#cady writes

It is time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions: who are you? And what do you want?

Uncle Iroh, “Avatar: The Last Airbender”

Howzer groaned softly, trying not to shift too much or risk further irritating the strained muscles in his back and shoulders. The chains above his head clanked slightly as his arms shifted.

His whole body ached from the taser rod the Commander had used on him earlier, and he felt his muscles twitch minutely every few minutes. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since they dragged him to the cell and chained his arms to the wall above his head, treating him like some feral animal, but he figured it had to have been at least a few hours, maybe a day.

Howzer found that once you were in enough pain everywhere on your person, it was a little hard to keep track of the time passing.

He could barely even notice the hunger pains now.

He lifted his head when he heard the ray shield deactivate, unsurprised to see the Commander enter his cell. He had a familiar taser rod with him, but it was powered off and looped into his belt. He knew better than to think that meant the other man wouldn’t use it.

As the Commander moved to stand in front of him, Howzer lifted his head to stare into the green visor.

“What are the rebels planning on Ryloth?”

The Commander’s voice was soft. Smooth. In any other situation, Howzer might be tempted to say it was soothing..

“Howzer,” he grunted, glaring at the visor, “Captain. Grand Army of the Republic. Designation CT-7569.”

With an irritated growl, the commander pulled the baton from his belt and it crackled to life with electricity.

“Where are Cham and Eleni Syndulla?”

Yeah. Not so soothing now.

“Howzer,” Howzer smirked, “Captain. Grand Army of the Republic. Designation CT-7569.”

He closed his eyes and waited for the shock he knew was coming. When instead he heard the baton power off, he opened his eyes and watched in confusion as the Commander simply turned and deactivated the ray shield before walking out without a word.

~

He came back the next day.

At least, Howzer thought it was the next day. For all he knew it could have been a few hours. It could have been a week. Time passed differently when you were being beaten to the brink of unconsciousness in a dark, windowless room buried in the side of a mountain.

He came back an undetermined amount of time later. Really, Howzer wasn’t sure what they thought the skinny guy with an electro baton and a modified firepuncher could do to get him to talk that kriffin’ commandos couldn’t, but Howzer could admire his tenacity.

“Can we skip the song and dance this time?” Howzer asked, his voice hoarse. “I’m not telling you anything, you electrocute me, blah blah blah—“

He cut himself off as the Commander threw something down on the ground between his knees. Looking down he saw a tiny tube of bacta gel.

He stared down at it for a long moment.

“Is this a new form of torture you’re trying? Because I admit, I don’t--“

He barely noticed the Commander press a button on his vambrace, not until he heard the click of the chains disengaging from his cuffs. He didn’t get his arms down in time to catch himself as he crumbled under his own weight, face-planting onto the ground with a quiet groan.

He was trying to push himself back up to his knees when the other man finally spoke.

“Better use that quickly.”

Once Howzer finally managed to get his arms underneath him without shaking he looked up at the man.

“What?”

He could practically see the Commander roll his eyes beneath his helmet.

“The bacta.”

He glanced down at the tube laying seemingly innocently on the ground.

“This isn’t a trick, right?”

The Commander sighed, clearly getting impatient.

“What could I possibly gain from doing that?”

“I don’t know,” Howzer mumbled, sitting up fully with a loud grunt. “I don’t know how you Empire types get your rocks off.”

“If you’re going to use it, get moving.” He checked something on his vambrace. “You have 3 minutes and 27 seconds.”

Howzer sighed, carefully opening the bacta tube and squeezing some of the gel out onto his finger.

“What is this? Good cop, bad cop?” He rubbed the bacta along his split lip, hissing as it burned. “I don’t think you’re doing it right. You’re not supposed to be both.”

The Commander said nothing, simply stood and stared down at Howzer with his arms crossed, hip cocked. He seemed completely unbothered, like he had all the time in the world to wait around for whatever it was he came in looking for.

It was a little difficult applying bacta with his hands still cuffed together, but he put a little bit in all the bleeding and stinging places he could reach — split lip, split eyebrow, black eye, the works. It was a tiny tube, barely enough to handle a small burn, but Howzer supposed the fact that he was given any at all meant that he was meant to shut up and be grateful.

Well. Keeli always said he had a big mouth.

“So, you do this for all the prisoners, or am I just special?”

The Commander tipped his head down to look at Howzer, the only indication he got that the other man was listening to him. Howzer thought he looked almost amused, but not in a friendly way. More like a tooka who was amused by its dinner trying to escape before they bit its head off.

“Wouldn’t want to make the others jealous,” he added, struggling to put the cap back on the tube. He would kill to be able to put some of the stuff on his wrists where the cuffs had chaffed his skin after holding him up on the wall for so long, but the angle was too awkward. He had a feeling the Commander wouldn’t help if asked.

He slowly put the tube back on the ground and sat back on his hunches.

“Is this the part where you undo everything I just fixed by punching me?”

The Commander picked up the bacta tube and shoved it back into his belt. He leaned down to grab Howzer’s wrists, shoving them against the wall above him. Ignoring Howzer’s pained yelp, he grabbed the chains and reattached them to the cuffs.

That done he turned and pressed a button on his vambrace, bringing down the ray shield before stepping through. Immediately behind him the shield went back up and he walked away without a backwards glance.

“Good talk,” Howzer grumbled under his breath, glaring at the door.

~

The next time the Commander came in, he didn’t have his firepuncher or his helmet.

“Hey, good lookin’,” Howzer smirked. “Come here often?”

He didn’t even have time to think before the chains were disengaging and he collapsed onto the floor.

“Okay,” he groaned, pushing himself up. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Once he’d pushed himself onto his knees, the Commander pulled something from his belt and threw it at the ground in front of him.

“You could just hand it to me,” Howzer muttered under his breath. He turned the object over in his hands.

A ration bar.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking up at the Commander, eyebrow raised in question.

The Commander rolled his eyes. “It’s not poisoned.”

“And I should just trust your word on that?”

The Commander just stared at him looking vaguely irritated.

“You are my prisoner,” he said dryly, nodding to the chains hanging from the wall. “If I wanted you dead, by now, you would be.”

Okay, fair point. Howzer had wondered multiple times why he was even still around by this point. It had been months since his arrest and despite continuously refusing to give up information, he still hadn’t been executed. Tortured to the brink, maybe, but he was still alive. Maybe the Commander was his saving grace — maybe he was only still around because the Commander wanted a play-thing and he found confusing the hell out of Howzer to be entertaining.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful or not.

“Well,” he said weakly, fumbling to open the packaging under the man’s intense stare, “at least you got my favorite flavor.”

He nibbled slowly at the bar, pushing through the pain in his lips and his jaw because he was never sure when the Empire would deign to feed him again.

“Where are Cham and Eleni Syndulla?”

Howzer sighed deeply, looking up to meet the man’s eyes. His face was carefully blank, giving away nothing as he stared down at Howzer’s pathetic attempt at eating.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

The Commander stared back.

“I don’t know,” Howzer said finally, fiddling with the now empty wrapper. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be playing his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t be letting his captors know that the only useful bit of information he could offer them, possibly the only reason they were keeping him alive, he didn’t have.

The Commander nodded.

“I believe you,” he said. He didn’t move from his leaned position on the wall.

Howzer stared up at the other man, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He really didn’t understand what to think of the Commander.  This man was the reason Howzer had been arrested back on Ryloth. This man was the reason he was trapped here on this base, being tortured for information he didn’t even have. Even the few times they worked together on Ryloth, the Commander barely spoke to him, and was always glaring and angry about something. He remembered the look on his face when Rampart threatened to replace him with Howzer, when Rampart questioned the man’s ability to successfully complete his mission to find Hera. He could feel the disdain in his glare and knew the Commander hated him for some reason.

Now everything about him seemed contradictory. His demeanor always screamed that anything he did for Howzer was an inconvenience, like taking care of an irritating pet. While he didn’t get violent, the Commander sure didn’t have any issue shoving Howzer around a bit, letting him feel pain, letting him remain chained to the wall like an animal. And he didn’t seem inclined to get his Empire buddies to lighten up on the near daily beatdowns.

Yet at the same time, the Commander was being almost… kind to him, in the most simple way. He was still treated like a prisoner first, kept in chains and given the bare minimum of care to stay alive. No one else brought him food or water except a prison droid every few days. No one bothered to help him with his injuries, brought bacta to prevent infection. No one else talked to him or acknowledged that he was a living, breathing person. But the Commander did. The Commander had to be doing it all at some risk to himself, as well. It was more than anyone else in this base was doing for him.

It didn’t exactly endear Howzer to the man, but he couldn’t lie — his time as a prisoner had gotten a bit easier to handle with the Commander around. Seeing another clone, a clone who wasn’t just beating the oi’sk out of him every day, was refreshing. Comforting, almost.

But it was weird, and Howzer wasn’t sure he should trust it. Knew he shouldn’t trust it. It was probably just a trick by the Empire to get his defenses down, a long-run ploy to get what they wanted from him. The Commander hadn’t been kind to him before on Ryloth, and he hadn’t had any compunctions about what Rampart was doing to him up to now. The kind behavior was almost more unsettling than the torture and the beatings, and maybe that was supposed to be the point. Maybe they were trying to rattle him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked finally.

There was a flash of some emotion on the Commander’s face, but it was gone before he could decipher what it was.

Wordlessly the Commander stepped forward and held out his hand. Howzer stared at it blankly before placing the empty ration bar wrapper in the man’s open palm.

He didn’t say anything as the Commander shoved the wrapper into a pocket, reaching down to take Howzer’s hands and reattach the cuffs to the chains on the wall. All Howzer could do was watch the man walk away, wondering what the hell was going on inside his head.

~

It carried on like this for a while — the Commander would come in, sometimes armed, sometimes not, and would bring something to throw at Howzer after he let him fall to the floor. Typically it was just a ration bar or canteen with water, sometimes another small tube of bacta gel, and on one memorable occasion, a cool, wet rag to wipe his face with after one interrogation session left him particularly bloodied up.

Every time it confused the hell out of Howzer. He couldn’t figure out what the Commander got out of this. He was starting to simply chalk it up to some elaborate manipulation by the Empire to get him to spill his guts. Have everyone else treat him like shit, but let the clone commander be kind to him. Maybe with enough kindness he’d grow to trust the commander, maybe he’d be inclined to open up and share what he was hiding.

It wouldn’t work, obviously. He had no information to give that they didn’t already know — he had nothing to hide.

But kudos for ingenuity, he supposed.

The Commander very rarely made conversation with him, preferring to just stand over him and watch him struggle to eat or apply bacta to his multitude of wounds. Once or twice he’d asked about the Syndullas, about other insurgent groups on Ryloth, if he had any links to the building rebel forces. When prompted he assured Howzer that he wasn’t trying to poison him with whatever he brought. But beyond the occasional huff, rolled eyes, and the general air of irritation, the Commander tended to just show up, throw things at Howzer, and then leave again once he’d reattached the chains to his cuffs.

Finally, one day the Commander showed up agitated. His helmet was back on and his breathing was too carefully controlled to be natural. He tried to hide it, but Howzer could see the way he kept flexing his fingers, hands twitching like he wanted to hit something, but couldn’t.

Howzer really hoped he didn’t come just to hit him.

This time he threw another ration bar at Howzer, and based on the man’s twitchy nature and the forcefulness of the throw, Howzer made the logical decision to not try and agitate the man today. It’d been a few days since the commandos had come by and his body didn’t hurt that bad today, so he didn’t want to risk that little bit of relief by getting mouthy.

Rex would be proud, probably.

“Why did you do it?”

The Commander’s voice was quiet, but it was coiled tight, tersely hissed out from the confines of the helmet.

Howzer looked up at the other man slowly, brows furrowed. “What?”

The Commander shook his head minutely, hand twitching at his side as if going to grab his head but stopped himself.

“Why did you betray the Empire?”

Howzer surprised even himself when he snorted.

“Is that what you think?” Howzer asked dryly. “That I betrayed the Empire? What, because I didn’t want to hurt innocent civilians, somehow I’m the bad guy? C’mon, vod. ”

“We’re supposed to be soldiers,” the Commander said, as if that excused anything the Empire made them do. “If you had just done what you were told—“

“We can’t just blindly follow orders,” Howzer countered hotly. “Yeah, we’re soldiers, but we’re not droids. We aren’t programmed. You’re allowed to think for yourself—“

“Good soldiers follow orders,” the Commander spat.

"Not when they are wrong—“

“How do you know that?” The Commander burst out, voice strained. He sounded as though the question physically pained him to ask. “How can you— how do you tell?”

Howzer paused as he really looked at the Commander. His hands were twitchy still, and his body was coiled up tight, shoulders and back straight and stiff.

“...what happened?”

“Just answer the question,” he snapped, hand flying to the baton on his belt.

“Okay, okay,” Howzer said, holding his hands up placatingly. “I mean, not arresting and torturing and locking people who disagree with you in chains is probably a good place to start—“

The Commander stepped forward with a growl. “If you don’t—“

“I’m serious!” Howzer glared at the other man. “If they tell you to hurt civilians? If they tell you to- to invade a city for Imperial control? If they tell you to suppress governments who try to resist imperial rule? Murdering resistance fighters? It’s really not that complicated, vod. It’s a- a feeling.”

The Commander scoffed. “A feeling?”

“Yeah,” Howzer said, shrugging. “I don’t know, it-- doing the right thing shouldn’t make you feel bad. If it feels wrong, then it probably is.”

The Commander said nothing for a long time. Howzer sat tense for a long time, waiting for the Commander to move, do something.

The Commander let out a growl of frustration, hand falling from the baton.

“This is what we were made for,” he said quietly, and to Howzer he sounded painfully confused. “We were made to be soldiers. Our duty is… is to the Empire. How did you… why did you..?”

Howzer stared down at the floor, trying to formulate the words.

“I was assigned to Ryloth soon after the first Battle of Geonosis,” Howzer said finally, lifting his head. “They promoted me to captain and put me in charge of protection detail for the Syndullas. I was given my own company, my own command. And I was told it was my duty to protect Ryloth from the Separatists and any other group that sought to control them. I fought side by side with the Twi’leks for three years to defend Ryloth. My batchmate, his general, and his entire damned garrison died so that Ryloth could remain free from the Separatists.

“When the war ended, Ryloth was supposed to be safe. I thought that would be the end of it. The Jedi had been labeled traitors and that--” he snorted humorlessly, “that didn’t make a damn lick of sense to me, but the Jedi weren’t my priority. My priority was the people of Ryloth, and if the Republic becoming the Empire meant the war could end then who was I to fight against that?”

Howzer sighed, looking down at his hands cuffed in his lap.

“But then the Empire sent more troopers, instead of removing us from the planet. They took away the citizens' weapons. They said it was for their own safety, but safety from what? The war was supposed to be over, but military presence increased . They built that secret refinery in the mountains and refused to let anyone near it.”

He looked up at the Commander, eyes bright with anger.

“And then the Empire fabricated a coup, kidnapped Hera, shot Orn Free Taa, and tried to pin it on Cham and Eleni. I know it was you who shot Taa, and I know you did it on Rampart’s orders. I heard it all. Rampart wanted Imperial control of the planet and he was willing to do anything to get it. Hera was a kid . The Syndullas never wanted anything except what was best for Ryloth. And I may not have liked Faa, but he didn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in Rampart’s quest for power.”

“The Empire took away their democracy. They took away the Twi’lek’s ability to defend themselves. And when anyone fought back or disagreed, they were arrested or worse. I saw that the Empire was becoming the very thing I had sworn for years to protect Ryloth and the Twi’leks from, and they wanted me to take part in it. And when I refused I was labeled a traitor, arrested, and sent here to be tortured for information on threat of death. All I ever did was do my duty . I was a good soldier. So no, Commander, I didn’t betray the Empire. If anything, the Empire betrayed me .”

Howzer was panting by the end of his rant, anger rearing back up stronger than it had in months the longer he thought about what the Empire had done to him, had done to the people he cared about.

For a long time no one spoke. Howzer continued to glare up at the Commander’s stupid helmet while the other man held himself stiffly in the middle of the cell.

“The Empire is making the Galaxy a better-”

“Sithspit, you don’t actually believe that, do you?” Howzer asked incredulously. “A better place? How is making entire planets, entire groups of people live in constant fear for their lives a ‘better place?’ You don’t like it, do you?”

The Commander tipped his head. “I don’t live in fear for my life.”

“Don’t you?” Howzer snorted bitterly. “You should. You’re a clone. The Empire doesn’t give a shit about the clones, you know that. They’re literally training our replacements right here in this facility as we speak. They’re phasing us out, Commander, and it’s only a matter of time before they replace you with a newer model too.”

“No,” the Commander grout out. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “No, they- they need me.”

“The Empire doesn’t need anybody,” Howzer rolled his eyes. “The Empire doesn’t care about anyone. The only thing they care about is power. And anyone who stands in the way of that? Everyone is replaceable, Commander. In the Empire’s eyes, we’re all disposable.”

The Commander shook his head slowly, posture so tense Howzer was surprised he didn’t just spontaneously combust right in front of him.

“No,” he said, though he didn’t sound as sure this time. “The Empire is doing what needs to be done. And I am going to be a part of it.”

He turned stiffly to walk back toward the ray shield, but Howzer wasn’t finished yet.

“You really think you’re so special?” He called to the man’s retreating back. The Commander froze in front of the doorway, his tilted helmet the only indication that he was listening. “I’ve seen the way he treats you. The way he talks to you. Don’t fool yourself, Commander. To him, you and I are no different. Just another tool to be discarded once it’s no longer useful.”

Some part of Howzer took perverse pleasure in the way the Commander’s hands were twitching, the way his shoulders hunched up to his ears.

“It’s only a matter of time until he decides you’re not worth the trouble.”

The Commander turned with a shout and suddenly Howzer’s head was slamming against the durasteel wall, a hand squeezing tight around his throat until he could barely draw a breath.

“Struck a nerve, did I?” He gasped, hands reaching up to lock on the other man’s wrist.

He was shoved against the wall again and Howzer closed his eyes, tensing as he waited for the inevitable punch - but it never came. Despite the tight grip he had around Howzer’s neck, the Commander didn’t move. He stood there, the empty green visor boring into Howzer’s face, shoulders heaving as heavy breathing poured shakily from the helmet’s modulator. Standing this close, Howzer could feel the trembling running through the man’s body.

“I’m sorry. But you know I’m right,” Howzer choked out, looking into the visor with some sympathy. He knew the Commander wasn’t angry at him . Howzer was intimately familiar with this feeling, this type of rage. Had felt it himself many times. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so angry.”

With a growl, the Commander dropped his hand from Howzer’s throat. Howzer dropped to the ground with a pained gasp, hands grabbing at his throat as he coughed and choked on his breath.

The Commander about-faced and stalked toward the ray shield, furiously pressing the button on his vambrace to drop the shield.

Howzer knew he should stop. He knew he was walking on thin enough ice with the other man as it was, confused by the tentative kindness the man had extended despite his obvious confusion and irritation by Howzer as a person. Hozwer was a prisoner. He could be executed at any time. He knew he should quit while he was ahead.

He knew, but that had never stopped him before.

“You want to be a good soldier?” He called out to the other man’s back. “Maybe it’s time you stop letting the Empire tell you who you are, and decide for yourself the kind of man you want to be.”

The Commander barely paused in his stride, stepping through the doorway and hitting the button to re-activate the ray shield once more. He stalked away without another backwards glance.

Most people are drowning in their delusional ignorance without knowing that their suffering was created by themselves.

Jakusho Kwong Roshi

The disk exploded in the air as the blaster bolt hit it, shattering into tiny pieces that clattered onto the floor to join the fragmented remains of the other disks before it.

Crosshair adjusted his grip on his rifle and signaled to the droid at the end of the range to volley another round of disks. The kickback on his rifle against his shoulder was comforting and familiar, the same as it had been since he was old enough to hold the firepuncher up in his arms for the first time.

Shooting the disks was ridiculously easy, no matter how quickly the training droid launched them, but Crosshair wasn’t looking for a challenge. He came to the range to keep his mind busy, a distraction, a mindless task that would give him time to think away from everyone around him.

It had been three months since the destruction of Tipoca City, and three months since Crosshair had made the choice to leave his brothers and return to the Empire.

Those three months had been… interesting, to say the least.

It took the Imperial scouts two days to find Crosshair on that platform. Of course those two days were the two days Kamino decided not to be the stormy landscape it was infamous for. By the time the scouts picked him up he was half delirious from heat exhaustion, dehydration, and his head was covered in burns from the blistering sun.

He woke up again a few days later as they pulled him out of a bacta tank. He’d barely had time to process what was happening before he was being dragged to an interrogation room by a couple of commandos to be questioned by Rampart.

That hadn’t been pleasant.

It was another month before he was sent on missions on his own, before that ordered only to follow Rampart around like he was his personal bodyguard. He knew it was so Rampart could keep an eye on his every move, so he could make sure Crosshair could still be trusted.

Fair, he supposed. Even he could admit his story was shaky at best.

He’d spun some story or another about the girl setting off the training droids in the training room in Tipoca City, his squad being overrun by the droids before the bombardment started. When explaining how he’d escaped alive, Crosshair figured the best lies were the ones that were buried at least partially in the truth.

He told Rampart that he’d been knocked out by his former squad members in the chaos. That they picked him up and dragged him out of the city as they tried to escape. He wasn’t sure why.  He didn't need to lie about that.

He told Rampart about the girl rescuing him, about his squad’s escape through the tunnels to Nala Se’s old lab. He told him about their plan to use the pods to escape to the surface, using that AZI unit as their guide.

And then. And then.

“You were working with them?”

“No,” Crosshair said, staring up at Rampart from the ground. “I was using them. Pretending to work with them until we reached the surface platform.”

“Yes,” Rampart said slowly, “the platform with no ship. How did they get onto Kamino, then?”

“They had help. Communications were down underwater so they needed to reach the surface to call their extraction. They’d just broken CC-5576 out of Daro base, I assume they were working with him.”

Rampart hummed, blank face giving nothing away.

“When we removed your inhibitor chip, Commander, you assured me that your loyalty to the Empire would not be in question. Was that a lie?”

Crosshair shifted in the trooper’s grip in an attempt to get the pressure off of his undoubtedly broken ribs.

“No, sir,” he gasped, biting back a grunt when the commando tightened his grip, forcing Crosshair to arch his back.

Something snapped. Definitely broken then.

“Good,” Rampart said softly. He gestured to the commando and Crosshair was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He groaned as the muscles in his shoulders finally relaxed. “I would hate to have to replace such a… valuable asset as yourself.”

“They won’t be a problem anymore.”

“So you’ve said. It is unfortunate they won’t be an asset in the pocket of the Empire, but if they were going to be a thorn in our side then I suppose it’s for the best that they’re dead. And you are… sure they are dead, aren’t you?”

Crosshair turned to spit a mouthful of blood at the ground before turning to look at the vice-admiral. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look the man in the eye, instead looking at a spot just below on his cheekbone.

“Their pods were crushed when the lab flooded,” Crosshair said, swallowing hard. “I saw it. To the best of my knowledge, no one could have survived that.”

Rampart stared dispassionately down at Crosshair for a long moment.

“I certainly hope so, Commander. For your sake.”

There was a small part of Crosshair that wondered why he bothered lying, why he was still protecting those traitors. Maybe part of it was self preservation - if he told Rampart that he let the Bad Batch survive and escape, it would undoubtedly end badly for him. The Vice-Admiral had already made that abundantly clear.

He knew it was deeper than that, though, loath as he was to admit it.

He could have done it. He could have killed them. They’d refused to join him, refused to join the Empire, so it was the logical next step in his orders. It would have been so easy, too, distracted as they were by the kid drowning beneath the water. Hunter had brought his rifle and his pack with him into the tube. No one was paying attention to him. If he’d moved quickly enough, he could have grabbed the rifle, shot Hunter and the others, and left the kid to drown. All that would have been left to do was swim to the platform, steal the ship, and fly back to the Daro base to contact Rampart.

He’d been so close. He’d lifted the rifle and had it pointed between Hunter’s eyes before he’d even realized what he was doing.

But something had stayed his hand.

He’d stared down into Hunter’s tired eyes, finger on the trigger and ready to pull, but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t do it. Instead, he did something he’d never done before.

He froze.

Maybe it was a misplaced sense of loyalty. An old holdout feeling, a remnant from the days they were a team, a family. When Crosshair would have been the first to shoot anyone pointing a blaster in Hunter’s face the way he’d been. Maybe it was him returning the favor, remembering that Hunter had saved him, had still grabbed his body and taken him to safety despite everything the two of them had done to each other that day. Maybe it was him remembering the fervor with which Omega had ordered AZI to help rescue him from under the debris so he wouldn’t drown in the cold ocean water.

Maybe it was the memory of Hunter’s voice breaking with desperation when he asked Crosshair how long he’d been without the inhibitor chip. When he’d realized that all of Crosshair’s decisions that led them to that point were entirely his own.

This is who I am.

Or maybe it was the way those familiar brown eyes, eyes that had once looked at him with love and warmth, had looked at him not with surprise or anger, but with resignation . Hunter hadn’t looked at him and felt betrayed or shocked - instead he’d looked at Crosshair with empty acceptance, like he knew this was what Crosshair was planning to do all along and knew he couldn’t fight it. It was like Hunter had finally given up - given up on him .

I wanted to believe it was the inhibitor chip that made you like this, but I was wrong.

Maybe it was the way those same brown eyes had looked at him with that same tired acceptance in Nala Se’s lab, this time on a smaller feminine frame beneath pale, blonde hair.

Before he could even really process what he was doing he’d pulled the rifle away from Hunter and pointed it into the murky waters below. Hunter couldn’t see into the water, but Crosshair could - he could see through the grime and the darkness and the debris to the slowly sinking blur of the girl clinging to the droid. Looking through the scope he realized he was likely the only one of the group who had the ability to save her and survive while doing it. He’d fired the grapple without second thought.

It was after, when he looked back at the others and saw Tech, Echo, and Wrecker shamelessly pointing their own blasters at him, that he realized his plan was never going to work anyway. There was no way his old squad was going to follow him, to come back and join him in the Empire. Whatever bond had existed between them all those years together had broken and he wasn’t sure there was a way for them to get it back. His brothers didn’t trust him anymore and they likely never would.

Once the girl was safely pulled into the pod it was with that knowledge that he tossed his firepuncher back to Wrecker. He sat down in the pod and avoided eye contact with Hunter, not wanting to see the cold blankness in his eyes again. He’d desperately tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest, the emptiness he felt at the thought of his brothers leaving without him again like he knew they were going to.

He couldn’t even watch as Marauder flew away from him for a fourth time, fearful that they’d see the extra shine lingering on his eyes in Kamino’s rare sunlight.

He still tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest that he felt even now, three months later. His temple throbbed and he shook his head to try and clear it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chime at the door, a warning to whoever was down range that someone was about to enter. The door slid open with a quiet whoosh and ES-02 walked in.

“Commander,” she said with a nod, standing at attention just inside the doorway.

“What do you want?” He said, shooting down the range again when the droid threw the next disk. The shot hit just as the disk was reaching the peak of it’s arch through the air.

“Admiral Rampart has requested you meet him in interrogation room 4-8C,” she said, and he lowered his rifle with a sigh. “He has asked that I escort you.”

“I don’t need a minder,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Still, he stepped back from the range and disengaged his rifle, pulling the nozzle attachment off and slipping it into his pack.

“Vice Admiral’s orders, sir,” she said with a shrug.

Crosshair nodded, slipping his pack onto his back before reaching down beside him to pick up his helmet. He slipped it on, sliding his firepuncher over his shoulder until he heard and felt the metallic clink of it as the magnetic hold in his pack activated.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, gesturing toward the open door behind her.

ES-02 nodded and turned, gesturing for Crosshair to step out in front of her.

They set off down the hallway, ES-02 following a half step behind him to the right. They made their way quickly through the facility until they got to the lift. Once inside, Crosshair swiped his access card to activate the lift and it started lowering itself to the fourth floor.

After a few moments of ES-02’s shuffling and sneaking glances, Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“What?”

She twitched slightly, looking over at Crosshair with what he could only assume were raised eyebrows under her helmet.

“Sir?”

“You have something to say,” he said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “What is it?”

She said nothing, staring at him for a long moment before shaking her head and turning back to the front.

“Nothing, sir.”

He had to fight to not roll his eyes again. These conscripted soldiers were a real pain, and for once in his life Crosshair actually found himself missing the regs. If for no other reason than for their ability to act like actual soldiers and not just gossipy children who thought they were good at lying.

The lift came to a stop and Crosshair stepped out as the door opened, not pausing to wait and see if ES-02 followed him.

He quickly came upon room 4-8C and turned back to the other trooper before he went inside.

“I think I can handle myself from here,” he said dryly. “You’re dismissed.”

She hesitated and her movements shuttered slightly before she jerked her arm up in a salute, nodding as she turned to walk away. He kept his eyes on her back until she turned the corner out of sight.

With a sigh, Crosshair inserted his code into the pad by the door and stepped cautiously into the interrogation room, still unsure what exactly he was walking into.

“Ah, Commander,” Rampart called out. “Thank you for joining us.”

Rampart was standing in the middle of the room next to a blue containment field. In the field’s ray was a man, a clone based on the blacks and the build, head hung low to his chest.

Crosshair slowly crossed the room, stopping at attention behind Rampart.

“The good captain and I were just about to have a long overdue discussion, Commander, and I thought you might like to assist,” Rampart said with a smirk. “You two have a history after all.”

The clone in the containment field finally lifted his head, and Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly behind his helmet as he took in the scarred face beneath scraggly facial hair.

Crosshair hadn’t seen Captain Howzer since he was arrested on Ryloth. Not long after he was arrested Crosshair had been sent back to Kamino to help oversee the decommissioning of Tipoca City. He never knew what became of Howzer, assumed the man had been decommed or reconditioned - if the Empire still bothered with that sort of thing - and he hadn’t spared the other clone a second thought. A few weeks later and the call informing him of Hunter’s capture came in, completely removing the reg from Crosshair’s sphere of concern.

Now here he was, and he certainly didn’t look like the headstrong Captain he remembered on Ryloth. His face was gaunt, his cheekbones stood out sharper than any clone’s should, and his hair was longer, lanky and flopping over his eyes. His face didn’t look any better, skin mottled with black, green, and yellow bruising. He hadn’t shaved in quite some time, and the black facial hair was growing in patches around the scar tissue on his cheek and chin.

The biggest change was in his eyes - whereas the last time Crosshair had seen him his eyes had burned bright with passionate self-righteousness as he rallied the other regs against the Empire, now his eyes were dull. They lacked the intensity, the heat they’d once held within. Before him now were the eyes of a broken man, tired and so beat down he could barely hide it, leaving him a shell of the man Crosshair briefly knew. Crosshair wasn’t sure what the Empire had done to the clone captain, but whatever it was, it wasn’t pretty.

Something about the image tweaked some long forgotten, deeply buried part of his mind. There was something about seeing another clone, strung up like a puppet and beaten down, that left a sour taste on the back of his tongue, but he pushed it down. This man was a traitor to the Empire. This is what he deserved.

“I just have a few questions to ask you, CT-7569,” Rampart was saying as he walked around the containment field, staring up without feeling at the clone held within. “As long as you answer my questions honestly and without issue, no one has to get hurt.”

Rampart stopped when he reached Crosshair.

“Commander, if you would be so kind as to make sure he answers my questions honestly, and without issue,” Rampart said.

He held something out in his hands and Crosshair looked down to see an electro-baton in his palm.

Reaching forward slowly, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the baton. Before he could pull it from the Vice Admiral’s palm, the other man closed his hand around the opposite end.

“Consider this a reminder of what happens to those who conspire against the Empire,” Rampart said softly, staring directly into Crosshair’s visor. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the other man from behind his helmet, cognizant of the fact that the words were said quietly enough there was no way Howzer had heard them.

He wasn’t meant to. They weren’t meant for him .

Crosshair pulled the baton out of the nat-born’s hands and walked to the other side of the containment field. He pressed the button on the end of the baton and the tip crackled with electricity as it powered up.

“CT-7569, I have to say, I am very disappointed,” Rampart said, continuing his stroll around the containment field. Howzer followed him with lazy eyes. “Your service record during the war was quite impressive. The way you were able to maintain hold of the capital even after that Jedi scum was killed was quite the feat.”

Howzer shifted slightly, eyes glowering down at the nat-born, but he said nothing. Crosshair tightened his grip in the baton.

“You could have done great things for the Empire,” Rampart was saying. “But you threw it all away. And for what? A little girl? One man and his wife?”

Howzer growled low in his throat, but didn’t move.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

The reg continued to glare.

“Commander,” Rampart called, not taking his eyes off of the captain. “If you would.”

Crosshair clenched the end of the baton and lifted it, pressing it into the small of Howzer’s back.

Crosshair had to admit, he admired the way the other clone didn’t scream or yell. Howzer arched his back, breathing frantically through his nose as the pain built, his arms and legs trembling where they were held in place by the energy shackles.

Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer collapsed as much as he could while in the field's ray, his back and shoulders slumping as his head dropped listlessly to his chest. His shaky breathing cut sharply through the quiet stillness of the room.

“Well?” Rampart said, eyebrows quirked.

Howzer whined low in his throat, lifting his head just enough to look out at Rampart through hooded eyes.

“Howzer,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Captain. Grand Army of the Republic. Designation CT-7569.”

Rampart said nothing, just continued to stare blankly at the clone captain. Eventually he turned to look at Crosshair and nodded.

Crosshair lifted the baton again, pressing it harder into Howzer’s back. This time Howzer couldn’t quite hold back his scream before he cut himself off, and Crosshair pretended not to notice the way his own hand twitched as the sound cut through the buzz of electricity.

“What can you tell me about the resistance on Ryloth?” Rampart asked once Crosshair pulled the baton back again. Howzer hung panting heavily within the containment field’s ray.

“I know Cham and Eleni were planning something,” Rampart continued as he walked around Howzer’s hanging form. “Those fighters they had at their disposal, the ones who attacked our transport--”

“You kidnapped their daughter ,” Howzer hissed, “what did you expect them to do?”

“Don’t play coy with me, clone ,” Rampart snapped, “you and I both know they were planning something before that. Arresting their brat just moved up the timeline.”

“Go to hell!” Howzer snapped back.

Rampart stepped back. “Commander, if you would.”

Crosshair’s hand twitched around the baton handle.

“9904!”

Crosshair’s hand jerked up, pressing the baton harshly into Howzer’s back once again. This time the clone captain couldn’t hold back the screams as the muscles in his back contorted violently again. Crosshair closed his eyes as the pain in his head rose in pitch with the man’s cries.

Finally, Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer slumped inward on himself with a whine, his head lolling forward against his chest. His breathing was shallow but slow, the muscles in his arms and shoulders twitching seemingly involuntarily.

“You tried to recruit other clones in your little insurrection,” Rampart said, leaning forward close to Howzer’s face. “I know how close you were to them. Who else is involved? What were they planning? Where are Cham and Eleni Syndulla?”

Surprisingly, the clone laughed. It was a dark and brittle thing that sounded ugly and wrong coming from the once amiable man.

“Save your breath,” Howzer said, glaring down at Rampart with a smug smile. “I’m not telling you anything. You may as well just go ahead and kill me.”

“No,” Rampart smiled back, and even Crosshair felt a modicum of apprehension at the wolfish look. “I won’t be letting you off that easily.”

Rampart took a step back, pulling a comm out of his pocket and pressing a button to activate it. The door slid open behind him and two TK troopers walked in.

“Commander,” he said, turning to Crosshair who was still standing behind Howzer with the now de-powered baton in his hand. “If you could escort CT-7569 back to his cell. It looks like we’ll just have to try this again later.”

Crosshair nodded and attached the baton to a hook on his utility belt. Rampart quickly left the room and Crosshair walked back around to the front of the containment field as the two TK troopers worked on removing Howzer from the ray.

The ray abruptly turned off and Crosshair watched as Howzer collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs. He didn’t even try to fight as one TK trooper pulled him upright again by the arms, roughly shoving his arms behind his back and slapping a pair of binders onto his wrists. He groaned quietly as the manhandling no doubt pulled on his abused and aching body, but otherwise made no protest.

Once they were finished the two troopers stood back and looked up at Crosshair for instruction. Crosshair paused, staring down at the other clone.

Finally, Howzer lifted his head and stared up at Crosshair with wide, tired eyes. Somehow he managed to meet Crosshair’s eyes through the visor and Crosshair froze.

For a second Crosshair wasn’t staring down into the eyes of a broken clone captain turned traitor. For a second he looked at Howzer and saw another pale, gaunt, and tortured reg. Only instead of tired defeat he saw bright, beholden eyes, staring up at him with gratitude from the floor of the Marauder as they thanked him for helping to rescue him from Skako Minor.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat he jerked his gaze away and gestured to the two troopers still standing at attention in front of him.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the exit. Howzer grunted behind him as he was yanked to his feet and Crosshair closed his eyes against the pain in his temples that throbbed in time with his racing heart.

~

After he’d left Howzer chained up in his cell, he started the trek back to his quarters. The pain in his head had abated somewhat, but the day had left him exhausted and he was ready to lay down and attempt some sleep for the night.

The headaches had been getting worse lately, but the medics in the infirmary assured him time and time again that there was nothing wrong with him. Stress, maybe, they said. Psychosomatic. Most days were better than others but occasionally when the pain got too bad, when he couldn’t ignore the bright spots in his vision or the way his hands would tremble, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something they weren’t telling him.

The chip was gone, he knew that for a fact. Had seen the thing, fried and burnt looking, when they’d pulled it from his head after it was damaged on Bracca. Why some of the side effects seemed to linger, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to ask. He didn’t think he’d get an honest answer anyway.

It was just a little pain. He was used to pain, he could handle it.

The lift opened finally and he had to put conscious effort into not groaning out loud when he saw ES-02 standing inside.

They both stared at each other for a second before she stepped to the side so Crosshair could enter.

One he was inside and the lift began moving, 02 shuffled her feet before turning her head toward him.

“What did Rampart want?”

“Questioning that insurrectionist we arrested on Ryloth,” Crosshair said, leaning back against the transparasteel wall with his arms crossed. “See what he knows about the resistance on the planet.”

02 hummed. “Anything?”

“He still won’t talk,” Crosshair said. “But Rampart wants to break him.”

“Do you think he will?”

The lift began to slow to a stop.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug as he pushed off the walk. “The Kaminoans trained us to withstand most interrogation and torture techniques. It might end up working against the Empire’s favor, ironically.”

“I don’t know why he’s bothering,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s been nearly five months since that clone was arrested and he hasn’t said anything yet. If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.”

“I suppose he should be grateful it isn’t up to you, then,” Crosshair said dryly as they stepped off the lift towards his quarters.

“Honestly, he’s just a clone. Rampart should just put him down and move on.”

Crosshair abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway and ES-02 nearly stumbled into him before she caught herself.

“‘ Just a clone?’ ”

ES-02 shrugged. “Well… yeah. I mean, there’s thousands of them. What’s one less?”

Crosshair hummed as he stared down the other woman, not sure if he should be insulted or impressed by her audacity. Not that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from nat-borns before, even with the Republic. Or, admittedly, nothing he hadn’t thought for himself once or twice in his darker, more embittered moments. But for her to say it to his face, as her superior officer, was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

He took off down the hallway again, fighting the urge to groan out loud as she continued to follow him. He was nearly to his quarters now, where hopefully he could get some peace and quiet to deal with his headache. If she tried to follow him inside, he might just shoot her and be done with it.

“I’m surprised Rampart is letting you near him, actually,” she was saying as they neared his door. “Considering how royally you screwed up dealing with those clones last time.”

This time when Crosshair stopped suddenly she did run into him. He watched with the smallest ping of satisfaction as she stumbled and had to catch herself on the wall.

“ What did you just say?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her armor clanked loudly in the hallway as she shifted, apparently internally debating how far she wanted to take this.

“You heard me,” she said finally. “I think the Vice Admiral may be putting a little too much faith in you, is all.”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed behind his visor and he rested his hand on the holster of the DC-17 on his hip. ES-02’s eyes followed the movement, but she didn’t stand down. In a moment of sudden clarity, every slightly off comment, every insubordinate slip, every “misheard” order and twitchy glance over the last three months flashed to the forefront of his memory.

“If you have something to say to me, then say it,” He growled, stepping forward.

ES-02 shifted slightly, hands fidgeting on their rifle, before stepping forward into Crosshair’s space in a way that was likely meant to be intimidating.

“I don’t trust you,” she said quietly, her visor boring into his. “I don’t know how you got off of Kamino alive, but I know you didn’t do it alone. You may have Rampart fooled, but I was there. I know what I saw.”

Crosshair tilted his head. “And what is it you think you saw?”

“I saw our squads’ bodies on the ground. I saw you fighting side by side with those clones.”

“The girl activated the battle droids,” he reminded her. “The girl you were supposed to capture. Are you really so incompetent you let a child and her droid get the best of you?”

ES-02 had the grace to flinch back a little at that, but she held her ground.

“You really expect me to believe our squad was taken out by simulation droids? ”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Maybe if they all weren’t so inept they would still be alive.”

ES-02 bristled and pushed further into his space until their helmets were nearly touching. He held his ground, arms at rest behind his back and he stared back at her dispassionately.

“Or maybe the droids were just a convenient excuse,” she said. “Maybe that was your plan all along. Get your old squad back to Kamino, overrun and kill us so you could get your little friends back.”

She let out a humorless chuckle, head tilted to the side as she regarded him.

“Though I guess they didn’t want you, either.”

“Careful, trooper,” he hissed, finally pushing back into her space. “I could have you court martialed.”

She shook her head, taking a step back.

“You think you’re so important, don’t you?” Her voice dripped with condescension. “You mean nothing . You’re an obsolete meat droid created to die in a war that doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve outlived your purpose. It’s only a matter of time before Rampart realizes that, and when he does? I’ll make sure they dump your body at the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean where it belongs.”

All you’ll ever be to them is a number.

“Get out of my sight,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a sloppy ‘ kark you’ salute, disdain clear in her tone, “ Commander.”

He watched the woman retreat down the hall until she was out of sight before turning and punching in the code to his quarters.

As the door slid shut behind him, he reached up and pulled his helmet off, throwing it across the room with a strangled yell. His head suddenly felt like it was on fire and he reached up to press his fingers to his aching temple.

If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.

I certainly hope so, Commander… for your sake.

We still would've taken you.

You’re my brother, too.