#rexonia

It felt like an hour had come and gone since, yet her helmet's HUD had made it, if she had read the time correctly, at ten minutes. Half of that was her fixing the stabiliser over her sock and the way her foot sat in her boot. The other half of her past ten minutes was getting lost whilst going around in circles — and never the same ones.

“Lady Ylandra?”

She hummed, back sharply straightening at the voice of the clone, and it was only when she saw the orange visor that she relaxed. “You are allowed to say my name, Cody. Such a title is only used back home.”

“Sorry, Peonia. I…it feels strange calling you anything else.”

She showed a smile. “My cousin's the same — my aunt and uncle wanted her to be Ko'suum, but whoever wrote out the birth certificate put down my aunt's sleep deprived mispronunciation. She finds it weird when we say the name intended. We find it wrong, too. Gives me the weirds.”

“The weirds.”

“Yes?” A shrug. “You judging?”

“No, no.” The Marshal-Commander, for all of his better-at-lying-than-Rex talents, still wore amusement on his features clear as day that only reinforced that he was, in fact, even slightly judging her. “Just think Rex is gonna love hearing you use it. And I'm gonna enjoy it ending up in his vocabulary.”

Nia rolled her eyes with an affectionate shake of the head.

Brothers. Siblings. Family.

“I've watched you come around this platform at least five times. You okay?”

“Apart from being lost?” At Cody's nod, she moved her head in a so-so manner, side to side slowly with a considering gaze. “Compared to you lot and Ko, I'm perfect.”

“Without comparison?”

“Never gets any easier. Deliberately ignore the corridors with the dead. The thought none of them will ever have a proper burial, burial rites, protected sites to be buried in… most not ever having the chance to be a shiny it… it breaks my heart. My sister says that, in the force, you're all children. You, Rex, Wolffe, Ponds… you're ten year old children. Ace is closer to a teen,then those recruited after Geonosis? She says some are as young as seven. Some of those that died today were… were toddlers, babies, but looked like a child. You're, what, coming up eleven this year, right? When I was your age, my teachers were treating me like a fifteen year old and I'd come home to eat ice cream and jelly, or griffon shaped pasta, and I'd try to cheat a game of top trumps against my brother.”

“You… didn't have the childhood of a Mandalorian or a clone.”

“Maybe not, but even Mandalorian children are allowed to be children in their own ways. Your people never got a chance to get fed with 'here comes the fighter ship neeyowe' as a spoon or fork comes for you. You never get to have some cereal for breakfast and then bring it up on your handlers shirt.”

“...It sounds like experience?”

“Only memory of my mother I have is, unfortunately, connected to a dark pink polo with all the stains; my father tried to give it to me a month or two before the war started. Anyway,” Nia released a long sigh, “the point I'm trying to make is that I'm upset — deeply — despite knowing less than probably a hundredth thousandth of the men here, but my largest concern is with Rex.”

“Rex?”

Cody, at least, pretended to be surprised if his tone was anything to go by. She dared not look at him.

“Yes. I've not seen hide nor hair of him since he stepped off The Resolute, and I've not heard from him since he made contact to say the Seppies were retreating.”

“I think he jus’ … wants to be alone.”

“Doesn't mean he needs to be… it's a dangerous time to be alone in your thoughts.”

Cody leaned against a makeshift barricade. “Think he'll do something?”

“What?” Her eyes went wide for a second before deeply frowning, insulted that Cody thought she believed Rex would do something permanent like jump into only depths. “Don't be bloody ridiculous, of course not.” She huffed with a short, sharp puff of air from her nose. “I know him well enough to know he'll be blaming himself more than he should be. And I know grief like it's a friend - at some point, being alone becomes self punishment. At some point, 'I want to be alone' means 'I want company but I want silence, and I don't know how to ask for help'. Mostly it means 'people will consider me weak'. “

“Y'know,” Cody perched beside her, half on the corner “I'm sure he's fine. He's a big boy.”

“Men can not be fine, too. You're not fine. You're sluggish. Put on.”

“... I don't think he needs you to hold his hand.”

“I also don't have to be held in any capacity when I'm grieving, but I find it's a helpful addition. I don't need to have help to carry things around, but maby hands make light work.” She pinched her nose for a second. “Look, Cody, I know you're trying to protect his peace, but you know the culture your generation grew up in. Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want loneliness. Just quiet. Maybe he doesn't know what he wants.”

“You're stubborn, did you know?”

“I'm not stubborn - not really - just want to… periodically check in with Rex. Hreða knows he'd never ask for help.”

And Cody, as if satisfied she had passed some kind of test, finally relented. “If he's going to open up to anyone, it's gonna be you. I'll show you the way to his contemplation spot.”

“Contemplation spot?” She stood gingerly, yet sure from confidence in knowing how much weight her foot could bare for now, and followed Rex's ambling older sibling. “I guess for it to be his, he's been there a lot?”

“A story you'd be better asking him about.”

“Noted.”

-

It was the sunset, casting a rose-gold glow upon the Captain of the Five-Oh-First's Torrent Company, that made her forget, for a few moments, that there had been an invasion. That there was a war. It made her forget the body bags and droid parts scattered across the base. For those moments, it was just… him, resting his elbows on the balcony, forearms folded and fingers fiddling something he clearly treasured with his thumbs running across it.

Kamino's sun, for as rarely as it turned up, painted him in golden rays, edged with the rosey tone of the clouds, and the blue stripes felt discolored to a purple tone. His skin didn't force the light to bounce back like hers (or any currently alive Ylandra) and reflect like a white shirt - it simply took on the same hue, the warmth enhancing the reddish pigment to his skin with a tender caress.

In those moments she forgot the war was reality; she could only think of him as a dashing rogue unwittingly stealing her heart. Not that he wasn't already doing so even with the war — in truth, he had already stolen it — but it felt wrong to think him as attractive when reality returned to focus once she noticed the blood stains on his chestplate, and the oil splattered across the helmet clipped his his hip.

“Gonna come over or stare?”

Despite his words, his tone carried through his smile, as tight as it was, to be good-natured. Possibly even thankful.

Not that it stopped her face from warming.

“Sorry. I… I don't want to intrude or anything, just…”

“Hey,” he looked at her then, eyes setting on hers like she was the one reprieve he had seen for months. A gentle caress. “You're not intruding.” The gesture of his head, confident in movement, encouraged her towards him.

She remained still, just out of reach of the doorway to stop it from registering her presence yet distant enough to not pry int his space. “Are you sure?”

“If I didn't want you here, you'd know.”

His gaze did not leave her. His head remained facing her, his body still toward the ocean, but he had twisted his chest enough to open his posture. It revealed blaster scorching amd residue from his deecees, but nothing that signified injury.

“I wasn't injured, Peonia.” His words stole her gaze, roving over him, to his face once more. The expression he wore, with dark eyes glinting gold and copper in the sunlight, was tender. It pulled her in like bees to nectar.

If she were less of a person — if she did not know or was too naïve — she would have thought his smile spoke of some deeper affection towards her than she thought proper. A figment of her imagination. The truth was, she didn't know. She wasn't looked at with such kindness outside of family. She was used to being forgotten about until someone wanted something of her. It would be foolish to think she knew, or even think he knew, the deeper side of such a gaze.

It was kind. It was welcoming. Inviting. Genuine. And that was all that mattered.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Ah, don't be.” Once she was stood beside him, leaning on the same balcony with her hands gripping it firmly, he resettled into his original position. “You know what I'm like.”

“Unfortunately, your self-preservation instincts blow away like delicate petals in the wind after a battle, naturally. Something common between military types and Jedi.”

“Ya think?”

“Observed.”

“Your er… your sister seems to be good at that.”

“She's an outlier.” Nia allowed herself, for the first time that meeting, to chuckle- her mouth closed as always with such a sound. “There was this time probably… three or four years ago, now. She was helping the Amarantian Systems Navy with some slavers. She survived, unscathed, but her ship was in tatters. She saw Skywalker - a padawan compared to her Jedi-Knight self - do some trick and he dared her to do it better.”

“I guess he got under her skin?”

“No. Not really. But she was in a situation the trick was useful in. She says she did it better - something about being able to take out more from it.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I didn't see Skywalker's ship when he landed. Would be unfair to take her word for it, don't you think?”

“Point taken.” Rex, for what it was worth, tried to both hide away and remain as open as he usually was. His shoulders were wide, leaving his chest open on stance, but his elbows down to his wrist became closer together. He was half leaning on the balcony like it was all that stood between him. Yet he watched the ocean's waves, calm now compared to hours before, with barely knitted brows. “Didn't think I'd make it this far in the war.”

“I did.”

He didn't look at her, despite the small, wry chuckle that was half spat out like it was a true surprise to hear. “I forget you're optimisitc.”

She would have huffed in offense if she wanted to start something. She chose to quieten that urge. “Don't get me wrong, when we first met, I thought that being on your own in the hangar to install a disc to kick he Seppies out the system was… nothing short of bloody stupid, but when I got there you were doing better than most.”

“Should I… take it as a compliment?”

“Have I ever insulted you?”

It only got another smile.

She wanted something more.

“Next time there's shore leave,” she begun, allowing herself to sidle closer to him - the outside of her right hand so close to his left, she could feel the radiating heat, “I'm going to try to steal you away.”

His voice lowered, just slightly, and when she cast a glance at him, he looked at her with a raised brow and a challenging smile. One that, even now, she could not help but respond to with blissful fondness. “Is that so?”

“Hm-hm.” She affirmed.

He twisted his upper body enough to rest more on his right forearm. “And what will you do if you manage?”

“I, good Sir Rex, will take you to Soirham's most southerly beaches, where the water's clear and blue from sand instead of clay and muddy substrates. We'll have a beach hut, go swimming in the shallows, explore the food, spy the wildlife...”

“Maybe take a Hreða Tooka or two with us.” At her confusion, he cleared his throat. “I mean… maybe they'd like sand. And fresh fish.” He brought a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“There's a much deeper reason at play here…” Nia nudged him, her shoulder against the bottom of his pauldron, in gentle play. “Pray tell?”

He stuttered for a moment, multiple attempts to explain through fumbled words, before he released a long sigh. “Remember the fortnight me and the domino twins had to protect you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“You always spoke about your countryside with… hope. A kind of joy us Clones weren't allowed to have.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I… thought I was boring you.”

"That why you stopped?”

“Yes? I mean,” she tilted her head, “might as well save my vocal chords for something that gets listened to.”

“I was listening…” He was quiet, like the words were only for her to hear above the waves against the platform's support. “Jus’... didn't know how to respond.”

“I get that. Sometimes I don't know how to join conversations — never got the chance to learn before the kids at school made sure to other me.”

“Must've been tough.”

“Well,” silver eyes cast their gaze across the water, “I wasn't threatened with decommission for being different, so I guess it was easy compared to what you guys got. Left its marks and scars though.”

For a moment, she let the silence that followed grow — not that it was something she didn't want to talk about, but it was something she was hardly going to force a conversation out of if she had touched on as much as she needed to — yet when she looked at Rex again, seeking out if she had overstayed her welcome, his eyes remained on her as if he still couldn't accept that anyone could treat another so dreadfully when they had all the time in the world to be children.

“Anyway, why the cats specifically?”

The sun cast golds and ambers into his irises of deep brown, unwavering against its lowering rays whilst hers squinted to a near close, only seeing him through her lashes. She could still make out his hand rubbing the top of his head.

“You like them?”

“I like you, too, you know.”

His bashfulness increased, the heat she could feel coming off from him, standing shoulder to shoulder now, rose, and he struggled to find a spot for his hand.

“You… You do?”

“Yes.” She couldn't help her amusement, born from bewilderment. “Why wouldn't I?”

And just like that, Rex lost all the straightness in his back and closed on himself again. “I'm a clone. We weren't… taught how to be people. How to live. Just how to fight. How to survive… How to die… You're immortal compared to me. I don't know how it'd be—”

Her hand enclosed his, her fingers weaving around the sides of his hands, and she gently squeezed. “You're also immortal to many mortal creatures such as cats and dogs, but mortality and immortality do not matter - I don't know how to live for myself, being born to serve my people, billions I will never meet. We are both duty bound to those we do not know, but it does not mean I cannot enjoy your company, Rex: we all die one day, and I'd rather die knowing I spent most of my free time in this dark galaxy with you.”

The Captain, usually so confident and sure, opened and closed his mouth more than once before rubbing the back of his head and neck. "You sure 'bout that idea, mesh'la?"

"Do you think yourself unworthy of my presence?"

"No." His response was swift - too swift. "Yes. No? Yes?"

"Whatever for?"

He looked at her, unimpressed and as if to say really?. "I'm not a person to most of the galaxy."

"Nor are Jedi to most. You don't see me shoving my sister under a speeder, do you?"

"No..."

"Do you think I'd do that to you?"

"What? No. Course not."

"Think Aurora undeserving of my sisterly affection?" He shook his head. "So why you, again?"

"We're just... killing machines."

"No. You aren't." Nia took Rex's hands in hers. Hands that held weapons and fingers that pulled triggers, but deep within the fibres was the blood of his brothers. Brothers he comforted as they died. Brothers he grieved with. Brothers he loved. Brothers he hated. Brothers he knew all his life. Brothers he never met. The brothers he protected.

"Not to me."

And the ones he had no chance to try to protect, because they protected him first.

She gestured him close, arms open in offerance, and the moment he stepped into her space, as uncertain as he was at the newness, she enveloped him with her arms. As much of him as she could. As tightly as she could. Desperate, beyond all else — before all else — to flood him with the feelings her words would never be able to entirely convey.

"You are a person. You are all a people — a culture, an ethnicity — and you're all human. Even Mandalorians are as flawed as the next human race... species... whatever you want to call them." She felt his body shift in a short chuckle, even as he gradually released tension and allowed more of the ground to carry him than his feet. "And all species in this galaxy are as imperfect as one another. But the only things that are nothing but killers are the droids made specifically to be just that. You may have been trained to do it, but you can choose to stop. You have emotions that droids have an understanding of through cybernetic roadmaps in the programming, but ask them to paint or write? There will not, and never will be, that connection. A connection you would have."

"Mesh'la..."

Nia's face warmed. Beautiful. One of the few Mando'a words she could remember. Probably one of the few Rex and his brothers were taught. It was a word that was tender as its meaning. A feeling Rex's whisper above her head matched. If he knew, he made no show of it. And if he didn't know, he did not tense from realising.

He only kept her closer.

As close as plastoid against Amarantinite Beskar'gaam would ever allow.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, whenever you need me, whatever you need me for, and I like you. Just as much as I like fluff-ball gremlins like tookas." She leaned back just enough to press her forehead against his, arms trailing up to his elbows before she settled her left palm against the captain's cheek. He did not react with surprise or fear, yet brown eyes looked at her dully in grief. And when he took her wrist, it was not to move it away. "I promise."

But to keep her touch there.

"You are... too kind to someone who'll be replaced by twenty more when he dies."

"None of those twenty will be you, Rex. Not one."

"It's almost easy to believe when you say it." The Captain of Torrent Company lowered her hand, slow, steady, not knowing what he was going to do, but she knew he had little want to let go. His fingers didn't budge from their place, only lightly tightening. "To believe that I'm more than a soldier... it's..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah. I don't know how natborns do it, Peonia..."

"I've not figured out how to be a person. Kinda wish I didn't make myself non-working in my family's leadership work... I wouldn't have to worry about not fitting in anywhere. Everything would be scheduled for me to do, what neetings to go to, when I need to use my soft power to get something done."

"You work well in military life. I can see why your people want you to lead them one day..."

"That's just because I'm confident around Torrent Company... think I'd be a decent hermit, though. Feel like one enough of the time "

"You like our company too much."

"Well, you can come along if you get decommed. The hermit duo, you know?" Nia laughed a short breath "But, well, thank you. For being in my life. You might jsut see a soldier in yourself, but I see a man with a kind heart. A loving heart. And you need to have those hours in a day where you can be... just that." She tapped his chest with her free hand. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to your quiet."

And yet, he did not let go.

"Wait, Peonia..."

"Yeah?"

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat. "I like... love... you being around."

"Oh aye?"

"Yeah. Gives perspective."

"Nah. Just didn't want you to be alone to be sad. It's better grieving with others grieving, too."

"Can I... find you on The Resolute later?"

"Of course. No need to ask."

"Your cousin didn't raise a disrepectful soldier. I'll always ask."

"And I'll always say that, for you? You never need to knock." Nia's eyes fell to his chest plate, covered in scrstches old and new, the scent of singed plastoid from the Seppie blasters (and, maybe, as much as it hurt, accidental friendly fire in allied hallways) was made subtle by the salty air of the Kaminoan ocean. He gaze moved to her hand, settled with her fingers resting in the gap between his pauldron and the flexible shoulder-tops of his armour. "I enjoy you being around me, too."

"Me, too." And then "I-I mean, I, um—"

"Don't hurt yourself, Rex, I know what you mean." Her gaze flickered upward towards his thriugh her lashes, the sun fanning between the fine hairs that kept the worst of dust and debris from mammalian eyes, and she gave a smile. Tender and tranquil. Affectionate. "It makes me happy to know it's mutual. But now I should find Kix. Help woth the dead and injured."

"I'll come with." Nia tilted her head at Rex, who akready reached for the helmet magnetised to his hip. "Never know what clankers are there. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine, Cap. Take this time to yourself, okay? Shed some tears. Scream out at the sea. Wonder how far the siund travelled but never ask. Listen to the echo and it's fading journey. " She allowed her free hand to hold his cheek. To trace the line of tears that had dried upon his skin. To offer what little solace she could. "I'll be okay. Promise."

"Alright." Only then, satisfied with her wishes, did he lower her hand to hisbside and loosen his hold. "Wait for me before we board?"

She allowed herself a laugh. "Wouldn't dream of getting on before you."

"Then I'll see you on the other side, Lieutenant."

She gave a salute, playful but sincere. "Yessir."

Her first steps were backwards, keeping her eyes on him, and she only turned when their fingers had slipped apart from distance, their indexesbat full stretch for the touch to last even a millionth of a second longer.

A touch far warmer in comfort and setenity than the gooden hour over the mass grave thst surrounded them.

—

"You should tell her."

Rex didn't look over his shoulder. He didn't need to. The dusty, vintage pink of Ace's armour entered his peripheral, with the ALPHA leaning upon the same balcony. "That's vague."

"Jus' tell her you like her, old bean."

"Bean?"

"Sorry. Slip of the tongue." Ae's usually neat, half-up low ponytail had seen hundreds of better, bloodyless days. Side pieces had escaped, and were kept in place by hair grip that had strands of tawny blonde stuck in the teeth in the rush. Aurora's. "Admiral Seen'ahna and General Ylandra call each other thst to loosen a tight mood. Anyway, you should let Peony know you like her."

"She knows I like her "

"Not like her, Rex. But like-like her." The hundred-and-fourth oldest of his millions of brothers shimmied closer. "Tell her how your hesrt beats for her, aching when she leaves like the moon aches for the stars to join her. Or how summer flowers yearn for the spring's warmth to help them breathe again. Ylandra like flower talk. Bit of floriography."

Rex slumped forward, the roll of his eyes masking the sleight sigh. "Not all of us can afford to fratanise, Ace."

"Says the man who's been staring at Peonia every day for over a year, looking like a lovelorn puppy who's tail wags whenever she cokes into the room."

"I'm not that bad."

"I'll keep finding the most embarrassing likenesses to you until you grow a pair."

"Now you're being ridiculous." Rex looked at his hands. "She deserves better."

"We all think those we love deserve better than us, old boy." Ace's hand gradped Rex's shoulder. "We want what we think is best for them, and it's never ourselves. I'm not telling you to take her to an abandoned museum pin her to the wall, and kiss her senseless then make sweet love to her whilst calling her a masterpiecem" Rex choked on his own saliva at the bluntness. The slapping to his back barely helped. "I just want you to have the weight of keeping it secret from her off your shoulder but putting it out there to her."

"I'm not..." Rex's sigh bordered on irritated, and his frown was so deep it hurt. "I'm not good for her, Ace. She has a future — decades worth — back home. Her people want her to lead them further into progressive prosperity. It's a future I can't be part of."

"Says who?"

"What?"

"Says who?" It felt like Ace wasn't taking it as seriously as he should have been, casually looking at the ocean with a held back smile on his face. "Society? Because theobly one you shoukd be concerned with is Amarantine's, and in Soirham Clones are given the same rights as everyone else. Thwy can get byried there, get married, have kids, own a house, get a job, get an edication... be people. Kamino?" He scoffed. "Only in it for the paycheck. Other clones? You're living in blissful ignorance if you honestly believe thousands are still single or inactive."

"Ori'vod..."

"Look, I'm just saying, you clearly like her. Even Skywalker knows, so you aren't hiding it well. There's no harm in telling her you love her."

"But ... she's a friend... I don't want to ruin that."

Her hand noved again.

"And that's Snaw. Hreða's most famous cat. She's why we have snow, so sayeth the stories. Hreða wanted the world to see her beauty and experience the awe of such purity, so she created snow as a way for humans to feel that awe with every snowfall, and play jsut as she always."

Even beneath the moon, he could tell. Even now, beneath the childlike awe of the sky, and her poetic retellings of the stars' stories, there was pain. Discomfort. Physical and mental. Outward and inward. Beneath her smile of sentimentality and peace — the one he once loved more entirely than anything else he had ever know — he could see it. Feel it feasting upon her like a starved, cruel monster in all the stories ber ancestors wrote as a means to explain how to behave, how to act, and the unexplainable.

It fed off him, too.

Rex took her hand, tender and encompassing, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips first, then the lengths of her fingers, her knuckles, and, finally, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

They lingered. A handful of seconds he could wait eternity within, if only nature allowed .

"Rex?" He hummed, lifting his gaze to hers — emeralds glinting with their own stars — and only melted into warm putty when the backs of those same fingers caressed his cheek. "Are... you okay?"

"Mesh'la, I'll be alright." He shared a smile. His freebhand reached out, topsnof his fingers treating a loose strand of auburn hair as if it was delicate.

A treasure precious to him, because it was part of her.

"But what about—"

"Shhh." His hush was tender, still, with his arms pulling her into him. Her head came to rest upon his unarmoured chest — ear to heart — and the rest of her body settled into his as if he was the most comfortable bed she had known in years. "Allow me this moment?"

The most addictive feeling to him in the world wasn't the relief-borne adrenaline rushing through his blood after surviving the impossible — a feeling so swiftly quashed by the osmium-weight of grief that he had to carry above his head the rest of his life — or silken-soft fur and down within his palms.

It was Nia allowing herself to relax so entirely upon him he felt every millimetre of her body's tension subside into nothing. It was the way she curled into him as if she could fall asleep.

It made him feel that he, too, could relax. That every time she told him, in all her various ways, that he was her safe space, she wasn't saying it just to be nice. That every time she said he was as much a person as every one else, and only stained from blood and oil through nurter over nature, that she was right.

Rex ran his gingers through her hair. Her left thumb made back and fourth motions over his heart.

If he thought abouthoe, this time the week before, she was rushed into major surgery after being tortured for sixteen hours, and Death so very nearly took yet one more of Life's children, for even a milisecond, it would fill him with regret deeper than that of a void of a black hole. For so long, he had denied himself of such a chance. Of even a whisper.

And now that he had it, he dreaded the day he would lose it.

Another five minutes to a life capable of living to over a century was a day comsored to a Clone's life expectancy. He would do almost anything to freeze the workd ariubd then to make thise five minutes hiurs of extra time.

After all, to Rex, his favourite smile of hers was the one she could not hide when she looked at him, fond and silently pleading for him to be close to her, a red thread of fate that pulled him bedide her.

But Nia was faster, still. He sprint began with long strides that shortened and gained in speed, and she leapt off the thirty-degree ramp with a short jetack boost. She hovered, dual weskars firing with the recoil largely absorbed by stabilising modifications. The T-visor hid her expression, painting her with the same anonymity as her Mandalorian ancestors, yet the lack of Beskar on Amarantine had led to the rose-gold of Amarantinite being her aegis.

A material with a lifespan, but sharing most of the same traits if it were tempered right.

Most couldn't tell a difference between a Mandalorian and an Amarandalorian — warrior culture, similar weapons and armour, honour and loyalty being key tenants. Most of them were the hybridisation over the course of millenia, eternally shifting like earth beneath rivers and oceans.

Like star and planet systems through mebulaic clouds.

It made Nia's combatant-life easier to be swallowed into the same group. Even battledroids knew to fear Mandalorians.

Her hover came to a gracecul end woth her toes touching the ground. Tempered amarant'gar alloy turned blaster bolts into saddened embers, the metal untarnished,

Torrent surrounded her, laying covering fire.

Nia threw her left arm beneath Rex's underarms and around his torso, lifting him off the ground enough drag him through the overgrowth until the ground offered her him enough lift for her to buckle him to her torso with safety ropes.

"Hawk, we need emergency evac." She punched co-ordinates into her vambrace. "We need a LAaTi and V-Wing escort for Torrent, and a medical evac at these co-ordinates." She sent them. "I'm about to fly there now."

"Co-ordinates revieved and evac on it's way. Five minutes ETA to Torrent and Seven to medical."

"Cheers. Ylandra out."

Smoke from her Jetpack's start forced upthrust onto them, carrying them up through the glass ceiling of the estate's ten acre orangery, and piecrcing the rainstorm.

—

Rex had never been an easy patient. Only being able to work via torchlight beneath an overhang didn't make him easier, or more pliable. Even with the high dose of painkiller in his blood, he still complained, gave out orders, doing everything possible to send her far away to safety and more.

"Nia, I'm fine." He gave her his Captain look — all authority and knitted browed. "Get to evac."

"You're only 'fine' because of the bloody painkillers, Rex." She removed his thigh covering with expertise. "Hold still."

"Come. On. It's a graze." With her med kit in two parts — sterile and used — she initially pulled out her scanner. He would only keep on and on, trying to worm his way out of treatment to get back to the field. "I'm more worried about you."

And then she frowned. Scowled, even.

"I have armour that deflects almost everything, dear, and you" her gaze turned onto him like scorning a misbehaving child, "have a slug in your thigh."

"Huh?"

"So stop moving or I'll have to remove your godforsaken leg!"

The injury wasn't that far. Not yet anyway, though it did need to be removed as soon as possible and the wound packed woth bacta-infused material.

But the anger, born from the combination of stress, anxiety, and pure frustration from his stubborness, forced him to stop. To listen. If she were to remove her helmet, he'd be met with a wildness in her eyes to force it upon him further. To pin him so hard to the floor he'd never stand from it.

And that terrified her.

Rex's eyes were already widely staring at her woth his mouth agape. Purely silent. She could feel it penetrating her visor's peripheral, even as she forced herself to calm.

To steady herself.

"I'm going to have to remove it and pack the injury."

"What?"

"I'm experienced, Rex." She pulled at a packaged needle and a vial. "You'll need to be sedated."

"N-No. Evac's not far. I can last it out. I'm the Captain" Nia pulled off jer helmet with her free hand, the print if her palm made with Rex's blood on the metal, "so I'll... I..." his words trailed off. His gaze softened. His fingers reach oit for her, dancing across her cheek and grazing the lashes beneath the pleading gaze. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks, but—"

"And amazing. Really amazing."

"Pretending I gave you enough painkillers to make you high in the sky in thirty seconds isn't going to work."

"Worth a shot?"

"If this wasn't life and death for you, yeah. Worth a shot." She offered an assuring smile. "I know you hate sedation, but this is for your own comfort, too."

"I know." His palm settled against her cheek, and Rex sat up with a grimace to rest his forehead to hers. "But if something goes wrong, I don't want you to put the blame on yourself. I don't want anyone to blame you."

"Rex..."

"I love you, Nia." Noses brushed, and his fingers broke through the back of her hair as they cradled her. "If they blame you, it'll break you."

"Yep. Probably. But giving you permanent damage because the slug was putting prolonged pressure on your tendon? Because I didn't try? That would break me irreparably. Please? Let me try."

"... Okay. I surrender to you."

Only then did she open the syringe, prick ibto into the vial, take the amount she need, flicked to remove any airbubbles, and inject it into him slowly. Carefully.

"But, can I ask for one thing?"

"You can ask, but I can't promise anything."

He held up his index, a smile on his face. "One kiss."

A smile she matched. "Just one." She hovered over him long enough to press her lips to his, too short to be anything that wasn't chaste and too long to be a peck. But it was enough that, when she was back at ber kit, he was out.

“We still have” she looked at her watch “five hours to pass the time.” She wished she could have tilted her head up, yet being held just so, in the first summer rays since they had chosen to take the chance together, brought more comfort to her than anything she had experienced the past month. “I can take you on a walk?”

“Too warm for a walk, isn't it?”

“In your arnour, yes, but… I intend for it to not be in armour. “

He fekt the rumble of his chuckle within his chest, ricocheting within his plastoid shell. “If you wanted to get me alone, mesh'la,” Rex purred only for her to hear, “you only have to ask.”

“Tempting,” the captain loosened his hold around her enough for them both to turn to face each other - her fingers walked up the centre of his chest plate, showing far more  wear and tear than the rest of his torso (the solder marks he had painted the centre of alluded to it being from his phase one gear), until they came to the collar of his blacks, “but not when I inend to take you on a walk.”

“Rain check for after?”

“Sounds like a wonderful plan, Captain Rex.”  She felt his shudder in his neck and the palms on her waist - it took everything in her power to not turn smug.  “But I'm being serious here. We get to wear something more suitable for the weather - I think i may have spotted a linen shirt that'll stop you getting too warm.”

“And you?”

“I have a dress I think you'd like.”

“Don't dress on my account, Nia. You're always beautiful to me.”

Her cheeks flushed with colour  at the ease he spoke, unused to be called such by anyone that wasn't her father or aunt or sister, and the Ylandra hid her face against his chest with the guise of merely getting comfortable.

Captain Flatterer, more like.

“I like all my clothes, dear, but I also like wearing things that make us both happy, not just me.”

He hummed, tilting his head for a moment to kiss her crown, and then putting his chin back to rest on the area. “Describe it. Three words.”

“Hm… billowy… whimsical and… fantasy-esque.”

“Fantasy-esque?”

“Yes - like the dresses in those fantasy films I like watching, but the fabric's lighter because it's summer. It's not white, but is close to it I think. And it has those sleeves I know you like on me - the ones that split away from the arm before or at the elbow and down.”

For Rex's own benefit, she decided not to draw his attention to the way his hands tightened on her hips. She knew not why her arms were something he liked, they were simply limbs to her - though she supposed it was no different to her appreciation of his own and his legs.  She didn't even know why she felt that way herself, and she doubted he knew. 

Maybe he hadn't even noticed.  Or, if he had, he had accepted it as bizzare and part of the parcel.

Didn't stop her from being curious about it.

“Wouldn't it get dirty?”

“The ground should be dusty, but if it ends up being too long I can just pin it or something.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes?” She moved her head back enough to look up at him with a confused tilt of her head. “You know you can just… help, right?”

“I know.” He looked down at her with a smile, and a look in his eyes that made her feel like she was the only person there. She wished that he could be so free in the rest of the galaxy as he was here, where there were no consequences for being a living thing. “But I wanted to.”

“Very pre-emptive of you.”

“Like being ahead.”

“Can't say I didn't notice.” She gave him the same grin he gave her. “Let's go. Before I spend the nwxt five hours staring at your face.”

“Why? What's wrong with it?”

She held his chin, her thumb finding its home on the scar on his chin. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Nia stepped back from the soaked canine, shaking the water of the woodland river from her coat - even the hreða tooka of pure black (an older kitten that had been weaned from her mother for a month) hid beneath her dress - white and elegant, the skirt of which didn't touch the floor but grazed the tops of her feet -  to escape the onslaught. Rex groaned at getting soaked, realising much to late what was happening, yet his grin was wide as if it was the first time he had experienced something sp normal, with the bi-coloured white and black, young Wolfdog descendant getting face rubs from him. 

She figured it must have been. He knew the animals of her home well, but he had never taken anything but the shinies on walks - and for the shinies, it was so he got to know them.

The pure love and awe on his features never ceased to amaze her; she hoped the area never stopped amazing him.

“There's a good place to eat our vittles.” Nia pointed at an ancient tree, with branches that spread far and wide, limbs that saw the high republic come and go, the sith collapse, the mandalorian failure to claim Old Soirham as theirs, and was just an acorn half a century before that. Still it's leaves were healthy, and its acorns produced trees that traveled the country in conservation.

It created good shade, a good rest, and the animals out of the warm sun.

Rex moved beside her, favouring pecking her cheek (simply because she was there) and taking her hand than really paying attention to where she pointed. His hum of agreement grazed her skin, and he took the shoulder bag of their picnic to reside on his. The kitten - a short haired Hreða with a cream coat and a darker brown centre of the face, tail, paws and ear tips, and blue eyes - sensed the movement and came out of her hiding spot. She was harnessed and on a lead for her safety;  she led the way happily with joyous bounding and trotting. For such a young creature, she understood that Nia was not her a fully healed self, and chose to exude her glee lf the weather without forcing her to run.

A point Nia was silently grateful for and made not to thank the young fur baby later. Rex didn't need the extra worry on his shoulder; he had mother henned her enough since her return to duty five months ago. 

Not that she blamed Rex for his worry - she was close to death when the managed to get off Iðunn; she was lucky to survive at all. Then Umbara not long after that… Nia would have been concerned if he wasn't overly protective of her recovery. But considering the day before his leave ended and her return to active duty, they had laid together beyond just sleeping… It was ironic. He didn't hurt her at all, and, granted, it was hardly marching for miles with the weight of five unarmoured men on your back in just armour alone, with the addition of running to save one's skin, but for limbs that could only stand her up for so long and only walk so far before needing to sit down, she was pretty impressed they were almost back to normal the next day.

Surely it was proof he needn't fret so much over her every day?

“Mesh'la.”  Rex tugged her hand softly, pulling her still walking form into him. “Where you goin’?”

Slowly, he took the tooka's lead from her hand. His arms snaked around her middle, the heat of the sun long gone from her skin in favour of semi-dappled shade, the light speckling through leaves it cast in it's yellow glow to paint them with the joy of colour where just a month ago the leaves would have been in their buds. Hands were secure, his fingers holding his palms in a simple embrace that kept her in against his person. His forehead rested against hers, noses brushing as he settled into a comfortable place.

It was so quiet, turning up just after the dog walkers had partook in their activity, that all she ciuld hear above the playing of the feline and canine, above the faint echo of her heartbeat and the ghosting kf Rex's breaths, was the wind through trees, the sheep and cattle in the fields, nearby equines having a bicker with ine another, the song birds and a distant woodpecker, and the soft movement of the canal that had become as much a home to wildlife as the river had claimed it.

“Sorry. Lost in thought.”

“About?”

“You.”

“Me?” After nearly half a year, the surprise that laced his voice to such a statement endeared her further to the usually confident, but mostly modest, Torrent Captain.

“Yes, you.” Nia pecked his lips, simply because they were there, she could, and the one he gave her in chase was a cycle that filled her to the brim with a joy no other had given her. “Is it truly so bad to be in your love's thoughts so often?”

“You didn't not think of me when we were friends.”

“We still are friends, my dear. Just because we're lovers, it doesn't mean we're not friends anymore.”

His chuckle rumbled from his chest and into hers. “True.” Rex moved one of his hands to her cheeks, his index weaving the loose strand of her at her temple (which she left out of her loosely curled half-up-half-down ponytail, which was just two sections of hair from the side of her head plaited and brought together at the back). “If we had never been friends… we wouldn't have what we do now.”

“Everything else would he the same, but we'd not have each other.  That makes me sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yes. Sad.”

“Don't get me wrong, iId be sad, too. But i'm used to… something a little more… poetic from you.”

“Sad's more accurate.  You could have ended up with, i don't know, a receptionist called Linda who never loved you for you but just wanted points. And that deeply upsets me. Because I hate it when anybody dimples it to anyone, but you're the only people in the republic with no rights in the galaxy at large… and I loathe to think someone would -”

“And I know,” he interrupted, lightly guiding her to the trunk of the tree with his thumbs caressing where her cheek and the small of her back, “that you would still think yourself unlovable, unworthy  and broken. And that, my beautiful cyar'ika, breaks me apart.”

Should have just stabbed me twenty seven times with that truth.

She was quiet, following him to the ground. She crossed her legs, her dress easily hiding her knees and shins, and stared at her hands. Her fingers found themselves busy with opening the back and taking out lunch, their movement slow and steady - calculated. Pre planned. Even with two obligate carnivores watching expectantly, she remained unyeilding.

For if she didn't, the parts of her that still felt all of those things would claim her victory. She wasn't going to crumble - throughout her entire recovery so far, she had not so much as lost a speck to wavering mental wellbeing in front of anyone. She wasn't going to start now because of a sob story.

She never wanted Rex to feel he was failing. It wasn't his fault ahe had spent twenty years with no ine but family wanting her company, and it wasn't his fault her only relationships where manipulative pricks that turned her from self-worth into nothing. It wasn't his job to fix her.

The smallest animal tugged at her wrist - the frline's pupils were so wide they nearly hid her irises - and made the cutest noise. 

“Hello, Delphi. I'll get your food in a sec.”

But the kitten now showed no interest. She stood herself up on her back legs and her fronts only managed to weave around Nia's neck because she slouched. But it was enough.

And who was Nia to refuse such an act? The problem was, there was only one downside to tge purest love any animal held for her:

She cried as an automatic response.

One she could not switch off.

She neededca plan to not draw attention. And that just had to be to get the dog's food open single handedly, the other keeping Delphi comfortable, and revisiting decade old anti-voice-breaking techniques.

“Nia?” She hummed, tipping the cooked meat, raw egg, and the small amount of pumpkin into her food bowl. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” She offered him a grin, hoping to all of the old pantheon and the force he had left his alert state enough to jot notice it didn't feel as wide as usual, and moved more to show him the kitten that decided to hug her.  “C'mere, Bilb'ry. Your dinner is ready for noms.”

The canine was more than happy to eat, though she settled and half leaned against her knees. 

“It's not, mesh'la.” His fingers wiped at her eyes. “I know your tells.”

Dammit. 

“It's nothing worth breaking this peace over.”

“If your upset enough for the tooka to choose you over food, it's  broken your peace.”

“It doesn't mean it's worth breaking yours over.”

“Cyare,” he pulled her gently into his chest - now bare with his shirt drying from a low hanging branch - until she was cradled beneath his chin, “whe your peace is broken, so is mine. ‘Your sorrow is my sorrow.’"

How rude - using my philosophy against me. 

Delphi seemed to agree, though she now chose to slip to Nia's lap and receive her pets and cuddle that way. 

“But - “

“No buts.” She opened her mouth to speak, and he gave her his Captain look.

She officially had no choice.

And so she sighed in defeat, her hands fussing with the tooka in her lap that purred, and her wars inent on listening to Rex's heart hammering in his chest.

“It's just… you think so highly of me, to think I don't still struggle just as much as I did before. I still think I'm unlovable. And it's not because I don't feel loved by you, because I do - and it's the most loved I've felt in a long time - but it's me. I spent a decade trying to make friends before I gave up. I spent years trying to be loved until I realised the only people thst wanted me never cared about me. I spent time after school struggling to know where I stood in the galaxy.

“Now I belong somewhere - I hate that it meant war had to occur for me to find it. And now there are at least a handful of people that care about who I am instead of what I am, and there's you - but I still felt like I didn't… fit for most of my life. On bad days, it's to think everyone's just being nice, and being nice is just asking for a cuppa - anyone can do that. Even arsehats and abusers can be nice. I'm always going to be one comment away from feeling all those things again.”

Rex was quiet; Nia half thought she had relented too easily, too freely, and didn't know if she should bury herself into him deeper or pull away from him with a string of apologies. Yet, in spite of it, his hold on her grew more secure when she began to move. More encompassing. More intent on drowning those thoughts and replacing them with him in full. 

“Anythin’... I can do?”

“It's not your job to fix me…”

“Maybe not. But as a man who loves you, it's my duty to help you heal.”

Delphi - the kitten whose name was short for Delphinium to work with her mother's name of Ammi - meowed at the gentle squish as Nia shifted her to a better position for both of them. She purred and stretched before deciding to put al her attention to her rumbling tummy. 

“Go eay, sweety. I know you want to cuddle me, you fwuffy baby, but you won't be able to snuggle if you starve.” The food was already waiting for her on a saucer, not too disimilar to the canine's dinner but mixed with water and salmon.

The moment the kitten perched in front of her plate in a half loaf, Bilberry's nose slotted into the space.  Nia's hands were quick to fuss her, as was Rex. 

“Nia, cyare,” his lips were against her scalp, his breath grazing the whispy frays. “I love you. You're not alone anymore.”

“I know.”

“So… what can I do to help?”

Nia moved back enough that when she tilted her head, which came to rest on his shoulder, should see his face; eyes like freshly smelted  bronze with flecks of gold gazed upon her with a delicate touch, yet so firm in sincerity there was no room to believe  he didn't love her at all. “Continue loving me the way you already do.”

“That,” he hooked his index under her chin, brushing his nose with hers affectionately, “I can do.”

There was a hiss  followed by the canine swiftly leaving her place with a growl. No kiss came where she expected it, and the all too familiar rush that had begun to feel like comfort in a bottle became that of fear. 

She snapped her head so fast a muscle twanged in dislike of such a movement, but she could not respond, for any sudden movement could have been it.

“Delphi, c'mere, girly. Slowly.” The feline heard, her backlegs slowly moving, and Bilberry was ready to pick up the cat if needed.

Nia could sense Rex was moving, and she clicked jer tongue to keep the young fox's eyes on her.

“That's it Delphi. Bilb'ry's not far behind you -”

A stun blast went off at the predator.  Delpji sprinted to Nia  and buried herself into her neck with front paws around her neck. Bilberry groomed and nudged the kitten  as if trying to soothez and all Nia could do whilst holding the scared feline was stare at Rex in confusion as he leaned against the branch and put his pistol in his holster.

“Wha-”

“I'm going to move the fox somewhere closer to food. Must be desperate to be hunting in the day.”

“If you weren't - “

“Hey,”  he crouches, his knees clicking, and kissed her chastely before rubbing Delphi's cheek, “everything's okay. Delphi's okay. Fox's okay. But I've really got to move it before it wakes up.”

“There's a proper woodland a couple minutes run away. If you follow this path, you'll find it. Should be food there."

“Thanks, Mesh'la.” He gave the wolfdog cross a similar pet as Delphi. “Keep watch, trooper.  No napping til i get back.”

The canine was all too happy to oblige.

“- and so, in the stormy night, Hreða was buried and where she lay to rest, and a month later, a young kitten with the markings and mismatched eyes of the goddess of glory was found beside the first shoot of what is now known as The Heáhgnung Actreow…”

Soft breaths fanned her thigh. Rex, head on her thigh, looked most at peace than he had all week. Delphi slept on his chest, head beneath his chin, looked as if she had jot nearly been attacked by a fox. Even Bilberry had chosen it was okay to sleep now, her head on Nia's shin. She could not reach the canjne,but the dog seemed not to kind as deeply asleep as she was  lost in dreams.

For now, her somewhat free hand was trapped within the hold of Delphi, dark brown paws holding it place whilst she was in mid meow. Her freer hand barely moved from its spot on Rex's head, still working across his scalp, afraid that he would wake if she stopped. Since Umbara, he had slept illly and only his training kept him from collapsing from so few hours.  He had  started to join her in her room at first, away from her to not accidentally hit her of her thrashed, but he always woke up beside her, slotted neatly with his head beneath her chin, and no recollection moving - either only partially in the waking realm, or sleep walking.

Nia wanted him to rest.

And so she looked to the fields and the hedges. She listened to the birds talking. She watched the blackbirds dig into the ground with their beaks and pulling out worms to feed their first brood of the year. She watched the squabbling sparrows over the first berries, and stayed still at the sight of a wild rabbit family moving from one field to another. Even a fawn with wonderfully white spots frolicked in the long grasses of meadowland, forever watched by his mother and the herd they traveled in.

“Why'd you stop?” A groggy voice caught her attention, and a weary hand cradled her cheek to look at him. Rex squinted, one eye closed entirely and the other barely open, and he had his head at an agle to keep the worst of the sun out his eyes.

“You were asleep, my love.”

“Restin’. Not sleepin’.” He sighed happily at her hand blocking the golden rays and kissed her wrist. “Like your stories t'much to sleep.”

“I'm a rather boring storyteller.”

“I disagree, cyare. Jus’... lack confidence to be one.”

“You just like my voice.”

“Not denyin’. You tell more stories and talk about your wildlife when you're relaxed. Means, I know you're okay.”

“Rex…”

His index followed the lighting shaped lines across her forearm, half in the process of bacta treatments, some lines barely there and others refusing. Iðunn wasn't kind - nor were the Separatists - but Rex treated them with the same oove he gave her. They were now part of her.  He jad seen them qhen they were fresh. He saw them wrapped in film like any severe burns would be. He saw her nearly died. It was not a touched that loved them.

It was of reverent gratitude they did not take her.

“I love you.”

That was all he had to say to make her smile like it was just them, a group of four beneath a four hundred year old oak, and the wildlife around them.

“And I love you.”

Rex, for what it was worth, wasn't used to anyone but kids (be it Commander Tano or the cadets back home) falling asleep on him. It was his fault, he knew, for he had sat in Nia's favoured seat on the sofa, and he angled himself into its corner with a welcoming presence that simply hungered for her. But he didn't think she actually would take up the unspoken offer.

And now he was laid upon with her head residing upon his chest, bare to feel the air upon his skin after five hours of returning bac to Courscant, legs entangled like a hunt in a snare, and her front pressed into his right side.

It both terrified him and filled him with peace - to be more than a soldier, to have a small taste of what other soldiers had. A much younger him would have considered turning him in or taken much convincing to turn a blind eye. 

Being turned in still filled the inner cadet in him with terror; now he had this - a taste for what he was told he would never be allowed to have - he had the confidence to shut out the thought  and fight for it. He felt it made him a stronger defender.

And now he was understanding why some of the clones he knew had risked their duty. It wasn't losing their purpose, not at all. To him, he had… more purpose. He had something to fight for that he understood and knew. Something beside a republic he didn't know and the jedi he served. He had Nia.

He hoped, beyond all the hope he could have, that she knew she had him, too.

Nia stretched out her legs, and her hold around his waist tightened. She made small sounds that reminded him of an awoken tooka; it took him every ounce of will he had to not further wake her despite his fingers still finding the mere act of running through her roots soothing as he read the most recent report he had written.

“Rex?”

The captain picked his vambrace up from the table in front of him, unbothered by the sun in his eyes. “Kix?”

“Have you seen our resident Tooka? She's not responding to my calls.”

He thought for a brief second. “That might be something to do with me.”

“Sir,” the chief medic fell into no-nonsense swiftly, “if you've taken her halfway across the planet on chores -”

“No, not this time.” Nia made another, quiet noise as she settled further into him. The sleeve of her summer dress fell off her shoulder and he gently fixed it. “She's getting forty winks.”

“If you tired her out -”

“Remember we were given the go ahead for that short mission on her homeworld?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We got back an hour ago.”

“But, Rex, she's due her next annual city world vaccine. If she doesn't get it today, this time next week she could be severely unwell.”

“I know, Kix. She's been dreading it all month. I'll bring her to you in” he took a quick glance at the time “three hours tops.”

“Roger that, Rex.  Kix out.”

Without another word, Rex put his vambrace back on the table and settled himself further down the sofa. With ease, though plenty of gentleness, he shifted Nia atop of his body and lowered the thin blanket over her legs. The words had began to blend together on his datapad and each blink became heavier - he wasn't even sure he had typed what his brain was trying to say. He put it down and settled further, pulling the blanket further up her body.

He was glad he wasn't wearing the plastoid cladding of his upper body - the weight of her upon him, alongside the feeling of her breath and movement through the fabric of his pressure suit, brought a level of comfort that was immeasurable to an extent in which he did not know any comparison.

She was alive, sometimes struggling to get comfortable, and other times much comfier than he thought anyone should find the muscle that made up his body. He was alive, blessed to be deemed worthy enough to be her human pillow - he wouldn't have anyone else, even another vod, in his place - and the small kisses pressed to his form entirely at random never failed to make his heart soar.

With a long press of his lips to her crown, he shifted beside her as best he could whilst keeping her in the position she had deemed suitable. Rex shifted his right leg to stretch out behind her and his left in front albeit temporarily bent, before leaning back against the arm of the sofa. The cushions were comfortably sandwiched around the corner and a pillow covered the solid arm, but nothing was as greatly wonderful as having her weight back upon him, stretched out with her ear over his heart, when he gestured her to return up his body.

“You staying here tonight or returning to the barracks?”

Rex held her closer, though gentle in his embrace, and wove his fingers through the hair on her scalp as if massaging her. Her question was weary, for she had napped (she usually found cooking mentally tiring), yet it filled him with unquestionable comfort.

“The boys want me here. Somethin’ about prepping for some sort of surprise.” He kissed her crown. “And I want to stay here with you if you'll allow me.”

“If I was allowed without risking your livelihood, I'd steal you away every night.”

“I'd come willingly. No doubt about it. Holdin’ you like this every night? Somethin’ I dream of.”

“You dream?” The humour in Nia’s voice told him she was simply kidding. “That suggests you sleep.”

“Scary, huh?” He mirrored her grin before brushing noses with her.

Beautiful.

That was what she was to him, and much more, for his mind could not entirely find any words to describe her except for the purest form of beautiful. Both body and heart. Both heart and spirit.

“I dream of staying with you every night, too.”

The reverence in which she spoke should not have surprised Rex, but his heart seemed to freeze at the overwhelming sincerity at the confession that came so freely from her after so long of being together: knowing that they both dreamed of each other, being with each other in basic domestic ways that everyone but clones and slaves outside the republic were allowed to have, was freeing.

“You do?”

“Not always innocent dreams, mind, but yes: I dream of us.”

That was a lot for an Ylandra: they didn’t often dream, so the legends said, and no one seemed to know why: every theory on them not having an imagination was instantly refuted with the sheer number of artists and writers in their family lines for centuries, and how they spoke about feelings, especially, showed great use of creative descriptions. Thoughts of them not being ambitious were knocked from the park: Nia was almost too ambitious in her school years and her aunt, an armourer, mentioned that it froze her zest for doing things to such an extent it was doubtful the energy would ever return.

But sleep issues, mostly not feeling fully rested, were common in all that rarely dreamed even if they were difficult to wake.

The implications created by the fact that she dreamt of him often were multiple, but of her reply on one made him flustered the most.

“I dream of you like it, too. Not always innocently.” He swallowed thickly.

“I assumed you did.”

Her words didn’t help the warming of his body, though he tried to sound like it had no effect at all. “You...did?”

“Hm. I would tell you how I guess, but…”

“But....?”

Nia lifted her head with a bright smile, her eyes narrowly avoiding the bright sun that painted the shape of the pointed arched sash window behind him on her cheek. It was different for Coruscantii architecture, but the Amarantian quarter of the upper levels was never going to be the same as Coruscant if he knew the Ylandras half as well as the writers, usually friends and family, evidently did. Blending in with Coruscant meant, in many ways, erasing parts of themselves and becoming no different to the political powerhouse of The Republic.

Without it, Nia’s mischief would not be so well framed in gold.

“You’ve got an early start in the morning with Ace. And I think you’d like sleep, and I know I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow to visit my sister.”

Rex’s grasp on her form softly tightened, and he leaned close enough for his words to brush against her lips. “Just a little hint?”

“Let’s just say, you’re more… restless. And you’re up half an hour earlier to have a cold shower.”

He hummed in thought. “How'd you know it's cold?”

“You come back into bed and I go to snuggle you only to be met with ice.”

“Got to wake you up, cyare.”

“I'm not against being woken up to kisses and handsy touches -”

“M'ow.” The sound of a kitten sounded, small and jumping up the steps in place just for him to join them, swiftly followed by little feet (Nia called them ‘Paddle feet on stick legs’) traversing them. M'ow.”

“Hello, trouble.” Rex offered him a hand and the mostly brown tooka, with grey on his back and around his tail, black ear tips and crown, a white belly and chest, and the start of shocks of blue just like Fives’ armour. “Want a cuddle?”

“M'ow.” The took brushed his cheek against Rex's hand, but headed towards Nia and beneath her arms.

“Hello Tooky Wooky Fivesy Wivesy.” She pressed a kiss to the kitten's head. “You stopping your pawrents from flirting?”

“M'ow.”

“I'd say it was rude, but you're only a baby. I'll allow it.”

It seemed their conversation would have to continue later - and the kitten, not long adopted into their lives, looked at him smugly.

Trouble.

Rex tilted his head. His fingers, once following auburn ends, stilled at the strap of Nia’s navy vest top. He squinted his eyes at the top of four dots peaking from beneath the fabric: markings he had never seen before in a similar shade of blue to that of the five-oh-first.

Softly, roughened fingertips moved the strap down her shoulder. He stared once it was revealed, forced into silence — voice, breath, and thought gone, replaced only by a small section of her skin above her left breast painted with jaig eyes.

“When did you get this?” 

“Hm?” Rex followed the outline of the jaig, still looking at it curiously, and she swallowed thickly. “Oh. That. It just healed a couple days ago so a few weeks I guess?” She went to cover it with her hand, but Rex stopped her. “I can always get a laser removal in a few months… I know I didn't ask…”

“No, no. No you don't.” Rex lifted his gaze from the tattoo and looked at Nia's eyes - swimming with uncertainty and fear. He doubted it was fear of him. “It's nice.”

“Think so?” 

“Know so.” He wasn't entirely sure why he dipped his head, but he couldn't stop himself from following through the urge; he kissed the jaig eyes on her skin. “Beautiful.”

Rex was gentle. With it being so new, he didn't want to risk any harm to her skin with his wish to lavish the area. 

“Flattery.”

“Compliment.” He corrected with a peck to her lips. “Always a compliment. Though,” he returned his gaze to the blue on her skin, “why Jaig eyes?” 

When he looked at her after a beat of no words or even breath, he saw her looking at him with wide, blinking eyes as if in shock. 

“Is it… not obvious?” He only blinked in turn, brain empty of anything but surprise she even had the tat in the first place. “It's you, Rex.”

His eyes, he swore, had never grown so wide in his life, and he swore it took half a minute to even process the words.

“Me?”

“Yes, you dense brick.” She grinned brightly, hiding a laugh as he became even more surprised.  “You! Who else has Jaig eyes in five oh first blue that I know, huh?” His cheeks warmed, her hands held his cheeks. “Only you, darling.”

He wasn't entirely proud about how quickly the knowledge sent heat between his legs. It shouldn't have had such an effect on him: the woman he loved marking herself with a symbol of him. But it was. And he felt protective of it. Of her. Of them. With how much they had overcome, it was difficult not to feel that way. But now he knew she had stamped him onto her skin? 

It was impossible not to feel anything but a pure power to protect it.

Thank the force the boys picked up the fur ball for the night.

“You could have had any tattoo.” Rex ran a hand up her side, his thumb encircling any area it could. “Why one to represent me?”

“Because, Rex,” her fingers shifted from the curve of his jaw to his chin, “I love you.”

It had been a short while since he had felt flustered by her words, but these words went straight to his heart and spread heat to his cheeks and groin. Her lips pressed against his, intended to be a peck, but he didn't want her to stop. He held the back of her head, fingers weaving in damp, silken hair, and deepened the kiss with a contented sigh through his nose.

Her arms slowly wove themselves around his shoulders, one set of fingers threading through his buzzed hair, as chaste and lingering grew long  beyond that  with the dancing of tongues and her hands being the first to grow restless. 

Muscle quivered beneath the cool touch of Nia's fingers, following the line of his sternum and down further. His belly reacted to the sudden touch of her fingers along denditive hairs, his breath hitching as if to hold back a laugh. It only worsened when she circled his belly button before continuing her journey.

“Mesh'la,” he purred against her lips, grasping her wrist with a calculated slowness, “I'd be careful.”

“Whatever for, Captain?” The fingers of her free hand walked up his chest, her words coy and testing.

“You want to walk tomorrow, and I don't know if that'll be possible.”

“You have little faith in yourself.” His breath hitched when her index circled a nipple.

“Nia,” his hold on her wrist tightened at her wiggling fingers  “I'm serious.”

“Then prove me wrong, Sir.” She pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck. “Show me.”

Rex snapped. He squared his knees, tilted her head back, and kissed her like his life depended on it. He released her hand in favour of slipping bebeath her back and pressing himself against her. He swallowed thickly at the heat of her clothed mound against his growing erection. Her mewled sigh at the contact helped him very little, his hand pushing up her top up for his mouth to take her nipple into his mouth. He was almost smug at the difficulty she had taking off the article, her chest arching to both aid her single-handed endeavour and in encouragement. Her other hand  roamed his body, following plains and valleys of muscle whilst trying her best to get her point across that she wanted him naked and the towel oreventing him from being so on the floor.

He got her point, but it wasn't him claiming her - no. She had claimed herself as his already with her tattoo. 

No.

He intended to worship her.

His lips moved from her breasts, following the central line of her toned form. His hands moved quicker, dragging downer sleep leggings and underwear teasingly in one movement, spending his time kissing scars from Iðunn bacta could not heal, and scars since. Some were from the cats making biscuits on her or asking for love and affection. Some were from before the war. But all were part of her.

“You're beautiful.”

“Rex.” He hummed in response, dragging his lips down her pelvis. “As much as I'm sure my pelvis appreciates the compliment, I'm pretty sure -” he pressed his lips against her clit, and he was pleased with the way her gasp interrupted her sentence. One of her hands shot to his scalp. “Maker's breath.”

“Good, sweetheart?” 

“Always when it's you."

“Jus’ checkin’ in.” 

“That's very sweet of - kriff.”

Rex bit back his chuckle at her reaction, his tongue gliding slowly along her folds.  He cast his gaze toward her face, silver eyes twitching to fight closure. Teasing words remained in his throat, desperate to be said, but he decided to be kind to her.  Tease less, pleasure more. 

Not to say he wouldn't every so often - like his index joining his mouth, collecting her slick and grazing her sensitive pearl for the sole reason of making her hips buck as if it tickled.  She groaned in annoyance, unable to grip his buzzed hair, and rather used her leg to jolt his side in warning. 

“Sorry, mesh'la.” He kissed her inner thighs, leaving small marks from her arousal in their place. “You're too cute.”

Befire se could respond to it, he slid his tongue within her, groaning against her folds at her taste, and rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts  no longer teasing her. Her hips bucked, now in search of more as he lapped at her with pleasured grunts, and her voice reached his ears as restrained pants and moans.

He parted from her only to take a deeper breath and slide his index within her in favour of his tongue lapping at the bud of nerves.

Nia's legs threatened to enclose around him when he added another digit. He kept them apart. His name fell from her lips, her hips rode his fingers, his mouth sucking her bud and he scissored his fingers, preparing her for him thoroughly. 

Her back arched, feet planting firmly into the mattress, one hand holding onto him, and her body turned still before her muscles shook and quivered  her walls tightening around her fingers. Rex ensured he drank up her release, only removing his fingers when her body had relaxed.

He let go of her to remove the towel around his waist and released his mouth from her before he overstaued his welcome, reverently kissing his way up her body and massaging her waist softly as she came down.

“Still okay?”

Nia's hum was quiet, an eye opening blearily with a relaxed smile gracing her features. “Still good. Just gimme a couple minutes?”

“Always.” He led on his side, gaze briefly following the line of her body, her legs still spread, skin slick with sweat, some areas flushed a pinky-red in the afterglow. Rex returned his eyes to hers, his head resting on bent fingers with his elbow propping up his upper body, one leg with a bent knee in casual comfort and a deliberate offering to her. “Don't want to hurt you or break your trust.”

“I know.”

His fingers made to brush her cheek: Nia held his wrist, kept eye contact, and, despite her shyness, slowly licked his fingers. Her closest hand reached for his abandoned cock. This time, he let her.

She pumped him slowly, taking her time to tease his tip, and she kissed up his arm, shifting closer to him bit by bit until she had hin on his back and pliant for her.

He would always be pliant for her.

He cursed beneath his breath when she straddled his waist, his head thrown back and his hands gripping her hips.

Who knew her tattoo to represent him would have got him in a chokehold? Not him. 

“Captain,” out of habit, Rex held his index and middle finger to where his ear would have been if he weren't wearing a helmet - the comm channel was from a shiny LT, “General Ylandra's sister's on her way.” There was gun fire. “Gonna get security weapons back online.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Jesse. Get R5 to run a scan on the hangars. Too quiet down here.”

“Roger, Roger, sir.”

The read in his HUD said the programme was only eighty-five percent through Seppie control, and without the Separatists’ influence at the control panel, it wasn't going to be long before he could put up the city's Old Republic era shield. He wasn't sure if it would be able to hold out against modern technology, but he was willing to be wrong. He wanted to be wrong. The shield was the only thing standing between Northern Amarantine existing and Amarantine being united for the first time in thirty years, or a complete collapse and the western region's Seppie backed family taking full control of the planet.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His hands gripped his pistols tighter. Before the heavy presence behind him could cast too close a shadow next to his, Rex siderolled behind the foot of the mandalorian fighter. A blaster bolt cut through the back of his shin, the contracted muscle as he crouched low in cover burning in desperation for him to listen; it would have to be patient. He was only one clone, and there were twenty droids heading toward him.

In a split second, half on the fly, he calculated the best order to dispatch the clankers, starting with those mich to close to him and too close to separating into various groups. The B1s were easier, wiring exposed in their necks, but the B2s were bulky. No one could break their wired on head on account of it being completely hidden. In had to hand combat, they were tricky customers but they were more likely to remain at the back to use their in built firepower.

“Could really use the jedi right about now.” He muttered beneath his breath, moving his cheek muscles to keep the audio mostly picking up on his flanks, as he to-and-fro’d between the sides of the landing foot he chose as cover. The only bonus was that the hangar door was closed; he had open sides and plenty of space behind him to get surrounded if he didn't act quick enough to get out.

Unlike the balconies above.

“Should have had my jetpack.”

But he didn't, and even if he did, the distance was too far out for the range of his DCs.

He'd made it through worse on his own before - snuck off so more of his men didn't die trying to take down ray shields. He'd be the sacrificial lamb happily, and he'd do what he had to if he must to defend this bloody control panel.

Twenty droids were nothing, but they had tried to cut him off. It wasn't going to be easy.

“Captain, R5's finished the scan. There's a unit of droids heading your way; I’m taking Fives and Echo with me. Commander Ace is on his way help you.”

“I think I've got it -”

“There's another thirty in there with you.” Ace spoke, half annoyed. “Stop being determined to do things alone, would you?” And then he breathed. “I'm going to be on the upper balcony and rumble them. They'll be focused on me.”

“Copied.”

“General's sister should be with you in less than a minute. Hang in there.”

“Roger, Sir.”

Less than a minute was nothing but a corridor, but in a fight it felt like a lifetime.

He took to counting in his head - another way to focus as he ducked beneath a B2's rocket. The blast took out three B1s and a B2 he had almost taken out. He could take down the last of the first wave before this sister arrived if they didn't get on top of him and cut off any retreat.

He back stepped to the front of the ship as the remaining ten droids came in hot. Need better cover. Focusing on three sides was time consuming and left him open , but he needed to be here - in sight of the control panel. Battledroids weren't capable of reversing the now 90% complete programme, but he didn't want them to destroy it either.

If it was going to be anything going down, it was going to be him.

Jus’ do it the Cody way.

A B1 came too close to his flank, the audio picking up the metallic clop of feet like a warning signal. Rex swiftly moved his left arm and shot the clanker's head cleanly, the wiring sparking as it shut down. His other side blared - he roundhoused, just as Ace had taught him half a decade ago, and grabbed the staggering junk-metal to ram the wiring against his bent knee, slicing more wires.

A B2 tried him next, going in for a swing. At least, it would have done had Rex not peppered half a round of blasters in its chassey.

Not that it saved him from the impact of a rocket nearby - the shockwave staggering him enough to knock him onto his front. He still held his pistols and moved to some form of low cover, dispatching the last of the B1s.

One Super to go…

He stood slowly, back pressed against the landing foot and arms at the ready to strike, scanning his surroundings for his final enemy.

The unique sound of a Weskar pierced the stillness, the bolt whizzing past him so close his entire body tensed and back muscles flickered in preparation, only for the sound of a shutting down droid behind him to hit the ground. He turned back first, the glorified scrap metal sparking on the landing foot, and then he shot his head, pistols at the ready, in the direction the bolt came from.

There was a woman, half dressed in a body suit, leather boots, and a dressing gown now ruined by droid oil. Her hair of auburn red was messy like she had been woken up by the attack, her under eyes darker than Skywalker's, and in both hands, held up in surrender, were Weskar pistols not dissimilar to trainer Ko'saam.

“You Ylandra's sister?”

“I am.” She holstered her weapons in her approach to him, just as he did. “It's an honour to finally meet you, Captain Rex. Not only do your boys speak highly of you, but so does my cousin.”

“You're cousin?”

“Ko'saam.” She shrugged, the ship he stood beneath opening up. “Come on in. If that next wave comes before Commander Ace can start his plan, we're safe in here.”

There was nothing illogical about the idea, though he looked at her in perplexity beneath his helmet. “You always fight in pyjamas?”

“No,” she closed the hatch behind him and opened a secret compartment, “but my armour's in here.” He cast his gaze away as she stripped of her dressing gown - she was dressed underneath in her version of blacks, but out of respect he stared at the seats in the centre of the hold. “Know how to turn on the radars?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Keep an eye on what's going on outside that hangar door. I have a plan.”

Rex did as he was bidden, moving toward the cockpit and turning on the power. “Which is?”

“Blow up the dreadnought, obviously.”

He turned in surprise, staring at the doorway like she was more insane than Skywalker. “On your own?”

“No!” And she responded as if he was insane. “Don't be a wally.” And then she popped her head in. “Keep me posted on Seppie movement. I'm going to turn on the security weapons and then swap seats with you.”

“Roger that.”

She's insane.

“Captain Rex, start the take off.”

Rex balked. “But, Sir - Ma'am - you're-”

“Trust me!”

He had no idea why Ylandras were crazy - every instinct told him to buckle down and wait, but an order was an order whether he liked it or not. And good soldiers followed orders. Not that Ko'saam agreed entirely with the idea, but it was how clones were programmed. And so he did as he was told.

It took little time for the feet to lift, the engines humming and shields reinforcing in a series of nebulaic explosions of translucent colour u til the last hexagon was fitted - from the time it began, it was less than three seconds for it to fully form and become clear.

Amarantian tech was beautiful.

“Re-entering in two seconds. Beginning the closing of the ramp in three. Security online in two .” A warning sound hummed in the area, static igniting. “And the city will be shielded soon.”

At the sound of footsteps, he turned in the chair - she was in arnour designed by Mandalorians, but it wasn't Beskar: the hue was wrong. Too rosey hued with golden chrome to be Mandalorian Steel. Yet it was vastly different to the pyjama clad woman he first met; her very air changed, confidence in whay she was doing exuding through the metal plates.

She sat next to him and engaged the weapons - “Jesse's sent me the location of the droids. The 210th are pouring through into the other ships and getting the out of danger. Gives us time to set up our defence until Ace trips the trap.” Her expression was unreadable beneath the helmet. “Can you turn the ship around to face the back wall.”

“You plan on blowing a hole in your own building?”

“You have some really questionable ideas of me, Captain.” She pulled up a screen for a better visual. “Keep her steady… that's it.” She fell quiet - contrating. The ship moved smoothly into position, the remainig ships already in the air with the exception of the Jedi Fighter behind them, and then - “there the buggers are. Commander, they're in my sights. Should I put a hole in their ranks?”

“Hang. On.” Rex removed his helmet. “Are we sure it won't blow the place with us in it?”

“This place survived Sith bombardments - i'm sure it's fine.”

“Sir -”

“Have some faith, Rex. Skywalker would have planned something more insane.”

“That's not as comforting as it sounds.”

“Go ahead, Ma'am! Let them know we've found them.”

“With pleasure.”

The sound of the guns almost surprised him - clankers became pieces of scrap down a line, those not destroyed fracturing formation and becoming easy pickings for the 210th and the incoming 501st - but nothing readied him for the explosion of the otherwise normal republic ship. The inside of it had been revamped for battledroid use, as if a Seppies escape pod within a republic shell.

Blue lightsabers cut swiftly through clankers with expert timing, Aurora's more cyan than Skywalker's, and a flash of green would come and go between force shields.

Rex took the moment to do a head count of his men - thirty were on the ground in the hangar, another thirty Skywalker had sent off with the Wolfpack, Cody had taken another twenty, leaving sixty-four troops unaccounted for. Jesse hadn't been entirely specific on how many he had taken, but no more than thirty six.

Twenty-eight unaccounted. At least eight of those of Torrent Company were dead - they had been in front of him in a pincer strike when they were caught by a shell.

It was more than he had hoped, but less than he had expected once they touched ground.

He wasn't ready for a Teth rerun.

“You okay, Captain?”

“Rex.” He tilted her head in her direction. “You can call me Rex.”

“Peonia.” She held out a hand. He took it in greeting. “Peonia Ylandra, at your service.”

It was clear she found saying her first name odd, used to a shorter version, but he wasn't going to pry.

“I think I'm currently in yours.”

“I’m just following orders from my sister while relying on instinct.”

She made to swap seats, and he swiftly did so. Most of the buttons were the same as on ARC Fighters - on this occasion, it was clear they had images on. So new caps, some half worn, and others so worn pieces of paper with the written description on. And as she turned the ship to face the hangar doors, gearing into position she must have noticed.

“My cousin saved the clones Jango couldn't save from decomm. They did flight training this morning.”

I knew it was a rumour. Didn't know she was.

But it made sense. He recalled overhearing her argue with Prime a few months before the war started, something about him not trying hard enough with this particular group as he did with others. He didn't intend to overhear, but Ace was… protective and felt like something was ‘off’ with Prime and walked slower than usual down the corridor without ever stopping talking.

He was always too sharp to be fooled, and she looked like she had barely slept over the past year. Even for Rex, watching his trainer keep her eyes close on those across trainers she knew where struggling, wrapping ber troop (including him) in metaphorical bubble wrap so none were taken away - she was too soft for training clones the way Kaminoans thought it best. She was too human. Too organic. Too compassionate. Too much of a teacher that nurtures and not ruthless enough.

But she got results. She had respect. And she fought harder for Clones than anyone else.

He wasn't going to hate her for that.

“They do well?”

“You'll be able to see for yourself once the hangar doors open.” and with the flick of a switch, she was back within the mode of a civilian fighting to defend her nation. “Epsilon Squadron, name check.” A chorus of the 210th's pilots that came with them into the ships beside resounded - everyone made it. “Captain Arc, do you copy?”

“Roger. The rest of the squadron are in position and waiting.”

“General Ylandra in behind.”

“Sure you want to fly dad's ship?”

“A Jedi moves onward, always, even if it's hard. I've got your back against the dreadnaught.”

“For what it's worth, General,” Rex piped, “I'm glad.”

“Skywalker'll get Jealous.”

“Hangar doors will be ready for us to pass in ten seconds. Keep tight formation, two seconds between each exit, speed at fifteen until hangar exit… back co-pilots and gunners in position…”

Co-pilots? Rex looked over his shoulder. Gunners? The size of her ship wasn't the biggest fighter, but it worked as a small carrier. It felt too… big for just her and him.

“Weather report?”

“Heavy rain. Chance of icing in the upper atmosphere. De-ice before the warnings sound.” She began to ready the ship. “Cloud breaks can lead to affected vision, use your radar and instincts. Falling debris and shots fired. Flight beginning in three…. Two…. One…”

True to her word, once the hangar doors had opened enough for the ships to safely start leaving (so long as the were pinpoint accurate to limit Separatist forces from landing within), be saw the same ships he was used to his brothers using - far more than he knew Coruscant had sent out.

But he had no time to remain in awe.

“I… can't help but notice… it's just us.”

“You're my gunner, Rex.”

“And… what about a co-pilot?”

“If I need one, I'll wake the droid.”

He blinked. “Droid?” The shock and fear in his voice was not from a droid he had not seen, but from her evasive maneuver.” Spinning is not a good trick!

“It is when you're dofging, Captain. Now magnatise your boots. The rear guns are all yours.” He did as he was bidden, pressurised his armour as best he could, and hurried toward the opened hatch. “Amarantian Topaz splitting toward the dreadnaught in thirty.”

What the Kriff!? What do you mean we're splittin' off!?

“Captain Rex,” his comm echoed un the turret space, “I hope you've magnetised, because this is going to get hairy.”

“How much?”

“Destroying the turrets as I fly over them; use their smoke as a disguise. Going to need you keeping our backs clean.”

“And the droid?”

"Engineering cupboard.”

“Roger that.”

His legs wobbled. He had faired better than he had done in any ship Skywalker flew (for starters, he didn't have to mute his helmet so no one knew he was screaming as the headed to their possible dooms), but his hands carried a cramp that shot pain along his wrists when they weren't shaped to the triggers. The point that the corners if she ship were doubled shielded meant little to him - constantly feeling every close call was… less enjoyable in a ship where if you weren't pulverised on the way down, and if you didn't die grom the force of the air crushing lungs, it was a long way to death.

He had seen too many die like that. Found too many bodies barely recognisable from the impact.

“Captain Rex, you have my apologies for springing that onto you.” Peonia spoke differently outside of combat where no Amarantian civvie fought in their group. She walked differently, acted differently. Her back was even straighter than it had been, and she walked with an authoritative grace she must have had years to perfect. “I didn't expect you to remain like you did.”

“I'm a clone, Si-Ma'am. It's what I was made to do.”

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes cast the floor and her arms loosely folded as if she were cold, her shoulders low - relaxed over timid. “In Soirham - and the rest of Northern Amarantine, but Soirham in particular - we have a belief that a good warrior doesn't do things just because they are told, hut because the believe what they are doing is right. In Amarantian history, there have been good soldiers because they followed orders, but they lost their humanity in favour of apathy. Do not become soldiers that only follow orders - you will be no better than droids.”

“We follow the orders of Jedi. I don't see them doing anything like the Seppies.”

“They are in a situation they haven't been in for one thousand years, Captain. They wear plastoid over the armour of the predecessors. Their cire ideals are the same, yes, but their execution of them has evolved since. It will only be a matter of time before the weight of war turns one rotten. As it was a millenia ago, so shall it be again: the Sith Empire was more than a race and the dark side of the force. It was also Jedi who carried so juch compassion, that it turned and twisted in desperation and they began to fight against what they used to live and sought to destroy it.”

“Like Dooku.”

“Yes.” Rex took the time to examine her - she didn't look anyway except the floor, a timid show of fear and guilt. Of what or why, he didn't know. He was even sure he wanted to know; he didn't know her, didn't like stepping on toes, and he knew as much about Sith as he needed to: only worth ending. “That's why good soldiers aren't just those that do what they're told; it only makes them good servents.”

“Our job is to serve.”

“It's also to defend the Republic and its ideals. What good is defending its ideals if you're not allowed to use your ability to think for yourself, bevahse you're following orders just like a battlefroid? You aren't a meatdroid. None of you clones, and none of us fighting for the Republic are.”

Rex went to speak - to say that closes weren't tools like the battle droids were. It was what he had been telling himself for months. He couldn't. Whilst he didn't feel like the Jedi were using them as a tool, the treatment Civvies usually gave them didn't fit the propaganda leaflet.

“If you feel so strongly, why do you fight?”

“Clones, Jedi, and hapless civilians should not be the only ones fighting against Tyranny. The Republic has its fault - so does every government and every planet and every people - but it's the best we have as a collective. The Seppies claim to fight corruption, yet they don't know half the truth of what their armies have done to us. They say to be against corruption, yet they spread untruths like they did not once know that only the Sith of old stole children and liek they treat their forces any better than the senate treats you. I fight for the better cause, even with its flaws, because it's fixable.”

“If it wasn't?”

“What we have been doing for decades: defend it because it's ours, but lift our voices because it can do better.”

“And the Mandaorians here?”

“They don't like the Republic for valid reasons, but they understand the planet they've taken refuge on is under the republic. They don't fight for the Republic, but for the people that have taken them in and protect them, always, from Death Watch and corrupt officials.” Then, and with a casualty only of that which came from treating someone as an equal, she asked unexpectedly: “What are your thoughts on this war?”

He looked at her blankly. “Thoughts?”

“I'm not a General or an official of the Republic. Right now, I'm just a Civilian that can defend herself. I won't give away your secrets.”

He looked away for a moment, fingers holding his helmet tighter. “We… were only taught the bare minimum of the Republic's core ideals and our enemies. We don't know anything about the rest of the Galaxy, or other cultures. The Kaminoans…. Didn't like us being too well read.”

“I've seen the reports my cousin sent my father over the years. The Kaminoans certainly don't like being… tested by their creations.” Before He could stare at her with suspicion, she held up her hands. “We have a lot of species on the brink of extinction after millenia of messy history and over consumption, as well as general expansion. We're trying to save what we have for future generations. The Kaminoans made sense to us a number of decades ago; we had to get permission from the chancellor at the time. My father wanted information on how they treated their clones. Turns out you were the clones at the time.”

“For how long?”

“Since she was there.” She gave him a look, as if unsure why he looked surprised. “I may not be a Jedi, Rex, but I can sense various people and emotions through the force when they're stood next to me. My father always knew when we were lying. He never pried. Ko'saam had some… suspicions. She never said what was at Kamino until she decided she was tired of the Kaminoans, only that she was going.”

“So why did your father care so much about what was going on?”

“We were waiting for fifty griffon embryos, believe it or not. They can only be found in this country now, but their numbers are far too low. We hired them a few decades ago to make sure there was more of a genetic spread to stop any possible incestuous genetic passing.”

“Did you get them?”

“Yes. A decade late. Turned out the Kaminoans were busy with you guys.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don't be.” Her smile was as genuine as he had felt it could be - it met her eyes of moonlit silver, framed by a faint smudging of deep brown as if she missed some when she was washing her face before the attack came. “Your kin are a good bunch. Good hearts. Good souls. The Galaxy doesn't have enough of that.” She turned apologetic on him. “I'm sorry The Republic at large treats you so poorly. You deserve better treatment than that, so do The Jedi. But I'm not going to support something worse when there are people trying to make The Republic better, even with Palpatine in charge.”

“I… take it you don't like The Chancellor.”

“The better question would be what Amarantian not from Twinnington R.S, where the government of the Western Realm sits, does? But he blocks every attempt my brother has tried to get him off the seat because of these emergency powers I'm sure he made up.”

“Your emergency plans aren't?”

“Soirham's emergency powers is “if our parliament is tearing the place down, we shut it down, return the power to the monarch, and instantly do a general election ad a forced reset of Parliament; if the monarch no longer aligns with our ideals, what power they have goes to parliament and another monarch is elected. We haven't had to use it for six centuries - it is The Emergency Protocol to give full temporary power to whichever power isn't destroying democracy at that time.

"But three of the four heads of realms are in talks about exiling the Seppie supporter for many reasons, including attempted erasure of democracy, unethical deportations, putting unelected officials into seats of elected officials… and at least a hundred other things.”

He almost seemed impressed that a planet so caught in messy history could still unite under even one things when it felt The Republic nor Separatists could not. “That simple?”

“Not as simple as it sounds, and not saying it's not flawed, but much simpler than many and it's a treaty signed by every new government so everyone knows where they stand, and all are held accountable. Can't hold Palpatine to account when he's making up reasons to stay in that are excuses at best.” That's when the next question came. “What do you think of him?”

“It's… not my place.”

“Of course it is. You're a person loving in and fighting for The Republic. You don't have to like who leads it.”

Rex thought - really thought- on if he should answer. His opinion had only mattered to the handful of Jedi he had worked with, and none of it toward the deeper cause of the war. Being treated like his opinion on anything outside of the battleground was terrifying.

It meant being known.

“General Skywalker seems close with him.”

“The game of a politician in a seat of power over a… decent chunk of The Galaxy.” Her Vambrace beeped. She sighed, both in dread and secret relief. “Sorry, Rex. I have to feed the cats, the dogs, check the equines, and see if the griffons are still alive. Maybe I'll see you again?”

“It's… not impossible.”

“I better. I've got to prove to you I'm not as crazy as you think.

Rex wanted to be proven wrong. He knew that when he saw her walking away. Tookas, canines, griffons (whatever those were)... they way she spoke away from fighting. How she carried herself when she wasn't zoned into a job at hand…

He liked it. He liked her. Perhaps she was a civilian he would think about more than just another body slaughtered by clankers.