#clone x clone

Cape woke up to blaster fire. He didn't see it, he didn't see light zipping through the air.

But he heard it—and it was loud.

Loud. Loud. Loud. The words ascended to a scream in his head, making him jolt up. Pain rippled across his scalp. He looked up, and a hard, metal ceiling stared back. Where, wh-where was h-

"Out, OUT!" A brother's voice echoed throughout their…their bunks.

He needed to get out. Must have been an ambush, maybe separatist reinforcements. But wasn't Umbara already saved?

Then footsteps came, like a rushing stampede of clanking armor and whirring machinery—tanks, and…was he hearing starfighters, slicing through the air?

"Move, move!" the voice came again, making him flinch. It didn't matter, all he needed to know, was that they were under attack. It was easier to think that way, easier to focus. So, he hurried out of his bed, with the motion bordering on muscle memory. His blaster was in the same place, as were pieces of his armor, taken off to treat wounds. They, alongside his helmet, remained in a pile beside his bunk.

He only got to his blaster before an explosion rang out.

He should have felt a ripple in the air, and the stench of smoke and iron, but…why wasn't anyone awake? What few brothers remained still stirred in their sleep.

Another explosion almost made him stumble back—loud, loud!

A mechanical giggling zipped above him. Again, no wind; vultures must've gotten new tech, must have made them quieter.But still, he saw no flashing lights. Th-The battle had moved somewhere else, it had t-

A scream shoved him forward, closer to the tent's exit, through the narrow gap between bunks. No time for his armor—only his blaster. He held onto to it for dear life as he rushed, expecting fire and chaos beyond the darkness of their shelter. Blankets rustled behind him.

"…Cape?" a brother groaned.

No time. He shook his head, charging out of the tent.

His own heartbeat pulsed in his ears, sweat coating his skin as he found himself in the airbase. Round, bizarre buildings flickered with intricate lines, as a contrast to the planet's eternal darkness.

Scattered groups of clones just…casually walked around. It was almost eerie, seeing only a dozen brothers in a place that should've been busy with them. Groups of three or four carried boxes or as they strolled, while others typed away on datapads or checked on rows of unoccupied AT-RTs.

Anger bubbled in Cape's chest, alongside his fear. They didn't matter—they'll get chewed out later. But not Cape; he would follow his brothers, since some had clearly left to join the battle.

All those sounds rang out again, further out, into the wilderness. He flinched again. Wide eyes darted across the vast airbase, and he spotted an open gate to the left.

He bolted and panted, regardless of the odd looks that came his way.

Hot air muddied his visor. once-familiar AT-TEs and gunships loomed and groaned in blurry outlines like steel beasts, but he rushed past them, no matter how much he shuddered.

Cape eventually reached the gate, noting two clones walking into the airbase. Why were they so slow? They were under attack! Why didn't they move!?

Blue-striped armor clanked as he brushed past one of them—it was their fault they didn't move out of the way.

"Hey!" one of them shouted in a harsh tone, one that almost froze Cape. But he had a brothers to save, so he refused to look back.

Smooth metal turned into dirt and branches as he charged past Umbara's bizarre flora. Bright lights darkened into soft bio-luminescence. It was terrifying, more than terrifying, but Cape endured such feelings before. He survived Umbara's previous battles, and he wouldn't give up now—he wouldn't let the shadows swallow him whole.

The sounds of battle intensified, with the addition of crackling fire. But where was the smoke? Did it melt into the night sky?

Cape ran, ran, ran, deeper into the wilds, until something caught his foot. He yelped, splashing up mud as he slammed onto the ground. He scrambled onto his knees, and prepared to get back onto his feet, only to stop as he raised his head.

Past his blurry visor, and splattered mud, he saw bodies.

No fire, or droids, or ships above, just the scattered corpses of clones, some in blue, some in orange. Craters and scrap metal surrounded them, indicating a battle had taken place. Few had their helmets off, and what could be seen in the dark was…mortifying, to say the least.

But the sounds continued, without assurance that Cape could help. Vulture droids still giggled, brothers barked orders and screamed in pain, and blaster fire still blared.

He could still hear everything. Now, that panic tightened his throat, making him pant faster, though it failed to energize him. Confusion stirred with his dismay like a monstrous concoction.

It all melted into one emotion—paranoia. With only corpses and ruins to keep him company, Cape couldn't tell which sound was a feature of nature or a stalking predator. He recalled how Umbara's fauna snapped and hunted his brothers, though their numbers easily scared them off. But alone, though? He was as good as dead.

His eyes kept darting to see who or what was watching him; the rest of his body was too weak, too scared, to drag him up.

A crunch made him cry out and fall onto his stomach. It was then, that he realized he never picked his rifle back up. One hand thrashed above his head; another gripped the side of his helmet to increase his night vision.

Mud sloshed under his palm until he felt something blocky—solid.

He rolled onto his back, yanking his rifle and cranking up his night vision in one swift motion. Yet, as both of his hands gripped his blaster, they couldn't help but quiver.

Before him was a bright outline of armor. Cape's gaze zipped up and down, noting a kama and…and a unique helmet.

Still, a shaky breath accompanied tears. Words echoed in his head, words of advice from general Krell.

Umbarans, bastardizing the armor of their brothers.

The battlefield was just so loud. He could barely think straight with all the carnage that made his ears ring. H-He had to fire and flee, but what would he do then? Wha-

"I need you to put your rifle down," the figure—the fake, said in the stern tone of cap…captain Rex.

"Wh-Why? How do I know you're not some Umbaran? The captain wouldn't be comforting s-someone like me, you're-"

The figure loosened, and quickly, but gently, lifted their hands.

"Easy. Last time I checked, Umbarans can't mimic voices. Now, I'm gonna need you to set your rifle dow-"

"Y-You don't hear it!?" Cape snapped.

"…Hear what? What do you hear?" Rex said in an unexpectedly soft tone. Hints of rigid frustration remained, but not enough to spawn more fear.

"T-There's all this…this screaming, a-and vultures and blasters. Th-There's another attack b-but I don't know where it is and-"

"There isn't a battle. Umbara's under the republic now—we're heading off in two days."

"B-But general Krell sai-"

"General Krell's dead."

Despite the gentleness in Rex's voice, it didn't soften the blow of realization.

He followed orders without a second thought, he…he slaughtered his own brothers.

Perhaps that knowledge was always there, in the back of Cape's head, waiting. Was part of him aware of it? Was it muted in the heat of the moment?

He lowered his rifle. Rex took a step forward, then another, with a careful aura to it, in case the quivering soldier tried anything else. Cape just stared at nothing, the sounds devolving into white noise. His mind sank into guilt, as dark and endless as the Umbaran sky. Every thought drowned in it; no amount of thrashing could have pulled him ou-

The crunch of branches made his head turn to the captain, knelt beside him.

A hand on his back made Cape straighten.

"Take off your helmet," Rex said.

The trooper stared for a moment. All he could interpret past the captain's visor was anger, which only added onto his distress.

"I wasn't asking, soldier."

"Yes, sir." Cape squeaked under his breath. The motion was quick—too quick for him to sniffle and let his tears dry. Great, now he was also embarrassed.

Rex gave a quiet sigh, and…placed a hand on the soldier's cheek.

It had to have been a ploy, so the endless dressing-down wouldn't feel too brutal; what else would he get for wasting the captain's time?

Yet, the touch lingered. Rex's thumb wiped a messy streak of tears, then released to wipe the other. It landed on Cape's shoulder—one of many plateless patches of his bodysuit.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Y-Yes sir."

"Do you really?"

"Of course, w…we're on Umbara. You executed general Krell a-and he…he had us kill each other."

Cape swallowed, though that didn't stop warmth from creeping up his eyes and head. He recalled the bunks—the empty ones, the ones with names etched in their frames, the ones scattered across the battlefield.

He couldn't spot their bodies, not in the dark. His watering eyes didn't help, but he tried to shove that anguish back. Still, tears dripped as his legs half-curled.

Comforting arms pulled him towards Rex, against his chestplate. Cape kept shuddering, as if the cool, thick air of Umbara was even colder. All he could do was stare at the weathered paint of his captain's armor.

All he could do was sob.

It was a choked, snotty, pathetic thing, yet Rex got on both knees, and held him regardless. A hand rested on the side of Cape's head, his buzzed hair rustling.

"You're safe—you're safe. You didn't know."

"I-I could've done something! I-I could've…I could've…"

Cape squeezed his eyes shut, sinking into the cold, hard surface of his captain's chest. He wasn't sure how long it went on for, but his sobs eventually faded. Rex's embrace remained gentle, without a hint of annoyance or impatience.

A hand lifted off his back, followed by the sound of a comlink.

"I found him. Yeah, the one that ran into me, over."

The soldier's heart sank. The angry, garbled reply on the other end invoked a subtle cringe.

"No, no, we're not gonna chew him out. Just a flashback. He's not far from the airbase. Give me a moment and I'll bring him back; just make sure he didn't cause a scene on his way out, over."

Cape picked up on a reluctant sigh, some more chatter, and an "Over," before the comlink went quiet.

Dread still dampened his relief. If the arcs and the captain weren't going to berate him, his lower brothers absolutely would. Charging into the night? Missing some of his armor? Disrespecting Rex like some amateur shiny? He'd be the legion's laughingstock.

The captain's arm returned and wrapped around Cape's back, a hand tucked under his arm

"What's your name, soldier?"

The trooper in question opened his eyes with raised brows. Why would he care? Why have another name, to another face, that he'd eventually find on a list of casualties?

Yet, Cape rejected the temptation of asking such a question, and flattened his hands against the ground.

"C-Cape, sir."

"How'd you get it?" Rex asked. Tenderness outweighed sternness in his tone.

"I, um…I got it before Geonosis."

"First or second battle?"

"F-First. Thought it was too cold in my bunk. I found some tarp in a gunship and…hid it." Cape winced, "It got confiscated a few weeks later. Had it on me every night, though."

Rex gave a deep "hmph", but it was closer to a snicker than a scoff.

"You haven't tried getting another one?"

"N-No, sir."

"And it's comforting, right?"

"Yes, sir," Cape replied. What was Rex getting at?

"…There's some gunships near the north gate—some of 'em should have some emergency tarp."

The soldier raised his head with a befuddled look. His captain stared back, a clear sense of mischief radiating behind his helmet.

"S-Sir, I can't-"

"I'm not gonna tell. Just make sure you put it back before we go off-world, understood?"

Part of Cape was shocked that a captain, or any higher-ranked clone, would condone that, but he still nodded; a free blanket didn't sound too bad.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, you'll need it. I reckon we all could use comfort, after all this…"

"Would general Skywalker allow that?"

"Eh, probably." Rex shrugged.

Cape tried not to widen his eyes at the captain's casual tone. Yet, curiosity beckoned him to prod. He wasn't above tuning into gossip among his brothers, or talking to each side in order to get the bigger picture.

"What…kind of general is he?"

Rex lifted his head, before facing Cape once more.

"The mischievous kind."

…Yeah, that checked out.

The trooper swallowed a yawn, which, in turn, killed his curiosity. He didn't mourn it though, not when the comfort of a tender touch was there to replace it.

"I…I think I'm ready to head back, sir."

Rex didn't let go, "Hold on, you still hear those sounds?"

Cape, after a moment of focus, shook his head. To his surprise, the white noise of war was gone without a trace, without him even noticing.

Rex loosened, and grabbed the soldier's helmet on their way up, while his other hand remained around cape's back. To think a captain, much less someone like Rex, would've offered such closeness to a regular trooper…

Something softened in Cape. It loosened his back, making his face flush with warm-

He put on his helmet as quickly, yet politely, as possible, before Rex could notice his blushing.

The walk back was…serene, more than Cape would have ever expected from such a godless place. The sound of an extra pair of footsteps certainly helped. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about that soothing feeling, at the sight of his captain. Courage and slight intimidation remained, but that dose of bliss was new—he couldn't get enough of it.

He at least tried to be covert. But it tempted him, more than panic tempted him out of his bunk. He'd never felt that way about, well, anyone, much less a brother. The way Umbara's flora bathed his armor in reds and purples, the way he carried himself with unyielding confidence…

"Sir?" the question came off Cape's tongue without a second thought.

Rex turned his head. The trooper nearly shut his mouth out of instinct, but forced the words out regardless.

"What…do you do, to comfort yourself?"

The captain rolled his shoulders, "Well, however the rest of us do it in our spare time."

It took a moment for Cape to piece things together in his head, but the result made him chuckle.

"I-I mean with…with flashbacks."

"Oh," Rex said, flat and low.

The trooper resisted a cringe with sudden awareness. He prepared to straighten up and apologize befor-

"I go for walks, at least, when I've got time on my hands. It's…nice, sometimes, gettin' some peace and quiet, checking on all the tents when everyone else is asleep. Well, mostly everyone—it's still pretty busy when we're at our quietest—but it's better than nothing."

Cape raised his brows at the sheer honesty, "I-I didn't know you had flashbacks."

"But you asked." the captain turned his head at his trooper, "I like that."

While Rex's glance wasn't covert, that same warmth emanated behind his helmet, and suddenly, his touch was more comforting than ever.

"Th-Thank you, sir." he swallowed, his voice as firm as he could muster. Was he sweating?

It didn't matter; the airbase's tower loomed closer than ever, as did its walls. Cape couldn't help but tense up again at the thought of returning, picturing the looks he'd get, the insults he'd receive…

But a firm pat on his shoulder made him turn to Rex, who simply nodded. That was all he needed to keep him going, at least until they reached the gate.

Everything was…normal inside. Busier, sure, but normal. Rex's arm retreated as they entered, and they both had the right idea of stepping slightly further from each other. Cape knew about intimacy between clones, but anything deeper was frowned upon, especially for higher-ranked brothers.

They eventually reached Shell's now vacant quarters; the rest must've moved along with their duties. To Cape, it meant privacy, to an extent.

Yet, as words formed in his head, hesitance held them from rolling off his tongue. Rex stood beyond the tent, likely waiting for the trooper to enter and grab the rest of his armor before going separate ways.

Cape lifted the tent flap, but, he recalled Rex's compliment, clinging to it like a cherished trophy.

"Sir?" he turned, stiffening, as a trooper would in the presence of a captain.

Rex, arms crossed, looked up from the floor.

"Permission to…walk with you, tomorrow morning?"

The captain stood for a second, staring. Cape's eyes drifted to the floor, though his helmet made it seem like he was staring back. Part of him expected his captain's intense gaze to burn holes through his hea-

"Sure. One o'clock sharp."

Cape froze, and before he could thank him, the captain wandered off—now,saying anything would look to obvious to any passing brothers.

"Well played, captain. Well played." he thought. With Rex's absence, it only made him cherish that comfort, of being cradled in his arms, of knowing he isn't the only one struggling.

Reciprocating that comfort, and receiving some potential gossip, didn't sound too bad.

If only he didn't have to wake up so early for it…