“No I’m not,” she said, drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘no’ so that it sounded like ‘good boy’ in binary. Chopper was doing a great job at holding still for this. And, okay, maybe she did widen her eyes, raise her eyebrows and over-exaggerate the mouth movement.

“You make weird faces, honey,” Kanan said from where he sat opposite her. His meal sat largely untouched in front of him as most of his attention was on the datapad he had balanced on the corner of the table.

She knew he was cramming as much information on local laws and regulations into his brain as he could, and that it was so he could better infiltrate the governor’s office to get close enough to steal the intel they were after, but she couldn’t help but be irritated that he was doing it while they were eating dinner.

She sighed at him. “Do you have to read at the table?”

He didn’t look up. “Yeah… There’s a big debate on farming taxes tomorrow, and if I can get onto the select committee I’ll have two days when I’ll be right across the hall from his office.”

That did sound like a promising lead; maybe she could forgive him.

She caught sight of Ezra, who had turned back to his dinner but was attacking the steak on his plate much like a nexu might: with his teeth, instead of cutlery.

“Ezra, use your knife and not your teeth! Zeb, could you help him cut his steak?” 

Ezra reluctantly let the steak drop back to his plate so that Zeb could lean over and begin to saw at it with his knife. Hera tried not to feel guilty; she’d been the one to buy their supplies and she’d seen the face Kanan had pulled when he’d found the meat she’d chosen for his steak dinner. It wasn’t her fault her only role on this mission was essentially housekeeping – she’d gladly let Kanan do all of that if he wasn’t spending each day trying to get deeper into the levels of bureaucracy at the target’s office. 

Unfortunately, as Rebel Command had explained but Hera understood all too well, it would only raise suspicions if they managed to get aliens working at an Imperial government office. Which was why Hera’s role was to stay at home and monitor all incoming and outgoing communications from the target’s house, and Zeb was covering the last remaining place the governor frequented: the gym.

Ezra and Sabine were trying a more unconventional route. They’d been enrolled at the same school as the governor’s son, and their task was to befriend him to enter the house and plant surveillance devices. While they were taking well to the espionage element of their roles, Ezra in particular was struggling with something he had very little experience in: attending school. Which reminded her–

“Ezra, do you have something you want to tell Kanan about school?”

The boy’s face took on a panicked expression. “Uh, sure, I saw a tooka! Did you know they’re different to loth-cats because–”

Hera rolled her eyes and cut him off mid-sentence. “Ezra got sent to the office again.”

“Good, good,” Kanan said absently, his eyes still on the screen.

“No, Kanan, that’s bad,” Hera told him gently.

He finally looked up from the datapad. “What?”

“Ezra got sent to the office again,” she repeated.

“What!” He looked between her and his padawan. “What for?”

“Nothing!” Ezra exclaimed, trying to look innocent.

“He put a tack on the teacher’s chair,” Hera told Kanan. “During class.”

“Nobody saw anything, and you could barely even see it on the tape,” Ezra mumbled.

“Wait, they caught you on tape and you still got away with it?” Zeb, who had been listening in, was grinning widely as he continued to hack at Ezra’s steak. 

Even Kanan looked thoughtful. “Your control must be getting really good if no-one noticed, how smoothly did you get it there?”

Hera narrowed her eyes at both of them. “We are not encouraging this.”

“I’m not encouraging, I’m just asking!” Zeb protested, his hands moving faster as his voice rose. He turned his head towards Ezra and dropped his voice conspiratorially. “So, how smooth was it?”

“Zeb!”

Hera’s warning came too late; there was a loud cracking noise and everyone fell silent to stare at Ezra’s plate. Zeb had sawed right through the steak and split the porcelain beneath it clean in two. He’d been too distracted by the conversation to temper his strength.

Maybe sending Zeb to the gym every day hadn’t been such a smart move. The Lasat hardly needed more strength.

“Great,” Zeb muttered, glaring at the shards of pottery. “First the bike, now this.”

Hera blinked. “What happened to the bike?”

Zeb’s scowl deepened. It was clear he didn’t want to answer the question. 

“Here.” He swapped his intact plate with Ezra’s and picked up the pieces of broken one, which thankfully were still whole enough to continue holding the remains of Ezra’s dinner. “I’ll get myself a new plate.”

The silence lingered as he stood and left the table, retreating to the kitchen.

“So, how about you, Sabine,” Hera said brightly. “How was school?”

She shrugged. “Nothing new.”

“You’ve hardly touched your food.” Hera frowned with concern.

Sabine merely poked at her plate with her fork. “I’m not hungry for nunaloaf.”

“I’m sure Kanan could cook you up something else – a steak, some flatcakes, what are you hungry for?”

Sabine shook her head and Hera gave up, turning back to Chopper. At least she’d broken the tension left behind by Zeb’s accident. As she turned away from the table she didn’t hear the quiet words Ezra said next.

“Ketsu Onyo,” he teased Sabine in a mocking, singsong tone.

Sabine glared at him. “Shut up,” she hissed.

“Well you are.”

“Shut up you little nerf!” Sabine’s eyes flicked to Hera, her irritation having made her raise her voice.

Ezra appealed to their captain. “She is!”

Hera didn’t look up from Chopper. “Do not shout at the table.”

“Kids, listen to your captain.” Kanan’s warning tone was enough to get Sabine to stand down, but Ezra clearly didn’t feel he was done yet.

“She’d eat it if we were having Ketsu-loaf,” he murmured.

“That’s it!”

Sabine slammed her hands against the table and stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. She threw her fork with deadly precision at Ezra’s head and closely followed it with a spare detonator from her pocket.

He reacted to both missiles with Force-aided instincts, stumbling over his chair but ducking neatly out of the way. The distraction meant he didn’t see Sabine rush him until she planted her hands on his chest and shoved him to the floor. 

Chopper whooped with approval while Hera shouted for them to stop, trying to be heard over their fighting. Ezra retaliated by swinging a fist at Sabine, which she ducked and followed up with a quick grab for the gauntlet which was hooked to her belt. She tugged it on and turned back to face him.

“Hey, no armour!” he complained.

She activated her energy shield. “You started it.”

Ezra grimaced and summoned his lightsaber, thumbing the switch that activated the blade in practise mode.

“That’s enough!”

Kanan’s voice cut through the kids’ argument at the same time as both of them felt themselves suddenly immobilised and lifted a few feet into the air. Kanan had stood from the table and now held both hands out, one extended towards Ezra and the other to Sabine, as he used the Force to hold them back from each other. 

Hera was also standing, her vibrospanner still in her hand.

“Everybody stand down,” she ordered.

Kanan looked to Sabine and saw her nod, but before he could get the same confirmation from Ezra, the doorbell rang.

As if a switch had been flicked, the four of them immediately reset their positions. Kanan dropped the kids (gently) to the floor, Ezra’s lightsaber disappeared, Sabine’s gauntlet returned to her belt, and the four of them returned to their seats around the table as if nothing had happened.

Hera let out a breath and rose from her seat, feeling everyone’s eyes on her back as she did her best to project an air of calm. Trying to appear as though she had just got up from the middle of her meal, and not mediating a fight between her crewmembers, she opened the door.

“Kori!” she exclaimed upon seeing the governor’s teenage son on their front step. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Hi, Mrs Sumar,” he said politely. She still wasn’t used to the cover name they were using, as both Syndulla and Jarrus were far too well-known to the Empire. “Are Ezra and Sabine in?”

“They’re just finishing their dinner.”

“We’re done!” they both chorused from behind her.

“Do you have that new SpaceStation game you were talking about at school?” Ezra asked excitedly.

“Yeah, Dad got it for me! Want to come over and play it?”

“You bet we do!” Sabine enthused.

Hera stood aside so the kids could leave, feeling pleased that they were also making progress with the mission. She wouldn’t forget about the dinner incident, though – the retribution for that would be waiting for them when they returned.

Until then, she had a dinner table to clear and a droid to finish updating. Why Rebel Command couldn’t have found them a house with a dishwasher, she didn’t know.

“Would you help me clean up, love?”

Kanan immediately looked up from his datapad, which he’d returned to as soon as peace had been restored. He gave her a soft smile and she watched him turn the screen off completely before starting to stack the mostly-empty dishes.

They cleared the table in a comfortable silence. Hera didn’t speak until Kanan was stood before a sink full of soapy water and had a plate and a sponge in his hand, and she stood next to him with a tea towel.

“Thanks for intervening earlier, with the kids,” she said finally.

“They’re as much my responsibility as yours,” he replied gently. “More, even, since I’m Ezra’s Master.”

She twisted a corner of the tea towel in her hands. “I worry that the stress of this mission is having an effect on them.” 

“Tonight did get pretty out of hand.”

“And Ezra keeps acting out at school. I know it’s his first time in formal education and being around so many other kids since his parents died, but I don’t remember him getting in this much trouble when he infiltrated the Imperial Academy.”

“Maybe it’s because none of the staff at his school carry Stormtrooper-issue blasters,” Kanan suggested light-heartedly,

Hera huffed out a laugh. “You have a point there, dear. But the teasing, the pranks… He must be learning all this from his classmates. Is it a good influence? I know most kids go through the school system and make it out okay, but things felt better before, when he was just with the crew all the time.”

Kanan picked up the frying pan he’d cooked the steaks in and dunked it into the soapy water. “I can’t speak to what the rest of the galaxy experienced, but up until I was about his age, I knew a lot of kids like that. And we had Jedi Masters watching our every move! But they grow out of it. You just have to wait – and the same applies here. We’re all close to the target now; it’s only a matter of time before one of us gets the data we need, and then we’re out of here. Back to the Ghost, back to the skies, back to regular jobs.”

He shut off the running water he was rinsing the pan in and turned to look at her with a softness in his eyes that reassured her just as much as his words.

Hera nodded, thoughtful. “You’re right, we just need to be patient. Still, do you think you could give Ezra an extra lesson or two in discipline over the next few days?”

He chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, love.”

She reached for the next plate on the draining board, and as she did Kanan leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. It was a reminder that even in the most foreign of undercover missions like this, there was one thing that never wavered.

The Owl House

the lightless places inside - Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Series (Longfic), Hunter-centric, Raine-centric, Nonlinear Narrative, Canon Divergence, Cult Recovery, Ace Hunter This one is my babygirl <3 Basically, Belos’s whole “worship the Titan and follow me xoxo” thing never got a whole lot of traction across the Isles, and so at the time this starts, the Emperor’s Coven is just a small cult based on the Tail. Hunter has been raised as the Golden Guard and the Titan’s Hand, and is well aware that he’s a grimwalker. This AU starts a month or two after the coven was captured, with Belos imprisoned and Hunter being sent to Eda’s house to help adapt to normal life after his first placement doesn’t work out. Very heavy focus on religious trauma and guilt, lot of survivor’s guilt stuff too; this fic is very much about healing and how that’s not a linear process and how it can often suck. Plenty of Steve in this one too because his and Hunter’s friendship is everything to me <3 Oh also Hunter’s missing an eye in this.

don’t give my god rubies - Mature, Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings, Modern AU, Hunter-centric, Pittwins, Road Trip, Ace Hunter, Religious trauma out the wazoo My very self-indulgent Mormon!Hunter-raised-in-the-Deep-South AU. Very much a nod to queer youth who grew up in the Southeast US, particularly those who grew up in very conservative and very religious environments—very much the story I would’ve wanted to read as a kid. Pretty much all of my works hc Hunter as trans, but it’s very much a core theme of this one as Hunter is coming to terms with his identity outside of Philip’s scheme of influence. Also Philip is running for Sheriff (again), which...yeah. Hunter has A Time in this one !

take the dreams down and stick them in storage - Teen, No Archive Warnings Apply, Multi-chapter, Hunter-centric, Luz-centric, Pittwins, Canon Divergence AKA the one where Belos doesn’t possess Hunter and the Hexsquad doesn’t find the rebus, so everyone ends up stuck in the Human Realm. Hunter is...surprisingly okay with this. Everyone else is...less okay. It’s not a fun time.

and all turns to silver glass - Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Longfic, Hunter-centric, Alternating POVs, Medieval Fantasy, Hunter & Amity Besties Agenda, Aroace Hunter, Lumity, On Hold This one’s going to be LONG, just warning y’all in advance. The gist of the plot is that Hunter, as Belos’s best knight, is well-aware there’s a fair chance he’ll never be more than the emperor’s hound, and he’s more than okay with that, even if his best friend, a necromancer prodigy by the name of Amity Blight, and the renegade seer he was sent to bring in for questioning recently try to convince him otherwise. But something is brewing beneath the city as his uncle’s heralded Day of Unity draws nearer, and Hunter will have to figure out where his priorities really lie before it’s too late.

the sound of the demon calling you home - Teen, Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Longfic, Hunter-centric, Hunter has Religious OCD, On Hold In essence, this fic is basically Caleb stuck in Hunter’s mind and offering his commentary on various shit our bad but sad boy finds himself going through—except this commentary definitely impacts his actions and thus canon. Feat.: Hunter’s abject terror of Hooty, Belos being a bitch, Hunter having panic attacks, Caleb being a little bit of a dick before character growth, and more!

the devil’s after both of us - Teen, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Series, Hunter-centric, Raine-centric, Star Wars Universe, Droid!Flapjack In this one, Hunter’s served as the Grand Inquisitor over his emperor’s Inquisitorius for a while now, and he’s currently trying to track down a Jedi by the name of Eda Clawthorne. Meanwhile, Raine Whispers is trying to keep hold of what little remains of their identity after being forced into a new role as the Third Sister’s apprentice—a task that becomes increasingly more difficult as the Empire’s hold on the galaxy tightens to a chokehold.

slip away to stardust - WIP, Unpublished, Roleswap AU, Hunter goes to the Human Realm, Belos Finds Luz First, Hunter Gets a Hug for once Hunter succeeds in securing the Owl Lady’s portal—at least, he does until it opens and he ends up in the woods of a place called Connecticut and entrenched in the terrifying ordeal of being known via therapy. Luz, meanwhile, hopes her teacher will accept “getting stuck in a portal fantasy world and trying to help the human emperor also get home” as an excuse to turn her essay in late.

someone has to be the tomb-keeper - Teen, Series, Hunter-centric, Belos-centric, Sigilless!Hunter, Fuck ton of religious imagery Here, Belos didn’t brand Hunter with the coven sigil, as he believed Hunter would be of better use as an unwitting spy once his inevitable betrayal took place—and, of course, this saves the grimwalker most like Caleb from the fate of the other witches. This changes both everything, and nothing.

Star Wars

small birds where their hearts should be - Teen, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Longfic, Sabine Wren-centric, Leia Organa-centric, Ezra Bridger-centric, Dark, Emperor Vader, Sith Leia Organa, Sith Luke Skywalker Ezra is the last of the Jedi. Because of a series of mistakes on a recent extraction, he attracts the attention of the emperor’s daughter, who’s been told to find the last of the Jedi and bring them home if she wishes to regain her honor and standing in the imperial court. Sabine, meanwhile, is tired of the constant fleeing from the Empire and is ready to make a final stand—except she wasn’t expecting to find herself feeling anything but hatred for the Sith hunting her, Tristan, and Ezra down, much less pity.

the inversion of selves, the different skin - Teen, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Series, Werewolf AU, Star Wars Universe, Tristan Wren-centric, Sabine Wren-centric, Ghost Crew Sabine and Tristan Wren are me’gaan’ade, moonchosen, and can shift into the form of wolves. After escaping his capture by Gar Saxon, Tristan reunites with his sister and has to not only contend with his complex emotions regarding her and his trauma from time with Saxon, but also decide how much trust he’s willing to instill in Sabine’s new companions.

death, twice: first the body and then the heart - WIP, Unpublished, Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Trizra, Faerie AU, Ghost Crew, Dark, Ezra Stays Alive Wrong Ezra left for Faerie six years ago in order to find his mentor, Kanan. He’s returned now—though he’s done so empty-handed. He’s left contending with not only his own guilt over the failure and the disappointed expectations from Hera and Jacen, but also trying to mend his relationship with Tristan who, like everyone else, did his best to move on once it seemed certain Ezra wouldn’t be coming home. And even if he’s back physically, the Ezra who left isn’t the same who returned, not in the slightest.

a person-shaped emptiness - Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Trizra, Imperial AU, Inquisitor!Ezra, Dark, Slow Burn but not really Tristan and Ezra grew up attending the imperial academy together, bonding quickly—and maybe more than the average cadet—despite the Empire’s best wishes. One morning, Tristan wakes to find Ezra gone without a trace, and no one will even acknowledge his existence. Years later, Ezra slips back into Tristan’s quiet life as an ensign—and he refuses to acknowledge what happened, too.

No Need for Open Roads - Mature, Series, Western AU, Werewolf AU, Historical AU, Ghost Crew, Kanera, Co-written with @lessattitudemorealtitude Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren find a home in grizzled Pony Express stationmaster Kanan Jarrus, and all is well—until a war brings a halt to the mail and danger to their doorstep. Now, Kanan has to dredge up old memories and make unexpected allies if he wants to bring Ezra home alive.

The Sheridan Tapes

post tenebrus lux - Teen, No Archive Warnings Apply, TOH Universe, Sam Bailey-centric, Bill Tyler-centric, Ned Leroux-centric, Grimwalker!Sam Bailey, Basilisk!Ned Leroux, Human!Anna Sheridan Sam Bailey, fresh out of a job now that the emperor has decided he’s better off dead than serving as the Golden Guard, finds himself turning to the very witches he previously condemned in order to stay alive. Meanwhile, Bill Tyler, Captain of the God-king’s Coven, finds himself digging into secrets better left alone as someone who is very much Not Sam Bailey appears in the palace a week later claiming to be the Golden Guard.

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?" 

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!" 

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends.     From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one.  And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word. 

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked. 

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere. 

"HOW DARE YOU!"

 Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second. 

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming,  “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers. 

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from.  Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory. 

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

 There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing. 

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off. 

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate.  Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns. 

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others. 

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life.