Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

FN-2187 started seeing them when he was twelve. Just glimpses around the corners or during late nights when he couldn’t sleep. He never saw them long enough to catch any identifying features about who they were, but he knew they didn’t belong in the training facilities.

He quickly learned to never ask questions about the shifty people that moved in the shadows, always appearing at random times. It earned him a trip to the medical wing where he received a stab to the neck that made him woozy, slow, and sick for days after.

Soon, he learned to forget about the men he kept seeing. For his own safety as he and his squadmates got older.

Sometimes, he’d lay awake at night, on the verge of sleep when he’d remember the flashes of tan skin and warm brown eyes. Then he’d force himself to shut his mind off before he let his mind wonder too much. The last girl he knew that did that ended up in the forbidden sector, never returning to training ever again.

FN-2187 flinched awake at bright lights that flooded the room.

Wake up. Great.

He blinked and sighed heavily, taking stock of his body.

His body ached from yesterday’s training, feeling every microtear in his muscles. The ache spread up his legs to his lower back. He knew his arms would feel the same pain as well as his head.

He slowly sat up, the thin blanket over his legs pooling at his waist. The bright white lights buzzed and burned his eyes. Stumbling, he got to his feet, starting to clip his armor on.

“Headache again?” Seventy-seven asked him from across the room. 

FN-2187 just kept his head down, snapped the clips of his armor into place. “I’m fine.”

“You better be,” snapped Sixty-three. The young man had grown strong since their time as children. Strong corded muscles stretched along his body.

FN-2187 had always been on the smaller side, better suited for speed and agility which meant he was a great target for his larger squadmate.

“We have live round training and I don’t need to drag your ass through again.”

He fought back the eye roll. Voicing or even showing his frustrations had never ended well for him, often leaving himself with a bruised body. “Not going to be a problem," he muttered.

They marched to the training wing of their facility. FN-2187 didn’t even know what planet they resided on. They never questioned where they had been raised their entire lives.

His head pounded as they walked, already feeling weak in the knees. He hated live round training with a fiery passion. It left them frustrated and hurt and fearful they’d be taken to the restricted sector.

They entered the blaster locker, selecting their weapons. He chose a standard rifle, not having enough time training with any other blaster. He’d rather not kill one of his own squadmates even if they didn’t get along with each other.

They entered the training arena, the durasteel dull and gray as ever.

“Let’s try not to get killed, please?” Fifty-one drawled, examining her pistols. 

Sixty-three brushed past all of them, rolling his neck. “On me,” he ordered.

FN-2187 would rather eat rocks but here they were.

The simulation started and he ducked behind cover, already hearing the zap of rounds hitting the durasteel near his head.

“Eighty-seven, start fucking moving!” Sixty-three snapped at him. 

He rolled his eyes. And get killed? Fine, we’ll do it your way.

He popped up and shot at the training droids, his rounds stunning them into limp positions for the remainder of the simulation. Or if their trainers decided to have some fun and turn them back on.

He lagged behind his squadmates, looking over their six while they just barreled through. Their military tactics course had been brief but not enough for the rest of his squadmates to act so stupid.

“This is ridiculous,” someone said. He didn’t know who but he had to agree.

He fired off a couple more rounds, barely hitting his target and even missing at points which nearly made him eat the ground to dodge shots.

But of course his squad leader just rushed through, not even bothering to check corners as the simulation changed the more they walked.

Eighty-seven continued on his way, not even bothering to warn his squadmates about threats. They wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

“Get down!” He yelled as a grenade launched toward them.

The reverb of the explosion rattled his head as he drove to the ground. His ear rang under his helmet, vision nearly going white. His head pounded in his skull. He whimpered in pain.

“That’s not good,” someone muttered like they were far away and with a strange accent.

Or maybe he was going crazy.

It took him a while to recover. He shakily walked, firing off a few rounds at stray droids. He couldn't even catch up to his squad before the simulation went red and shut down, signalling a failure.

He hung his head, headache still pressing against his temples. Fucking perfect. He walked to the rest of his squad, seeing them all arguing.

The blast doors of the sim room opened and their trainer stalked in. He was a stern man with scars showing his past in battle. And now he looked murderous.

“All of you, restricted sector. Right now. I’m done with your shit.”

FN-2187 trembled as they walked down the halls of the facility, all of them now silent. They took a left turn instead of right, leading them right into dangerous territory.

Once they were in view of the security camera, one of the only in the whole building, the doors slid open ominous. No trooper would ever possess a high enough rank to get access to the cold and dim hallway that graced them. The only way to get through was from the operator on the other side of the camera.

Eight-Seven could already feel the voltage surging through his veins, lighting every nerve ending up. Biting his lip, he kept his head neutral.

Droids intercepted them, separating them from the huddle they had subconsciously made.

He struggled in the metal grip only once because he received a hit to the back of his head that made him see stars. Bile crawled into his throat.

His eyes found a window in the wall, one that allowed him to peer into a medical room lined with machinery. Is that where that girl ended up? Her last moments in that cold room, alone with nothing but pain and fear? Is that how he would go out?

He was shoved into a room. A room with a restraining table. He wanted to cry but he hadn’t done so in years.

“Armor off,” one of the droids ordered.

Mindlessly, he unclipped the pieces and removed his helmet, leaving him in his black underclothes. He couldn’t step closer to the table.

The droids returned, grabbing him by the arms. He fought harder this time, even pleading with the metal bodies. They never let up, lacking any human emotions to do so. They had their orders.

Eight-seven clenched his eyes closed as his back hit the table and the clamps came down over his body. His chest heaved with reserved cries and stress, body going into panic mood. Not ready for the pain that would fall upon him.

He heard the electricity cracking through the air, making the hairs on his neck stand up in warning. He tensed in the restraints and received a quick shock to the knee. Yelping, one tear escaped.

“Perhaps, you will do better next time and this fate will not befall onto you.”

That’s when the electric shocks started coursing through his body, making his jaw lock up.

His head screamed in pain, begging for all of this to stop.

The pain never ended, just a constant stream of torture.

He didn’t want to scream, wanting to prove he could be a good soldier. 

He felt a wall in his mind. Something he’d never felt before.

The voltage increased, making the urge to scream grow even more.

He figured it was the line of his psyche, the line between sanity and insanity. He pushed against it, and it only budged a bit.

Something inside of him pleaded for him to give in, to break the line.

And as his body started trembling from the current and pain, his jaw unlocked with a loud scream. One that rattled the room around him, the sound bouncing off the wall.

He felt the line break inside of his mind before he lost consciousness.

…

He woke up alone in the restricted sector.

His body ached with the electricity that went through him, but his head oddly didn’t hurt. Glancing down, his bonds had been released from around his body, making it easy for him to step out.

He groaned as his joints ached once he stepped onto the floor. Starting the painful process of putting his armor back on, he fought whimpers and mumbles of pain. He heard whispering in the hallways but he couldn’t give a damn.

The hallways were empty as he limped through them. He checked the time on his commlink and saw it was nearly lights out time. 

He typed in the code for their barracks, signing as the door swung open and saw no one else present. They were no doubt in the medbay receiving treatment. FN-2187 hated the medbay so it never crossed his mind. And his margarine had disappeared so he wasn’t going to tempt fate by going to that damned wing.

He collapsed into his bunk, barely having enough strength to unclip his armor. His cold sheets felt nice against his skin no matter how scratchy they were.

Slipping into a light doze, his body went pleasantly numb with sleep. He saw flashes of light in his dreams, mindless colors in the darkness.

But voices from around the room pulled him back to consciousness.

“Why are we in here?”

“Because it’s finally quiet.”

“We have access to the entire facility.”

“My point still stands.”

Eighty-seven had half a mind to throw a pillow at the idiots in his room. Inside, he went for a “shut up.”

The voices immediately stopped talking.

He shifted around in his bed, trying to get comfortable again. It worked because the next time he woke up it was for the alarm.

He rubbed his eyes. Then he remembered last night. Quickly sitting up, he glanced around for his squadmates. He came up empty—their beds bare.

Then who was in the barracks last night? he wondered.

He headed to the mess hall, nearly running into other troopers as he got lost in his thoughts. It made his head spin.

After retrieving his messily portions, he settled at a table. He messed with his food more than ate it. Shoving a few forkfulls in his mouth, he stared around the mess hall, having nothing else to do.

It was mostly scarce, most squads at training. FN-2187’s training rotation didn’t start for another hour.

Two of his squadmates walked in the mess, plopping down across from him. They looked like shit, bags under their eyes and pain pinching their faces.

He gave them soft looks. “You two good?” he muttered, stabbing at his food once again.

“Fine,” Seventy-seven replied. “You seem better than before we got fried.”

Eighty-Seven cleared his throat awkwardly, shrugging. “Guess I finally got some good sleep.” Such a damn lie.

Fifty-one’s short bob brushed against her jaw. “What do we have today?”

“Hand-to-hand then range,” he replied quietly. He’d never admit it but he liked these two the best out of his squad. They knew how much of an idiot Sixty-three was and tried to look out for him when his headaches hit.

He’d had them since he was a child, remembering nothing but debilitating pain splitting through his skull multiple times. Thankfully, it never happened in front of their trainers or he would’ve been taken away a lot sooner.

He glanced up and froze.

Across from the mess sat two troopers that mirrored each other, helmets removed. Both had tan skin with dark eyes and hair. However, one of them had a goatee with a tattoo on his temple while the other was clean-shaven. But their armor was wrong. The most confusing part of it was the blue paint on the white plastoid.

At the same time, they turned to him, sensing his eyes on them. He ducked his head, trying not to stare. Who the hell were they?

Seventy-seven glanced over his shoulder, and then he frowned at FN-2187. “What?”

Now it was his turn to shoot his squadmate a look. “You don’t…”

“There's no one there.”

Fifty-one gave a long groan. “Please tell me the shocks and migraine didn’t melt your brain.”

He scrambled from the bench, practically running from the room. He didn’t check to see if the two men were still there. He just fled.

The race back to the barrack had him winded, panicked breaths leaving him.

What was happening?

His fingers trembled, needing to do something to fix this. But how does one fix hallucinations?

“He doesn’t look too good,” a voice drawled.

His head snapped up, looking for the source. In his rapid movement, all he saw was the bunks blurring together in a mess of grays.

“Wait…can he hear us?”

FN-2187 threw his hands over his ears, going to his knees on the ground. “Stop, please!”

“Osik.”

“Get the al’verdese.”

FN-2187 rested his head on his knees, digging his forehead into the armor of his legs. This was the start of the end. He’d be taken to the restricted sector or the medbay to be poked and prodded. They wouldn’t stop even if he begged and screamed. The First Order didn’t take kindly to weak lifeforms that begged for mercy.

It would be pain and terror and then…nothing. Just nothing.

His trembling increased so he curled up tighter. He sucked in some breath to get his lungs working properly. They spasmed in his ribs, but he evened his breathing out.

He glanced up and saw nothing around the room. Absolutely nothing. Sitting there for another hour, no one else entered the barracks. No one left.

His comm buzzed at his wrist, a reminder that he had places to be unless he wanted to get smoked by his trainers. Like a young trooper scared of the dark, he watched every corner as he left the barracks then he shoved his helmet on.

The walk to the training salles felt like an eternity but he finally stumbled through the door. A few squads were already present but their trainers weren't. A small grace, he decided as he stepped into line.

Three trainers stepped into the room. Three humans, two men and one woman, stood in front of them. “Sparring. Now,” one of the men ordered, his dark skin mirroring Eighty-seven’s.

They all dropped their buckets on the ground before heading to the mats.

He hated hand-to-hand. Their trainers decided the best way to prepare them was for the stronger troopers to throw them around with no sense of critiquing. Just yelling.

He engaged his first partner, a tall woman that had a few inches on him. However, he managed to get her to chase him around the mat for a bit. She landed a few good hits that got absorbed by his armor.

“Stop dancing around!” one of his trainers roared. 

On instinct, he sweeped a leg out to land her ass on the ground before putting a knee in her back. She struggled for a bit then tapped the ground in submission. He released her, shuffling back to the edge.

A few minutes passed of spars before the woman locked eyes with him. “Nines!” she shouted for the large clone that just slammed a trooper on the ground, nearly knocking him out. “You’re with Eighty-seven.”

The redhead had a wicked smirk. FN-2187 wondered what the medbay would be serving for rations that evening.

He slowly walked onto the mat. Nines just glared at him with that same smirk, always looking for an opportunity to pummel him. He could never find a weakness in the older man’s fighting style, never on the mat long enough without seeing stars.

Nines launched at him, giving him no time to even think of what his strategy was. Eighty-seven’s lungs cramped painfully as he sluggishly tried to move the man off of him. He grunted as a fist found its way into his side, pissing him off. He lashed out, landing a few hits.

But Nines still pinned him to the ground. FN-2187 wanted to tap out.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” one sound from the side lines.

“Use your damn legs,” another nearly shouted, sounding just a bit different from the first, more gentle.

Eighty-seven obeyed, using his legs to bridge himself up. It took him a few tries but he managed to knock Nines off of him.

The redhead blinked before throwing a punch for his face. He ducked out of the wall, aiming a kick that landed on the man’s back.

Nine gave a frustrated yell before throwing him into a wall.

FN-2187’s head snapped back, slamming right into the steel at his back. Sparks flashed in front of him, spots blurring his vision.

His trainers just shook their heads in disappointment. The dark skinned man waved a hand. “Get this fucking failure to the medbay so he stops bleeding all over my floor.”

He flinched as hands grabbed him, heaving him upward in tight grips. Fifty-one mumbled a few things under her breath as they dragged him through the hallway.

He could feel drips of blood trailing down the back of his neck. His head spun as they entered the bright medbay.

A medic approached, brow pinched as he sighed. “What happened?”

“Sparring accident. He got thrown into a wall,” Fifty-one explained in a dry tone.

The medic led him to a bed, having him sit.

“Number?” he asked in a bored tone.

“FN-2187,” he answered quietly in the busy medical wing.

“Hold still.”

He flinched at the hypo in his neck. The medic rarely gave warnings before they did anything. He just sat there clenching his teeth as the medic pressed on his head to stop the bleeding before giving him a spray of bacta.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes to discharge you,” the man clipped and that was that.

He lowered himself on the cot onto his side, avoiding the tender area of his skull. His vision still danced, making his stomach swoop.

He heard a few whispers around as he slipped into a light slumber until he was shaken awake.

The medic had returned, pulling him back up sitting. He poked and prodded at his injury before doing a double take when he looked at Eighty-seven’s face. He took a pen light, flashing it in front of his eyes. FN-2187 flinched.

“You’re concussed. No more training for the day. You can return to normal duties tomorrow.”

Just what he needed, another reason for his trainers to target him. For his own squadmates to do so as well.

The medic discharged him without another word, shooing him away.

His head screamed at him every step he took. He could just grit his teeth, not having the protection of his helmet to block his facial features.

The barracks door was a welcome sight for his tired eyes. No one else was present, thankfully, so he could crumble in pain on his bunk without any comments.

He made a soft noise as he laid down, head spinning.

“You got busted up, huh verd’ika?”

FN-2187 flipped over and nearly fell off his bunk. A man sat near his hip with brown eyes and cropped blond hair. His sharp features were betrayed by the softness in his eyes.

He got to his feet, slowly backing away toward the hall as he stared at the man. And his blue armor, just like the two he had seen in the mess. 

“Who are you?” he asked him quietly.

“The question is,” another man spoke, “who are you?” He stood on the other side of the room, shoulder propped on the rails of a bunk. He took in the wicked scar that sliced through his right eye and his grey painted armor. And behind him was another man. And the more he looked around, the more men he noticed in the barracks. At least twenty of them.

He put a hand on the wall, putting his other hand to his head. “I’ve lost it,” he muttered to himself, matter-of-fact. “I’ve officially gone crazy.”

“Not crazy, verd’ika,” one of the men spoke toward the back.

Eighty-seven slammed his eyes closed. “Not real, not real.” Maybe he was in integration training and they drugged him too high.

“Verd’ika,” the man on his bunk called.

He didn’t know why but he responded to the name by lifting his head just a bit. If it was even a name. It didn’t sound like any word in Basic he’d heard. He just shook his head. “Not real .”

He centered himself and noticed that he felt as if a person stood close by, just a few feet away from him. Peering through his fingers, none of them had disappeared. In fact, one of them had moved closer.

He wore the same white armor as the others but instead of blue paint, red streaks on the white and his pauldron looked like blood. He crossed his arms over his chest, and FN-2187 could see his muscles twitching, as if he was keeping himself from moving. The man had a few more lines on his face, painting him as older.

FN-2187 moaned, leaning his head on the wall. “Why are you still here ?” Then he paused. “Why the hell am I even entertaining this?”

“Because we need you to pay attention,” the man spoke, his voice radiating authority. It made him cower away from him, wanting to stand at attention. The man sighed when he noticed his minuscule movements. “ This is real.”

He shook his head. “I’m going crazy. Fuck this.”

He started to make his way to the doors, needing to get out of here.

The men’s voices overlapped, a mess of “stop” and “don’t leave”.

Then FN-2187 ran into something solid that was a wall or door.

All the other men had moved out of his path, not trapping him in the room which he found odd, except for one in gold armor with a hooked scar around his right eye. And they were the ones that had collided.

Eighty-seven just went to move around him, too distracted, but then the man’s right hand shot out to grab him. He fought his grip until he saw the absolute disbelief in the man’s amber brown eyes.

“Are you… touching him?” The man’s armor had a green stripe down the front of his chestplate.

FN-2187 tried to fight more but his concussion caught up with him. And so did his anger. “No fucking shit,” he snapped at the man, feeling like a chained massiff bearing it’s teeth. “You have eyes don’t you?”

The blond man came up to him, and FN-2187 blinked.

Why do all of them look the same?

The man gently laid a hand on his back, making him shiver at the touch and the slight coldness seeping through his armor.

His eyes went wide.

One of the men, this one being the only one with fully black armor with red stripes, grumbled, “Stupid Manda magic osik.” His tattoo face pulled into a deep frown.

Eighty-seven blinked, no longer fighting. Why couldn’t they just speak Basic?

“Hit me,” the blond said to him, stepping back one pace.

The hand around his arm slipped away.

FN-2187 gaped at the man. “No! Why would I do that?”

The man just gave him a smile, gesturing toward his chest. “Come on, just go for it.”

He just shook his head.

“Trust us, you won’t hurt him,” a man said from behind the blond, armor mostly white except for a red stripe through his brown pauldron. 

Instead of throwing a punch, Eighty-seven aimed a shove at his chest. He expected to feel the armor that was so similar to his but he watched as his hand just went straight through his chest. 

He gave a near scream, ripping his hand away. He stumbled back into the man with gold armor, feeling his arms hold him steady.

The blond had a weird face, between discomfort and pain.

“Rex?” came from a man that looked slightly older than most of the men, armor with lighter blue marks.

Rex , he repeated in his head.

The blond, Rex , waved a hand in his direction. “It’s fine. Felt the same.” Then his eyes wandered over FN-2187. “Well, verd’ika, you have no idea how important you are.”

Eighty-seven just stared at where his hand had gone straight through . He couldn’t breathe. “What…how?” he stared at his hand.

Rex stepped closer, a hand hesitating before reaching out. He held in the flinch when his cold skin grazed against his chin, lifting his head. “This is going to take some explaining,” he said to him gently, like he was glass about to be broken.

“Who are all of you?” he asked, not knowing what the answer would be.

Rex struggled to find the right words.

So the man with red armor and ancient eyes that had stood at the wall with him spoke up. “We’re the Clone Troopers of the Grand Army of the Republic. More like were .”

FN-2187’s stomach bottomed out. He was going to be sick if he would ever breathe again.

The man with gray armor and the scar gave him a smirk. “Nice to meet you.”

FN-2187’s knees buckled which sent him toward the floor.

Chapter Text

Rex caught FN-2187 before he hit the ground, callus grip warm but also cold against him. He tried to grab onto the man’s forearm but his hand went straight through him, causing a shocked sound to leave him.

“Easy,” Rex muttered to him.

FN-2187 got back to his feet and back further away. He clenched his eyes shut. “This isn’t happening .” Maybe if he just ignored them, they would all disappear.

“It is, verd’ika,” someone murmured from the crowd of clones .

Eighty-seven wanted to scream. His mind had finally snapped. Broke. Unable to handle the First Order.

They’d kill him. That tight feeling in his chest returned. He’d finally learned where that one girl had ended up. He’d have his brain sliced into in the name of science, picking him apart piece by piece. Such a damn terrible way to go.

The door opened with an audible sound, making Eighty-seven freeze.

A sharp sigh cut through the room, and FN-2187 had hope that whoever entered the room would see them too.

Fifty-one yanked her helmet off but instead of glancing around the room in utter confusion, she just propped her weight onto one leg, staring him down. “You have that damn look on your face.”

He couldn’t say anything, the words lodged in his throat where they stayed. The clones stayed silent around the room, not even looking at Fifty-one.

She sighed again, tossing her bucket up to her bunk. “Please tell me you don’t have a migraine again.”

Eighty-seven slowly peered at the clones in the room. All of them had this pitiful look on their identical faces, something akin to protectiveness forming. But they also had just a hint of satisfaction.

“N-No,” he stuttered.

Fifty-one hummed, flicking the safety on her blaster. “Like I believe that one. It shows all over your face.”

A clone with yellow paint on his pauldron sighed. “Sorry, verd’ika. But this is real.”

FIfty-one gave no clue as to hearing a single word.

Son of a bitch.

FN-2187 shifted his feet.

The clone with light blue armor growled, “Don’t even think about it.”

He left the room as fast as he could without causing a scene. He just walked and then he ran. He needed to get out of this situation, but there was nowhere to go. Except for one place.

He headed toward the maintenance and storage sector of the facility where there was a single door leading to an observation deck. However before he could even reach his destination, he turned a corner and ran into someone.

He sighed and cringed, hoping it wasn’t anybody in command. That would get him busted up or even fried.

It was worse.

It was the two men— clones , he corrected— he’d seen the mess.

The clone with the tattoo on his temple had reached out when he turned the corner. It was the only reason FN-2187 hadn’t just walked right through him.

The two clones stared at the man’s hand around Eighty-seven, eyes going wide. They darted between his face and his arm.

“Didn’t I tell you two specifically to make yourselves scarce?” Rex’s voice rang out from behind him.

FN-2187’s face screwed up. He just wanted to be left alone and away from this crazy hallucination. Or bang his head into a hall until he passed out.

The one with the tattoo gaped at the man. “Is it a crime to walk around? We weren’t anywhere near you said to avoid.”

The other clone didn’t give Rex a response, only looking at the hand still on Eighty-seven’s body. He pulled out of the man’s grasp, backing away. The man gestured to him. “How can Fives touch him?”

Rex sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t know, Echo. Just trying to figure it out.”

“If the verd’ika would stop running—”

“Stop!” Eighty-seven shouted, putting all of them into silence. Rex’s brown eyes locked onto his. The other clones behind him did the same. So many eyes, all watching him. That alone was enough to make him crazy. “Just stop!”

His back pressed into the wall and slid down to the floor. His labored breathing rang through the stale air, his head throbbing with every breath.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered into his hands.

“We don’t either,” a new voice told him. They all sounded the same, but he could detect just slight differences in their voices. FN-2187 flicked his eyes up, catching more blood red armor, however this clone’s entire chestplate was red with stripes circling his left bicep.

The clone started to reach a hand out, but Eighty-seven flinched back with a glare. He didn’t do good with unwanted touch.

Rex crouched a bit away from him, gesturing for the others to do the same. They all lowered themselves, and FN-2187 no longer felt crowded.

“So let’s start with your name,” Rex prompted when no one else spoke.

His eyes bounced all around at the clones, noting all their minute differences. “FN-2187,” he said softly to them. And apparently he said something wrong because their brows furrowed or anger flashed dangerously in their irises. He lowered his head, expecting a hit.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eighty-seven,” Echo greeted him with a soft smile.

He didn’t return it. “You’re all mad,” he noted out loud.

“Not mad, verd’ika,” a man with burgundy and brown paint. “It’s your number. But names are good too.”

FN-2187 shook his head. “Names are not good. They get us killed.”

“Okay,” Rex said, like soothing a child. FN-2187 hated being coddled. “You obviously have questions so ask them.”

“How come I couldn’t touch you?” he asked first.

“We’re ghosts,” the gray clone responded, a dry and sarcastic tone cutting through unwillingly. “But we’ve never been able to touch a single person since we all died, let alone speak to them.”

So he wasn’t mistaken. All these clones were ghosts of some kind. And he could see them. “I’m gonna die,” he whispered to the ceiling.

A hand landed on his knee, squeezing tight to get his attention. He weighed the risk and let the hand stay but readied himself to bat it off.

The older clone with red armor was the owner of the hand. “You are not going to die,” he murmured to him, almost parental if FN-2187 had to guess, seeing as he’s never had that tone directed to him.

“I’m speaking to dead people,” he deadpanned. “They will kill me.” He let his head drop to the wall, irritating the wound on his skull. “If you’re even real in the first place.”

“We can leave you alone,” Rex suggested softly. But Eighty-seven could read the curiosity on the man’s face. 

“So you’re all dead,” he said bluntly, pulling a few smiles and smirks from the men. “And you fought in the Clone Wars obviously.” He got nods. “Why…are you ghosts?” No one had an answer, all looking at each other for guidance. Perfect.

Fives coughed “We can’t answer that one.”

“What do you want?” he asked next, needing to find a motive from the clones.

“Nothing,” many of them responded, that look returning to their eyes.

“Then why are you here?” Why did they choose him? Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist, just stories from a childhood that he never had. “Shouldn’t you be in whatever afterlife you believe in?”

“Trust us, we’d be in the halls of Manda if it was up to us,” a gruff voice came from Rex’s left. His armor was more bulky with bright orange designs. “But we’re here, and for some reason you can see us.”

He took a shaky breath, too many things spinning in his head. “So what? I’m just stuck with you for the rest of my life?” Sounded like a larger burden than he wished. All his life had been was the First Order. Training as a soldier since birth. It wasn’t an option. It was survival.

“Some of us do not choose to be projections,” Rex explained quietly. “They’re just waiting until we can pass onto Manda.”

He lifted his head, chin resting on his knee. “What is that?”

The man with longer hair, half of it pulled back from his tattooed face, and black armor cocked his head to the side. “Our heaven. Afterlife. Whatever term you prefer. But we want nothing from you, verd’ika. Say the word and we’ll leave you alone.”

FN-2187 tilted his head back. His comm chimed on his wrist, a transmission he hadn’t been expecting. He frowned, reading the message before sighing. Tipping his head back, he counted to ten inside of his head before he exploded.

“You get summoned?” Maroon armor caught his eye.

“Infiltration training,” he muttered, already feeling the pulsing in his head. This was turning out to be a long day. He stood up, relying on the wall to keep him steady.

A few sounds of disapproval rang out. It made him pause, slowly glancing back at them.

“You’re injured ,” one of them snapped but he couldn’t even tell who at this point.

He gave a barking laugh. “Would you rather me get sent to the restricted sector?”

They all froze, going pale at the very thought. Horrors flashed in their eyes, words on the tips of their tongues.

Guess they know what that entails. Or they’ve witnessed something similar.

He sighed. “No jokes. Got it.”

They moved out of his way, letting him pass by without disapproval. He doubted this would be the end of anything with the clones of the GAR. Or whatever they called themselves now.

…

FN-2187 felt ready to drop dead on the ground after twelve straight hours of training. It had truly been infiltration training…for about two hours. Then they did pt for five and live-round sims for another three.

So much pain radiated through him as he approached the barracks with every single step. So much so he’d forgotten about his morning until he glanced down the hall opposite of the barracks.

The clone with gray paint propped his shoulder on the wall, intense eyes staring into his soul. “Your choice. Make it now.” He stood near the only empty barracks FN-2187 knew of.

He could read it through the harsh words. Either he could speak to the clones or they would never approach him again, giving him peace. He’d be dumb to talk to them, so he walked to the door.

But a whisper poked at him in his mind. Begging him to see the clones. As if something in his chest yearned for them.

He stopped in the hallway, face screwing up as he fought with his body. His feet wanted to move him back to the clones while his mind screamed to stay put. Then it started yelling at him to move. Too much disconnect.

Giving a sharp groan to the ceiling, he marched back down the hall.

The man gave him a smirk as he approached. “Good choice.” He gestured for Eighty-seven to walk through the blast doors.

He was met with all the same clones as before.

Before they discussed anything, he asked for their names. So many spun inside of him but he grasped them decently.

He pressed his thumbs into his temples, sitting with his legs crossed on the empty bunk. “So I’m the first person you’ve ever spoken to as ghosts. You can’t leave this palace for some reason. I’m the only one you can touch, but I can’t touch you ,” he ran through all the information, glancing at all of them.

Alpha-17 smirked. “He pays attention,” he purred.

“Have you’ve always been ghosts since you…” it felt awkward to say the word.

“Yes,” Ordo said gently. He had to have been one of the original clones, Eighty-seven determined. “We were attached to certain clones, watching them until they died as well. But they were never aware of our presence, not even the Jedi.”

Now that was finally a term he knew. In his studies as a child, he learned about different types of warfare, and Jedi were one of them. And the First Order hated them. He’d been raised to hate them. “You fought with the Jedi?” Nods went around. FN-2187 ducked his head. Damn. Things were starting to unravel.

Bacara had a wicked grin, kicking his legs out as he sat on a bunk, leaning against the wall. “I knew there had to be propaganda. It wouldn’t be the Empire without it.”

Boss narrowed his eyes on the man. “First Order, vod.” He received a middle finger from the man.

FN-2187 noticed how they interacted and it wasn’t like soldiers. At least not like any soldier he’d seen before. They laughed with each other, some offered physical affection to others, and they had a bond, something he couldn’t quite place.

FN-2187 found himself looking at Rex, drawn to him. Rex gave him a sad smile. “What were you taught, verd’ika?”

“That they stole children from their parents,” he answered. “They were powerful and cruel generals. That you could be just as cruel.”

A groan came from Gree. “Couldn’t they be original?”

A few others hushed him, turning back to FN-2187. He’d never felt so much attention from other living beings before…well dead beings.

“Do you want the truth?” Cody asked him. At his confusion, he added, “You’re calling the shots here. It’s your choice.”

That had him freezing up. Anytime he’d been given a choice, there was always a hidden answer. And he typically got fried for it. But he gave a jerky nod.

“The Jedi weren’t perfect.” Ponds crossed his legs over one another, sitting on the floor near Wolffe. “Not even mine. But their culture is seen as cold and detached if you haven’t lived alongside them.”

Wolffe worked his jaw before speaking. “They were some of the first beings to treat us like people, like we mattered . And we’ve never forgotten that.”

FN-2187 tried to imagine it instead of monsters with lightsabers. It was a hard thing to do.

“As for the baby snatching,” Grey’s voice had a twinge of anger, “that’s not how it worked. Force sensitive children were identified but only taken to the temple if your parents agreed.”

“Force sensitive,” he played with the words.

The others noticed he got stuck.

Cody leaned forward. “The Force surrounds all living things. But sometimes, the Force sometimes allows individuals to utilize it. Make a connection with them. It floods them. They can be trained to use it and live by the will of the Force.”

He wrinkled his nose. “So…magic?”

Hunter gave a barking laugh. “Thank you, verd’ika.”

Cody snorted a laugh as well. “If that makes it easier then sure.”

“How many of you are there?” he asked, slightly suspicious.

“3 million,” Colt said, “give or take.”

FN-2187 slowly fell back onto the bed, giving an elongated groan that sounded childish to his own ears. He felt his skin warm at the chuckles that graced his ears. 

“But remember that not all of them will show themselves to you.”

FN-2187 nodded. “Less names to remember,” he said, dragging his hands down his face. Then winced with the motion.

“Patrol will be starting soon,” Neyo commented quietly.

That was his cue to leave. But his body protested as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, head spinning. He heard worried whispers going around.

“Do they always push you that hard?” Bacara had a pissed off gleam in his eyes.

He tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Only when we’ve pissed them off.” Then averted his gaze. “Which we tend to do.”

“You broken?” Wolffe asked him.

“No more than usual,” he muttered. He tried to escape the room, but Rex was quicker, holding onto him. For once, he didn’t flinch, too tired to do so. He felt the man’s stare, refusing to let up. “I’m fine,” he said softly to him. He was released to go about his business.

That night his dreams were filled with screaming and more flashes of light. He jerked awake, silent as he did so. It took a minute to calm down before falling back asleep. His dreams were still the same.

…

FN-2187 busied himself with disassembling his rifle, sitting on his bunk. He’d be using the weapon in the range later and didn’t want to give his trainers an excuse to punish him. He took a rag to the small bits first once it laid out on his bunk, cleaning off the ozone and grease.

And when he looked up, he flinched at the five clones sitting around the room. Echo and Fives were among them but that’s where his knowledge stopped.

Sixty-three snuffled in his sleep, tossing onto his other side.

FN-2187 glared at the clones. “Really?” he whispered.

Fives smiled at him. “Hi there. We’re bored.”

Eighty-seven scoffed, refocusing on his task. But he didn’t mind their presence. He…liked having people around them even if they were ghosts. Between assembling parts, he stole glances at the clones. One of them had a large tattoo of a quadrant of his head and face, one had two blue geometric lines across his skull, and the third had long hair pulled back from his face, a small teardrop on his cheek FN-2187 nearly missed. But he didn’t miss one thing.

The clone was young even by his standards. His eyes, though shadowed with memories, still glimmered with innocence. He didn’t look any different from the others, maybe a slightly rounder face but his bulk showed his experience. Something just told Eighty-seven the clone was just a teenager. Younger than him.

He finished with his rifle, the final mechanism sliding into place with a click. “Are you bored often?” he asked softly to not disturb his sleeping squadmate.

The clones lit up, trying to hide their smiles. 

“Most of the time yes,” the younger one spoke, his voice softer around the edges. “You can only talk to your vode for so many years before you want to talk to someone else. I’m Tup.”

Another word he didn’t understand but had heard before. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Can we come closer?” the one with the large tattoo asked.

Eighty-seven debated it then nodded, trying to give a smile.

They walked, a few of them giving playful shoves which shocked him. All the shoves he’s received in the past had malice behind it. They made themselves comfortable on the bunk next to his. He blinked when he saw Echo practically on top of Fives when Tup dragged close to Fives’ side. The younger clone leaned into the touch, almost craving it. But the tattooed clone kept to himself, arms around his chest as he leaned on the wall with his legs drawn up.

FN-2178 noticed their armor, all the same shade of ocean blue. “Blue,” he whispered, “like Rex.”

“Jesse?” Echo prompted with a smile.

The tattooed clone looked his way, shadows slipping away. “Rex is our captain.”

The other clone with blue ink jabbed him in the side. “Hey, put some respect on the good commander’s name.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “He was a commander for a week. But fine, he’s our commander. Since we’re in his battalion, we needed to be identifiable on the field so our armor is blue. The Wolfpack is gray because of Wolffe.”

“Your paint is all different,” he murmured, messing with his rifle to make it look less suspicious.

Fives turned his head to the side, a sad smile forming once again. “It’s weird for you, isn’t it?”

Eighty-seven ducked his head, feeling an unknown feeling in his chest appear. He nervously nodded, hoping it wasn’t the wrong answer.

“Damn, you’re really brainwashed, aren’t you?”

That had FN-2187 flinching.

“Hardcase,” Tup hissed at the older man.

Hardcase tossed his hands up. “It’s the truth.” He sighed at the disappointed glares his way. “Okay, okay. Yes, our paint is different. Being clones, it’s hard enough to have some identity and individuality. Paint and tattoos was our way of doing that.”

Eighty-seven’s comm chimed in warning. He pulled himself off the bunk with his blaster. Sixty-three already pulled himself off the bunk and trudged to the door.

Jesse gave him an understanding smile. “Want us to wait here?”

FN-2187 hated how desperate his nod was. As he walked out the door, all he could think about was finishing with training as soon as possible.

…

He could feel his trainer's eyes on him as she walked up and down the range.

His blaster work wasn’t terrible. Sure, Eighty-seven shots were as good as Sixty-three or Nines, but he hit the target and he had decent grouping of his shots.

But then they had to switch to pistols, SE-44C models. He prepared for more shocks in the restricted sector that night.

It didn’t go terribly…but not great. He missed a couple stray shots, there was no semblance of grouping. Just lucky shots.

He felt breath at the back of his neck through the gaps in his armor. His trainer gave a disapproving hum. “Fix it,” she snapped and that was it. No critique, no correction, just an order that he didn’t know how to follow.

To be fair, none of them did great except for a handful of them. So they were all dismissed with a lecture from the trainer about being disappointed before they walked out the door. Nothing they weren’t used to.

He walked shoulder to shoulder with his squadmates, heading to the mess. They ate silently which wasn’t new either. Most of the time they didn’t interact with each other.

The affair was over quickly as FN-2187 scarfed down his rations before leaving. He felt the growing tension between some of the troopers and didn’t want to be around when a fight inevitably broke out.

 The hallways were empty of any trooper walking, giving him a moment of peace and silence, but he found himself growing bored of the quiet as he walked.

The lights were dim as he entered and he froze at the sight. Tup was still present but instead of Jesse and the others of Rex’s clones, sat two other clones all with different colored armor. But they all had the same innocence still in them—teenagers.

Tup smiled at him as he approached. “How was training?” he asked in a kind voice.

FN-2187 snorted. “What do you think?” His armor hit the crowd with a dull thud. He unclipped his boots and rolled onto his bunk.

The two other clones had many questions in their eyes. He imagined all the clones had heard the news, having it spread like a damn wildfire between all of them.

He frowned, gesturing to the boy with gray paint. “You one of Wolffe’s?” He recalled the sharp smile the man had and the teen possessed the same one.

“I’m Comet. And yes, I’m in his battalion.”

FN-2187 looked to the other. “I can’t tell the difference between Bly and Cody sometimes.”

He had a soft laugh, something that warmed Eighty-seven from the inside. He noted the small medic insignia on his shoulder plate. “I’m with Cody. And you’re not the first person to get us confused. But I’m Wooley.”

He just laid there as their voices washed over him. They never pushed him to talk, carrying the conversation themselves. They mentioned battles and war zones that he’d never heard of but they also talked about the good times they remembered. 

But something had him brewing thoughts inside of his already spinning mind. “You’re so comfortable with each other.”

“We’re brothers-in-arms,” Comet replied easily, knocking shoulders with Tup to pull a soft smile from him. “Some of us are closer than others and with different relationships throughout the army, but we’ll always be brothers.”

“Why?” He flinched at his own question.

The teenagers tried not to show anything on their faces.

“Because we were all we had,” Tup leaned further into Comet’s space. The other clone put an arm around his shoulders. “And we respected and loved our Jedi, but we have a bond that can’t be broken.”

It was enough to make him fall asleep with wandering thoughts about a bond like that, and this time he didn’t dream.

Two weeks passed.

Within that time he met more clones, not many because the commanders didn’t want him to be overwhelmed. But he noticed how all of them seemed to avoid saying something around him. It made his stomach twist, wanting to trust them but something just didn’t feel right.

And unfortunately his thoughts swimming around the clones distracted him enough to get him body-slammed on the ground, feeling something crack in the process.

“You ever going to stop letting your ass get kicked?” Colt asked from the sidelines with some of the other commanders. They’d just stood there, watching him get his ass handed to him.

FN-2187 glared in his direction through his visor before rolling on the ground out of the way. Nines just wouldn’t quit.

He threw a few punches here and there but for the most part he let Nines take control of their movements.

“Eighty-seven,” one of the clones said, FN-2187 figured it was Ordo or Rex, almost disappointed as he took a punch to the side.

“Well fuck ,” he hissed. Now he was pissed. He wrapped his leg around Nines’ before pushing him back with his hands on his chest plate, his leg keeping him anchored and unable to shift his weight.

They both hit the floor since Nines latched onto him. FN-2187 just went limp, allowing it to happen. He grappled with the larger man but found himself on his back, unable to move away from him.

He couldn’t help but glance at the commanders who watched. He tried to convey that he needed some fucking help here, but they just gave him blank stares.

Bacara shook his head. “Can’t fight your battles for you, verd’ika!” he shouted over all the commotion in the room.

FN-2187 rolled his eyes. Fine.

He managed to wedge a knee between their bodies and push with all the strength he had. Nines barely budged. With a yell of frustration, he tried again and Nines’ grip slipped away from him. FN-2187 kicked a leg out, nailing him in the head.

Nines fell back, dazed.

Eighty-seven got to his feet, calming his rapid breathing. Then he was knocked from behind. This was meant to be one-on-one.

In his confusion, he tried to fight but nothing could be done when his arms were pinned behind his back and his helmet was knocked loose. A vibroblade found its way near his throat, sending him limp on the ground. The clones whispered amongst each other.

“Enough, let him up,” one of his trainers ordered with a bored tone.

FN-2187 pushed himself up off the ground. Fifty-one had been the one to tackle him, giving him a one-shouldered shrug as an apology, easily getting to her feet.

The man stared down at Eighty-seven who stayed on his knees. “Just because you win a battle doesn't mean you get to dick around. Constantly be aware of your surroundings or you’ll be dead. Even if you had been able to fight off Fifty-one, Nines would’ve recovered in time to make the kill himself should he had chosen to do so.” He glanced around the room. “Get out of my face, all of you.”

FN-2187 shuffled alongside his squadmates, feeling irritation prickle under his skin. He took a different hallway until he found himself in the empty barracks that they had taken over for his conversations with the clones.

“A warning could’ve fucking helped,” he muttered as the door slipped shut, the remaining commanders just phasing through.

Wolffe put his hands on his hips, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “That defeats the point of training.”

Bacara tossed his hands up. “Like I said, we can’t fight your battles,” he said as Eighty-seven sat down. “This might not be a permanent situation, and I refuse to let you be a scrub on the battlefield.”

Cody gave his fellow commander a soft push. “What he means to say is that we can help you in your own time but when it comes to sparing or sims, we won’t be helping.”

FN-2187 pulled a face.

“Don’t pout like a ik’aad,” Alpha-17 warned, making him fix his face.

He groaned at the use of the language he still didn’t understand. “I’m not pouting . I’m frustrated,” he hissed out.

Doom scratched at his stubble. “But his trainers are still terrible. He can’t put all the blame on him.”

He gave a fake smile. “Why thank you,” he snarked.

Rex gave him a warning look that had him falling silent, looking at his lap. The man gave a large sigh. “It’s up to you, verd’ika. This choice is yours.”

FN-2187 didn’t like this. His life had been following order after order, never allowing to think for himself. So he just stared at the clone dead in the face.

“Fucking broke him,” Thorn muttered.

Eighty-seven wanted to say what he wanted. But it went against the First Order. Everything he did was against them at this point, conversing with the enemy even if they were dead and had no power. He just decided to ignore that detail. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Good, but you can’t complain when we kick your ass.” Blitz had a devilish smirk that promised trouble.

He glanced at Cody. “I’m going to regret this.”

The man just laughed, shaking his head to himself.

They all fell silent and it shifted into something FN-2187 couldn’t place. His mind formed a question for him, one he’d never thought of asking before. His mind pleaded for him to ask it.

When he looked up, the commanders were already looking at him. Like they were waiting for his question. It made him nervous.

“Come on, verd’ika,” Ordo prompted. “Just ask.”

He took a breath, finding himself once again looking to the 501st commander…captain…whatever. Rex had overtaken the place of his commanding officer in his mind, the first one to truly interact with him. The man dipped his head, eyes lacking their usual warmth.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked timidly, much like the child they saw him as at points.

They stiffened up, masks falling over their faces. He realized he hadn’t really been talking to the commanders of the GAR. Now he was.

“You’re not ready,” Ordo responded irritatingly simple.

Eighty-seven messed with his hands, trying not to get angry. “How come you get to decide that?” he posed the question gently, hoping it wouldn’t come across as insubordinate.

Alpha-17 shifted his weight, arms over his chest. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” he replied, a near whisper. “I think.”

He shouldn’t have added that last part. They all muttered harsh words in their shared language to each other or to the floor. He ducked his head.

Rex sat in front of him, given away by the blue that drew FN-2187’s gaze. He waited for a few seconds before reaching out with a slow hand. Eighty-seven traced the movement until the scarred hand lifted his chin.

“You’re young, Eighty-seven,” the man explained gently. “You’re isolated and don’t understand how the galaxy works.”

“But I want to learn,” he begged the man. He tried to reach for him but as soon as they touched, FN-2187’s hand just went right through his arm. It caused them both to pause for a moment.

“It’s not fair to you,” he argued, that parental tone returning (at least that's what he thought it was). “We’d be no better than…” he fought with himself for a moment before continuing, “If we just told you, it would manipulate you into doing it. We don’t want that. We want it to be your decision because that is a courtesy you’ve been robbed of your entire life.”

They both went still when FN-2187 leaned into his hand. Just a bit. Rex’s breath hitched, pursing his lips.

“How will I know when?” he implored.

Ordo came up behind Rex, tall and steady. “You’ll know. You just have to trust us.”

“I do trust you,” he said to him.

Neyo narrowed his eyes. “Then you’ll just have to wait.”

FN-2187 knew he wouldn’t be winning this fight, not with so many of them ganging up on him. He gave a dejected nod into Rex’s hand. The 501st commander pulled his hand away a moment later. “Can you at least tell me what the hell you people are saying half the time?” he asked, hoping it would lighten up their tense moods.

Hunter hummed. “Huh, I guess we never noticed.”

Alpha-17 snorted. He walked closer, making himself comfortable on the bunk right near Ordo who also sat down. Ordo flicked him on the head as Alpha-17 purposely brushed up against him like a loth cat. “It’s called Mando’a. It comes from the planet Mandalore.”

FN-2187 frowned, having vague memories of the system. “Where Death Watch originated?” The clones blinked and gaped at him, causing him to huff. “I know some things, thank you very much.”

“Udesii, verd’ika,” Bacara drawled with a smirk. FN-2187 just glared at him.

All of them glanced at Ordo, waiting for him to take over. He just blinked back at them before rolling his eyes. “Dicks, making me do the history lesson.”

Wolffe extended an arm out with his palm up in pure exasperation. “You were fucking raised Mandalorian. By Jango and Kal.”

Alpha-17 raised his brows at the Wolfpack commander. “So were you, kih’vod.”

“Bite me,” the man muttered, going silent.

Eighty-seven ignored most of the interaction but saved those two names away for later, patiently waiting for Ordo to continue.

“Being Mandalorian isn’t necessarily your biological heritage,” the man began with, all of them looking at him. FN-2187 could easily forget about where he was, who he was fighting for, and his inevitable time on the battlefield just listening to Ordo’s voice. “It’s a way of life. Having the essence of a Mandalorian if you will. We also have Mando’a as a language. I was taught it by our template, Jango Fett, who was taught by his father when he’d been adopted into a Mandalorian clan. My squad and I passed it onto the Alphas,” he gestured to the man beside him, “and they passed it onto their cadets and so on. No clone left Kamino without knowing the language…our language.”

“Is Jango the one that created you?”

The room shifted once again, memories clouding them up. He felt his own muscles tense up.

“No,” Ordo sighed, voice down a few notches. “The Kaminoans were the one that created us from his DNA.”

“So your father?” FN-2187 figured that was the case.

Cody shook his head. “Eighty-seven, we’re exact copies of him. His clones. Not his sons.”

His brow furrowed. “But he trained you, raised you as Mandalorians,” he said, directing his last statement to Ordo.

All of them glanced around, trying to find the words to describe their obviously complicated relationship with Jango Fett.

Bacara spoke first. “He may not have been our father, but we weren't expendable in his eyes.”

Then Cody. “We don’t think he fully thought it through when signing the contract. That he would form an attachment to children that looked just like him. Things changed once he started training the Nulls and then us.”

Ordo waited for FN-2187 to glance his way. “Jango Fett was an imperfect man. Vicious and cruel to some but he cared about us the best way he could—keeping us alive.”

FN-2187 mulled over his words. His heart ached…yearning for something like that when the days got dark in the facility.

“Get to the mess,” Ponds softly suggested. “You don’t have much time left.”

FN-2187 walked to the door but paused before the sensor. Glancing over his shoulder, he only had one more question. “The name that you call me. What does it mean?”

Rex wore a smile that bordered on pride. “Little soldier, Eighty-seven.”

FN-2187 had to walk out the door before he’d throw himself at the man.

Chapter Text

Eighty-seven glared at the target as he finished firing off his rounds. Still as shitty as the last time.

Since he was alone in the range, Alpha-17 stepped up behind him with a sigh. “Do you know why you can’t aim for shit?”

Normally, FN-2187 would flinch at the harsh tone, going submissive to avoid a hit, but he felt comfortable with the gruff man. Sure, he could be a mean bastard but at least he knew Alpha would give him constructive criticism.

“It’s because your grip is absolute osik,” he said. “raise your hands.”

Eighty-seven gripped his pistol, raising it to his target but kept his finger off the trigger.

The man grumbled, placing his hands overtop of FN-2187. “I’ve seen ik’aade with a stronger grip than yours. Squeeze it like you mean it.”

He obeyed, his bare hands feeling the groves of the metal and plastiod.

“When you have a weak grip, the barrel is going to move a shit ton, even if you’re steady. Or you flinch. That’s why your shots are going everywhere. Now do it again correctly this time. Squeeze the grip. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

FN-2187 took a breath and released it, focusing on the small target. His finger rested over the trigger and he squeezed like instructed. One shot went off. He pulled again until five marks appeared, all around the center point writhing inches of each other.

Seventeen bobbed his head side to side. “Not bad.”

A groan came from the door behind them. FN-2187 glanced over his shoulder, smiling at the newcomer.

“Would it kill you to give him a compliment?” Spar asked the other man. Eighty-seven had learned that the two of them loved to butt heads, finding entertainment in their arguments.

“I don’t do compliments,” Seventeen argued with a stern look leveled at his brother. “He can go to the CCs for that.”

Spar gave a fake pout to Eighty-seven, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry he’s a mean, old—-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” the other Alpha snapped then dropped his head back to the target. “Again.”

FN-2187 didn’t even think, just raising his eyes, locking onto his target and firing. He studied them—some improvement.

Spar clapped his shoulder, a sensation he’d never felt before, nearly sending him stumbling at the force behind it. “Not bad, kid.”

FN-2187 felt that same warm feeling bloom under his skin. Praise was thin and rare unless you were a favorite, and not even Nines had that privilege.

Seventeen nodded. “We’re done for the day. You’re tired.”

Eighty-seven straightened his posture. “I’m fine,” he argued. He needed to get better or else he’d fail. And if he failed…back to the restricted sector.

Both the Alphas leveled him stern looks.

Seventeen glared at him the same way he did the other commanders that he had trained. “No. We’re done,” he snapped. “We’re not letting you push yourself.”

FN-2187 didn’t want to be done. “My trainers push us anyway. Why is it so different?” it was a weak argument in his mind. He knew how the clone commanders expected the very best from their soldiers, so why was he different?

Spar shifted from foot to foot. “Eighty-seven,” no nicknames, damn, “we care about you. Hurting you or pushing you past your limits is something we’re not going to do.”

He didn’t understand once again. It showed all over his face because Seventeen stepped toward him.

“You’re done,” he decided, tone firm. “I will drag you on your shebs if I have to. Let's go.”

So FN-2187 walked out the door beside them, trying not to feel a weight press down on his chest. Graduation loomed over his head like a thunder cloud and he was improving but not at a fast enough rate. So he turned down the hall, breaking away from the two.

“Eighty-seven,” Spar called softly.

He waved them off over his shoulder. “I just need to think .” Without them.

He walked to the maintenance area and shouldered open a door. Tearing his helmet off, a soft breeze brushed against his face. He took a breath of fresh air.

He hadn’t been outside in so long. Technically he wasn’t even supposed to be out there, but he needed some space from the stale air of the facility.

Anxiety constantly crushed into him. Trying to hide the clones and worrying about his test scores was starting to wear him out.

His skin prickled, feeling eyes on him.

“You want to be alone?” Rex questioned lightly.

FN-2187 stared at the horizon. It was just a flat planet but the three small suns made a sunset scatter across the sky. His hands gripped the rail tightly as he shook his head. He’d been alone his whole life, and he didn’t want to be alone ever again, even if he was frustrated.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, voice closer.

Another shake.

“Okay, then I’m going to talk.” Rex stood next to him, resting his forearms on the rail. “I think this is too much for you, us being around you.”

Eighty-seven snapped to look at him, more anxiety rising.

Rex didn’t look at him, just the sky. “This is a lot for you, verd’ika. We’ve turned your life upside down, and eventually we’re going to be selfish and ask you to do something. It isn’t fair to you.”

FN-2187’s heart hurt inside of him. This gift, this blessing was about to be taken away. His mouth glued shut, unable to say what he wanted. And Rex still wasn’t looking at him.

“Maybe we should back away. Let you live .” Rex turned to him, his face morphing into many different emotions. He sighed, facing him with his hip propped on the rail. “I’m not a mind reader, ad’ika,” he soothed. “I need you to tell me.”

Words were never his strong suit. Eighty-seven wanted to reach for him but bit back the instinct. “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded, voice breaking in his own ears.

Rex’s brown eyes poured with affection, a soft smile teasing his lips. “If that’s what you want…”

Eighty-seven stepped closer. “Yes. Please.”

Rex hesitated before folding him into an embrace. Unable to hug him back, Eighty-seven just went lax in his arms. “Just a long day, huh?”

FN-2187 nodded against his shoulder.

“Then let's get you back to the barracks.”

He whined. “I’m not a child.”

Rex flicked him on the head. “Then stop arguing with me like one. Come on.”

He walked next to Rex, staying close in his space. The captain didn’t mind, letting their hands brush every once and a while.

“What’s an ik’aad?” he whispered to the blond.

Rex snorted then fixed his face. “A baby.” FN-2187 gaped at him, making him laugh, the sound echoing in the room. “Seventeen call you that I’m guessing?”

“Yes,” he hissed at the man.

The 501st trooper patted his shoulder. “Threats, gruffness, and snarkiness is his love language. But if you didn’t fight back so much…”

“Are you calling me a baby?” Eighty-seven teased.

Rex stayed silent, eyes forward but his smile told him what he needed to know.

They reached the barracks and Rex gave him a gentle push to the door. “Please actually sleep tonight.”

Eighty-seven muttered him a goodnight before entering the room.

…

A fleck of snow drifted past his eyes. Then another one. And more just kept falling, the moon lighting up the snow on the ground. He blinked in the snowfall. He’d never seen snow before.

His body fought to shiver in the cold air cutting through his clothes.

Clothes. Not armor. He could feel the softness of the material against his skin.

A hum of pure energy shuttered against his ear. Red bathed the snow and surroundings from behind his back. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t turn his head. The light just made him uneasy.

The sound just got closer to him, cracking in his ear. He wasn’t safe .

So he just started running.

“There's been an awakening…” a sinister voice echoed through the cold night as he rushed through the trees and snow.

The red light grew brighter as he ran. But then blue washed over as well. A sound of clashing rang in his ears, making him yelp.

“Have you felt it?”

The voice sent chills down his spine. He jumped over a boulder which made him stumble in his path.

“Your hatred, your anger…you want to kill me.”

Pain erupted in his spine, making him give out a scream. His back seized in white hot pain, making him hit the snow.

Bolts of lightning rained down upon him as he writhed in the snow. More screaming echoed in his ears and he curled up into a ball on the ground.

Strange sounds bashed in the air, the humming getting louder.

Another bolt lash went against his skin.

He felt hands touching him. Flinching, he batted them away.

“A thousand generations live in both of you now,” another man spoke, a gentle rasp whispered into his ear.

All he could do was stare at the snow as color clashed over his head. A battle of red and blue, one never holding the upper hand for long.

“But this is your fight.”

He clutched his head as pressure built up behind his skull, screaming once again.

“Eighty-seven, wake up,” a voice cut through his dreams.

He shot up in the bed, phasing through the clone sitting on his bunk. A strangled sound worked its way from his throat. He fought with the darkness of the room as his wrangled breathing echoed through it. 

“Shut up,” Sixty-one hissed from his bunk.

His hands fisted the thin sheets, staring down at his knees as his chest heaved.

“Come on, verd’ika,” that soothing voice returned, making him want to sob. “Out of the room.”

“Patrol,” he whispered with a tremble.

“It should be clear right now. I can’t help you in here.”

FN-2187 worked his way to his feet. He tried to walk on his own, but he could barely feel the ground. An arm looped around his waist, making him flinch.

“I know, I know,” the clone murmured but still urged him to move. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like this.”

The bright lights of the hallway had him slamming his eyes shut. Together they stumbled into the empty barracks, the lights thankfully off except for a few emergency lights in the corners.

Eighty-seven let out a sob now that they were in the safety of their room. He didn’t know when he started seeing it like that in his head.

Arms looped around his body and dragged him to a bunk. He froze as he was moved around, stiff as a board. Eventually, he was laying down with his hand pillowed on the clones’ leg with his back to the room, their armor gone. This was…new.

Through his wet lashes, he peered up at the man comforting him. Cody wasn't looking down at him, rather speaking to someone else in the room, but the commander stroked a hand over his dark hair. He’d never been so grateful that the Force or whatever it was called allowed him to feel their touch.

His head cramped up with pain. What the fuck is wrong with me ? A pained sound ripped from his throat, making his legs twitch as he tried to curl up.

“Oh, kih’vod,” Cody murmured, his other hand finding the place between his shoulder blades.

“Cody,” he sobbed the man’s name, not quite sure what he was asking for.

“Me’bana?” Ordo’s slight rasp filled the room.

“Ni nakar’mi,” Cody responded.

The continued to go back and forth in Mando’a until FN-2187 fisted his hand at Cody’s midsection. Or at least tried to because his hand went through him.

Both men ceased their conversation. Ordo sat near his hip, and Eighty-seven felt himself grow colder. Instead of warm body heat, the clones only made him shiver, but he’d be damned if he moved away.

“Kih’vod, what’s wrong?” Ordo asked him through the dark room, a hand appearing on his hip.

“I…It…” He broke off into another sob as his head hurt . Hurt like never before, making it hard to even hear the words they said to him, let alone try and speak.

“Okay, okay,” Cody said with a coo, holding his hands that clutched his head. “Squeeze.”

“I can’t!” he shouted. He could never touch them. Ever. Cursed to feel their touch, their comfort, and never reciprocate it.

Cody and Ordo glanced at each other over his head, regret falling across the 212th commander. They hugged him tighter, muttering different words in Mando’a to him. He caught only a few that he could translate.

“Me’bana?” This time, the question came from someone younger.

“Tup, he’s fine,” Cody whispered to the teen.

Eighty-seven didn’t have the strength to look at him.

“That doesn’t look fine,” a more snarky tone asked.

“Comet,” Ordo snapped. “This isn’t helping.”

FN-2187 felt the pain in his head loosen, making him go lax in the commander’s lap. This was mortifying now that he could finally think .

“Ad’ika, slana sur'eyi Fives.” Rex’s voice cut through. A calm sense went through his body at the sound of his voice.

“A buir—” Tup tried to speak but Rex cut him off.

“Tup, jii.” He waited a second before adding, “Comet, gedet’ye.”

FN-2187 couldn’t see the two teenagers leave from his position but the tension in the room dissipated.

“Verd’ika, what’s wrong?” Rex asked as he sat next to Cody.

Eighty-seven shifted on Cody’s leg, head turning up to all three of the men in view. A few more clones had to have been present in the room because of the whispers around. He let his eyes fall closed, utterly exhausted.

“You feeling better?” Ordo asked him, dropping into that sweet voice.

FN-2187 nodded slowly. “Lek,” he replied softly. On his own accord, he sat up, feeling woozy. Rex and Cody steadied him, having him lean against them.

He blinked, eyes adjusting to the room. Most of the commanders weren’t present, only a few and some clones from the battalions like Jesse, Waxer, Boil, Echo, and a few others.

“Do you need a medic?” Rex asked him, completely serious.

FN-2187 shook his head. “I feel better. Honestly. Sometimes I get like…this.” As a child, the medics never knew what to do, and he quickly learned it was better to keep quiet about it. If by some luck they didn’t decommission him for it, he would’ve been poked and prodded with needles and medications.

“Nightmares that make you nearly scream in pain?” Alpha-17 challenged.

Eighty-seven went quiet for a moment. “No but…migraines are normal for me.”

Cody lifted his chin with a finger. “But this has never happened before. Nightmares like this.”

FN-2187 shook his head, figuring it was better to not lie to them. “This was different,” he whispered, feeling tears come to him without permission. Rex tightened an arm around him.

“Tell us?” Bacara asked, the man surprisingly calm and neutral. He never expected it from the Marine.

“I heard voices,” he said, gauging everyone’s reaction around the dark room. “And I was in a  forest. It was snowing. And there were weird lights.”

None of the clones gave anything away, just nodding with understanding.

“But…I felt like my head was going to explode,” he whispered, feeling himself lean further into Cody and Rex without even meaning to. “I’ve never felt that before.”

“Could’ve been a coincidence, verd’ika. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” It sounded like something he was used to saying to try and soothe a shaky clone. Perhaps they all had experience comforting each other from throes of nightmares during war.

Eighty-seven worried with his hands. Something didn’t feel right in his heart. He jumped when someone started playing with his hair, but he relaxed into it a moment later.

“Do you not need sleep anymore?” he asked, slurring his words.

They chuckled at him, the room melting.

“Not really,” Neyo said. “Sure, we can close our eyes but that doesn't do shit.”

FN-2187 went in and out of sleep as the clones spoke with each other. Rex and Cody shifted him to lay down on the bunk. Rex stayed near him, getting comfortable against the wall near his head. If FN-2187 leaned two inches forward, he would’ve been pressing his head against Rex’s hip. He placed a hand on Eighty-seven’s nape, and he could barely feel the coldness anymore.

“What did Tup call you?” he asked Rex in a tired voice.

Rex ran his hand through his hair. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow if you would like to,” he answered as FN-2187’s eyes slipped closed.

Thankfully, he didn’t wake up screaming again that night.

…

Graduation was approaching quickly, more quickly than FN-2187 realized.

His skills had been improving with his time with the commanders. He would still get thrown on his ass plenty of times but he could last a lot longer and keep up in scores during mocks.

Eighty-seven hadn’t forgotten about that night with his dream or Tup and Comet entering the room. He hadn’t brought it up with the young troopers, not wanting to step on any toes because Tup had sounded terrified.

So he found a time with only a few clones present. The troopers didn’t really leave him by himself anymore. They constantly checked in to make sure he was okay with it, even as he slept, and he never asked them to leave. So as he messed with his rations on his tray, he said from the corner of his mouth, “Why was Tup upset that night?”

Rex debated with himself, arms folded on the table. Bacara nudged him in the side, making him shove right back. Wolffe snorted while Fives and Boil just smiled.

“Tup’s had a history with something similar. It terrified him, and he was worried about you.”

FN-2187 narrowed his eyes. He’d begun to learn their unique tones of voice and detecting small lies. “You’re leaving something out,” he whispered, thankful that his squadmates weren’t present.

“And we won’t be discussing it for a long time,” Bacara jumped in, surprising Eighty-seven. The man gave him a stern look. “And it’s not because of the other things we’re not discussing. It’s because it’s traumatizing for us to remember.”

FN-2187 swallowed hard. He wasn’t expecting that. What could've gone so wrong with Tup for it to rattle the entire army? He had another question, one he let show on his face.

Rex tapped the table. “Finish eating and we’ll talk.”

So he finished the rest of his tray then walked out of the mess. He walked into their room, settling on one of the bunks. He patiently waited for the clones to begin.

“What’s your question?” Fives asked.

“Why does Jesse seem so distant?” He’d noticed it multiple times, how the man would disengage so quickly. How he’d always look to his left like someone would be there.

The clones went silent, almost a mournful look falling on all of them.

“What I’m going to say to you may come across as strange,” Rex said slowly. “Jesse is distant because we’re missing someone.”

FN-2187 blinked at the others, not following what he was saying. Fives just gave him a reassuring smile.

“There’s one clone unaccounted for. Out of all 3 million of us, one clone is not with us. His name is Kix.”

Eighty-seven frowned. “Couldn’t he still be alive?” Maybe he could find him, bring them back together in some sense.

“It’s highly unlikely at this point,” Wolffe gruffly said.

Rex sighed, getting back on track. “But Jesse misses him the most because they were riduure…married.”

There came the confusion. He thought it about and some things weren’t clicking. “Forgive my ignorance but isn’t that like…sleeping with yourself?”

They all gave amused huffs.

Bacara took over. “Marriage isn’t just about fucking…well, for some people. And most of the time, clones that married each other weren’t in it for that. It’s more an emotional connection, like they couldn’t live without them in their lives.”

Rex reiterated with, “It’s a promise to stay by each other’s side no matter what. Not just a physical thing.” FN-2187 was starting to understand, giving a nod. The captain jerked his chin to Fives. “For all intensive purposes, we’re married at this point.”

He glanced between the two of them, jaw slightly slack. “Seriously?”

They nodded. Fives shrugged a shoulder. “With our history, yes. And we took care of Tup together when he came into Torrent, our squad.”

EIghty-seven crossed his legs, leaning forward. “So you all love each other like brothers-in-arms and some are just…more.”

Waxer nodded, leaning into Boil’s side. “And sometimes it’s not even like the romantic sense with riduure. We see each other as aliit—family.”

That word just felt right inside of FN-2187’s chest. “And that’s what you are to Tup,” he glanced back to Fives and Rex. “You’re his family in every sense.”

They had sappy looks on their faces. “Yes,” Rex whispered. “Same with Wolffe and his pack. And the same with so many other squads in the GAR.”

Eighty-seven relaxed now that everything had been explained, but still felt horrible for Jesse. “Is there any way we can communicate better than me whispering?” he questioned. It stressed him out trying to converse with them without alerting the entire room.

Boil hummed. “Could always teach him ARC signs,” he suggested to the others.

Wolffe nodded. “Could work. And most of us know them anyway.”

“What are ARC signs?” Eighty-seven asked once he found a break in the conversation.

Boil kicked his feet up, stretching out on the bunk he sat on. “ARC stands for advanced recon commandos. And all these di’kute have that training. The best of the best.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes. “Just keep whining. In the beginning, it was only ARC training for all of us. Then Jango and the Cuy’val Dar, the trainers he had chosen, realized there were too many of us so ARCs became specialized to command clones and anyone chosen. And in order to communicate more efficiently, we learned shortened sign language.”

Rex knocked his boot with Eighty-seven, pulling a soft smile from him. “Do you want to learn?”

FN-2187 eagerly nodded.

They sat there for a few hours, teaching him the basics. By the end, FN-2187 could communicate everything he needed to, some including “go away”, “stop”, “help” and a few other basic signs.

A few more clones popped in and out of their room, a couple new armor designs among them. Eighty-seven was always surprised by the amount of kindness they treated him with.

Another question popped into his head as the room just got more populated. “How old are all of you?”

Rings of laughter came out.

A’den, Ordo’s youngest squadmate, gave him a teasing smile. “That’s a loaded question verd’ika.” Then he glanced around. “How do we even explain this one?”

A couple of the younger troopers scoffed at him. “You are quite literally one of the oldest vod.”

The man batted a hand through the air. “Little shits.” He looked back at Eighty-seven. “We had accelerated aging until we hit biologically ten years old. And then we age normally. So we have to do a bit of math when answering.”

FN-2187 looked down at his lap. Now, he had questions about himself. No one ever told the recruits their ages—it gave them too much power over their identity.

“Hey,” Comet said, getting his attention. The teen gave him a soft smile that bordered on pity. “Stop thinking so hard.”

FN-2187 rolled his eyes at the boy, someone he was beginning to see as a friend. “Whatever,” he muttered, a smile pulling at him.

His comm beeped at him, making the conversations in the room stop. His heart started pounding in his ribcage.

“Me’bana?” A’den asked him softly.

FN-2187 swallowed heavily. “Integration training tomorrow at 0600.” His voice didn’t sound like his own.

The life was sucked out of the room. The clones shared nervous looks.

Eighty-seven pressed his head into his hands. “Fuck. They’re going to find out.” The shaking started in his limbs, a sign of his panic over taking him.

“Hey, hey,” Fives said, laying a hand on his knee. “You’ve got this. Nothing is going to happen.”

Eighty-seven fisted the top of his undershirt. “They’re going to poke around inside of my head,” he whispered.

Jesse leaned forward, gaining his attention. The man had memories dancing in his eyes. “They’re not force users, kih’vod. There is nothing they can just take outside of your head.”

Eighty-seven brought his knees up to his chest but allowed Fives to reposition his hand to still make contact. “But…” A scared noise left him.

A jumble of soothing sounds and murmurs reached his ears. A few of the troopers climbed in next to him, surrounding him from all sides. He calmed him a bit.

“When was the last time you’ve gone through this?” Tup whispered in his ear.

“A year ago,” FN-2187 answered. It was a terrible time he didn’t want to remember. “But now I have all of you and…” He couldn’t explain it. He relaxed at the hand on his nape, sighing at the touch.

“And you’re worried,” Sinker finished for him.

Eighty-seven nodded. They understood . He tried to grip the hand on his thigh, but he grasped nothing.

“What do I do?” he whispered in the bubble of safety.

“You clear your mind, you grit your teeth, and you don’t let them see you break,” Alpha-17 spoke fiercely.

FN-2187 already felt the sting of a hypo entering his skin, the drugs flooding his system. The pain he would feel.

Havoc tapped under his chin. “You do not break, understand us? Don’t give them that satisfaction.”

He felt all the blood rush away from his face. “I’ve never not broken,” he admitted nervously. “It’s partially why my trainers hate me.”

“Pick something inside of your head, a phrase, a number, something,” Wolffe said, gentle as much as he could. “And you just repeat that in your head until you’re done. You don’t think about us or anything else. Just be blank.”

Fives squeezed him close into his side when he shivered at the thought. “Maybe not the best thing to say,” he muttered to the commander, protectiveness leaking into his voice. “But he does have a point.”

Rex gave him that same soft look he always did. “Don’t even let your mind stray to the thought of us. Because it’s going to hurt and you’re going to want someone beside you. But we can’t do that until you walk back into this room.”

This put a lot of pressure on him. And the clones weren’t even worried about the First Order finding out about them, only if FN-2187 felt safe afterwards.

“We know you’re scared,” Echo whispered to him.

Eighty-seven stayed awake the rest of the night, unable to fall asleep with the nerves attacking him no matter how much the men begged him to do so.

His comm link barked at him at 0545, signalling for him to start moving. Bile crawled into his throat as he glanced around.

Cody shook his head. “ Don’t ,” he said. “Don’t walk in with that look on your face. They will eat you alive.”

FN-2187 fixed his face at the snapped order, and Cody deflated, realizing his harshness. He walked to the door, feeling the cold air of a ghost stuck to his side.

Alpha-17 crossed his arms over his chest, biting at his lip with narrowed eyes as he tried to come up with what to say. “I refuse to coddle you. I just won’t do it. But I need you to understand that you are stronger than you think you are, in so many ways.”

Eighty-seven didn’t believe him but he didn’t say that out loud.

“We’ll be here when you’re ready,” the man ended with a whisper.

…

The walls blurred together as the drugs still went through his system. His throat burned, the number of screams he let out melting together. He sat just outside of the restricted sector hallway, back against the wall, listening to the faint buzzing of the lights.

His skin felt like it was one fire. All his senses firing at once. And he swore he heard voices echoing in the hallways.

Not a soul or ghost walked down the hallway, leaving him to assume he’d been the last one standing out of his squad.

They’d been given a code to memorize before entering the integration rooms. He didn’t break. He didn’t expose the ghosts that followed him around. And he didn’t say how he was beginning to see discrepancies within the First Order.

He had tapped the code into the datapad before stumbling out of the room, released from his hell.

His body and mind hurt equally. He just wanted the clones.

Once his body was steady enough, he walked through the halls, relying on memorization to get him to the barracks sector.

But something screamed at him to walk into his squadmates' barracks. Tapping in the code, the doors opened, and he groaned at the sound it produced, grating against his ears.

His squadmates were either passed out on their beds or sitting on the floor, trying to not lose their minds.

But Seventy-seven had him concerned. His tan skin was pale with sweat glistening on his brow. And his shallow and uneven breathing didn’t look good.

FN-2187 blinked rapidly as he made his way to the man’s side. Pressing his fingers to the side of his neck, he could barely feel a pulse. Then the sporadic jerks started to set in.

“Comm a medic,” he ordered Sixty-three since he was the only one lucid enough to do so. The man just glared. “Fucking do it, asshole! He’s seizing!”

A medic rushed in a few minutes later, evaluating Seventy-seven who’s seizure fully set in.

Eighty-seven didn’t have the energy for this anymore. He wanted to pass out in the safety of the room or throw up everything in his stomach. Probably both.

He walked out of the room, walking a few feet to the next door. The doors opened, not needing a code.

That’s when his tears started to well up, pain in his body becoming too much.

All the heads snapped up at his entrance, a look of relief falling on all of them. FN-2187 let out a sob.

Someone swept him into their arms, pulling him further into the room as his knees went weak. 

“We’ve gotcha, kih’vod,” Ponds said to him. “It’s okay now.”

FN-2187 felt shaky, the drugs still coursing through him. His stomach flipped, making him pause.

Whoever held onto him changed directions, leading him to the side door that led to the refresher. Eighty-seven was deposited at the sink, hands clutching the counter with his eyes closed.

“Just keep breathing,” Fives murmured to him. FN-2187 caught sight of him in the mirror and Rex standing in the background.

Eighty-seven doubled over, retching into the sink as he finally lost it. Bile and acid burned his throat as his stomach cramped. Fives whispered to him in Mando’a, mindless words to just comfort him as he gagged harshly.

“Just let it happen.”

Rex stood closer, arm wrapping around his waist to keep him steady.

FN-2187 started to panic between bouts of nausea, making his breathing go erratic. Rex tightened his grip, and Fives cooed.

“It’s alright, ad’ika,” the ARC whispered.

Eighty-seven threw up once again, feeling his arms go weak as he gripped the sink, but the two men kept him standing. He made a soft sound in the back of his throat.

“I know you feel shitty, kiddo,” Rex murmured, broad hand sinking into his back. “I know.”

Once his body stopped attacking itself, he rinsed his mouth out, still shaky from the aftermath. He gave a nod, and the two men led him to a bunk.

Fives tapped a knuckle on his armor once they reached the end of the bunk. “Off.”

His armor hit the floor as he unclipped it, sitting heavily on the bunk.

Helix slipped in front of him, crouching down. Coric stood behind him. “Do you know what they drugged you with?” Eighty-seven shook his head, a hot tear rolling down his face. Helix clicked his tongue, swiping his thumb over his cheek a few times. “Electrodes?” He nodded into the medic’s hand. “What hurts?”

FN-2187 sighed, thinking it over. He flexed his fingers. “Head, back, arm. Other things.”

Helix frowned. “Where on your arm?”

Fighting with his undershirt, he raised it above his elbow. Even with his dark skin, bruises littered his skin in the crook of his arm, blood dried in drips.

“How many fucking times did they stab him?” Bacara asked with a grumble.

Helix huffed, moving his arm into better light. “A lot.” He looked sadly at FN-2187. “I can’t do much for you.”

Eighty-seven swayed lightly. “I just want to sleep,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Okay,” the medic whispered with a soft smile. His gentle hands slowly lowered him down into a lying position, FN-2187 going limp on the bunk.

With his exhaustion and the torture he received, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the flat pillow. He woke up a few times with jerks, but he was eased back into sleep by soft but cold hands or kind words.

He woke up naturally after a few hours of pure sleep passed. Tup sat on the floor near his head, leaning against Comet. He had a feeling those two were more than friends.

Tup gave him a bright smile. “Hey, you. How are you feeling?”

Eighty-seven blinked slowly, taking an evaluation of his body. “Okay,” he answered. “Still hurting a bit.”

A hand on his shoulder had him rolling over to his other side. Rex’s worried eyes stared down at him.

“Hey, verd’ika,” he whispered.

FN-2187 gave him a weak smile. “Hey.” He stayed laying flat. “How long have I been out?”

“Just a few hours,” Fives reassured. “Seems your trainers will be giving you the rest of the day off.”

He frowned at the ARC trooper. “How do you know?”

Wolffe scoffed. “We’re ghosts. We snoop around.”

Rex ran his hand through his tight curls. “Get some more sleep,” he murmured. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

FN-2187 knew that was a lie, but he had no issue relaxing into the man’s touch and buckling to the pull of sleep.

…

Whispers started circulating around the facility. Kylo Ren and his Knights were on a rampage through the galaxy, and everyone better pray to a higher power that they didn’t end up on Starkiller base unless they wanted to be in the man’s war path.

At first, FN-2187 didn’t believe it, passing off as scuttle that just circled around to scare recruits.

He groaned as Twenty-five brought it up during their meal in the mess one morning two weeks from their final test. “Do we have to talk about this?” he begged to know.

His squadmate just banged on the table lightly. “This is important. Everyone’s saying he’s eventually going to snap and kill everyone under his command.”

Sixty-three rolled his eyes. FN-2187 watched him carefully now a days since the man seemed to be warming up to him, by some miracle. Or he was just playing Eighty-seven. “If he did that, the First Order would drop his ass from command.”

Fifty-one sucked a breath in between her teeth. “I don’t know if they could . He’s the one with a damned lightsaber.”

Eighty-seven noticed some of the clones in the background trying to act like they weren’t listening, having their own conversations. Obviously they were trying to snoop for information, and he figured, why not help them out? “I think, Fifty-one has a point,” he added after a bite of rations. “It would take a lot of people to bring him down.”

Seventy-seven hummed. “He doesn’t even have a rank .”

A question bubbled inside of FN-2187’s head. He folded his arms on the table. “Who does Ren even obey?”

And that question stumped everyone at the table. They pursed their lips, trying to come up with an answer, but no one could.

That didn’t give FN-2187 a vote of confidence as he walked out of the mess.

…

FN-2187 woke up one day to soft giggles in the barracks.

Squinting, he glanced at his comm and saw it wasn’t too early, about an hour before he had to get to the training salles.

Shifting in his bunk, he sat up. Normally, a few clones would stay with him during the night, especially since his dreams had been bothering him. This morning, there was no one.

But another giggle had him stepped out of the bunk, leaving his armor behind. He poked his head out the door, not seeing anyone in the halls, not even night patrol. Another soft sound came from the right of the hallway.

He didn’t feel the presence of any clones nearby. And when he focused, the laughter sounded like a near echo.

Swallowing, he decided to follow the sounds, listening to the pull deep in his gut. After walking and taking a few turns to end up in the training sector, he stopped in front of a door that led to one of the agility courses, mainly for spec ops or specialized units. He heard conversation on the other side.

He triggered the sensor and stepped into the room. He had to blink a few times to come to his senses at what he saw.

A few of the command clones stood around the edges of the room but some FN-2187 didn’t recognize them. But they all watched something in the center of the room

Children. Children messed around on the course, laughing and playfully shoving each other. He wasn’t the best with telling ages but he had to guess they were between four and seven.

His throat closed up as he realized the gravity of what he was seeing.

“Eighty-seven?” someone asked.

His head snapped toward them, finding a clone he’d never met before. His armor was a similar shade of gray that mirrored the 104th but on his shoulder pad was an insignia he’d never seen before. “Hi,” he whispered, trying to not let his voice waver. “H-How do you know me?”

The man gave a soft laugh. “We all know you, kih’vod. I’m Truss, I was a commander on Kamino.”

Eighty-seven swallowed, looking back at the kids. Some of the other clones had noticed his arrival. “They’re…”

Truss nodded slowly, looking at the kids with a broken smile. “Children. And they aren’t even the youngest of us.”

FN-2187 gave a broken sound, turning away from the room to stare at the wall. He fought desperately to keep himself under control.

Truss’ hand hovered over his back before he finished his movement. “It’s rough,” he whispered. “Understanding what happened to them so young.”

One of the Alphas that FN-2187 couldn’t remember stepped up close as well, keeping his distance enough to be respectful but the sentiment was there. Might be Maze. He’d learned the man was extremely protective through passing.

“Do…they understand?” he dared to ask.

Truss sighed, moving his hand to hold his nape before his hand slipped away. “Most of the older one’s do. Some of the Littles, not so much.”

“Buir?” one of the small little voices called.

Eighty-seven and Truss turned around, seeing the children had stopped their play, staring at the new addition to the room.

One of the kids near the ground had been the one to call out, head cocked to the side.

“Yes?” Truss answered, fondness slipping into his voice.

“Why are you talking to a stormtrooper?” the same little boy asked.

One of the older children jumped from halfway up the platforms. At least twenty feet.

“Fuck!” FN-2187 shouted, shutting his eyes tightly. Some of the children found his cussing very amusing, laughter ringing out. He peeked open to find the boy completely unarmed, fighting back a smile. Eighty-seven sighed heavily. “ That will be hard to get used to.”

Some of the smaller children gaped at him in utter surprise.

“He can see us?!” many of them yelled.

Havoc said, “Yes, Eighty-seven can see us.”

A different older child jumped down as well, shifting his weight to one leg. “So he’s the one the adults always talk about.”

The elder clones snorted.

“What have we told you about eavesdropping?” Fordo asked.

“Maybe if you all didn’t make it so easy…” one of the boys sassed the man. He was then scooped up from behind by Maze. He squealed happily, stoicism slipping away in favor of clinging to the man so he didn’t fall.

“Respect your elders.” Maze poked him in the side with a soft grin before releasing him.

The little boy that first spoke inched forward. Truss met him halfway, letting the boy hide behind his leg to peer at Eighty-seven.

FN-2187 dropped to his knees, softening his face. “Hi,” he whispered.

The little boy just stared at him in wonder.

More of the children stepped closer, analyzing him with military precision. He hated it.

“How long have you been able to see us?” one of them asked, a scar running through his left brow.

A loaded question right off the bat. “I…don’t know,” he said. “I think longer than I’ve wanted to admit.”

That sent a shockwave to the older men, eyes boring into his soul.

“Can you touch us?” another asked.

FN-2187 shook his head, seeing their faces fall. “But for some reason, you can touch me. If I try, I just phase right through.”

A couple of the Littles started to rush forward but were pulled back by their guardians.

Spar gave his little one a stern glare. “That’s not what you do.”

Fordo corrected his next. “Want to try that again?”

“Can I hug you?” The boy in Truss’ arms asked.

Eighty-seven gave him a smile and nod.

Cautiously, the boy crept forward. He reached a small hand out, fingers just brushing against his shoulder. He let out a small gasp as the tips of his fingers graced the fabric. Then he threw his small arms around his neck. Eighty-seven wished he could just hug him back.

More bodies surrounded him, soft laughs filling the air. He never heard something so beautiful in his life.

They pulled back eventually, looking at him. Some of the older boys had stayed back, keeping their distance, and he respected that.

“So we can see you whenever?” Those brown eyes were so big.

FN-2187 nodded. “Only when you ask them first.” he pointed to the men around. “And when I’m not getting my shebs dragged around the salles. Okay?”

They all nodded.

Eighty-seven took his leave after a few more words. However, Truss must’ve seen something on his face because he followed him out to the room. His hands gently pushed him against the wall by the shoulders.

Truss’ brown eyes stared at him. This close, Eighty-seven could just a few strands of grey at his temples. “You alright?”

Maze also stood behind the man, back against the other wall.

“They’re so tiny,” he whispered to the man.

Maze sighed softly. “They are,” he agreed.

Eighty-seven pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying not to imagine the deaths of those children. “That word. What did he call you?”

“Buir?” Truss questioned, the Mando’a rolling off his tongue. FN-2187 nodded. “It means father.”

It made sense. The way the little boy had gone to the man for safety, small fingers gripping onto his armor. The way Truss had so easily placed a hand on top of his head, fingers brushing his curls.

“You take care of him,” FN-2187 posed.

Truss swallowed and nodded. “On Kamino when we were still alive, there were too many responsibilities for clones to look after the Littles full time. We could periodically but not with the kaminiise watching us.”

“But Rex and Fives took care of Tup because they were on active duty,” he mumbled mainly to himself, trying to connect all the things that was clone culture.

Maze gave a soft laugh. “They snatched that boy up the moment they saw him.”

Truss tightened his grip. “You okay now?”

Eighty-seven shrugged. “Trying to be.”

“Well start moving, you have a long day ahead of you.”

His stomach slammed to his feet. “Fuck,” he muttered. Captain Phasma of the First Order would be arriving to oversee their examinations.

Chapter Text

FN-2187 stood at attention with his squadmates, watching as the command ship settled on their landing deck of the facility. Not a single one of them spoke.

“Here we go,” Fifty-one muttered under her breath, voice distorted by her vocoder.

They watched as their superior officers engaged with a stormtrooper in chrome armor, tall and commanding. Phasma.

Thankfully, they just swooped inside leaving them to follow. Their commanders gave them orders to disperse until summoned for their final examination.

Seventy-seven nervously messed with his cuticles as they anxiously waited in their bunks. “What happens if we fail?”

FN-2187 didn’t want to go there. “We’re going to do fine . Just have to focus.” His squadmates weren’t so easily convinced. And he didn’t even believe himself.

Chilled hands held onto his gloved ones, thumb brushing against his covered knuckles. Eighty-seven held back his jump, not seeing the clone coming into the room let alone his bunk. He risked raising his eyes now that his helmet was off.

Tup’s soft smile melted the ice freezing inside of him. His hands held onto his tightly. “You’ve got this. We’re here.” FN-2187 couldn’t do much with his face or else he’d be questioned by the others. But Tup caught on easily. “I know the commanders said we won’t help you, but if it comes to you passing, I’ll break that rule. You’ve come too far to…”

Die , FN-2187 finished in his head. That’s exactly what would happen. The First Order had no patience for below-average fighters.

“We’ll be there with you. Not in view, we don’t want to distract you, but we’re here.”

He’d never had that before. His vision went blurry.

“No crying,” Comet’s sharper voice called out from near the back wall. “It makes him sad.”

Tup rolled his eyes, sending a heatless glare at him. “Don’t even start with me.” He never let go of his hands.

…

FN-2187 sat there for a long while, just soaking up every moment with the clones as he could.

His and his squadmate’s comms chimed in sync and that damned lump formed in his throat.

His body felt cold, trembling, as they walked down the halls. His clammy hands didn’t have anything to death grip to dissipate his anxiety. In his helmet, he could hear his breath echoing.

Stop fucking panicking, he hissed to himself as they reached weapon locker. Just like every other sim.

Every other sim where they never worked as a team, never cared about one another. Where they would just barrel through in hopes of surviving. Fucking perfect. He let a mask fall over him, his shaking stopping as he shut his mind off as much as possible.

The sim room had already changed into a forest territory, large trees blocking the artificial light of the sun. Balster fire started in the distance.

“Anything from command?” he asked Fifty-one as they both ducked behind trees from the get-go.

She shook her head, keeping her pistol upward as she cocked her head. “Nothing. I’m assuming simple infiltration.”

He and his squad silently made their way through the forest, keeping low to the ground as much as they could. FN-2187 kept his scope level, eyes skimming the area and his squadmates.

But something pricked at FN-2187’s neck. Like something was behind him.

He took one peek over his shoulder and saw a droid aiming its balster at Fifty-one’s unprotected back.

In a split second, he slammed her into the ground before firing at the droid, crouching in front of her prone body.

She grumbled, sending a heated glare through her visor.

He just shrugged. “Saved you. You’re welcome.” He got a middle finger for his troubles, but her normally tense body relaxed.

As predicted, as soon as they caught sight of a small compound, Sixty-three pushed forward without a second thought.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, trying to follow carefully as possible.

Sixty-three messed around with the wiring of the control panel, unable to spark the correct ones to short circuit the panel.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he hissed to his squadmate, able to face him fully as their other squadmates covered their sixes. 

Sixty-three didn’t glance his way. “Want me to blast through it, signalling our position?”

FN-2187 gave a groan, shuffling forward. “At least let me do it.”

“No.”

Twenty-five, one of their more quiet members hit the butt of his blaster into the large man’s shoulder. “Either do it or fuck off. We’re wasting time.” Sixty-three begrudgingly moved out of the way.

Eighty-seven knew he didn’t have much time, so he had to be quick. He recalled hearing Echo talk about different circuits with Tech, picking up a few details that were helpful. He grabbed one of the live wires that control the mechanism of the door and scraped at it until the copper wires showed. Then he did the same with one of the neutral wires. He racked them together until sparks showed and the door started sliding open.

They moved inside, blasters raised.

“Control center?” FN-2187 asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” Fifty-one decided, predicting that was their unspoken task.

They broke apart, taking separate hallways. He heard blaster fire ringing in the background, making him freeze. The lights of the compound flickered and buzzed, the weak light not providing much for his sight.

“Shit,” he muttered, struggling to pick what to do.

“Have to make a choice,” Ordo’s voice said to him.

The First Order had trained him to keep moving forward, to forget about the casualties. But the clones would’ve gone back for their brothers. 

He couldn’t give any sign for help, not with Phasma watching carefully. Everything inside of him just went blank. He quite literally froze.

“Eighty-seven, pick now or get shot. It’s your choice.”

So he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way back the way he came. As he turned a corner, he nearly smacked into a droid. He fired two quick shots to disable it.

Twenty-five was on his back, aiming a kick at a droid, both had no weapons in hand.

FN-2187 was about to fire when something hard hit the back of his head with a clang. He hit the deck and his hand landed right next to Twenty-five’s abandoned pistol. Grasping it, he spun onto his back, raising the pistol. He kept his grip tight as he squeezed the trigger and a bolt mark appeared in the droid’s head.

Panting slightly, he tossed Twenty-five’s pistol back to him, trying not to freak out with adrenaline.

“Thanks,” the man rasped out, making his way to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Eighty-seven groaned as he stood back up, feeling a dull ache in his head. He rolled his neck, loosening the tight muscles. “Come on, we might as well stick together at this point.”

Twenty-five looked ready to bolt down the hallway and go on his own. Then something had him giving a nervous nod. “Fine.”

Together, they swept every hallway and room they came across. They came across no trouble as they moved throughout the compound, hearing blaster shots in the faint distance. Not enough or in rapid succession to cause worry.

FN-2187 came across a large blast door. “Has to be it.” He fiddled with the control pad once again while Twenty-five surveyed the halls. They stepped into the room, blasters raised and ready.

The sounds of the simulation shutting down at FN-2187 sighing in relief. The dim lights of the sim room got brighter, the system shutting down.

Twenty-five glanced around, ready for the simulation to just start back up again. Eighty-seven took a little step closer, raising a hand. He rested it on the muzzle of his squadmate’s blaster and slowly pushed it down.

“You sure we’re done?” Twenty-dive asked him, voice bordering on nervous. “We’ve…never swept this quickly.”

FN-2187 relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah, we’re good. Come on.”

He led them out of where the room used to be, heading to one of the exits. Before they could reach it, they intercepted the rest of their squadmates, confusion ringing off of them.

Sixty-three tossed his hands in the air. “What the fuck?” he hissed out. “How did you two fuck up enough to get us DQ’d?”

FN-2187 pulled his bucket off, rolling his eyes. He continued on his path to the exit. “Actually, we got to the command center. We passed, thanks to us,” he snarked, slamming his hand on one of the buttons to open the doors.

A few choked sounds came from the others as they slowly followed behind him. He just wanted to get some rest before the rest of their evaluations continued.

Instead of going back to the barracks or common areas where there would no doubt be panicked and excited conversations that would keep him from sleeping, he walked back to their room, slipping through the doors only when the hallway was clear.

He dimmed the lights and started unclipping his armor as he walked to one of the bunks. Laying down, he relaxed on top of the sheets, curling up slightly. His body went pleasantly numb and floaty as he closed his tired eyes.

He drifted in and out peacefully, hearing whispered conversations but they didn’t bother him—he knew who they were. He felt people shifting around him, sometimes brushing up against him.

Once he fully woke up again, he took a few heavy and slow blinks. He noticed a hand passing through his hair, and he leaned into it. It got him the semblance of a soft murmur.

He rolled over, his head being lifted onto someone’s thigh. He made sure not to press into the touch too much or he’d just phase right through—that would be enough to jar him from his place between sleep and being awake. He tilted his head up, catching sight of Seventeen’s stern face which just made him confused.

Seventeen flicked him on the forehead. “I don’t want to hear it.” He let Eighty-seven sit up once he was ready

Eighty-seven checked his comm, seeing he got a few hours of sleep. He gave a soft sigh, massaging the back of his dore neck.

Prudii glanced up from where he was laying on the floor, using Mereel’s leg as a pillow. “Any more nightmares?” he asked softly.

Eighty-seven shook his head, feeling himself clam up at the question. “No, not for a couple of days.”

Cody made a soft sound of disappointment. “And you didn’t think to mention that one?”

FN-2187 hunched his shoulders. He stared down at the sheets. “It wasn’t that bad. Just a few flashes.”

Bacara had the same mirrored look of his brother. “That’s enough for us to know, verd’ika.”

FN-2187 would’ve continued to defend himself but Tup and Comet walked into the room. The 104th trooper lifted his chin. “Your squad’s going to be commed for range eval in five minutes.”

Just what he wanted.

A strong finger poked him in the side, making him flinch. “Damn,” he muttered at the Alpha clone.

The man poked his finger at him again. “Stop looking like a scared cadet. It’ll be fine.”

He left the room five minutes later.

…

He tried to stop his hands from shaking as he grasped his weapon. He passed the rifle section with flying colors, remembering everything Jesse and Waxer had taught him after-hours. Now they had to switch to pistols.

He was the first one to start firing, wanting to get it over as quickly as possible. They had to take a total of thirty shots. His shots started straying at ten so he lowered his hands, taking a breath.

Next to him, Seventy-seven had yet to fire his weapon, staring down the range with absolute terror in his body.

“Keep your grip tight,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Seventy-seven took a few shots that were extremely low, not even anywhere near center mass.

Eighty-seven fired off seven more of his remaining rounds. Keeping his eyes forward, he whispered again, “Anticipating recoil. Just squeeze and let it pull you.”

Seventy-seven managed to straighten out his shots.

FN-2187 finished firing off his rounds, something loosening in his chest. Without even doing extensive calculations, he knew he had passed. In hindsight, this whole day was a lot less stressful than he thought it would be.

They exited the range without a word when a hand wrapped around his arm. It wasn’t cold so it wasn’t a clone. He turned and saw Seventy-seven. He just followed him as he pulled him along.

“What’s up?” he asked softly.

“What are you playing at?” his squadmate asked him. Normally, he was never the confrontational one.

Eighty-seven pulled his helmet off, frowning at the other young man. “Nothing. You weren’t going to pass.”

The man huffed as he removed his helmet as well, biting at his inner cheek. “You’ve been helpful lately. More than ever. What do you want?”

He couldn’t help but sigh. “I don’t want anything. We’re squadmates, we’re supposed to help each other.”

The man’s face spelled nothing but confusion. “Since when?”

Eighty-seven realized his mistake. The First Order hadn’t taught them how to look out for each other. That was all the clones' influence, their protectiveness over each other. He needed to say something quick.

“I don’t want you to fail, even if you don’t believe me,” he settled with.

Seventy-seven gave a short nod then stayed in the hallway as Eighty-seven walked away. He took a sigh of relief, hoping his squadmate would forget about the situation.

He headed to the mess to pass the time until the evaluations were finished. He swallowed down some rations, feeling the tense energy from everyone in the room. Bravo and Foxtrot were the only squads that didn't look to be on the verge of mental breakdown. He locked eyes with Nines from across the room by pure chance, and the other man clenched his jaw tight, glaring at him.

Guess he hoped I would’ve failed by now. He quickly left after that.

FN-2187 retreated back to his assigned barracks, slipping quietly. They all waited on their bunks for any sort of news.

Two hours later, FN-2187 felt a buzz from his datapad stored under his bunk. Then more vibrations came from his squadmates’. They all scrambled to grab them. 

FN-2187 paused before reading his, wanting to see the results of the others.

“I got my orders.”

“So did I.”

“Me too.”

Everyone ducked down, opening the messages.

Sixty-three had a sharp smirk. “Corellia. Beat that.”

“Bespin.”

“Kashyyk.”

Fifty-one gave a loud laugh, jumping to her feet. “Fuck all of you, I got Naboo.”

FN-2187 barely heard the words and excitement over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. His eyes continually traced the words over and over again, trying to find some kind of mistake. His chest started feeling tight.

“Eighty-seven?” Twenty-five asked softly.

“Starkiller,” he said out loud, the word falling like a hammer over the room. “Ilum.”

With the psychotic Sith lord in command with his Knights and Phasma.

The others didn’t know how to feel about it either. Some awkwardly tried to avoid his gaze while others gave him sympathetic looks.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Fifty-one tried to convince him.

He flashed a smile. “Thanks.“

 He fled the room and went down the hall. He found an empty room and slid down the wall, trying not to freak out. He sat there for a few minutes, not knowing what to do about anything.

When he opened his eyes after a while, Rex sat calmly in front of him cross-legged. The man had a certain look on his face, almost like one of loss .

“We know,” Rex whispered to him.

Eighty-seven shook his head. “I can’t do this.” His voice laced with panic without his permission. Rex offered his hands but he didn’t move toward him.

The blond tilted his head, face sad and tears shining. “You have to, verd’ika.”

FN-2187 let out a soft cry. “ No . I didn’t want this .”

“Shhhh, shhhh. Take a breath.” Rex stroked his leg like it was practiced motion.

“He’ll kill me,” Eighty-seven told him, staring just past the captain’s head at the wall. “He’ll know. He’s powerful.” Rex couldn’t convince him otherwise even if their Jedi couldn’t sense the ghosts.

Rex fought for words a long time, mouth opening a few times. He gave a frustrated sigh before gathering himself. “What do you want us to do?” He just blankly stared at the blond. “We can stay with you or leave.”

Eighty-seven wanted his arms around him. Instead, he curled his knees up to his chest. “You can’t be near me.” He said, and it made his chest constrict.

Rex gave a quiet sound, pity filling his eyes as FN-2187 worked through his own words.

“You…can’t be near me,” he repeated, softer and broken.

At that, Rex pulled him into his arms, crushing him tight. Eighty-seven just let it happen.

He lost himself for a while, not noticing the other clones in the room until later

“Rex,” someone said, voice tight, “You just want us to never speak to him again?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” the captain of 501st warned his brother. “It’s his choice. We all agreed from the very beginning that all of this would be his choice.”

“But we have to guide him—”

“Enough,” Ordo cut through the chaos in the room. All the other clones went quiet. “It’s Eighty-seven’s choice and he’s made it. We have to respect that.”

“How is he supposed to…” Wolffe started to ask. Something unspoken passed between the clones. Something that FN-2187 could never decipher. “How are we supposed to make any of this work?”

FN-2187 just ducked his head, finding a place where Rex could rest his chin on his head. A place to keep him safe. “I’m sorry,” he said into the man’s shoulder.

“Never apologize to me for something like this,” Rex responded as the others continued to discuss.

“Ren can’t possibly be on Ilum all the time. Same with his Knights,” Ordo logically deduced. “We just have to be careful to avoid any Sith.”

Rex nudged him. “How’s that sound, verd’ika?”

Eighty-seven risked a glance at the commanders, expecting anger from most of them. However, he found none. Just men sitting on the ground along with him and Rex, keeping their normally guarded expressions open. He nodded his permission.

“Just keep your head down on Starkiller,” Bacara suggested to him, bracing his arms behind him on the floor. “Do your job and avoid Ren at all costs.”

It sounded easier said than done, but he would obey because he trusted them. Trusted ghosts of the republic over the First Order, the people that had raised him as a warrior since birth. He felt himself tremble under Rex’s hands with the notion. Rex just held him tighter.

“Tell me,” he begged them all. He’d been wanting to know what they were keeping for weeks.

“Not yet,” Ordo’s voice adopted a bit of bite to it. He ducked his head for Eighty-seven to meet eyes. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, little one, but it's the way it’s going to be. Am I understood ?” The man finished in Mando’a.

Well, he understood that. Eighty-seven bit at his lip as he nodded with a small “Lek”, Rex’s hand finding a place on his back. “You have to keep the Littles away,” he added worriedly, already seeing some of the more rambunctious boys running around the base and stumbling along a Sith.

Truss nodded. “We will, verd’ika.” The other commanders nodded alongside their brother.

“We’re going to make this work,” Cody promised him.

FN-2187 just had to have faith in that.

…

Starkiller just seemed like every other compound to FN-2187 as he stepped off the transport of the hanger.

Nines shoulder-checked him as the man stepped off the LAAT, heading for the blast doors.

Eighty-seven waited for a snappy remark from Bacara or Wolffe or Boil but nothing of the sort ever came.

He shuffled behind the rest of the recruits as they made their way to their assigned barracks. Thankfully, Nines stepped through the second instead of the third bunk room, making FN-2187 give a sigh of relief.

His bunk room was empty, his squad no doubt on their rotations within the base. His orders didn’t start until the following morning so he curled up in his bunk, pulling the sheets to his shoulders.

Blinking around the room, Eighty-seven realized that he felt so damn cold. Cold and alone. He always thought growing up without affection or guidance would be the worst thing to happen to him. Now he realized it was being separated from those he cared about.

He never thought he’d feel so alone again. And there he was, ripped away from the comfort of the clones. So. Alone.

6 Months Later

FN-2187 kept his slouching back straight as he stood outside of the command deck. His guard watch shift felt like it had been lasting well beyond eight hours. His body was just so tired from Phasma’s training and his nightmares which had returned.

Two other stormtroopers made their way down the hallways before pausing in front of Eighty-seven and the man on the other side of the door. Before Eighty-seven could even move, one of the troopers cocked their head.

“Ren’s gone with his Knights,” she said with a slight smirk in her voice. “So we don’t have to tiptoe in the halls for a while.”

Forget tiptoeing around, he could finally see the clones again. It had been a long four months since the first and last time seeing them on Starkiller, and it had only been for twenty-four hours before Ren returned. “Seriously?”

The other trooper snorted. “He had a little conversation with Hux before storming out to his ship.”

“Another mission?” FN-2187 patrol partner questioned. “Or his normal temper tantrum calm-down?”

The woman just snorted.

Without another word, Eighty-seven rushed down the hall to his barracks. Half of his squad was deployed while the others were still on rotation.

But as he stepped into the room, doubt and anxiety crawled its way into his chest.

What if they don’t want to see me? He slowly put his bucket down on the dunk. What if I’m more trouble than I’m worth? They had four months to just sit and think.

A chill went down his spine.

“Hey there.”

Seventeen.

Eighty-seven spun around, eyes going wide.

A large number of the clones stood in the barracks, all smiling at him. He studied each one of them, seeing an array of paint and ranks with him.

The 212th commander scrunched his nose with a confused smile from behind the Alpha. “What? Thought we wouldn’t show up?”

FN-2187 just walked to Seventeen.

The man didn’t hesitate to bring him into his arms, practically lifting him off his feet. Someone came up from behind Seventeen and gripped Eighty-seven’s hands, lacing their fingers together. He had missed that gentle chill on his skin.

Tears bubbled up in his throat but he refused to cry. He just pushed as much as he could against Seventeen and Boss holding his hands.

“Long time, huh verd’ika?” Hunter said with a gentle smile.

FN-2187 just nodded, or he would burst into tears if he tried to speak.

Seventeen put him down a minute later, hands on his shoulders. “You solid?” he asked, gruff but gentle.

Eighty-seven nodded, firmer this time.

Rex and Cody had twin smiles. The 212th commander gestured to his bunk. “Sit down, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Eighty-seven did as he was told, practically flopping on his bunk that got a few of the commanders chuckling. The clones piled in close, not even bothering about personal space with each other. He had missed that too. Hell, he missed everything.

“How’ve you been?” Ordo opened with.

“Tired. Phasma doesn’t let up on training.” He rather have their coddling than lie to them.

Keeli gave a soft snort. “I’m sure she doesn’t. You look good though, verd’ika.”

Eighty-seven had started to get broader with his time on Starkiller, nearly the same size as Nines now. Hand-to-hand came easier. He’d gained more knowledge about the First Order. Less ignorant of the galaxy like Rex had put it.

“Any run-ins with Ren?” Rex asked him, eyes pinched with worry. He studied every inch of Eighty-seven.

He shook his head. “I’d pass him in the hallway or the command deck but never spoke to him. And he never seemed to notice anything…strange.”

The last remaining tension in the clones had released, soft sighs ringing out. It made him relax as well.

“Good,” Bly settled with, a smile peeking out.

Someone settled behind him, back against the wall and pulled him to them. He rested against them, not feeling the hardness of armor. He tilted his head back, resting on their shoulder.

“And the nightmares?” Monnk asked next.

That had him fidgeting, messing with his hands. The clones just waited for him to gather his words. FN-2187 tried to come up with a response but nothing came out.

But they’d been able to read him since day one.

“How many times a week?” Gregor asked. His soft smile showed that he had empathy for what FN-2187 constantly went through at night.

Eighty-seven bit his inner cheek. “Two or three.”

Fordo made a soft noise. “And how bad are they?”

FN-2187 tapped his thumbs together, glancing at all of them. He ended up meeting eyes with Tup who sat next to Rex, seeing understanding in the teen’s eyes.

“Bad,” Tup decided, making all the clones snap to look at him. The teen didn’t spare them any looks, just keeping his kind gaze on Eighty-seven who gave a single nod. Obviously, everyone knew something about Tup that he didn’t. He could add that to list of things he had to convince them to slip up about.

Rex sighed heavily, putting a hand on FN-2187’s leg. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Stay,” he requested. “My squadmates aren't here much.”

Ordo stretched his legs out. “Wouldn't be anywhere else, verd’ika.”

He spent the next couple of hours hearing about how the clones had stayed in the maintenance area of the base, away from prying Sith lords. The Littles had been confused at first about why they had to stay away, but they caught on quickly. Smart little boys.

“There was one poor trooper that Fives and Boil terrorized,” Jesse mumbled, giving his brothers a smirk.

Eighty-seven frowned, lifting his head from Wolffe’s shoulder. “How did you manage that ? I thought you couldn’t speak to anyone.”

Fives had that smirk on his face that promised trouble, and so did Boil. FN-2187 saw Echo shake his head behind his brother.

Boil chuckled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t move things.”

Eighty-seven just gaped at him. “Since when?” He looked at the other clones for answers.

Kom’rk waved at hand. “It doesn’t work all the time. The most we can do is just knock things off tables like a damn loth cat.”

FN-2187 didn’t know what that was but just looked at Fives and Boil.

Fives read his face. “It was one of the techies. He was trying to fix a compressor but it just so happened that the laser he needed kept rolling off to the far side or the table. Or mysteriously rolled near the vent.”

“Should’ve been there. It was great fun,” Boil added. Then he squealed when Waxer hit him over the head. “Hey!”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Boys, no fighting.”

Wooley crossed his arms over his chest, smirking while running his tongue over a tooth. “Yes buir .” He dragged out the Mando’a.

Cody just narrowed his eyes. “Don’t sass me, ad’ika.”

“Just proving my point,” the teen added with a sweet smile.

Eighty-seven just snorted, getting comfortable against the 104th commander once again. He felt the man begin to run his fingers through his hair, making his eyes droop. Once he realized this, he pulled away from the man, glaring at him. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

The commander just smirked at him, living up to his name's sake. “Glad to know that works on you too…along with the younglings,” he teased.

Eighty-seven fought the pout pulling at him. “Rude.”

Wolffe held him closer. “Just the truth, verd’ika. That shit always worked on cadets and jedi alike.”

FN-2187 frowned. “Jedi younglings?” he asked. He knew that Jedi had been Generals in previous wars in the galaxy, but he couldn’t come up with a reason why the clones would know their young.

The clones around the room seemed to relax as they thought about his question. As if they were thinking about an old friend.

Grey had a slight smile as he began to speak. “Some of our generals had padawan learners attached to their hips during the war. We became close with our generals, so we did the same with the padawans.”

A lump formed in Eighty-seven’s throat. The clones had been trying to get him to see that the Jedi weren’t monsters since the very beginning, never forcing the issue, but sharing parts of their lives. But…they were children. “What?” was all he could ask.

“Yes, there were younglings on the battlefield,” Rex told him, regret slipping into his voice, making FN-2187 feel dizzy with nausea.

Wolffe put a hand on his nape, thumb brushing over the sliver of skin available.

“How many?” he asked nervously.

“A handful. Maybe more,” Bacara replied honestly, and FN-2187 believed him.

FN-2187 ducked his head, trying to think about tiny little Jedi, not much older than the Littles standing side by side with soldiers double their height, small hands clutching a lightsaber.

A hand wrapped around his ankle. Eighty-seven slowly looked at Gree. “No one wanted it to happen,” the man said, hushed and gentle. “But they had to be trained in order to keep themselves alive as they made their way up the ranks. The Order tried to keep them at the temple for as long as possible.”

It still didn’t seem right to FN-2187.

“Eighty-seven, how old were you when you first picked up a blaster?”

That had him thinking hard. “Six,” he whispered.

“And when did they start making you use live rounds in sims?”

FN-2187 swallowed. “Six.”

Ordo scooted closer, the rest of the clones looking at him and his squadmates. “We started live sims at ten . And even then, our trainers didn’t approve of it because it got some of us killed.”

Those boys he saw playing, how many of them had suffered that fate? He messed with a loose thread.

“And the Jedi?” Ponds continued. “They never used live rounds. They never put their younglings in danger just in the name of training.”

FN-2187 knew what they were implying. But he couldn’t do anything about it. He looked desperately at Rex which made the man get off the floor, dislodging Fives in the process.

The blond sat on the bed with a sigh, glancing off to the side. “We can’t think for you, kih’vod. And we’re not trying to.”

“But what you're saying…” he broke off, not wanting to even finish the sentence. It was treason.

“We don’t want you making any choices just to appease us,” Seventeen said. “This is just a conversation, alright?”

A nod was all Eighty-seven could manage. “Okay,” he whispered, wanting this conversation to just be done with. And his wishes were granted as Sinker and Boost started going at it, distracting everyone else.

Wolffe just stayed still as Eighty-seven shifted then he pulled him closer to keep his head pillowed on his chest. FN-2187 felt himself beginning to drift off. He just let it happen.

…

Eighty-seven wanted to slam his head into a wall. His eyes were starting to cross at his terminal, mindless code just passing by.

Sev and Scorch were bickering about something behind his seat, leaning back on the wall

“You’re such a di’kut,” Sev groaned loudly.

“Come on, Eighty-seven,” Scorch whined playfully. “Back me up here.”

“No,” FN-2187 signed behind his back easily, fighting the smirk sliding on his face. He quickly moved his hand back as Hux started walking toward the front of the command center, glaring down at his stormtroopers as he passed.

“He loves me more,” Sev sang, such a contrast to his normal persona of gruffness.

“Shabuir,” the commando hissed.

Eighty-seven flashed another sign. “ What’s that one?”

“Motherfucker,” Sev replied with a bright smile in his voice. “A name I take with pride.”

He nearly snorted, trying not to laugh.

The two continued to bicker in his ear, shoving at each other like children. They didn't even notice when he got up as his rotation ended, and he was inclined to just let them keep going while smiling lightly to himself.

He went to turn right down the hallway when a scream echoed inside of his head. Stopping on a dime, he frantically spun around, looking for the source. There was nothing but bright lights and an empty hallway.

His chest felt tight and utter sadness crushed down on him, making him gasp. He gave a broken sound, hand going to his chest.

A light flickered on the left side. He shuffled a step closer and that feeling grew inside of him. Pushing through, tears soundlessly fell down his cheeks under his helmet.

Whatever pressed down on his chest led him to one of the observation decks along the south side of Starkiller. He could barely see the command pad through his tears but his fingers managed to hit the buttons.

Opening the door revealed a sunset of gold and pink and a lone stormtrooper gripping the edge of a rail. His throat closed up when he realized who it was.

He forced himself to remain calm. “Twelve?” he asked softly.

The woman barely turned her head at the sound of her designation. She just bunched her shoulders up, and another wave of sadnessangerregretguilt all swirled around inside of Eighty-seven.

It made him want to lay on the ground and cry until someone found him.

“You're supposed to be on a deployment.” The words came out choppy and short but at least it was a sentence.

“Just came back,” she snapped out before she broke off into a sharp inhale. Something similar to a cry.

“What happened?” He took a step toward her.

She spun around, and he saw tear tracks on her bare face. A glare settled on him. She set her jaw refusing to answer.

“Eighty-seven…”

The clones had found him. He couldn’t worry about that right now. “Go away,” he signed frantically.

“Kih’vod—” 

“ Go. Away.” He repeated, keeping his formations tight and firm. He kept his eyes on Twelve.

She put her hands behind her on the rail and pushed herself up. Her legs dangled as she sat, eyes going cold.

“Twelve…” he said, taking a step closer.

“Did you know that kids had toys?” she asked in a light voice that didn’t sound right. “Keeps them occupied when their parents can’t watch them.”

“What happened?” he asked again. That small feeling in his mind and body told him to get closer. To grab her.

She blinked, staring at his feet. “We killed everyone. Phasma ordered it. But then…”

FN-2187 risked one step more. The clones were watching—he could feel it.

Her blond hair moved slightly in the wind. She struggled for the words for a while. “Then she ordered us to sweep the houses, killing anything that remained.”

Eighty-seven felt sick to his stomach.

“There was this little girl,” Twelve’s voice waved, waving a hand through the air as she spoke. “She had braids. And she was playing with this toy, some type of animal, trying not to cry since her parents were just shut outside of their home.” The woman looked him dead in the eye. “And I pulled the trigger. And she still held onto that damn toy.”

Eighty-seven didn’t know what to say.

It was just orders.

Phasma was smart enough to kill all of them before they caused a mutiny.

The First Order has its ways.

None of them felt right.

A soft smile came to her. “Have you ever seen lightspeed?” He shook his head. “It’s beautiful. Just you and the galaxy.” Then her face hardened and she leaned back a few inches.

“Twelve, don’t,” he begged, but he couldn’t move, something keeping him in place.

That scream echoed inside of his head once again. He winced, bringing a hand up to the side of his head. Once everything cleared again, Twelve just stared at him, an inquisitive look crossing over her.

After a long stretch of silence, she said, “Get out of the First Order, Eighty-seven. Before they kill you.”

And then she started leaning back.

“No!” he shouted, trying to reach for her, but something continued to hold him back. He watched as she disappeared over the edge, becoming one with the snow and sky.

When Eighty-seven turned, he saw Rex and Cody grasping onto his arms. Cody released him with a sigh, leaving Rex as the anchor. As the reason why Twelve went over the edge.

“Why?!” he screamed at Rex. The man just sadly shook his head. “Why?!” he shouted at the others standing by. “I could’ve grabbed her!”

Fordo stepped forward, trying to reach for him, but FN-2187 dodged out of the way, still in the captain’s grasp. Hurt and sorrow flashed in the Alpha’s eyes but he didn’t care.

Seventeen followed, and FN-2187 caught sight of his hand wrapping around Fordo’s hip. “Kid, she would’ve killed herself either way.”

Eighty-seven tried to wrestle out of Rex’s grip but the man wouldn’t give up. “You don’t know that!” All he could remember was laughing with the woman between rotation and training. And now she was gone, and he could’ve saved her.

“Eighty-seven, she would’ve jumped the minute you looked away or would’ve taken a blaster to her head.” Bacara tried to tell him, keeping his palms facing out.

He glared at Rex. “Let go of me.” Rex didn’t. “Fucking let go of me!”

The captain’s grip eventually loosened, allowing him to slip away and pass by the other clones. He slammed his helmet back on and made his way back to the command center. The clones tried to speak to him, but he just blocked them out.

Hux sighed as he approached, already rolling his eyes. “What is it, trooper?”

“FN-5212 jumped off one of the observation decks.”

The man went still, truly shocked. Then he pursed his lips. “Alright then. I’ll alert Captain Phasma and have the sentries retrieve the body.” When Eighty-seven didn’t move, he waved a hand. “You may leave now, trooper. You don’t need a written invitation do you?”

Eighty-seven left after that. He made his way through the halls and the clones tried to intercept him but he always just moved out of the way before they could reach him.

“Kid, come on.”

“Talk to us, please, verd’ika.”

“Eighty-seven, listen to us.”

He was tired of listening. “Fuck off,” he said over his shoulder before walking through his barracks door.

The sound of utter silence buzzed in his ears. A part of him just wanted to desperately turn back and let the clones take his weight, but the other half was just so angry.

He paced the room, feeling his body shaking. Or was it floor? He didn’t fucking care at this point. He just kept replaying Twelve’s body tipping off the edge. That serenity melting on her face.

His anger slipped away with a sob. He crumbled onto his bunk. Twelve being gone hit him harder than he ever imagined. They weren’t close by any means—he barely knew or liked her—but her loss hit like a blaster bolt to the chest.

A rush of cold went over him, making him close his eyes.

“Go away,” he pleaded instead of yelling.

A pressure just appeared against the front of his head. He pulled an eye open to see Tup laying next to him, heads pressed together. The teen’s thumb stroked over his jaw gently.

Tup didn’t have any words for him.

“I just…”

“Need some space,” he finished, and FN-2187 could feel the vibrations from his voice. “I get it. Especially when they gang up on you.”

Eighty-seven frowned.

Tup lifted a brow. “Think you’re the first one to blow up at them for being protective utreekove?”

He just waited for him to continue.

“We’ve all had our fair share at arguing with the al’verdese about their choices when it comes to us. Hell, I’ve argued with Rex and Fives too many times to count. But they care . Most of them aren’t good at saying it or showing that vulnerability so they use their actions.”

FN-2187 bit his lip. “But I could’ve saved her.”

Tup tsked, thumb resuming its path along his skin. “You couldn’t have. She made her choice the moment she…”

He moved further into Tup, somehow not phasing through. Tup wrapped an arm around him.

“What…what did you argue about?” Eighty-seven asked, hoping that he would be able to fix whatever he broke between him and the clones.

Tup gave a laugh. “Didn’t want me taking risks. Comet got that a lot from the Wolfpack, always wanting to prove himself.” He stroked Eighty-seven’s back, getting him to relax into his hand. “But…something happened, and then they started arguing with each other more. And then I…”

Eighty-seven went still. “What?” he questioned. Even if Tup was young, he always assumed he had lived on past Torrent.

Tup’s eyes started clouding up. “It’s not something I typically talk about.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t tell me just for my sake.”

Tup passed a hand through his hair. “You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t let it fuel you. They care about you so much.”

FN-2187 closed his eyes, just feeling the faint energy coming from the ghost. “I don’t understand why.”

The teen sighed, tapping their heads together again. “I don’t think we know either, but we do. And today, we got scared.”

He huffed, feeling a bite of anger sparking again. “Scared of what?”

“That she would drag you over the edge,” a new voice explained.

Tup and Eighty-seven looked on the other side of the teen to see Comet standing there.

He raised his chin. “I know you want some space but I figured you’d listen to me better than them.”

Eighty-seven hadn’t even thought of that. “But it’s my choice to make.”

“Yes, they’re protective assholes. Yes, they were overbearing. But it’s what they do to keep us safe because they love us.”

Love. He’d never known the word. He didn’t even know if it existed, seeing as his parents never wanted him in the first place. Why else would he end up as a First Order stormtrooper?

Comet glanced down at Tup. “Hey, love,” he whispered, harsh lines smoothing out.

Tup gave him a smile, letting him lay down behind him.

Eighty-seven just watched as they got comfortable with each other, Comet sliding a hand over to hold onto his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“They’re getting chewed out, don’t worry. The medics can be assholes when they want to be,” Comet whispered to him, resting his chin on Tup’s head and curling around him. “They won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe, but they’ll get some perspective.” He paused, giving a sigh. Tup turned his head to look back at him. “But we’re never going to apologize for keeping you alive. None of us.”

FN-2187 didn’t need to fall asleep. Just needed to feel surrounded.

…

“Why the fuck did you let him leave without tailing him?” Seventeen growled out to the deltas. 

Sev crossed his arms over his chest, sneering at the Alpha. Boss, of course, was not backing him up, but he was a big boy. The Alphas didn’t scare him. “I’m not your cadet to chastise. He slipped away, big fucking deal.” He stared at the other commanders. “The question we should be asking is how the hell did he find his squadmate on a random observation deck.”

Rex put a hand on his chin, thinking it over. He felt Fives brush up against his back, palm splaying across his lower back. “It’s the same reason he can see us,” he said.

All the clones had gathered in the maintenance sector after the blow up with Eighty-seven. All the ones that still showed themselves as specters. Rex always waited for the day that some of his lost brothers would show themselves.

Ordo sighed, A’den brushing their shoulders together. “Still going with that theory?”

Wolffe tossed his hands up. “It’s the only one that makes sense.”

“The only one that explains what he is,” Cody added.

Rex sighed, leaning into Fives’ comforting touch.

Tech adjusted his glasses. “It is my suggestion that we tell him soon. With his growing unstableness and newfound knowledge, he could implode sooner rather than later.”

They all glanced to Rex and Ordo, knowing they would have the final say. Rex just wanted to relax during his time in the afterlife in the halls of Manda, and now they were dragged into this. But he’d be damned to leave FN-2187 alone ever again—even if he was unhappy with them

“We can’t. Not yet.”

Some of the clones were ready to argue but Ordo held a hand up.

“Rex is right,” he admitted, nodding to the captain. “He’s not safe here, especially with the darjetii in command. Anybody have information on him?”

Bacara hummed, having been put in charge of getting intel. “He goes into this one room that we can’t phase through. Probably blocked by force magic osik. But whoever he obeys is searching for something. Something big.”

They noticed how he’d paused, making his men glance at him with worry.

Bly lifted his chin. “What is it?”

The Marine exhaled. “I think…it has something to do with finding a Jedi.”

Rex straightened up. Could it be Ezra? Maybe Ahsoka? “Who?”

“Luke Skywalker.”

…

The clones had given FN-2187 the time he requested. He hadn’t seen any of the commanders in a week, only having one clone at a time in the same room as him. Someone neutral like Trapper, Hardcase, or the medics. It gave him time to think and wrap his head around everything.

Then Ren returned, and they disappeared altogether.

FN-2187 was called to the briefing room one morning, making his heart pound. He and the rest of his squadmates made their way there, not saying a word.

FN-2187 froze when he saw Ren standing next to Phasma, arms down and back straight.

He wanted to run . He didn’t look at the Sith, keeping his eyes forward. Emptying his mind without even thinking about it.

Phasma put her hands behind her back. “We will be departing for the inner rim planet of Jakku in search of an artifact. Your mission is to maintain control of the settlement by any means necessary. We leave in two hours. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” they all replied.

Nines stepped forward, staring straight at Ren. “What are you searching for?”

Kylo Ren tilted his head to the side, analyzing his trooper. “To a man that disappeared many years ago, thought to be lost to the galaxy. A map to Luke Skywalker.”

Chapter Text

The rocking of the small transport ship as they detached from the star cruiser had FN-2187’s stomach swaying, with nausea and nerves. His blaster was clutched tightly in his hand as the overhead lights flickered in a sickening pattern.

All he could see was the flash of lights illuminating the plastoid of the other stormtroopers standing side by side and in front of him. And the only thing he could think about was the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye to the clones.

The ship rocked as they entered Jakku’s atmosphere, sending all them gripping for the rail above their heads.

The clones had disappeared the moment Ren returned and he’d been shipped out to the star cruiser not long after the briefing. He didn't know if the clones would follow him, or if they had any choice in the matter?

The pilot announced over comms, “Leveling out. Searching for the settlement.”

The lights finally settled above them. He felt his chest get tight with anxiety.

“Target locked. Prepare for deboarding,” the same pilot announced just minutes later of them skimming the surface of the planet.

The ship rocked as it landed harshly on the ground, sounds of blaster fire coming from the outside.

Fuck .

He didn’t want to do this.

Spots pinged against the metal as the ship began to open.

FN-2187 raised his blaster as he and the others on the transport exited. And that’s when the carnage started.

The stormtroopers opened fire on the village, killing anything that moved.

Eighty-seven never put his finger near the trigger. He just… couldn’t .

Stray blaster fire created small explosions, making his ears ring even with his helmet. Through his visor, he could see so many bodies hitting the ground. He just kept running, sticking to one of his squadmates.

Just keep your head down . Bacara’s voice echoed in his mind. 

He could do that.

As he stuck to the man’s side, his vision took in the flamethrowers being used to discrete the village, bringing it down to the ground. So many screams rang out, getting cut off as the people of the settlement took blaster shots all over their bodies.

Eighty-seven paused when his squadmate hit the ground with a groan after the flash of a blue bolt struck him. “Shit.” He knelt on the ground next to him, safe behind the stone barrier to his left.

Through the darkness and dust he couldn’t see much. He rolled his man over, breath coming out in panic. That’s when he saw the blood.

His squadmate had taken a shot to the chest, cracking his armor and leaving blood in its wake. Eighty-seven had never seen so much blood before.

“No,” he whispered, trying to apply pressure.

The man reached his right hand up, glove torn to show his blood soaked hand that had pressed against the wound. The man tried to reach for FN-2187 with the last bit of strength he possessed. His hand dragged down FN-2187’s helmet.

He couldn’t hear anything. He just watched as the man’s chest went still, never moving again.

His chest did that tight thing again.

The sounds of the massacre came back to him. He shot straight up to his feet, panting as he tried to breathe.

What was he doing?

His head whipped around, searching around all the destruction they were causing.

A teenager, not much older than Tup, Comet, or Wooley screamed as a stormtrooper approached her, trying to scramble back with a shattered leg. She took a shot to the head.

A woman tried to run with her baby in her arms, then spilled into the sand as four bolts went into her back.

A man pleaded before a flamethrower went over him.

He couldn’t fucking breathe .

The stormtroopers shoved and pushed survivors toward the center of the village, blasters pointed to their heads or their children that screamed and cried.

FN-2187 stumbled back, cries building up inside of him. He didn’t want this.

A sob broke out as he continued to flee slowly, nearly tripping over bodies in his path. He found himself standing between two stone houses, crouching to his knees as he pressed a hand to his chestplate.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

“Eighty-seven, you need to slow down.”

His head snapped up, searching for that kind, baritone voice he’d been yearning for for days.

Seventeen, Mereel, and Neyo knelt in front of him, not even worried about the fighting around them.

“Breathe,” Mereel snapped.

FN-2187 sucked in a breath, not wanting to disobey. He didn’t want them to leave again, to disappoint them again. He couldn’t be alone. Couldn’t be without them. His next inhale was broken up with a sob.

“Again,” the null ordered, a hand falling onto Eighty-seven’s shoulder.

Mereel kept repeating it over and over again until Eighty-seven could breath on his own.

“I don’t want to do this,” he admitted to the clones.

Neyo narrowed his eyes, looking past FN-2187 and giving a short nod before turning his attention back to him. “We know. Gods, we do,” he said with his soft voice. “But right now, you have to get on your feet and act like a stormtrooper.”

“Neyo, I can’t .” He begged for the man to understand.

Seventeen gripped the chin of his helmet, pulling his head to him. His steely eyes glared at Eighty-seven. “That’s bullshit and we all know it. I’m not saying kill anyone. I’m saying you have to stay alive by making them think you are. Be a soldier, verd’ika.”

“We’ll deal with the rest later…” Mereel trailed off, eyes going to the sky.

Ren’s ship approached, descending at a smooth and slow speed. More people were gathered up by the stormtroopers.

“Go. Right now.” Seventeen said, shoving him forward.

Eighty-seven saw the clones that had stood around, watching his six, head as far away from possible. He didn’t have time to look back.

Eighty-seven froze when his Lieutenant locked visors with him. Shit. I’m fucked .

The man just gestured him closer. Once he was close enough, he said, “Stop standing around like a dumbass. Follow me.”

FN-2187 shook with adrenaline as he followed, so many things happening all at once. He was led to a gap in the ring of stormtroopers around the prisoners with a sharp order of ‘Stay here’ So he fell in line like the perfect little soldier.

He watched as two clones held an elderly man by his arms, dragging him closer but separating him from the villagers.

Eighty-seven couldn’t help but glance nervously at Ren's ship. The ramp finally descends, the hydrolysis releasing steam from the ship. Two troopers stood on guard which FN-2187 found ridiculous. Ren and his Knights didn’t need protection. The galaxy needed protection from them . 

FN-2187’s throat closed up when Kylo Ren stalked down the ramp, his dark robes billowing in the wind. His mask sent a stroke of fear through him just like it always did.

Past the darjetii, Eighty-seven caught sight of the Knights of Ren. Most of the same in place but two others exited, armor wicked and lined with weapons. 

FN-2187 watched as Ren approached the elderly man held between two stormtroopers, the man’s face melting into something like recognition. He tightened his grip on his blaster. Embers flew around the settlement.

Ren paused right in front of the man, mask dipping slightly. “Look how old you’ve become.” His voice cracked through his vocoder.

The man just looked at him. “Something far worse has happened to you.”

Eighty-seven determined they knew each other. But how was the question. He saw the Knights start to get shifty, hands migrated to their weapons.

Ren tipped his head slightly. “You know what I’ve come for.”

“I know where you come from ,” the man said with an air of humor. “Before you called yourself Kylo Ren ,” he spat out the title.

“The map to Skywalker,” Ren emphasized every word, bitter through his helmet. “We know you found it.” He slowly stalked around the man. “And now you’re going to give it to the First Order.”

He just smiled. Eighty-seven thought it was a terrible idea to test the sith’s patience. “The First Order rose from the dark side. You did not.”

Ren paused and his Knights took out their weapons. Approaching the man, he drawled, “I’ll show you the dark side.”

“You may try,” he warned.

Eighty-seven slowly moved his blaster.

“Easy, kid,” Hunter rasped in his ear. “Don’t do something stupid.”

FN-2187 signed an affirmative behind his back followed by a quick ‘go away’ , wanting them nowhere near Ren.

“But you cannot deny the truth that is your family,” he gravely said.

Kylo cocked his head to the side. “You’re so right,” he replied with a tease.

Eighty-seven’s head pounded, making him stumble back a step.

Ren’s saber ignited in the darkness, casting a red glow on everything around it. With a mighty swing, he brought it above his head before striking down on the man. The people around him screamed.

The sound of blaster fire had all the troopers flinching.

Near the dunes, a man with tan skin and dark hair stood with his weapon raised with the bolt just…stopped in the air. FN-2187 found Ren with his arm raised in the man’s direction.

A resistance fighter if he had to guess.

Two troopers rushed over, delivering a few hits to the man. He hit the dusty ground before being yanked up. As they dragged him closer, he stared back at the blaster bolt still suspended in the air.

Something about the man…Eighty-seven couldn’t put his finger on it. He just hoped his death would be quick and painless.

He was sent to knees in front of Ren, looking for an escape and finding none.

Eighty-seven just blinked when Ren crouched in front of him. This was confusing him.

“So, who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?”

Now he was more confused. Did he have a death wish?

“The old man gave it to you.” He had a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Shit. He’s dead.

The man splayed his fingers out and gestured to the sith’s covered face. “It’s just very hard to understand you with all the…” 

“Search him.”

He was yanked to his feet with a groan. “Apparatus,” he finished. One of the troopers patted along his body, finding nothing.

“Nothing, sir,” the same trooper reported.

“Put him on board.”

The stormtroopers did as instructed, bringing him toward the ship. The Knights followed behind him. Ren followed his every room.

Phasma stalked forward, armor glowing in the fire light. “Sir, the villagers?”

A lump formed in FN-2187’s throat.

The man slowly turned to the group of cowering people, clutching onto their remaining loved ones. “Kill them all,” he decided easily.

And thus the sounds of blasters cocking filled Eighty-seven’s ears.

“Lift them,” a soft whisper told him. He couldn’t make out which clone it was, too far away. But he listened, bile rising in his throat.

The villagers started screaming and pleaded.

“On my command.”

He stared down his scope, landing on a young woman with tears streaming down her face.

“Fire.”

Blaster bolts rang out, more screams following.

“Please, no!” the prisoner shouted from the ramp.

FN-2187 couldn’t pull the trigger. He refused to, letting his hands drop to his side.

Once everyone had been killed, the troopers began to search around the burning remains for any other witnesses. But FN-2187 couldn’t help but watch Kylo Ren. Then the man paused in his steps, turning and staring directly at him. He could feel his cold stare through both of their visors. He went stiff with anxiety.

Ren only held the contact for a moment before continuing on his way. But Eighty-seven felt something linger in the air.

Then he jumped when the suspended blaster bolt finally went off, sending him back into panicked breathing.

An explosion went off as some of the troopers destroyed the ship nearby, leaving little traces behind.

And FN-2187 got back into the transport with a numb mind.

Time passed slowly and quickly at the same time. He felt the ship re-dock within the star cruiser, and a dreadful feeling of anxiety crushed into him.

He stumbled out of the transport, watching the prisoner get led away to the detention center or worse—interrogation.

He still couldn’t fucking breathe.

Eighty-seven found himself back into one of the empty transports, ripping his helmet off while facing a corner. More oxygen came into his lungs but not enough.

“Come on, kih’vod, breathe for me.”

He peered up at the figure in front of him. The scar through the man’s left eye and his medical insignia told him it was Coric in his scrambled mind.

“You’re done.” He adopted that soft tone most of the clones used with him. “You did so good. Now, I need you to just take a breath.”

He slowed his breathing down the best he could, finding a scuff in the clone’s armor very interesting.

Coric hesitated before reaching a hand out and placing it on his nape. “Good. Thank you. Just slow down.”

Another clone stepped up next to the medic. 501st blue as well. Designs that he hadn’t realized he missed so much.

“You ready to talk?” There was urgency in Rex’s voice.

FN-2187’s head snapped up, not truly believing it. He was finally going to get answers. He nodded, tears brimming in his eyes with the events.

“Bucket on. Start walking.”

FN-2187 did as he was ordered, seeing a few other command clones pop up and start walking alongside him.

“We don’t have much time,” Wolffe opened with. “And a lot of this just won’t make sense but you need to hear it.”

This was making him nervous. A hand appeared on his shoulder. Seventeen by the tight grip.

“The Sith hijacked our creation on Kamino,” Cody rushed out. “They put chips in our heads programmed with orders that would activate and wipe us clean, making us do whatever they wanted. They took our loyalty and twisted it for their own benefit.”

That thought made him pause right in the middle of the hallway, looking at all of them. His heart broke .

Order waved him on. “Pity us later, keep walking.”

He stuttered back into step.

“The First Order rose from the Empire. You know this. But what you don’t know is that the Empire is responsible for the eradication of the Jedi Order. Even the younglings. They started the Clone Wars through the Separatist Union.”

He felt dizzy. Hands wrapped around his arms, keeping him up right. 

Okay, maybe too much information.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked them desperately. He needed them to just tell him. Needed orders.

“We’re not asking you to do anything,” Ponds said.

Keeli walked backwards in front of him. “This is your choice. No matter what.”

Eighty-seven looked to Rex. His brown eyes were so clouded with so many things. “What is it?” he whispered to the man, pausing in the hallway again.

The blond slowly walked to him. “We want you to desert the First Order.”

“FN-2187,” a voice snapped out his name. Phasma.

He turned to her, lies forming on his tongue as he snapped into attention.

“Submit your blaster for inspection.”

“Yes, Captain.” Fuck.

“And report to my division at once.”

“Yes, Captain.” Double Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Phasma continued back the way she came, armor giving soft clinks as she walked.

Boss appeared in front of him as he just stared down the hallway. His cold hand lifted his chin. “Eighty-seven, what does she mean?”

He couldn’t even say it.

“Kih’vod,” someone warned.

He still didn’t know the damn meaning of that word. That was all he could think about at the moment.

“Eighty-seven,” Seventeen snapped out.

“Reconditioning,” he muttered.

A slew of Mando’a left the clones, curses if he had to guess, and Rex took his arm and started walking him down the hall. FN-2187 could barely feel him. His back was pressed against a wall after taking a few turns in the hall.

“Eighty-seven, I need you to listen to me.”

Rex’s voice sounded like he was underwater. Eighty-seven pulled his helmet off, tipping his head back to the ceiling. “Okay,” he whispered.

“You need to make a choice. If you don’t show up to Phasma soon, they’ll send a squad for you.”

He couldn’t make the choice, constantly bouncing back and forth. He groaned, his head beginning to hurt. Rex’s hands cradled the sides of his head, thumbs stroking his temples. Tears stung at his eyes.

“We’re right here.” Ordo’s eyes shined with determination. “Let us save you.”

FN-2187 felt the words get stuck in his throat.

“Don’t let him get wiped,” a small voice spoke.

Eighty-seven looked to his right and saw a clone he’d never seen before with 501st armor. His hair was cropped short and a tattoo across a bit of his face. Young, like Tup, Comet, and Wooley.

All the commanders went still.

“Dogma,” Rex breathed, his hands going lax against Eighty-seven.

FN-2187 locked eyes with Dogma. Just for a minute. The man, the boy , tipped his head to the side, a wordless plea.

“I want out,” Eighty-seven finally pleaded, his heart rushing with his words. Dogma just disappeared in front of them.

“Alright,” Bacara announced. “Now pay attention.”

…

FN-2187 kept his footsteps strong and even, blaster in his hands as he turned down to the interrogation sector of the cruiser.

He heard screaming echoing in the halls not long ago. His stomach twisted at the memory of it.

A blast door to the integration room opened as he activated the sensor.

The resistance fighter looked like shit. He had blood caked all over him, his eyes shut with residual pain with a furrow in his brow. Not good, but FN-2187 would drag him if he had to.

The trooper on guard shifted his weight in his presence.

“Ren wants the prisoner,” he said smoothly, keeping the appearance that everything was normal.

The trooper didn’t even question it, hitting a button on the control pad.

The restraints lifted from the resistance fighter, making the man lift his head with a tired and suspicious glare.

“Move,” Eighty-seven ordered, watching the man slowly get to his feet.

The man stumbled, knees weak from his torture. He caught the man easily, trying to cushion his touch as much as possible, not wanting to cause him more harm. He slips a pair of binders on his wrists, keeping them loose over the bruised and blooded wrists.

He marched them down the hall, keeping the blaster against his ribs.

“Clear for now,” Crosshair drawled to him as they passed the sniper. “But I suggest you make your little chat quick.”

FN-2187 found a small opening in one of the maintenance hatches. “Turn here.”

The resistance fighter gave a soft sound of pain, but just stared at him as they squeezed together.

“Listen carefully,” Eighty-seven whispered. “If you do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.”

“W-What?” the man asked, and FN-2187 would later blame the possible concussion.

He hesitated before lifting his helmet off. The man ran his eyes over his face. “This is a rescue,” he said, tense with anxiety. “I’m helping you escape . Can you fly a TIE fighter?”

The clones had done recon as much as they could with their time on the ship, learning the rotations and logs for the weapons and smaller ships. A TIE fighter would be their best option.

A brightness flashed in the man’s brown eyes. “You’re with the Resistance?”

Eighty-seven shook his head with a sigh. “No, I’m not. I’m breaking you out. Can you fly a TIE fighter?” he repeated, voice getting higher.

“Wrap it up, verd’ika,” Monnk announced from further in the hall.

The man smirked slightly, filling with cocky energy. “I can fly anything.”

Eighty-seven couldn’t stop the small smile from developing, making the other man do so as well.

“Why?” the man posed. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said simply. All his life, the First Order had groomed him into the perfect soldier, a machine for killing. And he didn’t want that.

The man started nodding, smile growing. “We’re gonna do this.”

FN-2187 started leading them back to the hanger, avoiding the hallways that the clones instructed him to. They entered the hangar, the ceiling high in the air and with many troopers, pilots, and command walking around, going about their business.

“Stay calm,” Fordo said to him, walking behind them.

“I am calm,” he hissed back, not feeling calm at all with the nerves swimming inside of him. If they were caught, they’d be executed in an instance.

The pilot in his grasp looked over his shoulder a bit. “What?”

Shit . “Talking to myself,” he brushed him off. He saw the man starting to get antsy, eyes landing on the TIE fighter. “Not yet,” he murmured, eyeing the batch of troopers and lieutenants walking by. “Okay, move,” he said once they were gone.

They rushed over to the closest fighter, jumping into the cockpit with ease after FN-2187 released his cuffs.

“I’ve always wanted to fly one of these things,” the man said with a chuckle in his voice.

FN-2187 just prayed the clones would follow.

“Can you shoot?” the pilot asked him.

He yanked off his helmet, tossing it to the floor. “In theory, never actually tried it,” he answered honestly, hands already flying over the controls to familiarize himself.

“Okay, same principle as a blaster.” Clicks and flipping came from the man’s side. “You know how to toggle ammunition?”

FN-2187 skimmed his thumb over the control, nodding. “Yes.”

“Use the right side to aim. Trigger to fire.”

He just groaned. “So many damn buttons.” Then he was launched forward as they took off, the ion engines firing. Then he was yanked back with the ship caught onto the cable still attached.

Eighty-seven winced. “Shit, forgot to mention that.”

“I can fix this!” the man shouted. Then they just proceeded to get yanked back again.

“You sure about that?” he sassed.

After a few seconds, Bly said to him. “You’ve been made by command.”

Then blaster fire started.

“Shit!” Eighty-seven shouted, heart skipping a beat as one hit the glass, just in front of his face. Without thinking, he took the controls and fired off a few rounds of his own, causing destruction everywhere.

“Take out the—” Seventeen started to order but FN-2187 was ahead of him, demolishing one of the TIE fighters against the wall. Then he toggled his ammunition and turned his fire onto the command deck, spraying glass everywhere.

“I got it,” came from behind him. 

The cable released and they were hurtling through space once they were outside of the ray shield.

They both yelled.

“Woah, this thing really moves!”

The pilot eased them around.

“We’ve gotta take out as many of these cannons as we can, or we won’t make it very far. I’m gonna get us in position. Just stay sharp.”

He focused his eyes outside of the viewport, finger on the trigger. His screen flashed as the pilot locked onto one of the cannons. He heard the man starting his sentence but he already pulled the trigger toward one of the cannons before moving to the other side.

“Yeah!”

“Yes!” The man shouted with a laugh.

He flew them out of range of the cruiser, and Eighty-seven felt…free. He wasn’t sure if that was the proper term but it would do for now.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“FN-2187,” he reported clinically.

“F…what?!”

Green still erupted on his skin and armor from the blaster fire from the cruiser. Just shrugged. “That’s the only name they ever gave me.”

The man scoffed. “Well, I ain’t using it. FN, huh?” He took a moment to think. “Finn. I’m gonna call you, Finn.”

Finn . 

He rolled it around in his head. Something in his heart and mind just clicked into place, a burst of warmth rushing over him.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Finn. I like that.”

“I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

Finn didn’t know if he’d ever been so happy since meeting the clones on that fateful day. “Good to meet you, Poe.”

“Good to meet you too, Finn.”

Sounds of large engines and blaster fire came, and ice rushed down his spine. “That would be the ventral cannons,” he warned.

Poe maneuvered around, bobbing and weaving through them the best he could. “One’s coming toward you! Your left.”

Finn kept his hands steady, wanting until…there. “I see it.” He opened fire and managed to detonate one of them.

“Nice shot!” Poe praised him. 

Finn noticed how they were getting close to Jakku. “Where are we going?” he hadn’t thought this part through.

“We’re going back to Jakku. That’s where.”

He turned his head. “We can’t go back to Jakku. We need to get out of this system and fast.”

“I gotta get my droid before the First Order does,” Poe argued.

Finn sighed, tipping his head back. “Damn it,” he whispered.  “A droid?”

“He’s a BB unit, orange and white. One of a kind.”

“What could you possibly need a droid for? We have to get as far away from the First Order as we can. If we go back, we die. They’ll send troopers for us. Or Ren’s Knights.”

Well, he determined Poe was one stubborn son of a bitch. “That droid has a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker.”

Fuck. Of course he gave it to the droid. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” he whispered.

He didn’t want this. He just wanted to be free from the Order, not wrapped up in some cursaude with a Resistance pilot. He just wanted to get him and Poe as far away as possible.

The TIE fighter jerked and erupted in an explosion as the canon laser slammed into them, sending them spiraling.

A hand just grabbed onto him as he closed his eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t reach the afterlife as they rushed toward the planet.

…

Finn started dreaming. At least, he thought he did.

Instead of the snowy forest, it was a blurry view of a throne room of sorts. Dark and cold.

The sounds of steady breathing came from a vocoder nearby. The sounds sent shivers down his spine.

A yell of pain echoed in the halls. One of pure anguish and agony.

He turned and just then a red lightsaber struck right through him, cutting through his body.

Finn jerked awake to a bright sun that had him shutting his eyes as he gasped. His face and body felt hot, practically roasting.

“Shhhh, shhhh. Take it easy.”

He relaxed under the familiar cadence and soft accent. He blinked and moved his head around, seeing half of the damn army of GAR surrounding him, just figures at this point in his blurry vision. Groaning as he reached for the harness release, he rolled into the sand once he fell.

“Verd’ika, you okay?” someone asked him but he couldn’t be bothered. 

Poe was nowhere around. Just Finn’s ejected seat.

He turned until he caught sight of smoke in the distance. And he started running.

“Osik—kid!”

He just kept running, lungs protesting but his legs refused to abandon him.

After a long time of running, he finally reached the wreckage. “Poe!” There was no answer, just the smell of burning mechanisms, oil, and ozone. “Poe!”

He stood in front of the TIE fighter.

“Don’t even think—”

He ignored the warning of A’den, approaching the wreckage closer. The fire licked at his body. Through the smoke and broken glass, he saw the pilot’s jacket. He grabbed onto it and yanked, expecting the weight of a grown man to make it harder, but he revealed just the jacket. “Poe!” he shouted once again.

“Um…” Tech’s worried voice came from behind. “You are standing in quicksand.”

Finn began to argue. “But—”

The commanders had that look in their eyes.

“Now!” Thorn ordered.

The ground shook beneath him. He took a few steps back, watching as the TIE fighter sank into the sand. He just stared and watched.

Then, without his permission, his knees slowly buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. So many things hurt.

Whispers rushed around.

The TIE fighter exploded, making him give a soft scream and cover his ears. “Shit!” Sand and smoke sprayed everywhere.

Hands caught him before he could eat sand, like they could protect him from the blow. Sweat dripped across his skin. His body felt so inflamed, like he couldn’t move.

“Armor off,” Echo said, kneeling in front of him as he caught his breath with Boost holding him up. “It’ll help.”

He fumbled with the clasps, ripping them open. He tossed the plastoid to the side. He did feel lighter once everything was off.

Echo gave him a nod and a smile. “Better?”

He just groaned.

“ Please tell me you’re not hiding anything broken,” Helix begged, stepping closer.

Finn frowned. “I…don’t think so.” Nothing felt broken at least. Pain, yes, but nothing major. Nothing like what happened to Poe.

“He doesn't look good.” He heard some of the 104th troopers converse.

“ He can hear you,” he reminded them.

Wolffe gave his men a glare.

All Finn could do was stare at the remains of the ship. Poe was gone.

“Talk to us here,” Keeli pleaded with him.

“Did I kill him?” he asked them with a whisper. It grated against his throat.

“No.” Cody went on his knees in front of him, lifting his head. Finn could still see the smoke and settling sand around the commander. “Don’t think like that. He knew the risks.”

Finn didn’t believe him.

“Kid’vod, he was a Resistance fighter. He was ready to sacrifice himself.” Ponds’ voice rushed over him.

Finn closed his eyes. He wouldn’t cry no matter how much he wanted to. “What do I do?” he asked them all, needing someone to guide him.

“Start walking,” Grey answered dryly.

So he got onto his feet, glancing around all the clones. “Didn’t realize there were this many of you.” Thousands of them. Allowing him to see them. Many of them tried to hide their smirks. He started off into the distance from all sides. “Any suggestions which way?”

They pointed toward east. So that’s where he walked.

…

He’d been walking for an hour at the least, trudging through the sand dunes. It sucked all the strength from his body, making him so damn tired.

“Someone please talk before I lose my mind,” his aching voice pleaded to the clones, keeping his eyes forward.

“About what?” Jet posed.

Finn gritted his teeth as his ankle rolled in the sand. “Fucking anything . I’m begging you.”

“Well at least you don’t have human sized bug people after you,” Ponds grumbled, obviously still pissed off about whatever he was talking about.

Finn squinted in the bright sunlight at the commander to his left. “Bug people?”

“Geonosians,” Cody supplied helpfully.

“Fuck that damn planet,” one of the troopers mumbled from behind him. “I got killed by a damn bug that could barely fly straight. It’s osik.”

Finn felt bad for snorting, but the sun was starting to make everything a bit woozy. As he snickered, the clones continued to tell him stories about the two deployments to Geonosis and how it kicked off the war. He felt they left a few details out but he saw pain in the older clones' eyes, so he didn’t pry.

He asked for more stories if only to distract him from the pain radiating in his body. Sweat dripped down his skin, and his limbs felt so heavy. Some of the clones moved ahead so he was completely surrounded by them.

The troopers laughed and joked with each other even if they discussed some of their deaths. This continued for hours, just endless sand greeting him.

“You think your shinies were bad?” Doom questioned Grey. “I had Arsonal.”

Finn didn’t know how they got to this conversation, but he was paying half attention anyway, feeling he was about to pass out.

The other commanders chimed in with their troopers complaining behind him.

Then Rex looked back. “I win. I had the dominoes.”

The entire army paused before giving groans and words of agreement.

Up ahead, Fives and Echo turned around scandalized.

“I thought you loved me,” Fives pouted to Rex, making the captain roll his eyes.

Echo pointed to Fives. “He was the bad one! I’m innocent.” All the commanders and 501st troopers stared at him in disbelief. Then he sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t even believe that one.”

A man next to Fives walked backward with a smirk toward Rex. “Imagine if you had all five of us in Torrent.” He had a different accent, or maybe Finn was starting to lose it.

Rex just blinked straight ahead. “Don’t make me think about that, Cutup. The twins give me enough trouble.”

Finn frowned, feeling more sluggish. “Twins?”

Colt hummed. “Twins are possible in tubies. Genetic engineering isn’t always perfect. Fives and Echo are probably the most notorious because they’re bad-shit crazy.”

The twin gave twin smirks that promised destruction.

“You conducted our ARC training, so you have half the blame,” Echo argued. “Anakin had the other half.” His voice slowed toward the end, face falling.

Somberness draped over Finn like a wet blanket, and that was his final straw. His knees buckled, sending him to the sand.

“Shit.”

“Damn.”

“That’s not good.”

Finn groaned quietly, feeling the whiplash set fire to his neck and spine along with the minor burns he received.

“Finn, what hurts?” someone asked him with a soothing voice. He wanted it to wrap around him and stay inside of his chest.

“Everything.” Black spots danced around his vision. “I think I’m going to pass out,” he rushed out.

“Easy.” Seventeen steadied him. “You need to breathe.”

All he could take in was hot air and sand that blew up. It wasn’t working. He was shifted around, forced to lay across the dunes.

“Jacket over your head,” Rex ordered, sitting right near his head. Finn sluggishly followed his order, feeling his chest struggling to get air.

Hands touched his body, propping his knees up while more darkness spotted his vision as he opened his eyes under the protection of the leather. Their cold touch helped a bit.

“Rex—”

“Shhhhh. We’re right here. Just take a rest.”

Faceless voices rushed over him.

“He could overheat.”

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“He was going to pass out anyway.”

“Is there anything we can do? Scout ahead?”

“Jakku’s a big planet, ori’vod.”

When he came back to himself, the voices were still talking, but he couldn’t care. Hands held his head steady in the dunes. Finn twitched.

“Back with us, Finn?”

His name still felt so new, especially on their tongues. He nodded, slowly peeling the jacket back. “How long?” he asked tiredly, leaning into the palm.

“An hour at the most,” Blitz said with a pat to his leg. “But we need you to keep moving, kid’vod,” he whispered to him to soften the blow.

Finn took a second before sitting up. He rolled his neck with a wince. “Had to be fucking Jakku.”

The commanders got him to his feet, steadying him when he started tilting. But like a good soldier, he continued marching forward. And when he stumbled, they just reached out and straightened him up.

“I’m starting to lose my mind here,” he whispered to Tup as the sun started to dip past midday.

He clasped their hands. “Just a bit longer.”

“That’s what they’ve been saying for the past five hours.”

Tup’s face contorted, about to speak when he was interrupted.

“Settlement, about three klicks out,” one of the scouts reported as he walked back toward them.

Finn wanted to cry in relief, but he swallowed them back. He peered over the dune, seeing it with his own eyes. It was small, but it was a start.

…

It took another hour and half to break through the outskirts. Most of the clones disappeared, not wanting to distract him but promised they would stay close by.

Scorch stuck close to his left side while Crosshair did the same on his right.

“Pay attention,” the sharpshooter ordered. “Need to figure out how to get you off this hell hole.”

He signed droid to the man, trying to make it a question with his expression while standing around people.

Scorch shook his head. “Too risky. Your focus should be just surviving.” Then he softened his approach. “I know you feel guilty, but we need to get out of here before we hash all that out. Alright?”

He hated it when they made sense. Normally, he would’ve charged back and argued that he had to do this, but not when it came to the clones. They had this look of theirs that kept him glued into place, and with a few soft words, he’d do what they instructed him. Because he knew they had more experience than him and just wanted to keep him safe.

He walked carefully under the tents, his burning skin nearly crying in relief for the shade from the hot sun. But then something caught his eye while the commanders and a few others went into discussion.

About thirty feet away was a girl crouching in the sand to talk to a droid. Something about her…he felt drawn to her. He took a step closer.

Suddenly, two inhabitants of the planet approached her, one of them throwing a bag over the droid.

“What?” the girl said in surprise. “Oi, get off him!”

Then she was wrapped in a bear hug from behind.

Finn knew the clones had told him to stay with them, but this felt wrong. He took a few more steps to save the girl.

“Hey!” he shouted to get their attention.

Then she started kicking their asses.

He watched as she bit at the thug’s arm, making him release her. She whipped her bo staff around, clipping the man away. A second one came after her and the first recovered. But she just kept kicking and bashing them anywhere she could reach.

He paused, brows raised in astonishment. “Damn,” he muttered in shock, impressed by her skills.

She glared at the two thugs on the ground then went back to her droid, uncovering the big around it. The droid rolled around a bit, happy to be free. But it was orange and white.

He stepped closer, able to hear some of what she was saying.

“They work for Unkar.”

He briskly walked forward to get a closer look, unable to believe it was Poe’s droid.

“He must’ve really wanted you.”

The droid suddenly turned to him, giving a pitched whirl before turning back to the girl while still continuing to chirp.

“Who?” she asked, looking around before locking eyes with him. “Him?” And she did not look happy, baring her teeth as she started to charge toward him. At least he thought she was.

He waited another few seconds.

Nope, most definitely coming after me.

He started to sprint away, looking for any of the clones. Ducking through tents, he nearly spilled into the sand but managed to catch his footing. He turned his head and he couldn’t see any sight of the girl.

Maybe I got away .

Then he took a piece of hard metal to the face.

Chapter Text

“Fuck!” Finn exclaimed as he hit the ground of Jakku’s hard sandstone. Pain sparked across his face from the piece of metal, tasting a ping of copper in his mouth.

A hand appeared on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you ever listen?” Boss hissed to him. Finn couldn’t give a response, but he really wanted to snap at the man. It’s not his fault he was trying to save the girl from getting attacked. He groaned, looking up at the end of the girl’s bo staff as she leveled it at his face.

“What’s your hurry, thief ?”

He glared at her. He noticed how the sand had stained her clothes and the sun had created soft freckles on her nose. “I’m not a thief, thank you very much.” His words dropped off as the droid rolled over, one the compartments opening.

Finn started to panic as the small electrode came out. He shifted in the sand to get away, but he still got zapped in the leg. His body erupted with electricity. For a second, he saw the bright lights of the restricted sector. “Ow! What?”

“The jacket,” she insisted. “This droid says you stole it.”

So he is Poe’s . He felt the weight of the jacket on his shoulders and back.

“Say something, get out of this,” Wolffe whispered to him. 

“Look,” he gritted out. “I've had a pretty messed up day, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop accusing me of—” Another bout of electricity went through him. “Stop it!” he roared at the droid.

“Udessi,” one of the clones whispered, sensing his irritation.

The girl tightened her expression. “Where’d you get it? It belongs to his master.”

He thought about lying, just getting out of this better never looking back. But he couldn’t do it. He took the squeeze against his hand as permission. “Poe Dameron?” he questioned the droid softly. 

The little droid looked between the two of them.

“He was captured by the First Order.” He remembered how much terror flooded his body as he agreed to help free the pilot. “I helped him escape but our ship crashed.” He sighed, looking at the droid. “He didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

The droid gave a sad sound, dipping his head lower. The girl only stared at the droid, bo staff lowering a few inches.

“I tried,” he whispered to the sad mech. “I’m so sorry.”

The droid just rolled away with both of them watching him leave. The girl pressed her staff into the sand, staring down at him.

He sat up, brushing sand off of his hands.

“So you’re with the Resistance?”

Finn tried to not snap his head up at the question. He peeked at the commanders to his left, needing them to tell him what to do.

Rex analyzed the situation carefully, same with Bacara.

“Lie and say yes,” they both said. 

Finn and the girl met eyes. “Yes,” he groaned as he stood up. “I’m with the Resistance.”

She developed a soft, almost shy smile. “I’ve never met a Resistance fighter before.”

“There aren’t many in the inner rim,” the lie just rolled off his tongue and more just kept coming. “We tend to stay toward the outer.” He could only pull from information he received through the First Order. “It’s not surprising if you’ve lived on Jakku your whole life.”

“BB-8 says he’s on a secret mission. He has to get back to your base,” she explained, voice getting faster with excitement.

Bitterness appeared in his laugh a bit. “Apparently, he has a map that leads to Luke Skywalker and everyone’s after it.” He tossed a hand in the air.

Her smile just grew. “Luke Skywalker?” she whispered. “I thought he was a myth.”

Then BB-8’s chirps could be heard, rolling anxiously around them.

“What?”

They both rushed to follow, and Finn’s heart stopped. 

In the distance, he saw familiar pure white armor. Two men were talking to a local. Stormtroopers had found them.

“Run, right now.” Rex ordered him.

Finn grabbed the girl’s hand, making her gap at him.

“What are you doing?” she insisted.

“Come on!”

He rushed them through  the tents, calling back for BB-8. Blaster shots fired near them, bolts banging off pieces of metal or into the sand.

“Let go of me!”

“We have to move!” he argued with her over the ringing of shots.

She groaned, trying to yank out of his grip. “I know how to run without you holding my hand!”

He reluctantly let go, and she took charge, bobbing and weaving through the obstacles of tables and support beams.

“BB-8 hurry! This way.”

They managed to lose the two troopers, ducking under a tent.

He immediately started searching for any kind of weapon on the tables. 

“They’re shooting at both of us.” She panted where she held onto the support beam.

“Thank you for pointing that out,” he sassed. He received a flick to the head from Bacara. Finn just continued on. “You were seen with me. Now you’re marked.”

She scoffed. “Well thanks for that.”

He turned back to look at her. “Hey, I’m not the one who chased you down with a stick.” He’d come up empty handed. “Does anyone have damn blasters around here?”

“Think quicker,” Doom said. “Throw weapons out of the equation.”

He glared at the man, trying to think, but nothing was coming to mind. The girl was speaking softly to the droid, soothing him with kind words.

Then he heard something. “Shhhh, sh.”

BB-8 and the girl went quiet.

That familiar sound sent nails down his spine. Ion engines. Finn grasped her again and dragged her out of the tent with her complaint of “Stop taking my hand!”

As they ran out of the tent, a TIE fighter flew directly over them, the engine screeching.

The sound of a cannon firing was all Finn heard before he was thrown into the air. His body flailed but he went limp before he hit the ground. His ears rung and debris floated on top of him, flooding his lungs.

Chaos erupted around them, the villagers fleeing for their lives.

“Fuck TIE fighters,” he grunted out. He saw the girl crawling to him. “Are you okay?”

She shakily nodded. “Yeah. I think.” She offered him a hand. “Follow me.” And he took it.

They continued to run in the sand, the cannon fire making sand and stone explode around them in geysers. 

He saw the airway approach, only a few ships left. “We can’t outrun them!”

“We might…” she shouted back to him. “In that quad jumper.”

He should’ve just turned the other way and ran until he couldn’t, but his mind and soul begged him not to.

“We need a pilot!”

She tossed her free hand out. “We’ve got one.”

“Well I’ll just collect as many pilots as I damn well please,” he mumbled to himself. Then he noticed one of the other ships. “What about that one?” he pointed to it as they ran past.

She barely even looked that way. “That’s one’s garbage. ”

They nearly made it to quad jumper when a TIE fighter swung over it, sending it into oblivion. They both paused, staring at the fire and debris for just a moment.

“Garbage will do?” he asked her.

She gave a short nod. “Garbage will do.”

They turned in the sand, making their way to the large, disk-shaped freighter.

They made their way up the ramp, narrowly avoiding the TIE fighters.

“Gunner position is down there!” she pointed in its direction.

Finn followed the hallway and down the ladder, finding the mount. “You ever fly this thing?”

“No!” her voice rang out. “This ship hasn’t flown in years.”

Finn paused. “Very reassuring.”

Havoc grumbled. “Pick your battles. You’d be a sitting duck if it wasn’t for her.”

He got into the seat and immediately it sent him moving around. “Son of a bitch.” Eventually, he found his balance, fiddling with the controls. His hands went sweaty.

The thrusters started firing as they began to lift but they jerked around. Finn went veering toward the right side as they skimmed the ground, hitting the dunes.

“Wait! Stay low.” A tanned hand pointed to the left. He picked up the comm device and activated it. “Stay law!

“What? Why?” her voice cracked over the radio.

He switched to cannon fire on the controls, the screen coming to life. “Stay low,” he repeated. “It confuses their tracking system.”

She pulled back on the yoke because they were sent hurling back to the ground with TIE fighters still chasing after them.

A bolt hit the ship, rocking them.

“What are you doing back there?!” Her voice held exasperation.

“Maybe fly straight! I’m trying.”

“Are you going to fire back?”

“I’m working on it. Are the shields up?” They were going to need them or be blasted into oblivion.

“Would be easier with a copilot!”

Finn scoffed. “Try sitting in this thing.” He hit a few controls to stabilize his seat.

A fighter crossed into his crosshairs, his system giving warnings to shoot. He fired the cannons but the fighters evaded. “We need cover and quick!” he suggested.

“We’re about to get some!”

He wasn’t so sure about that.

They skimmed the ground and Finn saw ruined pieces of old ships rushing by. Finn just kept firing.

She made a sharp left turn.

“Come on,” he gritted out. He patiently waited until…now. He fired off a few more rounds and he sent one TIE fighter spiraling into the side of an old star cruiser.

“Nice shot!” she praised.

“I don’t want this job ever again,” he whispered. Fives snorted behind him.

Then the cannon got jammed after taking a hit.

“You gotta lose him! Cannon’s stuck in forward position.”

A few beats of silence passed. He nearly repeated himself when she said, “Get ready.”

“Okayyy. For what?”

They dipped into the ion engine of a cruiser, flying through the ship. He stared jaw-slacked at the sheer size. “Woah.”

So many hallways, levels, everything. Massive. He never realized how big they were.

They darted out to the right and she directed the ship up and over before shutting off the engines.

Finn closed his eyes as his stomach flipped. “Oh shit.” He forced them open, gravity trying to pull him out of the seat. The TIE fighter shot directly at the cannon, but Finn was quicker. Way quicker. He nailed the fighter and it exploded.

She threw the engines back on. 

“Woo!” he cheered. He leaned back into his seat as they flew out of the atmosphere, drifting forward. He made his way up the ladder.

“That was some flying.”

“Nice shooting.”

Finn chuckled at their overlapping words, pulling a laugh from her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“How did you do that?” he asked, seeing more clones appear. Just a few, but they had fond looks on their faces.

She just giggled, a smile bright on her face.

“No one trained you?” He couldn’t believe that. Poe was a damn good pilot, but he had training.

“No! I’ve flown some ships, but I’ve never left the planet.”

“That was amazing,” he said as they started to circle around each other.

“Your last shot was dead-on,” she cut her hand through the air to make her point.

Their words continued to go over each other until they both ran out of steam.

BB-8 beeped, getting her attention.

“You’re okay,” she said firmly. “He’s with the Resistance.”

Finn’s face fell, feeling guilty about his lie already. Especially when the droid’s optics traveled around him, bouncing between disbelief and hope.

“He’s going to get you home. We both will.”

Finn wanted to break right then and there, the lie burning in his soul. One of the first people he’d ever interacted with outside of the First Order and he lied straight to her face. The clones went tense around him—he could feel it in the air.

The girl slowly stood up and turned around. Her face became contemplative. “I don’t know your name.”

He gave a hint of a smile. “Finn,” he answered softly. “What’s yours?”

She smiled at him. “I’m Rey.”

…

They just floated through space for an hour while Rey explored the ship, unable to contain her excitement. BB-8 went with her, leaving Finn alone in the common area of the ship.

He looked around, seeing it was well lived in. Things were scattered around, a mix between messy and neat. Scrapes and dents were in the durasteel, chips of paint missing. Finn could’ve sat there for hours and come up with different backstories for each one of them.

His eyes suddenly burned with tears as his adrenaline crashed. He rested his head down on the table, folding his arms. Sobs rattled inside of him.

A hand appeared on his back, making him flinch.

The clones just spoke over his soft cries, giving him something else to focus on while he gathered himself.

Once he ran out of tears, he turned his head to the side. Nearly the entire floor was taken up by the clones sitting down, some nearly on top of one another to make more room.

Neyo clocked him immediately. “You okay? As much as you can be?”

Finn just nodded.

Charger was the one that sat next to him, hand resting on his spine. He pulled Finn a bit closer to him, giving him the room to lean on him. Finn did so for just a moment to thank him.

“How am I supposed to keep the lie up?” he whispered while messing with his broken fingernails. He couldn’t do this alone. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be alone again.

They had crashed into his life months ago, but he felt like he’d known them his whole life. He knew there were things they weren’t going to tell him or couldn’t until they could be sure about him, but at this point he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted them.

“We don’t know much about the Resistance, verd’ika.” Doom’s words put a damper on his already sour mood.

“Finn.”

He looked up at the call of his name, heart fluttering as Rex said it. It sounded right coming from them.

The captain of the 501st had a stern gaze. “This isn’t going to be easy. We are going to help you the best we can, but you’re already capable of doing so.”

Finn stared down at his hands. All he heard growing up in the First Order was how much of a fuck-up he was, never an ounce of praise. He didn’t know what the clones saw in him.. “How do you know?” he asked.

“You’re smart,” Ordo said. “You have a good head on your shoulders. You notice things others don’t.” Finn locked eyes with him. “You’re special.”

He shook his head. “I’m just a stormtrooper.”

Hardcase laughed. “Just a stormtrooper that freed a Resistance prisoner and escaped the First Order within twelve hours. I’d like to see ten of them go against you.”

Finn started to shake his head but nearly every clone started an uproar. He blinked at the response, looking at all of them. So many eyes, so many individuals. Each one felt different to him, but he couldn’t explain it.

“Finn, you’re different ,” Crys insisted, squeezing his foot through his boot.

So many heads nodded in agreement.

“I don’t understand ,” he whispered. They were trying to lead him to something. Trying to guide him to some revelation. But he was missing certain pieces that he just couldn’t grasp. “Why are you all here? You could go anywhere else until you all pass into Manda, but you’re with me of all people.”

Bacara groaned, and Wolffe rolled his eyes along with so many other clones.

Finn was prepared for so many things.

‘It’s an obligation.’

‘You’d die without us, and we don’t need that weighing us down.’

‘We’re bored.’

He was ready for the hammer to drop.

Kom’rk moved to sit on the curved seat right in front of Finn. He blinked at the intensity in his eyes. This was a man who had seen enough to last many lifetimes.

“Aliit ori’shya taldin,” the Mando’a rolled off of him lightning quick, fluid in a way that Finn was jealous. “Do you know what that means?”

He gave Finn a minute to think. He could piece together a few words, but he knew he couldn’t fully understand. “Something about blood.”

“Family is more than blood,” the Null answered.

He closed his eyes softly when Kom’rk lifted his chin. Finn’s heart and head did that little flutter again.

“You don’t know how to let people care about you.” Blitz lowered his voice as he spoke, losing his aggressive assertiveness. “But that’s our job now.”

These men were trying to kill him. Tears stung as Kom’rk’s hand moved to his nape.

“That was one of the first things Jango said to us,” the Null continued, whispering just for Finn to hear. “He never let us forget our Mandarloian values, even when we began to see another man as our father,, but this one isn’t just for Mandalorians or clone troopers. It applies to everyone—including stormtroopers that feel lost in the galaxy, unsure of where to go.”

Finn bit his lip. No more tears.

“We’re here because you need us,” Wolffe drawled. Finn opened his eyes and found the commander. “Even if you are one stubborn verd’ika, that’s not going to push us away.”

Finn went to speak but a loud bang had him flinching. A hiss of a pipe flooded through his hands blocking his ears.

Kom’rk dropped his chin onto his head. “Shhhhh.”

Finn couldn’t help but see that village flashing in front of his eyes. The screaming, the gunfire. He shook his head to clear the visions.

“Quick!” Rey shouted from near the cockpit. “Help me with this!”

The clones disappeared from view, but he could still feel them around. He rushed to her, seeing a cloud of smoke or steam rising in the air. “What’s wrong?”

Together they heaved the grate away, and Rey dropped down into the deck.

Finn stared around and found a tool kit, tossing it to the ground with a bang. The ship started going haywire with beeps and alarms.

“It’s the motivator.” Rey popped her head back up as Finn went on her knees. “Grab me a Harris wrench.”

Finn started shuffling through the tools. “How bad?” 

“If we wanna live, not good.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. “We need to get out of this system soon or they’ll find us.” They could drift for another hour at most before they put themselves in further danger. The First Order obviously wanted the map very much and wouldn’t stop until they had it.

Instead of agreeing with him, Rey said, “BB-8 said the location of your base is ‘need to know’.”

Finn froze. Fucking fuck .

“If I’m taking you there, I need to know,” she pleaded.

Finn tossed her the wrench in hopes of distracting her. “Here.”

He felt the stare from the droid and knew he’d been caught and that little mech would rat him out in a minute if he wanted to. He gestured for BB-8 to roll closer. “You gotta tell us where your base is.”

He gave a series of beeps.

“I don’t speak that,” Finn whispered. “Look, you know I’m not Resistance. We both know that. I’m just trying to get away from the First Order.” He gave him a pleading glance. BB-8 stayed quiet as did the clones. Once again a choice he had to make. “If you tell us where, I promise I will get you there.” BB-8 bobbed his head to the side, but Finn just followed. “ Gedet’ye, ” he slipped into Mando’a.

“Pilex driver, hurry.”

Finn started looking once again.

Rey didn’t back down from her question. “So where’s your base?”

“Go on, BB-8, tell her.”

A stare match started between the three of them. He could feel Rey’s suspicion rising along with anger.

Then finally BB-8 chirped at her.

Rey’s jaw dropped. “The Ileenium system?”

“Yes, the Ileenium system,” Finn insisted loudly, tossing her the tool. “Just get us there as fast as you can.”

BB-8 rolled gently into his foot, and Finn patted his head.

“I’ll drop you two at Ponemath Terminal,” Rey offered as she ducked her head back under. “Bonding tape, hurry.”

Now that one he had no clue. But he had other worries. “What about you?”

Rey almost scoffed, furrowing her brows. “I’ve got to get back to Jakku.”

A rush of anger and frustration washed over him. “Back to Jak—” He heard snickering from the depths of the ship. He put his middle finger behind his back. His other hand grasped a roll of metal. “Why does everyone wanna go back to Jakku?”

“It’s not that one.”

“That place is…” he trailed off, moving his hand along to find the damn tape.

“No. No. ”

Finn lifted up more for her to inspect.

“The one I’m pointing to,” she deadpanned. “No. No! If we don’t patch this up, the propulsion tank will overflow—”

“And fill this place with poisonous gas!” he yelled. “I know how bad it is!” One thing he was thankful for of the First Order was the mechanical training.

BB-8 rolled into a reel of yellow tape. Finn picked it up. “This?”

Rey sighed. “Yes.”

He tossed it to her. But she wasn’t off the hook.

“Rey, you’re a pilot.” He crawled over to the hatch, looking down as she worked. “You can fly anywhere. Why go back?”

Rey went stiff as he spoke. He’d crossed a line. She glared up at him. “None of your business, that’s why.” So much anger was in her voice and passive aggressiveness.

Then the power suddenly shut down, the red emergency lights glaring down on them. 

“That can’t be good,” he said, looking around.

“No, it can’t be.” Rey lifted herself out of the hatch and ran to the cockpit with him following after her.

They both started flipping switches, but nothing came back to life.

“Did someone lock onto us?” he asked, praying for a specific answer.

Rey nodded. “All controls are overridden.”

A clang came from overhead. Finn climbed in his chair, looking through the viewport.

“See anything?”

More red light poured in. He watched as their ship was gravitated into a large hangar bay of a very large ship.

He dropped back into his seat, staring at the controls. “It’s the First Order.”

Rey started panicking as well, her chest heaving with panicked breaths. “What do we do? There has to be something.”

The clones weren’t going to help them. Then it clicked in his head. “Poisonous gas,” he said, turning to Rey.

She sighed. “I fixed that.”

“So we unfix it.”

They both thought it over before rushing back out. They reached for the oxygen masks and tossed them into the hatch. Finn jumped in first. The lights flicked back on as Finn assisted in getting BB-8 down. “Damn.”

Rey yanked the grate back over them, starting to fiddle with the patch job. “Do you think this will work on the stormtroopers?”

Finn nodded, getting closer. “Their masks filter out smoke, not toxins.” Or the smell of burning flesh. He lifted the hatch to peek out as metal groaned and grinded together. “Hurry,” he hissed out before dropping back down.

They slipped the masks on before she could undo the patch, feeding the oxygen through the tube.

Finn didn't even want to breathe as he heard footsteps above them. A few whispers that weren’t clones flooded through.

Arms wrapped around his body, someone hugging him from behind. And it wasn’t Rey.

“It’s not First Order, kih’vod,” Rex said to him before releasing him and disappearing. Just before Finn could sign anything or reach for the captain, the hatched was lifted and blasters were pointed at them.

An older man stared down at them. “Where’s the others? Where’s the pilot?”

Rey answered immediately. “I’m the pilot.”

The giant creature with fur growled.

“No, it’s true. We’re the only ones on board.”

Finn stared at her. “You can understand that thing?”

The human man scoffed. “And ‘that thing’ can understand you too, so watch it.” The man gestured for them to come out. “Get out of there.”

The thing growled again. They ripped the masks off and muscled themselves out of the hatch. Finn kept his distance.

“Where’d you get this thing?”

“Nima Outpost,” Rey fired off.

The man’s brows rose in surprise. “Jakku? That junkyard?”

Finn nudged Rey. “ Thank you.”

The man turned to his furry friend. “Told you we should have double-checked the Western Reaches.” The thing growled, showing his disapproval. “Who had it? Ducain?”

“We stole it. From Unkar Plutt. He stole it from the Irving Boys, who stole it from Ducain.” Rey finished while Finn looked around for any more threats.

“Who stole it from me! Well, you tell him that Han Solo just stole back the millennium falcon.” He turned and walked toward the cockpit.

Finn’s heart stuttered. “This is the millennium falcon ?” He remembered learning about the Rebel Alliance and how Han Solo had been a big pain in the ass for the Empire, along with Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa of Alderan.

Rey smiled. “You’re Han Solo?”

Solo paused in the hallway, taking a breath to think. “I used to be.”

“Han Solo, the Rebellion General?” He asked her for confirmation.

She frowned and shook her head. “No, the smuggler.” 

Finn turned to the…thing. “Wasn’t he a war hero?” The creature just grunted, giving a bit of chatter that he couldn’t understand.

“You’re right, he was,” Sinker confirmed. “Good catch, verd’ika.”

She glanced back at the man. “This is the ship that made the Kessel Run in 14 parsecs?”

“Twelve!” Solo shouted from the cockpit. “Fucking fourteen,” he mumbled after.

Finn looked to Rey. “What do we do now?”

Rey just had this bright smile on her face. “What do you mean ? We’re with Han Solo.”

“Hey!” Footsteps came back their way. Solo seemed tired and frustrated by whatever he saw in the cockpit. “Some moof-milker put a compressor on the ignition line.”

Finn wasn’t a pilot but that didn’t sound good. “Unkar Plutt did, I’m assuming?” he asked.

Rey nodded, but only had eyes for the general. “I thought it was a mistake as well. Puts too much…”

“Stress on the hyperdrive,” they both finished, staring at each other.

Solo’s eyes traveled to him as well. Finn felt exposed, like he could find every ounce of bad in him from the First Order.

“Chewie, throw them in a pod. We’ll drop them at the nearest inhabited planet.”

Honestly, Finn didn’t care. He just wanted to get a head start on the First Order. He was fine with the arrangement, and he could possibly even ask for a weapon. But Rey had other ideas.

“Wait, no!” They followed after the man with Chewie following behind like a big shadow. “We need your help.”

Solo paused, scoffing. “My help?” He seemed like the type that someone had to twist his arm to get him to help. Finn just wanted to leave before the rebel general figured out he was a stormtrooper.

“This droid has to get to a Resistance base as soon as possible.”

The man wasn’t going to budge, not with that argument. But Rey obviously didn’t know the history of the war. Finn could’ve just let her fight her own battle, but a bright smile came to his mind. Poe. He was prepared to just keep his mouth shut, to just fly under the radar…but he owed it to Poe.

Finn sighed, steadying his nerves. “He’s carrying a map to Luke Skywalker.”

Chewie made a soft rumble that sounded like remembrance.

Han slowed his steps at the sound of the name.

Finn had him where he wanted. “You are the Han Solo that fought with the Rebellion.” Han turned to him, so many things flashing around him. Anger, happiness, loss, worry. “You knew him,” he finished softly.

A sad smile pulled at the man. “Yeah, I knew him,” he whispered. “I knew Luke.” That singular name held so much weight. 

A thud came from above them, and Finn closed his eyes with a sigh. “ Damn .”

Solo sighed. “Don’t tell me a Rathtar’s gotten loose.” He charged past them.

Finn froze, but his feet carried him. “Wait, what?” They ran after him. He remembered a quick module from when he was a child about the dangerous creatures of the galaxy that no one should piss off. Rathtars were very high on that list. “You’re not hauling Rathtars on this freighter, are you?”

They saw BB-8 free himself from the hatch which he honestly found impressive.

They exited the Falcon , rushing toward security cams.

Solo just nodded. “I’m hauling Rathtars.” He pressed a few commands to show a ship docking onto the freighter. “Oh, great. It’s the Guavian Death Gang.”

Chewie grumbled, following after Solo.

“What’s a Rathtar?” Rey asked as they briskly followed the two.

“They’re big and they’re dangerous,” the general responded.

Finn scoffed. “That’s a severe understatement.” He looked at his friend. “Ever heard of the Trillia Massacre?” She shook her head, a look of terror crossing over her. “Good.”

Solo had a dangerous smirk that reminded Finn of the daredevils of the GAR that he had come to know. Lovely. “I’ve got three heading to King Prana.”

Finn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Three? How’d you get them on board?”

The general sighed. “I used to have a bigger crew, now it’s just me and Chewie.” He suddenly stopped and Chewie brushed past to open one of the hatches on the floor, the hydraulics hissing. “Get down there and don’t come up.” he pointed a finger at Rey. “And don’t even think about taking the Falcon.”

Rey couldn’t let it go. “What about BB-8?”

“He stays with me until I get rid of the gang then you can have him back and be on your way.”

Nothing was ever that easy. And they had other things to worry about. “What about the Rathtars? Where are you keeping them?” He didn't want to be eaten alive.

Something slammed into the wall behind them, making both of them yelp. Finn spun around and saw a large poking poking out. Solo just pointed. “There’s one.”

Finn sat on the ground. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

The general shrugged. “Same thing I always do. Talk my way out of it.”

Finn groaned. Too many similarities.

Chewie also gave a groan.

“Yes, I do. Everytime .”

Rey and Finn sat on the ground, waiting for something to go wrong. A man started talking to Solo, talking about how they were owed money for the job.

“Can you see them?” Rey whispered.

“No,” he said and started crawling closer, wanting to hear.

“Finn,” Bly grumbled in warning in his ear. He ignored the warning.

As they got closer they could hear the conversation. Solo definitely could talk his way through most of the points, but of course he had to piss off multiple gangs and owe lots of money. He hoped other rebellion generals weren’t so reckless.

They finally got to the point where they were right underneath.

“They have blasters.”

“A lot of them,” he agreed. He saw bright red masks on the gang members face, no doubt a vow of secrecy like the Knights of Ren.

“I never made a deal with Kanjikulb,” Solo insisted with the man.

He had a smirk. “Tell that to Kanijiklub.”

Finn banged his head lightly on the wall as another blast door opened and a man started speaking in a different language. Too many threats in one place.

They started crawling back the other way.

“That BB unit. The First Order is looking for one just like it.”

Finn felt a sound of fear crawl up into his throat.

“And two fugitives.”

He and Rey paused in their tracks. They stared at each other. And quickly started to crawl away as Solo tried to take their way out, but blaster fire rang out.

But something caught Rey’s eyes. He brushed shoulders with her as she made a sharp turn.

“If we close the blast doors in that corridor, we can trap both gangs.”

“From here?” he questioned.

She nodded, looking over the control panel in front of her. “Resetting the fuses should do it.” He pressed her fist on all of them.

But roaring sounded in the background, echoing through the halls.

Finn wanted to just crawl into a hole.

“Wrong fuses,” they realized at the same time.

The gangs started screaming.

“Finn, fucking run,” Monnk ordered him.

“Gladly,” he whispered.

The Rathtars had been released, their screams and groans traveling through the hallways.

“This was a mistake!” He shouted as they crawled as fast as they could.

“Huge!”

Finn and Rey popped out of the hatch, finally able to put some distance between them. They rushed through the halls, everything looking the same to him. He just wanted to find a place where they couldn’t be bombarded by those monsters and the gangs.

“What do they look like?!”

Finn turned a corner and winced. In front of them, a Rathtar was busy devouring its next meal, the man screaming as the tentacles wrapped around his body. “They look like that.” He grabbed her arm as she let out a soft scream.

He led them down a hall when something felt seriously wrong. He shoved Rey forward just as a slimy tentacle wrapped around his ankle. He hit the ground with a groan, and then he started getting dragged back.

He couldn’t grab onto any of the grates, fingernails chipping with the force behind the creature dragging him.

“Finn!” Rey shouted in horror.

“Osik!” he cussed as Rey rushed after him.

The hallways rushed by at a dizzying pace, making him want to throw up. He tried hitting the tentacles around him but nothing would budge. His head slammed into the wall, making him whimper in pain.

“Finn!” he heard Rey’s voice echo around, but he couldn’t tell from where.

“Rey!” he called back weakly.

He saw a blaster door approaching him. Maybe if he could just reach for the panel…

Finn stretched a hand out, fingertips straining. He missed by just a few inches.

“Fuck!” he yelled, hand forming a fist.

Suddenly he hit the ground with a large thud, the Rathtar screaming in pain. Sitting up, he saw the next blaster door had closed on the monster, severing its body. He gagged as moved the limp tentacles from him.

“Gross,” he groaned. “Get off.”

He just stared at the door as he stood up…who had closed the door?

“Finn!”

He jumped when a hand touched his back. Rey’s worried face came into his view, sweat beading on her brow. “Are you okay?”

“The door…” he muttered.

Rey grasped his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She had to drag him away.

Blaster shots rang out from nearby. They ran back into the hangar, and Finn had never been so happy to see a Rebellion general before.

Solo was supporting Chewie, face twisting into relief as they approached. “You, close the door behind us. You, take care of Chewie!” He gave out orders easily.

Finn ducked under Chewie’s arm, getting him onto the ship. He led the creature to the small medbay, having him lay back.

“Coric,” he whispered from the corner of his mouth. Now he was lost as he looked at the medical supplies. He picked up multiple things that felt foreign in his hands.

“Bacta spray,” the medic replied.

Finn grabbed the can, giving it a shake. He nervously approached, and Chewie gave a sharp growl of pain.

He heard Rey and Solo going back and forth about lightspeed. And he prayed he didn’t hear ‘from inside of the ship’ or he was going to lose his mind.

“Hold on back there!”

Finn sighed, still avoiding Chewie’s flailing limbs. “Chewie, this is going to help you,” he kept his voice soft and light, the same way the clones spoke to him. “But you have to let me get close.”

The thing roared in his face.

Wolffe gave a cackle. “Gods, Wookie’s are so stubborn.”

Finn ignored his clones behind him. “Chewie, you’re shot. I’m trying to help you, but you have to let me.”

Chewie just roared in his face, strong arms pushing him away. Finn felt his body slam into the wall, making pain shoot up his body from all the damage he had put himself through.

Those worried murmurs started up again.

Chewie gave a few grumbles and chirps that would’ve been cute if Finn wasn’t so frustrated with him. 

Finn gave a tight sigh. “Look, see?” He showed him his hands. “It’s just bacta. I know you don’t want to, but Solo asked me to take care of you.”

The Wookie finally stopped yelling, looking at him with his dark eyes.

Finn didn’t even want to breathe wrong. He knew how it felt to be poked and prodded by strangers with adrenaline coursing through him. The thought of the medical wing still made him shiver. “Chewie, I just want to help you. The sooner you let me, the sooner we can be done.”

The Wookie ducked his head, almost in apology. He gave a small nod.

Finn sighed then the ship lurched. He glared toward the cockpit. “What’s going on?!”

“Electrical overload!” Solo shouted back. “And the coolant is leaking! Nothing to worry about here.”

Chewie growled.

Finn shook his head, beginning to spray the bacta on the bullet wound. He had a bit of trouble with the amount of fur but he was trying to make it work. Then he had a thought that he had seen Hux order one of the transport ships after taking a hit. “Did you try transferring—”

“Axillary power?” Rey questioned.

“Yes!” Finn yelled back to her, pulling away from the Wookie. He nonchalantly found Coric in his vision. The clone tapped on the small compartments right near the bunk, making a small rattle. Guess they weren't kidding about being able to move some things.

He reached for a roll of bandages, showing the creature what he held. He waited until Chewie gave him a little nod and warble.

Finn wrapped it around his bicep, making sure there was enough pressure for comfort and to soak up any blood. The alarms were still going off.

But then BB-8 rolled over and Chewie growled at the droid.

Finn gestured for the droid to roll away and gave a disapproving look to the Wookie. “Chewie!”

Solo shouted back. “If you hurt Chewie, you’re going to deal with me!”

Finn scoffed but continued with his soft movements. “Hurt me? He has two feet on me at least. And I’m not hurting him.” Actually trying to do the opposite. He knew how it felt to be hurt and not have someone close to you helping. Finn shouldn’t have been the one to do this, but he wasn’t going to leave the Wookie alone.

He stepped away from Chewie once the bandage was secured, nervously biting his lip as he watched Chewie test his arm out.

Coric patted his shoulder. “You did good, bud.” Finn just looked at him, not worried about Chewie seeing. The medic’s proud smile slipped. “You know that, right?”

He’d never been told that before. At least never when it came to helping someone. Only killing.

Finally the hyperdrive regulated, the headache finally going away now that the alarms had stopped.

“Move, ball,” Solo grumbled out as BB-8 got into his path.

Finn took a breath before walking further into the common area, taking a heavy seat. He watched as Solo went to get on his friend, saying a few soft words to him.

“Good job, kid.”

Finn blinked. It hadn’t come from a clone. He tipped his head and saw Han with his hands resting on his hips, giving a tired sigh.

“Thank you,” the man mumbled.

Finn gave a soft smile. “You’re welcome.” He felt someone slip next to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He tried not to show anything on his face as he examined any bit he could see.

104th gray and a smaller stature but still muscular. Comet. He let his tense shoulders relax, the feeling so different now that he didn’t have hard plastoid digging into him.

“Sooo,” Han said as Rey’s soft footsteps came up behind him. Finn pushed his exhaustion away. “Futigatives, huh?”

Finn straightened up. “The First Order wants the map,” he explained, looking down to BB-8 at his feet.

“Finn is with the Resistance. I’m just a scavenger.”

Finn and Solo locked eyes. And he felt a cold sweat break across his skin as the man just raised his brows a bit. He was suspicious. Shit.

Thankfully Solo didn't call him out on it. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

BB-8 perked up, rolling excitedly into the middle of the floor. His systems whirled as he powered up the map, a hologram projection lighting up the entire room. It reminded Finn of a puzzle piece, just a small bit of the galaxy. The hologram zoomed in and stars lit up the room.

Finn’s breath caught. He’d never seen so many in his life even if it was just an image. Comet squeezed his waist.

So many systems. So many planets.

“The map’s incomplete.” Solo sounded almost disappointed. “It’s just a piece.”

Rey and Finn shared a look, both taken aback by what they saw.

He’d never known the galaxy was so big.

“Ever since Luke disappeared, people have been looking for him.” The general walked the floor, meandering through the cosmos.”

“Why’d he leave?” Rey asked curiously.

Finn averted his eyes as the clones appeared, showing their curiosity as well. The general had everyone’s full attention.

“Luke is one of the last Jedi around. His mentor died on the first death star after battling Vader, and he felt alone. So he was training a new generation of Jedi. Something about the legacy of the Jedi needing to be restored, but he wanted to do it better than the Republic.”

Finn cocked his head to the side. The way the clones spoke of their Jedi, they couldn’t make a mistake. Perfect. He listened carefully while standing up. It’s not that he didn’t doubt his new protectors, but he just wanted the whole picture.

“But one boy, an apprentice turned against him, destroyed it all.” Solo sighed heavily, continuing to walk. “Luke felt responsible. He just…walked away from everything.”

Finn felt a pit appear in his stomach as he saw the clones’ faces fall, bowing their heads down. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“A lot of rumors. Stories.” Solo studied the stars with precision. “People who knew him best…think he went looking for the first Jedi Temple.”

Those words sent a thrill through Finn’s body. He didn’t know why.

“Shit,” Bacara murmured appreciatively.

Rey stood up from her seat, a smile on her face. “The Jedi were real?”

Solo propped his leg up on a crate, giving a slight chuckle. “I used to wonder about that myself. Thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. Propaganda. Or just an excuse for why everything went to shit. Before Luke blew up the death star, people were beginning to question the entire purpose of the Jedi in the past generations.”

Chewie warbled in agreement.

Solo gave another soft scoff. “A magical power holding together good and evil…”

Finn absorbed every word he said.

“The dark side and the light…”

Finn felt a thousand eyes land on him.

“The crazy thing is…” Solo turned to him, a certain look on his face. “It’s true.”

Finn stepped forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with Rey.

He looked between the two of them. “The Force. The Jedi. All of it…it’s all true.”

Finn wondered what it was like during the time of the Republic. How it felt to stand side by side with them. The way Solo spoke about it, he made it seem like they were sent down from the heavens. He wasn’t a man to show such honor, Finn knew that much, but for his friend he did. No wonder Snoke wanted the Jedi gone—they showed a spark of hope.

An alarm at the terminal broke the moment, BB-8 shut the projection down as Solo crossed to the machine.

“You want my help? You’re getting it.” He tapped a few buttons before giving them a smile. “Gonna see an old friend. She’ll get your droid home.”

'Your'. Finn stiffened. The man knew he wasn’t Resistance. But for some reason, he didn't question him. That still didn’t give him a vote of confidence.

Chapter Text

“I suggest you get some shut-eye before we’re there.” Han waved a hand over the two of them as the soft hum of the hyperdrive filled the air. “You look like you need it. Bunks are this way. Or feel free to sleep on the floor. Whatever floats your boat.”

Finn and Rey sat down at the table, a tired silence filling the air. Then they flinched when Chewie dropped some rations on the table, the shining foil reflecting in the light. He warbled at them until they each picked up one. The Wookie gave a chirp of approval before following Han.

Finn hid a smile to himself. It was strange to have a creature so gruff and tall act so motherly toward them.

Rey wrinkled her nose at the ration in her hand, treating it like a grenade. “What…is it?”

He had already torn into his, taking a bite. It tasted a lot better when you were on the verge of starving. He showed her. “Just rip it open.”

She did so, hesitantly, giving a sniff.

“It’s like Numa all over again,” Boil snorted. Finn didn’t quite understand the reference.

Rey took a small bite. After chewing, she said, “It’s not…terrible.”

Finn smiled. “It gets the job done.”

“I’m used to portions on Jakku. I scavenged to trade with Unkar for them,” she said with a soft chuckle.

“Those can’t taste good,” Finn sympathized. “Is that why you got interested in flying, scavenging?”

Rey nodded, glancing around the ship.

“Verd’ika, ask her what happened to Jakku,” Cody whispered in his ear. As his brothers groaned around him, he added, “I’m just curious.”

Finn sighed, listening to the commander. “So what happened to Jakku? It’s so close to Coruscant, I figured it'd be more…”

Rey snorted. “Prosperous?” She took another bite. “Some war happened and caused a lot of damage. I’ve been scavenging the star destroyers for weeks on end or years. The Imperial class paid more money.”

Finn nodded slowly. “No Republic ships?”

Rey paused. “I’m not sure. Maybe? I’m not familiar with them, especially since all of them sort of blur together. But what’s it like, being with the Resistance?”

Finn paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t sound ridiculous. “Less lonely than where I was before,” he said honestly. If the Resistance was anything like his hour with Poe, it would’ve been amazing. “A lot of chaos,” he said softly.

“Where’s your family?” Rey asked him, playing with the wrapper.

His words died off. “I don’t know,” he admitted. The First Order never let them know about their families, only they had made a sacrifice for the good of the First Order. His stomach twisted as he thought about how many lies he’d been told and if that was a lie as well.

“Why does the First Order want Luke Skywalker?” she quickly moved past the subject before he could ask the same question.

Finn tapped a finger on the table. That one he could kind of answer. “Supreme Leader Snoke wants to erratic all Force users that won’t pledge themselves to the First Order…and anyone who stands in their way.”

He heard a few wounded sounds from the clones. Finn stared down at the table. Guess they didn’t know that detail.

Rey stopped eating at that, studying the table. She messed with the wrapper in her fingers. Her green eyes danced around a bit.

Finn sighed, stretching the back of his head. “You should probably get some sleep.”

The girl nodded, mindlessly getting up from her seat to walk away then paused. “What about you?”

He gave her a weak smile. “I’ll come in a minute.” Maybe . He gave a shooing motion to get her to continue walking, pulling a kind grin from her.

As soon as she left the room, Finn let his head down to rest on the table. “Fuck.”

Everything came washing down over him. Things spun inside of his mind and he wasn’t sure what was real or wasn’t. Then one thing came crashing down.

He shot back up, throat going tight. “You said chips,” he said to the empty room. It hadn’t truly clicked when he had been pumped up on adrenaline, just taking the information and storing it for later.

The clones re-appeared, faces lowered to the ground or looking at a wall with a thousand yard stare. No one said anything.

He turned to the 212th commander once he managed to pick him out in the room. “You. Said. Chips.”

Cody dragged a hand down his face. Wooley dropped his head onto his commander’s shoulder, tears shining in his eyes. “I did,” the man rasped.

“So…what?” he continued hysterically. “They just shoved it inside your heads?”

“We don’t have all the answers,” Rex whispered to him, hand tightly clasped in Fives as they sat on the floor. “But a Jedi commissioned our creation on Kamino. Dooku hijacked it and took control at some point.”

Finn held his head in his hands, peering at the clones. “Who?” he asked softly, trying to remember.

Muzzle cocked his head with narrowed eyes. “How much do you know about the Republic?”

Finn started to open his mouth then paused. He had a feeling what he was about to say was going to piss them off.

“Kih’vod, what do you know?” Seventeen pushed, voice holding no room for argument.

Finn groaned. His head was starting to hurt. Again. “That…” He closed his eyes, trying to think. “The Separatists and Republic were at war. Something happened and the Jedi abandoned the galaxy and the Empire rose to fix the damage they had caused.”

Cody banged his head against the wall. Wolffe loudly cussed in Mando’a which Finn could understand pieces of. Bacara gritted his teeth so hard Finn thought he’d break a tooth…if ghosts could break teeth.

Finn ducked his head.

“No, Finn,” someone whispered in his ear, hugging him from behind once again. “It’s not your fault. You just don’t know.”

Finn could hear the slight difference in the voice, a thicker accent, leading him to guess one of the Nulls had joined him on the seat.

“The Separatists were taking over planetary control across the galaxy,” Ponds explained softly. “The Republic commanded that the Jedi become generals for the GAR once war broke out.”

Finn frowned, feeling the arms tightened around his waist. “I thought they were always generals.”

Comet shook his head. “No, they weren’t.” His voice trembled and threatened to break as he spoke. “They were never meant to be generals. They were peacekeepers. Stayed at their Temple on Coruscant until they felt they were needed.”

Peacekeepers. “And what happened to them?” he whispered.

Tup just phased away, leaving an empty space on the floor. Most of the clones sighed as he did so, pity falling across their faces. Comet looked half a second away from following him wherever he disappeared to.

“The Sith killed them all. Or captured them and broke them until they became their inquisitors.” Jet’s voice was empty.

Finn couldn’t help but think about what the clones had said about the Jedi younglings and how they were in their battalions. There had to be children in their temple. “And their Littles?”

Appo bit his lip harshly.

Doom answered. “Vader and his troopers slaughtered them all.” 

The sound of that name sent a painful spark through his head. He gave a soft sound of pain. Hands came up to his shoulders and nape. Another hand rested on his head, thumb trailing over his temple. He couldn’t determine who they belonged to but he welcomed it.

He pulled his eyes open after closing them for a moment. “What did the chips make you do?”

Choked off sounds came from many of the clones. Sounds of panic .

Gregor lifted his bowed head, resting it back on Wolffe’s chest. “Things that most of them wanted to eat a blaster for.”

Them . Not all the clones were affected.

Finn shook his head, visions of the clones dropping dead from blaster shots to the head. “Stop.” He knew they had more to tell him but this was too much for his psyche. “Stop, please.”

“Okay,” Ordo whispered from behind. “Okay, we’re done for today. You need sleep.”

Finn shook his head, the hands falling away from him. “No,” he whispered. He knew he sounded like a toddler, but that was not happening. Too many things would happen inside his head.

Rex gave him a sharp look. “Finn.”

“I’ll sleep—”

“Right now,” Spar snapped at him. “We can't promise safety where Solo is taking you. You might not be able to sleep for days.”

Finn sent him a pleading look.

“No,” Jesse said. “Close your eyes. Fighting while sleep deprived will get you killed.” His words seemed practical. Like he had said it or heard it multiple times.

Hands slowly lowered his body sideways towards the bench. His head rested on a muscular thigh and fingers worked their way through his hair.

The clones softly talked him into a state of sleepiness. He managed to fall asleep for a few hours before he jerked awake when screaming appeared in his dreams and that sharp pain returned to his spine.

Arms held him tight as he tried to shift away.

“Easy,” Prudii whispered. “We’re here.”

He wasn’t alone.

He had people that cared.

He wasn’t with the First Order.

The last thing he wanted to do was fall asleep again, but he’d rather do that than face the wrath of the clones. He tried to switch into a comfortable position but nothing worked.

Prudii gave a frustrated sigh. “ Kih’vod , me’bana?”

Finn groaned himself. “Can’t sleep.” He pressed his palms into his eyes. This was so frustrating.

Keeli gave him an out. “Want to talk some more?”

Finn wasn’t sure what was worse. The nightmares or the nightmare-fuel. However, he couldn’t deny how curious he was.

“You talk,” Jet instructed kindly. “We’ve done enough yapping.”

“Who’s Dogma?” he asked first. The poor teen had a shadow over him even in death. Something so tired and heavy weighing him down. He wanted to just hold him tight but he couldn't even do that to the clones he was close with.

The clones in the 501st all choked, eyes darting to their captain. They hadn’t expected their squadmate’s name to slip past.

Rex just sighed. “He was in our battalion before.”

Finn recalled the teenager in the halls, the scared, distant eyes. Something terrible had happened to him. “Before what?” he dared to ask.

Wolffe sent a glare in Jet’s direction. “Had to let him ask?”

Tup, who had made another appearance, had other concerns. He peered around Hawk, the man having wrapped an arm around the teenager. “You saw him?” His voice cut over all discussions in the room. 

Rex locked eyes with his trooper, his son, and nodded slowly. Finn saw the hesitation in the captain.

Tup’s eyes widened, almost in betrayal. He slouched into Hawk’s hold.

“Who’s Dogma?” Finn whispered.

Echo cleared his throat where he sat side-by-side with Hunter. Finn noted how he tended to gravitate to the Batch if not with the 501st. “Tup’s last batchmate. He was decommed.”

Finn brought his knees up to his chest. Decommissioned. Damn. “What did he do?”

The 501st went quiet along with the 212th. Shadows crossed over their faces, shivers going down their spines.

Seventeen raised his brows. “I’m curious as well,” his voice had something dangerous in it.

Mereel hummed. “I am too.”

Wolffe glared at Seventeen as he spoke. “Umbara was a shit-show. It traumatized them.”

Finn didn’t like it when they fought, it made him shrink in on himself. He prepared to just cover his ears and wait for it to end.

“So did Teth and it took me two years to find out what happened.” The Alpha argued.

Fives finally snapped, not looking at Finn. “Fine. Anakin was pulled away by the Chancellor in the middle of the campaign. We got stuck with fucking Krell. He fucked with us, mainly Rex, before Dogma shot him for treason.”

Finn’s head spun. “Woah.” He closed his eyes. “Treason?”

Echo slapped his twin on the back of the head. Fives growled at him. “Maybe next time, have some more class when you explain it.”

Jesse and Appo both jabbed the dominoes in the side before they could start bickering even more.

Waxer gave Finn a warm smile that fell flat. “You’re confused.”

“Very,” he confirmed.

Wolffe took control over the situation. “The 501st and 212th were deployed to Umbara about a year or two into the clone wars. It’s called the shadow planet for a reason.”

Finn shivered at the thought. The limited visual, things lurking in the forest.

“Do you know who Anakin Skywalker is?”

Finn thought it over, eyes roaming around. “I’ve heard whispers about him. Is he related to Luke?”

Rex slowly nodded. “We have our assumptions.”

Fives tried to hide a laugh as he looked at the captain. “You’re the one that hid their relationship.”

Wolffe interrupted with a well-put glare. “Must we distract him?” He turned to Finn. “Yes, they are related. Anyway, Skywalker was called away from his command of the 501st. Pong Krell, another Jedi general, was called to replace him for the mission.”

Finn picked up obvious traces of irritation. “You don’t like him,” he whispered. “And his clones aren’t around.” He had begun to learn more of the Jedi but Krell had never come up because no one in his battalion showed themselves to Finn.

“They’re not, verd’ika, and they probably won’t ever.” Truss explained to him, standing with his back against the wall with one of his troopers leaning back against his legs.

“Krell fell to the dark side at some point during the war,” Cody spat out, eyes ablaze. “And he turned us against each other just because he could.”

Hardcase scratched at the paint of his armor, doing no damage. “He sent orders out the 501st that an enemy squad had stolen clone armor. So we went to handle the threat…but Krell had relayed the same information to Kenobi and the 212th.”

Waxer had a weak smile. “I was the lucky bastard that was the platoon leader. I ordered my men to open fire. Rex did the same.”

Finn pressed a hand against his mouth, eyes going wide. He let out a wounded sound.

“Krell knew it was bullshit,” Fives spat, eyes going dark. “He just wanted to punish us for no damn reason. We lost fifty men between the battalions.”

Finn dropped his head back to his knees for a moment. When he looked back up, Boil was latched onto his brother, face stormy.

“Rex led a mutiny,” Wolffe said, only staring at Seventeen in indignation for his trainer. “They saved themselves. Once Krell was captured, a few troopers went to question him. Dogma shot him, and he was arrested for it.”

Finn gave a groan. “Why didn’t your other Jedi do anything?”

A hand smoothed down his side like he was a hissy loth cat. And he didn’t mind the touch like he used to.

“The Jedi did their very best to keep us safe from reconditioning and decom,” Monnk said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “But our admirals from the GAR can be cruel. And they insisted Dogma be taken to Kamino.”

“They cared,” Finn whispered like it was a question. “About all of you.”

Wolffe swallowed harshly, hands clenching together.

Bly exhaled softly. “They did. Treated us like humans while the rest of the galaxy saw us as machines like the Seppies. Gave us lives to look forward to after the war.”

Finn had so much information bouncing around his head, trying to decipher what the First Order had lied about. That small bit of him still wondered if he could trust them.

“Okay, now you really need to sleep,” one the Wolfpack medics decided, giving him a sharp look.

Finn started walking back toward the spare bunks, collapsing into the closest one. He watched as A’den was the only one that followed him.

Rey was curled up on the bunk, breathing steady and deep with sleep.

Finn just watched as A’den phased through the bunk before sitting between Finn and the wall. It made him near flinch as such an odd movement but the Null was used to it.

A’den reached a hand out, running it over Finn’s coiled hair. He sighed at the cool touch, feeling it sink into his skin.

“Jango was my father for a long time,” the Null whispered. This was a conversation for just them, and he had Finn’s full attention in the dark room. A’den sighed. “Or at least one of the closest thing I’ve ever achieved. At first, he didn’t know how to be gentle with us—a hardened soldier trying to train six emotionally-stunted boys. But he learned and we learned as well.”

Finn could hear sadness in his voice. “ What happened?” he signed to the man.

A’den continued his soft touches, a soft smile coming to him. “Eventually, our training was overturned to Kal Skirata when the Alphas came along. More trainers came to Kamino, but Kal never abandoned us.”

 “And Jango?”

“He always did his best to split his time with us and the other clones. But in order to keep the kaminesse away, Jango couldn’t show the same gentleness as more generations came out. We drifted when Kal adopted me and my other vode. My brothers.”

Finn stiffened, sitting up in the bunk. A’den pulled his hand away, eyes just following him carefully. “ Vode.” He fingered spelled it based on how it sounded.

A’den showed him a new sign, and Finn repeated it. “That’s vode. It means brothers.”

Finn wanted to cry. “ You call each other that.” He slowly signed. “You’ve called me that.”

The Null took a slow breath, uncharacteristically vulnerable as his eyes gleamed with tears. Finn didn’t know ghosts could cry. “We call you kih’vod. Little brother.”

Finn just let him shift a hand to his nape, and A’den slowly brought Finn forward to rest their heads together. He’d seen the clones give the same gesture to each other in quiet moments, so he knew there was some significance. Finn closed his eyes.

“Jango Fett was not a perfect man,” the Null whispered. “And we are not his perfect creations. But we have his Mandalorian values. While you don’t see it from our point of view, we’re sorry that you lost Twelve. We’re protective of those we consider aliit, and you are one of them, kih’vod.”

Finn just moved his head to A’den shoulder, letting the man assist him so he didn’t face plant into the wall. A’den slid them onto the bunk as Finn’s eyes fell closed.

Finn finally slipped into sleep as the Null’s baritone voice murmured a Mando’a song to him.

…

“How come A’den gets to cuddle with the ad’ika?” Doom teased the Nulls, a sharp grin in place.

Jaing glared at him. “Don’t even start with us. Let A’den mother him or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

The commanders and the Nulls started going back and forth with each other, jabs and jeers passing between all of them with practiced ease.

Rex would’ve found it amusing but his mind wandered elsewhere. Seventeen glared at him from across the rooms once he glanced around. “What? Can I not think in peace?” he snapped at the man.

Seventeen raised his brows. “Want to try that again ?” Warning slipped into his tone like he was dealing with the littles, not his grown captain.

The tension returned.

Rex just turned his head away.

Bacara’s eyes went to the door where A’den had led their newest kih’vod. “He’s starting to figure it out.”

Cameron tried to mess with a piece of rubble on the ground, but his fingers just passed through it. “Why can’t we just tell him again?”

Blitz narrowed his eyes. “You think he’d take that well? He needs to figure it out for himself like he would’ve if we hadn’t interfered.”

Tup stared at the ground. “But he wouldn’t have done so with everything else if we hadn’t told him.” He didn’t want to challenge the ARC commander, but he pushed through the nerves. “He wouldn’t have left the First Order if we didn’t tell him to.”

Rex saw the man narrow his eyes even more. He wrapped an arm around his kid and sent a pleading glance to the commander’s way. But Fives openly glared at the man, daring him to say anything.

Neyo gave a grumble in the back of his throat. “We’re going to lose either way. If we tell him, he might not believe us. And if we don’t, he’ll be mad.”

They fell silent until a little face poked around the corner. He ducked away with a gasp once half of the clones immediately clocked his position.

“Ik’aade,” Monnk drawled to the children hiding from them.

More of the Littles peaked around the corner, seeing the slightly disapproving stares of their brothers. They went to their buire, climbing into their laps and cuddling to their chests.

Rex smiled softly as Cody brought little Noah close to his chest, seeing the adoration in his brother’s eyes for the four-year-old in his arms.

Truss glanced down at his son. “What have we told you about sneaking around?” His boy hid away in his neck with a smile. He just hugged him close.

Bacara scooped up the only boy that wasn’t in any of the adults' grasp, poking in the side to make him gasp with a giggle. “Got anything to explain?”

“We were just curious,” he answered softly. He leaned into Bacara’s hands, and the Marine just held him tighter. “And we wanted to see Finn.”

Bacara dropped his lips to his head, ignoring the knowing glances from his brothers. “Finn’s sleeping, love. And so should you.”

They didn’t need sleep, not as ghosts. But in order to help the Littles cope with their situation, they had them ‘sleep’ at night while some of the clones took watch like they normally would. The Littles just went along, never once mentioning how they would just lay with each other for hours. Or maybe they didn’t understand the difference anymore.

The marshal commander saw his squadmates and other commanders making doe eyes at him, mouthing different mushy things. Bacara flipped them off while holding the little boy closer.

Tup smiled as Noah made his way into his arms, wrestling out of Cody’s grip. He laughed softly as the boy ran his fingers over his paint. He’d grown attached to the little boy that Cody had claimed as his son.

Fives rested his chin on Tup’s head, just staring off at the wall. Rex smoothed a hand over his back.

Ordo looked to where his brother was still with Finn. “We don't say anything,” he decided. And he knew they would listen.

…

The sound of the ship dropping out of hyperspace jarred Finn from his peaceful sleep. He blinked heavily, seeing A’den still at his side. The man just gave him a soft smile.

“This is our stop,” Solo announced from near the cockpit.

Finn rolled out of the bunk and followed Rey out of the room.

Chewie warbled at them until they convinced him that they had slept just fine. The Wookie just ruffled their hair before going to the depths of the ship.

Finn settled behind Rey’s seat in the cockpit, watching as the blue and green planet came into view. He’d never seen such a planet before. It took his breath away.

They settled into the atmosphere as Solo fiddled with the controls, a soft smile on his normally stoic face.

“I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy,” Rey whispered in wonder, leaning closer to see out the viewport.

Finn could only watch, not having any words as they brushed through trees and rivers.

A small compound approached as they flew along a river, the tan and dusty stone deep into the sand. Solo lowered them to the ground and Rey ran for the loading ramp.

Finn didn’t even stop her, adopting a small smile as he followed at a much slower pace. BB-8 looked at him, rolling anxiously back and forth. He waved him along. “Go on.” The little droid raced off the Falcon.

Solo went into a compartment, digging through their supplies.

Finn noticed the al’verdese had returned, sticking to the edges of the circular room. Nerves twisted in his stomach as he approached the war hero.

“Hey, Solo, I’m not sure what we’re walking into here,” he opened with. He had no idea what system they were in and if the First Order presence was strong or not. He needed to sift for more information.

The man stiffened, turning around with an incredulous look on his face. “Did you just call me Solo?”

Finn frowned. “You’re a general and apparently a smuggler. Would you prefer general?”

The man paused then sighed. “Alright, point taken.”

“I have a target on my back,” he explained in a whisper, eyes darting to the ramp for Rey. The lie seemed believable enough, seeing as it was the truth. Just not the full one. “Are there any conspirators here? First Order sympathizers.”

Another sigh. “Listen, big shot. You’ve got another problem.”

Finn cocked his head.

“Women always figure out the truth.” He patted Finn’s chest as his heart stopped beating. “Always.”

“Why haven’t you said anything then?” he fired back before he could even think about it, cursing himself in his head.

Han’s face melted. “You’re a kid.”

“I’m grown,” Finn argued again.

“I’m over double your age. So you are a child. I suggest you find a way to tell her before it breaks her.” Solo pushed a blaster into his chest before walking away without another word.

Finn just stood there a minute to gather his thoughts. He turned around and some of the commanders were trying to hide their snickering.

“Not helping,” he hissed at them.

Maze dragged a hand down his face. “Come on, there was some truth in that statement.”

Finn ignored them, walking off the ship with Chewie in toe. He watched fondly as Solo spoke to Rey in a soft voice near the bank of the river, something she’d been deprived of.

“Chewie, check out the ship the best you can,” Solo said as he turned around. The Wookie grumbled in agreement.

They started walking, Rey practically skipping along the path. He just chuckled at her excitement and eagerness. He couldn’t deny his own curiosity. Simulations couldn’t put any of this to justice. His fingers brushed against the bark of trees and bushes as they walked.

“Why are we here again?” he asked.

“To get your droid a clean ship.”

“Clean?” Rey questioned.

“You think it was luck that Chewie and I found the Falcon? If we can find it on our scanners, the First Order’s not far behind.”

Finn looked up the tall red droid near the entrance of the temple-like structure, making sure it made no sudden movements.

“Wanna get BB-8 to the Resistance? Maz Kanata’s our best bet.”

Finn looked up, seeing bursts of color. Hundreds of banners hung between the walls of the temple, so many religions, clans, and creeds together in one place.

“We can trust her, right?”

Solo rolled his eyes. “Relax, kid. She’s run this watering hole for a thousand years. Max is a bit of an acquired taste so let me do the talking.” He jogged up the stairs and turned back to them before reaching the door. “And whatever you do, don’t stare.”

Finn and Rey shared a look.

“At what?” they both asked.

“Any of it.”

Finn and Rey walked into the building, life bustling around. Betting and gamble tables were spread around, loud conversations took place at the bar, and alcohol was everywhere.

“Han Solo!” a loud voice called out, cutting all sounds and music in the bar.

Finn found the small being first. He guessed it was Maz. She had orange skin and large goggles and would come up to maybe his hip.

“Oh, boy.” Solo sighed, looking around before raising an awkward hand in greeting. “Hey, Maz.”

The chatter resumed as Maz quickly made her way to them.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” she asked, making Finn frown.

“Chewie’s working on the Falcon.”

“I like that Wookie.” Maz’s eyes turned to Finn and Rey who stood side-by-side. “I assume you need something. Desperately. Let’s get to it.”

Finn gandered around and saw that none of the clones had followed him. Or they weren’t showing themselves to not distract him. He focused up as Maz led them to a table.

Finn let BB-8 do the talking.

“A map,” she said, almost in disbelief as the chirps of the droid finished, “to Skywalker himself.” She just gave a laugh to the Rebellion general. It still didn’t ease Finn’s nerves. “You are right back in the mess.”

Solo pressed his arms on the table. “Maz, I need you to get this droid to Leia.”

Finn and Rey shared a look.

“Who is that?” Rey whispered for only him to hear.

“Also part of the Rebellion,” he explained.

“Hmmm…no.”

Finn snapped to look at her, words already forming a rebuttal.

She just softened her face and smiled with a pat to Solo’s arm as the man scrubbed his face. “You’ve been running away from this fight for too long. Han…go home.”

Finn turned to the man and found regret coursing through him. What happened?

“Leia doesn't want to see me,” he whispered to her.

“Please,” Finn jumped in, “we came to you for help.”

Maz just stared at him.

“What fight?” Rey questioned firmly, lowering her voice.

“They only fight. Against the dark side.”

Finn felt ice cold water rush over him at the mere mention.

“Through the ages, I’ve seen evil take many forms.” She ducked her head to push away the horrors. “The Sith. The Empire. Today it’s the First Order.”

Finn didn’t blink, even as a cold hand appeared on his shoulder.

“Their shadow is spreading across the galaxy. We must face them. Fight them. All of us.”

Finn found himself shaking his head.

“Kih’vod,” someone whispered but he didn’t care.

He leaned forward, knocking the hand off of him. “There is no fight against the First Order,” he rushed out firmly. He felt Rey and Solo’s eyes on him. “Not one we can win.”

Rey’s face showed almost disappointment.

Why didn’t anyone get it?

“Look around, there’s no chance we haven’t been recognized already. I bet you the First Order is on their way right…” He paused as Maz started adjusting her goggles, eyes getting bigger. She made a soft sound. “What’s this?”

She glared at him.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, trying not to lose his cool. He was getting so tired of all of them. He felt exposed. 

Maz just started crawling on the table to him, eyes locked onto him.

Finn gritted his teeth, feeling this jaw clamp down. He looked at the man. “Solo, what is she doing ?” He wasn’t past swatting this lady off of the table.

“Finn, udessi,” a soft voice whispered. Normally, he would obey, but he was too high-strung. And the words didn’t comfort him as much as they normally.

Solo just shook his head. “I don’t know. But it ain’t good.”

A lot of fucking help he was.

Her hand stretched out right for him.

He slapped it away, making Rey gasp. All he could feel with the cold metal digits of the droids in the restricted sector holding him down or the tight and bruising grip of his trainers. Any touch that wasn’t from a clone wasn’t safe. “ Don’t touch me,” he ordered, nearly raising his voice.

Another string of Mando’a came.

Maz pulled back, not at all surprised by his reaction. “If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people.”

Finn fought his own tears.

“I see the eyes of a young man who wants to run .”

This was bullshit. All of her. He leaned forward, getting close to her face. “You don’t know a thing about me,” he snapped, just wanting to push her away. Actually, he just wanted to scream. “Where I’m from. What I’ve seen. You don’t know the First Order like I do. They’ll slaughter us. We all need to run.”

Maz’s googles adjusted back to their normal size and she sunk back into her seat. Finn could finally breathe again.

He felt Rey’s glare.

Maz leaned back into her chair with a smug look. “See those two over there?” She pointed. “They’ll trade work for transportation to the Outer Rim.”

He noted the masks hiding their identities. That didn’t give him a vote of confidence.

“There, you can disappear,” she said agonizingly.

“Finn!” Rey finally broke through their conversation.

He saw and felt so many emotions from her. “Come with me,” he said before he even thought it through.

She glanced down at the ground. “What about BB-8? We’re not done yet.”

Finn dropped his head into a hand.

“We have to get him back to your base,” she insisted.

BB-8 made some sad noises and shook his head.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He stood up from his seat and placed the blaster on the table.

Solo looked at him. “You sure about this?”

Finn just walked away. No, he wasn’t. But he didn't want to die. He stalked away from the table, standing near a secluded area. He pressed his hands into his temples, trying to think.

Hands appeared on his shoulders, pushing him back into the wall gently.

“Stop thinking,” Rex spoke firmly, golden eyes lit with bouncing thoughts. “Clear your head.”

He did so the best he could. His loud and strong emotions slipped away.

“Go away,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Please. Please just let me make this choice.”

Some hurt sounds came from the clones, and he knew that his words had slipped out before he could stop it.

Rex pressed their heads together briefly before he disappeared. Just as he did so, Rey approached him, tears brimming in her eyes.

He dropped his head to the side, returning the look.

“What are you doing?” she asked, face screwed up in frustration. “You can’t just go. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said before he could change his mind as he stared into her eyes.

She frowned. “Finn, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not Resistance. I’m not a hero”

Betrayal. That’s all he saw.

He bit his lip. “I’m a stormtrooper. Like all of them, I was taken from a family I’ll never know. And raised to do one thing.”

Rey fought tears.

“My first battle, I made a choice.” He needed her to understand. He couldn’t lose someone else. “I wasn’t going to kill for them. So I ran. Right into you . And you looked at me like no one ever had.”

Rey’s nose scrunched as she sniffed, looking off to the side before returning her gaze. 

“I was ashamed of what I was.” He paused. “But I’m done with the First Order and I’m never going back.” Stepping closer, he grabbed her hand. “Rey, come with me .”

He’d drop to his knees and beg. He’d crawl after her through fire. Because she was the only person that he trusted right now. His only solitude that wasn’t ghosts with cold touches.

“Don’t go,” she begged in turn, crushing his heart.

He couldn’t force her. He’d be no better than the First Order. He swallowed, looking into her eyes. “Take care of yourself, please.”

He tried to brush past her but her hands clamped around him, keeping him in place. Shutting his eyes for a moment to gather himself, he gave her a sad look. “I can’t go with you,” he whispered. “Not when it leads me back to them.”

If he went back to the First Order, he knew where he’d end up. Interrogation with the Knights of Ren or the man himself. Strapped to that cold table with the binds crushing his body. They’d pick through his head until they broke him.

“No!”

Both of them paused.

The call hadn’t come from inside of the building. It echoed over Finn, like a remnant of a dream washing over him. Please, no. Not now.

“Did you hear that?” Rey asked which shocked him.

His jaw went slack. “You heard it?” She just nodded with a sharp nod.

“No!” the same little girl cried.

Rey turned around, eyes scanning over the crowd while Finn did the same.

None of the other patrons gave any hints of hearing the little girl pleading for assistance.

“Please, stop!” This time a little boy screamed.

Together, they walked up the stairs toward the back end of the building, focusing on where the screaming was coming from.

For some reason, Finn felt compelled to head toward the stairs leading to a lower floor. He took Rey’s hand, directing her over there with BB-8 at their feet. Cold air breezed past him, as if a warning to not go down there.

More echoes came, but Finn couldn’t distinguish anything.

They carefully walked down the stairs, and BB-8 thunked down with each step. The stairs curved for a bit before leveling out to a dark corridor. 

“Please help!”

“No, come back!”

It was so distant Finn thought he was making it up.

A few lanterns were lit, but it did nothing for the darkness.

Finn started walking, the constriction appearing in his chest. A feeling of grief washed over him as he continued with Rey at his side.

They passed closed doors with command pads, most likely just storage, but Finn didn’t trust it. Something was lurking down here with him.

Rey paused in front of one of the doors, making Finn stop as well to look at her. Her brow was pinched with confusion. Then he flinched when the command pad lit up green and clanked.

The door began to open by itself.

They shared a look before walking into the storage unit. It was a fairly large room with lots of junk around it. Chests, sheets, and other artifacts rested, frozen in time.

Finn looked around each corner for someone to jump out or to find the small children begging for help.

One chest in particular resting at hip height had his attention. There was nothing special about it, just dark wood with a metal latch. He didn’t quite know why but he felt drawn to it. So did Rey.

The grief inside of him shifted into something else. He couldn’t put a finger on it but it was similar to…longing. As if he’d been separated from whatever was in that box for too long.

Rey crouched down, fingers trembling as she lifted the latch up. Slowly, she eased the box open, and he hovered next to her, dropping to his knees as well.

Small creaks came from the hinges but the air went stale with their tension.

Finn’s throat closed up as he saw what was in that box. A lightsaber. The whispers swarming in his head just grew louder. His fingers twitched. For some reason, they both reached for it. As soon as they touched it, the sound of an igniting lightsaber cutting through the air.

Rey gave a sharp gasp as the box slammed shut.

“Shit,” Finn said as their surroundings changed . Darkness swarmed them.

That harsh breathing returned to his ears, sending him into a state of panic. His nightmares. He was stuck in his nightmares again.

“No!”

The cry was so much louder, as if the child was standing right next to him. Her voice broke as she screamed.

He saw nothing but terror in Rey’s eyes.

Lights started turning on around them, exposing the sight of a cruiser of some sort. 

“It’s energy…”

Rey started down the corridor, and Finn had no choice but to follow her.

“What the hell?” he whispered.

A loud whirring sound appeared before an explosion ripped through the ship, sending them stumbling.

As soon as they started toward the floor, it switched again.

Finn landed onto rocky ground, choking as ash invaded his lungs. He cradled Rey’s fall, her eyes filling with tears. A flash of heat washed over him, making it even harder to breathe.

He wanted the clones. He shouldn’t have sent them away. He wanted them.

Finn trained his eyes forward to the bright light source stinging his eyes. However, it wasn’t a light source but a river of red hot lava. More ash stuck to his throat.

He started to rise to his knees when he trained his eyes on what was over the river.

Two figures—no Jedi —dueled with lightsabers, trading blows and blocks so quickly that Finn couldn't even follow.

“You were the chosen one!” a man screamed with so much anguish and loss it had Finn tearing up.

Rey tried to crawl to them, but the rocks shifted under them, and they started rolling down to the lava.

Finn’s fingers dug into the ground but that wasn’t enough.

Instead of landing in hot lava, he felt grass underneath him.

“Finn?” he heard Rey whisper.

He just found her hand as they stood up.

Finn whipped around, his head spinning with too many things changing in front of him. Too much information to process. The tall grass brushed against his hands.

He froze when saw something that he recognized. Clones.

This wasn’t a dream.

He studied their armor, determining them to be from Bly’s battalion. And in front of the large squad of troopers running through the planet was a Jedi. She was a Twi’lek with smooth blue skin and kind eyes that were narrowed in focus.

He could feel her kindness, her adoration flowing through him. Her strong but kind face warmed something in him.

The clones were focused and he couldn’t see their eyes through the visors, but they felt the same.

They came to a slow walk.

The commander paused.

Finn cocked his head. “Bly?” he whispered, too softly for Rey to even hear.

Bly’s comm beeped with a transmission. He opened the link, and a small hologram appeared. Finn couldn’t see who the figure was.

“Execute Order 66.”

That voice. Finn had heard that voice before in his other dreams. The gravely, raspiness caked in pure self-righteousness. Finn hated it.

Bly stiffened. Then the other clones did as well.

Finn froze. What the hell was happening? He tried to move forward but Rey held him back.

Finn’s jaw dropped as the clones lifted their blasters, aiming for their Jedi. A Jedi that they had nothing but love for.

Jedi that they had told him they trusted with their lives.

She froze as the back of the squad circled around. Her lightsaber lowered as she watched her troopers aim their weapons at her. “Bly?” she questioned, looking the commander right through the visor. “Jake?” she asked another, worry slipping into her voice.

And then they shot her.

He felt the bolt enter his own chest.

Rey yelled, pulling Finn into a run.

Finn couldn’t breathe. They had shot her. Killed her. Their Jedi.

They turned to sprint as fast as possible, but it changed again.

Now Bacara stood there in the snow with his men, looking up from his vembrace. His blaster started to rise.

“Cara,” he whispered.

The man just started firing.

“No!” Finn screamed with tears in his eyes.

Bacara’s men opened fire on their Jedi. He blocked a few shots, but in his attempts to not redirect their shots straight back to them, he hit the snow with blaster shots littered all over him.

Rey let out another cry.

Finn looked up at the sound of engines flying by. Four smaller ships flew over them until three of them broke out of formation, firing at their squadron leader. The ship’s engine blew out, sending the pilot straight into the side of the mountain.

104th grey paint.

Every way they turned, they watched as the Jedi hit the ground. Finn didn’t recognize the clones in front of him.

His clones were war-hardened but were able to soften their sharp edges for him. They never raised their voices in anger. They taught him about the galaxy with no judgment.

These clones were cold. Calculated. And killing their Jetti.

Cody.

Monnk.

Grey.

Doom.

Blitz.

Boil.

Thorn.

Neyo.

Rex.

So many of them.

He collapsed to his knees, unable to take all the carnage.

But that’s when he heard screaming. The clones were screaming inside of his head. Trying to fight.

Rey had to drag him away, dashing through a forest. Finn didn’t look back.

They turned the corner when they were back onto a ship. At least Finn thought it was a ship. But the walls caved into a triangle and it was cramped, unlike any ship he’d been on. They just continued to run until Rey skidded to a stop in front of a viewport.

Finn pressed against the glass. Two figures were in the center of the room—or lack there up. There was a maintenance catwalk which led to a processing vane.

One man was cloaked in black with a mask covering his face. And his breathing through the vocoder—it was his breathing. His lightsaber was clipped onto his belt. He was a Sith.

A boy stood near him, cowering near him and clutching his right hand to his chest.

“It’s not true!” he screamed.

The ground shook beneath Finn’s feet. Rey stumbled and he caught her around the waist.

By the time they looked back, the boy had just let go, falling into the abyss. Finn choked down a curse.

“The energy…”

The ground lurched upward and they fell back. Finn’s back slammed on the ground, knocking a groan out of him.

“...surrounds us…”

Finn and Rey rolled on the sand. 

“No!” that blond boy from just moments ago yelled.

In front of them, a large fire billowed in front of them.

Finn felt more tears fall.

“...and binds us…”

A man sat on the ground, hood drawn up over his head. His metal right hand reached up to the white and blue astromech next to him. 

Rain pelted them, slammed down in torrents.

Another lightsaber came to life behind them.

Finn yelped, flipping over in the mud.

Over top of them, a man stood with his arm raised as a red blade slicing right through him.

Finn clapped a hand over his mouth, and Rey let out a sob. Finn heaved her to her feet, both of them stumbling around.

“The force will be…”

Finn’s stomach turned inside out as he looked around. As far as he could see were bodies strewn on the ground. And in front of them stood Kylo Ren and his Knights.

Rey stumbled back, pulling Finn with her.

Ren’s head snapped toward them, studying them. And then he marched toward them.

Finn wanted to run.

“No!”

They spun around behind them, and the sun burned right into Finn’s eyes. Sand dunes graced him. And the sight of a little girl with tears running down her red cheeks.

Rey .

Her little arm was grasped tightly in Unkar’s grasp, and Finn wanted to rip him away from her.

He looked to Rey next to him, seeing her giving soundless sobs as she watched her younger self scream and tell.

“Come back!”

Unkar growled down at her, “Quiet, girl.”

“No!”

Rey turned to the sky, and Finn followed her. A small transport ship left the atmosphere, and the sky turned dark once again.

“Help!” a young boy yelled.

Stark, durasteel walls greeted Finn. Familiar walls.

He trembled as they stood outside the First Order training facility. General Hux stood in front of the doors, watching the rows of children walking into the building in single file. All their heads were bowed down.

Except for one little boy with dark skin. He darted out of line, running for the hills. But his little body was no match for the stormtrooper that darted out to grab him.

“Help me!” he screamed at the top of his lungs for the entire planet to hear.

It was him.

Finn’s knees hit the ground. He didn’t even remember this.

“Please!”

He couldn’t have been older than four. A baby practically.

Rey’s gentle hand rested on his shoulder as he bowed his head.

He didn’t need to watch as the young boy was dragged into the facility.

A cold touch graced his skin. At first he relaxed, expecting it to be his salvation. But no. Snowflakes fell across him.

Snowflake. Like his dreams.

“Rey?” a voice echoed.

The forest trees formed.

Finn grabbed onto Rey. He knew what was coming. “We need to move.”

Rey didn't question him as they ran through the snow

“Finn?”

But then Kylo Ren stalked out from behind a boulder with his lightsaber raised.

“Fuck!” Finn yelled as they stumbled back.

Finn’s spine rattled as he fell back into Maz’s basement. The visions had disappeared. Nothing but the stone walls greeted him.

But one more whisper graced him. “These are your first steps.”

Rey trembled next to him, chills going through her body. Her green eyes were rimmed with tears as they looked at each other. He wanted to say something but a soft cry was building up. One of his own tears fell.

What the hell was that?

Chapter Text

Finn looked to the left to see Maz just standing there in the hallway. Rey’s breathing didn’t slow and neither did Finn’s utter fear.

He felt as if the shadows were swimming around them, threatening to jump out and drag them down. Finn pressed closer to Rey, needing to protect her.

The small woman walked to them slowly.

“What was that?” Rey asked on the verge of sobbing.

Finn got up off the floor, supporting her weight.

“We shouldn’t have gone in there,” Finn said, voice breaking.

He wanted the clones.

BB-8 rolled near their feet.

Maz looked up at them. “That lightsaber was Luke’s.”

Finn just stared down at her, trying to remember to breathe. But he couldn’t get what he saw out of his head. The Jedi’s bodies strewn across the ground.

“And his father’s before his.” Her face broke into a small smile. “And now, it calls to you.” She lifted her hands to both of them.

Hell no. He didn’t know what that meant. He had enough worries already with running from the First Order, and he didn’t have time for this.

“I have to get back to Jakku,” Rey whispered. Her instinct. Her defense mechanism. He put a hand on her back, and she leaned into it. Separating from her would hurt so damn bad.

“Han told me.” The woman lifted her goggles to the top of her head. Slowly she reached for their hands. Rey took it easily, but Finn hesitated. He nearly flinched at the warmth. They went on their knees.

“Dear child…” she murmured to Rey. “I see it in your eyes. You already know the truth.” She glanced at Finn. “Whomever you were waiting for on Jakku…they’re never coming back.”

Rey’s face fell, a tear running down his cheek. Finn didn’t know how to help her, and he hated it. The clones were able to help him without an ounce of hesitation, but he couldn’t return the favor to his friend. His one and only friend. Poe’s loss always hit him like a train, but he hadn’t known the man for long. He needed Rey.

“But there’s someone who still could.”

Maz squeezed his hand.

The name everyone would whisper, a savior. A light bringer.

“Luke,” he whispered. A warmth rush went around him.

“The longing you both seek is not behind you…not a life that you wished you had. It is ahead. I am no Jedi, but I know the Force. It moves through and surrounds every living thing.”

Finn felt something shift inside of him. And he could suddenly…feel something.

Maz shut her eyes. “Close your eyes. Feel it.”

He did as he was instructed.

He felt it rush through him. Like running water. Like energy flowing through him. Always there but hiding. Until the clones. 

“The light…it’s always been there.”

It felt…wonderful. He felt surrounded by the past, the present, and hints of the future. He couldn't describe it. The array of colors. The serenity. The peace. But he didn’t want to leave.

“It will guide you.” Maz opened her eyes, setting Rey’s face. “The saber. Take it.”

The spell was broken by Rey wrenching out of his grip. Finn stumbled, hand closing around nothing again.

“I’m never touching that thing again,” she spat out, brushing past her. “I don’t want any part of this.” BB-8 went after her, giving soft beeps.

Finn shuffled back to rest his spine against the wall. His eyes trained on the box and the sting of tears came. He held his knees to his chest.

“What did you see?” the woman asked him gently.

Finn shook his head. His lip wobbled, threatening to make him break. She just knew too damn much.

“Whatever you’re running from, it will not stop chasing you. You are a fighter, Finn. So live like one.”

Finn closed his eyes, resting his head on knees. He was beginning to understand that, to his dismay. A soft sob left him.

Maz gave him a small pat on the arm before making her way to the stairs.

Finn broke down, everything flooding out of him.

Release it , something compelled in him. Give us your pain.

He sat there crying like a toddler. “Please,” he gasped. “I need you.” He just kept repeating it. “I need you. I need you. I need you. Please, gods, I need you . Gedet’ye!”

Arms wrapped around him, separating him from the wall. “Shhhh, shhhh.”

Finn welcomed the touch and the rest of the growing energy as the clones filled the corridor. A sense of home rushed over him. He shoved himself closer

“Udessi,” one of them whispered.

“We’re not going anywhere,” another said.

“We’ve got you.”

“Take a breath.”

Pressure appeared on the front of his head. He leaned into it, cries still falling past his lips.

“ Why? ” he begged through his tears. “You killed them. Why? ” They were his salvation. He couldn’t live without them, but right now, his heart was snapping.

A new pair of hands cradled his face, swiping through his tears. “Eyes, kih’vod.”

Finn slowly cracked them open. Through his swimming vision, he looked into Fives’ eyes. Finn wanted to believe whatever he said.

“The chips were loaded with orders. Trigger words.” Fives whispered to him. Not to keep it a secret but because he was trying not to lose it himself. “ That order. It was a contingency if the Jedi turned on the Republic. The Sith triggered the order to take down the Republic through the Jedi. We had no choice.”

Finn buckled into Niner’s comforting grip around him, continuing to cry. Releasing. They surrounded him in hugs, whispering to him in Mando’a that he was beginning to understand.

But then he pulled out of the commander’s grip, going back to the wall. Just staring down at the floor.

“Finn?” someone whispered.

They’d kept secrets from him, and he was starting to figure them out. The way they called him special, different. It wasn’t bullshit to make him feel better about himself—it was true .

“The Force,” he rasped. He looked at all of them. “That’s what you’ve been keeping from me.”

Shame and regret flooded through features like a wave. He had connected the dots.

Finn gave another sob, looking to Rex. The man just sat in front of him, waiting for whatever he was going to say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Crying made him feel like a child. But betrayal hit him. They had kept it from him. And it wasn’t the only thing. That feeling had always been deep inside of him. From the beginning. He just didn’t know what it was, but they did.

“Finn,” Comet murmured softly.

Finn glared at him. “You didn’t tell me! You knew from the beginning! All of you did!”

Soft groans of anguish and sighs of disappointment rang out.

Ordo crouched down next to him. “Yes, we knew.” He didn’t sugarcoat it. Finn didn’t know if he appreciated it or not. “We’re not Jetti, ad’ika. We didn’t know how to help you.”

Finn crumbled. “You didn’t tell me.” He went back to crying into his knees. He remembered his small self begging for someone to save him in that vision, the way his voice cracked as he screamed . “You were there from the beginning and you didn’t say anything .”

He had only started to notice them when he was twelve. Just flashes around the corner. He was twenty when he first spoke to them. They had been at that facility for way longer than they made out to be.

“Ni ceta,” Rex rasped. “Ad’ika, ni ceta. We…we just didn't know what to do.”

Finn peered at him over his knees. Rex leaned closer to hold his wrist. Finn gave a weak, almost pathetic shove even though it would just go through. Just a child acting out.

His hand made contact with plastoid. Rex’s chestplate. He pushed the captain back just a few inches. But he had touched him.

Rex froze. Finn froze. Everybody did.

“Di’kulta Jetti osik,” Fi murmured.

Finn regretted it. He leaned into the captain’s space himself. Rex’s arms held him tight, the tension leaving his body as Finn rested against him.

“No more secrets,” Finn cried. “Gedet’ye. I can’t take it.”

Fordo put a hand on his back.

Wooley squeezed his thigh.

Howzer put a hand on his nape.

“No more secrets,” Ordo swore.

The rest of the room echoed the sentiment.

“Did you see?” he asked them softly.

“Yeah…we did,” Cody almost shivered.

Finn’s eyes found the box with his eyes again. Rex squeezed him tighter. “Was it his? Your Jedi?”

Rex nodded. “Yeah,” he said with a shake in his voice. “It’s Anakin’s.”

Finn just continued to stare at it. “Why does it want me?” It didn’t take much to figure out that Maz was convinced that they were the rightful owners of the lightsaber. He just didn’t know why.

“The Force bonds you to other force users. It’s weird,” Ponds put it bluntly for him, and Finn appreciated it.

“I don’t want it,” he whispered to them, glancing around. 

Maze ran a hand through his hair. “We know you don’t. And we’re so sorry you’re burdened with this.”

Finn ducked his head into Rex’s neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He didn’t want to hurt the captain.

“It was the only thing in your control. I’m not mad,” he whispered back.

Finn looked down at his hands as he pulled away. He didn’t feel any different. It all felt the same. Maybe it had always been there and he just didn’t notice. “What do I do?” he asked.

Tup reached for his hands with his, and Finn flinched back. He didn't want to hurt them. Tup just continued until their hands were connected. “You live,” he said simply. “This doesn’t change who you are.”

Waxer smirked. “Just an added bonus.”

Finn slowly squeezed his hands and he felt Tup. Really felt him. He increased the pressure and then he phased through, hands making loose fists around nothing. Tup just lifted his chin with a smile.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Finn sat there for a few more minutes in their comforting embrace before he pulled away. “I should probably go find her,” he muttered.

Seventeen’s hand darted out, keeping in place. “What’s your plan?”

Finn rolled it around in his head as he stared at the box. If he did have the Force inside of him and the First Order figured it out, he was a dead man. He couldn’t do this by himself, because no matter how much he cared for the clones, they couldn’t stop a blaster bolt from going through his head. “Staying with Solo.”

Thorn sighed, tension forming in his brow. “Finn, your best bet might be with the Resistance.”

Finn straightened up in fear. “Then I’m really fucked.”

Tech pushed his glasses up. “Statistically, you would be safer with them as they have more firepower than the former general. And they may possibly have a Force-user to assist you in learning your new…abilities.”

That made him want to throw up. They really thought he was that powerful. That dangerous. He took a step back.

“Stop it,” Hardcase ordered. “You’re doing that spiraling thing again.”

“I’m a stormtrooper. They’d probably shoot me as soon as I told them the truth.”

“Finn, you saved one of their pilots,” Flash, one of Bly’s men, told him softly.

Hawk hummed. “They need as many of those as they can get. They’re the first line of defense. And Poe would defend you if…”

“If he was still alive ,” Finn bit out.

Rex put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s your choice either way. We just want to give you your best chance.”

Finn stared into his eyes. “How do you know?”

The captain had a soft smile. “If the Organa’s are still the face of the Resistance like they were with the Rebellion, you’re in safe hands.”

“That’s a big if, Rex,” Finn whispered. He hadn’t heard much in recent years about Leia Organa.

“I’m asking you to trust me.”

Finn could finally see the age weighing down on Rex. If he knew about the Rebellion, he had lived much longer than Finn originally thought. “Okay,” he whispered. It terrified him, but he did trust them.

He made his way back up the stairs with only a few of the clones following him to keep him from being overwhelmed with too many things to focus on.

Finn froze as people spilled out of the bar. He followed after them, catching sight of Chewie’s tall form. He chased after him, staying close to Solo as the man and the others looked into the sky.

Finn gasped at the large red streak in the sky.

Starkiller.

“No.”

They watched as the thin beams became bright bursts of light, signalling the destruction of so many plants. Finn gripped Solo’s arm.

“It was the Republic,” he said. “The First Order. They’ve done it.” He looked around, expecting to see the young woman not far from the man’s side. His heart clenched. Wrong wrong wrong . “Where’s Rey?”

Solo just looked at him. “She’s not with you? Why are you still here?”

Finn held on tighter to him. “She ran off. We found something in Maz’s basement.”

Solo sighed tensely, looking around. “BB-8’s probably with her. We’ll start looking around.”

Maz cleared her throat. “There is something I must show you,” she said to the smuggler. “Something I should’ve told you about long ago. Come.”

Finn, Chewie, and Solo followed her back into the compound and down the familiar steps. Finn carefully watched Solo’s face the entire time. Chewie warbled a few times, patting a hand on his back.

“I’ve had this for ages.” Maz went to that damned box and opened it up, revealing the sleek silver of the lightsaber. Solo stiffened, breath catching. Chewie cocked his head. Maz lifted it out and offered it to the general. “Kept it locked away.”

Solo just stared at the saber. “Where’d you get that?”

Maz walked forward. Toward Finn. “A story for another time.”

Finn stared at the weapon in her hand. He couldn’t do it.

“Take it. Find your friend.” She held it up to him.

Chewie cooed softly, stepping behind him. He felt the warmth from the creature washing over him.

“Finn,” one of the clones whispered.

More voices whispered to him, soft enough that he couldn’t really hear their words. But he reached his hand out, fingers brushing against the metal. His hand wrapped around it, and the voices changed. Happy .

The moment was interrupted by the ground shaking as a mortar hit the compound.

Chewie growled, holding onto his crossbow tighter.

“Those beasts. They’re here.”

Finn looked to Solo. “We need to find Rey.”

They ran up the stairs and out of the compound which was coming down around them. Fires cracked near them while the stench of burning flesh and ozone attacked him.

TIE fighters flew overhead, their screams rattling in Finn’s chest.

Chewie moved the rubble from around them, Solo firing at any stormtrooper nearby with military precision.

Finn blindly followed, looking all around for his friend. She wasn’t here and not as far as Finn could see. Panic set in.

TIE fighters were all around them and he swore he saw signs of Ren’s ship. If he and his Knights were there, they were all screwed. More blaster fire sounded from around the compound, some of the bar goers fighting back. 

“Finn, you’re a sitting duck. Do something.”

Finn stumbled down some rubble, trying to keep up with Han.

“Rey and BB-8 need you now! Go!” Maz ordered from behind.

He spun around, yelling over the chaos. “I need a weapon!”

She gave a short roll of her eyes before her small hand went on top of his, lifting the lightsaber up for him to see. “You have one!”

Finn felt sick. He didn’t know the first thing about lightsabers except that they were able to do lots of damage.

His thumb traced over an activator switch—at least, he hoped it was that. Taking a quick breath, he pressed down. That sharp whoosh sound reached his ears as a blue blade of light came from the hilt. It was…beautiful in a way.

Finn looked up and noticed that Han and Chewie had already separated from him and Maz, trying their best to take out as many troops as they could.

Finn saw his first target. A stormtrooper was advancing toward a younger man with his blaster raised. He rushed toward them, catching the trooper by surprise. Finn rammed the hilt of the lightsaber through his chest plate, feeling nothing but a small bit of resistance but it sliced through the man with no trouble at all. Finn pushed the man off the blade before deactivating the lightsaber.

Finn stared down at the trooper for just a moment. Who did he just kill? One of the people he had considered a friend?

“Traitor!”

He froze at the familiar voice, turning around slowly.

It was Nines, armed with a small riot shield and a blaster. He tossed both away. “I was hoping I’d be the one to kill you.”

Finn just raised his lightsaber with both hands, daring him to come closer. But then Nines pulled a weapon from his belt that Finn wasn’t familiar with.

He waved it around in quick motions. Finn could only guess it was some type of control baton, the stun receptors firing with blue sparks.

“Well fuck me,” Finn muttered. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Nines charged toward him, and Finn waved the lightsaber to block his attack but it knocked him back with the force of it. Nines didn’t release the pressure, crowding toward him with firm steps as Finn stumbled back.

Nines was relentless with his vicious blows which gave Finn barely anytime to block. Nines was whupping his ass once again. Fucking perfect.

Finn put some distance between them, preparing for his attack. Instead of fighting back hard and aggressively like Nines, he tried to stay fluid like water.

Nines grunted as he pushed back against Finn’s blows.

“So what? Get a pretty laser sword and think you’re good enough for Resistance?” Nines snarked at him.

Finn managed to kick him in the knee before clipping his arm with the lightsaber. “Better than being a stormtrooper.”

They traded blows back and forth, neither of them gaining much ground. Finn got caught in the ribs with a graze of Nines’ weapon, making his body seize up enough for Nines to push him back.

Finn crawled back in the dirt and ash, looking down at the lightsaber. Nines was closing in. He activated it. Hoping this plan wasn’t as stupid as he thought it was, he threw the blade toward Nines.

The blade sliced through Nines’ abdomen, the man giving a choked sound of pain. His knees hit the ground.

Finn stalked toward him, retrieving the lightsaber before kicking Nines to the ground.

“You’ll always be a traitor,” Nines panted, looking up at him through the damn visor. Empty and lifeless. Finn saw nothing. “Especially to them. They’ll always be tailing you, following you. Never fully trusting you.”

Finn got closer to Nines. “I’d rather die without their trust than ever kill for the First Order again.”

Nines made a quick movement to stab at Finn, but he was faster. The lightsaber cut through his chest, leaving a charred streak in his armor. Nines went still on the ground.

Finn’s hand clenched around the lightsaber, grip trembling. 

A hand appeared on his shoulder. “Alright big shot?”

Finn looked up at Han and Chewie, seeing concern painting their faces. “I think so,” he whispered.

Han helped him stand up and kept him steady.

“Don’t move!”

Finn felt the blood drain from his body. Stormtroopers surrounded them, blasters raised. Nonono, please no. They’d kill them. No survivors.

He gave a shaking hand sign. Help . He didn’t want to die.

“TK-338, we have targets in custody.”

They ripped their weapons out of their hands, and Finn saw how all the troopers were staring directly at him. The traitor. Finn just glared at them all.

“Hands on your heads, start walking.”

Finn dug his feet in until a blaster was pointed to his back. He started walking, falling Chewie and Han as they were brought closer to the remaining squads of stormtroopers.

“Finn,” someone whispered softly.

It was Gregor walking beside him. Finn tried to keep his wandering gaze as inconspicuous as possible.

“We…”

There was nothing they could do. He was going to die. Everything suddenly became too real. He should’ve left. Never should’ve stayed to find out the truth. The truth didn’t matter if he was dead.

Finn’s eyes stung with tears as he stared at the commander.

“We’re with you,” the man whispered to him, like Finn was a broken child. That’s what he felt like at the moment. “We’re always with you.”

If Finn was going to die, at least he wasn’t alone.

Just as Finn was about to give up all hope, one of the stormtrooper’s commlink crackled.

“ We have incoming at 28.6.”

The lieutenant stared out toward the water. “Move! Move! Move!”

The troopers scattered like flies.

“Scramble all squads!” one of them shouted. “Repeat, scramble all squads!”

Finn narrowed his eyes, trying to see what had them so worried. He slowly lowered his hands to his head, looking to Han and Chewie.

Han had a soft smile on his face, one of pure disbelief. “It’s the Resistance.”

X-wings. That’s was what flying over the water, a small squad. But it was enough.

They split out of their formation as they engaged the TIE fighters. The troopers on the ground opened fire as well, but they were getting picked off.

Finn watched as one pilot flew overhead and with precision he had never seen in a spacecraft before, took fire at the four stormtroopers still keeping them hostage. FInn looked around to make sure they’d stay dead.

Han looked toward the dead troopers that had their weapons. “Quick!”

Finn retrieved his lightsaber and a blaster at the last second. While the saber was nice, a blaster was something that he could rely on. He fired at a few distracted troopers before focusing on the sky.

An x-wing flew like a banshee, ducking and weaving while taking out any TIE fighter in range. Quick, smooth, and deadly.

“That’s one hell of a pilot,” Finn said with a smile.

He caught back up with Han and Chewie, but something felt wrong in his chest. Something threatened to crack his ribs, taking his breath away.

“Finn?” Han questioned.

“Somethings wrong,” he rasped out.

Chewie warbled a few things while FInn’s world slid out of focus.

“Yeah, they’re retreating. I don’t like it.”

Finn shook his head, trying to clear everything. A hand cupped his cheek, lifting it slowly. One of the wolfpack medics given by the grey paint, a small wolf painted on his vembrace, and the medic insignia on his shoulder.

BB-8 suddenly appeared out of nowhere, giving nervous beeps in binary.

Finn looked up to see Ren’s ship. A few troopers stood guard but he saw no sign of Ren or his Knights. But then a cloaked figure stepped out of the forest. Ren.

Finn stiffened, that feeling in his chest returning. He looked closer.

Ren cradled something in his arms, bright against his dark clothing. A person. A person with brown hair and sand-staining clothing. Rey .

“Shit!”

Finn rushed toward the ship. He had no plan. Not a single one. He heard the clones shouting at him and even felt the cold touch as they tried to grab onto him.

He ran through the destruction even as the TIE fighters and x-wings still battled it out in the sky.

“Finn!” Han shouted at him.

He just kept running. He needed to get to her.

But he was too late. THe hatch had already closed and he could hear the thrusters warming up. The ship started rising into the sky while the TIE fighters bugged out, leaving only the Resistance pilots.

Finn crashed to his knees. He couldn’t breathe again. His skin crackled with something bad . She was gone. In the hands of the First Order.

Arms wrapped tightly around him, giving him some feeling of a safety that only a clone could provide. A hand slid to his nape.

“Shhhh, shhhh.”

“She’s gone,” he whispered. “They’ll kill her.”

“She’s valuable to them. They must’ve known that she’d been traveling with BB-8 and would’ve seen the map at this point.”

Monnk’s words sounded logical, but Finn still felt an incredible weight crushing on him.

“Kid, come on,” Han muttered to him.

Finn allowed the man to stand him up before he was pulled close by Chewie. The Wookie softly grumbled to him. Finn looked at Han, and he knew that the man could see the beginnings of tears.

“I know ,” Han said firmly. “But we have to move.”

“I can’t just leave her.” His voice broke.

“Finn, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

Finn leaned further into Chewie. The creature hugged him tighter.

Finn just allowed himself to be manhandled toward a transport ship that had landed. Finn forward down at the ground when BB-8 rolled around.

“B?” he questioned softly.

The droid perked up before rolling to press against his leg. He wasn’t okay either.

The transport doors opened, and Chewie carefully pulled Finn away. A body pressed against his back, offering support to his tired body. Finn tried to keep it as natural as possible.

Some Resistance fighters came pouring out, scattering out to check for survivors. Finn stiffened as they passed.

A woman around Han’s age walked out of the transport, eyes settling on the rebellion General. Time seemed to slow down as the woman looked at him with a complicated expression. It didn’t make Finn nervous however.

Then a gold-plated droid stepped in front.

“Han Solo!” he greeted cheerily. “It is I, C-3PO. You probably don’t recognize me because of the red arm.”

Chewie rolled his eyes next to Finn, pulling a soft smile from him.

The droid turned around to the women. “Look who it is! Did you see who…” She raised her brows with a fond smile. “Oh. Uh. Hmm. Excuse me, Prin… General , sorry. Come along BB-8, quickly.” The two droids walked away while talking.

“You changed your hair,” Han opened with. Finn wasn’t sure that was his best idea.

“Same jacket,” she snarked back, surprising him. She still felt safe .

“No,” Han argued. “New jacket.”

Chewie walked toward the woman while chittering happily, pulling her into a hug which she returned.

“I saw him,” Han whispered.

The woman’s face fell.

Finn turned away as they spoke in a whisper, giving them the privacy they deserved. A hand turned him around a few minutes later, one he didn’t recognize.

The woman had approached him with a careful look on her face as she studied him. He swallowed. He made a soft gasp as she pulled him close to her chest, a slightly awkward position but they made it work. Finn clutched onto her, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn’t do something stupid like cry on her shoulder.

“Go with Han. We’ll talk later,” she whispered to him.

Finn pulled back. “Who are you?”

She smiled softly as a breeze. “Call me Leia.”

He stuttered a few times. Leia Organa. The General of the Resistance. He wanted to crawl in a hole. She just patted his cheek before making her way back onto the transport.

Han led him to the Falcon silently with Chewie going with the general.

Finn dropped the lightsaber on the round table in the common room, just staring at it. Han plugged a few things into the Nav before coming back out to him.

“So…what happened in the basement?”

Finn’s fingers trembled. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “We just touched it and…” The strangest thing was the fact he could feel everything with physical touch. The ash. The snow. Feel the rattle of screaming inside of his chest.

Han hummed, getting his attention. “Did you have a vision?” he said casually.

Finn nodded slowly. “I think.”

“What’d you see?” Han asked, sitting down at the table.

Finn took a few seconds before following. A hand appeared on his leg. He paid it no attention. “A lot of things.”

“I’m guessing some weren’t so good. You look like you saw a ghost.”

Multiple choking off laughs came from the ship but Finn couldn't see the culprits. He nodded.

“Order 66,” he whispered. “Two Jedi battling on a planet of lava. Another battle but one of them was a sith. Ren and his Knights.”

Han studied the lightsaber, fingers brushing over it. “I haven’t seen this in a long time.”

“She said it was Luke’s. Is that true?” Finn asked.

Han shrugged. “It came from his father. Anakin Skywalker. He was a Jedi Master. A powerful one. His master kept it until Luke was of age. He protected Luke on Tatooine. Luke had this until his duel with Vader in Sky City.”

Finn frowned. “Did he lose his hand?” He recalled the snippet of the vision.

Han’s brows shot up. “He did. You saw that?”

Finn nodded. “And that figure with the mask…”

The smuggler gave a sharp smile. “That was Vader. Scary motherfucker, wasn’t he? He did not like me very much. Same with Boba Fett, his bounty hunter.”

Finn’s head snapped up. “ Fett ?”

Solo’s smirk stayed. “You’ve heard of him as well. Royal pain in my ass, but he was a bounty hunter. He was doing his job, just like mean. I don’t really know his relation to Jango Fett, but I would guess it was his son. I threw him into a Sarlac pit on Tatooine, but somehow, he survived. Rumor has it that he’s shacked up with the current leader of Mandalore, Din Djarin.”

Finn had felt more clothes appear the moment Boba was mentioned. He could feel the nervous but hopeful energy.

“He took Rey,” Finn whispered.

Solo’s face evened out. “I know, kid.”

“I have to get her,” he insisted.

“Kid—”

“No, she would do the same for me.” Finn wasn’t above begging. “Please.”

“We’ll see what Leia can do.”

“You know her well?” Finn questioned. He couldn’t put a finger on their relationship. 

Han snorted, leaning back in his seat. “I would sure hope so considering she’s my wife.”

Finn blinked. “ Oh. Honestly, I didn’t even think of that.”

The man clenched his jaw. “Rude.”

“I’m just saying,” Finn tossed his hands in the air. “You seem like the lonely, brooding type.”

“Ouch.” Han leaned forward. “But there’s something else we have to discuss.”

Finn’s heart froze in his chest. Here it came. The speech about how he shouldn’t stay around the Resistance for long.

“Why’d you leave the First Order?” the man whispered. 

Finn nervously fidgeted. “There was a pilot. They were torturing him. Just after my first mission. I couldn’t kill anyone. And I couldn’t let him rot in a cell until they decided he no longer had any use.”

“Okay. Get some sleep.” Han stood up.

Finn blinked. “Wait, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Solo nodded. “For now. Go to bed,” he ordered like Finn was a child.

Stunned, Finn slowly headed back to the bunk room. Hands pushed him down onto the bunk when he just stood there.

“Finn, sleep,” Seventeen ordered carefully.

“I’m not five.” This was one of his most recurring arguments.

“I know. My boys told me the same thing until they were twenty and left Kamino.”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “You are aware I’m going to wake up screaming, right?”

Seventeen’s face softened. “Kih’vod, you still need sleep.”

Tears burned his eyes. He fisted the sheets beneath his hands. “Please,” he begged softly, hoping for once they would let him win.

Ordo’s vembraces appeared in his vision as the man slowly maneuvered him to lay down. Finn stared up at them with pleading eyes, but he didn’t stop the man..

“Ask us something,” Colt requested from the foot of his bunk. Their new go-to to get him out of his head.

Finn traced the ceiling, trying to come up with some type of question that wasn’t stupid. “Dogma doesn't appear. Neither does Krell’s battalion. Who else?”

Seventeen sat near his hip while Ordo moved to sit near the wall.

“Most of the older clones if we’re being honest. They’re tired. And the Littles and tubies need to be looked after,” Colt explained. “There are some others that don’t want to be seen for certain…reasons.”

Finn frowned. “Like what?”

“Val aruetii,” Seventeen growled out. “Traitors.”

Finn shifted his head. “Of the Republic?” It sounded so strange. All the clones appeared so loyal to their Generals, willing to die for them.

“And to us,” Colt answered. “Some vode didn’t want to fight for the Republic. Felt like we were slaves, so they turned to the Separatists. Helped kill their own brothers.”

Ordo cut in. “But there are a few that…chose not to show themselves to keep from fights breaking out.”

Finn blinked. “Some of you fought during the war?”

“Stress was high. There were some misunderstandings. It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Ordo said firmly. “That’s our responsibility. Not yours.”

Seventeen started brushing back Finn’s hair, none of them commenting on the fact that tears were rolling down his temples.

…

Cody held Noah close to his chest as the ad’ika shifted uncomfortably in his lap. “Nuhoyi,” he murmured to him softly.

“Buir,” the boy whined softly, eyes still closed.

Cody shifted to cover his eyes better from the Falcon’s lights. “ I know, I know. Just try for me, love .”

Noah shuffled again until he finally settled down. Cody stretched his legs out, holding his son tight.

“I’m surprised Boba went to Mandalore,” Tup muttered as he leaned against Jesse’s shoulder. “Thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with them.”

Ponds went still at the mention of their…estranged brother. He just made his way to check on Finn with the others.

Bacara shrugged, holding his own little boy in his lap as the boy ‘dozed’. “Maybe that King has something to do with it. If he actually fell in love, it might’ve changed his mind.”

Rex snorted. “Don’t go spreading gossip. We have no idea if that’s true.” He leaned his head back on the wall. “I’m just glad one of us got out.” Fives brushed their hands together.

Charge lifted his chin to the bunk room. “How long do you think he’ll last?”

Prudii stretched out on the ground. “I’d give it two hours. Maybe.”

Rex noticed how Tup kept looking in the corners of the ships as if he’d catch a glimpse of his batchmate. He pulled Tup closer to him and Fives. Tup just allowed himself to be moved, but he didn’t look at the two of them.

“Come on,” Fives prompted carefully.

“He doesn’t want to see me. It’s fine,” Tup said, blank and uniform.

“No, it’s not because you’re upset,” Rex said to him softly.

“You still talk to your batchmates even though you lost them young,” Tup argued back, trying to keep quiet. “Fives still has the Dominoes. Yeah, I lost my batchmates young too, and they don’t want to interfere with my afterlife or whatever . But Dogma…”

Fives rested his head on Tup’s. “He was locked away for a while before everything happened, love. Decom is rough, you know this.”

Tup nodded slowly. “I know . But he doesn’t talk to anyone about it. And I don’t know how to help him.”

Comet materialized in front of them, sitting in front of Tup. Rex and Fives watched as the boy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the Wolfpack member.

“It’s not your job,” Comet advised carefully. “You’ve done all you can to let him know you’re there. Trust me, there’s nothing else you can do.”

Tup softly smiled at his partner but it was interrupted by a scream from the small bunk room.

Every clone in the room flinched at the sound. Noah hid in Cody’s chest, eyes going wide.

Truss’ boy tried to lunge out his arms, but the commander kept a tight grip on him. “Nope, the al’verdese have Finn, baby.”

The little boy continued to struggle. “But Buir, he’s screaming!”

Another scream rang out, and Solo came dashing out of the cockpit.

Tup immediately stood up, heading for the bunk room even as his squad and partner called him back softly. He stood in the small doorway, watching the scene.

Ordo and the others had backed away from the bunk with their stormy eyes. Solo shook Finn’s shoulder. “Finn, wake up!”

“Gedet’ye!” Finn screamed as he thrashed. “Ni ceta!”

Seventeen stepped forward, murmuring softly to Finn to wake him up.

Tup sat on the bed, not even bothering to avoid the general trying to wake up his brother. “Finn, wake up ,” he told him in Mando’a.

“ Finn! ” Solo shouted, pulling the young man into a sitting position.

Finn’s eyes finally snapped open, Mando’a cutting off. Tears fell from his eyes, but he didn’t even notice them, his hands gripping around Solo’s arms.

“You’re okay,” Solo said, making Tup’s head snap up to him. He was being soft with his brother. “You’re good. You’re not there.”

Finn struggled to breathe through his panic attack, something Tup wasn’t sure he knew happened to him a lot. Solo just sat with him, continuing his string of comfort. Tup held Finn’s hand as he stroked his thumb over the back of his hand.

“What’d you see?” Solo asked calmly as he leaned his head on Finn’s as he held the boy close to his side.

Finn squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t let go of Tup’s hand. Tup smiled softly.

“Too many things.”

“Happened to Luke a lot,” Solo offered, a bit awkwardly as if he was losing his confidence. “He’d wake up screaming or using the Force on the closest thing to him. Just this scrappy kid that felt lost and didn’t know what he was doing.”

Solo just looked down at Finn as he shifted slowly to hug him more. Tup let go of Finn’s hand, feeling a ping of bitterness that he couldn’t help him the way Solo could. The way a tangible person could.

“Tup’ika, let’s go ,” Seventeen whispered. Tup knew he was trying to be gentle with him.

Tup just continued to sit there.

Solo’s hand went over Finn’s back in soothing motions. “Being Force-sensitive can feel like a curse,” he whispered as Finn pressed even closer to him. “But it’s not. We’re going to help you.”

Finn sniffed, looking up at him. “You know?” He didn’t even sound surprised.

Solo chuckled. “ Yeah , I know. I’ve been living with them for more than half my life. It also explains that far-away look you get sometimes.”

Finn grimaced, tightening his grip. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Solo sighed. “No one really does, kid. We’ll do our best to save Rey.”

“I heard her screaming,” Finn admitted with a shiver.

Ordo approached Tup, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Ad’ika.”

Tup slowly stood up. He knew arguing with Ordo wouldn’t get him anywhere. He took one last look in the room before following the men out. 

Ordo kept him close to his side, and Tup couldn’t deny the man was good at hugging. It made sense seeing as the Nulls were the first. They knew how lonely Kamino was and tried their best to comfort all of them. It took all six of them a while to appear in this purgatory state after Tup died, seeing as they escaped the war with Skirata, but the others had immediately latched onto them, seeing them as safe. Tup was no different.

Wolffe narrowed his eyes as they exited the room. “Solo still with him?”

Tup just nodded.

Colt crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Old man isn’t bad with him.”

Rex pulled Tup close to him, tugging him to sit on the ground. Tup sat between his legs, leaning back against him. 

The clones just sat there, listening to the soft murmurs of Finn and Solo as they tried not to feel inferior to the man that could actually give Finn what he needed. Someone to hold onto.

…

Finn felt the slow pull of sleep begin to leave him.

“Finn,” someone whispered to him.

He still floated but tried to listen to the words.

“We’re dropping out of lightspeed soon,” the same voice told him.

He cracked his eyes open, fighting through the exhaustion. Rex crouched at the bunk, a hand inching closer.

Finn shut his eyes, not wanting to see the empty bunk beside him that was empty. Solo had slipped out a few hours ago to give him some space to sleep, so Finn waited patiently for one of the clones to come and stay with him but no one showed up. It stung a bit, but he tried to ignore it.

“I know,” Rex whispered as if reading his mind. “It’s hard to miss her. But you’ve got to get moving, bud.” Finn sent him pleading eyes that didn’t crack his facade. “Come on, up you get.”

Rex sat him up, holding his arm in a comforting grip as they walked out.

Finn flinched as a heavy pressure appeared on his leg. Glancing down, a small figure hugged his leg tightly, looking up at him with sad eyes. One of the Littles.

“Are you okay?” the little boy whispered.

Finn tried to give him a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He went to put a hand on the back of his head but he phased through. He clenched his hand into a fist.

That satisfied the little boy who turned around and just disappeared.

Rex put a hand on his back, waiting for him to do something. Finn went to say something but it didn’t come out. He clenched his jaw to fight back the tears.

Rex sighed, pressing their heads together which made his eyes close. He tried to feel him, poking around the Force. Everything slipped through his fingers as he fought through it. He didn’t quite know what the hell to look for, and he gave up. He didn’t know what he was doing.

“We’ve got you, okay? I know we’re not ideal or who you really need, but we’re never going to leave you alone. Tayli’bac?”

“Lek,” Finn whispered back. He felt the ship lurch out of lightspeed and then descend to the ground.

Rex pulled away as Solo’s footsteps approached. Finn tried to chase his touch but caught himself.

Solo gestured for him to follow down the ramp. “Come on, kid.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected the Resistance to look like, but it wasn’t this. Talking together as the mechanics worked on x-wings and u-wings. Soldiers running in formation for pt. Others running to complete their mission.

A spark of hope in the darkness of the galaxy.

BB-8 followed them down the ramp before he suddenly took off as they walked, brushing against Finn’s leg.

“BB-8!” Finn called after him.

“Where the hell is he going?” Solo muttered, staring off at the droid.

Finn’s chest caught as he rolled up to one of the x-wings, specifically the pilot. He frowned, taking a few steps forward. For sure, he was seeing things.

The pilot ripped his helmet off, revealing a smiling face and soft dark curls. Then that smile grew as he looked at the droid, dropping to his knees.

Finn watched as the man’s lips moved.

A few of the clones gasped in shock, so he knew he wasn’t seeing things. It was Poe.

Finn just got closer.

“Finn saved you?” Poe asked the droid, his words almost getting lost in all the chaos around. “Where is he?”

Poe looked up and froze as well. Finn started running.

“Poe?” he questioned.

The pilot got to his feet, taking a few steps as well. “No way.”

They both started running toward each other, ignoring everything else around them.

Finn slammed into his chest, arms winding around him tightly. His breathing came out choppy as he held onto the man. Poe’s strong arms held onto him tightly, keeping him up. Finn didn't want to let go.

Everything went quiet around his mind. Like things were settling.

“I thought you were dead,” Finn managed to get out.

One of Poe’s warm hands held the back of his head, playing with his hair softly. “So did I.”

“What happened?” he asked. Neither of them parted.

“I got thrown from the crash. Woke up at night. No you. No ship. Nothing. BB-8 said you saved him.”

Finn nodded against his shoulder. “It wasn't just me.” His voice choked up as he thought about Rey’s soft smile. “Rey, she’s from Jakku. It was all her.”

“You completed my mission, Finn.”

He shook his head. “I really didn’t,” he whispered. “I just kept going for you.”

Poe finally pulled back but the hand shifted to cradle his jaw. “You’re a good man, Finn.”

Everything came down to Finn. His choice. A freedom that had never been granted to him before. But the clones had shown him how. And he had made his choice the moment he’d taken that Jakku girl’s hand as they ran across the dunes together.

Finn stared into Poe’s dark eyes, tracing every speck of color he could. Something so calming about the action to convince himself the man was alive and well. And in his eyes, he saw nothing but calmness. Precision. Rebellion.

That final spark he needed to jump into the deep end. 

“I need your help.”

Chapter Text

Poe frowned at his words. “Of course, anything.”

Finn just took him by the hand, leading him back to a very confused Han Solo. Poe just followed along.

“This is Poe. He’s BB-8’s pilot.”

Poe nodded to the older man, a smirk coming to him. “General.”

Solo scoffed, grumbling under his breath as he led them to one of the buildings.

“Where are we?” Finn asked the pilot, staying close to his side.

“D’Qar. Has been our base of operations for a few years now. Finn, what’s wrong?” The concern poured in like a rushing waterfall.

Guess he’s more observant than I thought. He felt fuzzy that the man was worried. It was strange to have people other than ghosts by his side.

“It’s Rey. She was taken by Ren,” he whispered as if it would make it less painful. It didn’t.

Poe sighed, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry. General Organa will do everything in her power.”

Finn sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be a burden here. I know she’s on Starkiller, I just need to get there.”

Poe raised a brow. “How do you know?”

He dodged a group of pilots who gave nods to Poe as they passed. He lowered his voice. “I was stationed there before that mission on Jakku. Six months.”

He could see the scheming happening in Poe’s eyes. Trusting him could get Finn hurt, he knew that, but something told him that wouldn’t happen. He just needed to have faith.

They walked through the stone entryway together, jogging down the stairs.

Poe stepped ahead. “General Organa…”

Leia stood with a few other high ranking members of the Resistance, looking at the trio. Chewie stood close by, putting a hand on Finn’s head in greeting. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Poe said as he pointed to him. “This is Finn. He needs to talk to you.”

Leia smiled, the motherly look coming over her. “And we need to have that discussion I promised. Han told me a few things.” She nodded to her husband over Finn’s shoulder. “But renouncing the First Order and saving my pilot’s life was extremely brave. Thank you.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you, ma’am. But a friend of mine was taken prisoner.”

Leia nodded. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Finn’s familiar with the weapon that destroyed the Hosian system,” Poe interrupted. Finn side-eyed him, waiting to see where this would go. “He worked on the base.”

Not technically a lie .

“Fucking pilots,” Jesse said from somewhere in the large room. Finn fought to keep his face straight.

“We’re desperate for anything you can tell us.”

Finn nodded. “That’s where my friend was taken. I’ve got to get there fast.”

“And I will do everything I can to help but first you need to tell us all you know.”

There was no fighting with General Leia Organa he was learning. He just nodded his permission.

“Before we get to that,” Leia said, looking down at the droid at their feet. “Let’s see the package.”

C-3PO approached, speaking to BB-8 softly as the droid chirped and buzzed while opening his compartment. The gold-plated droid reached down to reach for the chip and walked to the table.

“General, I regret to inform you, but this map recovered by BB-8 is only partially complete. And even worse, it matches no charted system on record.”

Han approached his wife, standing behind her.

Finn felt Leia’s heavy grief as she stared at the holoprojection. Unable to help himself, he brushed hands with Poe. Poe returned the touch.

Craving touch hadn't been new to him for months. The clones freely gave out soft touches or head ruffles with the ease of just breathing. He became addicted to it like spice in his system, making him do anything to be on the receiving end whether it was asking a question, leaning in someone’s space, or just sending them his pitiful expression of a wounded loth cat that had them running to embrace him. Hell, he begged for it in Maz’s basement.

But with Poe the added warmth just did something. The same way Rey’s calloused hand in his made him want it to last forever.

Leia braced her hands on the bench, eyes tracing the mapped system. Finn couldn’t help but smile at the stars.

“We simply do not have enough information to locate Master Luke.”

Leia sighed. “Can’t believe I was so foolish to think I could find Luke and bring him home.”

So much sorrow was in her voice, knocking any happy emotion away from Finn. That tone should never be in her voice.

Han sighed as well, looking to the women. “Leia…”

The woman glared at her husband, surprising Finn. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what ?”

“Anything,” she responded, walking away from the table.

“Princesses,” 3PO remarked.

Han walked after his wife, both of them engaging in a tense conversation.

Finn walked carefully as BB-8 rolled around to explore before heading to a small corner that appeared to be for storage. He managed to pull a sheet off of something, revealing a white and blue astromech.

BB-8 chirped something but the other droid didn’t respond. Still. Lifeless.

Finn recognized the droid from his and Rey’s vision. He leaned further into Poe’s space, and the pilot never pushed him away.

“BB-8, you’re wasting your time,” C-3PO advised the smaller droid.  “It is very doubtful that R2 would have the rest of the map in his backup data.” BB-8 said something else. “I’m afraid not, R2-D2 has been in low-power mode ever since Master Luke went away. Sadly, he may never be his old self again.” He sounded remorseful.

Finn cleared his throat. “Do you know why Skywalker went away?”

C-3PO hesitated. “Master Luke has his reasons, some that he did not disclose to me. But he felt it was necessary.”

The galaxy seemed to disagree.

Finn slowly approached the droid, crouching in front of it.

“He was a stubborn little bastard,” Appo siad, sitting next to him.

Finn kept his eyes forward.

“Our little troublemaker. But he was a good friend.”

He brushed his fingers over R2’s blue plating. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the droid needed to hear it.

Poe leaned against a wall near him with both silent for a long pause.

“Finn,” Poe murmured. “You’re shaking.”

He was. His hands couldn’t stay steady. Rey was suffering in a cell that should’ve been his. She never would have been in this position if it wasn’t for him crashing into her life.

“We’re going to find her,” Poe promised.

“We?” Finn questioned.

The man chuckled. “Seriously? You’re stuck with me now. You’re going to wish you’d let me rot in the cell eventually. From what you’ve told me, she’s a strong girl. She can handle it for just a bit.”

Poe’s screams echoed in his mind. “What did he do to you?” he whispered, staring into his eyes.

Poe didn’t look away, never one to back down from a challenge. He sighed heavily. “No. We’re not doing that.”

Finn started to argue.

“No, Finn. You’re not going to punish yourself over this.”

“It’s my fault.” His voice trembled like a child.

The pilot dropped into a crouch on the floor with him. Poe held his nape, a warm pressure against his skin. “Stop it. This is not on you.”

“I marked her for death,” he whispered.

“People are marked for death everyday by the First Order for no rhyme or reason. You were fighting for your freedom, Finn.”

“And I’ve managed to damage a lot of things in the process,” he responded, chest filling with bitter venom.

Neither of them argued.

Poe sighed. He took a breath. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Promise you won’t spiral again until I’m back?”

Finn nodded. He watched as Poe slipped out of the base, no doubt to change out of his flight gear.

“Breathe,” came a soft whisper.

His shaking hands stilled as tanned skin wrapped around his. Tup’s gentle eyes found his.

“Just breathe, ori’vod.”

“It’s so hard.” Tears welled up in his throat as he admitted it. All he could see was her slack face as she was carried away. Was she terrified? Had she’d even seen it coming?

“I know it is. We all do.”

…

Once Poe returned, he didn’t leave Finn’s side as all the high ranking officers gathered in the room. Finn’s nerves spiked—so many people would know his secret now. But the clones never left either. He kept seeing glimpses of them in the room, telling him they were by his side.

Soon Poe was speaking, out of his flight gear. His voice commanded the room. “The scan data from Snap’s reconnaissance flight confirms Finn’s report.”

Another pilot began to speak. “They’ve somehow created a hyper-lightspeed weapon. Built within the planet itself.”

“A laser canon?” someone questioned.

“We’re not sure how to describe a weapon of this scale,” the same pilot answered, face grim.

“It’s another damn deathstar.”

Finn looked down at his feet at the comment. He used to be part of this. This plan for utter destruction. It didn’t matter to him that he’d been a child when it happened, he still followed orders like a good little soldier.

“I wish that were the case, Major,” Poe sighed as he poked around with the console. “This was the death star.”

A figure appeared in the air, hologram lines painting a very vivid and accurate depiction of the weapon system. Finn remembered learning about the weapon growing up but had never seen the plans in such detail right in front of his eyes. The clones grumbled around him.

Poe pushed another button and another figure appeared—nearly ten times the size.

“And this is Starkiller Base.”

The room went into panicked conversations, whispers spreading.

Han tossed his hands in the air. “So, it’s big.”

“You try saying that when you’re the one blowing it up,” one of the pilots snapped, a snear spreading on her face.

“We’ve destroyed two already,” Han supplied, displaying a bit of cockinees.

“Yeah, and where’s Skywalker now?” she questioned.

Solo gritted his teeth, and Finn thought he was about to explode. Even Finn felt defensive for the man he’d never met. Just from stories alone, he felt a connection to the Jedi, knowing most of them were playing with the hand they had been dealt and well, Finn supposed he had more connection to them than he thought.

Thankfully, someone interrupted. “How is it possible to power a weapon of that size?”

Poe put a hand on Finn’s back. He took a slow breath.

“It uses the power of the sun. As the weapon is charged, the sun is drained until it disappears, making everything unstable in that system,” Finn explained.

Someone pushed through the crowd carefully, approaching Leia with a data report in hand. Leia read it, slowly looking around the room.

Bad news , he guessed. He didn’t need the Force to figure that one out.

“First order, they’re charging the weapon again now. Our system is their next target.”

“Without the Republic fleet, we’re doomed.”

Another major rocked on his heels. “Do we plead to Mandalore? Maybe Coruscant?”

“Coruscant doesn’t have the fleet capacity, not since Hosnian Prime was made the capital,” a woman answered, a general or commander by the looks of her vest.

“And you can forget about Mandalore, they’ve sworn neutrality for now,” someone else answered.

Boba, Finn recalled. Or at least someone he was close with had drafted such a decree. But Finn wasn’t sure how long they would hold out.

“Okay. How do we blow it up?” Han asked. “There’s always a way to do that.”

“Han’s right,” Leia agreed.

An engineer spoke up. “In order for that amount of power to be contained, that base had to have some kind of thermal oscillator.”

Finn nodded. “There is one. Precinct 47.” He pointed it out on the schematics.

“If we can destroy that oscillator, it might destabilize the core and cripple the weapon,” the engineer hypothesized.

“Maybe the planet,” the major said.

“We’ll go in there and we’ll hit that oscillator with everything we’ve got,” Poe promised.

“They have defensive shields that our ships cannot penetrate.”

“So we disable the shields.” Han turned to him. “Kid, you worked there. What you got?”

Finn stiffened.

“We’ll help you,” Tech whispered to him. “It’s okay.”

“I can do it,” he answered confidently. “I can disable the shields, but I have to be there. On the planet.”

Rey was the most important priority. Everything else could come later.

Chewie nodded.

“We’ll get you there.” Solo had a calm look in his eyes that brought Finn some comfort. The man wouldn’t let him down.

“Han, how?” Leia asked, exasperated.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”

“So,” Poe drawled. “We disable the shields, we take out the oscillator, and we blow up their big gun.” Chewie roared, the sound echoing through the room.

Someone sighed from the back. “Just wish Skywalker was here.”

Finn just realized how heavy the loss of the Jetti was. It shifted over the room like a dark, bleak cloud.

“Jed or no Jedi, we know what we need to do,” Poe ordered.

“May the Force be with all of you,” Leia said, looking around the room.

The words did something to Finn.

“Let’s get moving.”

Everyone clamored and began to exit the building.

Finn just followed Poe toward his fighter, not sure why he was so drawn to the man.

“Your face is telling me you’re nervous,” Poe said as he messed with his ship, doing pre-checks with precision.

“Never tried to blow up an entire planet before,” Finn whispered, looking around the compound. Everyone was running and scrambling to prepare.

“You’ll do great. Even if I can’t be with you, I’ll be thinking of you.”

Finn believed him whole-heartedly. Poe reached a hand out to squeeze his arm, and he leaned into it. Poe had this soft smile that bordered on fondness. Finn pulled away after a few seconds of soaking up his warmth.

He approached Han who tinkered with a mechanism panel outside of the ship. Following the man’s nonverbal command, Finn started loading small capsules just bigger than his hand into a bag.

“Chewie, check that donal capitator,” he ordered the Wookie. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Finn glanced up at the man.

“Finn, be careful with those, they’re explosives.”

He paused, giving the man an unimpressed glare. “Now you tell me?” He cut off another insult as he saw Leia approach the ship. Unable to help himself, he eavesdropped.

“You know, no matter how much we fought, I’ve always hated watching you leave.”

Han laughed, walking toward her. “That’s why I did it—so you’d miss me.” 

The woman nodded eyes shining in the sunlight. “I did miss you.”

“Wasn’t all bad was it. Some of it was…good.”

She chuckled. “Pretty good.”

“Some things never change.” Han put his hands on her shoulders, kissing her head softly.

“True. You still drive me crazy.”

Han sighed before pulling her in for a hug, resting his hand against her head. Finn had never seen a warmer hug before, skin tingling for something like that one day. Leia whispered something that he couldn’t quite hear, and it was his sign to return to his task.

She pulled away and smiled in his direction. “Finn, can I speak to you for a moment?”

He nervously approached her. She just smiled, putting a hand on his forearm. She reached for her belt behind her and brought out something that made his eyes go wide. A lightsaber. He slowly took it, half expecting a vision to swarm his vision.

The hilt was different from Anakin’s. It had vertical grips and a longer emitter where the blade came out. It felt slightly heavier, no doubt a personal preference.

“W-Why?” he asked.

She smiled. “I have a feeling one of you might need it.”

He blinked. “Whose is it?”

Leia Organa laughed, a sound that made his bones go warm. “Now where’s the fun in that? I expect this back. I was charged with keeping it safe.”

He gripped it tighter. “I will.”

Leia pressed a gentle peck to his head. “May the Force be with you, Finn.” Her voice had a twinge of humor.

He just smiled and gave her a nod.

He sat on the Falcon as Chewie and Han were in the cockpit, staring down at both of the lightsabers. They launched into lightspeed, and Han came out to him.

Finn gave him a weak smile.

Han smirked at the lightsabers. “Haven’t seen that one in a while earlier.”

“Leia seemed very sure that we would need it.”

“She’s a smart woman.” He sat down next to Finn, knocking shoulders.

Finn waited for the hammer to fall.

“Finn…how do you know Mando’a?”

The question wasn’t one he was expecting. He snapped up, eyes going wide. “What?”

Han tilted his head to the side. “I’ve heard it slip out a couple of times. Fett would mumble it under his breath throughout the years of me knowing him. Gruff bastard.” Suspicion rose in his expression. “I thought stormtroopers were taken from their families too young to even learn native tongues.”

Had he really done it that many times? Finn fidgeted. “We were. I got bored. Started learning it.” Han knew that wasn’t the true story. His face said it all, making Finn deflate. “Please let it go,” he begged.

“Why?” Han questioned. Just curious.

Finn played with his hands. “I’m scared of what you’ll say.” He looked to Han, waiting for a reaction.

Han sighed. “Want help on how to use that thing?” He pointed to the lightsaber. Finn nodded, grateful for the distraction. Han got up from his seat, rummaging through the storage. He came back with this spherical object.

He pressed a button and it activated, hovering in the air.

Finn cocked his head, watching it float around. “What does it do?”

Han just stood there until the machine sent out a small stun beam. It hit the man on the thigh, making him hiss for a second. “Training tool. Block ‘em.”

Finn nervously activated Anakin’s lightsaber, the blue washing over the room. His eyes locked onto the small orb, growing tense in anticipation.

“Just trust yourself.”

Easier said than done.

He heard the sound of a beam about to be shot out, and he lifted the blade in response. He felt the small resistance of the bolt hitting the lightsaber.

He stood there for twenty minutes, blocking shots with more ease the more he did it. Han had a proud look on his face.

“Well, you learned faster than Luke.”

FInn snorted. “Highly doubt it.”

“No, seriously. The kid could be so damn stubborn.” Han turned the droid off. “I swear Kenobi was going to throw something at him in this very room for getting hit so many times.”

“His master?” Finn questioned. Cody’s general. His Jetti.

Solo nodded. “Yep. Old man wasn’t too bad. But he cared about Luke, even in death.”

He frowned, propping his chin on his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Luke is powerful with the Force,” Solo explained. “It can be freaky at some points. But he could see spirits. Ghost of other Jedi. They guided him, but Kenobi was at the forefront.”

Finn straightened up. “Ghosts.”

Han snorted. “Yeah. Ghosts. He could only speak to them, but it was definitely them.”

Skywalker was similar to him, but Finn was still different. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“Honestly, I’m glad Luke was gifted with that privilege,” Han whispered, staring off to the walls. “Losing Kenobi was hard, especially right in front of him. He blamed himself for so long.”

Finn read that tone, having been on the receiving end so many times. “You care for him. A lot.” Just the mere mention of the Jedi had Han pausing or staring off into the distance.

“I do. Like my own.” He leaned back against the bench. “At first, he was just a punk kid. I was trying to get out of my life as soon as possible. But the fucker wormed his way into my heart too quick…then I ended up marrying his sister, so I’m stuck with him.”

Finn blinked. “Wait…Leia? But…” His heart felt like it got crushed. He could only guess the anguish Leia and Luke went through in their lives.

“They’re twins, actually.” The man laughed. “They were separated at birth, but they both had rebellion in their blood. Alderan was destroyed, killing Leia’s family. She’d already been working with her father on Rebel business but that was the final straw. Luke had always wanted to be a pilot and the Rebellion gave him that option—the added bonus was shooting down Imperial ships and being the biggest pain in their ass.”

Then his eyes settled on the captain that stood just a few feet away, tears in his eyes. He tried to keep his face neutral, but he wished he would have hugged the man close to him.

“You said no more secrets,” Rex rasped. He jerked his head to the General. “Ask him about their parents.”

Finn looked back to Solo, words getting stuck in his chest. Solo just waited with a small smile. “What about their biological parents?”

Han sighed. “They don’t know the full story, and I don’t think they ever will. But their father was Anakin Skywalker. He was a General of the Republic during the clone wars. Everyone thought he was killed during that purge of the Jedi, but it was a lot worse.” He put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. He fell to the darkside, aligning with Chancellor Palpatine.”

Finn’s blood went cold. It made sense—the amount of sadness and grief that clones exhibited when the man was mentioned. It almost seemed too far-fetched. Anything he’d heard about the man had been nothing but praise. “Shit.”

Solo laughed softly, but he could see the pain in him. “Yeah, shit. Luke tried so hard to bring him back to the light. He almost failed, but in the end he did. He defeated Darth Vader by still believing that Anakin Skywalker lived inside of him. Vader died on the second death star. I don’t think Luke ever really got over that either.”

Finn brushed a tear away. “Do you think we’ll be able to find him?”

Solo went still like a statue. Finn got nervous.

“Luke’s stubborn. If he doesn't want to be found, he won’t be. He’s punishing himself for the evil of the galaxy which is ridiculous, but I can’t change anything about it.” Solo looked at him, eyes wandering his frame. “But something tells me that you and Rey are the key to finding him.”

Finn frowned. “I’m just a stormtrooper.” Solo lifted his chin, cutting off anything else. Finn just leaned into it against his better judgement.

“You’re more than that. You know that, Finn. I think you’re more powerful and knowledgeable than you let on, but that's your business. I don’t have the Force, Finn. I can’t help Luke the way a Jedi can.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Finn asked. “How can we bring him back to the galaxy when we don’t even know him? What can we do better that you or Leia can't?”

Han smiled softly. “Show him that the next generation needs him.” He patted him on the back and got to his feet, abruptly ending the conversation like he always did. Finn just watched him go.

A hand pressed onto his shoulder. He tipped toward the person, accepting their hug. 

“Finn, we need to talk about how we’re going to—”

“I’m getting Rey first,” Finn cut through Jaing’s words. “I don’t care about the Resistance. She’s all I care about right now.”

They wanted to argue. He saw it in their eyes and the tension in their bodies. But they weren’t going to break their one rule. Their rule is that Finn called all the shots. No matter how stupid, idiotic, or fearful his choices made them, they couldn’t tell him no.

“Okay, kih’vod,” Ponds said slowly. “We’ll help you save Rey. You ready for this?”

Finn forced his mind to remember how Starkiller was laid out. The winding, stark hallways. The dark corridors of the lower levels. Ren's personal torture chamber where he saved Poe from. That’s where she’d be.

The heavy but somehow quiet footsteps of Chewie approached him. He gave the Wookie a weak smile as he sat on the bench next to Finn. He grumbled a few times.

“I’m fine,” Finn replied, beginning to learn his language of grunts, growls, and croons. Chewie gave him a sharp glare, huffing heavily. His jaw dropped, looking up at the creature with indignation. “I am being honest, Chewie. I’m fine.”

Chewie just grumbled before wrapping an arm around him. Finn leaned on him, practically laying down in his arms. He didn’t say anything else.

Eventually, they journeyed back to the cockpit. Finn rested his hands on the back of Han’s seat.

“The shields have a fractional refresh rate,” Finn said. “It keeps anything flying faster than lightspeed from getting through.” His words slowed down when he saw the smirk spreading on Han’s face. “We’re landing at lightspeed…aren’t we?”

Han turned in his seat, his teeth showing. “It’ll be fun.”

“Ay,” someone groaned.

“Di’kut.”

“Fucking should slap Skywalker to his last name at this point.”

“Chewie, get ready,” Han ordered, hands hovering over the controls.

Finn tightened his grip on the seat, fingers going shaky. Someone’s hands pushed him to the empty seat, and he sat down.

“Now,” Han murmured.

They dumped out of lightspeed, a field of white and grey stole Finn’s vision. He knew they needed to pull up immediately and fast.

Chewie looked at the pilot and growled.

“I am pulling up!”

Finn closed his eyes. His body jerked as they entered a forest, the trees smacking against the viewport.

“If I get any higher, they’ll see us!” Han answered to Chewie’s second protest.

They crashed into snow banks, sliding across the mountain side. Finn’s heart lurched as they almost tipped over the edge.

Han exhaled slowly. “Not the worst landing.”

Finn groaned. “I don’t want to fly with you ever again.” Han hit him lightly on the back of the head.

Chewie pressed a blaster rifle into his hands which he accepted. Finn snagged Luke’s lightsaber, attaching it to his belt. He left the second blade on the table, unsure if he would live to regret his decision or not.

They walked down the hatch and a chill settled over Finn. He shivered as the cold set in. Before he deserted, he hadn’t seen much snow on the planet. That voice in the back of his head told him to run and never look back. Snow fell on top of his head in graceful flakes.

They stepped through the tall snow, keeping a sharp gaze on their surroundings. They found cover of the communication and signal towers scattered around.

“The flooding tunnel is over that ridge. We’ll get in that way.”

Han nodded.  “What was your job when you were based here?”

Finn turned his head away. “Patrol.”

He winced as his back was slammed into the concentrate pillar, a hiss coming from him. Echoes of Mando’a insults flew from the clones.

“Patrol?” Han demanded. “That’s it?

Chewie gave a single grunt.

“Then how do you know how to disable the shields?”

Panic set in. He saw the clones form the corner of his eye. Did he admit to their presence? Or continue down his path of never ending lies? He was taking too long. “I don’t. Not really. Sure, I could figure it out once I’m looking at it. But only once Rey is safe.”

Han’s face twisted into frustration. “People are counting on us. The galaxy is counting on us.”

“Yeah,” Finn laughed, “and the galaxy hasn’t done shit for me. I told you—I’m not a hero. I don’t know how to live in a normal damn society because this is all I’ve known.” He pointed to the large base just a klick away. “And no one came to save me or the thousands of other children taken to be exploited. Because that’s just how it is. So I’m saving Rey so she doesn’t suffer any longer in there. And if I have to take the shields down with the fucking Force or some bullshit, I’ll do it. We’ll figure something out.”

“That’s not how the Force works,” Han said slowly.

Maybe not anything you’ve seen . Because he wouldn’t be doing anything except following Tech and Echo’s instructions, who were no doubt already scouting ahead.

“We should move,” Finn recommended as he looked into the distance. “It shouldn’t be much longer until it’s charged.” He could see the beams of sun being dragged into the atmosphere and into the base.

They ran through the hills of snow, and Finn heard the voice rumbling in his head from the dream. The falling flakes had brought him back.

They reached the tunnel and climbed through it until the first maintenance hatch. Chewie shot at it, the sound banging around the tunnel until Finn’s ears rang.

Han slipped an ear piece into his hand. Finn took it.

They made their way through the hatch of the lower levels. Silently, they headed to one of the elevators.

“Where would the shields be?” Han asked.

Finn waited. None of the clones answered. Fuck. Shit. Thankfully he didn’t have to answer because the door opened.

A stormtrooper stood on the other side, snapping up straighter. Chewie fired without hesitation.

“The longer we’re here, the worse our chances are. Finn?” Han questioned, brow furrowing in the ‘don’t test me, son’ look.

“Follow me,” Finn said, recognizing the area. Rey came first.

They had to dodge multiple patrols and squads, not breathing until they passed. Then Finn paused, his senses washing away.

Han put a hand on his chest. “Finn? Finn, what’s wrong?” It was just a whisper.

A fork was in front of them. Right or left. It was a maze and if he chose the wrong one, there's a chance they’d miss finding Rey.

“Try the maintenance level,” Finn told Chewie and Han. “But promise me that you’ll leave if it gets too dangerous.”

Chewie shook his head, trying to step toward him. Finn darted out of his grasp.

“Promise me?” he asked again.

Han gave a shaky sigh. “Yeah, kid…only if you get the hell out of there as soon as possible.”

Finn nodded. He watched the two of them flee down the hall.

Rey. He needed to find Rey. But where the hell were the clones?

…

Vaughn, Keeli, and Howzer walked through Starkiller’s halls, desperately looking for Rey. The clones had broken away from Finn against their better judgment once the ship landed. And Rey had been missing from the integration rooms. Every single one was empty.

“Ren’s on a warpath,” Howzer said, having just found them looking for the girl. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Keeli cursed. “Fuck. Not good. We need to stay the hell away from them.”

They turned the corner and ran into Ghost company.

“Anything?” Waxer asked nervously, worried about Rey and Finn’s whereabouts.

The three of them shook their heads.

They continued to clear different sectors before finding more and more of their brothers. No one had seen anything. The Nulls, Alphas, even other tactical groups. Nothing.

They all paused, a large group of about fifty of them in one large hallway.

“Where the hell do we even look now?” Hardcase questioned.

Mumbles and grumbles went around with nothing being produced.

Then Tup and Comet ran down the hall. They came to a sharp stop, not expecting to find so many of them in one go.

“What is it?” Maze asked, adopting a softer tone to the ad’ike.

Tup shuffled his feet, debating with himself. Debating with his loyalty being split between brothers.

“Comet,” Boost barked out. “Now.”

The teen just looked at his boyfriend.

Seventeen stepped toward them. “ Little one, now,” he growled in his commanding tone. “ Before I rat you out to your squad.”

Tup sighed, looking up to the ceiling. Everyone just waited with baited breath. They were running out of time but Tup had gained Finn’s trust the quickest, and he wasn’t about to rat Finn out to all of them.

“I ran into Finn,” Tup said. “He separated from Solo and Chewie. They’re heading back down to the maintenance level. He’s heading to the holding cells.”

Prud’ii growled. “Fucking of course.”

“That boy,” Darman muttered. “We need to find Rey and get them all the hell out of here. Shields be damned.”

Wooley fiddled with his vembrace. “And when the weapon charges again?” Cody put a hand on his shoulder.

No one had an answer.

“We’re just going to damn the rest of the galaxy?” he continued quietly.

The galaxy hadn’t been fair to them. Senators constantly saw them as expendable or pieces of property. GAR admirals never hesitated to lay a hand on them for a minor inconvenience or just because they wanted to. They’d known nothing but war and battles, and most of them never got a chance to live.

“No,” Ordo sighed. “We’re not. If we can’t get the shields down, the least we can do is help Solo bomb the place to give the Resistance more time when the weapon is down.”

From the depths of the hall, shouting came but it was too far away to gain any information. All of them raced down the hall, coming across Cutup. He blinked at all of them.

“Wow. Having a party without us, ay?”

Wolffe pinched his brow. “The point, Cutup. Get to the point.”

“We found Rey,” he said, directing them down more hallways. “She just popped out of service hatch.”

Tup frowned. “How’d she get out? Ren wouldn’t leave her without guards.”

“No clue. Come on.”

Well, they all had theories but they couldn’t prove anything.

They found her, poking around the corner. Her hands shook around the blaster, on high alert. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.

“Poor thing’s terrified,” Coric clicked his tongue.

“Keep your medic instincts on the back burner.”

Maze put his hands on his hips. “Now how are we supposed to lead her to Finn? By the time we tell him, we’ll lose her.”

Ordo stepped forward, getting in her path. She just walked through him, making him wince. It felt like his insides were shaken. He gritted his teeth. He moved to get in front of her, his brothers trailing after them.

“Come on, kid,” he whispered. “See me.”

Rey paused, looking around with wide eyes.

“Come on, Rey,” Ordo coached. “You know someone’s here. See us .”

Rey looked back at him. No recognition for fear crossed over her, but contemplation came. Slowly, she reached a hand out in front of her.

Ordo brushed his fingers against her. He phased through, but her breathing changed.

“Good girl,” he said. “Use your damn Force magic and follow me.”

He started walking. Rey bit her lip, looking around, but then she followed after him. Her brow pulled and twisted like she couldn't believe she was doing this.

“The hell?” she whispered.

Ordo took one look at his brothers, and they all scattered.

…

“Solo, anything?” Finn said through comms.

“ Nothing. Kid, this isn’t looking good.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Just…give me a minute to think.”

He really needed the clones right now.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered into the air. “Please, tell me what to do?”

His skin prickled like needles. His senses went out again, a feeling of pure nothing washing over him. He just waited.

Left. He went to the left.

And he nearly sobbed when he saw Ordo and Rey approaching him.

He locked eyes with his friend. She dropped the blaster with a soft cry, running to him. He dropped his own and pulled her into his arms. She clutched onto him, burying her face into his shoulder.

Finn looked to Ordo. The man just cupped the side of his face, thumb trailing over his temple. Permission to fall apart for just a minute.

Finn pulled her back after a minute to calm himself. “What? How did you get out?”

She trembled with terror. “I did something,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I did something , and I don’t know how it happened. And now something lead me to you?”

The Force. It was the only explanation.

“Okay,” he said. “Han and Chewie are here.”

Rey relaxed against him.

Finn wanted to cry at the sight of Tech and Echo walking toward him. They’d tell him what to do. “Solo, you listening?”

He repeated what the two Batchers told him. Solo and Chewie would set charges to the stabilizers. It wouldn’t completely cripple the weapon but it would be a pain in their ass. Take them out of commission for a couple of weeks at the least. Just to spare some time for the Resistance.

“We’re heading to you.”

Hand in hand, the two of them made their way down the halls. Rey reclaimed her blaster, and Finn kept his hand near the saber on his belt.

“Finn, incoming!” someone warned.

The sound of boots thundering had them flinching.

“Haar’chak,” he muttered. He was running out of time. Always running out of time.

They weren’t all going to make it. He was beginning to realize that. They weren’t going to disable the weapon, not today, unless Han and Chewie had pulled off a miracle. But the Resistance would need another general to lead them. And Rey could be the jedi they needed. That spark of hope. It wasn’t him. The clones wouldn’t forgive him for this.

But his decision had been made. He flicked the lightsaber off his belt and pressed it into Rey’s hand. His commlink quickly followed.

She paused, hands trembling around the weapon that had once terrified her. “W-What are you doing?”

Finn took in a shuddering breath. “You need to go. Now.”

“No!” she screamed. “I’m not going to leave you!” He hated the tears that went down her face. Tears that he had caused.

“Rey, please,” he begged, pressing their heads together. Her warm skin started growing cold with her anxiety. He could feel the ways of terror coming from her. A connection forming between them.

“You don’t just get to decide to leave again! They’ll kill you!” she cried, fingers grasping at the leather of his jacket.

Finn grabbed her hands. To his right was the command pad for the blast door. He pressed his head against her’s, feeling Rey shaking in his hold. He didn't want to do this.

“Finn, don’t you dare,” Boil snapped.

He shifted his feet.

“Finn, I swear if you even think about it.” Someone else warned.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered to her. To the clones. And he truly was.

Rey let out another sob.

With surprising strength given his emotional turmoil, he pushed Rey away from him, enough to send her stumbling multiple steps.

Her hurt eyes were the last thing he saw before he slammed his hand down on the command pad. And Rey screamed .

Finn sobbed softly at the sound, knees feeling weak. He could hear her pleading and begging on the other side of the thick metal. He jammed the door before ripping open the panel to tug the wires out.

“Finn, stop it.”

Hands turned him around, cupping his face. Rex’s stern eyes stared into him, and the rest of the vode stood close by.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Rex asked breathlessly.

“Saving them,” he whispered.

The stormtroopers were just getting closer.

“Ad’ika, listen to me—”

“I’ve listened before,” he said to the captain calmly. “I’m not changing my mind.”

The clones started an uproar.

“Why the fuck are we just standing here?!” Wolffe demanded.

Crosshair marched toward them. “You can throw a tantrum all you fucking want, but we are moving.” His hand reached out.

Finn stepped out of his reach, further into Rex. Rex held him tighter, like he’d seen him do to Tup. Like he was something precious.

“ Rex ,” Howzer insisted.

Cody sighed. “He can’t stay here.”

Rex just kept his eyes on Finn. Finn focused, feeling the man become more real under his hands. He held tightly onto his forearm.

Echo approached his captain. “Rex…they’ll torture him.” His body seemed to flicker, and Finn caught a hint of a metal arm and legs before he stabilized.

“This is ridiculous! Drag him out of here!” Fordo yelled.

Rex just closed his eyes. Finn looked at him, waiting for what he would decide. He was at their mercy.

“We’re not dragging him out of here,” the captain said, cutting through all the noise. And not a single one of them argued but their faces showed their turmoil.

Finn flinched as he heard stormtroopers giving orders just a couple hallways over. His time was up. Just a few days of freedom. But it was enough for a lifetime.

“You need to go,” he whispered to them. To his salvation.

“Not happening.”

“Gedet’ye,” Finn begged. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Ren or his Knights saw the clones. It would blow everything up.

They wouldn’t agree. Finn needed to do something. He closed his eyes, focusing on that feeling—that connection—to the clones. He felt it wrap around his hands, warmth spreading through him. A golden light through the darkness.

“Vor entye.”

And he took the golden threads and snapped it. Just for now.

Rex’s arms disappeared.

He opened his eyes to an empty hallway. His knees nearly buckled with a sob at the sight. He could still feel them, in the distance, which was fine with him for now. It took all his concentration to keep it that way, to keep the threads from reattaching.

A gleam of metal blinded him.

“FN-2187,” Phasma’s cold voice came through her vocoder. “Surprised to see you.”

Finn lifted his chin. “Fuck you.”

“Apprehend him.”

Troopers swarmed him, blasters raised. He struggled as they wrenched his arms behind his back and cuffed him. He just stared into Phasma’s t-visor.

“Take him to Ren.”

Finn closed his eyes as he walked. He couldn’t feel his hands. Couldn’t feel any air coming into his lungs. A lightsaber would soon sever his head from his body.

They marched him through the halls.

Instead of leading him to the bridge for a public execution, they lead him to the integration wing. They slammed him down into the restraints, the metal bindings wrapping around his wrists and ankles. 

He wished the ceiling would come down to crush him.

A droid came in, a familiar sight in its hand. A hypo of drugs.

Finn tried to move out its grasp, soft pleas coming from him, but he barely budged. The needle pierced the skin of his neck.

As his vision started to swim, he fought to stay awake. And then a large shockwave went through the whole base.

Rey had gotten to Han and Chewie. They’d set off the explosion to make their escape. They’d live to fight another day even if their mission had failed.

Finn could finally close his eyes.

Chapter Text

Rey sat on her bunk in the Falcon, numb to the bone. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the ground, rocking as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. Han’s footsteps approached her, but she didn’t look up.

“Kid…”

“Don’t,” she snapped, wiping her tears away. Her jaw set.

She couldn’t get Finn’s face out of her mind. The calculations going on behind his eyes right before he shoved her away. She should’ve known better.

“Kid, there was nothing we could do. He knew that we needed a distraction.” Han’s hands clapped down to his sides.

“So it had to be him ?” she asked.

Han sat down next to her, the weight shifting the bunk. He looked so tired. Rey bit her tongue.

“Trust me, if I knew what the little shit had been thinking, I never would’ve let him out of my sight. But here we are.”

Rey let a soft cry out. Her body still shook with adrenaline and fear from her time in the cells.

“You’re worried,” Han observed quietly. “About what they’ll do to him.”

Rey nodded. Having Ren pick apart her mind had hurt. Felt violated. Even if she fought back, she could still feel him in her mind and soul. What she had done…truly terrified her. And that presence she felt in the hallway that somehow managed to lead her to Finn sounded too strange to be true.

“Rey…”

A hand passed over her hair. It was a strange sensation.

“I know first hand about how shitty the Force can feel when it’s used against you. So if you want to talk about it…I’m here.”

Rey broke with a sob, tipping right into his arms. She felt him stiffen before holding her close. His shoulders were steady as she cried into him. Han ran a hand down her back, and she realized that this is what love felt like.

An hour later, they landed on D’Qar, and Han stood her up. Chewie babbled to her softly in the common area as he brought her into a warm hug as well. Her fingers dug into his fur for just a minute.

D’Qar was beautiful. She took just a few steps off the ramp and could see that. The stone temples in the distance and in front of her. The endless blue sky and green forests.

Han walked in front of her, and Chewie put an arm over her shoulders. Rey welcomed the anchoring touch. Normally, that was Finn’s job, but he wasn't there, leaving her side bare and cold.

Resistance soldiers walked around, running to their next destination. Except for one in flight gear approaching them with wide eyes. He was handsome even with the amount of terror in his body.

“Where is he?” he asked Han, standing across from him.

Rey could only guess who he was referring to. She bit her lip.

Han didn’t answer, hands going to his hips. 

“Where’s Finn?” the pilot nearly yelled, breaking down by the second.

Han just shook his head slowly, watching the pilot carefully.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

“Where’s Leia?” Han asked instead.

The pilot shoved his chest, and Han just let him. “No! What happened?! Where is he?!”

Rey just started crying. There was nothing left for her to do. All the shouting stopped around her.

The pilot finally looked at her, so many emotions crossing his face. “Rey?” his voice broke on her name.

She nodded, confused as to how he knew her name, and he pulled her into a strong hug. She clutched back on his flight suit. Neither of them moved until Han and Chewie ushered them into a temple.

Finn jerked awake. He gasped as sharp pain appeared in his wrists. Craning as hard as he could, they wouldn’t budge. He could barely see, his eyelids so heavy. The room he was in was bright as hell, stinging his retinas, except for what he was laying on.

A table.

His heart dropped to the slab of metal beneath him.

The interrogation sector.

His trapped wrists ached in the restraints. No amount of leverage would get him free of the metal. Then he flinched as he caught sight of a figure in the room. They wore a mask on their face, blocking Finn from seeing anything close to an expression.

One of Ren’s Knights. Just silently staring at him.

Finn swallowed nervously. Sweat started gathering on the back of his neck. The Knight didn’t do anything, just watching him.

“What are you going to do?” he whispered, not sure if he even wanted an answer.

The air in the room changed. They stood up, robes rustling slightly.

It was Ushar, he realized. Ren’s preferred interrogator other than himself.

“Find out where the map is,” his voice cracked over the helmet’s comm. “We can make this easy if you just tell me where.”

Finn’s scrambled mind tried to come up with a response. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth. Whatever drugs they gave him made him worry about slipping up. He dropped his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“You’re a traitor.”

For some reason it cut deep. Like guilt clawed at his heart, wanting to shred him open and expose him.

Finn shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“The Resistance won’t keep you around.” Ushar’s boots thudded on the floor as he stalked closer like a predator. “They’ll toss you out like the trash you are.”

He could picture Leia’s face twisted in anger, ordering him to leave the compound and never return. So cold compared to the soft woman he’d met just a day ago, and he wanted to feel the warmth from her stare once again.

Then it was Poe screaming in his face. Calling him a monster. How he prayed that the crash had taken Finn’s life.

But the worse was the image of Rey’s indifferent eyes staring into his soul as she turned her back to him. Leaving him behind.

No .

His emotions were being twisted like a doll on strings. His greatest fears, some he didn’t even know he had, surfacing like dark water in his lungs.

“You’re in my head,” Finn rasped.

Ushar’s chuckle was unsettling. He leaned forward with a cock to his head. “Not quite. You’re strong, I’ll give you that. Phasma taught you well.”

He barred his teeth, leaning forward in his restraints. “Phasma didn’t teach me shit.”

A hand smacking him across his face cracked his neck to the side. Blood pooled his mouth, forcing him to spit it to the floor.

“Taught you to take a hit.”

Finn glared at him as the Knight circled around him. He wanted to do nothing more but slam him into the wall and rip that mask off. Make him suffer like him and his squad had done to the galaxy.

“Why not just break into my head,” Finn challenged, “instead of fucking with me? Just get it over with.”

Another laugh sent shivers down his spine. “I prefer to play.”

Finn smirked. “That’s not an answer,” he whispered. “You can’t.”

His shoulders went tight. Finn barely had time to blink before a fist slammed into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. He twisted on the bench, gasping for air.

Fuck, that hurt.

A stab of the needle had him relaxing. He’d take the drugs over a beating.

…

A headache pounded behind his eyes when he opened them again. His stomach felt twisted and felt like he was going to be sick. His ribs ached. 

“Finn, open your eyes, love.”

That voice wasn’t supposed to be here. He risked feeling for the connection. That cord, that lifeline that led to the clones through the Force was back intact. Such a quick thing considering how horrible his actions were to get them away. He’d never forget that cracking feeling inside of his chest for as long as he lived.

He started panicking when he opened his eyes.

“No no no.” He winced as his wrists grinded against the metal. Empty clangs bounced off the walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He needed to get them away. But it would kill him. “I don’t need you,” he snapped at Mereel, who was the closest to him. He looked at the rest of them around the room. “You can’t do shit as ghosts.”

A hand pet through his hair, knocking all the fight out of him. Finn went limp. He was so tired of fighting.

“Doesn’t work on us, ad’ika,” Seventeen warned. “I suggest you don’t say shit like that.”

Finn kept his eyes shut as the soothing touch calmed his aching nerves. All of this was shit. Another “Did they get out?”

Wooley nodded, holding into his hand through the bindings. “They did. They hated it, but they left.”

It would’ve been better if it had been an easy decision for them. Guilt ate away at him, along with that small seed of doubt. Did Han and the others really care about him?

“You didn’t go with them,” he rasped out. “I cut the connection. That was your chance.”

Niner frowned like Finn had spoken a different language. “When are you going to learn that we’re not just going to abandon you? That you actually matter to us?”

Finn swallowed against the tears. “If I mattered, then you would leave .”

A hand gripped his jaw, turning his head to the other side. A possessive grip commanding Finn’s attention.

Crosshair’s sharp eyes dug into him. “Stop it. Right fucking now. You pushing this subject is only going to piss us off more and make us stay.”

Right now, being treated as a child didn’t irritate him as much. He didn’t know what to do. He needed them to take control.

“Finn,” Crosshair got his attention again, “you’re in an interrogation room. You’ve been drugged. By the end of this, you might be begging for death, and we’re not going to allow you to think that. You’re right—there’s nothing we can physically do. But we can keep your soul alive in this hellhole.”

Finn’s heart stopped when footsteps pounded towards his door. The clones disappeared from view. He wanted them back. Really wanted them back. He was just scared of what Ren could do within the Force. Finn knew nothing about his abilities, and the Sith had years of experience. And so did his Knights. 

He was expecting Ushar to return, but instead, Phasma appeared in his cell.

“Hello, my disappointment.”

He went unbothered by her sneer. His days of trying to gain her approval were over. She was nothing but a monster in his eyes. The same went for the rest of the personnel in base. For taking away all those children’s choice in the matter. Children like him.

Finn’s throat cramped as he twisted the words in his mouth. “You barely know me.”

“I knew you had potential, FN-2187.”

“Finn,” he snapped to the ceiling before staring her dead in the visor. “My name is Finn.” He had pride for his name

Phasma cocked her head. “You don’t have a name. You never have.”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “Crazy how things change when you desert an army that never treated you like a human.”

A laugh went through her. She walked closer to him, peering down at him. There were no weapons on her, not anything he could try to grab with the Force. If he could even try to concentrate that much, she could catch him.

Her finger tapped the headrest. He almost flinched.

“If you’re human, you will break. Something you’ve done all your life.”

Finn turned his head away, glaring at the wall. All of this was just a mind game—a First Order tactic he knew well.

“Sooner or later, we’ll find out where your little friends are.” He could hear the shift of her armor as she leaned closer. “And I will make you watch as I slit them open.”

Phasma walked out after her delivery, leaving him in silence.

Finn counted in his head. It only took the clones two hundred thirty one seconds to come back to him, deeming it safe enough. The dominos just missing their twins. Just standing around the table, they kept a point of contact with him. 

“Did we ever tell you about our shitty graduation story?” Droidbait asked Finn with a soft smile. 

“What are you doing?” he dared to ask.

Heavy rolled his eyes. “Distracting you, little one. So you don’t get stuck in your head while you’re here. It’s the only thing we can do.”

So Finn just listened to them discuss their lives on Kamino. Considering some of the whispers he heard, he was surprised they didn’t have more hatred for their home world. Sure, they were angry with the bounty hunters that trained them, but they still missed Kamino. Finn couldn’t understand why.

It sounded cold. Isolating. Filled with scientists that cared about their product rather than the boys in their halls. Jango, for all his faults, still had a semblance of protection for the early generations.

His eyes started getting heavy. “Why’s your name Droidbait?”

The two clones chuckled at their brother. Droidbait just had a soft smile.

“I’d always get shot in training. I became the bait in some situations…most of them not on purpose. It’s fitting that it’s how I died.”

Finn flinched. They talked about their deaths so meaningless sometimes, just jumping over the horror behind it.

Heavy clocked his brother in the shoulder. “Idiot. You know how he feels about that.”

Droidbait winced, smoothing a thumb over Finn’s palm. “Sorry, bud.”

“How?” Finn whispered.

The three of them shared a look.

Cutup scratched the back of his neck, his brothers mirroring his position. “Finn, that’s not a good idea.”

Heavy leaned forward, his jaw twitching. “The only reason they let us talk to you is we promised to not upset you.”

“I asked,” Finn murmured, feeling chastised and more emotional about it than he should have. It had to be the mix of exhaustion and drugs.

“We were on Rishi, a small moon in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Cutup spoke softly, looking off to the side, recalling deep buried memories. “It was a communication outpost for Kamino. Felt boring to us in the beginning.”

Heavy sighed, obviously not happy with the conversation, but he continued. “We were attacked. The Separatist shiny, new commando droids were sent to the outpost. There were maybe ten of us there.”

Droidbait had a weak smile. “I was the first one down I think. Nub and I were sent out to track down a missing deck officer. Went black after that for a while.”

Finn latched onto his every word.

“I woke up looking down at my dead body. Not a fun experience. I just…stood there for a long time, waiting to pass into Manda, but it never came. Freaked out for a while.”

Finn glanced at the others.

Cutup shivered. “The four of us managed to get out of the base. Then the fucking eels came out.” That was all he said on the matter.

Finn tried to squeeze his hand, but he went right through. Again. He fucking hated this, watching them break down not be able to do anything.

“Rex and Cody came by to do their fancy base checks. They knew something was wrong immediately. We met up with them and planned to blow up the base, but the detonator went to shit. I had to manually fire it.”

Finn settled his head back, squeezing his eyes closed.

“We left Fives and Echo as the last two dominoes standing. Just like everyone thought,” Droidbait murmured. “We followed them from that point on, seeing other clones like us. Just wandering souls not knowing what the hell was going on.”

Cutup sniffed, blinking with a frown on his face. “So many questions went around between the ghosts. So much confusion. And we didn’t get anywhere, not even close. Most of us just wanted to figure everything out and get the hell into the afterlife, so we didn’t have to keep seeing our brothers die.”

Finn thought it over. For months, they seemed so well put together about their situation. Just sitting idly by as they waited for the final pieces to fall into place. “What changed?”

Droidbait slowly reached for him, cupping his cheek with his thumb swiping through the dry tear tracks that had escaped him. “You,” his voice broke on the single word. “You changed everything, verd’ika.”

They had to leave him. All of them could feel the evil approaching the interrogation sector.

Droidbait and Cutup left, and Finn felt even colder.

Heavy’s warm brown eyes watched him for another moment before leaning close to him.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod,” the man whispered to him.

Finn couldn’t even try to begin comprehending and deciphering the words before he was screaming as Ushar unleashed his wraith.

…

His throat cramped as he swallowed, dry and raw. Finn swore his vocal cords had ripped in half from the torture he put them through.

The Knight had gotten creative. Shock probes. At least it wasn’t his Force abilities again. Once they came into play, Finn was a dead man.

He’d detect Finn’s Force Sensitivity. Kylo Ren would have his way with him, ripping through his mind piece by piece and leaving nothing behind but a husk of a body. Then Finn’s body would be thrown over the edge to be forgotten about by the galaxy.

Finn whined softly as Cut came into view. He went to ask how long it had been but nothing came from his mouth.

The man winced, stroking FInn’s temple with a fatherly touch. “Don’t try to talk, alright? I know a few signs.”

Finn did his best with the bindings. “ How long ?”

Cut sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Eight hours. Ushar’s pissed you haven’t broken like they were expecting.” He perched himself on the edge of the table the best he could. “Just keep breathing, Finn. You’ll make it through this.”

Finn had always wondered why the clone had civvies on, a very uncommon theme among his ghosts. Ninety percent of them had their armor, paint and color proud on the stark white plastoid. But not Cut. He had nothing else to pass the theme except for his curiosity. 

“ You left? ” he finger signed, fighting to form the right characters with his fingers.

Cut mulled over it before recognition came through. “I deserted. Yes.”

Finn asked the next questions with his eyes.

Cut bit as his inner cheek. “I’m an early generation. My first battle was Geinosis. Start of the war. Our transport was shot down, and I was the only survivor by the end of forty-eight hours.”

Finn fought in his cuffs, wanting out of them. Cut just held his left hand in his.

“I loved my brothers. I still do.” Cut’s voice held no lies. “I was terrified. And terror makes you do crazy things, kih’vod. But I was just a number to the Republic. Just another tally in the casualties that they had no care for. Disposable. We were taught that as soon as we could understand words.”

“Where?” Finn rasped out, cringing at his own sound.

“Shhhhh,” Cut hushed him, thumb stroking his collarbone. “I found myself on Saleucami. It’s where I met my wife and her two children. I married her and adopted my kids.”

Finn had heard such emotions in very few of the clones. Absolute, unconditional love. Love for a child.

“And I have no regrets. I got to raise my children. I learned what it meant to be a husband, a father, a provider.” Cut squeezed his hand, making sure Finn’s attention was on him alone. “Finn, don’t make war your life. I know I’m alone in that opinion, and that’s okay. You are in charge of your future. But don’t forget that there’s more to life than fighting and moving onto another battle.”

Finn appreciated the sentiment, but it would go to waste. He’d never learn what all those things meant to him. Never hold his own baby or toddler and watch them find their way in life. Never grow old with someone.

“Don’t cry,” the man whispered to him. Finn blinked to clear the tears. “Don’t lose it now. You’ve been so damn strong, just have to hold on a bit longer. Because you are getting out of here. Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod. Understood, little soldier? ”

Finn nodded. “Lek.”

Cut heard the lie in his voice by the way agony rippled across his features before he fixed himself. Finn hated to disappoint them, but he didn’t know what else to say.

…

Finn could feel the small streams of blood drying on his fingers from where he sliced them during his struggle to escape the needle of drugs a few hours ago. He had failed considering how dizzy and sick he felt.

He felt bile rise in his throat and nothing else. Two days without food and water was taking a toll. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

His throat constricted, making him panic. He was going to choke.

Cold hands turned his head to the side just as he threw up. His wrists stung as he reopened his wounds.

“Udessi, kih’vod. Just let it out,” Echo soothed him softly, fingernails traveling lightly over his scalp enough to send goosebumps across his skin.

Finn let Echo take the heavy weight of his head, too weak to do it himself. He grimaced as he moved his head to the other side, moaning in pain.

Echo pressed their heads together as he fought the waves of pain going through his body. Finn felt his body vibrating with nothing but adrenaline to keep him going.

“I’m so sorry, Finn,” Echo whispered, tears in his eyes. “Ni ceta, kih’vod. This never should’ve happened.”

Finn tried to find the words but everything was spinning. He fumbled until coming up with, “It was my choice. I made it.” His whisper cracked and crumbled in the small room.

The ARC just sighed, eyes sad and broken. “No, Finn. I knew better. I should’ve fought for you harder.”

Finn whined as he hit his wrists. Echo’s right hand shot down to still his moments, thumb smoothing over the irritated skin while the blood didn’t smudge a centimeter. Finn took a second. “Echo, I had to distract them.”

“You’re being tortured, Finn,” Echo said firmly. “There was a good chance all four of you would’ve made it out safely. A decent fucking chance, love.”

Finn closed his eyes, fighting the tears. He wanted to go home. Home with Han and Chewie. With Poe. With Rey.

Echo had too many memories swimming in his eyes for Finn to blame him for his tone and words.

“What happened to you?” he asked the ARC, praying he’d get an answer.

Echo’s thumb evened out the creases in his brow. The ARC stared at the wall for a while before his body started to change.

His right arm was replaced with metal and machinery. Finn sucked in a harsh breath, only finding more horrifying discoveries. Both of Echo’s legs were metal from the hips below, showing how brutal whatever happened to him was. But the worst was when his eyes went upwards.

Finn felt the heat of his tears on his skin when he saw the metal ports in Echo’s skull. His skin was white as snow, gaunt against his skeleton. His Echo returned just moments later.

Echo’s breath stuttered. “Techno Union. I became their little experiment. They weaponized me against my brothers, taking strategies from my mind to kill battalions. I went with the Batch at the end of the war and stayed with them.”

Finn leaned into his soft ministrations, finding comfort in such simple touches. “Why? Torrent was your squad.”

Echo’s throat tightened. “Fives…” he paused. “I was gone for too long. Too changed by what happened to me. I…couldn’t look anyone in the eye without feeling like an aruetii. Hunter knew I would struggle and offered a place in his squad. He helped the most. I love the Batch differently than the 501st but we’re still bonded together even in death.”

Finn leaned his head back, still looking at the man in front of him. “Am I going to die in here?”

Echo’s resolve crumbled. “I don’t know.”

Death scared him. It terrified him because it would rip away all of this. Everything.

“You can sleep,” the man nearly cooed to him. Finn felt his bones melt at the words. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

Finn’s head rested against Echo’s palm, soft enough to feel like a damn pillow compared to the metal.

His dreams almost swept him up, but then he heard a soft, “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod.”

What the hell were they saying?

…

For the next three days, clone after clone filled the space of the previous ones by his side. Even with all the terrible shit he learned every minute, he’d never felt closer to his ghosts before. With them opening up to him with the truth, he felt he knew them to their core. What made them tick.

Wolffe. Bacara. Waxer and Boil. Bly’s men. Ponds. Monnk, Keeli, and Doom. Even the Alphas indulged him. So many stories swirled in his head, but he’d never forget any of them.

Not all of them were terrible. They knew him too well. Stories of pranks or small moments between battles kept that spark of hope alive inside of Finn. And those strange words in Mando’a he just couldn’t translate properly. His guesses didn’t seem right at all.

The Littles were forbidden from coming near him, and Finn agreed with them. They didn’t need to see him on the verge of passing out or with blood running down his body. Ushar was getting more creative, but Finn wondered why Ren didn’t just come in and pick apart his brain.

Finn pulled his eyes open after passing out. Blearily looking around, he couldn’t tell what time it was or how long he was out. However, there was a figure sitting on the ground that he wasn’t expecting to see.

A lot of the clones blurred in his mind—there were thousands of them that he spoke to. It took him a few seconds before a wave of surprise smashed into him. “Dogma,” he whispered.

The boy’s head snapped up, anxiety in his eyes. Nervously clearing his throat, he stood up from the ground. “Hi…I…”

Finn just gave him a gentle smile. “Hi.”

“Are…you somewhat okay?” the boy asked him. His finger tapped the table, a tick he noticed in a lot of them. Unable to stay still, like they were hardwired for movement.

Finn didn’t want to lie to him. “No.”

Dogma’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I know this sucks.”

He had nothing else to do but dig for information. He shifted his head to look at the boy better. “Similar situation.”

Dogma snorted, working his jaw. “Last thing that happened before I died was me getting strapped to a table.”

Finn strained his fingers to brush against Dogma’s hand but his heart got crushed when he felt nothing. He kept forgetting. “Decommed?” He was familiar with the procedure. It happened to those that disobeyed. Or people like him that were too dangerous to be kept alive.

That little girl from his sorry excuse of a childhood was Force sensitive. There was no doubt in his mind now. And his soul ached for her.

Dogma nodded slowly. “I was in prison for a while. The Corries’ custody.”

Finn frowned, not used to the term. “With Thorn?”

The boy finally looked back at him. “He was one of the commanders. It was better than being taken into Republic custody. I would’ve been killed a hell of a lot sooner.” At the question in Finn’s eyes, he continued, “A lot of those people were there because of us. Half the citizens on Coruscant would’ve slipped a shiv between our ribs for free.”

Finn’s eyes misted with tears. “ Why ?”

Dogma blinked, clearing his thoughts. He sighed. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this comforting thing. We weren’t people to them. Just cannon fodder to them and the rest of the galaxy. Instead of hating their politicians, they hated us. We were the easy targets. We couldn't fight back or there was a high chance of us being killed by the GAR. So we had to settle for being abused by the galaxy.”

Finn watched as Dogma debated with himself before putting a hand on his forearm. Just that simple damn touch made Finn relax, just a bit of relief from his pain.

“The 501st was lucky,” Dogma whispered. “Anakin cared about us. Saw us as equals. Most of the Jedi did, and we knew that. It was the Admirals that were the issue for other battalions.”

“Admirals?” Finn asked. 

“GAR military personnel.” Dogma got more comfortable around him. “Hated most of us. Abused us. Assaulted us. Other unspeakable things to the really unlucky ones.”

Anger boiled inside of Finn’s chest. “Why didn’t anyone do anything?”

Dogma looked to the ceiling. “I was young when Tup and I were in the 510st. Too young, Finn. Sixteen.”

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes. The age matched up. He wasn’t quite grown like the other al’verdese and older troopers. Even Tup, Comet, and Wooley looked just too young as well, but Dogma was worse.

He was sixteen when he was slaughtered like an animal. A baby in Finn’s eyes.

“The GAR had control over us. We were quite literally their property in the contract. The Jedi couldn’t change it, but they sure as hell tried. But it never went anywhere. They got the final say over us. So they killed me for protecting the universe from a Sith in the Republic.”

Finn couldn’t say anything for a while or he would start crying. Dogma looked close to breaking as well.

Once the sting in the back of his throat went away, fear replaced it for the question he was formulating. “Dogma…Tup misses you.”

Dogma stiffened. “He fucking shouldn’t.”

Finn blinked. “Why wouldn't he? He’s your batchmate.”

One tear fell. “If I had just fucking listening to Rex, Tup, hell all of them, we wouldn’t have slaughtered our own brothers.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Finn whispered. “You’re sixteen and a private. It wasn’t your job.”

Dogma stared around before squeezing his arm. “Bye Finn.”

Finn banged his head back as the boy disappeared. “Fuck me.” That didn’t end the way he wanted it to.

He jumped when the door slid open, revealing Ushar. His footsteps had been silent.

“You’re wasting your time,” Finn drawled, feigning confidence that he didn’t have. “I’m not telling you.”

Ushar’s head did that slow turn again. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” His fingers danced over Finn’s ribs that were still sore from their last beating. Finn fought his flinch and failed. The man leaned close to his ear. “You will break soon. There is no doubt about that. You’re just a boy, hiding behind rebel terrorists. And once you give us what we want, because you will…well, you know what happens after that.”

Finn whined as a fist collided with his jaw. Then his breath was snatched away by another landing on his chest. He felt bone give away with a small crack, and fire lit up across his body.

And for just a brief moment, he was willing to do anything to make all the pain end.

…

Fives and Tup sat with them the next day, and Finn had picked up on the odd mood they were in.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The simple question had him breathless from the cracked ribs.

“The weather is absolutely shite,” Fives answered easily, a smile on his face. “Troopers are shivering in their boots on the night watch.”

Deflecting. They were all amazing at this skill, but Finn didn’t want it to go like this.  “Fives…please.”

Fives’ smile dropped at his plea, fingers tight in his hair. Tup just looked at his guardian while biting his lip, begging for him to say whatever was on his mind.

Fives stood up, patting Finn’s shoulder gently. “I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” Finn wanted him to stay but he nodded.

Tup took Fives’ place, holding onto his forearm. His fingers gently ran over his sleeve, relaxing the tense muscles. “You want to know, don’t you?”

Finn thought about it. Tup wasn’t talking about what Fives was hiding. The clones had been spilling their deepest secrets to him, and Tup was high on the list of secrecy. The entire army had hid something from him about Tup, and now was his chance. Finn nodded, agreeing to open this can of worms.

Tup blew out a long breath and tears were already there. Finn pushed the back of his fingers against his thigh.

“I was eighteen when I died. And I barely even remember how it happened.”

Finn blinked at the new situation. Most of the clones vividly recalled how they left the physical plane. “What do you mean?”

Tup just allowed himself to cry silently. “Finn, my chip activated. I was the first one a year too early. It just destroyed me from the inside out. Everything swam inside of my mind. The battle, Fives and Rex, Kamino. All of it just didn’t seem real. But then all the pain finally went away.”

Finn wanted to hold him, cradle him away from the horrors he’d experienced in his short life. Tup’s kind soul didn’t deserve it. “And you woke up to being a ghost.”

Tup sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first, still thinking it was just me going crazy. It took others from the 501st pinning me down and explaining for me to believe it.”

“How the hell did the chip even activate?” Finn asked.

Tup shrugged.

“It misfired. Started degrading inside of his skull,” Fives’ clipped voice explained, looking over his teen charge. He wrapped him into one of the softest hugs Finn had seen. “They’re behavioral chips, controlled our emotions. And Tup was wiped clean.”

Something wasn’t fully being told to Finn, but honestly, he wasn’t going to push it. If Tup wasn’t ready to talk about it after so long, maybe he never would. And that was okay.

“I died two days after,” Fives murmured.

Finn made a wounded noise.

Tup looked up at Fives with that same look. Fives murmured Mando’a to him, and Tup disappeared. Fives was angry. It was all over his body language.

“The Kaminoans were covering it up. Told Rex and I it was a tumor,” Fives spat out. “I knew that was all fucking bullshit since I was watching him just fucking die.”

Finn swallowed his emotions down. “How could you stand that?”

Fives looked him dead in the eye, leaning closer. “I watched as he was strapped down like an animal as needles and probes were stuck into him. Eventually, he barely even recognized me. So no, I couldn’t stand it, Finn. I couldn’t stand it, so I made the genius plan of exposing Palpatine and his plot to turn the GAR on the Jedi.”

Treason. All of that spelled treason to the highest extent. Finn let him keep talking.

“I was trying to protect all of us. To keep us from killing the only people that have ever cared about us other than our own. And I got a bullet to the chestplate for my troubles. From a brother,” Fives growled.

Fear leapt through Finn’s body. No, that couldn’t be right. A clone wouldn’t kill another clone…

Then he recalled Umbara. And a comment made to him not long ago about conflicting battalions in the GAR. Maybe it was possible.

Fives sighed, cupping his cheek. Finn didn't even notice the tears falling. “Not how I wanted that to go,” he sighed. “But I died before I could do anything to save the rest of the vode. I told Kix and then he disappeared off the face of the galaxy just months later. Nothing I did mattered in the end. Order 66 still happened.”

They sat there for a while as their strong feelings died down. Finn had learned how to get somewhat comfortable in his bindings, so he shifted around while Fives still cradled his head.

Tup came back, a furrow in his brow. “Ren’s back…”

Finn was dead. His time was finally up. “He was looking for them, wasn’t he?” His family.

Tup nodded. “He was…Thankfully, the Resistance is still hidden.”

Finn shut his eyes tightly as a sob broke out of him. Ushar may not have strong control over the force, but Ren did. The only reason he’d lasted this long was because Ren had other priorities. Now, he was the Sith’s prized prisoner.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod,” both of the Torrent members told him in perfect unison before leaving him in the room alone.

Finn waited with panicked breathing for anything to happen. And a shiver went down his spine as someone approached.

Ren. It had to be.

The doors opened and there Ren stood. Snow dusted his cloak and boots, dripping onto the durasteel floor. Finn saw his lightsaber absent from his belt, and he prayed Finn wouldn’t meet his clones in Manda just yet.

“You’re a slippery one, FN-2187,” Ren’s voice cracked over his helmet, startling Finn on the table.

Finn hid from his eyes. Normally, his bucket would protect him somewhat from the man’s stare, and now he was bare and strapped down.

“Scared, Eighty-seven?”

His old identification sounded sour in the air. Ren already knew what buttons to press to make him want to lash out.

Finn watched the wall, cringing as Ren stepped further into the room. He felt frozen, all bravado slipping away.

Kylo Ren was a scary motherfucker.

“You had promise, Eighty-seven. Until Jakku. I saw you slipping. Slipping into a galaxy of chaos and insanity. Never thought it would lead you to the Resistance and Han Solo, but you live to disappoint me.”

Finn closed his eyes to stop from trembling. “Funny, Phasma said almost the same thing.” The air was charged with something that made him nervous.

“I’m warning you now, Eighty-seven. If you continue to press my patience, I will make what Ushar has done feel like a mercy. So where is Han Solo?”

“Surprised Rey didn’t tell you.”

A bruising grip appeared on his arm and Finn hissed. He swore the bone was creaking under Ren’s grip. It got Finn’s attention.

“That little bitch is lucky I didn’t kill her,” the man hissed.

A smile came to him. Rey had stayed strong. “Seems to me you just let her go, considering I found her the hallways with a blaster while your troopers ran around with their heads—”

A tight grip went around his throat. Finn choked. But Ren was two feet away from him. His lungs ached for oxygen that wasn’t coming. His wrists and legs banged against the table. Spots were starting to appear in his vision.

Just before he was close to blacking out, Ren marched out of the room and the door slammed closed behind him.

Finn panted for breath, but it still felt like his throat was collapsed.

“Hey, slow it down,” someone told him.

Finn whined.

“It’ll make it worse, just slow it down, verd.”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew it was a clone. It was agonizing to slow down as his body begged for air, but he didn’t want to disobey.

“There you go. Just calm down.”

Finn couldn’t open his eyes just yet, so he had to guess who it was. He sounded older, that slightly thicker accent from the early generations. But it was different, twinged with something else.

“Eyes, kid. Need to know you can hear me.”

It took a while, but he listened. His eyes found red painted armor. His first thought was Thorn, but the paint didn’t match. And he wasn’t Stone, who Finn had seen only a handful of times.

The man’s tired eyes stared down at him. “Good,” he murmured. “You do listen. Can you breathe okay now that you’re not gasping like a fish?”

Finn nodded, not really off put by his tone. The Alphas said worse to him during training. But he couldn’t stop the furrow in his brow.

“How bad’s your throat?”

“F-Fine,” Finn said through the slight pain. Nothing felt permanently damaged.

The man relaxed finally, some tension leaving his body. “Nice to meet you, verd.”

Finn looked around and saw no one else. “...Hi. Who are you?”

The man snorted. “Fox.”

Finn blanked. It didn’t sound familiar.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you to know me.”

There was bitterness in his voice. Finn looked at the man. “Why?”

“I’m an aruetii.”

He said it so damn easy that it gave Fives whiplash. And mistrust. A traitor, but that could mean so many things. “But you’re a Corrie.” He knew the stories, they were under such high scrutiny that it made it extremely difficult to betray the Republic.

“Not to the fucking Republic or Senate.” Fox rolled his eyes. “Though I do hope most of them are burning in hell.” He sighed, hanging his head. “No, I’m so much damn worse, Finn.”

Finn knew of two types of traitors to the clones. Those who disregarded the safety of the galaxy and abandoned their mission to protect the innocent. And those who betrayed their brothers. “What did you do?” Finn whispered, mind spinning with multiple, horrible thoughts.

“I’m the worst of all—a brother killer.”

Finn turned his head away. His chest ached. “Who?” the question broke in his chest.

“You already know,” Fox whispered, shame seeping in.

Fives. He was the one that killed Fives. Took him away from his battalion—his family. Fives was a beacon of light in the army, everyone knew it. One hot tear slipped out.

Finn wanted to scream at him. To tell him to get out and never speak to him again. The 501st was his rock. All of the clones were dear to him, but they migrated to him without even trying.

“Trust me, I hate myself too.”

Finn huffed, still not looking at him. “Why’d you do it?”

“To be honest, I don’t even know.”

He peered at the commander as his vision blurred. He never wanted to hate any of his clones, so he’d hear him out. “What does that mean?”

Fox fought with himself. “I answered to Chancellor Palpatine directly. Throughout the war. Now that I’m dead, I feel like a fucking dumbass for not figuring out who he was earlier. He was strong with the Force. Twisted our minds whenever we spoke to him. He…”

Finn saw the fear in his eyes. His anger was starting to settle. “What did he do to you?”

Fox shook his head, visibly mad at himself. “Nothing that our trainers or Admirals didn't do. Played with us. Made us do things we didn’t quite know the repercussions of. That’s what happened with Fives. I was with Palpatine when he gave the order. Everything just went fuzzy that whole night. Fives was erratic, but I didn’t know it was because they had lost Tup. He…reached for a blaster. I thought I had stun set.”

Finn wanted to throw up at the man’s admission. All of that sounded horrible. All the confusion and high emotions with the adrenaline of a possible threat.

“You still shot him,” Finn whispered, playing the devil’s advocate.

Another snort came out with a spark of tears in the commander’s eyes. “Rex decked me once they took Fives away. Had to drag him away from his body. I just wanted Rex to keep going. I killed his other half, only seemed fair to me.”

Finn had given up on trying to break free, so he had to use his words. “Did you tell them that? Everything you just told me?”

Fox just laughed, a broken sound. “When I died, the first thing I got was a fist to the face. Didn’t hurt, we can’t feel pain, but Fives’ intent was there. And then with the way Tup looked so scared of me…didn’t even fucking try.”

Fox had been hiding away with the other aruetii, banished in self isolation. Fox deserved the punch, but Finn didn’t know where to draw the line. He didn’t fully understand the nuances behind the clones’ relationship because how could he? No one but they could understand.

“It’s been a couple decades now,” Finn said with a groan as he readjusted. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try again.”

Fox stayed longer than Finn expected. He answered any question Finn asked about the Corries or Coruscant. They talked long enough that Finn’s eyes started dropping.

“Just close them,” the man said with an eye roll. “Wolfpack is watching you tonight.”

Finn let his head fall back into the most comfortable position he’d find. 

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod.”

Finn smiled softly. He still didn’t know what they were saying to him, but his chest got warm whenever he heard it. Fox’s gentle but hesitant fingers going through his hair sent him into a deep sleep.

…

Finn opened his eyes as a shiver went through his spine. He was expecting to see his cell, but all he saw was a lot of darkness.

His wrists and ankles were free of the restraints, he relaxed. He sat up, taking in his surroundings.

Darkness. That’s all he saw and felt as he looked around. The stones beneath his hands were cold and cracked. He had no idea where he was.

The room he was in felt wrong. All of it.

The whispers started. His name. Rey’s name. Voices he didn’t recognize.

Finn realized what the hell was in front of him. A throne of darkness.

Lightning cracked overhead.

His legs shook as he stood up, stumbling a few steps. His body froze at what he saw.

A little child on the floor in a tan robe. Finn ran over to them. Just as he reached the ground, the child disappeared into smoke.

Finn’s breathing picked up as he looked around. What was this?

Bodies just kept appearing. Not just Jedi younglings but men and women in robes as well. And soon his clones joined the casualties.

Finn sobbed as he tripped over bodies. Bodies of his family. Charger’s dead eyes. Fordo’s strewn body. Boss’ entire broken rib cage. So many more.

“What do you want?!” Finn screamed to the room.

“You,” a cracked, maniacal voice said. 

He jumped back from the throne, eyes going wide as shadows spread around the room. Lightning rained down as he saw a pale figure under a hood sitting in front of him.

Finn turned to run away but the ground just rose up to slam into him.

…

“Finn, shhhh, shhhh.”

Finn fought wildly, sobbing loudly. Too many hands were touching him. “Gev!” Once their hands disappeared, he could breathe easier. He was back in the cell. It felt safer than whatever fresh hell his mind had conjured.

Fingers brushed his, giving him the choice. Finn immediately latched on, focusing hard enough to do so. It calmed him.

Wolffe’s calloused fingers splayed across his jaw, turning his head. He followed the movement.

“What did you see?” the Wolfpack commander ordered calmly.

Boost and Sinker whispered furiously just above his head while Comet held onto his hand. Finn blinked, trying to put things into words.

“Kih’vod, huula. Breathe.” Wolffe’s thumbs worked over his cheeks. “Nice and easy.”

“I want out,” Finn cried quietly to his brother.

Wolffe pressed their heads together, miscolored eyes collected but heartbroken. “We know. What did you see?” he repeated.

Finn spaced out, everything going blurry. “There were so many bodies. Jedi and clones. I don’t even know where I fucking was. And—And there was this person in a robe. He felt so wrong , Wolffe.”

The man nodded along with his words. “Okay, love. Shhhhh.”

Sinker slipped a hand beneath his shoulders, thumb moving over his shoulder blade. “Just a dream, little one. It’s all just a dream.”

No one believed his words, not even Sinker himself. Finn’s dreams were never just figments of his imagination.

“Please talk,” Finn whimpered out, closing his eyes. Wolffe kept their heads together.

“Ever heard about our Jedi?”

Finn relaxed at the stories of Plo Koon from his troopers. His sons. How from the very beginning of the war with the Malevolence to the end of his time he always made sure his boys knew they weren’t explainable in his eyes.

They continued to talk to him about the other Jedi they were close with. Windu’s dry and diplomatic character. Kenobi’s calm but sarcastic energy. The absolute chaos that was Anakin Skywalker but that they had never seen someone so loyal to their clones. 

Finn didn’t want to fall asleep the rest of that night. And they said those same words to him, none of them offering a translation.