#fives reader insert

Yea, no, Echo made a few good points he did catch, he thinks as he steps out of the cab and onto the platform, Y'know... Mass consumption of a marketed holiday, all that shit.

It still didn't stop vod'ika from making his own costume.

Echo, as he stumbles out of the cab — last to exit — sports a bit of a cop-out. He's in Five's armor, sporting a drawn on 5 and a poorly shaded goatee. Commander Tano had insisted it was a great look (having helped apply the look before insisting she had her own Hallowe'en business to attend to at the Temple), but Fives has to admit it brings a bit of a blow to his ego. Even being his genetic match, his best friend looks more like Echo now: awkward, quiet, and already regretting being here.

The line isn't bad, but Fives admits he's freezing his ass off by the time they do get in — and whatever sort of marketing campaign 79's pulled for the lucky bastards on leave at the time of Hallowe'en worked. The place is packed; tonight there are more civvies than usual, too. Fives makes note as Jesse roughs up his shoulders and swats at his wings.

"Gotta find a lil' devil fer you, vod," he calls over the base.

Fives snorts and reaches up to adjust his poorly made halo.

Jesse's half-ass attempt at smuggler-turned-pirate-turned-half-trooper was something, better than some of the other troopers in here who had decided 'decorated war hero' was enough of a costume. Kix, by his side, is in a clean set of scrubs and a white coat he's stolen from one of the civilian doctors.

"A little cold?" the medic calls, grinning wolfishly.

"Fuck off," Fives chirps back, shoving them both roughly to move on — because truth be told, yes, this white compression tank and shorts weren't doing much to keep him warm. A drink will warm him up. And judging by how crowded the upper mezz was, he'll be sweating his ass off in no time.

As he weaves through the crowd with the gaggle of Torrent Company members, Fives ignores the burn of his muscles. The last mission is still clinging to him — but, tonight he can let loose. He's got a whole week of leave to look forward to. And with his luck, maybe he won't have to go back to the barrack's tonight.

Maybe.

Maybe.

At that very moment, in all honesty, he wasn't expecting to see you there at the bar.

The Republic's Auxiliary Corp was comprised entirely of natural-born civilians — folks who usually took on the more supportive roles of engineering, nursing, and communications to name a few. You happened to be The Resolute's lead communication officer; the one, who in lieu of Admiral Yularen, often gave debriefs and mission reports on his behalf.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Aux Corp to party at 79's, but... You? Last you'd said, you'd sworn off 79's. Too many coworkers and, apparently, enough grab-ass to last a life time.

Despite being an ARC Trooper with the Grand Army of the Republic, despite outranking most by a mile, Fives has to admit his intimidation is real when he sees the other communication officers by your side — and while rank means fuck all at 79's, he can still feel the tension is his back wind tight.

Then your eyes meet his.

Sonofabitch, you're wearing wings like him.

You and Fives were... an interesting pair.

It was no small secret there was something going on here — but Echo never really knew how to exactly broach the topic with his vod. Fives was unusually quiet about this particular genre of flirting he did with you, be it between debriefs or in the line at the mess. Either way, it didn't stop the ARC Trooper from seeking out other means of distraction. Nor you, if truth be told.

And now, Echo is seeing this all come to a head.

"Well, well, well," comes your voice, high and tight above the bass; your face is covered with glitter, intricate make-up highlighting your features as the lights from the screens overhead replay the latest final match of bolo-ball, "If it isn't the boys in blue."

Your entourage is comprised of familiar faces — communication specialists and intel officers — but it's you that Torrent Company gravitates towards. Fives leads the charge. He's content to saddle up beside you, squeezing in-between the small space you make at the bar. The others make small talk, and find spots to flag down the bartender.

For now, it's just the two of you, locked in conversation and proximity in a sea of troopers, civilians, dancers and waitstaff.

You watch Fives turn his face up to the holiday themed menu — and then you reach for one of his wings.

"Nice costume."

The ARC Trooper snorts, attention now fully on you. You raise your drink, some odd looking creme thing in a wavy glass with a gummy dianoga hanging off the edge. His brown eyes twinkle with a little bit of mischief. You catch it easily.

"If you wanted to coordinate, you only had to ask—"

You laugh at that, offering up a sip of your drink.

Fives takes it, and with warm, calloused hands tips it back. He seems content enough with it, granted it's fruity and colorful and less likely to knock him on his ass. When he hands it back, he has to lean in a little closer as the music hikes up a notch.

"You look beautiful."

His cheek brushes yours and you smirk as you fiddle with your straw. When he leans back, half-occupied with giving his order to the bartender and half-distracted by you, you figure this was a long time coming — this back and forth you've been doing with him has been months in the making.

And, maybe you'd just hoped you'd catch him here.

His hand falls to your knee as he leans forward over the bar, answering something Kix called out to him about with a tight nod.

It's warm and rough against your bare skin.

(He did that on purpose.)

The matching costumes was all luck.

In a blink, he's back and leaned close into your space with his elbows on the bartop. His hip brushes your knee as you cross your legs and lean with one elbow on the counter. The shared proximity lends itself to a bit of privacy all while the club around you seems to tip into extended chaos.

Fives is... well. He's interested. He's been interested. More interested than he usually is — and that sort of admission is the stuff he tends to shy away from. He's got a big heart. The last thing he wants is to go and break it. Hence, the volley after volley. Slow and steady. A steep climb towards something more real, maybe.

And here he is, nearly nose to nose with you at the bar, dressed like a god damn angel. You're dressed like one, too. But... Yours is better. Prettier.

Very pretty.

"I thought you said you didn't do 79's?" Fives asks, breath hot against your cheek.

You smile timidly, flashing your eyes to your compatriots over his shoulder. Your lashes flutter as you call over the bass. "Consider this a forced outing."

Fives grins; his eyes crinkle at the corners and you watch with bated affection — his arrival had come at your third drink of the evening. Everyone knew 79's tended to over pour, but... Lights alive, you were going to be feeling this tomorrow. You're already regretting your shoe choice.

Fives is slid his drink by the bartender — a tall glass of some amber liquid you assume is that Coruscanti lager your roommate had been raving about. His halo hangs lopsided on his head as he cocks a smirk.

"C'mon," he chirps, tipping back his beer and taking a long swig, "It's not that bad."

Truth be told it wasn't — but there was really only one trooper you had your sights on. You're lucky enough to his his center of attention now.

You brace your chin in your hand and reach to adjust the crudely made headband. Fives grins.

"No, it's not that bad, and I like Hallowe'en," you supplement; your fingers brush his cheek before you reach back for your drink. Garbage Compactor, the menu called it. You pop the gummy into your mouth and nudge him with your knee, "But it is better now that you're here."

The words make his heart leap — and he doesn't bother to hide the sheepish reaction that brings him to hang his head and ward off a bright smile. It's his turn, once he's composed himself, to prop his head up in his hand. He's mirroring you. His eyes roam your face closely.

For a moment, you're the only two people in the bar.

Then, his free hand finds your knee again.

It's a thoughtful touch — he's admiring the warm, smooth curve of your skin. His hands are calloused and warn from war; and you find yourself squirming in your perch at the bar.

The tension is wound tight like a coil.

"Didn't have a date to match with?" he asks, half jest, half seeking confirmation that this is okay. That he can touch you like this, that he can buy you a drink, that he can inevitably steal you away to the murky privacy of a crowded dance floor — because now, he's seeing this. He's seeing you. He knows that he can have this... if you'll let him.

"No," you adjust your wings as you wet your lips, "I, uh... no."

You shrug, then, with a tipsy look that makes Fives beam. It's cute. You're cute. This sheepish, sweet, happy look you've got about you is different from the one you usually wear on the bridge. You're capable, intelligent, witty... and now he's seeing a myriad of other facets that he finds just as enamoring.

Fives is distracted. His eyes hold your own.

"I look like an idiot," he says suddenly with his trademark humor that's enough to break your moony-eyed stare, "And here I am, trying to put the moves on you—"

"They're working," you laugh, waving off his evident sheepishness, "And it's not a bad costume, really. Captain Rex would applaud your ingenuity."

"He wanted to kick my ass," he says, leaning in to laugh over the music; his nose is against your cheek again as he waves with his beer, "Was about to cite me for gross misuse of GAR medical supplies—"

You're laughing, hand on his chest.

"How much gauze did you use?" you call out, poking at the wings.

"Too much!" he says, swatting at your own wings, "Shoulda just called you up—"

The suggestion is enough to lock you both in that same sticky tempo as before — but this time it's you who settles into it neatly with a smile. You offer a playful shrug.

"You could of."

Fives' smile is slow. He asks in a playful way, chin jutting. "What?"

"Called me," you explain as you loll your head to the side, "You can, y'know. I'd like that."

He's — god damn it, you're good at this. You're good at disarming him. Usually he's better at navigating this sort of thing, but... with you it's different. With you, there's a weighted pressure of succeeding.

He takes it. He runs with it.

"Yea?" he asks, hand on the bar and other fiddling with the wing of your costume, "You'd like that? Or me?"

The suggestion isn't lost on you. Your smile is bright.

You stretch, leaning up to speak closely. "Are we really gonna keep playing this game?"

Fives hand moves to your hip — the proximity is making his head swim. He turns his head and his nose brushes your cheek, just below your eye. You toss him a look. Half challenging, half sugar-sweet. Every bit some beautiful visage of an angel.

"Can I kiss you?" he calls out suddenly, brown eyes flicking to your lips.

You blink, unsure if you heard him. "What?"

"Can I — blast it," he leans in, nose to nose, and speaks again, "I'm asking if I can kiss you."

Immediate understanding blossoms on your face and your reply isn't verbal — it's a coordinate kiss that catches him by surprise. Fives makes a small sound against your mouth before settling, melting, and anchoring his hands to your frame.

His hands are big and warm and the hold he keeps on your waist is near crushing, as if you'd fly away at any moment, and you ease into the control he seeks at the kiss — all while the world continues to thrum alive around you.

After all, 79's was a haven for things like this: lucky troopers and lopsided lip-locks, all while their brothers cheered from behind their own drinks. Only tonight, wings provide a partition from the Hallowe'en festivities.

Easing into your newfound role was helped by the fact you already knew how Rex and his General treated their boys, so becoming accustomed to the antics of the 501st did not take long at all. The war had all but torn whatever tranquillity the Jedi Order had once represented away from you by now, but it still felt pleasant to be immersed within a new form of close-knit brotherhood all the same.

Anakin had even quipped several times that you made an excellent babysitter for Ahsoka when he wasn’t around, suggesting that perhaps he should even think about transferring her tutelage to you after the war was done with. These snide but ultimately harmless comments always concluded by putting the sharp-tongued Padawan into a foul mood, or having her turn to you to stand in as the voice of reason when only your little trio was present for their spats- you found yourself feeling Obi Wan’s absence much more deeply in these moments.

But joining Skywalker’s battalion was so different to how it had been for you before. Warm and reliable, even a little unconventional compared to other Jedi-led battalions - but above all else, it felt so wonderful to fight alongside two generals that you knew valued the lives of their comrades as deeply as you did.

It was just as heartening a bonus to know that your troops returned that same sentiment to you.

Despite the newfound joys your found-family has granted you however, there remains a constant distraction pecking incessantly at the strings of your heart. As guarded as you have been trained to force it to be, it can’t help but flutter with the knowledge that, hiding amongst the ranks of brothers, lay Fives and his charming smirk.

---------

You’re in the middle having lunch with Ahsoka when you finally get to see his face again.

The Coruscant base mess hall is practically buzzing with activity, the sight of which had initially been a little overwhelming the first time the young Padawan had dragged you by the wrist for a lunch date away from her master - but by now you had become accustomed to sharing the close quarters with so many other bodies. It had been around a month since the Battle of the Rishi Moon and though the events that had transpired formally were still raw in your mind, the rest of the army appeared to, at least at a surface level, have settled back into steadfast adaptation - business as usual you supposed, though it didn’t make the thought taste any less bitter each time the memory played over your thoughts.

Your quickly blossoming friendship with Ahsoka had helped the transition back to normality considerably. She was always so excitable and eager to learn from you, yet the teen also carried a sweetness and indisputable intelligence that had made it all the more easy for you to become attached to her. In certain ways she reminded you of how you had once been - a little more naive and inexperienced and completely starstruck to be working under Master Ti for the first time. Growing up during the wartime would never be an easy experience for any teenager, but even so, you hoped it never jaded her the way you feared it had you and many of her other seniors.

It's the wave of Ahsoka’s fingertips that leads your gaze to him and you actually jump a little internally at the realisation of who exactly it is you’re looking at. Fives sits a mere few tables over from your own, seated alongside Echo - who you recognise from the hand-print staining his cuirass, as well as several other clones that you struggle to distinguish with the same ease. The young togruta in front of you senses your lapse in concentration almost instantly, quickly silencing the tale she’s spinning about Anakin’s recent misadventures with an irritated frown. She huffs as she shoots a glance over her shoulder at the distraction that you have so rudely favoured over her epic tale, the striped lekku framing her face whipping slightly with the force of the movement. You bite back a cringe at how the action catches the eye of several troopers surrounding you - noting internally that you ought to suggest Anakin to add subtlety to Ahsoka’s list of lessons.

This thought quickly dissipates as your eyes lock with Fives’. The first thing you note is that his beard has properly grown in now, it curves over his chin in what you can tell is a meticulously sculpted goatee. Normally you would consider the style ridiculously vapid - but it suits him in a way you can’t quite articulate - especially considering he has the literal same face as each of the boys sat around him. His smile is just as you remember it to be however, as he shoots it your way with sparkling recognition. For a fleeting moment Echo seems to mimic Ahsoka in the way he reacts to his brother’s own distraction, lifting his hands mid-sentence in frustrated exasperation. Though once his eyes register that there are two Jedi staring in their direction, the realisation in his squint gives way to wide-eyed panic. Echo’s palms make contact with the table so violently that it startles the man next to him enough for him to choke on his meal. Fives remains unphased by Echo’s outburst however, his attention unwavering from you even as his tightly-strung brother yells for him to stop slouching over his dinner and sit up straight in the presence of a Jedi.

A trooper sporting cobalt blue lines tattooed across his face turns to the flustered clone before you can intervene. You don’t catch whatever it is he mutters as his elbow digs into Echo’s ribs, but the comment reduces the whole table to boisterous laughter. Judging by the way Echo’s cheeks flare red, you can only assume it was made at his expense.

Even with the pandemonium erupting in front of him and the threat of being struck by a trigger-happy spoonful of potatoes, Fives’ honeyed gaze remains transfixed on you.

It's only when Ahsoka’s own incredulous expression turns to face you with a snort once more that you’re able to tear your own away.

---------

At the bequest of Anakin’s orders, Ahsoka had been banned from leaving the Coruscant military base that following evening. This of course meant that while he was out on “business” - the vague nature of which had not gone unnoticed by you or Ahsoka - he had instructed you to make sure his apprentice kept her focus on her studies and out of trouble. You hadn’t worried much, recognising that despite what protest she offered, Ahsoka was disciplined enough to be left to complete her own evening tasks - despite the few past examples that would have argued otherwise. Content with that knowledge, you had retreated to your quarters to complete the last of your own evening duties, though by the time you sent off your last report to Shaak Ti on Kamonia the evening hours had long since fallen.

You stand from the desk with a sigh, mind still buzzing with numbers and jargon. You were confident that you could still see the lines of data detailing the training progress of the 501st behind closed lids, the glare from the data pad still stinging as you paw at your eyes.

There was no point in trying to sleep just yet, not while your mind was still so alive with the knowledge of casualties and combat drills - what you needed was fresh air - that was for certain.

It was a mercifully short walk from the wing where your quarters were situated to one of the base’s exits. After navigating across the dimly lit courtyard, you slip away to the outskirts of the base, settling yourself on a stretch of banking that looked out towards the neon skyline of Galactic City.

Coruscant was a bizarre paradox of a planet - boasting a population of over a trillion and a bustling cityscape to cater to tastes across the entire galaxy… and yet its night sky always seemed so lonely as it shrouded the base each night. The stars shine coldly against an inky backdrop, distant and dying - peacefully burning out in blissful ignorance to the violence that continued to rage around them.

You almost envied them, cliché as it may be.

You remain that way for a while longer, resting upon folded legs, almost in a state of tentative meditation under the starlight. All the while your mind continues to swim with thoughts of battle and responsibility and recurring nightmares of cold, cold metal corridors that stretch endlessly sterile and looming each time you dare to close your eyes.

And then, like a lifeline, you feel it shifting through the force around you. Gilded and bubbling with a distinct energy you hadn’t felt properly since Rishi.

“Come out from the shadows, I know that you’re there.”

You don’t turn to face them as you speak, but you feel the prickle of shock that flashes through their aura. Only when the sound of a familiar breathy chuckle tickles past your ears does your gaze spin from the cityscape.

One could have mistaken Fives’ behaviour as bordering sheepish as he steps towards you, arms raised in a limp mock-surrender. He cracks a toothy grin and you find yourself smiling back despite the tenseness that has settled instinctively across your posture.

“You really should know better than to sneak up on a Jedi, what if I had mistaken you for an assassin and cut you down?” your tone is purposefully light and he laughs, daring to venture forward further, rolling out his shoulders as he does so.

“Guilty as charged,” Fives’ hands fold behind his back now as he stands to his full height, there's at least a foot between you still and you suppose it's his way of maintaining a semblance of propriety, “Guess I’ve still not quite gotten the hang of following orders yet.”

It's your turn to laugh now, the noise that leaves you is short and breathy but it appears to relax him a little more nonetheless.

“I suppose that makes you the perfect candidate to work alongside Master Skywalker then.” You stand to face him now, smoothing out your robes and nodding to the cleaning rag that is currently wedged down the side of his utility belt.

“Unless this is a new uniform protocol I wasn’t notified about, I’m going to assume you should be finishing munitions cleaning duty and not skulking around outside base - am I correct with my assumption, Fives?”

You have to bite down on another giggle as the trooper’s face flashes with panic for a second before its forced back behind a smirk, ochre eyes now gleaming with impish fortitude. You can sense him attempting to push down his hesitation as he strides to stand directly beside you now, gazing out towards the city where your own focus had rested prior. You risk a prolonged glance at his profile as he does, admiring the way dark lashes frame his eyes and cast feathered shadows across his cheekbones in the moonlight. There's an odd, but not uncomfortable silence in the moments that follow between you before he speaks again.

“There’s something on your mind to drag you out here, isn’t there?”

You note that he’s dropped the ‘sir’ honorific now and you’re not sure if it's an attempt to make you feel more comfortable, if he’s testing his limits with you or if he just doesn't give a damn.

Whatever it is in actuality doesn’t end up mattering in the slightest, because his words crack your composure all the same. Soon the words begin spilling forth without a semblance of control in sight, and you proceed to spend the next precious few hours unloading everything to him.

The futility of war, your growing disenchantment with the Jedi order and frustrations with the Republic's involvement in its affairs - hypocrisy, fear and grief - it all tumbles from where it's been forced to keep hidden for months on end - coaxed out by Fives’ patient encouragement and kind eyes. By the time your self-discipline finally catches up to snuff out the fire in your chest you feel hollow with exhaustion. Your body is all but folded in on itself as you kneel atop the banking with the city continuing to burn ever brighter in the distance behind you.

A nudge against your thigh alerts you to the way Fives’ knee is pressed warmly against your own from where he is seated beside you. The feeling is almost electric, but it is quickly strangled by the guilt that crawls over you as your senses return.

“I should not have done that,” your voice scratches from your throat and you realise that at some point during your one-sided conversation you had started silently crying, “that was not right of me - as your Jedi and… as a person you don’t know properly - it was most inappropriate and I’m so sorry.”

Those burning eyes never stray from your face, steadfast even as you duck your head to scrape a clammy hand over your cheeks. You clear your throat and move to stand, ready to march back to your quarters and await the morning, with which you will no doubt be court-martialed for inappropriate conduct and blaspheming both the Jedi and the Republic in one spectacular meltdown once word gets out.

A warm tug against your wrist halts you mid stride. The shadow of a gloved hand grips you firmly, and you follow the path of the armour that begins at its own wrist, your gaze slowly climbing over the lines of Fives’ forearm before resting on his chest - unable to meet his eyes for fear that more secrets would slip from your lips.

“But you are a person I know,” you don’t need to see his face to know that he's smiling again, it's sinking into his words like honey, “- or at least a person I would like to know, Jedi or not.”

You find the courage to meet his gaze now, blaming the utter brazenness of such a loaded statement for your change of heart. His expression is the warmest you’ve ever seen it, haloed by the skyline that now miraculously appears even further away than it had before. Another lump swells in your throat at the sight.

“This war is hell and I don’t need to be a veteran like Rex to see that much - don’t have to be an expert to know that it can’t be healthy having to keep everything you’re feelin’ locked away in the name of some order either.”

His free hand comes to settle on your shoulder. The gesture feels all too familiar to the one he gave you aboard the Resolute after Rishi and you’re stunned to silence with the fear that if you were to answer him, you would begin to cry once again. Fives’ thumb runs tenderly over your shoulder blade before he squeezes it comfortingly, his smile stretching to a thin, pursed line as he appears to retreat into his thoughts for a moment afterwards.

“Anyway, considering us clones are literally engineered to withstand emotional trauma, ‘least I can do is lend an ear to the person that helped save mine and my brother’s lives on Rishi, eh?”

He says it with such frivolous conviction that you can’t help but shake your head in disbelief, but a smile finally fights its way back on your face once more.

“You’re bizarre Fives, wonderful but bizarre.”

He grins so widely at the comment that you’re surprised it doesn't reach up towards the tattoo on his forehead. He lets go of your wrist to shoot you a haphazard salute and your own hand curls around it to replace the lost contact, as if trying to preserve the warmth his palms provided.

Stop it. Your mind all but screams at you in warning. You know that attachment is forbidden.

But for the first time in forever you decide to push the voice back, filing it away amidst the rest of the baggage that has yet to crawl its way out. It sparks a contrasting mixture of solace and apprehension in your gut that you’re not sure you’re ready to confront, but choose to embrace anyway.

It ends up being the first of many nights you spend cloaked under the Coruscant night together in the weeks that follow, serving as a secret respite in which you don’t need to be a Jedi knight and he doesn’t have to play the part of a soldier.

You are just yourselves: two companions framed by the glow of Galactic City, and that knowledge is as liberating as it is utterly terrifying - though it is never enough to prevent your hands from edging closer together still with each night that passes.

---------

When the time called for your return to Kamino you found yourself missing your midnight rendezvous terribly. As wonderful as it felt to be reunited with Shaak Ti - and the validation that came coupled with knowledge that she had personally requested your assistance - you had hoped that your return to the aquatic planet would have provided more of a distraction to your feelings, as they continued to grow more troublesome the longer your feet were planted on Coruscant soil.

Kamino at first glance did indeed grant you the neutral, reflective space you had hoped for, with its sterilised atmosphere and focus on regimented routine. In an idealised reality this would have concluded by leading you back to your senses once more - ensuring your return to conforming to the Jedi belief that your role left you with no room for attachments, the same conduct that had been rooted within so many others before you and would continue long after you were gone.

But it became quickly apparent that your heart and ingrained principles were locked in a war of their own. Try as you did, it seemed that no matter how often you meditated, how hard you pushed your training or how much time you dedicated to aiding Master Ti with her research within the cloning facility, the rawness of your emotions refused to cooperate alongside your conscience.

The fact that the night sky across Kamino seemed so dull compared to Coruscant’s only helped strengthen your yearning to return to the urbanised planet - regardless whatever indifference you had once painted it with.

Though by now, you knew deep down that it was pointless to attempt to convince yourself that homesickness for the planet was the main target of your pining.

You can only hope that he misses you too.

---------

It isn’t until months later, amidst the threat of another Separatist invasion, that you get to reunite with the 501st once more. It's almost poetic in the most ridiculous way, with how it's the droid army that drags you together again.

Master Ti seems to sense your growing anticipation from the moment you both receive the news that it's the 501st that are being deployed to strengthen the blockade.

“You are not guarding yourself well enough, young Jedi.” Her tone is stern, but it's laced with gentle concern as you both walk towards the airfield. The sky is sombre and overcast with navy bunches of clouds, they hang forebodingly over the platform where Kenobi and Skywalker are currently occupied unloading their troops. It takes effort to fight back a sigh of frustration as you peer at her from the corner of your eye. You can feel her glancing back against the confines of her own periphery.

“You have no need to be nervous. After all, you have fought alongside the clone army countless times now, have you not?” the edge of her robes brush against you as she edges slightly closer, the fabric billowing elegantly with the wind. A serene smile graces her features and it contrasts starkly with the quizzical expression the Prime Minister sports as he leers at you over the peaks of her montrals.

“The 501st know your strengths as you know their own. Your anxiety has no place amongst allies and friends.”

You force a smile in her direction, nodding absentmindedly before turning your attention to the bearded General striding towards you both, Skywalker in tow close behind him. The pleasantries exchanged between your groups are mercifully brief, with Lama Su dictating most of the course of conversation with the Jedi. Everyone seems oddly calm given the circumstances that Kamino currently faces, but you can’t deny that it is nice to see the familiar faces of the two men once again - though you can’t help the twinge of disappointment that flickers as you note Ahsoka’s absence between them.

It's eventually decided that you are to be stationed within the cloning facility, to protect the key route towards the barracks from the inside. The irony of protecting the process responsible for commodifying your living troops isn't lost on you, but you continue to bite your tongue the same way you had been for what seemed like eons now, and make haste on your retreat back towards the base after dedicating best wishes to each of the generals. It is going to be a bloody battle and you’re confident that everyone around you can feel it too. There's an unease penetrating the air of the base and you catch yourself scanning over the waves of men as they begin to fill the monochrome hallways. It is impossible to not wonder how many will lose their lives just to ensure that more of their brothers can be spawned to replace them while their armour still held warmth.

It's during that miserable train of thought that you finally feel it again: a familiar marigold warmth that bubbles and spikes through the force with an intrepidation that you know can only belong to one particular person. You’re drawn to it like a bee to nectar as you weave through the sprawling hallways.

This time it's Fives’ turn to be surprised as you slip easily behind where he and Echo idle as they happily wave off the shrinking figure of an elderly maintenance worker. The bearded trooper visibly startles at the call of his name, almost hurtling his helmet at the back of an unlucky droid’s head in the process. Echo instantly stiffens his posture in your presence, though the chuckle he bites back at his counterpart’s expense does not go unnoticed by either you or Fives. The sourness instinctively tainting his face quickly dissolves as he turns to face you, that signature smile creasing across his features in its wake. The trooper appears almost dazed as he exclaims your name breathily, as though your very presence has knocked the wind from his lungs.

Echo shoots him a flabbergasted expression in response, clearly past the point of correcting his brother for his lack of decorum. The thought alone pulls a chuckle of amusement from you. You find yourself almost lost for words for a moment then, as amidst the happiness it dawns on you just how much you have missed the 501st, how much you have missed Fives.

So much for not forming attachments.

“I take it you’ll be fighting alongside us again then, sir?”

The answer to Fives’ question is so obvious that you elect to let Echo’s facepalm answer it for you. The way his ears tint pink at the comment betrays the confident smirk that has yet to fade from his lips. It paints such a charming picture that you can’t help but laugh a little louder at his detriment. Surprisingly, it only seems to stretch his grin wider, that same rosy hue flaring across his cheeks in tandem with it now.

“I’ve missed that sound.”

His voice is uncharacteristically small this time, so much so you’re not sure the thought was intended to be spoken aloud. You’re grateful that Echo manages to distract Fives with a well aimed elbow jab to the armpit - right where the armour cuts off - because you’re certain that after processing that comment your face has flushed a colour to rival his own.

“Di’kut! You’ll get yourself court-martialed if you keep speaking so improperly to every General that talks to you!”

Fives seems largely unphased by his brother’s fretting, simply cocking an eyebrow at the uptight trooper before shooting you a quick knowing look, nursing his new injury all the while.

The two of them certainly paint a colourful picture with their interactions, it's a beautiful contrast to the barren ambience of Kamino.

“I am not your general, Echo,” your tone is soft as you step closer to the pair, “I ask that you think of me as a fellow soldier-in-arms, as your brothers do - at least for this fight if nothing else.”

Your smile wilts as you glance past the two men to take in your surroundings once more, noting the abundance of young cadets being shepherded in formation through the crowded space - each of their expressions resolute, yet still hinting towards the fear you knew dwelled beneath them. There's a pregnant pause before you force yourself to speak again, but neither of the brothers make any move to interrupt.

“I’ve spent countless months on Kamino throughout this war, I’ve helped Master Ti to train hundreds of your brothers and I’m sure that I’ve produced enough reports to put the entire Kaminoan government to shame by now.” Your focus wavers as you mull over the words on your tongue, head now clouded with more unpleasant truths than you were prepared to speak of, “I suppose… this place is as much my second home as it is yours at this point.”

The last of your words hang hollow in your throat. How many of their brothers had you seen born here in two short years? How many had you overseen the training of, only to stand back in complacency as they were shipped off as cannon fodder before they even had the chance to develop a proper personality?

All in the name of duty and war.

The anxiety permeating across the base suddenly begins to buzz so loudly that it deafens you.

“With respect, sir - we appear to have lost you.”

Fives taps his knuckles against your own so subtly that you truly only register it when his aura is close enough to wrap around yours. It's just enough to ground you back to reality and as a deep breath pushes itself from your lungs, you finally notice the set of concerned golden eyes locked on your own. His face is trained in a look he's given you all too often by now, but under the sharpness of the lighting it makes your blood flare with hot, fresh shame.

---------

The battle itself erupts quicker than anyone in the base expects, and it soon becomes all too apparent that Grievous and his forces have plans that extend beyond just an aerial assault on the blockade.

You had been ordered by Shaak Ti to remain strictly within the cloning complex and to concentrate on protecting the branching pathway that led towards the cadet barracks, though as things currently stood, it seemed that the majority of the action was taking place on the upper levels. By now the entire building was under lockdown, its previously monochromatic hallways now dark and looming, bathed only in the bloody flow of the emergency lights. The dulled atmosphere tightened your senses considerably, and through the blaring of the alarm system you could make out the sounds of combat erupting in the levels above you, as well as the screams of your men as they fell. Your grip around your saber hilt tightens until it's almost painful and you attempt to focus on the sensation to quell the pounding instinct to climb up to the upper floor and join the fight there yourself. There was a shortage of manpower across your particular sector, so you knew the importance you held in remaining as their main line of defence.

The rhythmic sound of metallic footfall halts you before the urge truly vanishes, dominating even the scream of the alarm in your ears. A sizeable squadron of droids approaching from your northern flank, you deduce. The sounds of combat are almost deafening at this point, only seeming to increase in pitch with each pulsation of the alarm above you. It all makes it incredibly difficult to get a clear sense of exactly how many droids you’re faced with, or what equipment they are sporting. You trust your competency in battle enough to see you through the majority of them, cutting down battle droids was nothing new at this point after all - but with the nearest troopers occupied with holding down the barracks hidden further down the base and evacuating the cadets stationed there, you’re painfully aware that if things were to go south the way they had on Rishi, your chances of rescue were much slimmer.

A grenade detonates atop the overlooking bridge and the resulting force is enough to shake even the ground beneath your own feet and send a cloud of smoke rippling down through the ceiling. You steady your stance, unflinching even as the grip on your weapon bites your knuckles white against the skin. Your heart thumps to the beat of an army’s march within your chest, the sound counting down to the second you’ll be forced to pounce.

It's at that moment that another set of footsteps echoes throughout the crumbling hallway that branches off behind you. You whip around towards its source, igniting your saber and slicing through the billowing clouds of dust and duracrete particles. Your heart drops to your stomach the moment a terrified group of young cadets come into view. The one closest flinches at the bright glow of your weapon, its light casting across his face and highlighting the shimmer of fresh tear tracks marred across his cheeks. The rest of the group are clustered behind him, herded together like lost lambs trying so desperately to dress themselves as brave wolves in the face of danger.

The clanking grows ever closer as you stare at the children, a lump hardening in your throat at the sight of them before it is replaced by a hot rush of fury.

They will not die here, you will not allow it.

You silently gesture at them to keep moving, praying to the stars that the path down the corridor would give way to more of their older brothers with the power to spirit them away to safety.

Run. Please for the love of the maker just run and don’t look back - you are children, not heroes. You can only hope that your stare brands the thought into their minds as you raise a rigid finger to your lips, each and every muscle wound tight with queasy apprehension.

Your posture slacks slightly with relief as the cadets file away down the passageway despite the flash of reluctance that threatens to halt their movements. One of them, the shortest of the group - an oddity that would consider him a malformation by Kaminoan standards - glances back over his shoulder at you as he runs. You attempt to smile in response - grateful that the distance and poor visibility means that he cannot see the tremor dance across your hands as you raise your stance once more.

A sea of glowing eyes pierces through the murky corridor the second the cadets are out of sight. You inhale deeply and attempt to calm your mind and ease the blood thumping in your ears until only one thought continues to echo through your mind like a mantra: the less of them that make it past you, the more chance your troops have of fending them off. The barracks are no doubt their prime target and you’re all too aware that the Republic defence is spread incredibly thin across this section of the base. Cornering the defenceless and the young is low, even for the Separatists. The thought fuels the force behind your wrist as you jerk to cleave into the durasteel coated wall beside you, nerves snapping to attention and priming themselves for battle. The footsteps and phantom lights halt as the sound of your saber tearing across the surface ripples through the air, accompanied by a crescendo of molten amber and sparks as you step slowly forward - all in an attempt to create as much noise and attract as much of their attention as possible.

The metallic bite of adrenaline fills your mouth as you leap to cleave into the first droid, it takes mere seconds after that before the scream of the alarm is drowned out by the sound of blasterfire.

---------

Fives’ head continues to spin even after the barrack’s air supply runs clear enough for him to remove it from the confines of his helmet. It had been a hard-won victory over the Separatists, the state of the base, as well as the numerous body bags littering the compound were evidence enough of that. His heart ached with the knowledge that 99 had sacrificed his life to assist him and his brothers, yet the pain twisted deeper still knowing that the elderly clone’s life would no doubt fade into obscurity alongside his thousands of fallen kin before him.

His ears are still ringing despite the ceasefire and he’s pretty sure there’s a bruising lump forming where he had hit his head dodging a stray bolt of enemy fire. At least now he could fully appreciate why Rex was so fond of his helmet, though his tattoo would likely need retouching where the skin had split on impact.

More pain, great.

Beside him the cadets he and Echo had taken into their care marched with thinly veiled excitement, the adrenaline still fresh from their first taste of real combat. It was difficult for Fives to return the shy grin one flashed at him with the sterile glare of a freshly laid shroud framing the background behind the boy. Maintenance droids had stacked the corpses like dominoes against the walls and try as he might, it was difficult for Fives not to see it as a macabre premonition of things likely to come for the young soldier. The helmet under his arm felt more like a lead weight now.

Fives knew as well as any other clone that they were bred to fight and die for the glory of the Republic - that there was no choice but to make peace with the fact they would always be seen as mere numbers by both their creators and enemies alike. But there was something that sat uncomfortably cold behind his subconscious as he watched the cadets, barely tall enough to wield the blasters they had been given earlier without struggling, jive and stumble alongside each other amidst the bodies and debris that littered their path.

Perhaps his favourite Jedi and their frustrations over the commodification of his brothers’ lives had rubbed off on him more than they should.

The panic didn't set in until his group passed through a forked corridor, its walls sporting the telltale scorch marks of a lightsaber blade that had prompted a particularly outspoken cadet to speak up. His voice is disturbingly calm as he mentions that it had been thanks to a lone Jedi that he and his squadron had managed to escape safely. The comment is delivered in an almost offhand manner that only serves to spiral Fives’ thoughts downwards as he recalls you mentioning where exactly you were being stationed before the fight had begun.

Fives’ anxiety increases tenfold as his eyes meet with the sheer carnage splayed amongst the walkway. Droids of varying models lay dented and bisected, scattered and still smoking in places across the metallic graveyard. The floor beneath them is so marked by blasterfire that his footprints leave sooty marks as he navigates around them, the taste of blaster residue hanging bitter on his tongue.

There are almost as many as his entire team faced at the barrack’s entrance.

He can hear the heaviness of his breathing even without the helmet amplifying the sound.

“There doesn't appear to be a body amongst the droids.”

Echo’s statement may have sounded hollow by anyone else’s standards, but Fives could quickly deduce the intention behind his brother’s statement, even with the visor of Echo’s helmet obscuring his face.

It did little to ease the dread poisoning his heartbeat as he continued to will himself forward towards the exit of the facility.

There was blood mixed within the oil that stuck to his boots.

---------

He can barely hold back a shaky laugh of relief when he spots you across the airfield. You’re propped up atop a pile of supply crates that are currently functioning as a makeshift medical bay, the more severe battle casualties being loaded onto the ship directly behind you.

Echo is scarcely able to stop him before he takes off running the entire length of the platform it takes to get to you, hissing all the while that they should both hurry to regroup with Commander Cody and Captain Rex who no doubt had already finalised their own reports to their Jedi Generals - his concerns remain unheeded.

Any protocol sewn into his mind is quickly pushed aside the moment your face comes into clear view once more, your name slipping past his lips alongside a thankful prayer that you’re alive and in mostly one piece.

You’re clearly worse for wear after what Fives assumes was your one-man show against a droid squadron: your clothes are singed with blaster fire and your entire body appears to slump with a heavy fatigue, chest still heaving from the strain of battle. Fives can't help but recoil backwards slightly as his eyes wander to the large bacta-dressing that Kix has just finished applying to your shoulder.

“Slippery droid clipped my bad shoulder and I took a few more shots as a result - but I’ll be fine, it's nowhere near as bad as what I took on Rishi, I can promise you that.” you smile up at him and even with Kix’s tattooed head obscuring half of the expression from his view Fives still thinks you look beautiful, the way the Kaminoan sunset bathes your skin in its glow only serving to quicken the pace of his heartbeat even further. For once in his life, Fives is lost for words. He's only able to shake his head in awestruck disbelief, relief and affection manifesting in an exhale that carries the bundle of emotions across his entire body.

“Yep, nothing good ol’ bacta can’t fix.” Kix’s voice rings triumphant as he pulls back from his work, clearly pleased with the notion as he gathers his tools from atop the supply crate next to him. Fives’ eyes catch yours as you flash him a knowing grin, eyes twinkling with undeniable mirth despite the exhaustion clouding them.

It takes every ounce of his self restraint to hold him back from kissing you right then.

Ironically enough it's also your voice that grounds him back to reality.

“You really should go and report to Rex and Cody, Kix mentioned that they were looking to tell you something important.” A nod of your head alerts Fives to the cross-armed figure behind him and the realisation that Echo has been standing there impatiently the entire time.

“Besides, Echo looks like he’s about ready to implode with how long you’ve kept him waiting.”

---------

It was honestly surprising to find yourself back on Coruscant so soon after the Battle of Kamino’s conclusion, and at Shaak Ti’s orders no less. You were certain that now of all times she would need your continued assistance, at the very least for the cleanup process if nothing else. Yet despite it all she had been insistent that the 501st needed you more, having noted with an uncharacteristically wry smile that there were now two new ARC troopers she needed a report conducting upon and that you were the perfect candidate to fulfil her request - and you certainly weren't going to argue with her any further after that, lest you read too much into it.

The 501st wasted no time in celebrating Echo and Fives’ promotion to ARC trooper status. The doors to the barracks had barely sealed shut before they had begun to parade the boys and their new armour around the crowded space. It sparked a sense of relief in you seeing them gallivanting around with boyish glee, clearly intent on making the most of what leave they had been granted. Hopefully it provided some updraft to their morale following their efforts to defend Kamino, they had all certainly earned it.

Rex had even dipped his boots into the festivities, making a lighthearted jest when you pointed out how the boys’ new armour components contrasted so blatantly with their older, more battle-worn kit. The captain claimed that they would soon grow into it the same way they had with their “shiny” uniform on Rishi (though he did lament the lack of Rishi eel blood to stain Echo’s armour with this time around). You vividly recall having to swiftly duck out of the way as someone spun Fives around a little too suddenly, resulting in the collision between his new pauldron and an unfortunate trooper sending the latter man stumbling your way. Rex hadn’t been as fortunate, and you were positive that the look his face sported as he found himself flattened to the ground would continue to make you laugh for as long as you remained alive - not that anyone would ever get away with bringing it up again.

You had a suspicion that the bottle of liquor the boys had passed around after Rex had left was smuggled in by Anakin himself, and you had made a note to blame him for the universal groan of disappointment that followed when you politely declined the invitation to share it. Hardcase was especially apparent with his dismay, practically throwing himself at your feet in protest.

“But you’re an honorary member of the 501st! You have to drink with us!” he had sloshed the bottle towards you as if he were a drunken senator emphasising his point to an equally inebriated audience. You were certain your clothes still smelled faintly of sunfruit liquor in places where the rowdy soldier had splashed you with it.

You also didn't miss the way Fives’ molten gaze had followed the stray droplets that had landed on your neck, nor the way he licked his lips as they cascaded down your collar.

You excused yourself for the night shortly after that, reminding the men to behave as best they possibly could as you did. You all knew that wouldn't be the case - they needed to let off a battalion’s worth of steam and had every intention of painting Galactic City red with the force of it.

Sleep continuously evaded you even long after the last of the troopers dragged themselves in from 79’s. You made the decision to take up post at your usual spot overlooking the city skyline, seating yourself upon the banking with an amused smile and a rare sense of contentment running through your veins. The chill of a passing breeze prompted you to pull the thick covering of your cloak closer to your body, its material providing the only warmth besides what little your sleepwear did. You hadn't bothered to change before wandering outside, confident that you would remain undetected as you always did - with the on-duty guards too preoccupied with ensuring their drunken brothers didn’t wake up the rest of the base with their shenanigans to concern themselves with a sober Jedi minding their own business. The murmur of hushed voices below you steals your attention moments later and you can just about make out the figure of a trooper as he leans in to kiss a blue-skinned twi’lek goodnight. You raise your eyebrows at the sight, a knowing smile stretching across your face despite there being no one with you to share the secret with.

Or so you thought. A fumbled curse echoes through the shadows and your heart leaps for a second at the sound, hands twitching automatically to your waist until you realise who it is that is responsible for it.

“I’m honestly surprised you’re lucid enough to come and find me, Fives.” You hope that your lighthearted tone hides the self consciousness that comes with being found in your sleepwear with little more than a cloak to hide behind. If he's clocked on to your embarrassment he doesn’t show it, his attention locked onto the bottle between his fingers as he stops to take a particularly hearty swig of it. You don't bother to hide your laughter as he almost stumbles over a loose rock while traversing towards you, though a surprised shriek almost tears from your lungs once he gets close enough that you can make out what he's wearing.

“Where in the kriffing hell did you get that?!” the pitch of your question rises to a quiet scream between bubbling laughter as you attempt to muffle yourself behind your palm.

Fives stands before you in his tight-fitting blacks, sans armour but sporting the addition of a very threadbare and crumpled civilian jacket that you know for a fact he didn't get from the base. He blinks a few times before raking his eyes over your own figure and tilting his head shamelessly at the sight. Heat flares across your cheeks at the gesture and locking eyes with him reveals that he’s really quite coherent despite what your first impression suggested otherwise.

“You talkin’ about the liquor or my disguise?”

He strikes what you think is meant to be a seductive pose as he angles his head and peers at you from behind his lashes, grin glinting under the starlight.

What an absolute buffoon this man is. You must be in love.

“I’ve never seen you wear that before and I hope I never have to see it again! That thing looks like it stinks.”

He slaps a hand over his chest in mock-offence at the scathing critique, but the stupid lopsided smirk he wears gives him away instantly.

“I’ll have you know, sirrr-” he drawls out the honorific almost mockingly as he leans closer towards you before attempting the sentence over again, “I’ll have you know that I washed this fine garment by hand in 79’s refresher myself!”

He looks so proud of himself as he says it that you can’t help but feel another swell of ridiculous affection bloom in your chest. You shake your head in disbelief and somehow he seems to take it as an invitation to join you, lowering himself inelegantly into the spot beside you. Both of your knees touch together, as they always do - but without the layer of armour his body seems to burn as it presses against your own. It's not an unwelcome sensation by any means.

Fives nudges the half-empty glass bottle towards you eagerly and you grasp hold of it with a sigh. It’s surface feels surprisingly clammy to the touch and it makes you wonder just how long he's been nursing the drink before seeking you out.

“Persuaded the cantina owner to bet it on an arm wrestlin’ match.” the explanation rolls off his tongue with ease, as though he was merely describing the weather. A snort escapes you at the absurdity of the thought.

“And the jacket?”

He bobs his head for a moment, brow trained on the ground as he appears to mull over his options for an explanation. He settles on capturing you with a smug expression as a gloveless finger taps against the side of his nose, eyes gleaming with tipsy glee all the while.

“Now that is a secret I will take to the grave. But what I can tell you is that our distinguished Captain does a terrible job of checking the barracks, ‘cos I’ve had this little number stashed away for weeks.” He slaps the surface of his thighs to mark an end to the anecdote before rocking against you, a wicked grin sliding over his face as he does.

“Now are you going to finally join me in celebrating my promotion or what?”

You scoff in good humour before raising the bottle towards your lips, Fives’ focus flickering between your mouth and eyes as you do.

“Unbelievable. You are truly the most unique man in this army Fives, I don’t think I’ll ever meet another person like you ever again in my lifetime.”

The liquor burns as it slips down your gullet and your lips continue to buzz even as you choke back the last of the mouthful. It's certainly not sunfruit flavoured and you splutter pathetically for a moment before recoiling backwards to glare at the offending bottle.

“Stars above! Are you sure you weren't duped into drinking speeder fuel? I can hardly feel my lips now!”

Fives has to plant a hand into the ground beneath him to support the belting laughter wrecking through his lungs. You can feel the vibration of it rattling across your own body with the way he's curled up against you and it feels wonderful, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of entertaining his mockery. Instead you childishly jab your fingers into his ribs, a giggle slipping past the reaches of your own smile as he lets a squawk of protest at the intrusion.

It's then that you realise that somewhere amidst your laughter you’ve both ended up lying on the ground. Fives’ face twists into a pout when you lift a finger to his lips to quieten him.

“Shhhhh, what would Echo think if he caught you sneaking alcohol to your disciplined Jedi knight?”

Your smile is twisted with challenge as you whisper, the alcohol settling into a warm buzz across your stomach and mind now. He cocks a dark brow in response and you feel his bottom lip twitch under your touch.

“I think that Echo is passed out in his bunk - alongside the rest of the 501st.”

A shiver passes through you as the heat of his breath wraps around your digits. It's still not enough to make you relent.

“And why exactly are you not with them? I expected you to come back in an even worse state than they have, especially considering it's meant to be your big night too.”

His expression drops to something warmer then and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound ever more loudly in your ears.

“...’cos I wanted to make sure I was sober enough to come ‘n see you.” He murmurs in a voice that seems small and ill fitting for the Fives you know, but it still makes your pulse skyrocket as it reaches your ears. He’s staring at you so intensely now that you aren’t sure you can just blame the alcohol for making you feel so vulnerable. There’s a charged silence that falls between you as he slowly reaches to curl his fingers around your wrist and guide your hand from his face. With the barrier between you snatched away you feel even more naked than before, but a glance over his face in the close proximity reveals he’s blushing just as deeply as you are.

“Wonder what General Skywalker would say if he saw his fellow Jedi knight fraternising with his own ARC trooper?” his tone is still playful, but it quivers slightly and gives away just how nervous he is beneath the bravado. The grip he has around your wrist flexes as you shuffle closer towards him in an act so bold it threatens to catch you off guard.

“Anakin Skywalker owes me for covering for him far too many times as it is.”

That certainly wasn't a lie, but your conviction was at least enough to shake a chuckle across the stiff slopes of Fives’ shoulders. You catch the way his Adam's apple bobs with anticipation for a moment before he leans in even closer, lips practically brushing your own as he speaks,

“Well I suppose we’re as guilty as each other then. A perfect match, I’d say.”

A tilt of your head is all it takes to finally close the gap between you both. Your mouth slots against his own with a desperation that encompasses the months of yearning and unspoken affection that had been brewing between you for far too long. He groans in satisfaction against your lips before threading his fingers in a hold across your jaw to pull you almost bruisingly close. It's all you can do to fist your hands in the material of his blacks as the air is stolen from your lungs, clawing at his chest as his tongue dips hotly against your lower lip. He tastes sharp and smoky with the remnants of the liquor that sticks to his tongue - and in that moment you decide that it has suddenly transformed into your favourite taste across the whole galaxy.

You’re convinced you’ve branded him with a piece of your very heart because it aches when you’re forced to pull away, the need for oxygen finally too overwhelming. Fives looks awestruck as he stares back, breathless and dumbfounded for a beautiful moment before he pulls you close again, narrowly avoiding knocking your foreheads together as he laughs with such delight that it almost brings a sentimental tear to your eye.

“Wow, just… wow,” his voice is giddy with happiness, “I've dreamed of doing that forever, never dared dream it would ever be as amazing as that though.”

You let out a snort of air that morphs into a chuckle as his nose scrunches in protest at the sensation.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or take that as a challenge from you Fives.”

You capture his lips once more, effectively cutting off whatever snarky response was brewing behind them. He melts into the embrace, the hand that cupped your jaw now grasping the back of your neck to keep you locked against him - he needn’t worry, for you’re certain it would take an entire army’s force to ever pry you from his hold again. His other arm winds itself around your waist, the gesture carrying a sense of security with it that soothes the weariness netted in your muscles. A sigh is coaxed from you as his kisses drift to mark a clumsy pattern across your jawline and neck, the roughness of his goatee grazing your skin and leaving a prickle of goosebumps in its wake.

“I love you,” the confession vibrates against your flesh, Fives’ face searing with heat as he tucks it in the crook of your shoulder. His heart hammers against his rib cage as he curls around you,

“call me naive or drunk or - or whatever you want, but it's true and I mean it.”

You can't help but try and tug him closer still as adoration flutters over you in golden waves, swearing that in that moment even the barren ground beneath you seemed to ripple with the force of it.

Initially you had considered the Rishi Moon inspection no differently to how you had its predecessors. It had been difficult to view it as more than just another extension of your duties to the Republic war effort. This form of assignment had long since devolved into an almost mundane routine, shoehorned between battles and skirmishes that required the more physical side of your prowess. You couldn’t deny that the visits were far from an unwelcome task, in an odd way they added a sense of rare sereneness to your list of duties as the war raged on. The men you encountered were always in good spirits after receiving praise for their contributions towards keeping the war effort running smoothly. This was especially true for the newer additions to each post, who practically glowed when Cody so much as looked in their direction - and struggled not to pout like scolded younglings whenever Rex pointed out the sloppiness of their barracks. More than anything though, seeing the men at each destination settled into their own close-knit brotherhoods formed a warm contrast to the overly sterilised and bordering artificial atmosphere you had come to witness on Kamino whenever your presence was required by Master Shaak Ti.

You had suspected that your attendance had never been truly needed from the start, so to say. The combined experience and respect both Rex and Cody possessed was ample - they certainly had no real need for a Jedi to oversee them evaluate the competence of their own men. Yet they never showed any sign of protest - and neither did you, outwardly at least. The two soldiers were pleasant enough company, as were the numerous waves of their brothers-in-arms that you had encountered at each stop the starship deposited you at. It had reached the point that the more months that passed by with the war, the more familiar faces you came to recognise the sight, and the absence of during your rarer return visits.

The latter of which was quickly becoming an all too common occurrence as the Separatists continued to grow stronger still and the numbers of casualties rose accordingly.

It was a fact that did little to ease the gnawing sense of guilt that had been bubbling towards the forefront of your mind with a vengeance as of late. Though you understood the importance that the inspections held, the thought that your own attributes as a Jedi would be better served fighting alongside these men - as you had many times before, had begun to rear its head with vicious frequency. As the cycles ticked by your mind had become almost overwhelmed with the sheer number of casualties and missing men you had to report back to Shaak Ti on Kamino each time. You had known how overworked your Jedi senior had become as of late, her involvement with the Kaminoans forcibly entwining closer each cycle - regardless of the outcome of each battle the Republic were faced with. Your kinship with the Togruta, as well as your longstanding dedication to the order and cause had always ensured your cooperation with whatever task you were designated. It was important to you to attempt to ease the workload of your closest peer in whatever way you could. Yet despite this, the longer you had spent within the frontlines of the army, the more you had learnt the multitude of ways that distinguished each clone from every one of his brothers - it had all affected you so deeply that it had become difficult for you to set eyes on an optimistic young rookie and to not automatically think of how the Kaminoans, and the majority of the Republic, saw them more as munitions than living men.

The thought of how the production of the army had swollen to accommodate the demands of the war now turned your stomach and the knowledge that you were due to return to Kamino in the coming few months only aided in forcing the bile further up your throat.

Cody appeared to have picked up on the spike in your uneasiness as you had boarded the Obex that afternoon. He had offered you a tight smile and the reassurance that your visit to Rishi Station would be both short and painless given the size of the base and the tranquility of its barren landscape. Rex had even chimed in to joke that the most action any of the troops ever encountered on Rishi was if one of its native fauna, the giant Rishi Eel, somehow found its way past the blast doors.

How wrong they had both turned out to be.

The atmosphere on the station when you finally disembarked on the moon’s surface had felt unbalanced, insidious even. You had held firm suspicion that there was more at play than simply the assigned troopers being “sloppy,” as Rex had so eloquently put it. The bizarre holocomm interaction a very apprehensive trooper had established while the three of you were in orbit had already made you uneasy. Even when your feet touched the ground of the Republic property you couldn’t shake the warning surge of adrenaline that had you reaching for your saber as you fell into line behind the two troopers.

Your suspicions were all but confirmed the moment the “deck officer” had stumbled disjointedly towards your group, with a pattern of speech that matched the jagged movements of his limbs. As soon as that red flare had cut its way through the navy curtain of sky above you the eerie atmosphere appeared to ignite alongside it. No sooner had Rex shot down the droid that was masquerading as one of your own did the three of you find yourself surrounded on all sides by Separatist commando droids.

You initially managed to hold your own on the small landing platform - noting between deflecting shots that their blaster comprehension and protective armour easily trumped that of an average battle droid. Despite your perceived competence however, you failed to heed Cody’s cry for you to take cover as you lifted a hand to force push an advancing flock of drones over the edge of the platform. This slip up earned you a vibrosword cleaved through the shoulder of your dominant arm, courtesy of a particularly unrelenting commando who had already withstood several shots of the commander’s blaster to ambush you from behind. The resulting blow from its blade was mercifully weakened enough to not sever the joint too deeply, but it ended up being enough to force you to drop your stance and almost your lightsaber in response. You shudder to think what may have become of you had Rex not made the tactical decision to grab your withering form and hurtle you both off the edge of the platform. You can recall the heat of an explosion rippling through the air as Rex had lowered you both to the ground with the aid of his ascension cable, the wreckage of the Obex scattering like meteorites around you as he did so - glittering in the starlight alongside the droplets of blood that trickled from your shoulder.

It was as you had watched them break from your flesh and fall that your thoughts had twisted in dark amusement despite the searing pain stippling across your upper body. Your unspoken wish to provide more hands-on support to the troopers had finally been granted once more - just not in the way you had expected.

And then you had met them. Or rather you had stood back and weakly protested as your comrade had pointed his blaster at the three bewildered men that had stumbled into the canyon space before you. One by one they had scrambled to remove their helmets at Rex’s command, revealing three almost identical faces. Cody’s body had obstructed most of your view as he attended to your injury, but even with the threat that the blood loss posed to your focus, you had easily deduced that these men were not primed for the type of combat you yourselves had barely just escaped. Rex seemed to have echoed your sentiment, as you had practically felt him smirk through the visor of his helmet at the way the rookies visibly flinched once the maws of a Rishi eel broke through the tension of the scene seconds later. The captain had made quick work of the beast, shooting it dead with flawless accuracy - face never wandering from the group of clones that stood before him. You had felt Cody’s body vibrate with a ghost of a chuckle at the way the men all but fawned over Rex’s prowess with a blaster.

Whatever serenity that had established itself was quickly shattered not long after both your groups had introduced themselves. You discovered that this “batch of shinies” was in fact the only surviving remnants of Rishi’s defence: leaving you all hopelessly outnumbered with no transport, limited weapons and medical supplies as well as a shoulder so badly injured that you were barely able to scale back up the cliffside without threatening to tear it open further - nevermind wield a saber optimally.

Eventually the six of you managed to make it back to the main control room through a tumultuous mixture of force and trickery that would have put a Jedi mind trick to shame - it had become apparent to both you and Cody then, that Anakin’s unconventional style of doing things had rubbed off on Rex more than the captain would ever admit aloud.

What small victory you had acquired however was soon dashed as you were called towards the control room’s viewing port. Staring back at you then through the murkiness of space had been an entire Separatist fleet, armed to the teeth and advancing on your location - no doubt in search of the missing signal from the battle droids you had slain prior.

A seed of doubt had planted itself within the depths of your brain at that moment, cultured with the knowledge that even an experienced Jedi knight stood little chance outnumbered by an entire fleet of commando droids likely spearheaded by Grievous himself.

And yet somehow your unlikely group had persevered.

Despite the odds being so heavily skewed against you, the resulting conclusion to the Battle of the Rishi Moon had trumped over whatever chaos the six of you had experienced at its beginning. Though you had ultimately ensured victory for the Republic by denying the Separatist invasion, your victory had nonetheless branded itself a costly one.

Fresh, hot guilt seared through you from the moment you were hauled aboard the Resolute by General Skywalker. It had been a narrow escape for you in particular, having previously resigned yourself to expending what little strength you had left on reinforcing the blast doors shut with the force while the boys attempted to set up an explosion to extinguish the threat of the droid fleet. It had been thanks to the bravery of one clone in particular - Hevy - the most rambunctious of the rookie trio, who had insisted for you all to abandon your post while he bought you the time you needed to escape.

His sacrifice had been the only thing that had ensured the rest of you had time to navigate through the station’s vent system to where your rescue had finally emerged to liberate you from the doomed outpost.

It was the type of guilt you knew would remain branded on your conscience long after the scorch marks had healed over your flesh.

------

Your skin itched as you marched through the corridors of the Resolute, thoughts buzzing so loudly in your mind you were certain you could feel them echo within your bones. You had seen men die in battle countless times before today, yet there was something particularly bitter about this incident that struck you deeper with each step you made towards the medical wing. Five rookie troopers and their sergeant had died attempting to warn you and defend a base that had been left to burn alongside their bodies. Five inexperienced soldiers whose remains were left to char and mangle alongside those of the same droids who had murdered them.

Five men whose lives had been snuffed out of existence just as they were so close to being reunited with their brothers on the frontlines - who were so close to tasting what little opportunity they would have to breathe air that wasn’t as cold and sterile as that on Kamino and Rishi.

But through it all, the thought that cut the deepest was that you knew the lives and sacrifice of these men were no more than an afterthought to the Republic and their kaminoan creators. You had simmered with that knowledge aboard the Resolute climbed upwards and away from Rishi Station, watching with a heavy heart as the outpost shrunk to a burning flicker along with the bodies of its protectors.

Your blood threatened to boil over as you had all but spat your report to Obi Wan and Anakin before the generals had kindly dismissed you to go and treat your wounds. You knew that they felt it too, perhaps for them it was hidden beneath the layers of unfaltering loyalty they held towards the Republic, but it was a bitterness that lived in both of them as well. Their faces spoke where their words did not reach you.

“These men were brave - they were born to be. Their deaths will never be in vain while the Republic still stands. They have done their greatest duty.”

These same words, uttered countless times by more figureheads than you cared to remember, were beginning to ring hollow to you now - more so than ever before. They all but slipped from you in searing strips across your flesh, pulsing in time with the blood that dribbled down your shoulder.

“You should really slap a bacta-patch on that wound, General.”

A familiarly accented voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was as though its owner had obstructed the trajectory of your march with his entire body, forcing your pace to slow as you approached the only other person in the narrow walkway. Your eyes climbed to reach his own from the floor-bound position you hadn’t even realised they had fallen to.

A clone stood to attention before you with a tight-lipped smile, his gaze flinching from your shoulder to your face in time with your movements. It took a moment for you to fight through a sudden wave of lightheadedness that protested across your vision at the abrupt movement, but you soon came to recognise him as one of the surviving rookie soldiers that had escaped alongside you.

His tone was distinctly shaken, but undeniably charismatic - almost oddly casual by clone standards.He spoke to you like you were an old friend, not a Jedi knight that he’d met and battled beside for the first and almost last time in his military career. It struck you as bizarre considering the horrors he had just experienced not even a full day beforehand.

You zoned out as the memories resurfaced. It granted him enough time to lean forward and offer you a friendly pat on your good shoulder. His breathy chuckle whipped through your ears as the contact twisted your body to a sharp halt, the nerves still buzzing even after he retracted the offending hand away with a start.

“I am not your General.”

You winced as at the sharpness of your tone, the words oozing with a venom that seemed alien to you. The shock quickly made way for another flood of shame as you watched him visibly flinch with surprise at your outburst. You knew you had no right to speak so cruelly to a fellow soldier, especially one that had just risked his own life to ensure you kept your own.

The feeling only swelled more in the silence that forced its way between your bodies as he composed himself and stood back to the attention of your tired gaze. A drawn out sigh of frustration left your lips as you mumbled an apology. Your good arm raised slowly to press its shaky digits against your temple in a futile attempt to quell the stress migraine that was knotting itself there. Since when had the ship’s lights seemed so bright that they burned you? The ache behind your eyes almost rivalled the throb of your shoulder at this point.

You squinted through the pain in an attempt to regard the trooper properly. His armour shone a sharp white as he fidgeted under the corridor’s lighting. The plastoid surface was devoid of any severe marring or decoration that you had seen numerous times on his brothers’ uniform. What grime and blaster residue did litter its surface appeared fresh and smeared, as if he had attempted to haphazardly wipe it away with the palms of his gloves in a hurry. The red ribbon of the medal signifying his recent admittance to the 501st battalion served as the only smattering of colour across the entire ensemble. Its medallion hung heavy on his chest piece, the metallic surface reflecting almost painfully in the artificial light. You were grateful to tear your eyes away from it. Instead you pulled your gaze upwards across the plains of his face, stopping once you connected with an all too familiar pair of brown eyes once more. He blinked back owlishly at you, head tilting involuntarily under your scrutiny.

Underneath the dark hairline of his crew cut sat a freshly inked tattoo of the number five, the skin around it still reddened and peeling in places. Everything about him seemed younger than the majority of the other clones you had encountered before, and it all served to twist the blade of guilt further into your stomach. CT-5555, Fives, your assumption had been correct - he was indeed one of the “shinies” that had assisted you, Rex and Cody against the Separatists targeting the Rishi Moon. The same rookie who’s first taste of real battle had resulted in the deaths of all but one of his squadmates.

The guilt twisted deeper still - now it was your turn to flinch like a wounded animal as you curled into yourself inwardly.

“Fives, I’m sorry. I had no right to speak to you like that,” you punctuated your sentence with a sigh, head bowing in apology to the wide-eyed soldier. He deserved more from you than a half-mumbled apology, “No doubt you have even more on your mind than I do after all this.”

To your surprise, the corner of his lips flickered with a playful smirk for just a moment before it pulled back once more into the composed expression befitting of a soldier. He practically buzzed with unspoken energy and you could feel the mirth blossom in his gaze as his eyes flickered between your own, posture visibly relaxing as he did.

“No hard feelings, uh, sir.”

There's still a sense of uncertainty as he addresses you, but the surprising enthusiasm with which he salutes you is somehow able to coax the wisp of a smile from you too. It's almost endearing really and you aren't completely sure how to feel about it.

“At ease, Fives. You’ve more than earned it after today.”

He grins openly then and your eyes draw to the shadow of stubble that peppers his jaw, signifying the beginnings of a beard. A reminder of his individuality, you think. Distracted, you absent-mindedly move to cross your arms until a sharp flash of pain from your shoulder reminds you that there is more to your injury than just a dull ache.

Fives’ grin falls as you cringe, hand quickly extending to brush against your forearm for a moment in concern. The warmth of his gloved fingers barely skims against you before his military protocol seems to beat him back into place this time. Fives bites back a curse as ungraciously stumbles over his own feet with the effort. His failed attempt to save his graces is so comical that you can’t help but chuckle over the sight of him. You’re not entirely sure if the blood loss has caught back up with you, or if it's just because of how animated he is - but somehow he had effortlessly become the only thing to pull a laugh from you in weeks.

The expression he shoots you when you stand back to full height is nothing less than perplexed. You can’t blame him for his bewilderment - after all you were supposed to be a Jedi Knight, a high-ranking member of the military and representative of an ancient order renowned for their serene temperament. Yet here you stood, having snapped between scolding him to laughing at him in mere minutes as you bled out onto the metal floor at your feet.

“Um, should I accompany you to the medbay, sir?” he cocks an eyebrow at you as he speaks, and you’re sure you catch the way his lips fight against the curve of a smirk once more.

A nervous habit? Or did he simply peg you as an amusing fool with overly turbulent emotions? The shake of your head answers his question, yet the smile refuses to slip from your face.

“I’m sure I’ll survive on my own. I’m positive it's nothing so serious that slapping a bacta-patch on won't fix it.”

He tilts his head with a smile as you echo his earlier sentiment, exhaling from his nose and allowing his posture to ease just slightly. It is at that moment you know everything is right between you once more. Content, you offer him a short bow of your head before turning to resume your march towards the medical bay. You continue to feel his gaze on you even as your back is turned, and you tilt slightly to catch his eye again, taking care to support your injured shoulder with your spare hand now.

“...Fives?” your tone is a tad more playful than you intend as your words are thrown across the corridor - you mentally blame his aura as being far too infectious to your weakened state,

“I hope our paths cross again now that you’ve been made part of the 501st. I’ll be watching out for you, you’re interesting.”

The last part slips out before you can halt it, but the way his smile flashes so dazzlingly under those horrible bright lights reassures you that your comment was most definitely well received.

He shoots you another eager salute and his medal clatters noisily to the ground as his arm catches it with the motion. This time the laughter that leaves you is so heavy that you’re positive it can be heard from the other side of the ship. Your bad shoulder protests with the force of it, but it just feels so good to laugh again after so many miserable months of war that you can’t bring yourself to care.

You steal another glance backwards before rounding the corner, catching his eyes one last time despite the distance. He throws you another cheeky smirk, teeth still peeking out from behind his lips as he bends to retrieve the offending medal - and as he raises a hand in a lazy wave you’re sure he flashes you a wink.