#pabuverse

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▄︻デ══━一

Val hadn’t spoken to anyone since the fight with Gobi.

The silence was deafening, a heavy shroud that clung to her as she walked the halls of the Syndulla home, her mind swirling with the aftermath of words that could never be unsaid.

She loved her brother. There was no question about that. But spirits, could he make it impossible sometimes. Every word from his mouth seemed to chip away at the patience she’d spent years building. It was the curse of being alone, of having no one but each other to rely on. No one else to soften the blow when family tore at the fabric of your patience. Your heart. It made you forgive too quickly.

Forgive, because who else was there to turn to when the argument ended? When all you had was each other?

She tried to hold on to the anger. The hurt. The sharp edge of betrayal. She gripped it like a lifeline, refusing to let it slip away. But no matter how hard she tried, it was like holding sand in her hands. The harder she squeezed, the faster it slipped through her fingers.

She’d been sitting in her room, distant and cold, when the beep of her commlink shattered the quiet. Her hand twitched towards it, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t ready to face him yet. Gobi.

She ignored it. But then it came again. The beep grew louder, more insistent–persistent like a nagging thought you couldn’t shake. Val let her eyes fall shut, pushing it to the back of her mind. Let him wait, she thought, her jaw set tight. She didn’t have the energy for this. Not right now.

The beeping continued, relentless in its persistence. She exhaled sharply, but still, she didn’t move. Not until, eventually, the sound stopped. Good, she thought. Finally.

She closed her eyes again, letting the silence sink back into the room, cocooning her thoughts.

Then, thunk.

Her heart skipped. Another sound, this one softer, but purposeful. A rhythm. A deliberate pattern. She went still, her breath catching as she turned toward the balcony.

Stones?

The faint thunk of small rocks tapping against the side of the wall. No one else would be out there. No one but–

Her hand gripped the railing and she leaned out, eyes scanning the shadows below. There he was.

Teal armor, gleaming faintly under the cold light of the twin moons. His helmet was on–rare for Howzer, especially this late, but the absence of his usual confident stance, the stiffness in his posture, told her this wasn’t a casual visit.

Her pulse quickened, and without thinking, her hand reached down to unhook the escape ladder. She tossed it over the side with a sharp flick of her wrist, waiting, not questioning. Something told her this was bigger than just a late-night visit. If Howzer was here, it meant something was wrong. The calm, methodical way he moved–always precise, always in control–told her this wasn’t just another routine patrol. He wouldn’t risk being spotted or straying from his post unless there was something urgent.

The second his boots hit the balcony with a soft thud, he ripped his helmet off in one fluid motion. His dark hair was tousled from the movement, his face tight with unease as he looked at her. Wide eyes that spoke of urgency, of danger. “We’re being deployed to the canyons,” he said, his voice clipped, breathless. “Your brother left the planet. They think he’s gone to secure illegal arms.”

Val’s stomach dropped, her entire body going cold. “Gobi,” she muttered, her voice bitter, laced with a harsh scoff as she looked up at the moon, as if she could curse him through the distance. “What is he thinking?” She turned away from him for a moment, pacing across the balcony, trying to reign in the emotions that threatened to burst through. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

But Howzer’s voice stopped her. “That’s not all,” he said, his tone lowering even further. His eyes flicked away from her for a brief moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face before he met her gaze again.

Val’s breath caught in her chest as her heart skipped. She didn’t need to hear the rest. She already knew. “He’s got Hera with him.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut. For a moment, everything went still. The world outside the balcony disappeared, the sounds of the night fading into the background. Hera.

A child.

A kid who shouldn’t have been anywhere near this mess.

A kid who–by Gobi’s recklessness–was now caught in the middle of it all.

The air in her lungs seemed to freeze as she fought to hold herself together. It wasn’t just that Gobi had once again acted without thinking, but the fact that he had taken Hera–Cham’s daughter–into this madness.

Her hands shook, and her voice was a low hiss of fury. “I’m going to kill him.”

Her eyes flashed with a fire she hadn’t felt in days–rage, hot and pure. The words tasted like venom as they left her lips. Every inch of her screamed for action, for something–anything–to fix this. To get her brother to see some kind of reason.  Val turned sharply toward Howzer, her fists clenching so tightly her nails dug into her palms. The anger, raw and unfurling, made her body feel like a live wire. “We need to go after them. Now.”

The words were a demand, not a plea, a directive fueled by desperation and a need for action. But Howzer didn’t flinch. Instead, his face tightened with something more like regret, and the moment stretched as the weight of the situation settled between them.

He took a step forward, his voice low but firm. “I’m going. You are staying here. I’m leaving one of my men to watch over you.”

Val’s stomach twisted. “What? No. You can’t–”

“I told the commander they should watch your movements,” Howzer continued, his tone unwavering, as if the decision had already been made. “To verify you aren’t planning to aid Gobi.”

Her pulse quickened, anger boiling up from somewhere deep inside her. How dare he? “Howzer–”

“No.” He cut her off before she could argue. His eyes were steely, darkened with something she couldn’t quite place. But there was no mistaking the weight behind his words. “You promised me, Val. You promised me you would stay out of it.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to feel the sting of his words, but it wasn’t just his promise hanging in the air–it was the responsibility he’d taken upon himself. The protection he’d sworn to offer. But his voice softened, just for a moment, as if he could see the internal battle waging in her eyes. “I need you to stay here. I can’t risk losing you.”

Val’s breath caught, her pulse thundering in her ears. She wanted to scream. To throw herself into the fray with him. But his gaze held her–steady, unwavering– and she knew, knew, that he wasn’t just trying to keep her out of harm’s way. There was more. He was scared. For her. For them. And that was something she couldn’t ignore.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words stuck in her throat. Howzer was a man of action, a soldier to his very core. He didn’t beg. Not like this. But now… now she saw the fear in his eyes. It was a rawness she hadn’t expected.

“Val,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice now rougher. “I’m trying to keep you out of this. Please. I can’t do this without knowing you’re safe. If I’m out there, if Gobi gets arrested, we both know how quickly things could spiral. I need you to have an alibi. The entire time. Even if it means staying here, waiting from a distance.”

She could see the burden in his posture, the weight of his promise, the unspoken fear of losing everything. Howzer was strong, but he wasn’t invincible. And he needed her to stay out of it. For both their sakes.

Val felt her heart hammer in her chest as she processed his words. He wasn’t just asking for her safety–he was asking her to trust him. To trust that he would make sure Hera was safe, that he would do everything he could to fix the mess Gobi had created, no matter how reckless or impulsive it had been.

She thought about it, weighing the truth of his words against the fear that burned in her gut. She could feel the pull, the urge to act, to chase after her brother and bring Hera back before anything else happened. But she also knew how dangerous that would be. Gobi had already put them all in jeopardy. And if she made it worse–if she crossed the line–then everything would unravel.

Val closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to center herself. The anger that had flooded her veins now settled into a bitter calm. She trusted Howzer. She trusted him more than anyone else at that moment. He would do what was necessary. He would find a way to get them out of this. But she had to stay out of it. For their sake.

“Fine.” Her voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, as if the weight of the decision was too much to fully speak aloud. “I’ll stay. I’ll do as you ask.”

But even as she said it, something bitter churned in her stomach. The promise she’d made to Howzer hung between them like a silent contract. She had made it for a reason, but now, as she stood before him, she wasn’t sure if it was enough.

She could see it in his eyes–relief. A flash of it, brief but undeniable.

“I’ll make sure Gobi’s reckless plans don’t drag you further into this,” Howzer said, his tone softer now, the tension easing, though still thick with the urgency that had brought him here in the first place. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, a gesture so small, yet it felt like the weight of the world behind it. “But you have to stay here. For now.”

Val nodded slowly, though her mind and heart were still swirling with all that had transpired and all that still loomed on the horizon. She trusted Howzer’s sensibilities. He wouldn’t abandon her. But it was the trust in herself, in her decision, that she wasn’t sure of. The silence stretched between them for a beat, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, Howzer’s hand slid from her shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly as if reluctant to break the contact. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, filling the space around her.

Val’s breath caught as he reached for her, and before she could react, Howzer leaned in. His forehead pressed gently to hers, his breath warm against her skin, the sensation grounding her. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away. There was no Gobi, no Empire, no danger. Just the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath.

He stayed there, their foreheads touching, his hands resting lightly on her arms.

“Stay safe, Val,” Howzer murmured, his voice low and almost pleading, though the words were barely above a whisper. The weight of them settled into the space between them, unspoken but understood. He wasn’t just worried about her safety; he was asking her to trust him. To stay behind, to let him go and fight the battles that needed fighting, while she stayed in the shadows and waited.

Val’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment before pulling herself back to reality. She could feel the tension in his body, the underlying fear that he was trying so hard to hide–fear for her, fear for everything that was at stake. The ache in her chest grew as she realized how much this meant. Howzer wasn’t just a soldier or a protector; he was someone who cared in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.

“I’ll be here,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly as she pulled back, her forehead still lingering against his. “But be careful.”

A brief flash of a smile tugged at his lips, his eyes softer now, though there was still a hard edge to them. The warrior, ever vigilant, never fully at peace. “I will,” he said, his voice a promise. Then, with one final glance, Howzer stepped back, the space between them growing, a reluctant distance.

Without another word, he turned toward the balcony, his heavy boots making a soft echo against the stone floor. As he prepared to leave, he hesitated for just a heartbeat, looking back at her. The silent communication between them was thick with everything they hadn’t said.

Then, he was gone.

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Rex was used to always pushing past injuries. Broken ribs? No problem. Twisted ankle? He’d be fine. Minor stab wound? He could stitch it later. Honestly the last time he truly remembered being sidelined was Salecumi. So the temperate, not to mention empty home on Pabu, was quite out of the ordinary for him. 

His first visit to the island brought about a very interesting discovery in the form of the resident doctor. Crazy red hair. Boisterous laugh that somewhat reminded him of Jesse. Wide eyes that sometimes appeared silver and other times appeared as blue as the sky above. Her dedication to the work she did was truly unmatched, and her ability to make him unwind was startling to say the least. Having not intended to fall asleep the moment they both sat down next to one another, Rex was shocked when a few hours later he awoke to a dark house, with a blanket tossed over not just himself but also the weight against his shoulder. Slumped over and sound asleep, with red hair hiding her face from view, laid Mae. Knowing that she hadn’t slept in days while carefully delivering a natural born child, he hadn’t had it in his heart to wake her up. Falling back asleep himself, only to have hazy memories of an apology a few hours later whispered in his ear before he woke up the next morning alone. 

Not to mention the following day, when he’d been dragged by the others down to the ocean, he’d only get met with more of a surprise in the fact that she was already there, far out on the water engaging in some sort of water sport he’d never seen. Standing up on the water atop a large board, moving her body with an ease he’d not expected until she quite literally jumped over the back of the rolling wave and disappeared. And when she came to greet the others, she’d offered to show him how to try with an encouraging smile.

What surprised him most was how easily he let her small hand grasp his wrist, pulling him into the water beside her. They laughed as she playfully pushed his shoulders down, trying to correct his stiff posture. Impressed by the balance required for this activity, he did his best to keep up. Even more unexpected than indulging in such a carefree pastime was how much he enjoyed the intimate lesson in what she called surfing, despite his clumsy attempts.

The way she had sent him off that morning stayed with him—placing that beautiful shard of glass around his neck, a gift he still wore, months later. It was a silent reminder of what they'd both endured and how, despite everything, they'd emerged stronger, transformed by their experiences. He had overcome the fear of her past to see her for who she truly was—and he had been grateful every day for it.

Not to mention the way he'd so irrationally rushed from his post to be there for her in that chaotic friend date. It was the embodiment of everything he actively worked to suppress. And that kiss? Would've happened had Wolffe not made an untimely appearance.

A significant turn of events had been Echo and Aiko’s whirlwind wedding. It wasn’t long after he’d met Mae that his friend chose to marry the empath, compelling Rex to take another break for the celebrations. That night was filled with drinks, laughter, and more dancing than he’d ever imagined himself doing—culminating in a surprisingly memorable conclusion that lingered in his thoughts long after.

That had been a few months ago. Since then, he would occasionally drop by to share a meal with Mae and the newlyweds before heading back out. On rare occasions, he’d stay the night but always felt hesitant about overstaying his welcome, despite their insistence that his company was appreciated. Rex had his routines and habits, and he wasn’t quite ready to alter them for the sake of settling down. He liked to wake after a consistent amount of sleep each rotation and donned his armor in the same way—starting from the lower half and working his way up, aware that mobility became more restrictive as he encased himself in plastoid.

He never let more than two days pass without shaving the stubble accumulating on his upper lip and chin, spending a similar amount of time in the refresher, where cleanliness was his only goal. Two cups of caf in the morning, no more, no less. Nights were spent double-checking manuals or reports, maintaining records purely for his own convenience. Routine was practical, a thread of normalcy in a world that felt increasingly unpredictable. He rarely deviated from his schedule, but lately, he made an effort to send a transmission each day to the pretty physician on Pabu.

During long flights through deep space, he found himself captivated by her knack for weaving words that brought a smile to his face. More often than not, she could elicit a laugh from him, whether recalling something amusing his Vod had done or sharing stories from her day. When frustration weighed him down, her reassuring words reminded him that brighter days were ahead. It was remarkable how someone so positive could emerge from such a dark and tumultuous background.

Despite the unsettling revelations about her upbringing, he was surprised to learn that her biological family was a notorious crime syndicate known for their violent tendencies. It was difficult to reconcile the image of such a sweet, gentle, and selfless woman with the environment in which she was raised. Yet it was clear that she possessed an unwavering moral compass, guiding her to escape and never look back. This understanding unfolded as they exchanged their stories, deepening their connection.

Zygerria - the time her father killed a servant of hers simply to remove her only friend.

Rishi moon outpost - when she’d been captured by a rival family. 

The assault on Kamino - her father’s third wedding that ended in bloodshed. 

The citadel - when she’d lost her dearest advisor under mysterious circumstances. 

Fives - finding out that her father had killed innocent children of a rival. 

Umbara - when her younger sister tried to poison her for no rhyme or reason. 

Order 66 - when her father discovered the protector they’d hired for her had become her lover and they’d disposed of him before promising her to a much older man.

She had witnessed far too much, and from a young age. The more Rex learned about the horrors she had faced, the more impressed he became. With each story he shared, she responded with a level of care and compassion that mirrored what he would expect from someone who had experienced the turmoil of Ryloth firsthand. Through her understanding, he began to feel less like a captain and more like a man.

He could never fault Anakin. Having such a close connection to the former Jedi meant he was privy to the man’s deepest secret—his private relationship with a senator—and Rex never took that bond for granted. The same could be said for Ahsoka. He had watched her evolve from a spirited child fighting a war to a shattered, disgraced Jedi, one of the last of her kind. Both held a special place in his heart, as they respected him in ways he hadn’t expected. They had entrusted him with their lives and secrets, a bond unique between clones and Jedi. Yet, despite their shared experiences, he always felt his primary role was that of their captain.

The same applied to the Batch and even Echo at times, who viewed him as a soldier still on a mission. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for perpetuating that narrative. Most of them had moved on, leaving their lives as soldiers or mercenaries behind, and it showed in the bright smiles and warmth they exuded. But Rex felt a strong sense of duty to the clones he couldn’t save, and so he clung to his routine. Being seen as the trooper he had always been was a valid assumption, yet Mae’s unique way of addressing him purely as a man was a breath of fresh air.

Perhaps being acutely aware that, by design, he was not unique—recognizing that it was his actions that set him apart—made him feel different from natural-borns. Genetically speaking, they were unique. Every clone, whether they admitted it or not, was on a quest to forge their own destiny, more than ever before. To be their own man. To find someone who made them feel at ease, as if they were the most special person in an army of millions. However, it was very hard for him to shake that sense of purpose. 

Rex was a soldier, forged for battle from the moment he was born. Even with the freedom to choose another path, the call to fulfill his designed purpose grew stronger, an undeniable force he continued to be unable to ignore.

While he had grown comfortable with the doctor, that ease didn’t extend to feeling at home in her space while he healed. Grumbling the whole way, he fought as Echo and the others dragged him into the clinic, the throbbing in his right arm intensifying with time. He’d been shot and patched up just enough to make it back to the island, his arm hanging limply at his side as he watched the sweet expression on the doctor’s face shift from eagerness to concern. Before he knew it, she had him on the examination table, ready to put her skills to work.

The diagnosis? Aggravated nerve damage. He recalled experiencing similar issues after being shot in the chest, but this felt far worse. Despite his unease at the shared worry from the group around him, even he couldn’t argue against the necessity of the short procedure she insisted on to properly repair his nerve system. Mae was efficient, and for the most part, the aftermath was as painless as could be expected given his broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and the small incisions in his back. He was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t felt more pain in the days that followed.

It had been over a week since then, and he found himself on enforced couch rest—enforced by Mae’s threats to both him and any clone who dared let him back into his armor before he was fully healed. Not wanting to test her resolve, and feeling the weight of his injury more than he cared to admit, he complied. He hunkered down in the spare room and on the sofa while she routinely checked on his progress each day, gradually settling into a new rhythm.

This routine brought with it hot showers and the soft glow of morning light reflecting off her blue eyes as they peeked out from behind a steaming cup of caf. He savored the slow pace of each day, with time to think and simply exist instead of rushing to the next obligation. There were late-night whispers tangled in her frizzy red curls, a comforting stillness he had never truly experienced before. Yet, as he lay awake at night, he struggled against the yearning to make this moment last forever.

It wasn't all sunshine, though. The frustration of not being able to use his dominant hand gnawed at him constantly. Getting dressed became a slow, cumbersome process as he navigated around the cast and stitches. More than that, it heightened the feeling of being a burden—a sensation he couldn’t shake off. He appreciated the care he received: adjusting pillows, checking if he was comfortable, and offering help when necessary. Yet, there remained a gap filled with discomfort when it came to asking for assistance with tasks that could ease his unease.

One of his latest sources of irritation was catching sight of himself in the mirror. Throughout the war, Rex had always managed to maintain his appearance—keeping his stubble in check and getting his haircut short every week. Growing up on Kamino with blond hair, especially as one of the first batches of clones, had made him acutely aware of his distinctiveness among his brothers. As he aged, it made him feel special to have a look that set him apart. His preference for practicality dictated his short hairstyle; it minimized the risk of hair sticking up and reduced perspiration inside his helmet. Less time in the shower and minimal maintenance suited him perfectly.

Now, however, he faced a new challenge. The inability to use his dominant hand meant he couldn't manage his hair, which had grown longer than he liked. It was past due for a trim when he got injured, and the additional healing time had only exacerbated the situation. The strands stuck up enough in the mornings that he worried he looked ridiculous—especially in front of a pretty doctor. The thought was utterly humiliating. But with Echo off-world and his reluctance to ask for help, he’d have to figure out how to cope with it.

She was later than usual—much later. The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time the door finally swung open and Mae stumbled inside. Her normally light footfalls were slightly heavier, a subtle shift that didn’t escape his notice. From the sofa, he watched as exhaustion faded from her eyes the moment they landed on him, still awake and waiting. It felt wrong to sleep knowing the doctor was still working; someone needed to ensure she got home safely, especially since Aiko had moved out shortly after the wedding.

"You’re supposed to be resting," she said, her honeyed voice laced with mischief as she leaned against the wall, finger pointed at him playfully.

"I am resting," he replied matter-of-factly, gesturing to the holopad in his lap.

"It’s late. You should be asleep."

"So should you."

Her grin widened at his retort as she stepped closer, peering over his shoulder from behind the couch. 

"Says the man who’s working late as well," she scoffed, and he glanced up at her. With her glasses pushed back on her head and hair escaping its clip, she somehow managed to look beautiful even in her disheveled state.

"I hardly consider this working. Any reason you’re stumbling in so late?" he asked, hoping his tone didn’t come off as an interrogation. Fortunately, her response reassured him.

"Boating accident. Lots of concussions and stitches," Mae groaned, bending slightly to lean over the backrest beside him, finally letting the weight of her tired body ease off her feet.

“Everyone alright?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He knew Wrecker and Crosshair often took the boats out with the others.

“More or less. Although I’ll be making more than a few house calls in the next few days…” she replied, her blue eyes blinking at him with an exhausted look that felt like a punch to the gut. It might seem innocent to an outsider, but Rex understood it better than that—it was a look of frustration at one’s sense of duty.

“Aren’t you already doing that now?” he teased, gesturing to his arm in the sling.

“That’s different. It’s not exactly challenging to check up on my favorite patient,” she responded sweetly, pushing herself back to a standing position. Before he could retort, she added, “Which reminds me, I want to take a look at your arm, if that’s okay?”

“And what if I say no?” he quipped, eliciting a bright laugh from her that warmed his heart.

“Come on, hotshot. I’ll make it quick.” With a nod toward the room he’d been occupying, he decided it was best to comply. He stood as gracefully as he could, despite his arm being immobilized, and trailed behind her. The height difference still threw him off balance; it was almost comical how he glanced completely over the top of her head. Rex couldn’t help but wonder how so much spirit could fit into such a petite frame. He found himself worrying that her delicate features were affecting his focus, his thoughts drifting to how her small hands would feel against his larger ones.

With a flick of the light switch, Mae gestured for him to sit on the edge of the tub, and Rex kept his back to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her lowering her glasses onto her face in the mirror’s reflection. He remembered asking her why she wore them; she had explained that she struggled to see smaller details up close, opting for the frames despite their comical appearance. It was strange how, even after seeing similar glasses on Tech, he felt a rush of affection for how adorable they looked on her. The delicate wire outline made her eyes appear larger, and the thought distracted him enough that he jumped when she touched him.

She had never been shy about physical contact. From the way she leaned against him when they barely knew each other to how she pulled him into the water and adjusted his position to match hers, Mae was always comfortable in her movements. She would often brush her fingers against his when they shared caff or steady herself on his frame as she moved about her home, revealing a charming clumsiness. So, when her gentle hands lifted the back of his shirt, he closed his eyes, knowing she was inspecting the incision marks she’d made to check for infection.

“The bruising is almost completely gone, and the stitches look great. No external signs of further damage,” she said softly. “Can I see your arm?” 

He nodded, turning back around as she knelt down and carefully removed the sling. It fell limply to his side, still keeping the cast in place to support the broken bone.

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc? Give it to me straight,” Rex said, infusing false bravado into his tone for humor as she set down the sleeve of his shirt and gently tugged at his good shoulder to prompt him to turn. Rex complied, facing her fully.

“Hmm, it’s looking worse for wear, Trooper. We might need to cut it off,” she said, her tone artificially stern. Rex played into her attempt at humor as he gasped, instinctively clutching his bicep with his good hand.

“Cut it off, you say?” He forced the most sorrowful expression he could muster, tucking his chin down for effect. But Mae had other ideas. Gently, her soft fingers grasped his chin, tilting his face up to meet her gaze.

“Yes. You’re looking a bit scruffy, Cap. Doctor’s orders: it’s time to get rid of the beard.” As their eyes locked, Rex leaned back slightly, his own hand replacing hers as he brushed over the stubble she’d playfully teased him about. Deep down he knew she likely wasn’t bothered, and merely used it as a quip. He wasn’t sure about it, but like his unruly hair, he felt uncomfortable tackling it alone.

“Something wrong?” she asked, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. His eyes darted away, and she noticed the sudden disdain on his face, wondering if she had crossed a line.

“Not really,” he shrugged, still avoiding her gaze. His good hand left his jaw to run along the back of his neck and into his hair. Mae observed how the low light of the bathroom highlighted the golden strands. She had come to understand that while clones often shared similar traits, some, like Rex’s hair, stood out as more rare. There was something profoundly authentic about his short, blond fuzz that resonated with her; it had become a defining feature she associated with him alone. Yet, the sudden tension in the room made her wonder if she had inadvertently reminded him of a brother long gone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back as if his uncertainty had suddenly become contagious, spreading to her as well.

“No, it’s—you didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, shaking his head indignantly.

“It certainly feels like I did,” she countered, arms crossed and looking down at him. Rex recognized the expression; he’d given it to countless shinnies over the years. It was that stern look born of genuine concern.

“You didn’t,” he insisted, still scratching the back of his neck.

“Then what is it?” Mae pressed, raising an eyebrow as she pushed her glasses back atop her head.

“Nothing important, that’s for sure,” he mumbled, glancing down at the floor and studying the frayed edges of the rug near the tub.

“How about you try me? What’s insignificant to some can be really important to others. Why not let me make that judgment myself?” Her offer was hard to refuse, especially with those pleading, pretty eyes looking back at him.

“It’s just annoying when it starts looking like that.” He gestured dismissively to his head, hoping to end the conversation while reassuring her that she hadn’t upset him, yet still avoiding any deeper explanation.

“Your facial hair?” she asked gently, taking a closer look in the soft light. It wasn’t outrageously overgrown—just a fine layer of short stubble, similar to the length he usually kept his hair, but darker, like his eyebrows. It didn’t look bad at all, just different. That’s why she had teased him; she was used to the clean-cut former captain.

“No, that’s not really a nuisance unless it's under my helmet,” Rex replied, feeling the movement as Mae lowered herself to sit beside him. He could feel her eyes wandering over his face, and his skin began to heat up. Unaccustomed to such scrutiny, he felt a pang of embarrassment at the thought that he might have drawn attention to his hair, especially if she hadn’t really noticed it before.

Ever the keen observer, she noticed the way the short hairs at the nape of his neck hung over his collar more than she had ever seen. Her scrutiny revealed a slightly overgrown version of his usual buzzcut, making it clear his hair was longer than he typically preferred. “You mean your hair,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I’ve always just handled it myself, but I can’t exactly do much like this,” he said, lifting his arm as best he could from the constraints of the sling. Confusion flickered across her features as she replied, “Oh, I thought—never mind.”

“You thought...?” 

“It was a silly thought.”

“What’s silly to some may be completely reasonable to others,” Rex echoed her earlier sentiment, prompting a soft chuckle from her.

“I can’t decide if I like that you’re repeating me or if I hate that you’re using my words against me. I just assumed Mr. Wields-Two-Pistols would be ambidextrous,” Mae said, her tone earnest. The laugh that burst from Rex’s throat told her he had taken it as a playful jab. Given the lighthearted shift, she found she could roll with it. The banter they shared had quickly become one of her favorite ways to pass the time.

“That’s fair. I’d say I’m pretty confident with my non-dominant hand,” he replied with a reassuring grin.

“But not confident enough to cut your hair,” she shot back.

“Not confident enough to cut my hair,” he echoed with a chuckle, nodding along. Mae simply hummed in response, her gaze flicking from the top of his head to his eyes and back again.

“You know, if you need help, all you have to do is ask. It’s really that simple,” she said, her tone earnest.

“You’ve done enough,” he replied, but she wasn’t convinced.

“But you’re clearly annoyed.”

“I’ll live,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t make sure my patients were comfortable while they heal?” she asked, her tone light but laced with sincerity.

“You’d be just that—a doctor, not a barber. And certainly not the one responsible for this mess,” he replied with mock sternness.

“So, you don’t want my help?” 

Did he? Rex hesitated. On one hand, he was genuinely frustrated not only with how it looked but also with the irritating feeling of hair brushing against his neck. He didn’t doubt her ability; it was hard to imagine her messing it up. Yet, on the other hand, he hated asking for help.

“I don’t expect you to—”

“I know you don’t expect it. I’m offering,” she interjected, her confidence shining through.

He sighed, meeting her gaze, filled with reassurance and eagerness. Despite how far this was from his usual comfort zone, a small part of him wanted to accept her offer. It was practical, yes, but also because he enjoyed the warmth of her hands.

“Do you even know how?” he asked.

“In theory,” she replied with a playful grin.

“That’s concerning,” he scoffed at her candidness, but he appreciated her honesty in admitting she wasn’t quite sure how to help—yet was willing to give it a shot anyway. “Bag’s on the sink,” he nodded toward the counter, eliciting a bright smile that revealed her white teeth.

“You really are going to let me help?” she asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“As long as you’re careful,” he replied, knowing deep down that she would be. One thing he’d learned about Mae was her meticulous attention to detail. She seemed to remember everything he shared, retaining even the smallest moments and asking insightful questions later that confirmed her understanding. It was almost unsettling how naturally she absorbed information. Tech was the only other person he’d met with such a remarkable mind. In many ways, it was an incredibly attractive quality.

“Please, Captain, careful is my middle name.”

“Oh, sure it is, Miss Mae Careful,” he rolled his eyes. He still didn’t understand why natural-borns had so many names—one was more than enough, in his opinion. Anything beyond a first name and surname seemed excessive.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she warned, tossing the bag into his lap. He sifted through it with his good hand until he found the well-worn GAR trimmers, a replacement he’d acquired midway through the war. After double-checking that it was set to the right length, he held it out to her. Just as Mae’s fingers closed around it, he pulled it back slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Against the grain. Even, firm strokes. Don’t push down too hard, but keep it flat. And go slow,” he instructed, locking eyes with her to ensure she understood. Her widened eyes reflected his seriousness as she nodded, extending her hand. Carefully, he placed the trimmers in her grasp. Rex trusted her—after all, it was the kind of task that was virtually impossible to mess up. Still, his heart raced.

“Question,” Mae said, and he nodded for her to continue. It made sense to address any concerns before they got started. “How do you keep the little hairs from falling down your collar?” She gently tugged at his shirt for emphasis.

“By not wearing a shirt,” Rex replied straightforwardly, then quickly added, “but that’s when I’m alone! I can just leave it on—”

“Rex, I’ve seen you without a shirt. Several times,” she giggled, looking down at him with amusement.

“Still,” he said, unsure how to finish.

“Still what?” she prompted, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I dunno, it just feels…”

“More intimate? Domestic? Exposing?” she teased. Though he wanted to laugh, there was an undeniable truth to her words.

“Something like that. But if you really don’t mind—”

“I don’t.” She set the trimmers back in his lap, then reached for the hem of his shirt, mirroring her earlier action. With care, she pulled it up, helping him slide out of it completely. As Rex’s head emerged, the fabric ruffled his hair, and she smiled at the playful disruption. Unable to resist, she gently brushed his hair back down, pleasantly surprised by how soft it felt. Never having touched him there before, even in jest, the moment felt surprisingly endearing.

At the gentle brush of her fingertips, he closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure why it felt so nice—perhaps it was the simple act of being touched with such tenderness, or maybe it was just her touch itself that made all the difference. Whatever the reason, he found himself relaxing completely. He only peeked open his dark eyes when he heard her chuckling, her fingers still weaving through his hair.

“Something funny?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“You know, growing up, I had a lothcat, and even he didn’t purr this much,” Mae replied with a grin, withdrawing her hand to rest it on his shoulder.

“Felt nice,” he grunted, almost disappointed she had stopped, though relieved to know he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself.

“Of course it did. There are a lot of nerve endings at the base of hair follicles. Stimulation from an outside source often triggers the release of endorphins and other bonding chemicals,” she explained clinically. Yet, a part of him wondered if the connection between them added another layer to the sensation.

“Wouldn’t know. Not like we were braiding each other's hair in the barracks,” he said, snickering at the absurdity of the idea. Mae glanced back down at him, a hint of nervousness flickering in her eyes. Despite knowing it was a straightforward task in theory, she felt a twinge of anxiety about the possibility of messing up. She had earned his trust, but the thought of disappointing him loomed in her mind.

“Something wrong?” he asked, noticing how her eyes avoided his, flickering around the room with uncertainty.

“Just trying to work up the courage,” she admitted.

He held out the trimmer, hoping his confidence would help ease her nerves. To his surprise, she hesitated to take it from him. “What happened to Mae, ‘Careful is my middle name,’ from a few moments ago?”

“Hm?” She seemed to snap back to reality as she finally accepted the device, their eyes meeting briefly.

“Earlier, you claimed that careful was your middle name,” he reminded her with a teasing smile.

“Oh,” she replied, the word hanging in the air as silence enveloped them. He glanced around the still bathroom, taking in the low lighting and the fact that he sat there without a shirt, while she stood above him, exhaustion evident in her eyes. The weight of her apprehension made him feel guilty for even suggesting this.

“We can forget this and go to bed—”

“Pearl.”

“What?” 

“My middle name,” she whispered, leaning closer to get a better look at him. Her fingers brushed the skin of his neck, her gaze falling shyly downward instead of meeting his.

“Pearl?” he echoed softly, surprised. She nodded, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

“Actually, it’s less of a middle name and more of the alias I adopted when I first arrived on Coruscant. I was worried my family would find me, so I created a new identity. It felt wrong to abandon it, so I've sort of made it part of who I am,” she continued, her words spilling out as he looked up at her with a shy grin.

“Well, all we clones have are the names given to us by superiors or our brothers, since the longnecks just assigned us numbers,” he replied.

“I’m sorry for rambling on like this,” she said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her voice.

“Don’t apologize. I enjoy learning new things about you,” Rex reassured her. He couldn’t quite understand why they were having this conversation in the refresher at such an early hour, but there was a palpable energy in the air that intrigued him. Part of him felt excited by the moment, while another part was terrified of what it could mean.

“Is this the part where I admit I’m really scared of messing up?” she said, forcing out a nervous laugh.

“You won’t,” he assured her, gently placing his hand on her forearm for reassurance.

“But what if I do and you get mad at me—”

“I really don’t think I’m capable of getting mad at you,” he chuckled, only to realize the weight of his words in the sudden silence that followed. She lifted the clippers, breaking the tension.

“Alright, we’re doing this?” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’re sure—”

“I am.”

“Okay,” she said, staring at the device as if it might spring to life on its own.

“You know you have to turn it on, right?”

“I was getting there,” she replied with a sigh before following his cue.

“Just remember what I said.”

“Go with the grain, super fast and uneven,” she shot back sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“You’ll do fine, I promise. I trust you.”

“I just don’t trust myself,” she admitted, her voice laced with worry despite the largely dismissive tone.

“Come here,” he said, gently tugging on her free hand until she leaned down to meet his gaze, her other hand switching off the clippers. He reached up to pull her glasses from her hair and settle them back on her face, tucking a few stray curls behind her ears. “That’s better,” he added with a childish grin, suddenly aware of how close they were. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “This isn’t life or death, you know.”

“I know,” she replied.

“The sooner we finish, the sooner the island's prettiest doctor can get some beauty sleep,” he reminded her.

“But I already powered AZI down for the night,” Mae deadpanned, giving him one last look before turning the clippers back on. With one hand resting on his shoulder, she glanced up for guidance.

“You can start anywhere—the side, the back, the top. It really doesn’t matter,” he said, watching as she nodded and lifted the clippers near his forehead, her eyes locking onto his for a brief moment.

“Just go towards the back like this?” 

“Yep, it’s not difficult, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said at last, pressing the clippers against his forehead, the familiar hum resonating through him. As she glided them back, he closed his eyes to shield himself from the falling hairs. When the clippers reached the back of his crown, it paused. “Was that right?” Mae asked timidly, her voice laced with uncertainty. He raised a hand to feel the freshly cut section, leaning slightly to catch a glimpse in the mirror.

“Just like that. You’ll go up on the sides, but it’s the same all the way around. I told you it wasn’t hard,” he reassured her, still puzzled by her hesitation.

“Let’s wait until it’s finished to say that,” she mumbled, returning to her task as he sat patiently, trying to calm his racing heart. Strands of blond hair occasionally drifted onto his shoulders or upper back, and she would gently brush them away with her free hand. 

Suddenly, he felt her move closer, leaning in to inspect his hairline. Her fingers glided over his scalp. 

“Oh wow,” she murmured.

“What?” he asked, curious.

“It’s just really soft—almost like velvet,” she giggled.

“Thanks… I think?” he replied, slightly taken aback. Mae didn’t respond but returned to her standing position. Perhaps it was the sudden movement, but as she moved her stability faltered. Mae quickly reached to steady herself on his shoulder as he instinctively placed his good hand on her waist.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head up to meet her gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she whispered, suddenly aware of just how close they were—noses nearly touching. Her fingers instinctively dug into his shoulder before she loosened her grip. “Sorry,” she added, realizing the added pressure might have hurt his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” he replied, his dark eyes softening at her concern.

“Okay.”

Time seemed to pause as he gazed up at her. Leaning slightly back, he couldn’t remember ever being this close to her before. He noticed a small white scar just below her bottom lip and eyelashes that were darker and thicker than he recalled. Her face was dusted with freckles, but some areas—like the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones—had even more. The details sprang to life in a way he’d never noticed about anyone, especially not the lovely doctor who was touching him so tenderly.

As he continued to look at her, he suddenly realized that a few strands of his own hair had landed across the bridge of her nose, blending in with her freckles and appearing darker against her fair skin. Mortified, he felt a wave of embarrassment at the thought of his hair making its way onto her, especially since she still had more to do.

“Hold still,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand from her waist to gently cup her cheek. The humming of the machinery faded as she slid the lever off, plunging the room into a profound silence. The gasp that escaped her lips at his touch momentarily caught him off guard, but when she didn’t pull away, he let his fingers glide up the side of her face. Her skin felt softer than rose petals beneath his worn palm, and he lingered there for a heartbeat. With a gentle motion, he brushed a stray hair from her nose with his thumb, checking for any others. “I’ve made a mess of you,” he whispered, a soft chuckle escaping him as he met her gaze.

The lighting reflected off her frames, obscuring her eye’s true color, so with newfound courage, Rex pushed her glasses up and aside. After doing so he paused, taking in her eyes colors. 

Though her eyes were primarily a pale blue, a deeper hue circled the rims, giving them an intense sharpness. At times, they almost appeared silver, but now, he could distinguish every intricate detail. The near-white specks around her pupils, mingling with the subtle copper flecks scattered across her irises, were striking. He was intimately familiar with his own eyes—boring, brown, and unremarkable, the same as every other clone’s. But hers... hers were like the midday sky, a vast expanse of shifting clouds and beams of sunlight. The realization hit him with a rush as his gaze flicked back and forth between them, eager to absorb every nuance, every detail that beckoned to be explored.

“Don’t think blond suits me?” she teased, a hint of humor in her voice as he shook his head. He opened his mouth to respond but felt a catch in his throat, carefully clearing it before saying, “While I’m sure you’d still be beautiful, I must admit I’m partial to the red—” He punctuated his words by curling his index finger around a stray strand and giving it a gentle tug.

“Oh?” she gasped, her surprise lighting up her features.

“Absolutely,” Rex replied, running the curl through his fingers with a tenderness that mirrored her own as she began to trace her nails from his shoulder up the back of his neck. “Why’s that?” she asked softly, her gaze searching his.

As he looked deeper into her questioning eyes. There he was, feeling like all the restraint he normally had around her was slipping away. “It’s captivating. Fiery. It suits you,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“It suits you too,” she murmured, immediately blushing as she realized her mistake. “I mean, the blond. Your hair—it suits you. I—oh, I should probably finish what I started, shouldn’t I?” She laughed, recognizing the awkwardness of her slip. Rex couldn’t help but smile at her flustered state, feeling a warmth spread through him as she pushed herself back up. His hand dropped the single strand of her hair he had been holding.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he teased, glancing at the mirror and catching a glimpse of his half-cut hair, realizing he looked rather ridiculous.

“Well, someone distracted me,” she pointed out, stepping to his right before pausing to scrutinize him. “How does this work with your ears and your facial hair?”

“Oh, that’s a good question. You just go over the sideburns since they can be the same length,” he said, trailing off as he bent the top of his ear down out of the way. 

“Alright, and go up?” 

“You got it. You’re a natural,” he confirmed.

“I don’t know how transferable this skill is. I can’t imagine anyone else will come to me with this issue. Besides, your arm will heal soon, and you won’t need me anymore,” she said, following his instructions as she began to trim the sides. The loud hum in his ear made it difficult to hear her, so he remained silent, focusing on the moment.

As Mae carefully maneuvered around his left ear, Rex mulled over her words. He knew this was likely a one-time experience, yet he found it surprisingly pleasant. Sure, he felt a bit exposed, and there was a hint of awkwardness in her unfamiliar movements, but the atmosphere in the room felt charged. He’d never had the chance to be this close to her without it feeling intrusive. More than that, she had allowed him to touch her and offer compliments—this was the boldest he’d been with her yet. Her hands gliding through his hair felt divine, and he could definitely get used to that sensation.

“I could always have another accident,” he trailed off as he felt the trimmer graze the back of his neck. That spot always rattled around in his skull more than anywhere else, and even with his practiced hand, it was one of the trickier areas to reach on his own.

“Are you suggesting you’d intentionally hurt yourself just to get another awkward haircut from me?” Mae teased, letting out a small snort. “Could you look down a bit? It’s hard to see the back.”

“Yeah, I can,” he replied, pausing to comply before adding, “Maybe not intentionally hurt myself, but perhaps… ask for help… if that’s not too much to ask.”

“Hold on, I need to note the time and date—this sounds like Mr. Never Asks for Assistance Unless Under Duress is actually asking for MY help with a personal matter,” she teased, a playful glint in her eye. Rex was about to respond when he felt her fingertips gently lift his chin, drawing his gaze upward. The unexpected touch left him momentarily speechless as Mae, seemingly unaware of his stunned reaction, released his face and resumed her work as if nothing had happened.

He couldn’t recall the last time someone had touched him with such a confident yet delicate manner. Rex wasn’t sure if he adored the ease with which he had allowed the doctor into his personal space, but he could definitely feel the warmth rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Speaking of ears, she simply stroked the skin below his right one as she began with a soft “Do you mind-” and he reached up, bending it out of the way for her without a word. He could barely hear her hum over the grinding of the clippers near his head, but he just looked down at his lap just in time to see her step closer, balancing a knee on his thigh to stabilize herself a bit more. The movement, while mindless on her part, made him feel that warmth in his blood intensify. 

Rex had braced himself for her to notice his unmistakable flush, but when he dared a fleeting glance at her from the corner of his eye, he saw that she had stopped, her fingers grazing over the side of his temple. He knew the mark she was touching—felt its presence just beneath his hairline. She had seen similar scars before, having helped care for his brothers through the same procedure time and again.

"Everything okay?" Rex asked, his voice laced with concern as he noticed her pause, her fingers lingering a moment too long over the scar. The subtle surprise in her touch was enough to make him wonder what was going through her mind.

"Sorry," she murmured, her voice soft with a hint of guilt. "I just... forgot about it, with your hair being long enough to cover it." She resumed her task, her fingers gently pulling away from the silver scar that marred his temple.

But her words left a lingering weight in the air, one that Rex couldn’t shake. There was something odd about the way she had phrased it—an undercurrent of thoughtfulness he couldn’t quite place. The casual admission that she had "forgotten" about the scar meant she had, at some point, noticed it. She had observed it closely enough to remember its existence, even if it had slipped from her mind in recent days.

He knew, without a doubt, that she cared for him. The bond they’d forged was unique, complex, and at times, hard to define. He’d never been able to quite put into words what it all meant, but he felt it, nonetheless. He remembered the easy banter they shared when they first met, how it had come so naturally. Her honesty about her past had earned his respect, and he still kicked himself for nearly missing out on this camaraderie simply because he had assumed she’d be like her family. Every visit to Pabu had only deepened that connection, leaving him with the warmth of her presence long after he’d left.

Rex admired her strength, perhaps more than he let on. She was a civilian, yet she had thrown herself into danger without hesitation, stepping back only when she was injured herself. That kind of bravery was rare. Since then, she’d continued to work tirelessly, helping him and his brothers navigate the complicated transition from soldiers to civilians, guiding them into a life of retirement. The bond they shared had shifted from something fleeting, like ships passing in the night, to something more tethered, more solid—especially after he had given her that comlink.

He had assumed it would be used only on rare occasions, but instead, he found himself eagerly checking in on it every night, excited to hear from her. It felt a little juvenile, almost embarrassingly so, and it reminded him of the way his general had been when they went silent for days, disconnected from his secret wife. Now Rex understood that frustration. In his case, it wasn’t a secret wife, but a woman who had made a lasting impression on him, one whose teasing he found himself missing.

But there was something else—something more recent—that had started to nag at him. He wasn’t blind. He’d noticed her staring at him. Often. More often than he cared to admit, especially when he wasn’t looking, but he could feel her eyes on him, studying his movements, his features. Not that he was much better. He’d come to terms with the fact that, despite his best efforts, he found her incredibly attractive—something he’d promised himself not to let consume him again after that mistaken night in the fresher... But no matter how hard he tried to keep her at arm’s length, that attraction only seemed to grow stronger.

It was a sweet, torturous cycle, and he couldn’t help but feel both frustrated and exhilarated by it all. It was a kind of delightful torment, one he couldn’t seem to escape, no matter how hard he tried. It was-

“Rex?” Her concerned tone snapped him back to reality, and he realized he had zoned out and missed her initial question.

“Huh?” he responded, turning his head instinctively. Her eyes widened as she quickly pulled her hand back, avoiding his ear and face with the trimmer.

“I asked if you were seeing someone during the war,” she said.

“Oh. Uh…” he trailed off. Sure, there had been the occasional fling at the 79s. Most of his brothers had indulged in similar distractions to blow off steam. Sometimes, familiar faces at the club made it easier to slip away together, leaving with a curt “thank you” before heading back to the barracks for some sleep. But those encounters rarely provided much more than a name. Now, as he tried to recall those faces, they all blurred together. A pretty purple Twi’lek with gold lipstick, maybe? A hazy Pantoran woman whose playful bites left marks on his shoulders, which Fives had teased him about for weeks. There was even a Senator’s aide who had flashed him mischievous green eyes before opening the door to a linen closet while he waited for General Skywalker to hurry up. Yet if pressed for more than just fleeting details, he struggled to form a complete picture of any of them.

“Sorry, that was quite forward of me to ask. You don’t have to answer that. Sometimes when I’m really tired, I just blurt out things I shouldn’t,” she rushed out, stepping back slightly to examine her work. Rex would have double-checked her progress, but her question about his romantic history had startled him.

“Not really, no. Not regularly, anyway. Certainly not a real relationship,” he replied, his tone straightforward.

“I see. Not much time for others when you’re committed elsewhere,” Mae said, her tone hinting at a shared understanding.

“What about you?” Rex asked, watching as she reached up to brush stray hairs from his face. He took the opportunity to check the evenness of her work as she replied.

“Oh, I don’t usually draw that kind of attention, if you know what I mean.” Her laughter rang light and a bit forced, but anyone who looked closely could see the shadows in her eyes.

“No, I don’t know what you mean.” He was genuinely confused. Surely she wasn’t suggesting that she wasn’t beautiful? It felt wrong to think that she wasn’t the most striking woman at Echo’s wedding. Aiko was lovely—radiant, even—but Rex had spent the evening trailing behind Mae’s shock of red curls, mesmerized by the way her hips swayed beneath that vibrant, skin-tight dress. He had nearly lost his nerve several times.

Mae scoffed, bending slightly at the waist. As their gazes met, the deep blue of the sky mingled with the moonlit night, revealing the halo of lighter tones around the center of his amber eyes. “What happens now?” she asked softly, placing her palms gently against the sides of his temples to brush away the short blond hairs before letting them rest on his shoulders.

“Hold on, you’re changing the subject,” Rex called out, quickly recognizing her evasive body language—her gaze dropping and her fingers trembling slightly at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He gently pulled one of her hands down from his shoulder, taking it into his worn palm, trying to coax her to look up at him. “Mae,” he prompted, but she remained averted.

The only acknowledgment of his attempt came as a light hum escaped her lips while he moved his thumb along the soft skin of her hand. He was right in his assumption that her hands would be quite small in his own. “You are distractingly gorgeous,” he stated matter-of-factly, hoping his bluntness would convey his sincerity. Yet, she offered no response—not even a sigh or gasp. It was as if she had completely zoned out, her mind elsewhere. As she continued to gaze at his chest, Rex realized what had captured her attention.

His body bore the marks of years spent on the front lines—small scratches from reckless Jedi plans, fading into white lines that disrupted his tanned skin. But there was one scar that stood out, running through the center of his chest, a reminder of an impact though  shattered plastoid that had left a deep entry wound. It served as a constant reminder that just a few inches to the left could have ended his life. In a strange way, he took pride in that scar; it symbolized his survival.

Noticing that Mae may not have even registered his insistence on her captivating beauty, he decided to set that sensitive subject aside. Gently guiding her delicate hand against his, he pressed her palm flat against his own and simply said, “Salecumi.”

“I didn’t feel it was my place to ask,” Mae replied, her thumb absentmindedly tracing the warmth of his skin. She had seen scars like his before, finding them intriguing, especially since she bore a similar mark herself. However, it wasn’t something she would boast about, which is why she kept kicking herself for revealing it to him within an hour of their meeting.

“I’m not ashamed of it, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Rex said.

“I wasn’t suggesting that. I just didn’t want to invade what might be personal for you.”

“You haven’t. In fact, I’m quite proud of that one, in some ways,” he admitted.

“Proud?” 

“Yes. It’s the closest call I’ve ever had. It shakes a man to face death so closely. I deal with the reality of it nearly every day, but for reasons I can’t quite explain, I had convinced myself it was distant. That shot reminded me just how lucky I am. It also introduced me to a fellow clone—a deserter named Cut, who had a family of his own. Back then, I thought so little of those who turned their backs on the Republic, but he taught me that where you place your loyalty defines you. I like to think I’ve come a long way since then. It’s one of the main reasons I fight—so that my brothers have the chance to find what he did, to discover love or peace if they desire it.” His heart pounded in his chest as he shared these thoughts, feelings he usually kept buried deep. Admitting them felt like a release.

“And what about you?” she asked, finally looking up at him.

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you deserve that too? To know peace? To be loved? To have a family if you choose?” Her voice was so tender and soft that he wanted to say yes, to admit that he had thought about it, that a part of him buried deep inside longed for it—and maybe she could be that for him. But doubt and guilt filled his mind, and he replied, “It doesn’t feel right for me to be happy until we’re all free to forge our own paths…”

Rex watched her as she contemplated his words, her lips parting occasionally as if she were about to speak, only to hesitate again, unsure of what to say. He braced himself for an argument, expecting her to dismiss his feelings as nonsense—just as Echo had when he broached the subject with him. Just as he was about to reassure her it was fine, she finally spoke. “If you decide that you deserve to be happy, I promise she’ll be a very lucky woman, Rex.”

“I don’t—”

“How could anyone help but love such a selfless man?” 

Rex had faced countless extraordinary moments over the years—wild missions with Jedi, encounters with eccentric locals on remote planets, the mischief the 501st often found themselves in, and witnessing every sin imaginable under the suns. Yet here he was, rendered speechless in the quiet of night by a beautiful redhead. Her hand trailed from the center of his chest until it hovered over his heart, quickening its pace. “Thank the maker that shot didn’t go through this big heart of yours,” she whispered, a sweet smile lighting her face. He nearly dropped her from his lap, momentarily forgetting how or when she had settled there.

The silence stretched between them, prompting Mae to slide off his lap without warning. Rex only realized time had passed when he glanced up to find her on her hands and knees, quietly gathering the hair trimmings into a neat pile. “I can clean this up,” he said after a moment. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave the conversation unresolved, but he genuinely didn’t know how to respond. 

He felt uncertain, unsure of how her comment had shifted his convictions, and he hadn’t had time to process the weight of her words. He had slipped into a state of shock, and by the time he was ready to emerge from it, Mae had moved on, as if to mask her own hurt by being productive. Rex didn’t want her to misinterpret his silence as rejection, but he lacked the words to reassure her, feeling lost in the moment. He was also distracted by the sight of her bent over, focused on her task.

“It’s okay, I don’t—”

“Hey—”

“I almost have it—”

“Mae—”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself—”

“Look at me—” At his insistence, she finally paused, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself as she shifted her weight to her heels, balancing there for a moment. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted, using his good hand to gesture between them.

“This?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion as she tucked her legs beneath her. Rex leaned back slightly, sensing her body language opening up, inviting him to clarify.

“I told you, I have no experience with relationships—only, well… relations,” he confessed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief as the words left his lips. Admitting it felt like a weight lifting from his chest. If it had been anyone else in the galaxy, he might have worried they wouldn’t grasp what he was trying to say. But somehow, with her, it felt different; she nodded in understanding.

“So you want this to be—”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” he groaned, raking his hand down his face, his fingers catching on the stubble. What kind of woman would sit around waiting for a man to make up his mind, especially one as talented and wonderful as she was?

“Hey, it’s not life or death, you know?” she replied, echoing his earlier words with a half-smile that was more forced than genuine, trying to coax him out of the metaphorical shell he’d retreated into.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean this—whatever it is—doesn’t matter to me. It really does. I don’t want you to think my hesitation means I don’t care,” he admitted. Mae sat quietly for a moment, absorbing his words. Eventually, she pushed herself off the ground, brushing the small hairs off her clothes before extending a hand toward him. 

Realizing she was encouraging him to stand, he took her hand as he rose to his feet, releasing it once he was upright. She stepped closer, her hand sliding up the length of his arm until it settled on his bicep, and he fell silent, caught in the moment.

“How about you take some time to think it over, and when you figure out where you stand, let me know?” she offered sweetly. Rex couldn’t quite fathom why the Maker continued to bless him so abundantly. He didn’t feel special enough to deserve someone as gentle and understanding as her, especially considering the confusion he brought into her life.

“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” he sighed, a lopsided grin breaking across his face. The tension in the room dissipated with her kind suggestion.

“Oh, I know,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

“And so incredibly humble,” he scoffed, his hand instinctively finding hers, resting on his arm, squeezing gently in gratitude for her unwavering support.

“Are you sure you don’t want some help cleaning this up?”

“I think I can manage. You really should get some sleep. Thanks for the help. I’m starting to feel like myself again,” he said.

“My pleasure,” she smiled, bowing her head briefly before looking back up at him. “Well, you know where to find me if you need anything. Goodnight, Rex.” 

With that, she pushed herself up and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek. He inhaled sharply at the contact, eyes closing as he felt the warmth of her breath linger before she pulled away.

“I’m still not sure about it,” she hummed, glancing playfully to the side.

“About what?” he asked, curious.

“The beard,” she replied with a teasing smile before stepping back and gently closing the door behind her, leaving him in silence. Rex found himself staring at the closed refresher door long after she had gone, uncertain of how to process her comment. His hand instinctively reached for his jaw again, feeling the slight prick of stubble against his fingertips. 

Bending over the sink, he examined her handiwork in the mirror. He didn’t notice any glaring mistakes; the blond hair had been cut uniformly short. Still, the contrast of his usual hairstyle with the new facial hair was striking. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—part of him liked it, finding it gave him a more mature look. Having started growing facial hair at a young age, he’d always kept it shaved. But as he got older, the change felt refreshing, even if it hadn’t been a conscious choice.  The fact that a beautiful doctor seemed to have an attraction to it made him more inclined to consider keeping it. After all, change could sometimes be a good thing.

Looking down, he noticed that most of the mess had already been pushed into a small pile, and it only took a few moments to tidy up. Even though it was late, he still craved the chance to rinse off. Those pesky hairs always left him feeling itchy, no matter what he did. Before long, he found himself standing under the warm stream of water, sighing as the comforting droplets cascaded over his head. Yet, the soothing sensation did little to ease the swarm of thoughts racing through his mind about the events that had just unfolded.

The memory of her gentle touch still lingered on his skin, igniting a warmth that both thrilled and confused him. He hadn’t known her long—not really—and spent even less time together in person. Yet, there was something special about the unlikely friendship they had forged. At least, that’s what he considered it. Men could think their female friends were attractive, right? That was normal. One could acknowledge someone’s beauty without wanting to pursue anything further. But that reasoning didn’t quite explain the way he had felt at the wedding, or the moments that followed…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He’d only turned away for a moment when Hunter snagged him for a quick chuckle, teasing about a “pretty doctor wanting to get some” while he grabbed another beer. For once, Rex had to admit he was feeling the effects of the alcohol. He rarely allowed himself to indulge like this; in his line of work, he could never fully trust his surroundings. Pabu was a rare sanctuary, and even then, he typically capped himself at one or two drinks. But tonight was different. Echo had shouted at him to “lighten up,” and he found himself actually socializing, drinking more than usual, and even dancing.

It was easy to get swept up in the joy of the newlyweds. Their love was so infectious that, during the ceremony, his gaze had wandered to the woman stationed across from him. He had become accustomed to picturing Mae as just a name on a screen or a disheveled figure after a long shift. But seeing her dressed up in that skin-tight dress reminded him of just how stunning she truly was. Not that her everyday appearance wasn’t captivating, but there was something enticing about witnessing a familiar face transformed. The way the fabric hugged her curves was mesmerizing, accentuating her swaying hips and showcasing her long, muscular legs—a delightful feature, given her petite stature.

Echo and Aiko had already departed, leaving the remaining adults to revel in their own shenanigans. Tech was engrossed with his wife, while Wrecker busily passed out glasses filled with his latest concoction to anyone whose drink was nearing empty. The others engaged in lighthearted fun, the air buzzing with laughter and camaraderie. Rex had stepped away from the main group, which still swayed to the music near the edge of the dance floor, where AZI continued to pump out tunes from his speakers.

But when Rex turned back, he was met with loud cheers and laughter, his curiosity piqued. He and Hunter moved closer, trying to decipher the commotion. To his surprise, there was Mae, the last person he’d have expected to see at the center of it all, atop a table. She had spent the day ensuring their friends were happy, yet now, it seemed she hadn’t strayed far from her drink. He noticed how her weight against him had grown heavier as they danced, a sensation he found surprisingly enjoyable. Now, watching her sway those mesmerizing hips, he realized she was well into her cups, the group cheering her on as she put on a show.

As Rex pushed through the crowd to get a better view, the scene unfolded before him. It appeared that a little well-intentioned letting loose had been encouraged a bit too enthusiastically by some of the others. Crosshair's snicker broke through the noise: “Didn’t know Stitches had it in her…”

Rex had never been fond of Crosshair and often did his best to overlook the way the sniper rubbed him the wrong way. Knowing that Crosshair shared a closer friendship with Mae only added to his irritation. It was easier to tolerate the sniper's presence when he witnessed Mae address Crosshair's brashness head-on, matching him with equal snark. But hearing that Crosshair had encouraged Wrecker to overpour for the smaller woman sent Rex into a rage.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped, shoving them aside as he rushed to pull the still-dancing Mae off the tabletop before she could hurt herself. 

“Relax… she’s having fun,” Crosshair pointed out, though the group's attention began to shift from Mae's antics to their escalating voices.

“She’s going to get hurt, and it’ll be your fault for encouraging Wrecker to serve her like that,” Rex hissed.

“She’s an adult. And from what I’ve seen, she has an unusually high alcohol tolerance. Stitches could’ve said she’d had enough at any time,” Crosshair scoffed, but Rex decided to prioritize getting Mae down from the table over engaging with him.

“Mae, please get down,” he called up, reaching a hand toward her as she turned to see him standing below with the others. Her eyes widened in confusion, and after a moment, she asked, her voice rising above the crowd, “You don’t like my dancing…? I thought you—”

“That’s not—” Rex glanced away, his cheeks flushing under the gaze of their friends. He gestured again for her to come down. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, doll.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching her process his words. Slowly, she lowered her hand into his.

Just when he thought she might be okay, she stumbled, losing her balance. Years of reflexes honed in battle kicked in, and he instinctively dropped her hand, reaching out as she tumbled into his waiting arms.

“Whoops,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to steady herself.

“Nice catch, Cap,” Hunter scoffed, as the spotlight finally shifted away from them. With Mae off the table and the argument with the sniper subsided, the atmosphere lightened. In the chaos of getting her down, Rex noticed that Crosshair had slipped away, along with a certain blue bridesmaid.

“I think it’s time I took her home,” he said, earning murmurs of agreement from the group.

“But I want to stay,” Mae whined.

“I don’t think that’s wise—”

“Please, Sexy—oh kriff, I meant Rexy! Ha, that’s funny, Sexy-Rexy…” Her words trailed off as she became lost in her own thoughts. Rex glanced around, noticing a few amused faces. Desperate to escape any further teasing, he stepped back with a curt nod. As he moved, Mae instinctively clung to him for support. He adjusted his grip, ensuring her journey down the hill would be as smooth as possible, not that she weighed much to begin with.

As silence settled between them, doubt crept in. Had he crossed a line? She was an adult, just as the brash sniper had pointed out. Mae was more than capable of making her own choices. Yet, when he glanced down, he found her gazing up at him, her eyes wide and trusting.

“Something wrong?” he asked, catching her staring. She giggled, shaking her head in response.

“Just admiring you,” she replied.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to see that you haven’t seen a thousand times before.” Rex wasn’t sure why he felt the need to downplay himself, even though his tone carried a hint of humor. At least the batchers had unique traits—Tech and Crosshair were lean, Wrecker was absolutely massive, and Hunter had facial features that set him apart, even without his tattoo. But Rex knew he blended in with the other clones, distinguished only by his hair—and even that felt trivial.

“Don’t say that!” she insisted, her voice a mix of urgency and softness.

“It’s the truth,” he replied.

“No, it’s not.”

“I think—”

“I’ve met lots of clones, but I’ve only met one Rex.” She nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. It was only then he noticed the warmth of her breath against his neck as she nuzzled closer. Confused by her words, he hesitated, unsure whether to probe further. Interrogating an intoxicated woman felt… inappropriate. Sure, she had shared her thoughts willingly and had been sending him subtle signals all night, but pushing for more didn’t feel right. Rex had had his fair share of drunken encounters in the past, but with Mae, he wasn’t sure that was what he truly wanted.

She was stunning—unbelievably so. In a way he’d never quite experienced before. Tonight marked one of the few times he’d seen her all dressed up, having grown accustomed to the sight of her in casual clothes, with messy hair and warm smiles that masked her tired eyes. Mae was a vision of soft beauty, the kind that made him want to share quiet moments in a sunlit kitchen over caf and gentle conversation. It wasn’t the fleeting beauty he’d known in his past, where lipstick-stained kisses were exchanged in hurried encounters against a refresher wall. No, this was the type of woman he’d want to cherish, to watch bloom slowly with every tender touch against her pale skin. 

Seeing her like this was complicating everything. It would be so easy to explore the physical connection between them. Her closeness throughout the evening had led to moments of his hands wandering as they danced, his inebriated state emboldening him to slip his fingers lower than he typically would. Not that she seemed to mind; he recalled how she pressed herself against him with every gentle touch. Mae was becoming a regular presence in his chaotic life, providing the comfort of physical closeness while allowing him to maintain the emotional distance he thought he wanted. Yet, even that didn’t feel quite right.

Startled by how abruptly their journey to her home had concluded, he found himself on her stoop, her head resting against his shoulder, blissfully content in his arms. She wasn’t asleep, but she radiated a sense of peace. His priority was to get her settled and slip away before he acted on any impulsive urges.

As he gently maneuvered her through doorways and furniture, he entered her bedroom for the first time. It was cozy, imbued with a feminine warmth that contrasted starkly with the cold durasteel walls of his bunk on the ship. The space felt alive, wrapped in a comforting energy that was almost like a warm hug. 

With little time to linger on the delicate lace curtains, Rex lowered her onto the bed, propping her up against the edge. But just as he tried to pull away, she tightened her grip around his shoulders. 

“Rex…” Her voice was a soft whine, reminiscent of a child’s plea.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern creeping into his tone.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. Rex tried to gently free himself from her hold, but to his surprise, despite her petite frame, she was stronger than she looked.

“I—what?” 

“I don’t want to be alone again…” Her pitiful plea nearly shattered his heart. In that moment, the silence of the house enveloped them, amplifying the absence of sound—no shuffling feet, no movement from the next room, not even the rustling of palm leaves outside. 

Realizing there was no way to shake Mae from this moment, he surrendered, lifting her just enough to settle into a seat, drawing her closer against him. His arms wrapped tightly around her small frame, pulling her in by the back. Warm hands slid gently along her exposed skin as he leaned his head against hers. “You aren’t alone,” he whispered into her hair, only for her to hiccup loudly, disrupting the heavy breaths she had been taking against him. Rex was struck by how, despite her distress, she hadn’t cried; only the ragged rhythm of her breathing betrayed her sadness.

“Aiko left, and you’re going to leave too. Everyone just... leaves or finds their happiness far away from me, and I’m just…”

“Just because things are changing doesn’t mean there aren’t people who care about you—”

“I am alone. Look around. You’ll wake up tomorrow and disappear for Maker knows how long. I’ll go back to work, just like always. Then I’ll come home to an empty house, all alone…”

“Mae—”

“And I’m so happy for them, I truly am. But I’m just so tired of being alone. You’ll go back to wherever you go when you’re not here, probably find some beautiful girl with kind eyes, and you’ll have what they all have, and I’ll just be…”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he urged, his voice low but firm.

“Why not?” she countered, a hint of defiance creeping into her tone as she pulled away slightly. Grateful that her spiraling thoughts had paused, he rubbed a hand over his jaw, struggling to find the right words.

“Because I can’t stand hearing you talk down to yourself,” he groaned, inhaling deeply. “You know I can’t stay. There are important things out there, and I just can’t—”

“I know. I just wish you didn’t have to,” she sighed, her gaze fixed on the floor. Rex noticed the way her shoulders slumped, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she worried the delicate skin.

“Me too,” he said softly, placing his palm over her clasped hands resting in her lap. They both understood why he had to leave; the unspoken weight of it hung in the air between them. “But I can stay tonight.”

“What?” she looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“I can stay out there, if you want.” He gestured toward the main room, recalling the times he’d crashed on the sofa. It seemed a better alternative than retreating to his bunk on the ship.

“Please. Can you stay here, next to me?” She pointed to the space beside her. The bed was larger than he was accustomed to, but lying down next to her felt like a risky idea. “I can take the floor,” he offered.

“The floor?” she asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“I don’t want to invade your space,” he replied.

“But—”

“If I sleep there, I won’t want to leave. I can’t—”

“Alright,” she said, a mix of firmness and sadness in her tone as she abruptly stood. “I want out of this.” She tugged at the hem of her gown, and Rex rose to his feet, suddenly aware of how her words stirred an unexpected warmth in his neck and ears. The thought of sharing a room with her, especially when she was still quite tipsy, made him feel more flustered than he wanted to admit.

“Right, I’ll handle this wookiee suit myself—”

“Could you help with the zipper?” she asked innocently, her soft hands brushing her red curls out of the way. The suggestion created an undeniable tightness in his trousers, and while he knew that wasn’t her intention, his body had other ideas. Closing his mouth to suppress the innuendo threatening to escape, he stepped closer and reached for the zipper without a word. 

Carefully, he dragged the clasp down until he hovered over her lower back. He expected her to keep the fabric clutched around herself, but when the dress slipped to the floor, he quickly averted his gaze. His feet felt as heavy as if they were stuck in sand, and despite wanting to retreat to the main room, he found himself frozen behind the now-nude woman. It dawned on him that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments beneath the fitted dress.

“I’ll be back,” he stammered, nearly sprinting from the room to give her some privacy. There was no way she’d feel comfortable being so exposed around him if she were sober, and to stare felt completely inappropriate—he was a gentleman, after all.

He swiftly removed his loosened tie and tossed it across the main living space, then made his way toward the closet. Echo had encouraged him to leave some of his clothes behind since his first visit, so he knew he could find a simple pair of athletic pants and a shirt mixed in at the bottom. Just as he bent down to grab his small bag, he heard a loud thud. 

With quick reflexes, he snatched the bag and bolted back toward the door. He flung it open to find Mae, in her clumsy, drunken state, having slipped as she attempted to dress herself.

“Oops,” she giggled, and Rex felt a wave of relief wash over him—she hadn’t hurt herself. Once again, he averted his gaze from her bare skin. “Help,” she called, and his attention snapped back to her seated form. Thankfully, her hands had instinctively covered her chest as he stepped closer.

His eyes landed on the shirt she had been trying to put on, only to realize it was one of his. He’d been missing that dark blue shirt for a few rotations now, not connecting the dots that he’d last seen the article on Pabu. Shoving aside any thoughts about her using one of his shirts to sleep in, he gently guided her arms into the sleeves before sliding it down her body.

“This is familiar…” he teased, noting the confusion in her eyes as she blinked up at him before it dawned on her what he meant.

“You left it behind, and I washed it. It got mixed in with my clothes, but then I realized how comfortable it is…” she stammered, flustered.

“It’s okay. You can keep it,” he replied, watching as her features softened for a moment before panic set in.

“I couldn’t! You don’t have much as it is—”

“Please,” he urged, reaching out to help her up from the floor.

“But—”

“Blue looks good on you. Just keep it,” he said, releasing her hand as he bent down to grab his bag, pulling out clothes to change into without further comment. 

As he slipped on a fresh shirt, he paused when he heard her shuffling toward the refresher. The space she’d occupied was now empty. She emerged shortly after, gesturing for him to go in after her. He nodded in understanding and finished his usual nighttime routine, splashing water on his face in her sink to cool his overheated skin.

When he emerged, Rex was surprised to see that Mae had transformed the floor into a cozy refuge, layering a sleeping bag with a pile of couch cushions and blankets for his comfort. She had already nestled into her own bed, and he could feel her blue eyes on him, watching his every move. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, kneeling beside her.

“No. But it will be. Thanks for staying with me and making sure I got home okay.” Her playful tone had faded, replaced by a formality he wasn’t accustomed to. It seemed the weight of reality had settled in as she curled up on her side, knees drawn to her chest. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup, she bit her lip for a moment before looking up at him and whispering, “You’re a good man, Rex.” With that, she reached over and switched off the light.

Unsure how to respond, he lay down on the makeshift bed she’d created. Soon, he heard the soft, rhythmic breaths that signaled she had fallen asleep, her lips gently parted. Rex rolled over, hoping to find rest himself, but unlike Mae, sleep eluded him. A growing urge tugged at him—he longed to abandon his spot on the floor and slide into bed beside her, to hold her close and whisper that he wouldn’t leave. It would be so easy, really. 

But he fought against that impulse, relying on the discipline that had kept him alive through so much. As the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, careful not to wake her, before slipping out of the room.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That morning was part of the reason Rex had fought so hard against Echo's insistence on taking him to Pabu after he was shot. Deep down, he knew how easy it would be to surrender to a place he believed he shouldn’t go. It didn’t feel fair to Mae, either. She never let him see her disappointment when he left that morning, nor did she ever punish him for it. Yet, each day spent resting in her home made him long to stay forever. It felt as if he were transforming from a wild creature into a domesticated pet, and he found himself anxious about the implications of the delicate dance they had been doing around each other. What would happen if he truly gave in? How much would it jeopardize his mission? What if he were killed—what would become of her?

But those days of shared space, of a domestic bliss he never thought possible as a soldier, had softened him. Mae’s care became the love and acceptance he craved, her gentle touches and soft words transforming him into the “lothcat purring” she had teased him about just moments ago while cutting his hair. As he ran his palms over his freshly trimmed hair, he realized he had inadvertently let slip that he enjoyed her help enough to want it again. Admitting to her that he was unsure about how it could work, yet mentally wanting to explore it, felt monumental—a significant step forward.

Surely it was possible. General Skywalker had maintained a private marriage with the senator from Naboo before everything changed. He knew that Fox had a close bond with Chuchi, and Echo still traveled the galaxy with him despite finding Aiko. There had to be a reason why several of his brothers were willing to risk it all for someone special. Perhaps it was simply a matter of finding someone who made you question the limits of possibility. Maybe that was how you knew.

Rex was a soldier; war was all he had ever known, and he had taken pride in finding a noble purpose even after it. But relationships, families, and the idea of settling down were uncharted territory for him.

Cut hadn’t been wrong in holding up that proverbial mirror, pushing Rex to confront the truth he’d been avoiding: all clones thought about it. Maybe it was something inherited from Jango, or simply the biological yearning of being human, but they all craved intimacy, love, a family, and a home. And like Mae, Rex found himself increasingly weary as he watched their mutual friends discover these connections—sometimes in the most unexpected places, sometimes right where they had always been. 

Each night after the wedding, he lay in his bunk, haunted by memories of laughter as they watched the sunset over Pabu. It felt right. It felt like home. It felt like pure light. He had only experienced that feeling once before—when Ahsoka had saved his life, channeling the Force through him. Though his memories were hazy, he remembered the warmth that had pulled him to safety. Holding such a small but spirited woman in his arms was the closest he had come since then to feeling that unaltered warmth.

As he brought the bar of soap over his skin, he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He felt warmth in the mornings as he lifted caf mugs to his lips. He felt it in lighthearted conversations over dinner, in wet curls brushing against his arms as they watched holofilms together. He felt it in the cold ocean water lapping at his toes while he kept an eye on her paddling out safely. He felt it in those pretty blue eyes looking up at him, framed by his shirt as she prepared for bed—making him realize that 501 blue looked far better against a backdrop of freckles and flushed skin than it ever did on him. It was in delicate fingertips tracing the scar that had nearly cost him his life, a silent thankfulness that he had survived.

It was in dreams of watching the lines around her eyes deepen over the years, in the longing to see red hair turn to white. It was the desire to feel the swell of a belly, to experience those first flutters of life. It was bedtime stories about his heroic deeds during the war, and wondering whether he would spend a lifetime gazing into soft brown or blue eyes. It was holding the one he loved close every night and never letting go. 

That warmth was just down the hall, waiting for him to accept it and let it flow through him.

Rex fumbled to turn off the water, snatching a towel from the rack and drying himself with such urgency that his skin felt raw. He quickly pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and raced through the room, ignited by a sudden realization: Mae was everything he wanted. He needed to make that known before his courage wavered. With little thought, he flung open the door and rushed to her bedroom, his good hand forming a fist as he pounded on it like a madman.

When she opened the door, confusion flickered in her wide eyes, and he suddenly remembered he was only wearing his briefs.

His gaze roamed over her, taking in the sight of her damp hair and the silken slip clinging to her frame, fresh from the shower. The door concealed much of her body, but he couldn't miss the way her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing the panic in his distant expression.

For a fleeting moment, he considered whether storming to her door had been the wisest choice, but that thought quickly evaporated as he tried to express the torrent of emotions swirling within him. The profound feelings he grappled with were difficult to articulate, especially under the scrutiny of her beautiful blue eyes. 

As she pushed the door wider, stepping out from behind the barrier, worry creased her features. It was then that Rex felt a primal urge overpower his hesitation, driving him to make his feelings known through action.

With incredible speed, his good arm snatched her waist, collecting the doctor into his arms. Her eyes only widening at the action but before she could further question his strange behavior, the woman soon found his lips smothering her own in a passionate embrace. It was the kind of kiss that screamed, “To hell with the consequences.” The kind of kiss little girls dream about, the one a hero claims at the end of a fairytale from the maiden he’s saved. But in the wake of the shock, she had no time to react before he pulled away, a hint of regret flickering across his features.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Do that again,” she commanded, her gaze locked on his lips as she tilted her head toward him. Her hands glided up and around the back of his neck, reclaiming the connection he'd nearly lost in his anxiety. For Rex, her words were electrifying. With renewed confidence, he leaned in, surrendering to her embrace once more, emboldened by her invitation.

Rex soon discovered how much more incredible a kiss shared with someone you admired could be. Those plush and inviting lips of hers were much more enjoyable when he felt them pressed against his own, especially when she was sliding her slender fingers up and down the back of his neck and over his hair. Her body pressing into his own as he pulled her closer the best he could, his back leaning into the door frame for support as the quest to get as tightly wound together began. Just before things went further and he could swipe a testing tongue across her lips for entrance she pulled back slightly, gazing up at him through thick lashes with something heavy weighing on her mind. 

“What is it?” he asked, curious about why she had pulled back from their embrace. His tanned fingers contrasted sharply against her porcelain skin as he gently tucked her damp hair behind her ear. 

“Are you sure about this?” she replied. He understood her hesitation, especially considering how uncertain he had been just moments earlier. What she didn’t realize was that the only shift had been within himself—he was finally opening up to the idea he had always known deep down: he wanted to be happy. His commitment to his brothers shouldn’t hinder his own desires. For the first time, he was allowing himself to be selfish, ready to accept the affection she seemed eager to offer.

Rex was a soldier—a damn good one—but matters of the heart had never come easily to him. In that moment, he did what felt right. He wrapped his hand gently around the back of her neck, tilting her head slightly until their foreheads touched. Their breaths mingled, and he closed his eyes. Earlier, when he had spoken of feeling exposed, he hadn’t realized there was a deeper level of vulnerability. Now, holding her in his arms, even with his injury, he discovered that vulnerability could deepen further. And for the first time with her, all his reservations faded away.

“I’m sure I want to try. I’m sure of how I feel about you. As for the rest…” he trailed off, uncertain of how to express his thoughts. Fortunately, she seemed to sense where he was headed.

“We can figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” he confirmed, his gaze easily finding hers in their close proximity. A smile spread across his lips as she mirrored his expression.

“I have to admit, I like the sound of that…” Mae replied, her tone light and playful. He felt a flutter at how dreamy her words sounded.

“I couldn’t agree more, Doll,” Rex said, a laugh escaping him before he could hold it back. At that, she smiled, leaning back into him and brushing her lips against his before pulling away with an unexpected innocence.  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now,” he hummed out, not realizing he’d spoken until she chuckled and asked, “since when?”

After a quick moment of reflection he answered. “Since that night on the beach,” Rex told her. The memory of the way her eyes had grown wide at the way he’d kissed her cheek lingering in his mind.

“Wait-“ she paused, eyes narrowing for a moment before she scoffed, “you are telling me we could’ve been doing this since the beach?! Rex that was so long ago. And you made me wait this long-“

The soldier couldn’t help but laugh at her faux frustration that he’d been holding out on his affections till now. Part of him was embarrassed he waited so long as well, but the other half knew that in the space between something more stable has grown. A level of trust that might not have had he made the jump that night. Regardless, her mock indignation made him smile. ”we could argue over that or…” he leaned in only for her to lean back from his advance. The sight was so enticing that he couldn’t resist chasing after her. “Get back here, I’m not finished yet,” he teased.

With a glimmer of mischief in her blue eyes, she leaned in closer. “Come and get me, Captain…” she teased, leaning back and gesturing toward the open door with a raised brow. 

Rex shot her a playful look, prompting her to clarify. “Cool it, scoundrel. I just wanted to be more comfortable kissing you…” Mae scoffed at his insinuation, but her gaze held a promise—the one that said, “I’m yours as long as you want me.” 

He could definitely work with that. And as for the rest, just like she said: they’d figure it out. 

Together.