Chapter Text
The bridge of the Venator-class Star Destroyer, a sprawling expanse of durasteel and glowing holoscreens, was a tableau of quiet anticipation. The air itself seemed to hum with it, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft chime of a notification emanating from the central console. The sound was a gentle punctuation, announcing the approach of a single, small vessel. The colossal ship itself provided a steady, rhythmic hum, a deep counterpoint to the subtle clicks and murmurs of the crew at their stations.
Near the control console, where the bridge officers typically orchestrated the ship’s movements, stood Captain Rex. His stance radiated a quiet intensity, a professional stillness that belied the tension in his shoulders. His mostly white helmet was tucked securely under his left arm. The distinctive blue edging around the t-visor and the proud jaig eyes, symbols of courage that his ba’buir had insisted he had earned, were a vivid splash of color against the painted beskar. His gaze tracked the incoming blip on the main viewscreen, watching it resolve from a pulsing point of light into the sleek silhouette of a single person fighter. Beside him, attentive and equally expectant, were a handful of newly assigned officers of the 501st, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. This was it. The moment they would meet their new Jedi General.
He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d landed in this particular position. Just days ago, he had been preparing to ship out for Christophsis, as Kote’s second in command. That in itself had been an interesting development, a step up he wasn’t inherently opposed to. Then Alpha had burst into the hanger, his posture stiff with a jarring change in orders that sent a ripple of disbelief through the assembled troops. The meticulously planned troop deployment was now to be split, the battalions sent in separate directions on the whim of the Chancellor. With a frustrated scowl, the Marshall Commander had complied, but his displeasure about the last minute, illogical change was evident to anyone within a hundred meters, a silent, seething storm of irritation that radiated from him like heat.
When the question of who would command the second, unexpectedly created, unit arose, dark eyes had turned contemplatively to the blond. And just like that, with a single, decisive pronouncement, he had been promoted on the spot and put in charge of the newly designated 501st.
When Alpha had tried to protest the sudden decision, Kote had snapped that not only was he a member of the Council, but that he was specifically in charge of the military. His word, especially about the troops and their deployment, was final. A chilling silence had descended upon the hanger after that, and no one had dared to raise any further objections.
So, here he was, now a Captain, with Sergeant Appo acting as his second, waiting for the Jedi who would be nominally in charge of them. He knew better than to hope for Kenobi, the one Jedi he could almost tolerate. Instead, he mentally lowered his expectations, settling for any Jedi he hadn’t met before. However, if it turned out to be Yoda or Mundi, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Those two, in particular, had earned his ire with their deliberate, callous attempts to keep his son from him.
“General on deck!” a crewman’s voice echoed through the space, pulling Rex’s thoughts back to the matter at hand.
The entire bridge crew immediately rose from their stations, snapping to rigid attention with synchronized precision. He, as the ranking officer present, remained at ease, his focus sharpening as the main access door to the bridge hissed open with a breath of pressurized air.
A figure stepped through, tall and broad shouldered, carrying himself with a confident, almost arrogant, stride that seemed to fill the space. This was their Jedi. Honey brown eyes narrowed as he braced himself, a low knot of tension tightening in his gut, for the identity of who it could possibly be.
The man’s silhouette solidified into an almost familiar form as he strode onto the bridge. This man was taller than the Vod’e standard, but not by much, with a strong jawline and an air of restless, barely contained energy that seemed to crackle around him. His dark blond hair, that looked like it had recently been grown out, fell across his forehead in gentle, almost rebellious, waves. His piercing blue eyes scanned the bridge with an intensity that seemed to miss nothing. He had a faint scar over the corner of his right eye, and a peculiar, cocky swagger in his step.
The Captain’s knuckles clenched, white and tight, around the rim of his helmet as he finally placed where he knew this particular Jedi from. This was the asshole who had tried to undermine Kote on Geonosis. The one who had tried to fire on his son.
Gods, why did it have to be him? While he didn’t particularly hate this man, not with the visceral, burning intensity he reserved for that fucking green troll or the perpetually infuriating Cerean, but he had absolutely no respect for him. He hadn’t even considered him a possibility for his General, as he had only been a Padawan at the time of their last encounter. But wasn’t he proof that a lot could change in a very short span of time? And it had been months since that particular battle.
The Jedi came to a smooth, unhurried stop before the console, his gaze finally coming to rest on Rex. A silent assessment passed between them, a clash of wills in the quiet hum of the bridge.
“Captain,” the other gave him a polite nod, a friendly, easygoing smile touching his lips. “I guess you’re the one in charge here. I’m General Skywalker, your new commanding officer,” he extended his hand, his expression open and casual. “Pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”
“Sir,” he snapped a crisp, almost robotic, salute, his arm moving automatically with disciplined precision. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The words fell flat off his tongue, almost rote, devoid of any genuine warmth or sincerity. He did not take the offered hand, instead holding the salute for a beat longer than necessary, his gaze fixed on the Jedi’s face. Skywalker’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. He lowered his hand smoothly, adjusting the grip on his lightsaber.
“Right,” the taller male shook his head. “So, Captain… what’s your name? And this is the 501st, right?” he gestured around the bridge, his eyes still assessing, trying to find some common ground.
“CT-7567, sir, currently designated Captain of the 501st Legion,” Rex stated, his voice devoid of inflection, as his hand finally fell stiffly to his side. “Everything is proceeding as scheduled, sir.”
The other’s brow furrowed slightly. Piercing blue eyes held his unyielding gaze for a beat longer, acknowledging the clear barrier that had just been erected. At least this asshole understood some aspects of their culture. There was no casual small talk to be had here.
“Okay, then,” the General leaned against the console, aiming for a casualness that didn’t quite fit the ratcheting tension. “Well, I’m sure we’ll make a good team. We’ve got plenty of room to make our mark, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”
He remained silent for a moment, letting the hum of the bridge fill the void. Make our mark? This idiot already had, hadn’t he? He had his orders, and he would follow them. But respect, that was something Skywalker would have to earn, and he had his doubts about that ever happening.
“If that will be all, General,” he nodded curtly to the other blond, “we have duties to attend to.”
With that, he turned on his heel and began making his way stiffly to the main access door, his fellow officers, sensing the unspoken tension, falling into step in a silent, synchronized formation behind him. He could feel the Jedi’s intense gaze tracking his retreat, a burning spot on the back of his neck, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. He released a heavy breath as the door hissed closed behind them, creating a solid barrier between him and his new, infuriating General.
“Problem, vod?” Appo asked, voice low and concerned, drawing level with him as they walked down the corridor.
“Were you on Geonosis, Appo?” curious honey orbs drifted to the brunet.
“No,” the Sergeant shook his head, going along with the odd non sequitur. “I was assisting with the cleanup on Kamino. But I have seen some of the footage. I have to say, I don’t regret not being there.”
“Don’t blame ya,” he sighed. “I half wish I hadn’t been. But it got me Harry back, even if it was just for a short time.”
“Okay,” the other frowned. “That doesn’t explain the problem now. Unless… was Skywalker there?”
“Wait,” Jesse piped up from his spot right behind them with Kix. “Waxer’s footage. That was him?”
He flinched slightly, a subtle tightening of his jaw that was only visible to the men who knew him best. Right, he had forgotten most of Gamma Squad was now under his direct command. And they would’ve undoubtedly seen that particular footage.
“Look,” he raked his free hand over his shorn hair in a gesture of frustration, “this is personal for me. This is between me and him. Do not let this knowledge affect how you treat Skywalker. For better or worse, he is our General now and you have to follow his lead. Let me deal with my issues.”
“Of course, vod,” Kix shot a pointed look at the others, ensuring the message was clear. “Just know we’re here if you ever want to talk.”
888888
The resonant hum of the long, sleek prototype stealth ship’s engine died down as it settled into the hanger deck with a soft hiss of compressed air. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi took a subtle, fortifying breath as he made his way down the main access ramp, the air thick with the metallic scent of ozone and the heavy smell of fuel. Grey-blue eyes swept over the bustling space, a canvas of organized chaos where men and droids moved with practiced efficiency. His gaze, however, came to rest on the disciplined formation of the troopers awaiting his arrival. Not just any troopers though, these were his troops, the newly designated 212th Attack Battalion. Because he had been made a General of the Grand Army of the Republic, and these men were now under his command and his responsibility. And while he didn’t know any of them yet, he was determined to get to know each and every one of them and do his utmost to see as many as he could through this travesty of a war.
As he made his way toward the assembled vod’e, his gaze snagged on the figure at the front, clad in white armor with very distinctive gold paint. Was that…? Could that possibly be Hero? A flicker of genuine excitement, a warmth that hadn’t been there a moment prior, washed over him at the prospect of having someone familiar at his side in this sea of identical faces. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought, even if he knew that particular man would not appreciate the sentiment in the slightest.
His thoughts were derailed, however, as the man stepped forward and he actually registered his presence in the Force. This was not Hero. The paint was the same, but in the Force he was more accessible yet contained. The Alpha had been a sealed bulwark with occasional bursts of intense emotions seeping through, whereas he could feel this man’s emotions, but they were reigned in on a very tight leash. Though there was something familiar about the trooper that he couldn’t quite place.
The helmet, too, was different. It was similar to the others around, but it had a distinctive gold visor that he assumed was for cutting down on the glare. And a small antenna up the side that could only be for communications.
Infuriating Jedi!
The thought, as well as the intense, jarring wave of animosity that swept over him like a sudden, chilling flood had his back straightening in shock. He showed no further outward signs, but his eyes darted around as his Force sense expanded, trying to pinpoint the source of the ire. He was brought back to the present as the trooper closed the distance between them.
“General,” the man snapped a crisp salute.
“Commander?”
He assumed this trooper was to be his second due more to his bearing than anything else. Though that sense of familiarity was niggling at the edges of his thoughts, a faint whisp of memory he couldn’t quite grasp. A small smirk played at the corners of the man’s lips, causing the scar curling around his eye to pull slightly. It suddenly clicked where Obi-Wan knew this specific trooper from and he began mentally kicking himself for it taking so long.
“Marshall Commander,” he corrected. “Forgive me, it took me a moment to place you.”
“It’s fine, sir,” Kote shook his head, a flash of something akin to amusement in his brown eyes. “There are so many of us. No one expects you to remember just one.”
“I find that excuse unacceptable, Commander,” he took a subtle, fortifying breath. “While you may all have the same genetic makeup, I find each and every one of the Vod’e a delightfully unique individual, not only in the Force but in personality and temperament as well. And I assure you, I’m looking forward to getting to know each of the men under my command as much as they will let me, even if they are not comfortable sharing their names. Speaking of, I would like to extend my deepest apologies for my rudeness in our prior meeting in using your name without your permission. Harry let it slip, and I just assumed that would be what you would prefer to be called.”
The Commander let out a sharp bark of laughter, a rare sound that caused all the troopers in the immediate vicinity to stop and stare, “With all due respect, sir, you will cause more of an uproar by dropping Harry’s name than any of ours you happen to overhear.”
“So I’ve been told,” he shook his head ruefully. “However, Harry and I share a uniquely profound relationship, and I have more than earned the right to use his name.”
“Kidnapping him does not count as a relationship,” the CC deadpanned.
“I am never going to live that down, am I?” he heaved an aggrieved sigh.
“Not likely, sir,” that infuriating smirk was back on the brunet’s face. “Though, I will say this, sir, if you know our chosen names, you would show us more respect by using them than not.”
“I see,” he nodded. “Very well then, Cody, in that case please feel free to call me Obi-Wan.”
“As you say, sir,” the Commander inclined his head. “Now, if you are ready, we should be getting under way.”
“Of course,” the redhead motioned for the other to lead the way. “Um, however, since you are to be my second in command, I would like to start out on a positive note. That being said, it has recently come to my attention that you have been denied contact with your son. If you would like, I could make a call to the Temple, and you could speak with him before we depart.”
The offer seemed to catch the other off guard. Brown eyes turned to regard him, boring into him as if capable of seeing any sign of deceit. The rigid composure of his Force signature wavered for just a moment.
“As much as I would like to speak with Harry,” Kote said carefully, as if weighing each word, “I think it would be best, sir, if we continued on to the rendezvous.”
“If that is what you want,” he conceded.
“It’s not so much a matter of want, sir,” the brunet scoffed, “as it is self-preservation. If Rex found out I had talked to our son without him, he would kill me.”
888888
The faint hum of the ship’s bridge was a familiar comfort, a constant white noise that had lulled him into a state of focused readiness many times before. But these past few days aboard the Resolute felt different. The low thrum beneath Anakin’s skin felt less like the ship’s engines and more like a vibrating, taut wire of tension. And it wasn’t just the ambient noise, he could feel the cold, sharp edge of animosity in the Force, a concentrated point of negative emotion currently emanating from around the command console. He stared out at the shimmering crystalline surface of Christophsis below, the glint of the Separatist blockade starkly visible as a web of metallic menace against the planet’s light. His former Master, Obi-Wan, and the Negotiator were late, as usual, but for once, he didn’t mind the delay. It gave him time to figure out whatever this was. And he needed to figure it out fast. They wouldn’t break this blockade, much less survive this war, if they couldn’t find a way to work amicably together.
Blue eyes drifted over to the command console, where his Captain stood. He was a pillar of disciplined silence, his body language a perfect, unyielding display of military professionalism. The clone was always there, always attentive and efficient. And always, always distant. Their initial meeting had been like trying to shake hands with a wall. He had tried again the following day, offering a casual comment about the ship’s readiness for a push, and was met with a curt by the book report. He had then asked for his opinion on optimal blockade running formations, once they had seen what they were facing. All he had received was a detailed recitation of facts.
It wasn’t just the formality of it. He had become used to the efficient discipline of the troopers in the short time they had been working together. But with the Captain it felt personal. The other blond continued to maintain a calculated distance, a polite, professional barrier of words and posture. Hells, the man barely offered his designation number, much less his name, leaving him only his rank to call him by, since he wasn’t going to use a fucking number. And it wasn’t just the physical demeanor either, through the Force he could feel the resentment and animosity pouring off the man in waves, a steady current of loathing that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
He turned from the viewport, effecting an air of casualness as he made his way towards the Captain, his boots making soft, muffled thuds on the durasteel floor.
“Still no sign of the Negotiator,” he heaved a weary sigh, as he came to a stop beside the other blond, mimicking the man’s stance as he looked out at the blockade. “And those ships aren’t going anywhere without a good push.”
“No, sir,” honey brown eyes didn’t even stray from the viewport, his voice devoid of any nuance. “Long range sensors detect no incoming ships. And the Separatist fleet shows no sign of breaking.”
Anakin barely managed to suppress another sigh. It was like talking to a well-programmed droid. Hells, he had more stimulating conversations with 3PO. But he needed someone who could react and anticipate, not just parrot data.
“You know, Captain,” he lowered his voice, leaning in slightly to keep the conversation between the two of them, “I get the feeling you don’t like me. And honestly, I have no idea why. Did I do something wrong? Step on your toes in some way? Or is this just the way you are? If it is, that’s fine, but I need to know. Because we need to be on the same page here if we’re gonna make it through this war.”
“I have done my best to be professional, General,” the trooper replied evenly. “If you have a problem with my conduct, please feel free to file a complaint.”
“It’s not your conduct, Captain,” he agitatedly ran his hand through his hair. “You’re dedicated and efficient, and I couldn’t ask for better.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is, sir.”
Frustrated blue eyes narrowed slightly. There it was again. The perfect, unassailable, robotically correct answer. It wasn’t disrespectful, not explicitly, but it was cold and concise, and didn’t invite further discourse. He racked his brain, trying to recall anything he might have done to create this seemingly insurmountable wall with this particular clone.
“Look,” he turned to fully face the other when he came up with nothing, “you’re my second in command. We’re going to be working very closely during this war, and whatever… this is is not gonna make an effective command team. Now, I may not have a problem with your work, but your attitude needs work. I don’t know if you know this, but Jedi can feel emotions. So, I can tell you have a problem with me, and I would like to know what it is so we can get over it and actually work together.”
“Get over it?!” the Captain whirled around, his voice rising in anger, drawing the attention of everyone on the bridge. “I should ‘get over it’ so you can feel better?! Well, forgive me, General, if I don’t give a shit about your feelings!”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he threw his hands up in a gesture of bewildered exasperation. “Where the kriff is this coming from?”
“Geonosis,” the trooper ground out through clenched teeth.
“Geonosis?” the Jedi almost recoiled, but managed to catch himself. “I didn’t talk to any clones on Geonosis.”
“Bullshit!” the other snapped. “You tried to undermine Kote! Even when told there were extenuating circumstances!”
“Wha—?” blue eyes widened in confusion. “Are you talking about the Commander? He didn’t even want to explain his reasons. He just gave some bullshit about a tooka! Of course I tried to counter him!”
All movement across the bridge halted at his words. The amount of animosity in the Force ratcheted up tenfold, a sudden, suffocating pressure that seemed to steal the very air from the room. He wasn’t sure what exactly he had said or done, but if he didn’t clear this up with the Captain, whatever fragile rapport he had built with the others would be shattered beyond repair.
“Just because you don’t know what’s going on doesn’t mean you get to charge in guns blazing!” the trooper snarled. “Especially when someone has better intel! Then not ten minutes later you threw a fit because the Senator was thrown from the ship! Tell me, was it because she’s not a clone?”
“That,” he clenched his hands into fists, his own anger flaring in response, “that was different!”
“Why?” the other cut him off, his voice rising again. “Because she’s important to you? Are only your important people worth your time? Is that it?!”
“That’s not true!” Anakin shot back, his voice raw with a desperate need to be understood. “Those were totally different things. It was just Dooku!”
“He had my son with him!” the Captain roared, the words echoing through the shocked silence of the bridge. “You ordered Hawk to open fire on a child! My child!”
The color drained from his face as the words sank in. He felt as if the deck of the ship had been ripped out from under him as bile filled his throat. The implications of what his actions on Geonosis would have caused. He had been so consumed by grief and anger, and his own gods damned arrogance, he hadn’t taken the time to grasp the larger picture. All he had seen was an enemy within range and his only thought was to eliminate it at all costs.
Of course it made sense why this man hated him. Hells, he was surprised the Captain wasn’t outright trying to kill him. If he had been in the other’s place, he would have.
“I… I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out, the words feeling utterly inadequate. “I… I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t care to know!” honey brown orbs bore into blue, a burning accusation in their depths. “You didn’t care about anything but yourself!”
“Captain, I…” he took a shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure. “There is nothing I can say that will make up for what happened that day. But had I known, I never would’ve given that order.”
“I doubt that,” the trooper scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “If it hadn’t been for Hawk lying and saying we were out of rockets, you wouldn’t be around to even have this conversation right now.”
“Hey!” one of the troopers, with a stylized red bird on the side of their helmet, interjected indignantly. “I did not lie. The official report states we were out of rockets. The Marshall Commander even signed off on it. So, eat shit, fucker!”
“Oooh, you pissed off Hawk,” another, with a Republic cog painted on the front of his helmet, taunted. “You better sleep with one eye open, vod.”
“You’re not part of this conversation, assholes,” the Captain tossed a rude gesture in their direction. “So, butt the fuck out!”
Anakin almost sagged in relief as the tension in the room broke. The spell of utter hostility had been shattered by the sudden, familiar banter of the clones. He knew he wasn’t off the hook yet, and hadn’t been forgiven, or that he even deserved it, but the crusting animosity that had permeated the ship since his arrival was gone.
“So,” he cleared his throat, almost hesitant to bring the other’s attention back to himself, “did you get him back?”
“What?” honey brown orbs swung back in his direction.
“Your son,” he clarified. “Did you get him back? From Dooku?”
“Oh, yeah,” the other blond shook his head. “Crafty little shit escaped on his own before Dooku took off. He should be with his ba’buire about now.”
“I… I’m glad,” he let out a relieved sigh, at least that wasn’t another burden on his conscience. “And I truly am sorry for the distress my actions cause you and your family, Captain.”
“Don’t be sorry,” dark eyes raked over him assessingly, “be better. And the name’s Rex.”
“Well, Rex,” he quirked a small, genuine smile in the man’s direction, “it’s a good thing I’ve got you around to hold me accountable then. Though, I have to say, I’m surprised you didn’t try to kill me then.”
“Oh,” a slightly vicious smirk graced the other’s features, “you have Kote to thank for that. He ordered two of the others to hold me back.”