeing as the subject of Dogma himself was touchy amongst the rest of his vode for the time being. 

It was the sound of the door to the unit sliding open that pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up from where he sat in the bottom corner bunk to see Sol’s head peering around it, turning until her eyes fell on him. 

She’d found him.

Without a word she entered and let the door shut behind her, casting a glance and a nod back at someone else before it did. Rex swallowed, his relief at seeing her wrestling with the weight of nearly everything else. He was slouching on the bed, looking up at her as she approached.

“Su’cuy’gar,” she murmured, a greeting that carried almost as much weariness as he did.

“Hey, verd’ika.” She came up close to stand before him, eyes pools of gold beneath her white lashes. “Yeah, I’m still here.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. 

“Not really,” he replied. “Not right now, at least.”

“Jat. Fives told me a little, and word had already reached Drongar by the time we were preparing to leave.”

“Word of what?” 

“The Jedi traitor.” 

Rex closed his eyes again. “Oh. That.”

“Is he in custody?” she asked.

“General Krell is dead.” His mouth twisted a little in shame, and she saw it.

“Rex, what’s wrong?” The way she looked at him, he wanted to tell her everything. But he didn’t know if he could bear a recounting this soon.

“Later,” he murmured. He patted his hand on the bed beside him instead, imploring her to sit. So she did, putting her helmet down on the floor before sliding onto the thin mattress and pressing her back against the wall beside him. “What about you? What happened down on Drongar?”

She glanced away. “Almost lost two of my vode.” Her voice was amazingly quiet. His chest sank, and he wanted to hold her. “Almost didn’t make it, myself.”

At that, his sadness spiked into sudden and directionless terror for a second. He swallowed hard. “You seem alright now,” he said.

“The bota…” Her eyes were far away for a moment. 

“I heard that stuff’s a miracle. I guess it’s true.”

“I suppose you could say that.” She didn’t seem particularly awed.

“If it kept you alive, I’ll forever be indebted to it.” Now she met his eyes again, and he smiled softly. He was so weary from everything he'd just experienced, all the loss and near-loss, that it didn't occur to him to fret over if such a statement was too revealing of his ever-guarded heart. She was alive, and so was he, and for the moment that was so much more important.

“It showed me a few things,” she murmured.

“Like what?”

There was an ember behind her gaze suddenly, a look that tightened his chest. “I’ve been afraid, Rex. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid of what?” he murmured, caught in the gravity of her eyes.

“Of saying true things, feeling them. I won’t let the fear stop me anymore, alor’ad. Not if I’m to lie at death’s door and regret it.” 

His breath had hitched with the fierceness in her words. Every part of his body ached to be against her without armor in the way, or anything else for that matter. Nothing but her presence had brought him much comfort in the past few hours, when his men all went their own ways to be quiet and heavy with the events that had so recently drawn to their close.

At that moment, he thought about Cody. About the two jaig eyes on his helmet, watching him from where it rested at the head of the bunk. 

“What’s on your mind, Sol’ika?” he asked, wondering if he’d found the moment where at last the dam built over the longing in his heart would break.

She glanced away, fire tempered suddenly by whatever it was she was afraid of. “Will you take a walk with me?”

“Sure, but I dunno where we’re going.”

“I do.” She looked back at him, and there was a little smile on her face that bordered on mischievous. Rex could feel his face bending to reflect it back at her, but more baffled.

“Oookay, well, am I allowed to ditch some of this armor?” he asked, noticing that she’d shucked the top half of her fancy Katarn plastoid— or maybe it was plasteel, he’d heard even their gear was nicer— and her gloves. 

“I mean, I suppose,” she said, rolling her eyes and grinned. “If you’re off duty.”

“I’m very off-duty, thank the Maker.” He started to unclasp his vambraces, then his rerebraces, sliding them onto the cot with his helmet. Sol slid off the bed, and he followed her. 

“You want my help?” she asked.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, unclasping either side of his chestplate. He felt her hands against him as she took the piece that was on his back, and he the front. Then he removed the torso wrap with its plastoid panels, and pulled off his black gloves. 

“Feel better?” Her expression was all cheek.

“Why yes, I do, actually,” he said with a smirk. “Lead the way.” 

They slipped out of the barracks and he trailed just behind her through the halls of the Steadfast, watching her high ponytail sway every time she turned her head. He knew his way around these cruisers well enough, he figured that eventually he’d figure out where they were headed. 

He was wrong. It was a strange hallway on Deck -01, tucked behind one of the stairways near the main energy complex of the ship. When the hallway narrowed so much that he had to turn to his side to get through it, Rex started to worry.

“Where you takin’ me, little one?” he asked 

“Nowhere you’re too big to fit into,” she replied playfully. 

“I just mean am I gonna get chewed out if somebody finds me there.”

“Nobody’s gonna find us here.”

“How d’ya know that?” He raised a brow, wondering what in the galaxy he’d gotten into, and why she knew about whatever secret nook or cranny they were destined for.

“You’ll see!”

They were ducking behind the walls of one of the reactors, the spaces getting tighter and then opening only to shrink again. Suddenly, the passage opened into an alcove— a little gap between the reactor and the side of the ship, illuminated by the narrow strip of a viewport that seemed to come from above a crevice punched into the ceiling along the wall. 

“It’s technically a flaw in the design of the ship,” she said, stopping and turning so he could squeeze through the gap and fumble in beside her. “The ceiling here didn’t align with the bottom viewport seam. But, it’s only along a small part of the ship where the reactor is, on either side. And the difference isn't big enough to affect the stability of it, so they just… cut a little gap in the ceiling.” 

Rex stared up at the crevice, at the endless flow of light outside the viewport that was casting its ethereal glow down into their little burrow. “How did you find out about this?” he asked, blinking.

“Grip was looking over the maps for all the ships at one point, and he noticed the measurements of the division of this level didn’t match the outer dimensions of the ship even though on the maps they’re connected.” He turned and looked back down at her, and she was smiling. “So I came down to explore after that. Had a lot of time to kill on that jump.”

“This is in every cruiser?”

“Every Venator-class, yeah.”

“Wow.” Glancing between the glimpse of hyperspace and then her face, he smiled. “And you come down to these a lot?”

“Not that often. Just when I need… you know. To be alone,” she said.

“I know what you mean.” 

The light threw itself onto them, soft but directional, and then bounced off the durasteel to diffuse all around them like they were bathed in the light of two moons. There was enough room for them to stand with two meters or so between them, a surprisingly comfortable space, but of course, he was standing right by her, their arms against each other.

It took him just a moment to realize that they were about as alone as they could ever hope to be on a Jedi cruiser.

“Rex?” she asked, and her voice was almost timid.

“Yeah?”

“Did you… did you really kiss me, when we were down there on Moraga?” 

His heart was already beating loud enough, wasn’t it? 

“Um, well, yes,” he murmured, face flushing. “I… I did. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that while you were so—”

“It’s okay,” she assured him quickly.

“And I shouldn’t have played it off like I didn’t remember—”

“Ne baatir, really.” She was almost laughing. 

“You sure, Sol?” he asked, and noticed that her accepting responses did nothing whatsoever to slow the pounding in his chest.

“Yes.” She was looking away from him, almost smiling. He swallowed hard, wondering if he should say anything else. Wondering how long he was really going to drag this out like a fool.

“Alright, well, as long as you’re not upset,” he said.

“Not at all. It’s just…”

Maker help me, he thought, it’s just what?  

“Yeah?”

“I’ve— I’ve never been kissed before. I just wish I could remember what it felt like,” she said, pointedly looking at her feet. Rex blinked for just a moment in surprise. But she was chewing on her bottom lip, and their arms were still touching. He turned towards her, and knew very suddenly and very surely what he wanted.

Shereshoy.

“Well…” he began, and gently lifted her face up towards him to look into the molten gold of her eyes, the lifeblood of the galaxy reflected in them as it rushed by. “I could kiss you again. Right now, if you wanted.” 

He almost felt her whole body tense just a little, but her face was full of surprise that parted her lips ever so slightly, filled her gaze with awe. And then she nodded, yes.

Taking her face in his big hands, Rex leaned down towards her. As he tilted his head just so, his eyes flickered over her plush lips, trying to memorize every moment because none of the moments from the first time he’d kissed her were clear. None of the memories were solid or real to him. He wanted this one forever, even if it never happened again. 

The way she froze when his lips landed home, the tiny little gasp through her nose and the way she slightly rose up on her feet, was incredible to him. He couldn’t remember his first kiss— he’d been drunk at the time. But every moment of this was new for her, new and stars, he hoped it was exciting, too. The first one became a series of puckers, never fully drawing them apart, and then her mouth fell soft and open and he drew on her bottom lip with his own. The breaths from her nose came deeper and slower, and all he could smell was her, all he could taste was her. He could feel her melting in his hands; when he switched to her top lip, she gripped at his forearms and pressed closer to him, sucking in breaths like she still wasn’t sure where to find them between his lips.

When he drew away slowly, reluctantly, he watched her close with her face still cradled in his hands. Her eyes were closed, mouth just open, and she was breathing slowly. He waited, but she just stayed like that for a moment. Finally he smiled and laughed, and white lashes fluttered open.

“I hope that was memorable,” he said. Again, all she did was nod, and gaze at him in wonder. For a moment, they stood in a silence that wasn’t quite easy, but it was utterly full. Something warm and gooey was filling Rex’s body, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was smiling like a fool, he knew, and he didn’t give a bantha’s ass. 

“Yeah,” she sighed, drawing closer to his body. “Can… can I have one more?”

He couldn’t even respond except by leaning down again, lingering in her breath for just a moment to smell her peppery scent before he gently pushed their lips together. This time she began to mirror his movements, delicately testing the ways their mouths could interact. It drove a spike through him the first time she pulled on his bottom lip, and his hands slipped down around her waist to tug her in closer. 

The tiniest little whimper came from her throat when he slipped his tongue into her mouth just a little, and for a split second he wasn’t sure if he should stop— until her hands slid up his chest to wrap around his neck, and her lips fell further apart. Ever so gently he traced his tongue across hers. Just feeling her shudder in his arms sent a pang of arousal through him. But he wasn’t sure what she wanted yet, nor was he sure how much of life either of them was comfortable with trying to seize all at once. So he let their mouths linger against each other, and basked in the sensation of her body pressed against his at last. 

When they drew apart again, she kept her face close. Rex couldn’t keep from smiling, that kind of smile that was subtle and never left the corners of his mouth. She still seemed breathless, even punch-drunk as her eyelashes fluttered open slowly. 

“Hey,” he said in nearly a whisper. “Dance with me.” 

Sol blinked. “Now? But there’s no music.”

“Yes there is. If you lean close enough to my chest, I bet you’ll hear it.”

“Oh…” The look on her face, like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard, made Rex feel marginally less cheesy about saying it. But it had come into his mind, and it was true. 

He slid his hand around her waist, pulling her more snugly to him, and in his free hand he took one of hers. She put her other hand on the back of his neck, which made him shiver, and let her face hang brushing against his. Slowly they began to sway and turn, the sound of the humming reactor and their hearts beating in time the only music they really needed.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Nothing else needed to be said, as they stared at each other in the ethereal light of their secret alcove. They might as well have been alone in the galaxy.