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anakin-dovahkiin · 1 year

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You're Not Weak

Summary: Dealing with slimy and stupid men can really put a hole through your self confidence and faith in yourself. Anakin is there for the aftermath. Snuggles ensue.

Notes: Anakin x fem! reader, soft Anakin, clonebois are the best, and f the patriarchy my dudes. Wrote this literally at 3am contemplating life... so if you're in the same spot, you're not alone. ANDDD there's Anakin hugs for you!

You are a Jedi. You are qualified to do what you do. And yet, simply because you’re a woman, you are cast aside and degraded and made fun of for trying to be a leader. It is exhausting that almost every world you travel to has a fricking patriarchal society that makes you want to tear your hair out.

This time, you were explaining your part in the war effort to some leaders of this particular planet. The goal was to convince them to allow the Republic to use some of their abandoned land as an outpost against a possible Separatist threat.

But of course you are not taken seriously.

“And what is your battle experience? Making some rocks float? I doubt with how little you are you could lift much anyway,” one mutters loud enough for everyone present to hear. The other men around him snicker, and you have to resist the urge to Force-choke these assholes because this happens so damn often you’re afraid you’re going to lose it.

Your clone Commander, Emjee, takes a furious step forward but you stop him with a hand to his chest plate.

“I know how to engage in combat, I would not be here if I didn’t,” you try to say as calmly as possible.

“Guess Jedi take anyone these days, even the weak ones,” another one says and the cackling continues.

Emjee tries to step forward again but you continue to hold him back. He instead cracked his knuckles, trying to look as menacing as he could with his helmet still on—you know if he was to take it off, these men would be scared shitless by the clone Commander’s intense glare. He was particularly good at those.

Not as good as Anakin, though.

But he wasn’t here, and you shouldn’t have to need his help to get through to these morons anyway.

Somehow the situation worked itself out—after hours of talking, to the point where Emjee stepped out for a bit—but you couldn’t get rid of that sinking feeling in your stomach as you board the transport back to your command ship.

“Those idiots don’t know what they’re talking about, General,” says Emjee, and he removes his helmet as he does so. “You are one of the strongest Jedi in the Order, and anyone who says otherwise is simply wrong.”

You chuckle. “I don’t know about that, Commander. But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“General Skywalker says it all the time to me and the boys, he’s even got Kenobi singing your praises.”

Your smile fades at the thought. Anakin was so much stronger than you, so much better than you, and if it ever came to a fight you know you would lose. Not that you would ever fight the love of your life, but still. It almost felt… patronizing to think about him trying to boost your ego. You know that wasn’t what he was doing, but after today you can’t help but overanalyze everything any man has ever said to you, even him.

He doesn’t deserve to be placed in the same category as those… dumbasses, and you hate yourself even more for trying to relate him to them.

“Anakin is too nice to me,” you mumble, forgetting to call him ‘General Skywalker’. “And so are you, Emjee.”

The gunship jerks as you dock in the hangar inside your venator class cruiser. You start walking towards your quarters, but Emjee stops you when he taps your shoulder. The Commander still looks a bit peeved by everything, and though you don’t want him to be upset, it warms your heart a bit to see someone angry—besides Anakin—on your behalf, defending you.

(You haven’t seen Anakin in months. Your relationship was a sad little thing because you missed each other terribly every time you separated. You hoped this war would not last forever, that things could go back to the way they were when you could simply exist without something being expected of you. Then, you could be together in the Temple and bask in each other’s light.)

“I… hope I’m not overstepping, Sir, but I contacted General Skywalker while you were negotiating—”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well—”

“I can do this on my own, trooper! I don’t need anyone’s help to do anything, I am perfectly capable—”

“Woah, hey, calm down,” a voice says behind you and warm hands grab your shoulders and a warm presence attempts to meld with your own, but you don’t let it. You feel like you’re being overpowered, undermined, and you know that isn’t happening but you can’t help how much the sinking feeling affects you.

It’s Anakin behind you, and normally you would be resisting the urge to embrace him and squeeze the living daylights out of him. It’s been so long, after all. But right now you just feel cornered.

You shove his arms off of you, unintentionally making a bit of a scene that has other troopers stopping their work and looking at the three of you.

“I am going to meditate. Alone,” you say, and you almost say ‘please’ but you know you do not need to ask for permission. You are no longer a Padawan, you’re a Knight, and you know what you’re doing, even if everyone makes you feel like you don’t.

You walk away out of the hangar towards the elevator. You can hear Anakin behind you talking to Emjee.

“You did the right thing Commander, I’m going to talk to her. Anyway, it’s been a long day for you I’m sure. Rex and Ahsoka and a couple 501st are in the mess if you wanted to see them and grab some food? I can take it from here.”

Your heart lifts a bit at the mention of Ahsoka, but you’re too tired to try and find her. Maybe once you sleep, the sinking feeling won’t be there once you wake up. That was normally how it worked. Anakin was never here for these moments, though. You had no doubt he was going to follow you to your quarters. You didn’t have the patience to wait for him, but you also didn’t have the energy to shut him out.

You’re laying on your bed in your quarters staring at the wall beside you. Sleep eludes you, and it is probably because you can sense Anakin’s presence on the ship. Knowing he is so close but refusing to ignite your bond is honestly a bit petty on your part, but at the moment you don’t really care about being sensible. Your whole relationship wasn’t exactly sensible, anyway.

Your back is to the door so you don’t see Anakin when he enters, but you hear him and hear the door close behind him.

“Would you please look at me please?” he says softly, sitting down on the ground beside your bed.

It makes your heart clench. “You said ‘please’ twice.”

“Because I’m begging to see your beautiful eyes.”

You laugh half-heartedly. “Sure.”

“Please?” he asks again, and the request is so genuine, you can feel its purity and purpose in the Force.

You turn over to meet his pale blue eyes. His hair has grown just a bit longer since the last time you saw him, and you love it. He also must have had a campaign on a rather sunny planet recently because there is an added color to his face that makes him look, well, good and healthy. You feel like a pale blob with dead-ends for hair and a weak, small body.

His eyes widen with genuine love and awe, and he scoots a bit closer.

“There you are,” he says. And that’s where you lose it.

Your face scrunches up as you try to hold back tears but you fail in about two seconds. Anakin hesitates to touch you, waiting for your permission of some kind, and you grant it to him by reaching out your arms for him almost like a baby. It’s humiliating, but it’s just you and Anakin, and he knows you.

He rises from his seated position and crawls into your bed while wrapping his arms around you securely. You weep and cry like a youngling into his chest, and he strokes your head as you shudder with each sob that escapes you. He kisses your forehead every now and again before allowing you to rest your face in the crook of his neck, pressing the bridge of your nose into his pulse-point.

“What happened, my love?” he mumbles against the crown of your head.

“Men, just, underestimating me. It’s like they know I’ve been injured, that I’m weak, unsuccessful—I just, I can’t take it. I… I can’t believe there are people out there who would say those things. But they’re right; I suck, I’m terrible at everything—”

“You are so brave, so strong, the strongest person I know. You’ve been injured in battle, and worked your way back to being on the front lines. You connect to the Force in a way that I wish I could, and I’m part of it! These are just objective facts. I know you, and you are so intelligent, courageous, kind, and just so… so wise. I would be lost without you, and I love you.”

His words bring you comfort, that sinking feeling finally dissipating ever so slowly. “But it shouldn’t bother me this much. I am a Jedi. I have to be better than this.”

“It is something you should never have to experience, and if I had my way, those sleemos would be—”

“Anakin…” you whisper, shifting your head up so you can meet his eyes once again.

He sighs. “You are dealing with this better than I ever could. You know how I would react… you’re so much better than me. I just wish I was worthy of you.”

“You’re my favorite person,” you say, gazing into his beautiful ocean-eyes. You pause for a moment, content to drink your fill of his gaze. Once you are content, you nuzzle into his chest once again. “You’re worthy of so much more than me.”

“No,” he says before pressing another kiss to your head. “I could never be worthy of you, my love. I don’t think anyone ever will, because you are an angel.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around him so you can rub circles into his back. “There you go with your poetic metaphors.”

You can sense his smile in the Force so clearly it’s as if you could see it. “That one isn’t a metaphor.”

“Mhm,” you mumble, smiling to yourself. One of your hands wanders upwards and now you play with his hair and it is so soft between your fingers that you could honestly do this for hours.

He kisses your head once more. “You’re gonna put me to sleep,” he warns, and it makes you giggle a little bit.

“Sleep, then. Force knows you need it.”

“Only if you do,” he says indignantly, but you can hear the sleep in his tone.

“Not to worry. I’m already halfway there,” you say, nuzzling into the warmth of his body again as he pulls you impossibly closer. You almost feel like crying again because of how safe he makes you feel, but you don’t want to worry him. “I love you, Anakin,” you say aloud, but you mostly send the message through your bond in a wave of soft blue and warm yellows.

You think for a minute that he’s asleep already, but you can tell he’s not when he sends you back just as much love and admiration, if not more, through your bond.

A tear that isn’t yours drips onto your face as he says, “I love you so much.”

With your Force presences entwined, you both fall into a blissful sleep and take a much needed rest. Just having Anakin with you like this helps whenever you start to feel that worthless slimy feeling, every single time. It’s like clockwork, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. You love him so much, and you can hear the Force sing in sweet harmony each time you are together. Your sleep is dreamless, but it is full of warmth and a sense of softness. It feels like home.

…

When Ahsoka comes looking for you both because she wants someone to spar with, she checks your quarters first. That’s where Emjee said you both would be, anyway. Not to mention she could sense the bliss and serenity in the Force because of you two from probably a system away.

She opens the door and sees a sight that warms her heart. Both you and Anakin are entwined, both in an embrace and in the Force. He holds you protectively against his chest and your hand rests in his hair. You’re both asleep, and Force knows that as Generals you need it.

Ahsoka knows the rules about attachment. She’s always known her Master struggled with them whenever it came to you. But it was hard to see any reason to keep you apart when the Force sang whenever the two of you were together.

Not to mention, Ahsoka found your “secret” relationship unbearably cute. Anakin always had a front of strength and coldness when leading troops into battle or dealing with enemies, even when talking with other Jedi. But with you, he was himself. Your bond was something she wanted to have for herself one day, and looking at the two of you right now, a thought occurred to the young Togruta.

Your bond needed to stay strong, you needed to stay together, and Ahsoka vowed to herself she would do everything she could to make sure you both remained entwined in the Force like this for as long as possible. She wanted to see both her Master and you happy.

She turned on her heel and closed the door as quietly as the durasteel would allow. Smiling to herself, she tiptoed down the hallway, making her own grand plans about how to uphold her vow.

Maybe Master Kenobi could help her…

650 notes · View notes

freesia-writes · 1 year

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OMFG!!! Congrats on the 500 sweetface!!! That's gotta feel amazing <3

For the prompt, could I possibly have #10 with Fives?

hehehe thanks so much friend! Heeeere you go! Also... these are getting LONGER... I'm concerned that by the time I get to #13 they're gonna be like 10k words, LOL. That being said, hopefully this is a delight! I never realized how nerve-wracking it could be to try to write for someone; you want it to be everything they ever dreamed of but you're a totally separate brain, with only one line to go off of! LOL. And it's so hard to end these! I want to write a whole novel off of each one. ;)

“You shouldn't be with him. You should be… with me." - Fives Word Count: 3.7k Content Warnings: None really Fives x GN!Reader with a boyfriend ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was arrival day, and you were already dreading the agenda that lay ahead of you. Two separate squads and their Venator-class cruisers were scheduled for a quick turnover, requiring immediate service, detailed repairs, and thorough inspection before being ready to go as quickly as possible. Somehow it felt as though it had been happening more often lately, and you were starting to wonder how many of these damn cruisers there were. Your team was starting to chafe against the longer hours and constant pressure, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel -- a few days off, provided there were no unscheduled arrivals that would throw the whole thing out the window.

The first cruiser docked with a whoosh, and the debarkation routine began. The previously-empty platform was suddenly swarming with mechanics, droids, shuttles, officers, and troopers, each headed in their own direction. Your boyfriend jostled your shoulder playfully as your crew headed for the ion engines, walking ahead of you to catch up with some other friends. You offered a feeble smile but weren’t quite sure what he was aiming for. Sometimes he treated you more like a “bro” than his girlfriend, except when he wanted… well… you know. But he had been kind and fun, taking you out to dinner and buying you things often, and while you could suggest quite a few ways you’d like to see things change, you didn’t want to be nit-picky.

You cleared the thoughts from your head as you saw a herd of troopers exiting the ship, a blur of white and blue indicating that it was none other than the 501st. Your face curled into an inexplicable mix of a grimace and a grin, scanning the familiar helmets out of habit. There it was… the tiniest flash of red, in a downward triangle right in the middle… And just like that, it took you back to that night, memories flashing across your mind to the rhythm of your footsteps as you continued distractedly toward the work that lay ahead.

Flashing lights, neon signs. Raucous voices, cheers, laughs. Good conversation, suggestive whispers, the effervescent warmth of liquor in your veins that fueled the anticipation of potential adventure and meaningless fun. The dark hair clenched between your fingers, the heavy breathing, the throes of passion and the gentle, intimate caresses afterward. That simple tattoo, a small 5, that you’d touched and kissed and fallen asleep against…

“Watch it!” A sharp voice broke you out of the replay, and you stumbled sideways as a couple of grumpy pilots made their way past. You could hear laughter up ahead, as your boyfriend and two others watched your distracted mishap. Flipping an obscene gesture their way, you pulled your bag higher up on your shoulder and hurried to catch up. Today was not the day to be daydreaming and dawdling.

What you didn’t see was the lone straggler behind the group of clones, now free of their helmets, exchanging quips and laughs as they headed toward their day of freedom. He shifted on his feet, holding his helmet at his hip, watching you scuttle toward the ship. His brow furrowed, a litany of expressions decorating his face, and he slowly turned to join his brothers, tearing his eyes from you and leaving them on the ground as he made his way to rest and refreshment.

The engines were a hot mess, requiring more than a few trips back to the supply station for some of the most abstract parts you’d ever heard of. What they were doing on this starship, you didn’t know, but they were definitely putting you through your paces when it came to maintaining it. You brushed the hair from your face, christening your forehead with grease, and smacked the maintenance panel shut with a huff. You were already late for lunch, and had skipped breakfast, and therefore were in an absolutely horrible mood.

The mess hall was fairly empty, most having finished their meals and cleared out by now. Your boyfriend had waited for you, surprisingly, chatting with some crewmates and beckoning you over when he caught sight of you with your tray. You slid onto the bench next to him, accepting his sloppy kiss and side hug as he finished the story he was telling, and promptly began stuffing your face with the most unexciting ration bar you’d ever touched. Most of the exciting stuff in the food line had been gone already by the time you went through, including the apples, which were one of your favorite things, even though they seemed plain.

“Whoa, easy girl, they’re not gonna run out of food!” came his playful taunt, and you elbowed him in the ribs in response. You’d initially loved the witty banter between the two of you, but sometimes the jabs had an edge, or didn’t quite land, and you were beginning to tire of it. Your complaints had been brushed off as being “overly-sensitive” or “not being able to take a joke”, so you let it slide, but you didn’t appreciate it quite so much anymore.

As the group of you headed back to the ship for hours of maintenance and inspection, a figure caught your eye on the side of the platform. A clone trooper, still in armor, was heading back toward the ship, scanning the herds of people bustling about their duties. You squinted, drawing closer, wondering why any of them would choose to be here when they had such little time off. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But as you both approached the maintenance hatch, you saw the helmet clearly.

“Fives?” you asked, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. After your [pretty darn awesome] little fling together, you had both enjoyed some conversations here and there, but it had been clear that there wasn’t really any future there… He was constantly being toted around the galaxy, and you… well, you were stuck here. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about it since, though… What it would be like if your lots in life were different. It had been a one-night stand, yes, but there had been substance in your discussion, intriguing glimmers of personality, and a depth, kindness, and intelligence that had really left an impression on you. “What are you doing here?” you continued, watching him turn toward you quickly at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hi. I… I thought I left something on the ship,” he began, pulling his helmet off to reveal those rich brown eyes and sharp features. You began to form a question as to why it would be in the maintenance sector, but he continued quickly, “But while you’re here…” The couple of crew members with you, including your boyfriend, were lingering in the doorway as well, watching the interaction. “They’re doing a crew appreciation thing at 79s tonight, and I just didn’t know if you… all… knew about it. Free snacks and cheap drinks for mechanics and whatnot…”

“That’s awesome,” you said warmly, catching his eye with your soft smile. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Yeah! You… all… deserve it, with all your hard work. Anyway… Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said, eyes roving across the group before he retreated into the expressionless safety of his helmet. He gave you one last nod before turning to head out. You snuck a glance over your shoulder as your team climbed onto the ship, noticing his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as he walked.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” your boyfriend muttered as you exited the taxi in front of 79s.

“Hey. I never get to choose what we do. You said you’d be a good sport. Plus -- free food!” you said enticingly, feeling disproportionately enthused as the neon lights and bumping bass met your senses.

“I know, but a clone bar? I don’t know… isn’t that kind of weird?” he whined, taking your hand begrudgingly as the two of you made your way in the door.

“Why would it be weird?” you said, voice getting louder so he could hear you over the music. But you never heard his reply as the raucous noise of the bar took over.

* * *

“Okay, ‘free snacks’ may have been a bit of an overstatement,” you chuckled, a few drinks and three bags of salty crackers later. The two of you had come to an uneasy truce, settling to play cards and watch the various interactions going on around you. There had been a few arguments, some decent arm wrestling matches, and a general spirit of joviality that was infectious. Well, to you, at least. The music shifted to something right up your alley, and you rose to your feet, holding a hand out. Your boyfriend took it, with the tiniest of eye rolls, and followed you downstairs to the dance floor, making a quick swerve last minute to order two shots at the bar. You laughed, reaching a hand out, but he gulped one down, and then the other, to your shock and slight disappointment.

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you back toward the dancers. It was an improvement to his mood, at least, though you’d be talking about the rudeness of the act later, for sure. The dance floor was particularly full tonight; a number of ships had reported back to Coruscant at once, making for a diverse and colorful crowd. That familiar warm, tingly feeling was flowing through your veins and you smiled, letting the music fill your mind and flow through your body.

* * *

“Yoo hoo!” came the taunting call as Jesse waved his hand in front of Fives’ face. “Did you seriously just drift off mid-sentence? Man, that clanker must have hit your head harder than we thought, eh Kix?”

“That brain was damaged long before that,” Kix answered, running a hand over his closely-shaved hair and intricate skull tattoos. Jesse’s laughter was joined by Hardcase and Echo, who were reclining in the large booth with the rest of their brothers.

“Sorry -- got distracted,” Fives muttered, shaking his head and looking back to his squad. The conversation continued, with quips and jabs, as well as heroic tales that expanded each time they were told, but he couldn’t stop glancing off to the side. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor, appearing between the bodies all around you and then disappearing again into the crowd. There was a funny clenching feeling in his chest, as he remembered the scent of your hair, the darkness of your eyes, and the little gasp that had accompanied the way you moaned his name… Suddenly there was a funny feeling under his codpiece as well, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on whatever joke Hardcase was completely botching at the moment.

The dance floor cleared a little bit, giving him an unobstructed view of you, though he wasn’t sure if it were an improvement or not. Your boyfriend had decided that now was as good a time as any to try to grind on your backside like an adolescent horn dog, and you kept trying to shift to a more natural and fun way of dancing together but he was persistent. And getting a bit gropey. Finally, you gave up, and Fives watched as you left the dance floor, stalking to the refresher in a huff. The boyfriend slumped over to the other end of the bar, toppling onto a stool and waving to the bartender.

“Be right back,” Fives said, scooting out the side of the booth. “Refresher,” he muttered in response to the questioning glances, and was quickly forgotten as he edged down the packed hallway. He lurked awkwardly outside the doors for a few minutes, wishing he’d come up with a better plan, when you finally reappeared, sending a little jolt of energy down his spine.

“You made it!” he said with a clearly forced brightness, startling you out of your rumination.

“Yeah,” you answered, any joy at seeing him dulled by the disappointment of how it was all going.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head with apparent concern on his face. The way the hair on his chin accentuated the expression was adorable, and his interest lifted your spirits a little.

“Sorry, yeah,” you answered, getting jostled to the side of the hallway as a group went past. “Long day at work, regular life troubles, you know. Nothing crazy like the stuff you have to face.”

“Hm. From what I hear, getting shot at might be preferable to that sometimes,” Fives muttered, arching an eyebrow with a little sparkle in his eye. That got a genuine laugh out of you, which changed the whole mood of the interaction immediately.

“What is TAKING you so long?” came a belligerent voice, as “boyfriend” came staggering up behind Fives. “This guy bothering you?” he asked, jabbing a thumb at Fives, who wrinkled his nose in disdain at the pathetic creature next to him.

“No, we were just chatting,” you said quickly, noting the edge of the voice and the clumsy movements. He clearly didn’t recognize Fives, despite him having been the one to invite you here, a detail that was not lost on the clone, who gave you a look that couldn’t have been more plain -- really?

“Alright, well let’s go,” said the boyfriend, who wasn’t worth even giving a name, and he reached for your hand, giving it a sharp tug, which pulled you right across Fives, who found a sudden urge to grab you right back and tell this little womp rat to scurry off into a hole somewhere. You paused for a moment, turning back to face Fives, whose intense gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks for thinking of us,” you said, giving one last smile before being whisked toward the door.

* * *

The next day was not going well. You hadn’t slept much at all, tossing and turning with all kinds of thoughts and considerations that kept you from any sort of real rest. The boyfriend seemed to be in a crappy state as well, rubbing his head and squinting at the bright light as he worked next to you. There was a distinct tension building between the two of you, and you knew it was going to come to a head. It would be good, because there were things that needed to be said and addressed and changed and dealt with, but you weren’t one to look forward to conflict. Neither was he, so the two of you puttered about your mechanical duties until it was about lunchtime, when you set your wrench down with the intention of getting to the mess hall on time for once.

Alas, fate was not on your side. The walk between the shipyard and the cafeteria was just enough time to get into a huge fight with your boyfriend about last night, which ballooned to include topics like drinking, respect, joking, autonomy, and all sorts of other things. It was a hot mess, and while you tried to keep it civil, you were both tired, frustrated, and clearly triggered. By the time you got to the mess hall, it had reached the breaking point, and you turned to flee for solitude, tears streaming down your face, as he yelled criticisms after you, much to the surprise of quite a few onlookers.

You found a supply closet, smashing your hand on the keypad so the door would whoosh closed behind you, silently cursing the fact that you couldn’t slam it. You threw an arm up against the wall, resting your forehead against it and burying your face in the cool grey metal, surrounded by shelves and the whirring fans of the ventilation ducts above your head. You wanted to cry, but now you couldn’t, which somehow made you feel even worse. There were so many emotions, it was impossible to sort them out. You were frustrated with the situation, angry at yourself for tolerating so much, confused why there couldn’t be a middle ground, and despair at the aching pain of yet another failed relationship. Or had it failed? You felt sick to your stomach at the thought that, knowing you, it might just get patched up and continued, with hopes that this time it would be different. Were you really so stupid?

The door slid open, and you flattened against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would find their supplies and leave without even noticing you were there. But when it closed, and no footsteps were heard, you shifted slightly to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone had come in at all. To your surprise, a fully-armored clone stood just inside the door, ducking his head to peer through the many shelves that lined the walls, making the rather large closet feel incredibly small and claustrophobic.

“Fives?” you said in disbelief, leaning out from the shelves you’d crammed yourself between.

He let a single curse word fly as he jumped to the side, knocking over a stand full of brooms and mops, sending them all clattering to the ground as he frantically tried to regain his footing. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling as though you’d already emptied yourself of all the crying and anger and pain. He stood tall, righting his crooked helmet, and cleared his throat, staring at you from within the helmet.

“You scared the kriff out of me,” he said, modulated voice still sounding a bit shaky.

“Sorry?” you answered, having no idea how to go about this conversation with all that had transpired. “Why are you coming in a supply closet?”

“I heard you…” he said quietly, pulling his helmet off now and setting it on a shelf nearby. “I wanted to see if… if everything was alright.” His face was earnest, but there was a nervousness to his gaze and stance.

“Ugh,” came your ashamed response at the spectacle you’d provided in the halls. “It’s fine. Or it will be. I don’t know. This isn’t really how I usually am…” Why were you explaining yourself to him? Perhaps it was because he was the first person to seem to truly listen to you and care about you in a while. Perhaps you felt a need to justify yourself. Or perhaps you were still just reeling from it all.

“And how are you, usually?” he asked, taking a step closer and leaning against the shelf next to you. “You seemed quite a bit more lighthearted when we…” he drifted off, grasping his hands together.

“It’s just been a long week,” you offered, shrugging it off.

“Are you happy?” he said suddenly, with a confidence that came out of nowhere. His chin lifted slightly as he regarded you. “I know we didn’t know each other very long, but in what time we did have together, it was clear that you are incredibly intelligent, witty, and fun. In more ways than one,” he added, hoping the insinuation would bring some levity. It did bring a tiny smirk to your face, as you wiped some leftover tears from one eye, thinking about the slightly adventurous escapade you’d enjoyed. But it was quickly overwhelmed by confusion at his words.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I… I didn’t just forget about you, you know,” he said, swallowing and pausing for a moment. “I figured you weren’t interested in anything else, and I was shipped off…”

“And now you’re back to judge my choices?” you snapped, shocked at your own vehemence. Clearly, you’d been on your last straw… about six straws ago… He straightened in surprise, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No! I just…” he stopped again, lowering his hands slowly and taking a deep breath before speaking in a quiet, solid voice.

“You shouldn’t be with him. You should be… with me.”

His amber eyes were locked on yours, simultaneously intense and kind, confident and vulnerable. You were reeling at his words, mouth slightly open. You were sorry for your sharpness, sorry for your assumptions… And sorry for your choices as well. The way he put himself out there had a wildly disarming effect on you, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he say something like that when you were clearly a mess?

He closed the space between you, slowly approaching with tentative caution, and lifted a hand to your face. His hands were rough yet gentle as he cupped your cheek, eyes growing larger as he took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’ll respect your choices, always. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and seeing you here… seeing the way he treats you… I just… I had to say something.”

You searched for the right words to say, but could find none, instead closing your eyes and nestling into his warm hand. A single tear squeezed out and rolled down your cheek, falling to your shoulder in silence. He continued, voice softer now, “I know I don’t have anything to offer you… no stability, no future, nothing. But you deserve better than… that… at least… And I’d like to do my best… while I can.”

You lifted your hand to his, pressing into it as though you could communicate your overwhelming emotions through a single touch. A small smile curved the corner of your lips, and you felt a sudden freedom at the prospect stretching out before you. Opening your eyes, you felt as though your chest would explode as you saw his face, so close to yours, so earnest in his affection and admittance, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, grateful, hopeful kiss. His sharp inhale was quickly followed by the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against the shelf behind. When you finally came up for air, you leaned your forehead against his, a thousand questions held back by the simple savoring of the moment.

“Fives,” you whispered, and his heart leapt at the way you said his name, “I’m a mess.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in again, lips brushing yours as he answered, “Well I’d love it if you’d be my mess.”

#star wars the clone wars #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #fives #clone trooper fives #fives x you #fives x reader #fives fanfic #fives fanfiction #fives lives #tcw fanfic #clone fanfiction #clone fanfic #clone fanfics #clone x reader #clone x you

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yeehawhijack · 24 days

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Physically I’m in corporate America. Mentally I’m in a Venator-class Star Destroyer (Republic Attack Cruiser)

#the bad batch #tbb season 3 #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #the clone wars #tbb hemlock #the clones #star wars the bad batch #star wars tcw #starwars #star wars

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queen-breha-organa · 2 years

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So I’ve always had this theory that Wolffe was a Marshal Commander before the Malevolence attack.

Most Clones who serve with members of the Jedi High Council are Marshal Commanders, and usually command Sector Armies or System Armies.

Yet Wolffe is only listed as a Commander, and we know little about his position before the Malevolence, since that attack happened in the very very beginning of the War.

So I decided to do a little investigating.

In the book (now Legends) Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Warfare, it mentions that only members of the Jedi High Council serve as leaders of a System Army.

Overall there are almost always twelve members of the Jedi High Council, and only Ten System Armies, meaning that two members of the Council do not command a System Army.

This book also mentions that anything more than a Corps (36,846 Clones) is commanded by a Clone Marshal Commander.

While investigating the Malevolence, Plo Koon takes an entire fleet with him. His fleet is named in canon as “Plo Koon’s Fleet” and is led by Plo’s flagship “Triumphant”. Since the fleet is named after him, it’s reasonable to assume that this is part of Plo’s command, and not borrowed from another Sector or System Army.

This fleet is composed of three Venator-class cruisers, which can hold approximately 7,400 personnel and an additional 2,000 troops (16,00 Clones).

This means altogether each ship can hold 23,400 Clones at a time, this also means that Plo Koon’s fleet held around 70,200 Clones.

Which means Wolffe was most likely a Marshal Commander at the beginning of the War.

It also means that he was most likely demoted to Commander after 70,197 Clones died in his care.

We know that although the Wolfpack Battalion serve under Plo Koon, they don’t formally fit into the GAR structure.

They don’t serve any System Army.

They have no Clone Marshal Commander.

Perhaps it’s because they used to be their own System or Sector Army.

Perhaps it’s because they used to have their own Clone Marshal Commander.

Not anymore though.

They just have a Commander now.

But it’s easier to command a battalion.

It’s easier to keep them close.

It’s easier to keep them safe.

#I’m still on break but this has been in my head for weeks now #Star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #swtcw #commander wolffe

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questforgalas · 1 year

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In Brothers I Trust

Summary: On their way back to Coruscant after the events of Umbara, Anakin and Rex find comfort in sharing old memories and promises of brotherhood

Notes: This started as an idea to tell about Anakin and Rex's first meeting and then it just spiraled from there whoopsie. For some reason I love making Season 7 of TCW and the march on the temple even more painful for myself, so the last bit with Anakin's pledge and the promise of the 501st staying together is meant to directly foreshadow the events of ROTS. Thanks for reading!!! Comments and feedback greatly appreciated!!!!

Warnings/Tags: Angst comfort, post-Umbara Arc

Word count: 3.6K

Tay's Masterlist

On AO3

“Figured I’d find you here,” Anakin announced himself walking through the door into the meditation chamber.

Some might find it strange that meditation chambers were standard on most Venators. When thinking of a war class cruiser, meditation is usually on the bottom of the list when going through the necessary functions in order to win a war, but when Jedi are involved, the activity tends to make its way to the top. Hence, meditation chambers on every Venator.

What certainly wouldn’t surprise anyone is that Anakin Skywalker’s is the least used in the GAR. The haze of grey on its ledges is less to do with a design choice by the general and more to do with a dust layer that is rarely disturbed. That said, the chamber doesn’t go neglected. They may not be Jedi, but some troopers have found a retreat within the beige and wooden walls.

That’s where Rex found himself now, relishing in the rare experience that was complete silence. He didn’t meditate. That wasn’t a tool taught on Kamino, but Rex so rarely experienced complete silence that he found himself seeking out the solitary chamber after missions that, well, stayed with him a little longer. If he was honest with himself, it was more because he didn’t have the energy to face his brothers, knowing they’d look to him for comfort that he wasn’t sure he could offer. So, solitary-beige-completely-silent-Jedi-meditation chamber became his refuge. Or so it was, until Anakin Skywalker walked in.

Rex didn’t recover from his leaned position against the chamber wall immediately. They weren’t on duty, and, silently, Rex was annoyed that his hiding place was being disturbed. With half-hearted hope, he kept his eyes closed for a few beats longer wishing Anakin would get the hint. When the tell-tale “whoosh” of the door didn’t sound again, Rex internally sighed while opening his eyes and taking in his general next to him. Two years serving under Skywalker, and Rex is still impressed when the Jedi appears next to him almost like he came out of the walls. The silence a jedi could move with was unnerving, and at least now Rex was familiar enough with it that he didn’t react when his general or commander appeared by his side. To his annoyance, he knows Ahsoka owns some memories from early on of him throwing a datapad or two in the air out of surprise thanks to her.

“Sir,” he greeted Anakin. “What can I do for ya?”

“We’re not on duty Rex. You can drop the formality,” Anakin responded. He mimicked Rex’s relaxed position, putting his lower back against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankle. Folding his arms in front of him, he relaxed his shoulders and dipped his head towards Rex, amused twinkle in his eye.

“I feel too much like Kenobi when I call you Anakin,” chuckled Rex.

“Is that because it’s usually with a hint of exasperation?” Anakin lightly jabbed.

“Me? Exasperated sir? Never. Especially with your plans,” Rex joked back. He appreciated having a relationship with his general that allowed the banter. The battles that the 501st were often sent on required unconditional trust between Anakin and Rex in order to bring as many of his brothers back alive as possible, and the brotherhood that seamlessly formed between the two of them was effortless. Although, Rex remembers a time when a Jedi like Anakin was the least probable match he’d pick for himself.

As a cadet, he’d hear stories of the Jedi from his trainers, but the powerful warriors with the ability to manipulate the energy around them remained a figment of imagination until he was 10 years old. There was a ripple of energy throughout Kamino when word got out that a Jedi finally arrived to inspect the clone army. Rex remembers making his way to grab something to eat after running through his third simulation that day. His exhaustion was so heavy he was sure that any trooper looking at him would see it pulsing off of him in waves. Trudging through the hallways, making it to the mess hall door, he almost missed the hushed whispers coming from a group of young cadets.

“He showed up an hour ago. Been with Lama Su this whole time. I saw him!”

“You didn’t see him! He wasn’t anywhere near the strategy center.”

“Did too! Gave a quick look up when my eyes started crossin’. Caught him in the hallway. Looked like a drowned womprat, not a Jedi.”

“You’ve never even seen a womprat!”

The group made its way out of Rex’s earshot, but not before he caught that mythical word. Jedi. His exhaustion disappeared as if he’d been injected with a bacta shot. Quickly, he scanned the room to find a batch mate or familiar brother, but he was able to catch site of a table full of troopers huddled close together, whispering animatedly. Rex made sure to walk by the table on his way to the conveyor hoping to catch the hushed conversation, and sure enough, the words “Jedi” and “visit” were caught again and again. So, they were finally here.

“Good,” thought Rex. “Hopefully that means no more simulations soon.”

Apparently, Fate and Rex had a different definition of soon because while he was thinking in the upcoming months, Fate was thinking one rotation. The next day he was on a Venator making his way to Geonosis with his blood buzzing for a fight, and the desert planet didn’t disappoint. By the end of the battle, Rex’s white armor could barely be seen under the rusty red dust, and his count was close to 60, but exhaustion hadn’t settled in his bones yet so he joined some brothers chatting animatedly by the barracks’ entrance.

“Rex! Heck of a first battle, huh? Saw you taking a few of those bugs down, good job brother. Maybe they’ll even give you your own company soon!” Tat exclaimed. A gentle punch to his shoulder greeted Rex as he joined the group. He rolled his eyes at Tat’s antics hoping to play off the excitement the idea of leading his own company gave him.

“Not too bad yourself Tat. Saw you up there with one of the Jedi. Mace Windu, right? Easy to spot him with his purple laser sword,” Rex said.

“Lightsaber. They’re called lightsabers,” another trooper, Proto, corrected. “The Jedi are very particular about their weapons.”

“Yeah, well I heard two of them tracked down and engaged Count Dooku. Dooku made it out, and one of the Jedi lost his hand,” Tat relayed to the group. “Pretty gutsy if you ask me. I heard these sith aren’t anything to trifle with. Only one Jedi alive has beaten one in 1000 years – one of the ones that went after Dooku.”

A skilled enough warrior to take on not one but two sith? Rex liked the sound of that. The troopers were yet to be assigned their Jedi generals, but Rex hoped he was lucky enough to be assigned to a Jedi with that level of combat and tactical skill.

“What about the one who lost his hand?” Rex asked. “Did he make it?”

“He’s fine. Reports say he rushed in alone. Tried to take on Dooku himself. Just a padawan too, which I think is like a cadet. So, not exactly the smartest move,” Tat answered.

Impulsive, young, inexperienced. Rex ticked off all the reasons in his mind he’d want any Jedi but that one. Or, so he thought.

Back in the meditation chamber on the Resolute, Rex chuckled to himself thinking about the last joke Fate had up her sleeve for him. Newly knighted Anakin Skywalker was appointed general to the 501st legion shortly after Geonosis. There was a rumor he was told as his mechanical hand was being attached, but Rex knew better than to listen to barrack gossip. Besides, at the same time, he was being fitted for his pauldron indicating his new status as captain of the 501st. He had more important matters to pay attention to.

“Do you remember when we first met, sir?” Rex broke the silence that had settled over them. An amused laugh escaped Anakin.

“Do I ever,” Anakin answered. “Sometimes I still think our files got mixed up somehow. That you were supposed to be with Aayla Secura instead of Anakin Skywalker. Or really, anyone else.” Anakin moved to the cushioned bench to his left as he spoke. Once settled in, he looked up at Rex. “Why do you ask?” he inquired.

“Just sifting through some memories. I heard about you before I met you, which now doesn’t seem all that surprising. More like the authentic Skywalker experience,” Rex supplied. “It was after Geonosis. The first battle. I was back onboard the Venator when some brothers were swapping battle reports. That’s when I heard about the Jedi padawan who tried to take on Dooku alone. Lost a hand for it.”

“I was about to be knighted,” Anakin grumbled under his breath. A deep laugh made its way out of Rex. Of course the small detail of still being a padawan is what Anakin would hold onto. As unpredictable as Anakin’s battle strategies could be, he was the most predictable person Rex knew.

“I’m sure your hand shares the sentiment,” Rex joked.

“If you ask me, it’s an improvement. If I hadn’t rushed Dooku, I’d never have this amazing advantage. All worked out in the end,” Anakin said.

Chuckling, Rex continued his walk down memory lane, “Well, as I stood and listened to the tale of the two Jedi who took on Dooku, I thought to myself ‘Maker please, whatever you decide for me, just don’t let it be the padawan’. The more I heard about your, er, strategy decisions, the more bacta I needed for my growing headache.”

Now it was Anakin’s turn to laugh, “I’m insulted Rex. I’d think my creative thinking would be a plus for winning over commanding officers.”

Unable to hold in their laughter after Anakin’s comment, Rex made his way to sit on the ground, staying relaxed against the wall. One arm propped on a bent knee and one leg stretched out, Rex felt himself starting to relax for the first time since leaving Umbaran space.

“I’m trying to picture you pitching one of your battle plans to Wolffe,” Rex mused.

“Even I have my limits, Rex. I tried to crack a joke to Wolffe once. I’m pretty sure if his eye had a laser, I would’ve had an unplanned haircut,” Anakin said.

“He’s not so bad, once you’re on his good side. Which usually takes a couple years,” Rex admitted. Another comfortable silence settled between them, but after a few moments, Anakin spoke up.

“I remember when I was assigned the 501st. It felt like my padawan braid was cut, and in the same breath I was being told I’m leading a battalion. I didn’t know what that meant – I had to go to the archives right after to look up what a battalion even was. What I did know is that I was now in charge of 1000s of lives. That in a heartbeat, I was responsible for keeping men I hadn’t even met yet alive.” Anakin was leaning on his knees, absentmindedly rubbing his chin with his left hand. It was a move Rex was familiar with, telling him when his general was deep in thought. “It was the most afraid I’ve felt since the day Qui-Gon Jinn took me from Tatooine. I know, not very jedi of me. But the idea of failing my troopers, knowing that if my decisions went wrong it didn’t just mean a bad day for them, nearly crippled me. Then I heard about my commanding officer,” Anakin said. “’Top of his class, he’s the youngest commanding officer. He’s one of the best strategists in the army, and his playbook has yet to be beat. Even by the commanders and the ARCs. He’s impressive Anakin, I think you’ll be in good hands,’ Obi-Wan told me. I’m sure he could sense my anxiety, so of course he took it upon himself to help me. Looking back, I think he was more reassuring himself that someone else was going to be around to have me in check since we were going to be separated,” Anakin finished his thought with a chuckle.

Rex was never one to bask in compliments. He was a soldier, a commanding officer. It was his job to develop top strategies, train his men, and execute plans flawlessly, or as close to flawlessly as they could. His job was to win battles, so he never saw the point in being patted on the back for doing his job. His brothers were soldiers expected to follow orders, so he found every opportunity he could to highlight their achievements and express his pride in their hard work. But himself? He was just doing his job. So, to sit still and not cringe as Anakin spoke took most of his self-control.

Rex’s internal nightmare was gratefully cut short though, “Want to know what I thought once Obi-Wan was done rambling?”

“That you were the luckiest Jedi alive?” Rex went along.

“That I’d rather be stuck in a nest of gundarks than be stuck with such a stuffy, by-the-book commanding officer,” Anakin answered with a smirk. “I thought my nightmare was confirmed when I met you at the GAR base the first time. I was convinced you were a statue – you didn’t move a muscle. If you hadn’t jolted to a salute at the last second, I was going to poke you to make sure you were real.”

A deep laugh escaped Rex. When Anakin met his eyes, he joined in.

“In my defense, sir, I was operating off of 10 years of being told about the stoic, rule abiding Jedi. Who was I to make a bad impression by not following protocol?” Rex joked at himself.

“Rex, a stiff salute is one thing. The next seven minutes of protocol formalities and strategy briefing is another,” quipped Anakin.

“It was not seven minutes.”

“Oh Rex. It was seven minutes. Believe me, I counted every agonizing one.”

That earned Anakin an eye roll. “If I remember correctly, sir, you weren’t bored by me by the end of our meeting.”

“No Rex, I certainly wasn’t. Before you could drone into minute eight of your rambling,” Rex was jostled by a gentle shove to his shoulder, “I deftly turned the topic of conversation to our next battle, Christophsis. There I was, relaying my first ever battle strategy to my captain, and when I was finished, I admittedly was a little smug with myself. I mean, it was a sure win. I stood there waiting for you to respond, but you just…kept standing there. I thought you became a statue again. After what felt like forever, you finally responded,” Anakin said with a smile taking over his face.

“’Well sir, I understand better how you lost your hand if that’s what you consider a plan.’” Rex finished for him. “Honestly sir, listening to your strategy was my 7 minutes of protocol hell. I couldn’t decide if I was having a harder time understanding your strategy or understanding how someone could actually come up with that plan.”

“Yeah well, I hope my stunned silence gave you enough amusement for a couple rotations. Granted, the relief I felt that you weren’t some stuffy, clone replica of Master Windu gave me my first glimmer of hope since Geonosis. I knew you were exactly who I’d want by my side. I haven’t been wrong since,” Anakin murmured to himself.

Rex could feel Anakin’s stare so he turned to meet his general’s eyes which he noticed had taken on a melancholy softness. He knew what was coming next, and in a feeble attempt at holding the inevitable at bay, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall trying to block out the reality around him. As usual, Fate and he were not on the same page.

“Rex, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t left, if I had listened to my instincts instead of listening to Krell, I would’ve been there with you. We would’ve executed our plans and you boys wouldn’t have had to go through that hell,” Anakin’s voice infiltrated Rex’s dark solitude.

“With all due respect sir, it doesn’t matter now. You’d be the first to tell me not to dwell on it. That it won’t help the men,” he answered.

“Is that why you’re hiding in the meditation chamber instead of being in the mess hall right now?”

Rex and Anakin’s comradery was special, but Rex really hated it in these instances when he really needed Anakin to not know him as well as he knew himself.

“It’s not hiding. It’s quiet reflection. I figured you being a Jedi and all would understand,” Rex deflected. Anakin’s gaze didn’t falter, and Rex let out a long sigh he’d been holding since the general walked in. Stubborn as usual, Anakin wasn’t going to let this drop. “The casualties are one thing, sir. Sadly, we’ve seen worse, and we were engineered to handle the loss of our brothers. Not to say it’s easy, we mourn them all in our way, but it was a reality we were trained 10 years for. But we also heard about our Jedi commanding officers for 10 years. The peacekeepers of the galaxy who valued life above all else. As long as we had a Jedi with us, we could do anything. The Jedi would protect us.”

While he spoke, Anakin finally broke his stare and let his head hang taking in Rex’s words. This wasn’t news to him – Anakin and Rex had spoken before about how the clones revered the Jedi after a decade of stories – but it didn’t make it any easier to hear just how deep Krell’s betrayal cut the troopers.

“I can’t promise anything, Rex. I don’t want to offer false oaths to patch up deeper wounds. But as long as I can help it, I’ll never leave you and the boys to battle on your own. The 501st is strongest together, and that includes me. No one is taking me away from you guys again,” Anakin swore. The intensity with which Anakin looked at Rex held every ounce of fear and sadness the general had been harboring since he heard the news, and Rex felt his words wrap around him as if they were tattooed on his soul. It was one of the many reasons the 501st would follow Skywalker straight into Castle Serenno if ever needed without question – they knew their general was as loyal to them as they were to each other, and loyalty means everything to the clones.

“We’re honored to serve with you, sir. All those years of hearing about the Jedi, and none of those stories live up to the real thing. You, Kenobi, General Koon, all of you. You surpass legends,” Rex declared. Some moments passed and eventually, Anakin’s expression softened, his signature smug smirk taking its usual place.

“So, should I expect some nose art tributes in the near future?” he joked.

“Oh, did Fives not show you his designs featuring General Kenobi?” Rex quipped back.

Anakin mocked insult at the insinuation, “You’d give tribute to Obi-Wan before me, your beloved general? You wound me Rex, after all the times I’ve gotten you lot out of trouble.”

“Quit turning a blind eye to Fives and Ahsoka’s pranks, and I might consider letting Appo draw something up for you,” Rex responded.

“Ok fair. You deserve that much,” Anakin conceded. He gave a quick crack of his neck before continuing, “You feeling up for leaving this isolation nightmare?”

“Really not a fan of meditation huh?”

“Obi-Wan tried. Pretty sure he’d live in meditation if he could. Just was never my thing. Reminds me too much of the time alone I’d spend in the shop I worked in as a kid. Surround me with my friends, and my soul will heal just the same.”

“I’ll lock you in a room with Dogma and Fives and see if you feel the same way after.”

With a soft chuckle, Anakin stood with a stretch to his stiff limbs. “Alright, enough torture threats. It’s time to be a general and a captain. When I passed by the mess earlier, Fives was trying his best to keep things light, but he could certainly use some back up.”

Accepting that his retreat of solitude was at an end, Rex made his way to his feet preparing for the uphill battle that will be the return to Coruscant. “If I know my men, sir, they don’t need a captain and a general right now. They need a brother and a friend,” Rex spoke softly, and when Anakin didn’t answer or move right away, he looked up to see the Jedi staring pensively at the floor.

“What about two brothers?” Anakin asked quietly, his head cocked to the side in thought.

“They’d like that very much, sir,” Rex answered without hesitation. With his bucket tucked under his arm, Rex started for the door, and Anakin fell in beside him with the ease of a dance they’d performed 1000 times before. Umbara was going to leave its scars, and the ones they couldn’t see will take the longest to fade, if they ever did. But like Anakin said, as long as the 501st sticks together, everything will be fine.

#tay writes #the clone wars #captain rex #anakin skywalker #501st legion #501st #umbara #umbara arc #comfort #bit of angst #angst comfort #brotherly fluff #brotherly moments #anakin and rex

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empiregothic · 1 year

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#empire gothic #star wars #star wars the bad batch #the solitary clone #droid army #separatist army #destroy malevolence #venator class cruiser #Desix #alien planet #citadel

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exceptionally-minded · 1 year

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User Interfaces

A Graphical User Interface (GUI) is a digital interface in which a user interacts with graphical components such as icons, buttons, and menus. Visual elements represent actions users can take, objects that users can manipulate, and other information relevant to the user.

Experienced professionals such as myself typically interact via a CUI: (alternately Character/Conversational) User Interface. These operating systems implement a command-line interface in a shell for interactive access to operating system functions or services. This model removes the graphical component - to - instruction step, because I am able to input those commands directly.

Perhaps it would be easier to explain this by showing a user give instruction to a computer without any intermediary translation steps. Due to his modifications, Echo is able to bypass several intermediary layers and connect directly to hardware. (below the cut)

Seen here, he directly communicates with a scomp port aboard a Venator-class cruiser, activating the environment controls within seconds. If this had been my task, I would utilize a data spike to which I would send commands through individually written lines of code on my datapad.

#tech talk #thank you for coming to my tech talk

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ariadnes-red-thread · 1 year

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The Last Word: Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: THE WOLVES

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Flashback to a week before, Mal is faced with a big decision that could alter her life drastically. But is she ready to leave the safety of the Wolfpack and face the hard questions that she’s been hiding from?

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of Umbara/past trauma

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: The Wolves by Ben Howard

A/N: No Fives this time, but lots of our other favorites, I promise :) Thank you so much for all of the support on Chapter One! I never could have imagined how loving and positive the response would be. Excited to share more of this story with you all! As always, comments, likes, feedback, and reblogs are always so appreciated!

Ao3

Taglist

The transfer talk had started a week earlier. Four Venator-class Star Destroyers lingered as a fleet in the Expanse Region, the armies recollecting while their generals strategized and regrouped. Mal kept busy organizing the medbay. She and the 104th’s clone medic, Crux, worked in silence as they tried hard not to think about why they were all gathered in the depths of space and not on their scheduled leave.

The first sign that something was wrong had been Plo Koon. The General, normally extremely patient and even-tempered, even by Jedi standards, stormed onto the bridge with a thunderous call to attention. He pulled Wolffe away for a meeting that lasted hours. The first anyone heard from them was a crackling summons for Sinker and Comet. The venom in Wolffe’s voice, clear even over the comm, sent a chill down Mal’s spine. She’d never heard him like that, not even after Abregado. The officers disappeared, and the meeting dragged on for even longer. Mal waited with Crux, Wildfire, and Boost. They crouched around a communicator listening to the rumors that began to trickle in from other ships over private lines; stories of brothers killing brothers under orders, horrors that the clones couldn’t imagine.

Mal, on the other hand, felt her heart begin to race as they listened. She knew horrors like these. They were the ones that haunted her nightmares and sometimes her waking moments, like ghosts that hung over her shoulders, their weight ladened with guilt. She never imagined terrors like this could reach her - or her friends - here, in the Republic army, far from the Separatists and surrounded by an army of brothers. She gripped the edge of the seat to stop her hands from shaking. When the comms finally went silent, no one spoke.

Before anyone could find the words, the meeting adjourned, and the officers were back on the deck. It seemed whatever fury had been burning before had subsided. They all looked heavy now, older. It was the oddest on Wolffe. Though he usually chose his words carefully, the stoic quietness that had overtaken the usually grumbling Commander was new and darker. Sinker barked the orders instead. The Jedi cruiser immediately made its jump to the Expanse region to gather with other Republic ships.

Three days passed before Mal saw Wolffe again. He locked himself in his office and didn’t respond to comms. Mal checked on him through Sinker, who made sure that he was eating for her. Satisfied that Sinker was doing his best to pester the Commander into taking care of himself, Mal found boredom creeping up on her without anyone to patch up. She and Crux did their best to stay distracted. The medbay had never looked cleaner. When Mal wasn’t restocking med packs or refilling bacta containers, she was organizing games of sabacc. Sabacc had always been a source of comfort for Mal, and it had been a downtime staple of the 104th since she joined. With the minimal stipends the clones got, Mal never let them play for real credits. Usually, they used ration bars or scraps of flimsi. It made it more fun anyway. There was more laughter and teasing, with nothing really on the line. Nothing on the line was a nice change of pace.

This afternoon’s game came about during a lull in after-lunch chores. Mal, Comet, Wildfire, Sinker, Crux, and Boost were huddled in a circle in the men’s barracks. Mal was in the middle of a roll when Wolffe called. The dice tumbled from her hand just as the comm on her wrist beeped, its final notes drowned out by a collective groan at the numbers she rolled. When Mal answered, Wolffe’s voice met her ears and brought a smile to her face. It was back to being its recognizable gruff timbre.

“Mal, get in here.” He snapped before he cut the call.

The message was short and to the point, as his comms always were. Mal knew she’d find him in his office, and before she could wonder why she was being summoned, the other clones began to make low whistles.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Comet chuckled.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Boost shook his head at her with a paternal smile.

“Don’t worry, ad’ika. We’ll have Crux ready the medbay for after your chewing out.” Sinker elbowed the medic next to him, who quickly shuffled his cards away from the trooper and glared.

“The Jedi are probably finally giving me a medal for putting up with you all.” Mal sighed as she threw down her own cards.

Sinker leaned over the table, abandoning any pretense of subtlety, to stare at her hand before his gaze snapped back up to Mal. His jaw hung open, and betrayal was written all over his face.

“You’re a liar!” Sinker called out.

“It’s called bluffing. I know you’re not familiar with it.” She winked at him before she turned, leaving the rest of the soldiers to tease their brother about his bad sabacc face.

Mal wound the dark halls of the Venator until she reached Wolffe’s office. As the blast door slid open, she knew she’d find the Commander bent over a desk covered in flimsi, holos, and datapads. Mal had offered to clean it for him time and time again. Still, Wolffe always rolled his eyes at her and said it was organized to him, usually throwing in some colorful adjectives along the way. Mal wasn’t expecting an unfamiliar clone to be waiting with him.

The new clone, a captain according to the rank on his chest, sat in one of the two chairs across from Wolffe, his left hand resting on the chair arm and the right laid on the helmet that was perched atop his knee. Mal quickly saluted the familiar yet unfamiliar man. She wasn’t officially military, not like the clones. Civilian medics were a subset of the GAR, but she held no rank, and the field training had been practically shameful. The role was created so there would be extra hands to help the clone medics and the medical droids in the medbay and the medbay only.

Though she might not be officially GAR, Mal didn’t mind the military aspects of the job. The structure and the order of everything had seeped into her blood quickly. A part of Mal loved it. Craved it even. It felt safe. She just couldn’t stand being told what to do, not since Takodana. Luckily, Wolffe never minded if Mal took a little creative license with her scope. From the beginning, he had encouraged Crux to take her with him into the field. He respected her experience, and she also suspected that Wolffe knew she liked the intensity and distraction of it all, even if they never talked about it. It was one of the ways they were similar.

The captain smiled as Mal paused in the doorway. He had close-cropped blonde hair and brown eyes that twinkled even in the cabin’s dim light. She found that she liked the man right away. He radiated kindness, not a meek, differential kindness, but the warm kindness that comes from a confident, caring heart.

“Yes, sir?” Mal lingered at the entrance in case she had misunderstood the summons.

“You’re suddenly all polite in front of company?” Wolffe winked his cybernetic eye at her, his brown one bright with glee. Mal instantly relaxed. “Have a seat. Captain Rex and I were talking about you.”

“You must be the Captain Rex talking about me.” She flashed a smile at the man as she settled into the third chair. “Nice to meet you.”

“My vod always had a talent for introductions.” He grinned at his brother, bringing a familiar scowl to Wolffe’s face. “I promise it was only good things.”

Mal glanced back and forth between the officers. When neither of them spoke again, her curiosity got the better of her.

“So, what’s going on?”

Rex’s eyes flicked to Wolffe. When the Commander didn’t speak, his brow seemed to set in determination. He turned back to Mal, facing her fully.

“I was asking the Commander if you might be open to a transfer.”

A black hole could have opened up and swallowed her at that moment, and she wouldn’t have been more surprised. Mal’s eyes flitted to Wolffe, hoping to see some sort of anger or shock that another battalion was trying to steal her away, but she saw nothing. That stung. She always knew Wolffe was less openly emotional about his attachment to her than the rest of the 104th, but Mal still thought their relationship meant something to him. She certainly never thought he’d push her out.

“I’m sorry to ask.” Rex quickly added, reading the shock on her face. “I wouldn’t like the idea of leaving my men either. Truth is, my troop is short on medics. I promoted my man Coric to CMO, leaving my Torrent Company with only one primary medic. And uh, frankly, we’re a little too reckless for that.”

Mal pulled her attention from the cool commander and back to the captain with the soft eyes. She could deal with Wolffe later.

“Wolffe brags about you all the time to the other COs. Figured if I was gonna go searching for a civilian medic, I might as well try to get the best.” Rex drummed his fingers on his helmet as he spoke.

Mal blushed at the statement before she quickly searched the Captain’s face. She was looking for flattery, but his smile was unwaveringly genuine.

“I promise you I’ll think about it,” she assured Rex. It was a lie, and Mal felt a pang of guilt after seeing how earnest he was.

“All I can ask.” Rex stood, tucking his helmet into his hip. “I need to get back to my ship. Can’t leave those di’kute unsupervised for too long.”

He let out a half-exasperated chuckle to himself before he nodded to her and then saluted the Commander. Rex turned on his heel without another word and marched from the room. Mal waited until the door was sealed shut behind him.

“What the hell, Wolffe?” She snapped as she spun back to him. “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

Wolffe leaned back in his chair as he raised an amused eyebrow at her, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. It was the look he always gave Mal when she got feisty with him. He enjoyed her hot-headed nature and entertained it the same way a loth wolf would tolerate the play-fighting of a pup. His lackadaisical response to her fury often made her laugh and soothed her, but sometimes, it irritated Mal, especially when she was really pissed off. This was one of those times.

“After everything, you’re just gonna ship me out?” Mal felt her voice start to rise as fear bubbled in her chest. She shifted to the edge of her seat, the world suddenly a little unsteady. “You’ve got to be kidding. This is bantha shit.”

“Settle down, ad’ika. I’m not kicking you out.” Wolffe crossed his arms, his voice even. “I’ve already found that you’re impossible to get rid of.”

“Fuck you.” Mal fired right back at him before she paused. His little quip helped temper the panic, but frustration still seethed from her. “Then what the hell?”

“Look,” He leaned forward, his voice dropping a half an octave. “Rex is with the 501st.”

Mal gasped, despite herself. Everyone in the GAR had heard of the 501st, the famously brave and infamously bold legion that fought under the command of General Anakin Skywalker. Stories of their more creative battle plans were told over shots of spotchka. In the last week, however, their name had been uttered in hushed tones and horrified whispers as the stories of what had happened on Umbara last week spread throughout the GAR.

“He was so…” She thought about Captain Rex’s smile. “... kind.”

“Always has been. Rex is the best of us.” He spoke without affection as though it were a fact. “The bravest, the most creative, the boldest. Even while he’s hurting right now, he’s only thinking of his men. For better or for worse. I think you can relate to him. In more ways than one.”

Wolffe settled back into his chair as he let the inference in his words sink in. The already small durasteel office seemed to shrink, closing in on Mal as she shifted in her seat.

“From the stories, they were tricked on Umbara.” Her heart began to pound at the implication. “Not controlled.”

“Didn’t say it was the same, ad’ika. Just said you might be able to relate.”

Mal’s frown deepened. Finally, when she didn’t speak, Wolffe rolled his eyes and sighed. She knew it was at her refusal to admit he might be on to something, but when he started again, his voice was softer than she had heard in a long time.

“Look, I know I don’t say it a lot, but I don’t know what we would have done without after….” Wolffe trailed off. Mal knew what he meant. He coughed. “You rescued Sinker, Boost, and me way back then.”

A silence filled the room for a moment as memories overwhelmed them both. The war had felt like years, but the weight of those early days never felt less heavy, especially if they looked directly at them.

“You rescued me first,” she quickly replied, giving him a small smile.

“Us finding you was luck, Mal.” He said firmly. “You came back, and you brought mirjahaal with you.”

Mal knew what he was implying. She had worked hard in the days and months after Grevious’ attack to make sure that the remnants of the 104th healed or at least knew that they would eventually heal, inside and out. It was the least that she could do. They had done the same for her not long before. And it seemed like Wolffe thought she could do the same for the 501st.

“I don’t know them.” She frowned.

“But I know you, and I think you can help them.”

“How can you ask me to leave you? To leave Sinker and Boost? After everything?” Her voice was starting to rise again.

“Because I owe Rex that. We all do.”

Mal didn’t say anything. What Wolffe was asking her - to leave the only family she had left- was impossible, and he should know it.

“It’s not just about the 501st, though. There’s another reason I think you should at least consider it.” Wolffe’s eyes narrowed, the white and amber iris each focused on her. Suddenly, the air was tense, and Mal felt bare before her old friend. “I didn’t say anything to Rex, but this is also your chance for answers… if you still want them.”

Answers. She hadn’t thought about answers in a long time. Defense bubbled up in her chest. Of course, she still wanted them. Wolffe had to know that. She looked at him, half-pleading. His scar. Before Khorm. That was the last time they had talked about this. Before Khorm. Mal’s heart began to sink as she realized that it had been almost a year since she had looked into any of her leads. She didn’t realize it had been so long. What had happened to her family was easier to push down and push aside while she busied herself with making war. She pretended that fighting the Separatists was enough. She had ignored her oath to find out why everyone was dead, and she was ignoring the debt she owed them. She’d gotten comfortable. The oxygen was suddenly scarce as Mal tried to inhale. Cadex and Tynan’s faces flashed before her, their green eyes staring blankly into hers.

Wolffe cleared his throat again, pulling her back to the present. Breath flooded her lungs as Wolffe waited. She mustered up the courage to respond.

“I do.” Mal finally answered.

“Then take the transfer,” Wolffe repeated. “I will follow General Plo until I die, but his methods are slower… more precise. Skywalker will get you where you want to be.”

She didn’t say anything, the flame of defensiveness wetted by her guilt. It had been over two years, and she hadn’t gotten any closer to finding out what had happened or why. Mal had brought her story to General Plo Koon after she had first been rescued. The Kel Dor listened with interest and promised he would help. She knew he meant it, but the war raged on, and nothing had come of it. Wolffe was right. It was time for answers, and she needed to find a Jedi ready to help. She needed a Jedi who would be a little reckless.

“The decision is up to you.” Wolffe shook his head, finally breaking eye contact for a moment, just enough to let her breathe again. He brought his hands down to the desk, a tell-tale sign that he was closing the subject. “But you should know I wouldn’t give up my favorite medic unless I had a reason.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mal said as she stood.

This time, she meant it.

Mal tried to think about it as she made her way to the mess hall, but the annoyance that had dissipated under Wolffe’s gaze was beginning to bubble up again. How dare he try to talk her into leaving? This was her family, the only one she had anymore, and she belonged here. A feeling of betrayal settled like a rock into the pit of her stomach as she collected whatever slop the GAR was serving. She sought out her friends quickly.

Mal spotted Crux first. The clone medic stood out with his shaved head, the practical choice he once told her, and the GAR medical sigil tattooed on the back of his neck. Sitting with him were two other unmistakable heads, one of silver and the other decorated with two long, maroon strips.

“Why the long face?” Boost asked as Mal set her tray on the table and plopped down on the bench across from him.

She told them about the transfer. She gave them Rex’s offer and Wolffe’s logic, and then she told them all the reasons she was furious. This was her home. Her family. She waited for them to be mad for her. She waited for the cries of outrage. They never came.

“‘S not a bad idea.” Boost rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced over at Sinker.

Mal followed his gaze to see Sinker nodding. She snapped her head to her fellow medic, looking for support, but next to her, Crux shrugged in agreement.

“What is this?” She threw her arms up in the air. “Is everyone trying to get rid of me?”

“No one’s trying to get rid of you, ad’ika.” Boost quickly tried to assure her.

“Yeah, that’s impossible. We already tried.” Sinker snickered.

“That’s what Wolffe said, too,” Mal grumbled, shooting a glare at Sinker as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Neither of you are funny.”

“Look, be mad all you want.” Boost answered as he dove back into his meal, the shock of the news immediately wearing off in the face of a rapidly cooling dinner. “But Wolffe is right. If you want to be in the middle of the action, if you want answers, and you want ‘em quickly, the 501st is the place to be. And a spot with them isn’t going to open up every week.”

“You never know with their casualty numbers.”

Sinker chuckled again as Boost shot him the glare this time. Boost shook his head at his brother before he turned his attention back to his meal. He sliced a piece of his protein cube off and found it with his fork before he turned back to Mal, waving his skewered food like a lightsaber.

“It’s your call to make, but the fact that Captain Rex asked for you is a compliment. You’re a damn good medic, and you’ve worked hard to get here. Done a lot for us clones in the 104th along the way. Now it’s time to get what you want. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

You deserve to be happy.

“Tye would have told you to do it,” Sinker added, his joking tone suddenly gone.

Mal didn’t respond to that. She didn’t even look at Sinker. Instead, she turned to Crux, trying to ignore how her skin was starting to crawl.

“What do you think?”

The 104th’s medic was quiet, momentarily assessing as he always did.

“It makes sense.” Crux finally spoke. “Will we be short a medic for the time being? Yes, but the 501st has far higher mortality numbers than we do. Strategically, they need you more.”

“Aw shucks, just saw you’ll miss me.” Mal elbowed the stiff medic.

He grinned back.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

The conversation quickly turned to other subjects, but food quickly disappeared, and the meal wound down. As they gathered their trays and empty cups, She and Crux said their goodbyes to the other two before they started to wander back to the medbay. Mal waited until they were in the empty halls to broach the subject again

She and Crux hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Their first few months together had been particularly rough. He didn’t trust her as a civilian, and she resented him for… well, for not being Tye. But it had been a long time since then. His even temper and logic in the face of blaster fire and carnage were a perfect balance to her emotionally charged reactions. He was the only one besides Wolffe who would know what the right answer was.

“Really, what do you think?” She slid her hands into the pockets of the grey jumpsuit as she prodded the stoic medic again.

“You really want to know?”

“I asked.” She shrugged, her long gently red braid bouncing on her shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I’ve fallen into that trap before, Mal.” Crux chuckled, and Mal knew that one of any number of memories of heated arguments was on his mind. “You don’t usually like being told what to do.”

“I just want your advice,” She said, “as a friend, not as my medic CO.”

“Alright.” Crux sighed before he spoke. “I think that, despite what it feels like right now, this war isn’t going to go on forever. You have to take the opportunities you’re given. Take it from a clone.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. Crux continued a few steps, not realizing he was leaving his companion before he looked to his side and found the space empty. He paused and turned back to where his words had stopped her in her tracks. Shame burned her cheeks. Here she was, oscillating over choices that gave her a power in her future that the clones rarely saw.

“I’m sorry, Crux, I-”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Mal.” He shook his head as he quickly cut her off. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just offering a different perspective. I don’t want to see you miss your chance to change your path.”

Mal bit her lip as she nodded, digging her hands further into her pockets. Crux gave her a small smile.

“Go get some rest, Mal. I’ll finish up in the medbay.”

Mal didn’t realize how exhausted she felt until she stripped off the jumpsuit, let her hair loose, and pulled on sweatpants and a sweater. It had sunk into her bones and laid heavy there. Still, neither rest nor clarity found Mal when she crawled into bed. As the lights flickered off on the living quarters of the Star Destroyer, Mal lay in a lonely lower bunk in the small and otherwise empty civilian barracks. The idea of a transfer had taken root in her head, and it was sprouting. She wished she was back on Coruscant, something that she rarely felt. Still, Mal missed the dingy local pool that she and Tye had found on the 576th level the week after she had moved into her off-base apartment. She wanted to swim. The future was always clearer in the water.

Instead, Mal stared up at the dim metal of the top bunk. The thought of leaving the 104th still made her pulse quicken and her breath rise. Leaving this battalion would be more than a transfer. It would be losing her family again. She owed her life to Sinker, Boost, and Wolffe. She had been with them when they had to rebuild. The idea of not having their back or them not having hers was devastating. Who would patch them up? Who would make sure that Wolffe ate something or that Comet slept?

Mal turned on her side, eyes looking out into the impenetrable dark. It was overwhelming. She was usually grateful that she didn’t have to share the bunk with anyone. She didn’t have to worry about upsetting them when the nightmares came, and she had always appreciated solitude. Tonight, Mal would have liked someone to talk to, though. She thought about comm-ing Wolffe or Crux, but a growing part of her realized that the one person she really wanted to talk to was Tye.

Tye. In the span of a lifetime, she’d only known him for a fraction of it, but he had a clarity and purpose that she’d never seen in anyone. She could use that clarity right now. The last time she remembered having it was when she made the decision to join the GAR as a medic so she could help the 104th. She had needed to give something back to all of the Wolfpack, but her debt to Tye weighed heaviest on her, and it was one she couldn’t repay. Not anymore. He was a corpse floating somewhere out in the Abregado system. All she could do was look after his brothers and hope it was enough. Now Wolffe was telling her his brothers needed help. Maybe this was what she needed to do to keep repaying that debt.

And then there was the promise of answers. Wolffe was right. Mal had pushed that quest aside for a long time, focusing on the day-to-day battle instead of the questions always in the back of her mind. If this was the chance to finally find out what happened to her family, she had to take it. She owed it to herself and them, another debt to the dead. A hand wandered up to her temple and traced a familiar path into her hairline until it found the raised skin that lay beneath her auburn roots. Mal ran her fingertips over the small incision, long since healed and hidden. It had been hidden long enough. It was time for answers.

Sleep crept up on Mal like a nexu, springing out at her from the darkness and wrestling her mind into the abyss. She didn’t have any nightmares that night.

Mal woke up the next morning feeling rested in a way she couldn't remember being since before the war when rainy nights on Takodana would turn into bright mornings where the sun-kissed dew would fall from the overgrown canopy. Those mornings when she would take her boat to the lake and patrol the waterways were the last time she remembered having this kind of purpose. Despite the uncertainty ahead, it was fortifying.

Mal took a quick sonic shower in her private fresher before she braided her hair and pulled on her gray jumpsuit. She glanced in the long mirror as she ran her fingers over the 104th's emblem on her chest. She traced the aurebesh numbers and the small wolf emblem. With deft fingers, Mal took the pin from the fabric and pocketed it.

She stepped out of the fresher, and immediately went to see Wolffe. The hallways were filled with familiar faces and greetings, and she savored every one of them. Wildfire met her with her morning caf. They took it the same - one sugar, one cream - and after continuously switching cups in briefings, he finally just started to bring Mal her own, with an M on the lid. She surprised him with a hug as she took it and promised she would meet him at breakfast in a little bit. There was something she had to do.

The caf tasted even sweeter today, and Mal smiled as she sipped on on the warm drink. She clasped her hands around the cup as she found herself stopping before Wolffe's office again. The blast door loomed before her for a moment. She knew that there were things on the other side that she might not like. There were no answers that would save her from her sins. One hand left its grip on the cup so she could run her fingers over the cool durasteel, tracing the fine lines until she found the control panel. Mal typed in the code she knew by heart, and the door slid open. An affectionate smile crossed her lips when she spotted Wolffe. He was sitting behind his desk as he always did, behind a mound of flimsi and nose buried in a datapad. She realized she would miss his messy desk.

“I’ll do it,” Mal quickly spoke, not giving herself even a second to change her mind.

Wolffe kept typing.

“Our leave next week overlaps with the 501st. We’ll make the transition then.”

“You already talked to Rex.” She huffed. It wasn’t a question.

He finally looked up from the datapad with a sly grin.

“I knew you’d say yes.”

Mal shook her head at the Commander as she rolled her eyes and sighed at his arrogance. The annoyance didn’t reach her eyes, though. With nothing else to discuss, Mal turned to go. Before she could make it to the door, Wolffe spoke again.

“You made the hard choice, Mal,” Wolffe called. “He’d be proud.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. She could ignore Sinker when he brought up Tye, but she couldn’t ignore Wolffe. Mal turned to him with an attempt at a smile, even though she knew it likely looked like a grimace.

“I know.”

“They all would be. Your father, Cadex, and Tynan too.”

Mal’s eyes widened as the names left her friend’s mouth. Wolffe never mentioned her family directly. Even though he knew more about her than anyone else alive, he’d always respected her privacy. Bile began to rise in Mal’s throat. Could she still make them proud? She tried to nod to Wolffe. She stiffly lowered her chin just a little before she spun on her heel and double-timed her way back to her barrack. All along the way, a voice chased her.

You deserve to be happy.

It wasn't until she reached the mess hall that her ears stopped ringing, the noise of the hungry clones a reprieve from the thunderous voices in her head. Wildfire waved her over to a table, and Mal pushed aside Wolffe's final words. No one knew what she deserved, but she was ready to find out.

When Mal finally stepped onto the hangar of the 501st battalion, the morning’s distress had evaporated along with any remnants of a hangover. She had closed the book on her mistake. The clone, Fives, was a mirage now. He was nothing more than a memory at this point, a reaffirmation of her rules, and eventually, once the shame wore off, an embarrassing story for her to tell Sinker and Boost the next time she saw them. Mal had real things to worry about now.

Though the hangover may have been gone, the headache seemed to come right back as she stepped into the sea of blue and white troopers. Her new blue jumpsuit, swapped for her old grey one, matched the armor of the men who marched by her, but there were no signs of recognition. They swarmed around her, looking at their datapads, at each other, looking anywhere but at the nat-born who had just entered their realm. There were no greetings or hugs. There was no Boost to slap her on the back, no Sinker launching an airborne assault of loving insults in salute, no Wildfire with her morning caf. She shifted, all alone amid the Grand Army of the Republic. For the first time in a long time, the machine of the GAR ground on around Mal.

“Mal!” A friendly voice called out from behind her.

She spun immediately, thirsting for anything familiar. A vague feeling of disappointment settled in her gut as she realized the voice was attached to a pair of rapidly approaching jaig eyes.

Stop it. She chastised herself. You agreed to this. Time to make the most of it.

So Mal tucked away the ache and waved at the approaching man. He pulled his helmet from his head, revealing a sideways smile. Captain Rex held his hand out to her before he chirped over the din of the GAR’s machinations.

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @sleepingsun501 @kaminocasey @baba-fett @wild-karrde @rexxdjarin @hugtherocks @lunaastars @clonecyaree @thefact0rygirl @wizardofrozz @jesjestraverse @fordo-kixed-rex @padmeromanoffs @xopancakeox @shellshooked @writingbylee @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamonds

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