#clonexreaderbingo

He saw how easily you meshed with his brothers, how they could make you laugh out loud or comfort you after a tough mission and he had longed to join their ranks. Longed for much more, actually.

And then you stumbled. Stuttered, technically. And it opened the door.

He still hasn’t figured out what caused you to trip over your words that day, but when he turned to look at you, confusion melted into smug contentment at the sight of your wide eyes roving over his arms before snapping up to meet his.

Ever since, the second you started to get mouthy with him, Cross would pull himself up to his full height to tower over you, almost as if he was reminding a reg to mind his place. Well, in a way he was. But your place — where he’d like it to be, anyway — was much closer than he’d let any of those regs. Hell, closer than he’d let his brothers most days, if he was being honest.

And Maker if your reaction didn’t spur him on each time. He didn’t need Hunter’s hearing to know your heart would start racing. He could see the desperate way you’d try to control your breathing, chest heaving so pretty, just for him. Because of him.

The fire that raced through his veins that first time seared that image into his memory forever. He thought then he would do anything to keep you there. Next to him.

You seem to feel the same. In the months since, you had rarely left his side. You continued to constantly wheedle him, though neither of you jabbed with the same venom anymore. Not really. It was all an act, a dance to pull you together without either needing to be the first to succumb to the vulnerability he could feel tug at his heart every time he caught you sneaking a glance at him.

But again, without a thought, you put him right back on his ass. Now, it feels like his stomach felt would fall out his ass if his chest didn’t collapse in on itself first.

She doesn’t even know it.

And you shouldn’t. It was his mistake.

He forgot he was a soldier, a clone built for nothing more than war. That truth had honestly never bothered him before. He had his squad, his missions and his skills. That’s all he needed out of life.

But seeing you here …

He should have known accepting the invitation was stupid. When the Batch had been given a few days of leave, he should have kept to his routine. Stayed in the Marauder, cleaned his rifle and caught up on sleep instead of agreeing to join you and the others in visiting your home planet.

When the ship first touched down, he could see his brothers surveying the area. But as they approached an almost picturesque home at the end of a picturesque road, their curiosity remained as Crosshair’s morphed into bitterness.

It was too bright, too open, too peaceful to be anything other than alien.

Your smile was dazzling when you called out to your family with a lightly mocking tone, but the contentment on your face when your mother pulled you into her embrace broke his heart. It’s why he was the only one of the Batch to refuse the same welcome from her.

That Tech looked slightly uncomfortable with the overt affection was little comfort. Crosshair couldn’t even bring himself to tease his brother. Not when you so clearly belonged here. And Crosshair knew he never would.

So when your mom tried to get him to talk about himself, when your dad asked what he’d like to eat for dinner, when you looked at him with those eyes that shone with so much kriffing happiness it would have brought him to his knees if he were a weaker man ... he ran.

Like a worthless hut'tuun, damn him.

That’s what hurts the most. He knew the truth, deep down. But he hid from it. It was so easy to do when you were in his world.

Seeing you in yours has forced him to acknowledge that your place isn’t with him. It’s here, or somewhere just like here. Somewhere far away from battlefields and blaster smoke. Somewhere where kind words fill the air, rather than explosions. Where you can surround yourself with people who love you and can keep you happy.

You fit here. So completely he’s sure he will never see anything so perfect again. And with that same certainty, he also knows he will never belong here or anywhere like it.

This sort of soft, quiet peace isn’t meant for a soldier … a sniper … him.

“Cross?”

He freezes at the sound of your voice, letting the howl of wind through the trees suffice as a reply. When an exasperated huff fills the air, he expects it to be followed by your footsteps fading away as you turn back toward the house.

But then, you never do what he expects, do you?

So, he steels himself, tensing his muscles and darkening his glare when you plop onto the ground next to him in front of your childhood home.

“Ever heard of personal space?” He spits, hating the insecurity that forces the venom to seep back into his voice on instinct.

“Don’t be stingy, it’s cold out here! Not all of us run warm, you know.” Your tone remains light, joyful. Artificially so.

He doesn’t understand how you could willfully ignore every hostile reaction his body gave. He isn’t sure if he hates it or loves it. “Then go inside.”

Your lips purse as if you’re really considering it, fooling no one. “Hmm … nah. I think I’ll stay put.”

Crosshair scoffs and looks ahead. He doesn’t want to encourage you. But he is selfish. Too selfish to push you away as you scoot even closer, molding your side to his.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper quietly, shocking him into compliance as you gently loop your arm through his, pulling it to your chest as your chin finds its perch on his shoulder.

“For what?”

“Making you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not that talented.” If he is going to do this, might as well be now. Stars, he loves the feeling of your arms around his, of you pressed against every inch of his side, grounding him. But it wasn’t his to enjoy. “I’m not uncomfortable. Just think this is a karking waste of time.”

Leaning away from you, Crosshair tries to jerk his arm out of your grasp. But you surprise him with your strength as you lay claim to the limb, making it clear to you both that he’s not going anywhere.

You tug gently on him, tucking your head slightly to catch his gaze. “Then I’m sorry for wasting your time. I just really wanted to bring you here.”

He buries his confusion, unwilling to open that door without knowing he could close and lock it tight. “That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid. Leave is rare, and when we do get it, it’s too short. I wanted you guys to make the most of this one, at least, since we weren’t too far away. Because you deserve to sleep in a bed in a room of your own without needing to wake up and take a night shift. Because you deserve a hot shower — a real one, not sonic — without a time limit. Rejecting all that is stupid, Cross.” You’re practically lecturing him, your voice strong as you look at him incredulously.  

You keep his gaze for a beat of silence before dropping it. Crosshair feels his lips moving, ready to refute your rather ridiculous nat-born assertions, but you cut him off, your voice dropping to almost a whisper, wavering in a way he’d never heard from you before.

“But there are other reasons, too, ya know? Selfish reasons. Because there’s no better cook in the galaxy than my dad. Because my mom has been begging to meet you for months and I’ve been distracting her on every holocall to save you from that fate. Because I got to meet your family and see where you came from. Your past. Got to see everything that made you, you. I wanted to show you mine.”

His arm is finally freed as your hands drop to your lap, eyes following the movement. He can see the nervous twitch of your fingers as you mindlessly toy with the fabric of your pants. Looking up to study your face, his eyes trail over the curve of your cheek where your eyelashes rested, your gaze still cast down.

“I won’t say sorry for wanting that. But I am sorry for whatever I did that sent you out here.”

Oh.

His chest feels like it’s ready to collapse in on itself again, more intensely this time. And there’s only one word he can think as he reaches out to direct your face to his, as his fingers skim the smooth skin of your cheek, as his eyes meet yours, hoping they convey that one word as yours scream your uncertainty:

Precious.

“You didn’t do anything. I don’t fit here.”

There it is. Simple. Easy. Delivered in his signature gruff tone that erased the hurt it took for him to say them, to accept them.

“Do I fit here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly, almost daring him to say no. A gesture so adorable and infuriating at the same time it makes his blood boil … for better and worse. Outwardly, though, all it earns is a roll of his eyes.

“You always ask such dumb questions?”

“Only in response to dumb statements.” You shoot back, response at the ready as the pair of you fall seemlessly into your natural rhythm.

He narrows his eyes. “Nothin’ dumb about it, doll. Not my scene.”

You shake your head, a small playful smile teasing your lips. He knows that smile means nothing but trouble and he can’t afford any more of that. Still, Crosshair can’t help but play along. I really am a coward.

“Well, if I belong here, then so do you.”

Just as simple. Just as easy. But it can’t be.

“That’s not—”

“It is,” you interrupt, leaning impossibly closer. “And if there’s somewhere you don’t feel comfortable, then I don’t belong there, either.”

Maybe he is a weak man. Because against all logic and instinct, when you tuck your head under his chin and curl up against him, Crosshair can’t do anything other than pull you firmly into his arms and hold you tight against him.

A stronger man would be able to keep a healthy distance. But you don’t seem to mind this weakness. And Maker knows he can only fight his own selfishness for so long.

“I belong with you, and you with me. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Your lips moving against the delicate skin of his neck sends shivers down his spine and you, likely thinking it’s from the cold, press further unto him. The ghost of a laugh at your sweet misunderstanding coats his lips before they press into the hair at the top of your head.

“I was afraid of storms too when I was young,” you croon, hands smoothing out the tufts of blonde.

She yawns, sinking further into you at your words. “I'm not afraid, we had storms on Kamino all the time.”

“Mmm. Still, when I was afraid, she would sit with me and watch the rain tap on the window. She’d tell me it was the sky’s way of saying hello. And we’d have a special routine to keep the storm away.”

She’s silent for a moment, then asks quietly, “How do we keep them away?”

“We would count between each thunder crack, each second was klick away, would you like to try?”

She nods, and the two of you stay like that for a while, counting down how far the storms have shifted and where they stay. It works like a charm of course, and the idle counting has the added benefit of lulling the girl to sleep, and you carefully shift her back in bed before exiting the space, carefully climbing down the ladder. The Marauder is silent now, save for the sounds of the storm. In the time you’ve spent soothing Omega, the rest of the Batch must have gone to sleep, save for Tech, who you join in the cockpit for a moment.

“Any chance of us getting takeoff?”

“Negative. The storm cell is only building in power, we will be spending the night here.”

You nod, then pull your knees up to your chest, noting the absence of his brother, your Hunter. “Has Hunter gone to sleep? I’m surprised he didn’t stop to say goodnight to me or Meg.”

“That is because he has not gone to sleep. Hunter does not enjoy the sound of storms, the vibrations and loud noise disrupts his senses, I suspect he is either in your shared quarters, though on one occasion he could be found in the lower cargo hold, if the sound travels too loud.”

You sigh, happy that he hasn’t abandoned your favorite nightly ritual of saying goodnight to Omega as a unit, then coming back to bed together to whisper sweet nothings, but also worried about his discomfort. You pat Tech on the shoulder in a way that serves as a verbal goodnight, and leave him to his devices in the cockpit.

Hunter tries his best to behave normally when you find him in your quarters, but the small metal space acts more like a tin can, it only amplifies each noise coming from the outside. He’s sitting upright as he can in bed when you join him, bandana still on, as if he hasn’t fully prepared to undress.

“I was worried you’d forgotten about us.” You chide as you dip into your bed. You’re careful not to touch him without his invitation, you’re not sure how sensitive he is right now.

He leans his body closer to you, opening an arm and inviting you in. “Forget about my two favorite girls? Not likely.” There’s a beat and a crack of thunder, and his breath comes out shaky and ragged. “How is she?”

“She’s asleep now, she’s afraid of thunderstorms, can you believe it? A Kaminoan who doesn’t like the rain.”

He laughs, then pulls you in closer to his chest, and you use the proximity as an excuse to reach up and untie his bandana, knotting your hands in the tender flesh of his scalp. He groans in thanks, and you’ve nearly successfully distracted him from the sensory overload that you can only imagine the repetitive tat tat tat of the rain on ship must be, when a lightning strike nearby sends the ship rattling. He hisses, the vibrations surely sending shockwaves up his spine.

“You know, a little birdy told me she might be the only stowaway who doesn’t like the rain.”

“Gotta… stop… talking… Tech.” He grits out as the rain increases in pressure, the sound building up louder. You’ve responded accordingly, begrudgingly backing off of him to give him the space you’re sure he needs.

“How can I help?”

“Just you being here helps me, you know that.” He reaches out to place a ground grasp on your leg, and rubs it soothingly, though you aren’t sure if it’s more for himself or you. “How come you like storms so much?”

You shrug, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to face him. He’s hard to make out in the lowlight, but you can see the tension in his jawbone. Your heart aches for him in these moments. Sure, his heightened senses were a survival skill, and they made him a more than adept partner, but moments like now, when they caused him so much pain? You wished you could just take it all away. “I don’t know, it reminds me of home I think. I used to be so afraid of the storms, and my mother tried everything to make me feel better.”

Hunter snorts, “hard to imagine you being afraid of anything.”

“Please, growing up on a farm there’s plenty to be afraid of.” You move off the bed then, getting an idea as you reminisce on your childhood. “My mother tried it all, we’d read, she’d sing songs, we’d count. It all worked to soothe me, but it never stopped making me afraid, you know?” You turn around to face him again and reach out your hands, sending your chin down to coax him forward.

“It’s not that I’m scared, you know that, right?”

“Course I do. Big bad Hunter isn’t scared of anything.” You pull him up and gently caress his jaw in your hands, fingertips tracing over the pretty inked spots before ghosting his lips with a kiss. “Do you trust me?”

“Course. With everything.”

You smile at the sentiment, he’s always so open with you, so soft. You lead him down the hallway, towards the ramp, and you’re happy now to realize you’ve both discarded your shoes, though you’re suddenly a little worried about your thin, white night dress. You press the few buttons that lower the ramp and it begins to move, sending a warm, wet blast of air up into the ship as it drops. You’ve been sent to a tropical system, and Tech has landed the ship in a small patch of land not horribly far from a village. The area is thick with vegetation, and even before the rain started you couldn’t help but feel as if you could feel the water in the air. Now, with the storm, it’s as if the air is made of soup.

Hunter follows you cautiously, eyes skeptical as you lead him out carefully into the rain. His eyes are squeezed shut, as if he’s preparing for something uncomfortable, and you’ve led him just below the ramp before closing it back up again. The inside of the ship is dark, meaning Tech has since retired to his quarters and is probably goggles deep in the holonovel you lent him, leaving you and Hunter alone to conduct your excitement.

“When I was a little girl, my mother took me out into a storm when I was just too afraid to sleep.” The wind is light, and it sends your and Hunter’s hair flying in a myriad of directions. You can feel your clothes start to dampen as you stay out here, but you can’t shake how soothing it feels, how refreshing the rain is. “I wasn’t afraid of the rain, you see. It was the noise I didn’t like. When you’re out in the rain, it’s actually really quiet. It’s the house that makes all the noise.” She was right, naturally, and you ended up sitting out in that rain for close to two hours playing, you remember her chasing you all across the pastures and fields. You’d woken up sick, but it had all been worth it. It’s a fond memory, and you think perhaps it’s why you like the rain so much now.

Hunter cracks open an eye, looks around, and opens the second. He breaths in, the way he does when he’s listening, and exhales something from deep within his chest. Like he’s actually relaxing. “It’s not as bad, actually being out in it.”

“I know. I am almost always right.” You sidle up to his side and wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the moment just being in the rain, slowly getting soaked together. It’s going to take you days to feel clean after this, what with the Marauder’s sonic shower, but you don’t really mind. It’s so refreshing, so rejuvenating. The feeling of newly formed mud between your toes has you feeling like a child again and you don’t know why, but you act on it. Breaking you and Hunter out of your trance, you take off, running through the clearing before turning over your shoulder, “come and get me, sergeant.”

He takes off with a grin and starts the chase. You’re fast, years spent running across farmland and then again through battlefields to administer aid have made your legs strong, but Hunter is stronger. He’s on you in moments, grabbing your waist from behind before spinning you to face him. You’re both laughing as you look at him, and you wrap your legs around his waist, his arms supporting the rest of your weight securely.

“You’re fast, but I’m faster verd’ika” he grins, and his hands are in your hair. You’re both soaked to the bone now, and you can tell by the way his eyes roam your form that your dress has turned entirely sheer with the rain, but you can’t help but conduct your own visual exploration of the way his blacks (and his hair) cling to his skin, giving you an even more intimate look at areas you’ve surely seen before. He must be doing the same thing, because it’s his voice that breaks the silence first. “You’re beautiful cyare.”

“Mmm,” you smile, running an affectionate hand along his cheek tracing the outline of his tattoos, his hands still placed firmly beneath your thighs. “Gotta compete with you, pretty boy.” He laughs, but his lips are on yours in a minute in a kiss that’s both longing and passionate, fueled by something carnal and pure. He’s such a complexity, your Hunter, always straddling both sides of a situation. You suspect it has something to do with bearing the weight of leadership, and now something akin to fatherhood.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, breathing softly. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

“Anytime. I’m always happy to sit with you. Rain or shine.”

He snorts, and the two of you rest in that moment again, you so secure in his arms. You’re certain you’ll wake up with a cold, you know it, but that doesn’t matter to you in this moment. It lingers, that feeling of security, before a crack of thunder has the trance broken, and the childish flame reignited in your soul. You wriggle free of his grasp and drop down to the squishy earth, and make to run from him again. “Oh no you don’t,” he starts, grinning wickedly, and goes to pull you in close, what he doesn’t account for though, is the slip of the mud on your feet, and his quick motion has you losing your footing and tumbling into the wet earth. The other thing he fails to think of, is your grip on his arm, as he falls beside you. This is how the two of you find yourselves here, caked in mud and breaking with laughter. He helps you up and then carries you back to the ship, as the two of you (unsuccessfully) quietly navigate back to your quarters in a fit of giggles.

The night ends with the two of you trying to squeeze into the tiny sonic shower, and both of your mud caked clothes being long forgotten on the floor.

When you awake the next morning to the sound of birds chirping, the two of you are less person and more tangled pile of limbs, each trying their best to hide their sniffles. No matter, you’ve got a long journey back to Ord Mantell and nothing to do, and you’re happy to stay in bed together the rest of the day, staring into each other's eyes. In fact, the two of you are getting a head start when you hear a low gasp and a thud (you imagine it to be a datapad) before Tech’s indignant, and accusatory, voice moves close to the door of your quarters. “what pray tell have done to my ship!?”

The night comes back in flashes to the both of you. The discarded clothes, the giggling, the kisses en route to the shower, the mud-

Oh. The mud.

The two of you dress quickly and step outside, and you have to bring your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. There, from the ramp to your quarters to the fresher, is a tell tale trail of two sets of muddy footprints. Hunter opens his mouth to apologize to Tech but his younger brother simply holds up a hand and walks away, massaging his temples as he does. Hunter moves to sneak a hand around your waist, kissing your temple and whispering in your ear as the two of you watch Wrecker point and laugh at the footprints on the floor.

You hadn’t seen Tech in a few days. This wasn’t abnormal. Sometimes he would fall into very long stints of being holed up in his workshop just creating and tinkering with things. You didn’t worry, though. That was his happy place. He’d come home when he was ready. Either he was hungry and ran out of food in his shop, needed someone to infodump to, or he just finally remembered that he missed you. 

This was all okay because you still visit him. There was a spot for you to sit and observe or take a nap just to be near him. If you did nap, Tech would sometimes drape a blanket over you, kiss your forehead, or even take a moment to rest himself.

One night he finally came into the house. He was tapping away on his datapad. His face was brushed with dirt and oil. You smiled. If Tech were to move his goggles even slightly, you’d probably find clean skin underneath. 

“Mesh’la,” he says, gaining your attention. “I didn’t realize how many rotations I had spent in there. Did you visit me?”

“A couple times,” you answered. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Tech looked up at you and smiled. His smile reached his beautiful eyes. He caressed your face and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I am so lucky to have you. I never thought I’d be able to find such an effortless balance between work and a relationship.”

The kiss left you with a dazed smile. “It just works out for us. You’re not the only lucky one.”

Tech sat his datapad down on the countertop. “Speaking of us,” he started while reaching into his pocket, “I have something for you.”

You perked up at those words. “What is it?”

“You must close your eyes.”

You did as he asked. 

Tech took the gift out of his pocket. You heard his awkward steps approach you and stand behind you. Raising a brow, you were increasingly curious but kept quiet. You felt something cross your clavicle and wrap around your neck with delicacy, ending behind you with Tech’s skilled fingers brushing across your skin briefly. 

“You may look.”

Blinking your eyes open, your hands raised to your collarbone to feel the item. You could barely see it. Tech grabbed his datapad then held it in front of you with both of his hands while still behind you. He opened up the camera.

Staring back at you on the screen is the hopeful gaze of Tech, waiting for your opinion, and the mirror image of yourself. You leaned forward to look at the necklace Tech has gifted you. 

The tiniest links have been crafted and laced together to make a beautiful looking twist in the chain. There is no charm or centerpiece to this necklace, but it shines so brilliantly. 

“Tech, this is beautiful! You didn’t have to…”

Tech smirks and you watch him do it on the camera still pointed at the both of you. “A lot of my projects have been to break down electronics and repurpose them for other things, and since gold is so incredibly conductive, there is a surplus of it in most items I work with. I’ve been keeping the gold set aside for future projects, and I decided to try my hand at making jewelry.”

Your eyes widened at his explanation. “Wait, Tech, you made this? For me?”

“But of course, darling. I hope it meets your standards.”

“Are you kidding me? This is incredible!”

Tech smiled and kissed your cheek. “Would you do me the honor of smiling, mesh’la?”

Since it was a rare sentiment, you obliged. You snuggled a little closer to Tech and smiled into the datapad’s camera. Tech snapped a photo of the two of you, and then another one with him kissing the side of your head. 

The photos were such a nice addition to his gift. He was being so affectionate that it was making your heart warm and your body melt. 

“Did you know that gold is the third most conductive metal? It pales compared to copper and the more impressive silver. They are not items I come across often. But, the symbolism in this necklace is that I have poured my conductive energy and intelligence into it so that you will always feel me with you. Especially on the days that I am incredibly busy. I hope that you get my meaning.” 

You nodded as your fingers brushed across the chain. Tech took a few strides away to find a drink. “Tech?” you called quietly.

“Yes?” he answered without looking over.

“I love you.”

Cuy’val Dar: Those who no longer exist

Osik: Shit

Udesii: Calm down

Kandosii: Nice one

‘ika: Little

Buir: Father

The rain lashed against your window, raging in the howling wind like it was trying to reach you. Each patter was faintly heard whipping into the thick transparisteel only to dash out of existence. The whole of this facility was state of the art, designed to weather the harshest of storms, protected to the hilt from catastrophic waves and jarring winds that would sweep you off the platforms and out to sea.

Your alarm started to buzz, an irritated grating noise that you had learnt to block out.

Everyday here was the same. The routine was rigid, structured down to the very minute, so the clones that were under your care got the most from their lessons.

With a sigh, you hauled yourself from your bed, glaring at the bright white that assaulted your eyes every time you blinked. Thankfully what the Kaminoans were paying you for doing this daily osik was enough to keep you going. And the boys weren’t that bad. Really.

Your armour was stacked up in the ‘fresher. You had barely needed it the last couple of years, having your arms full of babies and small children rather than weapons and other people’s appendages before you cut them off. Clutching the sink you steeled yourself to keep going, every morning was the same drag but as the day wore on it got easier. Until you fell asleep and you had to start all over again.

Slipping on a new set of fatigues you slapped your cheeks in an effort to startle yourself awake, trying to get that sharpness back that had been dulled from being in this white washed, aiwha-bait, infested hell hole.

First things first—breakfast.

The kids were awake by the time you got to their room and it looked like Fox had woken up on the wrong side of his bunk today. None of them even noticed you’d entered, standing in a circle as they chanted fight, fight to the two kids in the middle, really going for it.

You cocked an eyebrow when Fox slugged a decent left hook into the side of Cody’s face but the kid didn’t go down. He was dazed and Fox took advantage of that, yelling as he launched himself at his brother and flattening him.

Honestly. All before they’d even eaten.

“Udesii!” You pushed your way through the boys, hauling the angry red faced nearly four year old off the other and putting him in a rugby hold on your hip.

The others backed up, their caramel brown eyes wide as you glared at them all and suddenly they remembered what to do. Lining up, shoulders back, standing rigidly to attention. Cody groaned from his position on the floor specks of blood dripping from his nose or lips, you didn’t know, you didn’t care. Not this early in the day.

“Get up.” You grabbed his collar and got a look at his face as he sniffed and smeared the blood across his cheek.

“I’m ok, Sarge,” but as he spoke you could see blood between his teeth and you sighed.

“Go and see Mij,” you told him, shoving him towards the door. You still had hold of Fox who had gone remarkably still in your hold, he hung heavily and you knew he was hankering to get down. Being held like this was probably humiliating. So you jostled him into a better position and walked up and down the line of the others.

They were all identical to someone who didn’t know them. Their eyes were the same shade, their hair had the same cut, they could swap clothes and all still look exactly the same. You could tell them apart though. Noticing the slightly different shade of Rex’s eyes compared to Cody’s. Or the browner colour of Keeli’s hair next to the deep black of Wilco’s. And their personalities were all sparks from the same flame, some just burned hotter than others or channelled it differently.

“Rex’ika.” One of the boys stepped forward, sneaking a glance at Fox who was turning even more red as he hung his head as low as it would go. “What happened?”

Instantly they all started gabbing at once and you held up a hand, silencing them instantly. “I asked, Rex. Speak.” He drew himself up taller, pushing his shoulders back and you saw the frown marking his face.

“I’m not entirely sure, Sarge. I woke up to the sound of a scuffle as they had woken up first. Their shouting woke the others and that’s…” his shoulders sagged slightly but then he steeled himself and carried on. “That’s when we all got up to watch them.” Fox was getting heavy now, so you dumped him on his feet and he stood sullenly with his head down.

“None of you saw what started it?” You asked and they all shook their heads. “Fox’ika.” Crouching to his level you prodded his shoulder and he lifted a hand to rub his arm. “Why?”

“Because he grabbed my collar so he could get into the ‘fresher before me!”

“And that was reason enough to make him bleed, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” he pouted. “I didn’t mean to but he just made me so angry.” You sighed, shaking your head as you got up.

“Anyone would think I’ve got a bunch of Nulls on my hands,” you breathed. “Come on. Breakfast. Chop chop or you’ll miss out.” You watched them file out, Rex in the lead with Howzer on his heels, followed by Thorne, Wolffe, Keeli, Grey, Fox, Wilco and Bly.

This group of ten troublemakers were your boys for another a year before they joined the wider ranks. You oversaw their training, taught them to look after themselves as well as each other. It felt like you were failing at that at the moment.

You followed them to the mess hall where they each grabbed a tray and chose what they wanted this morning, sitting in neat rows at their usual bench and you joined them, feeling Cody’s absence.

“You’ve lost one,” a deep voice said behind you and you turned in your seat.

“Thanks for that observation, Jango. You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Fighting again?” He sat down at your bench with his son. Boba was older than your boys, (if you went by their visual age) only by a couple of years, but you could already see Jango’s influence over him. He glared at your cadets who stared at the older boy with wide eyes as they chewed silently.

“One’s in the medbay,” you said, chucking a haughty look at Fox who didn’t cow under yours and Jango’s combined scrutiny.

“I see the aiwha-bait hasn’t ruined them completely,” he murmured.

“They could be worse, I suppose.” You tossed the bland food back onto the tray, making a point to raid Skirata’s room for some uj cake for the boys later. “Eat up. We’ve got deecee training in 5 minutes.” There was a collective scuffle as they quickened their chewing, these boys were always hungry and you wondered if they had enough to eat at all times. But if you faltered in their training, they failed in their tests and then it reflected badly on you and they got punished. And nothing broke your heart more than seeing your boys with tears in their eyes because they didn’t achieve their best and they were made to relive that.

Exactly on the hour, they were lined up, dumping their rubbish and slipping their tray into a stack before heading off to the training area. This one was set in the middle of Tipoca, each area blocked off so multiple groups could train at one time. You and the rest of the Cuy’val Dar, working together to make an army. An army of children.

The boys spread out, Cody slipping in at the last minute and taking his place next to Rex. Each deecee was in pieces on the ground before them. The challenge was to make the blaster, correctly, and take out the targets before anyone else. Take the blaster apart and move onto the next weapon. Rinse and repeat.

“Go!” You barked, not needing to prepare them before your order, they knew the drill. You paced up and down, pursing your lips as you watched their little fingers deftly put together a weapon that could fell a bantha with one shot.

You heard the whir as the first deecee charged up successfully and Wolffe was off. His aim was perfect, it had been since he looked two years old. Next to go was Fox. The challenge now was for them to work effectively together, aware of each other in the field while staying on their main objectives.

Keeli was next, sliding in on his knees as he clocked a shot on the first target. Bly and Howzer went together, automatically splitting and taking opposite sides. You looked across at Rex, his gaze was on the cadet next to him as he waited for Cody to catch him up so they could go together.

Eventually they were all in the maze of targets and you watched their scores on the screen, leaning easily against the wall. Wolffe and Fox returned, taking apart their Carbines and turning to the rifles.

Not a word was spoken and you honestly wondered if they communicated telepathically. Sometimes it scared you how in sync they were but when they had the same brain patterns, getting the same training, some similar behaviour was inevitable.

Wolffe clocked the best numbers today, Fox not far behind and the rest were all fairly evenly matched. You tried not to think how they would soon be doing this with live rounds. And they wouldn’t be yours anymore.

You pressed some buttons as they waited patiently for the room to change, the droid targets disappearing, being replaced with a weapons wrack.

“Pair up.” Your commands were needless but sometimes you just needed to hear someone say something. Even if it was yourself. “Today we’re using blades.” The boys put on their contact sensors and each took a knife from the rack. Fox and Thorne, Wolffe and Howzer, Rex and Cody, Bly and Wilco, Keeli and Grey all stood there looking at you. “Ready positions.” You activated their sensors with a touch of a button and you saw them all tense. “Begin.”

You watched the hits increase on the screen, seeing Howzer was coming out on top today and you felt a sense of pride. Thorne was beating Fox, which probably wouldn’t go down well. Usually those two were thick as thieves.

“Switch!” There was a groan, Keeli tipped his head back, making it obvious he didn’t want to switch from Grey. Fox pushed him causing the cadet to stumble which started another fight. Before you could move Rex and Howzer stepped in, kids being adults.

“Udesii!” You stressed for a second time today. Spreading your arms as you stepped between them. “What crawled in your fatigues and died today?” But Fox just glared at you. You thought he was going to spill whatever was troubling him, but then he lowered his gaze.

“Nothing,” he muttered, shrugging off Howzer.

“Fine. Continue.”

There were no more incidents. They went to lunch and ate in silence, shooting looks at one another as Fox concentrated on his food.

You hated the way the ration cubes coated your mouth in a chalky paste but you made a point of eating what they did in the mess hall. If only the Kaminoans would vary it every now and again. Maybe you could bring it up with Jango. He was the golden boy after all.

After lunch it was study time. They sat at desks and just absorbed. It really blew your mind the amount of information they went through everyday. Lists of species, equipment they’ll be using including their kit, so when they finally grew into it they’d know exactly what they were doing. Ships and their specs, droids and their functions—it just carried on and on flashing before their eyes. They talked now, shouting facts to one another, answering questions and relaxing a little.

You let them. As long as they stayed on topic you enjoyed watching their interactions. Occasionally you sat with them, answering what questions you could but already painfully aware their knowledge surpassed yours dramatically. You were just a supervisor until they went up to the next level.

Dinner was more relaxed, they talked, laughed and acted like children for a moment. It made you ache inside, knowing their lives were going to be so short, bred for a single purpose that could make their lives even shorter.

It was getting darker, not that you could tell on this infernal, cloud covered hellhole. You were walking the boys back to their quarters when you came across Rav and her clutch of lads with their noses pressed against the thick transparisteel. They sounded excited, gasping and giggling as they pointed outside and you let your boys blend in with hers.

“What’s going on?” You asked quietly.

“Kal. He’s got his hands full,” she chuckled. You leaned to look outside, not seeing anything at first until you realised you were looking at a foot on the outside. Your eyes travelled up to see two young clones climbing the dome of the mess hall, in the driving rain.

“Kandosii!” You exclaimed with a grin, as Mereel caught your eye and gave you a quick wave. “Keep your hands on the line, boy.”

“I don’t know how Kal hasn’t died of a heart attack,” she muttered. “Come on, boys. Bedtime.” Her lads separated from yours and carried on walking in the opposite direction.

You led the way for your lot, listening to them talking about the Nulls like they were some sort of other species. But if the Nulls were causing mischief…it meant Kal’s room was empty.

“Inside…if I come back and you’re fighting or doing anything you shouldn’t, I will make you watch me eat Kal’buir’s uj cake. Got it?”

“Yes, sarge!” Came an excited, blended response and you nodded. Closing the door, you hurried off, keying in the code for Kal’s room and hoping he didn’t catch you red handed. Rather you’d let him assume it was his boys than you, not that he’d be mad. You just liked him wondering where all his food was going.

“Kandosii,” you whispered, dragging the sticky heavy cake out and slicing it up neatly. You were able to get five large chunks and halve them, pushing the cake back together so it didn’t look like any was missing. You’d done this way too many times. Wrapping up the slices you quickly exited his room and went back to your boys.

You found them sitting on their bunks, or sitting on the crate looking outside. Rex was happily swinging his legs over the edge of his bunk, a little smile alighting his face when he saw you return. They clamoured around you, excited whispers filled the room until they were all chomping happily. That would keep them quiet for a moment. But you had one slice left.

Fox was in his bunk, back turned to the room as he pretended to be asleep already. You even checked on him, putting a hand on his back and feeling him tense up.

“All right boys! Wash, teeth and then bed.” They took turns and you watched proudly until they were all settled in their beds. “Lights out,” you warned them, plunging the room into darkness save for the lightning that slashed through the room.

Back in your quarters you left the cake on the side. You debated eating it but something said, you were going to need it.

Sure enough, just as you started to doze there came a small noise at your door. Activating the panel it opened to reveal Fox standing with his hands behind his back. He scuffed the floor with his bare toes and refused to look at you.

“Come on then,” you sighed. He seated himself on the little sofa you had, his eyes watching every move you made as you put the cake on a plate and handed it to him. He didn’t take it and you gently sat beside him. “Fox’ika…you can talk to me.” His hands fisted in his lap and you gasped when he suddenly dived into your arms. His grip was tight and that’s when you noticed he was shaking slightly, so you put the plate down and hugged him back. Rubbing little circles along his shoulders as he quietly cried into your top. You murmured to him in Mando’a, letting him know he was ok while all the time hating this entire programme and what it was doing.

These boys had only existed for less than 2 years and already had seen and done more than the average human adult in their entire lifetime. The strain was immense, you knew because you could feel it, you saw it everyday. Just because they didn’t know any better didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle. They were human, real blooded humans after all and they needed some nurture amidst everything else.

“What happened with Cod’ika?” You finally asked when his emotions had slowed down.

“I was coming to see you,” he admitted straight away. “He was awake and saw me get up, I thought he was going to tease me…” he trailed off and you took a breath.

“So you punched him instead?” Fox sat up and rubbed his sleeve over his face, giving a shrug that told you everything you wanted to know. “Eat your cake.” He dived on the plate with relish, getting crumbs all over the seat but you didn’t care. Your attention was drawn back to the door and Fox looked at you with wide, scared eyes. “It’s ok,” you reassured him, slipping your blaster free of the holster that hung on the back of your chair. It was habit, to react this way, you didn’t trust the Kaminoans as far as you could throat them. You checked the safety and then punched the door open only to come face to face with a group of shining wide eyes.

“Is Fox’ika in here?” Wolffe asked, a slight scowl marking his brow. “His bunk is empty.” Howzer eyed your blaster with the gaze of someone who knew what he was looking at.

“A modified DE-10 pistol,” he rattled off.

“Yeah. Of course you knew that.” The safety clicked back on and they all exhaled as one. “Get in here before the aiwha-bait see you.” You checked the corridor and shut your door. The nine of them clambered onto the sofa, squeezing around Fox as he broke off tiny pieces of his cake and shared them with everyone. “Now, why am I getting the special treatment tonight?”

“We were worried,” Cody spoke up. “We thought Fox’ika got in trouble.”

“No one is in trouble,” you told them. Their companionship touched you and it made tears threaten to spring to your eyes. They fought like siblings, because they were siblings.

Their heads followed your motions as you crouched next to the sofa. “This, right here, I want you to remember it.”

“Why?” Asked Grey with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Because one day you’re going to be scattered. There’s going to be moments where you think nothing is worth continuing for. When you hit those dark moments I want you to think back to this, right here. The warmth in your chest,” as you spoke you prodded at Wilco’s chest and he suppressed a giggle. “The feeling of always having a brother at your side even when you fall out.” Now you prodded Cody and he had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Because no matter what happens you will all have each other, through thick and thin, through the battles and the sickening distance. Nothing can break this bond you have.” They all looked at each other, Bly leaned into Thorne and rested his head on his shoulder, Rex put his arm around Fox and the rest huddled in for the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Cod’ika,” Fox spoke up unprompted.

“It’s ok,” Cody replied. “Made one of my teeth wobbly, see!” They crowded round to get a look at his tooth that barely moved but he looked so proud. You bet Mij had told him the punch made it wobbly to make him feel like it was worth it.

“Come on, you lot. I need to sneak you back to your room.”

“Can we stay here?” Keeli asked quietly but the rest didn’t say anything, just turning one by one to look at you with pleading eyes. How could you resist?

“Ok. Ok, make yourselves comfy.” You went over to your bed, surprised when they came over and clambered over the sheets to settle in bedside you. “Oh, you actually meant, here. With me.”

“It’s cold in our room,” Thorne said. “Reminds me of the tank.” The others all murmured in agreement and you closed your eyes, laying back against the pillow and having your arms spread so at least four of the boys could lay on them.

The others pressed in around you and soon enough they drifted off, becoming heavy deadweights that cut the blood supply off to all your extremities. Still, you’d rather face down the entire population of Death Watch than move any of these sleeping troublemakers from your side.

It was as I stared unseeing at those scars, thoughts coming and going absent a moment’s true consideration, that I felt small. I’d never known fear could cut so deeply, that the body was capable of such terror, and yet I’d suffered beneath it for so long as the worlds around me continued in blissful ignorance. Children played as I screamed. New lovers relished the touch of another as I died. Stars were born as I begged for everything to end, and yet I now stood in the same room of the Marauder that I’d lived in for well over a year. The air still held the stale taste of too many rotations through the recyclers. The engines hummed with that same subtle rumble fading into the ambiance of the occasional beep of an alarm, and beyond the door, if I bothered to listen, I was sure I’d hear Wrecker’s boisterous voice or catch a sharp retort from Crosshair.

Even in that haze of wandering memories, my heart still leapt at the thought of him. He’d refused to let me so much as change my own bandages during the week we’d remained on the Negotiator. What arguments I’d tried to offer failed beneath the gentleness of his touch, the way his eyes hardened and his lithe body curled over mine. It didn’t feel possessive. It felt safe, and that was far too precious to refuse. Between those moments, however, I’d rarely seen him.

Only after noting his absence for several days did I learn that he kept vanishing to the training rooms, seeking anyone foolish enough or brave enough to spar and ensuring what minor injuries he sustained had been tended long before returning to my side. I wanted to talk to him about it but found myself unable to force the question past my lips, too worried that I already knew the answer to risk asking, because what could I say if he was fighting as a means of distracting himself from everything I wasn’t yet willing to speak of? If he felt driven to escape a helplessness I knew too well, a helplessness he only felt because of me? It had been something of a relief to get word of our latest assignment if only to break that routine.

With my wounds now all but healed and the lot of us en route to Alderaan, some semblance of normalcy was finally beginning to return. Friendly bickering again flowed between the brothers, free of that tension that had made my heart twist since Devaron, and no one shot away to hide the instant the medbay door opened or purposefully avoided eye contact if we were in the same room. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. That return to normalcy, however, brought with it a quiet I wished I could appreciate, but the thoughts it granted freedom to were ones that robbed me of breath and left me staggering amidst memories I couldn’t force back.

“Doc?” My attention snapped away from those lingering scars, chest hitching in a small gasp at the suddenness with which that daze fled me. Echo stood barely a handful of steps away, brows draw lightly together above eyes full of the beginnings of worry. I hadn’t noticed the hiss of the door opening or closing, hadn’t heard whatever initial greeting he’d offered as he entered. Had he asked me something? How long had he been speaking before falling silent at the realization that I wasn’t even aware of his presence?

“Sorry, Echo; guess I got a bit lost in thought.” I said softly with a gentle smile that did little to chase the concern from his gaze. “What did you say?” He hesitated a moment, jaw tensing, and I couldn’t help but fear I’d missed something vital in whatever words he’d spoken while my mind had floated absent intent.

“Just… wondered if you’d eaten yet? Figured I’d grab you something since I was headed there anyway.” My heart sank at the offer, certain that had nothing to do with why he’d really come here, but the tentative truce between us was still too delicate to strain beneath blunt questions. I turned my attention back to the counter, using the excuse of gathering the discarded cloth to hide the threat of disappointment from my gaze.

“Probably a good idea.” I sighed despite how unappealing one of those flavorless bars sounded. “I’m finished here, anyway, so I’ll come with you.” A stranger wouldn’t have noticed the tension steal through him, the delay preceding that forced smile. A close friend wouldn’t have hesitated to address them. I noticed and said nothing, caught in the lingering uncertainty of where we stood, terrified that I might push him away again with one poorly chosen word.

“Have you reviewed the mission brief, yet?” He asked, vying for some attempt at nonchalance as we started from the medbay. I nodded, still a bit confused by it. We were making a delivery to the governing body. Given the relatively safe location of the planet, using a squad with the immaculate record Hunter and his brothers boasted made little sense. Echo let out a small chuckle at my expression, and my heart leapt at the sound.

“I think Cody sent us on this one as a bit of a break.” I didn’t fight the look of surprise that drew my attention back to him, though the darkness that followed left me turning away just as quickly. He was babying us because of me… sending us as a glorified delivery service. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful for the reprieve or enraged at how badly I needed just that: a respite from the unending horrors of this nightmare of a war.

“I don’t think he meant it as an insult.” At that, a quick huff escaped me, cheeks warming from how effortlessly he read me.

“I think he meant it as an olive branch more than anything.” I retorted, pleased to glimpse the smirk those words brought to his lips.

“Or an excuse to get Crosshair off his ship as soon as possible.” He mused, voice lowering as he leaned subtly closer to me, and I found myself biting back a string of laughter at his conspiratory tone.

I wasn’t surprised to find Wrecker in the small kitchette as we entered, a few empty wrappers already littering the table with a third already half eaten. His eyes lit up when he saw us.

“Did he tell you?!” The vibrant excitement in his voice was almost enough to make me hesitate, eyes flicking back to Echo for a moment.

“I’m going to guess not yet?” I replied, brow hitching expectantly. The arc didn’t bother even trying to explain before his brother jumped to his feet.

“They got this celebration tomorrow on Alderaan! Tech says they only do it every five years!” He purged the news in a loud, eager rush of glee that I was helpless against, lips instantly drawing up into a broad grin.

“Tomorrow? Are going to make it?” A quiet whisper of fear coiled in my chest, images of too many strange faces milling about overly pretentious floors as music danced through the air, but I refused to grant it purchase in the wake of Wrecker’s delight.

“Yup! Hunter even said we’d have the whole night to see it while the ship gets fueled up!”

“It’s outside,” Echo added softly, and I couldn’t quite meet his gaze despite how my body automatically shifted toward him, too aware of what prompted him to offer the gentle reassurance. “Up in the mountains.” Alderaan’s snowy peaks were renowned for their timeless beauty, and the knowledge that we wouldn’t be confined to some inescapable prison veiled in the guise of splendor and finery proved the perfect balm to the quickening of my heartbeat.

“We’ll have to bundle you up with a couple extra layers.” I didn’t doubt that he heard the gratitude warming my words as I finally found the strength to look at him, and the kindness in those eyes shown untainted by the distance that still haunted us.

“Pretty sure I’ll be thawing out the whole trip back regardless how many sets of blacks I put on.” He grumbled, but there was no heat to the complaint. I offered a sympathetic smile and bumped my shoulder lightly against his chest before treading further into the small room to retrieve some rations for us.

“Did Tech mention what all we might expect at this event?” I knew Wrecker would have seen through the subtleties of how Echo eased that fear from me; knew he’d likely understood the instant my gaze first turned away from him, just as I knew he understood the true reason behind my question, and I loved him for how readily he answered my unspoken plea for a distraction as he raptly described what he remembered of Tech’s earlier explanation: of the group of artists that had lived and died centuries prior, but who’s works of Alderaan’s beauty became so renowned throughout the galaxy as to alter the very fate of the planet, inspiring countless others to seek out those natural landscapes to witness that beauty for themselves. He spoke of the promise of endless venders offering unique food and drink and all manner of goods, and he drew no attention to why I sat so quietly beside him, why I failed to respond with my usual glee to his animated retelling, but he was not silent in the face of my stillness, powerful body shifting ever so subtly about mine, hand gentle in every brief touch that somehow never lasted too long, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but relief at his unspoken offer for a comfort that was so soft as to barely be noticeably beyond the unwavering sense of safety it granted me.

It was late. Offensively late. The medbay lay illuminated in the faint glow of a monitor I hadn’t been able to bring myself to turn off, knowing what darkness awaited me the instant I flicked that switch, what terrors lingered in the shadows vying for any excuse to strike. Crosshair had said nothing about it as he shifted atop my bed, groggily holding the blanket open with feigned impatience, but I couldn’t dismiss that flare of shame at yielding to that fear. The instant I settled into him, however, the warmth that enveloped me as he fit himself perfectly around my too tense form and let out that deep, quiet sigh of contentment robbed me of all thought beyond the feeling of his chest dancing with unhurried breaths against my back, the strength of his arms holding me with a covetous need, and I’d found myself drifting into a far kinder sleep that I had any right to hope for.

I loathed the unknown disturbance drawing me from that gentle slumber, jaw tensing beneath an attempt at denial that I might simply ignore whatever it was and slip back into that blessed nothingness. Crosshair lay perfectly limp against me, face tucked into my hair with that precious stillness of sleep. Resigned to a late-night visit to the privy, I reluctantly tried to slip away from him, laughter threatening to bubble past pursed lips at the tiny groan that escaped him as his arms tightened petulantly around me, but he showed no signs of waking as I finally managed to detangle myself from his embrace.

Footsteps as near to silent as I could manage, I tread carefully down the hall, tiptoeing past the bunkroom, though only Wrecker and Echo lay within, both far too lost to their own blissful sleep to note my movements. It wasn’t until I’d nearly reached the privy door that something on the very edge of perception left my blood running cold. I couldn’t say what it was, not yet, but my body seemed drawn toward it, wide eyes locked on the fore of the ship as my legs carried me forward despite the sudden urge to flee.

Even after some recognition began to note the sound of broken gasps amidst free-flowing water, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. There was a haunted sense of familiarity in the way I watched myself move through the ship; in the automated motions I didn’t have the presence of mind to even try to stop.

“…severe forms of torture.” There was a weight to that normally clinical voice; a dread that even he couldn’t fully suppress.

“Tech.” Hunter’s hushed voice barely registered as he turned sharply to face me, but I couldn’t focus on him. I hadn’t even noticed myself climb down the ladder into the cockpit.

“Who ordered the hit?!” I don’t remember when that man’s voice had filled with such anger.

“It’s rare for anyone to endure longer than a couple minutes… what she went through”

“Tech!” Hunter barked, finally ripping his brother’s attention from the audio clip. I didn’t see the look in his eyes as he followed Hunter’s gaze toward me.

“Just tell me who planted the kriffing bomb!”

“I don’t know!” It didn’t sound like my voice. It was enraged and terrified and ruined by hours of screaming. Hunter’s hand flared toward Tech, but he sat frozen – caught – as I approached on strides faltering beneath the tremble just beginning to steal through me.

“That’s krayt spit, and you kriffing know it! Who ordered the hit?!” Part of me wanted to be impressed at how clear the recording was, mind eager to detach from the rush of liquid that followed my every response, the way my lungs panicked and burned with the afterimage of that agony.

“Just kill me, you hut’uunla chakaaryc!” I’d heard Warthog say that once… even Wolffe had been taken aback, and only Sinker would tell me what it meant when I’d asked. That man surely had no idea what I’d called him, but the violent slap that tore from the speakers followed by the seemingly endless flood of water and desperate coughs left no uncertainty that he’d fathomed a guess.

“…Doc.” My hand was reaching out, senses dulled to all but the echoes of my nightmares screaming with such haunting clarity from the speakers, deaf to Hunter’s quiet call.

“Who was behind the attack?!”

“I don’t know!!” That voice was sobbing and screaming and so utterly broken.

My fingertips barely brushed the console before the recording stopped, but I could still hear it… the gush of water… I could feel it’s chill tear the warmth from my flesh; felt it flooding my mouth and nose… and I felt that undeniable, visceral fear of death creeping through me.

Hunter shifted hesitantly toward me, but I merely shook my head. The movement was so slight, I barely felt it, but it instantly left him frozen, shoulders sinking beneath emotions I was still far too raw to try to name.

Without a word, I stepped away from them, away from whatever apologies or questions or murmured reassurances might be festering atop their tongues, my eyes still staring blindly at the endless buttons and switches decorating the console, and when I turned away, when I began to leave in the same silence in which I’d arrived, neither could bring themselves to try calling out again.

Any other night, I would have cringed at the thought of waking him. I would have strained myself to slip back into his embrace as carefully as possible, breath held in my chest until I was sure my intrusion hadn’t robbed him of that empty sleep, but I could spare little thought toward such things. He was warm. And he was safe. And I didn’t bother to even slide beneath the blanket before pressing myself against him.

Crosshair’s torso swelled with a sharp inhale, brows drawing together with some mixture of annoyance and confusion, but then he went still. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, body curling into his as though I might hide from the memories still raging through my mind. He studied me for mere seconds before shifting in careful, unhurried movements, one arm slipping beneath me to wrap around my shoulders while he brought his other hand up to just whisper against my cheek, the unspoken question clear in that tender gesture.

Again, I felt my head give the slightest shake, unable to offer anything more. His thumb trailed the ridge of my cheekbone, touch featherlight, before letting his hand brush gently through my hair to rest against the back of my neck, holding me with just enough force for me to feel his strength, and a shuttered exhale escaped me that left us both clinging just that much harder to each other.

He didn’t speak throughout the night, but the occasional dance of his fingers or touch of his lips in something too gentle to be called a kiss reassured me that he was still awake, still holding me until that tension began to slip away. I don’t know how long we laid there, letting the minutes and hours pass in that perfect quiet, but when I finally heard the steady thrum of his heartbeat over those horrid screams, I wanted to sob. I wanted to shout beneath the disdain I felt toward myself and the apologies I didn’t have the strength to voice. I wanted to tell him that he could leave; that I wouldn’t blame him for needing to separate himself from the mess I’d become, but I couldn’t stop my grasp from tightening around his shirt at the very thought, and when he responded without hesitation, when his arms nearly crushed me against him, I abandoned even the memory of fear that he’d want me to grant him that escape.

In the morning, I’d thank him. In the morning, I’d try to offer some manner of an explanation that he was long past due, but for what few hours still remained in that façade of night that meant nothing in the emptiness of space, I let myself give in to the simple need for his presence and the quiet it granted me. I let myself be weak that I might find solace in his strength, and I let myself love him with every atom of my being for the selflessness of his comfort.

Next Chapter

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You’d felt pain before, there was no arguing that. You’d knocked your head on the underside of a speeder, marking you with a splitting concussion and weirdly, a metallic taste in your mouth you struggled to get out. You’d trained with Hunter, the two of you going round for round in hand to hand combat, the kind that had you convinced you could physically feel your muscles splitting. Still, neither of these things could prepare you for this, the raw feeling in the back of your throat, like dragging knives across a sunburn each time you dared to swallow. Not to mention your rapidly fluctuating body temperature, a cough that won’t quit, and a head that feels it’s been stuffed with cotton balls. You are definitively down bad.

You’re currently sitting half upright, half reclined in Wrecker’s bunk, Omega donating one of her extra blankets and Lula to your cause. Tech lowered the lighting in the room to keep your eyes focused, and you’ve been communicating with your datapad to save your voice from the aforementioned knife stabs. The door slides open before you can process it, and Omega walks in holding a small tray, Wrecker’s hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Go on, she’s gotta be hungry.” He urges, and Omega walks close to you, her lip quivering.

“Hi,” she begins, and you smile, tapping quickly on your datapad before flipping it over to her.

Hi sweetheart, did you bring me something?

“We thought you might want some soup, I used to watch Nala Se make it on Kamino.” She sets the tray down in front of you and your heart wants to just break at the sight. Oh, oh of course, this is why she had been so broken up about your bug. How many times had she had to watch her brothers go into the infirmary and never come out? The thought hurts more than any pain in your voice, and you struggle to respond, to put on a brave face.

“I’ll be ok,” you whisper to her, and the sound of your voice, cracked and all, is enough to elicit a smile from the young girl. She beams, nearly knocking Tech over as he comes to stand in the door frame next to his brother.

“You’re due for another vitals check,” Tech states, and you can’t help the small whimper that escapes your lips. Wrecker moves to sit next to you on the bunk, his tall, solid form offering some semblance of comfort as you type furiously on your datapad.

“She says ya’ can stop calling it a ‘vitals check’ and just say takin’ her temperature.” Wrecker huffs, reading off your screen while you look up at him with big, weepy eyes. “Stop pokin’ my girl, let her rest, would ya’?”

“Wrecker, if she is to get better, she needs to be consistently and accurately monitored.”

“I thought you said she’s just got a bug.” His eyes narrow at the tone, and Tech rolls his eyes.

“It is just a bug. Still, given the fact that her genes are not modified to resist illness like ourselves, and she is evidently not up to date on her vaccinations like Omega, it’s important we keep an eye on her.”

“She says it’s not so easy to find a med center on Jakku.” He says, before grabbing the temperature gauge from his brother's hand, shoo-ing him with the other. “I’ve seen ya’ do this twenty times now. Let me do it, she’s more relaxed with me anyway.” Tech makes a move to resist, you think, but thinks better of it at Wrecker’s insistent stare. He puts his hands up in surrender before leaving the room, tossing you a curt, “feel better” as he does.

You scooch closer to the wall to make room for him as best you can. It’s always a tight squeeze for the two of you in this bunk but now he’s treating you like you’re made of flimsiplast, settling gently next to you. His hand comes up to brush one of the (definitely damp) strands of hair off your forehead, noting the way his hand leaves a trail of chill bumps down your skin.

“You cold, cyar’ika?”

“Nah,” you whisper and lie, and you can’t tell which makes him frown more.

“Not s’posed to be using your voice right now,” he murmurs, but just leans in closer to you so your next words are quieter.

You hum in response, pressing your body closer to his in an attempt to leech some of his warmth. Wreck is always warm, hot even, a fact that normally has the two of you shedding layers and clothes often to avoid sweating to death. Now, trapped beneath layers of blankets and a fever that’s subsided into a bone chilling cold, you’re desperate for the warmth he provides. Wrecker’s no idiot, he can read you clearer than anyone you’ve ever met, and can interpret this need from you in a heartbeat.

“C’mere,” he sighs, opening his arms and allowing you to crawl nearly on top of him, lacing your legs around one of his massive thighs and resting your head on the solid, muscled pillow of his chest. His arms settle around you gently, as if he’s afraid to hurt you after all this time. The temperature gauge is pressed against your forehead, and you look up at him, all fever stricken and delirious and blissfully happy as he reads the numbers, clearly content with what the screen shows. “You’ve broken your fever!”

“Man, I feel better already!” you chide, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, not shying away when things get gross.

“I just wish ya’ would take the bacta shot,”

“We only have a few of them, it’s just a bug, I’ll be better soon. ‘M not gonna take something that could save your life one day.”

“I know, I just hate knowing that you’re hurtin’, and there’s nothin’ I can do. S’not fair.”

“Wreck,” you pause as your frame is wracked by coughs, a chesty one that has him grimacing, “you being here is doing plenty. I promise.”

He smiles at the tone, and pulls you closer into his side. You relish at the warmth that radiates off of him in droves, and curl around him as best you can.

“This sucks,” you whimper, and he responds by running a hand gently across your hair and down your back.

“I know it does, but just try and rest now, ok?” he asks, and you can only whimper in response. He presses a kiss to your forehead that placates you, and wrapped in his arms and his warmth, you drift off into the best sleep you’ve had in days.

* * *

The morning rolls around and you crack open your eyes, delighted to find Wrecker still firmly against you in the bunk. It’s earlier than you’d like to be awake, but when you open your mouth to yawn, and brace yourself for the knives and pain, nothing comes. There’s a dull ache and a bit of a scratch in your throat, but nothing bad. The cotton balls have left your head, and when you clear your throat, no cough follows. Wrecker wakes up at the sound of your voice and beams down at you.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he mumbles, kissing you softly on the cheek.

“Wreck, I think you’ve healed me,” you smirk, adjusting yourself and tossing your legs over his hips so you can recline fully on his chest, “Don’t feel so bad anymore.”

“‘Course I did,” he smiles, running his hands down your back, “I knew what you needed all along.”

You really had no idea what brought you to this godforsaken dust pile. Well, technically it was a collective bantha shitload of grief and a well placed advertisement promising a new life and a new career. What the advertisement promised was the aforementioned new life and career, somewhere exotic where no one knew your name. What the advertisement didn’t disclose until you were on the landing platform of the Mos Eisley spaceport with your bags in hand was what an absolute wasteland Tatooine really was. In reality, you could’ve coughed up the cash and went home to Coruscant, or even to your birth system, but what was there to go back to? Echo, your love and light and bright spot in every way, was gone, he’d been gone since the Citadel and there was no chance he was coming back. You couldn’t keep dragging his brothers down when they came to visit you, or moping around your friends’ wine nights. Besides, your credits went far here and you were out of the way enough to escape the general turmoil of the war–and the foundation of the Empire.

The work came easy, and you settled into a stable routine. The cantina paid fine, and you were able to afford a small house in one of the lesser crime ridden areas of the town. Serving drinks was simple and mind numbing, and you found it easy to bat your eyelashes and flirt your way into extra tips. Every so often a rogue bounty hunter or homesteader tried to take you out, and once or twice you even obliged. The last man you agreed to go out with, a quiet moisture farmer named Timo, became one of your closest friends on the system when you explained you just didn’t have it in you. You hated pulling the “dead boyfriend” card, you had built your character here on being strong and dependable, so just settled with calling him your ex. And so he remained your ex Echo, allowing you only the quiet moments of the night to truly mourn him.

What you hadn’t counted on, exactly, was how hard it was to stay dead.

*

Timo was hunched over the bar, sipping some new ale your boss had smuggled in recently when his eyes pointed over to the group of men sitting down nearby. “New bounty hunters?”

You eyed them suspiciously, four men, two with their backs to you. Of the two who faced you, one had the familiar face and stature of a clone trooper, altered only by his shaggy hair and face tattoo, and the other appeared to be his brother, though you hadn’t recalled ever seeing a clone of that size and stature before. You’d seen a trooper or two around here before, but seeing a full squad was surprising. The other two men appeared buried in their work, and your heart ached at the sight of cybernetics on one of the men’s bodies. You looked a little further and your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting back to Timo. “Did they bring a fucking child in here?”

Timo looked over before bringing a hand up to his mouth, stifling a laugh. “I mean, when in Mos Eisley I guess?”

You made to move over there, you rarely got involved in customer’s business, frankly you were convinced that's how you’d survived this long, but a child in the bar was evidently your line. You leaned closer to yell at them when an all too familiar voice broke through the air.

“Right, ‘cuz Cyd’s never given us a reason to distrust her before.”

You knew it was crazy, he was dead and there were quite literally a million other people with that voice, but it was so him. His cadence, his tone, it was all so surreal it had you dropping the glass you were carrying onto the floor, and you dropped to follow it before the troopers turned to look at you. Timo glanced down worriedly at you, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open. A memory, one forced down in a feat fueled by both pain and survival, fizzled into your brain.

You were both tangled in your bed, your hands dancing around the tufts of black curls you had your fingers threaded through as Echo murmured sweet nothings into your neck.

“Why do you have to leave, why can’t we just run away to Scarif or something?” you murmured, bringing a hand down to cradle his cheek. He leaned to press his lips against your palm.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know, I’d never really ask you to. You know I’m always here waiting for you.”

He’d smirked, pushing himself off of your chest and placing both strong arms on either side of your head. “You’ve never given me a reason to distrust you before.”

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been down there, or how frozen you must’ve been, because Timo was suddenly disappearing from behind the counter and approaching the troopers. You heard his voice murmur something, and more voices responded, before he dashed back to where you crouched behind the bar. “I got help, these two guys are soldiers or something, they said they can check if you’re hurt-”

“Timo…” you groaned, but your voice was pulled back out of your throat when you looked up into Echo’s wide eyes, filled with a heartbreaking combination of fear, shock, and complete adoration.

“Echo?” you asked, voice barely traveling past a whisper, and his eyes widened again in realization that it really was you. Your name came across his lips so soft it was like a prayer, and his arm reached down over the bar to help you up. You grabbed his hand, still not sure if he was even real, how this was even happening. You glanced at your friend who was staring between the two of you with a concerned curiosity, and to the other goggles wearing trooper who seemed to be making the same expression. “Timo, this is Echo.”

“Ahh, the ex. Nice to meet ya’!” Timo extended his hand to Echo and he shot a look at you.

“The ex?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and shooting a glare at Echo, “I hardly think that is our biggest issue right now.”

“No, it certainly is not,” goggles trooper stated, looking at the datapad in his hands, “it appears Echo is on the brink of a heart attack.”

“Great, that makes two of us.”

*

It was a short and relatively silent walk to your apartment. Timo had told your manager you had fainted and, given your spotless record, he agreed to give you the rest of the day off. Echo and his squad, and their child soldier, followed you to your house, where you promised they’d be safe and he promised he would talk. It was hard not to stare at him as you walked side by side. He was your Echo, but so much had changed. He was pale and still slightly gaunt, as if the mental scars would never feel. His legs looked to be cybernetic below the mid thigh, and one arm had been replaced by more circuitry and ended in a heavy looking scomp link, not to mention the ports and wiring that wrapped around his head. Above all, he just looked sad. You unconsciously ran a hand through your hair. You didn’t feel much different. 

The walk ended shortly and you approached the house. Echo turned to face his brothers when you started unlocking the door. “Guys, it’s fine we can trust her, she’s my ex.” He had huffed as the group of you walked inside. 

“Well technically I’m your widow but that seems to be a little redundant now doesn’t it?” You nearly chucked your keys onto the small table near the door, and the child soldier, whose name you learned was Omega, burst in infront of them.

“Look at this place! It’s like a real home!” She yelped, and your heart softened at the way he smiled down at her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Maybe this was why Echo hadn’t called, hadn’t reached for you. He had a family now, and it was becoming strikingly clear that it did not include you. You let them all filter into your home, and pointed out the features around you. It wasn’t huge by any means, but it was a good enough space. You had a small living space with a few sofas and chairs you had collected from neighbors and a well-to-do art dealer you’d met at the bar. There was a kitchenette attached, and you had two bedrooms, though one was doing little else other than collect space. You weren’t entirely sure why you had elected to pick the home with two bedrooms, some gnawing hope in your gut that maybe one day you really would have a family. 

“You all can stay as long as you want. I’ve got a spare bedroom, and there’s space to sleep here,” you gestured to the couches around you, “how long will you be on system?”

Echo chimed in, “Three rotations, but we can stay on the ship, really it’s not an issue-”

“Come on Echo, don't be such a downer!” Wrecker is the first to respond, quickly sprawling out on, and dwarfing, the couch closest to the door. “This is the softest couch I’ve ever felt.” His words are enough to spur the interest of Omega and Tech, who both settled on the couch opposite Wrecker. Hunter stayed standing, shooting an apologetic look to his brother. “If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Not at all, I’d appreciate the company.” You hustle over to the kitchen, pulling out various takeout containers and inspecting each one, placing them on the small counter. “There’s a bunch of leftovers here, don’t know what you’re hungry for but help yourself.” You grab a bottle of wine and a small food container and move closer to Echo, voice dropping to a murmur. “I think you and I ought to have a moment alone.”

He follows you immediately, without even throwing a glance over his shoulder.

The thing you loved about this house was the outdoor space. It wasn’t exactly orthodox, but if you crawled through the window you were able to sit out on the small ledge that gave your back entryway some shadow. It was small and private, due to the small courtyard your house backed up against, and you often left a small candle and a blanket out there to rest after a long day. Now it provided the perfect backdrop to sit with Echo, the chatter inside the house fading to a mumble as you both settled. He was so radiant, even now, eyes looking up at the crimson colored sky. It took everything in you not to reach for his hand right then and there, even though you desperately wanted to. The quiet is deafening, Echo will hardly look at you, and your body is screaming for him, to touch him and make sure he’s still real. This doesn’t feel real, the whole experience. You both quietly sip from your glasses, until one glass turns to two.

It was you who broke the silence first.

"I mourned you, you know." You say, biting with more venom than you intended.

"I'm sorry I hurt you-"

"I was stuck there, stuck in the spot you left me. I couldn't study, couldn't eat. Echo, I missed you."

He has nothing he can say, and you see your words hit their mark. He's hurt you, and he knows it. You sit in the silence for a beat longer and continue.

“I know why you didn’t call me.”

“So you understand?”

“She’s a remarkable little girl, Echo. I don’t know how she came to you, but, I understand. You’ve got a family now.”

“What? Cyare, no-”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize.” You did betray yourself then, placing a hand atop his, “I just want you to know that she seems like she’s worth it.”

“I didn’t call you because you deserve something better.” His voice comes out fast, bitter. He pulls his hand back so fast you gasp at the lack of warmth, even though you haven’t been cold in what feels like millenia since you got to Tatooine. “The day that Rex came to you, I should’ve died. I, I think it would’ve been better.”

Your heart nearly shatters at the admission, and you move closer to him. He doesn’t resist when you put a hand on his cheek, your breath shaking. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“I’m a mess mesh’la. I’m not even whole, I couldn’t see you, couldn’t face you. And my brothers,” his head dips towards the house, “They get me, you know? And we’ve been on the run, honestly, I just figured you’d have found someone else by now.”

You shake your head fast, your tears finally slipping as you watch something, hope perhaps, slip back into Echo’s eyes at your admission. “There’s never been anyone else, there can’t ever be.” You bring your forehead to his, and he closes the gap to press his against yours. “You’re always you, Echo.” You pull backwards, resting on your folded legs. “You’ve got a hand to hold, a face to kiss, your heart to love,” you put a hand on his chest at the admission, and you don’t miss his eyes going glassy, the way he gnaws on his lower lip. “Did you think I wouldn’t love you anymore? That I’m that superficial?”

“It’s not that, you need someone better, someone who can make you happy. What about that guy at the bar, Timmy, Tibo…”

“I don’t want Timo,” you don’t care how pouty you sound now, your face scrunching up, “I want you.”

“You shouldn’t.” It’s an admission that betrays his heart, and his voice cracks as he says it. All you can do is stand and reach for him. He accepts your hand in silence as you hoist him up, long having forgotten about the wine, as you lead him back into your room.

“Sit.” You push his shoulders so he’s seated on your bed, and you walk out of the room. The suns have dipped below the horizon during your conversation, and you want to make sure everyone is settled for the night. Wrecker is fast asleep on the couch, mouth open as he snores with Omega curled into his side. Tech and Hunter are hunched over your kitchen table, though Hunter stands quickly before you get in the room. “I’m locking up for the night, you’re all ok to rest.” You turn to walk away before a voice cuts you off.

“He talked about you. A lot.”

You whip your head around to face Hunter, who is slowly trying to scoop a sleeping Omega into his arms and carry her to the small spare bedroom. He and Tech will figure out who gets the floor or the spare couch. The unspoken implication does not miss you. 

“He used to say he had this girl on Coruscant, that she was so smart but so crazy. That you and his brother would steal drinks from Cody’s boys on nights out.”

You laugh at the memory as the two of you walk down the short hall, but there’s a pang of finality in your gut. Echo would never have left Fives alone.

“He said you were a student,”

“Was.” You smile, and unlock the spare door as Hunter sets Omega down. “Hard to grieve and focus, you know?”

He gives you a knowing smile and a grateful pat on the shoulder before turning back towards the living room, leaving you to go into your bedroom alone.

Echo is sitting on your bed where you’ve left him, but there’s a few things moved from where you’ve left them. An old necklace he got for you on a mission has been pulled from your jewelry box, the perfume you used to wear is on your nightstand. He’s currently pouring over your datapad, and when you sit next to him you see he’s looking at the photogallery.

“Do you remember this?” You ask, pointing to the one he’s currently looking at. You’re both clearly drunk and walking around one of the fairs Coruscant would host in the square. Echo has one arm wrapped in your hair and another dropping low down the skirt of your dress, and you’re both beaming like lovesick children.

“I think about it nearly every day.” He swipes to the next one, he’s at a gala for your university, his ARC trooper armor looking freshly scrubbed while you accept an award. The next, you’re both laying in civvies, watching a flick on the holonet together.

“I am not going to beg for a spot in your life. You have to know you deserve me.” You move the datapad off of his lap and stand up, wedging your body between his knees. “But I am yours, body and soul. I’ve lost you once, but I can’t do it again.” You press a kiss to his forehead, thumbs sweetly caressing the side of his face before you turn to the small chest of drawers in your room. You rifle through them quickly before finding your prize, and hand him the bundles of fabric.

“Are these my blacks?”

“Now they’re my pajamas,” you smile, pulling your dress off over your head and pretending to ignore the way his eyes rake over your body before pulling on a thin shirt, “figured I could share. Let’s go to bed.”

*

You wake up to the movement in your bed when Echo rises, and you let yourself bask in the bliss of the reality you’ve created. Watching through curtained lashes, you watch as he stretches his arms up high overhead, muscles straining taught against his back. You want to reach out and pull him back to bed, want to press yourself against his body, but you don’t. He moves quietly as he clicks his armor together, a task you used to do easily and with the training of a well practiced soldier. You slept together last night, but you didn’t sleep together. You still aren’t sure where you stand, and your chrono is ticking internally. He’s only here for two more days.

“Good morning,” he murmurs when he catches you starring, and you smile back at him, a real and raw one.

“Mornin’” sleep is still dripping from your voice while you stand and make your way to the kitchen as Echo follows. The rest of the squad is idling in the kitchen, having figured out your caf pot. You offer them a small wave and don’t miss the way Tech’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead at the two of you.

“We’ve got a busy day today, Cid has evidently presented us with a number of small jobs here and in Mos Espa. I’ve charted a day that puts us at the most efficient, while also avoiding the most direct sunlight.”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter claps his brother on the shoulder before moving over to you. “Do you think you could keep an eye on Omega? I hate to bring her on missions if I don’t have to.”

The pit in your stomach grows, “Is it dangerous?”

“Nah,” it’s Echo’s turn now, and you notice the smile at your worry. “Hunter’s right though, just better to be safe than sorry.”

You shrug, “sure! Just got some errands to run. I’ll let her sleep in as much as I can.”

Hunter gives you a grateful shoulder squeeze and you send the squad your wishes. You reach for Echo’s hand as your fingers dance around one another. “Come back please.”

“Of course.” 

Omega doesn’t rise for a while, which gives you time to warm up some bread and jams and run to the market near your house for a jug of blue milk. You suspect the girl hasn’t had a real home cooked meal in her life, and you’re eager to provide the experience for her. Something pulls hard in your gut, the domesticity of the actions, caring for this little girl and waking up with Echo, that makes you want to cry. This is, essentially, everything you’ve dreamt of for so long, but maker at what cost. You know Echo is hurting, it’s written clear across his face whenever he looks at you, and you can’t imagine the extent of what he’s suffered. You want this, you want him and you want this little life, but the cost it required makes you feel sick.

Omega wakes up not long after breakfast is done, and she rubs her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

“They left for the mission, but you’re in very good hands, I promise.” You smile, leading her to the table. She beams up at you and at the food you settle onto her plate. “Have you ever had these before?”

“No, Kaminoan food is kinda weird, and we normally just eat snacks and ration bars on the ship.” She cuts into the bread cautiously, and takes her first bite. The grin that overtakes her face is contagious, and she whips her head to you. “This is amazing!”

You come up and ruffle her hair, “I’ll make it for you whenever you like.”

“Thank you.” Her words are so kind, so genuine, that it sends a pang to your chest.

“How long have you been with the batch?”

“I dunno, it’s hard to say. I don’t like counting, I feel like it’ll jinx it.” She shrugs, “but definitely a while. They rescued me. We’re a family now.”

“You certainly are.”

She continues to pick at the food while you go into your quarters to get ready, pulling on clothes and tying your hair back. Mos Eisley isn’t exactly the ideal place for children, but you suspect she’s seen worse. Besides, you’ve got credits burning a hole in your pocket and an insatiable desire to mother this child. You come back out to her cleaning her dish and smile, “How do you feel about a day on the town?”

“Really! We don’t have to just stay here?”

“Something tells me you can handle yourself.”

She beams at being recognized, “You bet! Let me get my bow.”

The market is full of life as usual, and Omega is happily bouncing between stalls, picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down. You’re happy to oblige her, and you've got a bag full of dolls, snacks, a shawl, and some drawing supplies. She’s walking a few paces ahead of you, blonde hair bobbing in the sun, and she frequently turns around to make sure you’re close by. It’s rather endearing.

“You know, I used to know another blonde Kaminoan.”

“Is it Captain Rex?” 

You’re surprised she knows the name, and you blink a few times. “Have you met him?”

“Yeah, he came by the cantina on Ord Mantell,” she slows her pace to walk next to you, “he’s old.”

“Yeah he is,” you laugh, thinking fondly of the captain who looked out for you. “He’s an old friend too.”

“Did you know him on Coruscant?”

“I did. He was Echo’s captain in his old squad.”

“Oh yeah, I think he mentioned that. Did you meet him when you and Echo got in love?”

There’s a scuff as you stumble over your feet and you look down at her. “What do you mean by that?”

She shrugs, “I thought you guys were in love. At least, that’s what Echo says. You’re the girl from Coruscant, I saw the holopicture of you two in the hallway.”

Shoot. “I mean, we definitely were-”

“Because I heard Echo tell Hunter he loved you back on the ship not that long ago. They thought I was sleeping, but I wasn’t, and I heard him say he felt sad ‘cause he still loved you. At least, I think it was you. He said she was a student at a fancy school, and she was so smart, so it seems like you. Which is good because now we’re all together again, so Echo won’t be sad, because you love him too, and you’re together!”

“Omega…”

“Besides, I like you, and Echo is nice and gives really good hugs. And I think you’d be perfect together.”

“I wish it was that simple kid,” you lean down to ruffle her hair. “Let’s pick out something good for dinner.”

*

Cooking with Omega is fun, there’s something precious in the way she washes the leafy greens and vegetables while you chop beside her. The holo is on in the background, creating a warm hum of noise that keeps you both company. She’s chatty, eager to tell you about their adventures. You’re pleased to hear that Rex is alive and well, and that they’ve been helping rescue other clones. She talks about their ship, her room they’ve made for her. It’s so endearing, the way she talks about her family. You feel so drawn to it, to her. You want so badly to share in this with Echo. To have him here by your side. There’s a sigh that escapes your chest, of both relief and pain, and for the first since you’ve gotten him back you let yourself completely melt into the ache in your heart of missing him, of having him back. You don’t notice you’re crying until Omega comes up to your side.

“You must’ve really missed him.”

“Yeah Meg, I really did.”

“What was he like when you first met him?”

“He was so confident, but so strict with the rules.”

She scoffs endearingly, “Don’t worry, he’s still like that.”

“He was so clean cut, but so handsome. Always so worried, wanted to be so polite,” you lean down to whisper to her, “One time, when he first started staying at my apartment-”

“At least give me a chance to defend myself, come on!” Echo shouts as he enters the apartment, the rest of the batch in tow. He removes his helmet and he’s smiling, the lasting effects of a blush on his cheeks. The rest of the men follow noisly in, and are quick to remove boots and blasters at the door and start bustling around the kitchen to help finish dinner. You sidle up next to Echo as he finishes putting the meat in the small leafy cups, and the tips of your fingers ghost around his waist for just a moment. He freezes, then melts into your touch almost immediately, letting your hands hang around his midriff.

“Hi,” he murmurs, low enough that even Hunter doesn’t hear, filling Omega in on their mission.

“Was worried about you, Tatooine’s no good.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

You look up at him with a smirk and remove your hands as you help him distribute plates to the batch. “You got any better suggestions?”

It’s so quiet you nearly miss it, and you suppose he had hoped you would, but still, it carries over to where you stand near Wrecker. “I have a few suggestions.”

It’s not until later that night that you get Echo alone again, when you slip out of the fresher and notice him perched up on your bed in his blacks. He stiffens when you enter the room, conveniently dressed in nothing more than his blacks tops, hanging loosely off your body.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want me back in here.”

You shake your head and slip into bed beside him. “You assumed correctly.”

He grins at you before setting your datapad now. You’re still so attuned to him, you notice the rigid movements in his hips and torso as he twists to set it down, and your hands are on him almost instinctively. 

“Where does it hurt?”

“It’s nothing, just chronic stuff, nothing you need to worry about.”

“Even though you tried to fire me,” you murmur as you coax him to his back and encourage him to flip on his stomach, “I’d argue it is my job to worry about.” You pull yourself up and straddle his back, perching yourself right above his hips. Your hands are quickly underneath his shirt, rubbing soothing circles along his back and shoulders, wrapping down his biceps. You pause for a moment at the spot where the prosthesis begins, and he offers a muffled sound of encouragement when you begin to rub small, gentle circles along the meeting point. Cautiously, you work your hand further south, and the sound of bliss that leaves his mouth when you find the spot where flesh meets metal in the middle of his thighs is all the encouragement you need to keep going.

“You know, the heat here helps the pain.” He tosses over his shoulder, turning his head and propping himself up on his arms to look at you. 

“Maybe you should just stay then, you know. For health reasons.”

“Oh? Would you like that?”

You say nothing, but you can see him pick up the smile, the twinkle in your eye. Instead you roll off of his back and lay down beside him, turning your head to face him. “Omega told me something funny today.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t even imagine.”

“She told me you’ve been telling stories about a girl you left on Coruscant.”

“Really? Didn’t know she’s been hearing all that. What else did she say about this girl?” Even in the low light of your darkened room you can see him starting to blush. 

“She said she was a student at a fancy school, and that you thought she was smarter than you.”

“I remember saying so smart, but, sure, she’s smarter than me.” His fingertips float along your thigh, up your body. He’s so cautious, but getting bolder by the second.

“She told me you still loved her.”

His hand freezes at its spot on your waist, moving from a light touch to a grip, as if he’s afraid this is it. This is the moment you’re gone forever.

“I think she was probably hurt at first, because she missed you and she mourned you. But she could never stay mad at you. She thinks your family is cute.” Your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, pulling him in close to you. “I think she still loves you too.”

There’s a beat where you hear him exhale, it’s shaky and soft, and his words flow quickly afterwards. “Mesh’la, I thought of you everyday. I couldn’t face you, not after what I’d been turned into, after I let you down.”

“Don’t.” Your forehead is against his now, breathing him in close, “Don’t start with that.”

And then you kiss him and it feels like coming home. Like a warm glass of bantha milk and a cookie set aside just for you, or a warm towel after a cold shower. It feels like being wrapped in a blanket of adoration, like this is all you’re meant to be doing forever. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could actually die here as his tongue grazes your bottom lip, and you absolutely blossom into the touch. You feel like the lovesick first year you were when you met Echo in the first place, when the only thing that mattered was passing exams and spending all of Echo’s shore leave tangled in your sheets. 

He pulls back too soon for your liking, though you know in reality you’ve been wrapped up in each other for maker knows how long. There’s a pitiful little whimper that breaks past your lips when he does, and it makes you blush.

“Don’t disappear like that again.” You whisper, and he pulls you into this chest and presses a long kiss to your hairline.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

*

The next morning is, of course, full of goodbyes, and the walk to their docking bay has you fighting tears. You and Echo stayed up all night wrapped up in one another, whispering confessions and plans for the future like you were both nothing more than two lovesick shinies again. You had both decided that you would stay on Tatooine, stay in your life. In turn, the batch planned on paying off their debt to Cid and set up base on Tatooine. Tech had agreed that, logistically, Tatooine made the most sense for those evading the empire, and Wrecker was happy to have the option of sleeping in an actual home. You had given Omega and the batch rations and well wishes, and you stood outside the ramp of the Marauder, hands clasped behind your back as you looked up at Echo.

“Come back soon?”

He moved to catch your lips in a kiss, and you reveled in the slight taste of caf on his mouth from the morning, “Wouldn’t dream of staying away.” He broke away a moment later and moved to stand on the ramp. You waved goodbye as it began to life and he grinned. “And stop calling me your ex!”

The red speeder you were tailing grew closer and closer with every passing moment. The lights and sounds of the crowded lower levels of Coruscant blurred past in a stream of neon, and you were gaining on this banthashit in front of you. Nothing was stopping you, and you hardly even noticed the subtle light of the holocomm on your dash begin blinking on and off. You sighed, tapping it absentmindedly—as if you weren’t in the middle of a street race you were desperately trying to win.

“Care to explain why Rex just told me that the Corries spotted a few speeders racing on the lower levels?” Kix’s voice rang out clear through your speeder, and you worked to fight the cringe in your voice.

Kriff. “No, so random, anyway, it’s been real—”

“One of them mentioned a particularly shiny, very blue speeder too.”

You smiled, sparing a passing glance at the miniature holo of your best friend. “They said I looked shiny?”

“Not important,” he sighed, and you looked just fast enough to catch him drag his hand across his face, “you know how dangerous racing is.”

“You knew how much I loved it when you met me.” You countered, and you watched him debate it in his mind for just a moment.

“My first day on leave and I’ve gotta spend it worrying about you.” He joked, but there was no venom in his voice.

“Feels like payback from all the worrying I’ve gotta do for you while you’re off system.”

“Hmm… At least win for me?”

“I’ll buy you a victory drink at 79’s if I do.”

The call ended as quickly as it began, and you became even focused on the red speeder in front of you. Sure, Kix was probably your best friend, but there was something about the clone medic that had your cheeks aching from smiling, and your face sweating from how red it got when you thought about him. You two were so opposite, and yet you couldn’t get enough of each other.

You and Kix had met over a year ago when you had needed a cheap drink after you won a race, and a few of your racing buddies and stumbled into 79’s for their famously cheap (albeit famously shitty) drinks. What you hadn’t intended to find, however, was a group of loud, excited clones that you instantly clicked with. You had fallen in fast with all the boys in the 501st, and when you had cut your hand open on a glass you had dropped by the end of the night, you were smitten with the medic of the team.

That’s not to say you and Kix were anything aside from friends. He had been very respectful, and very careful not to cross that line, much to your dismay. He was sweet and doting, and he hated that you raced. To be honest, he would barely even watch podracing with you and his brothers, not after he heard how dangerous it actually was from his general (who you may or may not have fangirled over when you first met him.) Still, he would always wish you luck, and he was the first to announce your wins to whoever was in the bar that day. On the last win, he had proudly clutched your shoulders and led you into the door, shouting, “My girl’s a winner!” and leading you further into the delusion that maybe he thought about you half as much as you thought about him. No, Kix was the best friend you had, he watched holofilms with you and crashed on your couch, but one of these days you knew your heart would get the better of you and you’d say something stupid.

You were simply biding your time until then.

Thinking about Kix had slipped a subtle fire under your seat, and within a moment you had carefully slipped past the red speeder, and navigated yourself right in front of the angry Devaronian man who drove it. You cringed a little internally, and watched from your mirrors as he shot daggers into the back of your head, murmuring something to someone in the comm on his chest. Shit. Always making enemies of the wrong people.

At the preplanned drag, you pulled up on the controls, bring your speeder up higher and higher into the mud and upper levels of Coruscant. The last bit of the race always took place here; stakes were higher and the views were flashier. You swerved quickly around traffic at speeds you were honestly impressed to have been reaching. Maybe one of these days you actually would enlist like you’d been telling Kix you would. You had shaken the Devaronian, and he dropped suspiciously behind you, and your ego took over as you made a turn you had anticipated long before.

You turned back over your shoulder, shooting the man a wicked grin and shouted, “you won’t catch me!” The man didn’t answer, but you swore you could see him grin, and you settled back in your seat, proudly clutching the steering and fidgeting with your buttons. You couldn’t wait to tell Kix.

When you turned back around, the two black speeders that crept up on either side of you were so quick, they hardly gave you reaction time. Trying quickly to dodge the cutting motions of the speeder on the right, you banked a hard left, scraping the side of the speeder there. The man, a Trandoshan with a wicked smile, grinned at you. “Girlie forgets that some people have money invested into these races.”

With another hard motion, the speeder on your right had come in again, forcing you harder into the left speeder, and (most aggravatingly) scuffing your pretty blue paint job. You worked to get out of the pin, shaking your controls and trying to move this way or that, but a fatal twitch had the right speeder crushing into your engine, and you watched as the lights on the dash lit up all at once like a Life Day tree. The Trandoshan looked at you again, eyes narrowing in excitement. “It’s a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

With a quick and decisive movement, the Trandoshan pulled up as your engine died, and you sputtered into a free fall through the streets of Coruscant. The last thing you saw as you dropped through traffic, narrowly missing other speeders that would’ve surely blown you to bits, was the ever encroaching solid black of the building and landing alley you were approaching. The last thing you thought of, however, was Kix.

* * *

There was a ringing in your ear when you woke, followed by a hazy smokiness lifting over your eyes. Was that damp spot on your head always there? Why was it so sticky? Why did your speeder look like that? Was it always in two pieces? You felt so, so heavy, your arms ached as you moved to tap your com in your pocket, praying to something that Kix would answer.

“I’m here, is the race over—”

“Kix…” was that whining voice coming from you? It was hard to say. “Kix, I’m hurt, I’m hurt bad… need you, need you bad…”

“Cyare, cyare please, where are you?” The panic in his voice was eminent through the com, and you murmured vague descriptions of the level you were stuck on. “I’m coming. I’m coming cyare. Just hold on.”

The next time you awoke, you were wrapped up in blankets, tucked carefully into your bed in your apartment. You were so warm and comfortable, in fact, that up until you moved, you had forgotten the crash at all. As if on cue, a noise sounded from opposite your bed towards the kitchenette, and you shifted your head to identify the source.

“Careful Princess, that’s a nasty concussion you’ve got there.”

When you looked up at him, he was moving carefully over to your bedside, an easy task in your studio apartment, and resting his weight barely to your side. His hand crept up to cradle your head gently, and instinctually, you reached up to hold it. His gaze on you softened at the touch, and he closed his eyes and exhaled a breath from somewhere deep within his chest.

“You’re growing your hair,” you mumbled, your other hand reaching slowly to fidget with the longer hair growing where a carefully shaved lightning bolt used to be.

“Getting older, felt like too much of a shiny,” he said, bringing his hand off your head to rest on your cheek. “You scared me out there,”

“Psh, you’re a hardened battle medic. I’m sure I’m nothing-“

“There is nothing in this galaxy that could prepare me for losing you cyar’ika.” He murmured, the mando’a slipping easily and softly past his lips. He sat up quickly, pulling out his datapad and a few tools from the medkit he must’ve brought with. “You lost a fair bit of blood, but nothing too bad. You’ve only been out a few hours and I was able to remove your lines a little bit ago. A broken leg, rib, and a concussion are your only other serious injuries.”

“Oh, that’s it?” You laughed, and he sighed as he set his equipment down, returning to the kitchen to grab whatever it was—food as it appeared—he was working on and rest next to you in your bed. He was stiff, anxious you noted from the way he fiddled with his fingers. You didn’t think he’d say anything in response until he opened his mouth.

“Your speeder is totaled.”

“That’s not very good beside manner.” You groaned, closing your eyes in frustration. It had taken you months to save up for even just the paint job, let alone the rest of it. She was your baby.

“I’ll have you know I’m renowned for my bedside manner.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” You winked, and inwardly cringed at the motion. Kriff, what were you thinking? Blame it on the blood loss. “Thank you, for coming for me.”

“There isn’t a battle in this galaxy that could keep me from coming to you when you need me,” he sighed, and released his arm from its slack position and tentatively draped it around you, and you happily leaned into his chest, breathing in all the smells that made Kix your Kix. He always smelled clean, like freshly scrubbed laundry and warm blankets. He smelled like coming home and all the coziness of your apartment on a rainy day. Most of all, he smelled like a slight mix of disinfectant, the crucial detail that made him smell like him. You swore you could drink it in.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, so cautious with the way his body was laid against yours, and you moved to shake your head until the shooting pains came back and you responded verbally instead.

“No. This is perfect.” He melted deeper into you at that, and his fingers rubbed gently circles on the exposed skin of your arm. “You know, I like your hair.”

“Oh yeah? Was worried you wouldn’t. Saw the lightning bolts on your speeder”

You groaned internally out of pure embarrassment. “Nah, I like everything on you. Miss your tattoo though.”

“She’s still there, just hidden.” He smirked before moving slightly so the two of you were close to sitting up instead of slouching across each other. “I need to tell you something.”

“My speeder isn’t actually broken you just want me to stop racing?”

“No, but, that would be ideal.” He smiled at you and reached to touch your cheek with the tips of his fingers, and your body shifted closer to him on instinct. You and Kix had been close before, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder more times than you could count, but this felt…different somehow. More intimate. You hadn’t realized how broad he was up close, even more so with his armor scattered around your apartment. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but the realization of just how panicked he must’ve been when he brought you here made your heart flutter.

He continued softly, fingers still gently on your skin, “I’m going away for awhile, I think. But today made me realize how close I was to losing you. And I guess, technically, how close you could be to losing me.” He stumbled over the last words, and you smiled at him to keep going. “I… I care about you mesh’la. I would do anything for you, be anyone for you. I can’t go another day without letting you know, because I can’t go another day not knowing if I’m the only one who feels this.”

He was closer now, only inches from your face, and your breath had hitched somewhere in your throat. “You’re not. Not the only one I mean. I feel it too.”

His skin warmed under your soft touch, as you had moved to place your hand on top of his. His eyes darted down closer to your lips and you smiled, nodding slightly to give him the encouragement he needed. Cautiously, carefully, he moved to close the gap. Ever the gentleman, taking his time to give you the ability to back out—as if you would.

Oh. That’s what spice probably felt like, you were sure of it. The feeling of Kix’s warm breath eclipsing your own as he pressed a kiss so soft and gentle to your lips you felt like you were breathing into it. This was it. This was heaven. This was all you ever needed, you’d never race again if it meant you could sit here and kiss this man to death. He backed up far too soon, cautiously, as if he was afraid you’d regretted it. Instead, you had simply leaned closer to him. “Do it again. Please.”

And oh, oh did he take your word for it, pressing his mouth to yours in the gentlest, most passionate kiss you had ever experienced. He was so careful with you, careful to rest his hand on your torso on the side opposite the break, careful to gently cradle your head. Careful to not bruise you even further with the way he kissed you, and it was an effort in restraint not to jump his bones the way you wanted to. You stayed like this for whoever knows how long. Could’ve been hours, could’ve been a whole rotation, could’ve been thirty seconds. When the two of you broke away, he was breathless, and you leaned closer into him as he slowly reclined the two of you back in your bed.

“If we did that every day, I’d never have to race again.”

He chuckled, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning slightly against your uninjured side. “I take it this is a bad time to tell you Thorn caught the guy, and they’re gonna pay to fix your speeder?”