Chapter Text
The morning had started just as bleak as any other day in the past weeks, waking up to a grey ceiling and to the Coruscant base recycled air blowing in his face. It wasn’t comfortable to linger on the hard shelf that was his bed for long so he rose to sit, pausing the time to take a deep breath before he stood and started his day.
He did everything he could to busy himself and avoid thinking, to try and forget the ordeal he had just barely survived.
He didn’t want to be reminded of the painful sunburns that had covered his skin for the first days he was stranded, followed by the deep cold that had settled in his bones when the heavy dark clouds had covered the sky again. The heavy cough that had settled in his chest had just barely gone away, just like the visceral hunger that had been his companion for the thirty-two rotations he had spent on that bare, Maker forsaken platform.
He tried to not let his mind linger on the thought of his brothers at all.
He was in the mess when the speakers called him to the Vice-Admiral’s office.
He sighed leaving his barely touched meal and took a deep breath before entering the natborn’s office, letting it out slowly just as the door slid open.
He did his best to not show how annoyed he was at having to leave his meal behind, coming to stand in front of the desk in a parede rest.
He listened to the Vice-Admiral blandly congratulate him for being cleared for duty, narrowing his eyes slightly when he asked why he had returned at all. He answered as hernestly as he could, stating his choice to remain as a soldier of the Empire. He tried to push down the emptiness left by those words, chosing to focus on Rampart.
The Vice-Admiral stared at him for nearly a minute after his statement, silent and absolutely still.
He kept silent too, holding his gaze until he started wondering if he had said something wrong, when the pad in the natborn’s hands was slowly lowered to the desk. He didn’t like the cold calculating light that lit the Vice-Admiral’s eyes, nor the whisper in which he spoke again. “Indeed, and good soldiers follow orders.”
The natborn’s head tilted slightly to the side and kept staring at him for a moment more before speaking softly. “Clones are famous for their loyalty. Yet more and more of your kind are starting down a worring path of disputing orders.”
His nose scrunched slightly. “Those are regs.”
“Your old squad is not made by ‘regs’, and yet they left. They betrayed first the GAR, then the Empire. According to your report even you, before they died…” He trailed off leaving the words hanging between them for a moment and he couldn’t help a spike of fear flashing through his chest. He kept his face carefully blank at that, waiting for the natborn to finish. “I’m afraid you will have to give me something more than simple words to make me believe you are still one of ours.”
“Give me a mission, Sir, and I’ll show you.”
Rampart shook his head. “It’s too soon for a mission. What about an order?”
“It’s the same, Sir.”
“And you are sure you will obey?” He lift his chin, simply staring the natborn down. “Well then. Show me.”
He held Rampart’s gaze, a bit perplexed, then a shiver run up his spine at the slighty amused smile that slowly curved the Vice-Admiral’s lips. “Come here.”
His eyebrow rose in confusion. “Sir?”
“Come stand here, a foot away from me.”
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly complied, walking to stand behind the desk. He was so close he could brush the Admiral’s spread knees, and his breath stopped for a moment when he beckoned him closer. He almost didn’t move, instinct screaming at him to run when the man pointed a finger to the ground. “Kneel.”
It took him a moment to understand and he breathed around the knot in his throat. “Sir…”
Rampart snorted, leaning back in his chair. “And here I thought you just said you were ready to follow orders…”
He stared at the man’s smirking face, at the glee filling the hazel eyes and clenched his jaw before slowly complying. He lowered to his knees, his back painfully straight when his legs couldn’t be, and waited, his glare boring into the other man’s.
The Vice-Admiral stared at him for a long minute, scanning his features, then leaned forward and lift a hand to his cheek. He stopped breathing at the contact, his eyes wavering briefly to the man’s wrist. He blanched out for a moment, finding himself into a blinding white room, kneeling on a soft area of padded ground, in front of a different man.
He couldn’t see him as he squinted in the painfully bright light but his eyes grew bigger in horror when the hand shifted to the top of his head, and he couldn’t suppress the whimper coming from the back of his throat. He reluctantly followed where the hand led, coming to stiffly lay the side of his head on Rampart’s thigh. “There, this is better right?”
His jaw clenched tighter, and he couldn’t stop his breath from picking up. The light in the room wasn’t blinding anymore but his whole body vibrated to the alarms screaming in his head. Muscles twitched, painfully tight just like years before as the hand slowly stroke his head. “Let’s stop this habit of keeping your hair so short. Let them grow.”
“Sir…”
“It’s an order. Let them grow and cover this horrid scar.”
He told himself to keep breathing, to just stay still and keep breathing when the man’s other hand stroke the patch of ruined and melted skin. He fought to not close his eyes and jerk away, staying painfully still as the hand slid to cup his cheek.
He could barely draw a breath around the knot blocking his throat and he rolled his eyes up to stare at the natborn when his thumb traced a slow arch down his cheek. It hesitated slightly as it reached his lower lip, then continued its path brushing it open.
He could barely hide the shiver that ran through his body at the man’s amused voice. “I have another test in mind. Come, let’s see for real how good you are at following orders.”
---
He felt strangely detatched after what had happened, or he had allowed to happen, in Rampart’s private rooms, but he tried to not think about it as he went on with his day. He tried focusing on the medical check ups, on the practice at the range, on the cleaning of the armor he had beed officially cleared to wear.
Some small part of him still doubted it had happened, the thought had been so alienating that he couldn't really believe that the natborn had blackmailed him into sucking him off.
He clenched his teeth when the speakers called him to the Vice-Admiral’s office once again, after the couple of spoonfuls of soup he had managed to eat after a day spent with no appetite. He sighed standing and abandoning his meal, carrying his bucket under his arm as he made his way to the office.
He stopped at the Vice-Admiral’s door and took a deep steading breath, centering himself before requesting entry. Gooseflesh covered his arms when he stepped inside and saw the natborn, as always coming to stand on attention in front of the desk.
Rampart took his sweet time before acknowledging his presence, then he suddently met his gaze with a cold frown. “CT-9904.”
“Sir.”
“There’s something that was brought to my attention by one of my informants. It regards your previous associates. Your old squad.”
His insides churned at that. He had reported them as KIA, or at least probably killed in the fall of Tipoca city, keeping an open way out of troubles for when they would inevitably reappear on the Empire’s radar. He stared back at the Vice-Admiral, his face carefully blank. “What about them, Sir?”
“It looks like they are not as dead as we thought.” He pressed a button on the holovid on the corner of the desk, and a full body light blue image of Hunter came up. He was wearing civilian clothes, walking in what looked like a busy street, and he could see Wrecker’s bigger figure a few steps behind him. There was a soft smile on his brother’s face, and for a moment he felt totally lost at the longing that filled him.
He knew his expression had softened and forced his face to harden while Rampart continued. “They were spotted rampaging on a couple of backwater planets. Nothing too flashy, but my informants are sure it is them.”
He met and held the man’s gaze without a word, perfectly aware that he was weighting every reaction. Rampart’s brow arched as he waited for an answer, so he confirmed. “That’s Hunter. They must have survived.”
A small smirk curved Rampart’s lips and he relaxed back into his seat. “You must be happy to see them. After watching them die...”
“I didn’t see them die, Sir. I said I presumed they were dead since it was so hard even for me to escape the bombing.”
Rampart’s lips pressed together and he kept his eyes on him, carefully studying his face. He kept staring at the Vice-Admiral in complete silence, until the natborn reached over and pushed a couple of buttons on the holo projector. The blue hologram changed, and his blood froze in his veins.
He watched himself talk to his brothers on the platform, the Maurader in the background. He watched as he turned his back on them and they climbed the ship, then as he turned around to watch them leave.
He swallowed, looking at the hologram replay the scene again and again, until Rampart reached out turned the holo off. The Vice-Admiral sighed, crossing his fingers on the smooth surface of the desk. “I seem to remember that you said you were a soldier of the Empire.”
“I am.”
“Yet this is not what I have seen…”
He growled, loosing his temper for a moment. “Sir, they would be an invaluable asset if we managed to persuade them to join the Empire. They are highly trained Commando. They would…”
“They are traitors. And you would want them to join us even if they left you behind? Even if they left you out there to die?”
He straightened his back a bit. “It wouldn’t matter. They are very useful assets.”
“You would like to have your old squad back.” He didn’t answer to that and Rampart sighed. “I can understand that. Maybe you would even like to be their Commander. I don’t see you seeking vengeance on them but there’s something…” Rampart shook his head slightly, his eyes a mix of suspicion and amusement. “There’s something I cannot seem to get here. But maybe it’s nothing.”
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, leaning back into his chair. “I’ve decided to not pursue them right now. We have all the highly trained Commando we need and catching them would not bring any relevant vantage to me. Not right now.”
He gritted his teeth, his hand clenching around the edge of the bucket. “Sir…”
“It’s already decided, trooper, don’t linger on it. I will not pursue them.” The man’s smirk widened and the gooseflesh on his body spread before he even spoke. “There’s a more pressing matter right now. After what I’ve seen I am wondering where your true loyalty lies.”
He inhaled deeply, holding his breath when Rampart lift his hand to stop him. “I will need something more consistent that just your word, soldier. It’s not like it’s worth much at the moment. I know you still carry something belonging to your old squad with you. Is that true?”
He opened his mouth but no sound came out. There was almost nothing left in his equipment, not that Rampart could know of. The only thing that was left of his brothers was on his skin. He remained silent as Rampart went on. “I know you have a very particular tattoo. On your chest, it would seem.”
“Yes… Sir.”
Rampart’s eyebrows rose as he stood. “Then we need to do something about that. I wouldn’t want the word to go around and the loyalty of one of my best Commando to be questioned.”
He swallowed, his gaze lowering briefly to the carpet while the other man stood and walked to the door to the side of the room. His apartment rooms. “I will go to medical and have it removed, Sir. As soon as possible.”
“Yes, you will have it removed. Come.”
His gaze snapped up, going to the door that opened. He stood where he was, frozen, until Rampart’s eyebrow rose. “This way, CT-9904.”
He forced himself to swallow around the tight knot that formed in his throat, his blood pounding in his ears, and he knew some fear had shown on his face when the Vice-Admiral’s smirk turned even more amused. He made an encouraging gesture with his hand, his voice soft as if he was talking to a child. “Come. You are not afraid, are you?”
Rampart preceded him and he followed, slowly, throwing a glance behind his shoulder. The door to the Vice-Admiral’s office was closed but he could make a run for it and… and then what?
There was nowhere he could run, no one he could run to, just like after what happened that morning. He clenched his jaw turning back, slowly walking to the door Rampart had disappeared into.
He found him waiting, relaxing on the armchair he had sat in the last time he had been in there.
He was thorn between blushing and throwing up when the man spread his legs in his seat letting his palms rub the inside of his thighs, watching him enter with an amused smirk. He stifled an angry growl when his eyes fell on a low table.
A small ordenance mirror and a surgical blade had been placed beside a folded towel, along with a bottle of disinfectant.
He couldn’t seem to make a move, he just stood and stared, one step inside the door that closed at his back. He felt the mechanism lock behind him, and it was Rampart who broke the silence with a sweep of his hand.
“Come on in, but first leave your armor by the door.”
He swallowed hard before growling. “You literally want to take it off my skin here, Sir?!”
“No, CT-9904. I will not touch neither the blade nor that tattoo. This is your loyalty test, not mine. You will do it with your own hands.”
He gave him a disbelieving gaze, feeling the immediate urge to flee when he gestured to the low table. “Come on. The night is long and there are other things I want to turn my attention to.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. I won’t cut off a patch of skin to remove it, why should I?! Medical is perfectly able to do the job without injuring people.”
“You will do it because I said so.”
He stared at Rampart and clenched his jaw, still as a statue by the door until the man stood.
There was something about the way the Vice-Admiral walked and talked that made gooseflesh raise on his body and it was no different as he watched him calmly close the distance between them. “You will obey, clone, because I said so. Because you are a clone and I am your commanding officer. You are Imperial property, barely more than a weapon, and you will do as you are told if you want to stay alive. And even if at some point of your existence you will decide that you don’t want to stay alive anymore, remember that there are others you know who definetly have that intention…”
The natborn lift a pad, holding it just out of his reach. “That holo gave me a very nice idea when it came to me. You still care about the rest of your squad, to the point that you want me to authorize a mission to hunt them down and take them in. Such a good brother you are...” Rampart huffed, amused at his paling face. “When I finally sent my scouts to retrieve you I prepared a protocol in case I decided to retrieve your squad too, the specifics are on this pad. I have the resources and the people to look for them. I have it planned so well that I am confident that I will have them in this very office in a little more than a week once I launch this hunt…” His smirk turned full on sadistic. “You get where this is going? Do I need to explain what I will do to them once they are here?”
His mouth had gone dry while the Vice-Admiral spoke and he took the pad with numb fingers when the natborn finally handed it. He narrowed his eyes at the amount of credits, commando squads and the list of bounty hunters ready to be unleashed. It would have the same effect as placing a multimillionare bounty on their heads and sending the manifesto all across the Outhers Rims.
Rampart was right, they would be lucky to reach the end of the week. And with Omega in the group…
“This is not a top priority project. How can you have so many resources?”
Rampart’s smirk gained an air of superiority. “Amazing what coming from a high nobility Coruscant family and being close to the Emperor’s right hand can do. It’s a pity you don’t even know what having a family and ties is like.”
That jab cut deep in his chest and he swallowed, his gaze returning to the pad. “Why… why are you doing this…?”
He couldn’t help his voice from going rough when Rampart took the pad back, as he stared at him from inches away. “Because I can. And because I enjoy it. And because I have the feeling that despite your differences you would do anything to keep harm from coming to your batch.”
He swallowed hard, holding the other man’s gaze for as long as he could only to finally turn away. He looked off to the side while Rampart tapped the front plate of his armour with his pad. “Remove your armor and put it in the corner. Uncover your chest and go kneel by the table.”
He bowed his head listening to the retreating steps, swallowing hard when he heard him sit on the armchair. He remained still, simply breathing, until the man’s voice returned, lower and more menacing than before. “You have five seconds to move, soldier. Then I’ll consider it a mutiny.”
He took a deep breath, holding it in for a couple of seconds while the man counted, then let it go. He unlocked the magnetic clasp of his chest armour, removing it. He laid it in the corner on the ground, piling the other pieces of his upper armour, only to be stopped. “Take it all off. All of it.”
His jaw clenched and he slowly complied, taking all the time he could to delay it, but in the end he had to sink to his knees in front of the low table. He grabbed the mirror, thinking about ten different ways he could use it to kill the man sitting a couple of meters away from him, lifting his eyes to look at the natborn when the Vice-Admiral chuckled. “You are stalling, soldier. You are not so resolute after all.”
He glared at him placing the open mirror on the surface. He grabbed the blade opening the casing around it, observing it for a moment, considering despite Rampart’s amused chuckle. “I would think about that if I were you. The sensors of this room are set on my vitals. If they were to detect an injury on my person or an increase in stress factor a security protocol will be launched immediately.”
“How courageous…”
“A small assurance.”
He sneered at the man’s smirk, cursing at him in his mind. He couldn’t avoid the situation so he set himself up to complete the task, slipping in the state of mind he used to work on the field, letting the cold part of his mind take care of the matter. He removed the top of his blacks, forcing his lungs to keep on breathing at a steady rythm. He counted in his mind pacing his breathing, reaching for the bottle of disinfectant and the towel almost on automatic. He wiped the patch of inked skin, his hands and the blade, grasping it firmly as he took a last, long steading breath.
He let his eyes roam on the black ink symbol, studying it for the last time before holding his breath. He shoved the mixed pang of anger and regret that started to swell in his chest down, screaming at himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
To be honest, he should have done something about it a long time ago. He put the blade to his skin, pressing until he drew the first drops of blood.
The pain was sharp in such a delicate point, almost as when he had it done. He clenched his teeth, ignoring both the excited groan coming from the man sitting in front of him and the instinct that told him to stop hurting himself, clenching his jaw tighter when his breath started to burn in his lungs. He cut, being careful to keep the blade light enough to not wound the muscle beneath, and soon he exhaled a long breath, the irregular bit of tattoed skin flat in his bloodied palm.
He was panting more harshly than what he thought and lift his eyes as the natborn shifted in his seat. He almost growled at the excited light shining in the gaze fixed on him and his eyes narrowed at the obvious bulge in the man's pants. He clenched his teeth making to stand when Rampart stopped him. “Wait. Bring it over. On your knees.”
He inhaled deeply forcing his fingers to uncurl and let the blade go, crawling on his knees until he knelt between the Vice-Admiral’s spread legs. He knew what he wanted and lift a bloodied hand offering it to him.
“Well done, CT-9904. Your loyalty to the Empire has been proved.” He tried to school his features and not show how disgusted he was by the man’s husky excited tone as he picked up the piece of bloodied skin. “Splendid. You gave me something very special…”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing at the natborn, snatching the towel from the table and pressing it to his chest to stem the flow of blood running down the front of his body. He pressed the fabric to the wound only to narrow his eyes when Rampart rose to his feet.
He walked past him, cradling the piece of tattooed skin in his hand as if it was something really precious. He heard a drawer opening and he looked briefly over his shoulder, turning back to cradle the wound on his chest when he saw him messing around with a small case.
He really didn’t want to know what the sicko was doing and kept pressing to slow the blood flow, stiffening when a warm hand landed on his naked shoulder. “You behaved well, CT-9904. You showed your loyalty and earned a reward I rarely bestow on clones. It will make it easier on you.”
He made to turn and look at him when a sharp pain shot through his neck. His veins swelled as something was injected and he cursed ripping himself from Rampart’s grasp. He took a couple of steps back, enough to put the low table and armchair between them, rubbing at the injection point in his neck. “What did you inject?!”
The Vice-Admiral did nothing but observe him, seemingly unaffected by his growl. His eyes went big at the empty hypo in his hands, and he raised his voice as panic started clawing at him. “What the fuck did you give me?!”
“Hush. It’s unbefitting for a clone to scream like that if it’s not on the field. Don’t fight, just let it work.”
He was panting, his heart pounding as if he had run for miles, and he barely caught himself on the back of the armchair when he swooned. He stared at the ground wide eyed while huge chunks of his strength seemed to drain with each quick breath he took.
His eyes grew even wider when he suddenly found himself sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the back of the armchair, Rampart’s smiling face mere inches away from his. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to make you enjoy this.”
A shiver run through him, and despite trying he couldn’t find the strenght to swat away the hand that settled on his chest. Rampart’s hand slid along his skin, enjoyed exploring every dip and crevasse of his torso, thumb flickering on his nipple, only to slide down to his hip. He gasped when the man’s fingers hooked on the waist of his blacks and pulled it down, uncovering more flesh for the hand to explore. He hissed when the man straddled his legs, but he could do nothing more than turn his face away when he leaned in.
He swallowed hard, panting, clenching his jaw and eyes when hot lips latched on his neck. “No…not this…”
He couldn’t speak louder than a breath and he whimpered at the burning trail of kisses mixed with light bites that made its way from his neck to his cheek. Sharp teeth caught the skin of his cheek and he tried to turn away, only to have his chin caught by steel like fingers.
Hot air slid on his lips one moment before they were covered and his breath was stolen by the mouth devouring his own. He managed to lift a hand placing it on the man’s chest, trying to shove him away, only to have him break the kiss to chuckle on his lips. He was incredibly amused by his weakness, and he could only watch him wipe his lips on the cuff of his jacket, and try and rebel when arms slid around his torso, pulling him to his feet.
Rampart let him go and the mattress rose to grab him, and he managed to lift his arms to try and block the man as he was dragged further in. He grunted as he fought to rip his arm from Rampart’s grasp, growling when it was finally pinned on the soft cover. Something closed around his wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt. He pulled his other arm trying to punch him, only to have it caught and pinned too. Both his wrists were bound to the headboard and he could not stifle the moan that Rampart ripped from his throat when he grabbed his hips pulling them toward him. It forced his body to shift, pulling his arms and back in an arch that had Rampart panting.
“Gods…what a feast…”
He grimaced, trying to struggle while his boots were pulled and thrown away, followed by his lower blacks. A warm hand settled just under his navel dragging down between them until it cupped him. He wasn’t interested in the least but it still massaged and touched, despite the grimace he couldn’t wipe from his face. The weight pinning him down suddenly disappeared and the drug induced sluggishness seemed to settle in its place.
He managed to throw a look to the side of the bed, to where Rampart was undressing. He watched him fold his clothes on the armchair, then retrieved something from a drawer. He averted his gaze when he saw that the man was more than excited, focusing on the ceiling as he prepared for the pain.
He had been trained to survive this. To survive imprisonment and interrogation in hostile territory, and all that it included. His interrogation trainer had been more than happy to teach him what could happen and how bad it could turn out.
He closed his eyes when the warm weight pinned him down once more, hissing when something hot and wet touched the wound on his chest making burning pain explode. It drew his eyes down to lock with Rampart’s gaze as the natborn smirked, fresh blood on his lips. “Looking away is not allowed. You will look at me at all times, or I’ll make sure your brothers are in my holding cells by the end of the week.”
He stared at him, panting, until Rampart’s hand slid around his neck as he hissed. “You will answer: ‘Yes, Sir’…”
He swallowed at his mocking tone, breathing out when he squeezed hard. “Yes…Sir…”
“Good.”
He felt him sit back and kept his eyes vaguely on him, trying not to see as he coated his fingers in a liquid from a small bottle. The hand between his thighs returned sneaking lower, and Rampart waited until he locked gaze to slide a couple of fingers in him. He could do nothing but stare as the man quickly prepared him, clenching his jaw with a groan when it really started to hurt.
The Vice-Admiral didn’t seem to take notice of it, focused as he was to press his lips to the wound on his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek hard when Rampart sat back, hurriedly lubing himself. He fought to keep his breath steady, focusing on counting to keep the pace, even when Rampart grabbed his leg, lifting it over his shoulder.
He knew it was stupid but he felt terribly exposed, and could not keep from growling. “I’ll kill you for this. One day… some day I’ll kill you for this.”
The Vice-Admiral chuckled, his smirk turning full on sadistic. “And here I was being nice and gentle... figures where it takes you when dealing with clones.”
He opened his mouth to retort but any words he had planned to let out was cut short when Rampart’s hips snapped forward and agony exploded blinding him.