#sw request

Though the landscape in Erus is pretty, you’re not here for sightseeing. The GAR has sent you in replacement of Kix -who had been gravely injured in a prior mision and was still under recovery-, following Torrent Company on a mission to the planet. The objective seems simple enough: recover an ancient Jedi artifact -something tied to the history of the Force- believed to be hidden in Erus's deep jungles. The Jedi once had a strong presence here, and with the war raging, it's essential that the Republic secures anything that could tip the balance to their side. You're not quite used to this kind of field trips -you usually stay in the GAR's medical station in Coruscant- but it's not your first either, so you have little problem following the squad deeper into the jungle.

As you advance, the eerie quiet of the world around you grows. The sound of the wind, the soft rustle of the glowing leaves... and the feeling that the very earth is watching. The planet is not just strange—it's alive in a way that feels unnatural. Perhaps that's why the old Jedi stationed here; everything around you feels charged with energy.

Captain Rex leads ahead with his usual commanding presence. His armor gleams slightly in the dull light, and though his helmet hides his face, you know how focused he is. Rex is a warrior; and one of the best. He’s been on countless missions, fought in the thick of battle, and led his men through hell and back. You have only had the chance to share a few misions with Torrent -and personally tended to him back in Coruscant once-; but you don't need to have a close relationship with him to admire him. Everyone does. It's his quiet confidence. The way he makes decisions without hesitation, his calmness even in the face of danger. Loyalty, moral. Courage. There's something magnetic about him, something that makes you feel like everything will be okay as long as you're by his side.

Captain Rex holds a fist up; halting the line of clones following him, everyone growing instantly alert at the signal. The first humanoid aliens has stepped into view. You had studied as much as you had found about them before departure; though there was not much information about Erus's species -too far into the Outer Rim to hold much research- and even that would'nt have prepared you for seeing them in real life.

The aliens are tall—far taller than humans, half towering over you—covered in smooth, shimmering scales that reflect the ambient light in soft blues and greens. Their skin seems to pulse with a life of its own, glowing faintly as though some hidden power is radiating from beneath. Their faces are sharp and angular; their eyes narrow and focused with an unsettlingling look in them. Their clothes, if they can even be called that, are minimal; bands of rough, natural materials crisscrossing their bodies like a form of living armor.

At first, they appear to be watching from a distance. Curious, hidden among the trees and undergrowth. Then one of them steps forward. His movements are slow, deliberate, and every step seems to reverberate with some primal energy. It resonates with how alive the jungle feels. As he gets closer, you can smell him as well; a strange, musky scent, like the earth after a storm, mixed with something more... feral. His eyes scan the group of clones and suddenly lock onto yours. Something in his gaze makes your stomach drop. His stare isn’t just curious... It’s predatory.

The rest of the humanoid group moves in after the first alien; their eyes eventually falling in your figure, scanning you, lingering far too long. You tense, feeling a chill run through your veins as you realize just how much they're studying you. Everything inside you screams for you to run.

A voice breaks through the delicate, fragile silence.

“You... are not marked,” the first of the humanoids to approach says, his words dripping with something you can’t quite place—something that makes your heart speed up at the threath of unkown danger.

Muscles tense, your thoughts race. What does he mean? Marked? Why are Erus's strange habitants particularly focused on you and not the rest? You inevitably think of the obvious difference, and then it hits you: the mating season. You'd read about it, about how this creatures had a different cycle than what ovulation is for humans; theirs lasting a whole three months at a time. From the little information you had managed to find you had thought it to be a simple anatomical difference... But now you fear it’s not just that. It’s something you hadn’t considered at all.

Before you can react, one of the others takes a step closer. They seem taller and lankier now that they're this close to you; and you have to actually tilt your chin slightly up. The alien's eyes flash with a dangerous, hungry gleam.

“You are unmarked,” he echoes the first of them to interact, louder this time. “You belong to no one.”

His words are thick with meaning, and it dawns on you -horrifyingly-that they view you as prey. Not just a foreigner, not just a woman; but something to claim, to take during this time. That somehow, they're allowed to.

His voice doesn't hold the slight surprise of realisation of the first creature; but a grinning, victorious tone to it. The rest of the aliens seem to grow restless at this.

You can feel your heart racing in your chest, terror bubbling up in your throat. Panic seizes you, making it hard to breathe. This wasn’t part of the mission. You weren’t briefed on this. No one warned you about the danger.

Goosebumps rise all over your skin. You want -need- to get out of here.

Just as you're about to take a step back, you feel a powerful presence at your side; Rex. He moves in front of you, his posture rigid, protective. His voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

"Step back" the Captain commands, his voice low and cold.

His hand hover near his blaster, and every clone around you falls into a defensive stance; their weapons ready, but no shots fired yet.

The aliens hesitate. Based on how they're dressed and the lack of modern civilization the planet seems to hold, you'd bet they know nothing about blasters and military weapons. Perhaps they're just momentarily taken aback by Rex’s sheer force of presence and the obvious ready-to-fight position of the others.

“She...” the male alien sneers, sniffing the air in your direction with an almost invasive intensity. “Smell nothing like you. She is unmarked. She is ours to take now.”

The air grows thick with discomfort, but the Captain doesn’t falter. His voice, though calm, is filled with a deadly certainty.

“She’s with me,” he growls. “And no one is going to touch her.”

The alien looks from Rex to you and then laughs; a low, guttural sound that seems to shake the very air around you.

In other circumstances -if you were back in Coruscant-, you'd have faced without hesitation anyone who would have dared talked you that way; but here, in Erus, all the way out of the safety of the Core Worlds, the only thing separating you from these creatures is Torrent. You're forced to swallow your fears down and left watching.

“Now you're trying to claim her?” the creature scoffs. “Mating season will start in a few days. What do you expect, walking around with her like that, unmarked? You’re begging for trouble.”

The fear that grips you makes it hard to focus, hard to think. But Rex stands tall, unshaken, stepping closer to you as though to shield you from them all. You can see the anger and frustration building in his posture. He’s furious, and it’s almost as if he’s taking it personally.

He glances back at you briefly, his expression grim.

“We’re promised,” Rex tells the humanoid, his voice edged with tension. “We’re waiting to get married.”

The aliens break into laughter, mocking him.

“Humans” one of them chuckles, “and their strange customs.”

Thankfully, that does it. They back off, still smirking, still hungry, still watching; but the tension doesn’t fully leave. You feel your pulse still racing, your chest tight with the lingering aftershocks of the confrontation.

Rex stays close, his presence grounding, but there's something dooming in the air. You have the feeling it's not over yet.

2. TEMPORARY SOLUTION

The jungle sinks into a heavy silence as night unfurls above you, thick with stars that shimmer through gaps in the canopy like distant eyes watching from beyond. The air is damp, and somewhere in the darkness, undiscovered insects sing in eerie harmony. The squad sets up camp beneath enormous, vine-draped trees; the blue glow of the portable lamps casting soft halos across the clearing.

You're still rattled. The events of the day cling to your skin like sweat; every word, every stare from those aliens etched into your nerves. You try to focus on setting your medkit in order, organizing supplies, checking gear -anything to quiet the rising panic- but your hands tremble too easily.

Eventually, when the others are distracted -cooking rations, calibrating gear, checking patrol shifts- Captain Rex approaches.

You feel his presence before you see him. There’s something solid about him, like the calm eye in the center of a storm. He nods once, and you follow him without a word. You'd guessed he would want to talk to you at one point or another.

You walk a few meters away, the jungle swallowing up the rest of the world until it’s just the two of you beneath a towering, silver-leafed tree that sways gently in the night breeze. The dim bioluminescence from the leaves reflects faintly off his armor, painting him in ghostly hues of green and violet.

You take notice then that the glow of Erus's plants are similar to the colours of the humanoids skin; which means they would mimetize well in the rich landscape of the jungle. It only unsettles you further.

Rex stands rigid, arms folded across his chest, his jaw tight enough to crack durasteel. The expression on his face is unreadable, but his silence speaks volumes.

“That... was not okay,” he mutters eventually, his voice barely above the whisper of the wind. It’s raw. Honest. Uncomfortable, like he can't even start to talk about it but he knows he have to. “We should’ve been informed about this before we arrived. Someone should’ve warned us.”

You stare at the ground, your throat thick. You’re still trying to piece everything together; what the alien said, how close it came to escalating, how different everything feels now.

“I believe no one knew about this” you finally answer, quietly. “I researched all I could before departure, and though a mating season was mentioned in those articles, there was nothing of the... Nature of it. It has been a surprise for all”.

He looks at you, and you fight to hold his piercing gaze now that his eyes aren't hidden under his helmet.

“We can’t go back to Coruscant now,” he states, low and firm. “We need that artifact. We need to finish this mission. And Erus is too far away from everything to take you somewhere safer. But we can’t risk not taking precautions either. We'll be here for a while until we find the Jedi artifact. I don't want you being hurt because of their... traditions.”

The words land heavy in your chest. No returning home anytime soon. You nod slowly, the reality settling in. You get it. There's a mission at stake. Still, you're warmed at his last words, at how his voice turned worried and gentle.

You don't want to ask, but you have to.

“What can we do, then?” Your voice fills with determination, trying to find your courage.

You had sewed fatal wounds in the middle of oppen battlefields. You're not alone. You can push yourself through this.

Captain Rex drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. For a moment, the mask slips; just enough for you to see the frustration, the worry.

“I think the best option is to keep making them believe we’re together,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with the akwardness and necessity of the idea. “It seemed to work before. If they think you belong to me, they’ll back off.”

You blink at him, trying to push through the shock.

“A couple,” you repeat numbly.

The absurdity rings in your ears, and yet... there’s logic to it. A terrifying, necessary logic.

He nods, slower this time. More serious.

“We hold hands. Stay close. Act like we’re...” He hesitates. “Involved.”

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your neck inevitably.

“Kiss?” you manage to ask, voice breathless.

His eyes flick to yours, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something behind them—uncertainty? Guilt? Something unspoken. “If we have to.”

The thought makes your pulse trip. Not only because of the danger, or the lies you’ll have to tell, but because you'll have to pull off this theatre with him. Rex. The clone you've watched from a distance with quiet admiration. The galaxy-wide famous Captain. And now you have to pretend to be -with him- something more.

You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt. It must be hard for him; having to pull this ruse after doing the contrary and hiding any aspect of a personal life through all his years alive. Clones are soldiers. Clones are Republic property. It's terribly injust, but no one allows them to have much of a personal life and it must be weird to fake suddenly having one.

But Rex has already made up his mind.

“Alright” you whisper, nodding. “We can do that.”

Something in his expression softens. Just slightly. A glimpse of warmth beneath the captain's steel exterior.

“Good” he says. His voice lowers. “I know this must be scary for you, Doc, but I promise I'll keep you safe.”

The words settle in your chest like a vow. You nod again, too full of thoughts to speak. As the two of you return to camp, you walk just a little closer than before. And still, your mind spins. The brush of his hand. The weight of his words. You’ve barely shared more than a few missions together, but somehow, his presence already feels... significant.

You only hope it's significant for the aliens too.

3. PLAYING THE PART

Days pass in a haze of uneasy routine. The jungle remains wild and watching, and the tall, scaled creatures still hover at the edge of sight, always near, always aware. Whenever they approach, you and Rex play the part. You feel his hand curl around yours with practiced ease, warm and steady. You smile on cue, lean toward him when they’re looking, laugh softly at nothing just to sell the act.

At night, his tent becomes a fragile sanctuary. The two of you lie close beneath the hum of portable heaters -this jungle is surprisingly cold at night, you're not sure how that works-, wrapped in silence. You can hear the rustle of leaves above and the distant chirps of life, but none of it matters when you’re tucked into safety. Rex's body is warm beside yours, the faint scent of his skin mixing with the earthy smell of the jungle.

He never wavers. He’s protective, careful, utterly convincing. And you're more than gratefull; because the world outside this tent sees you as prey. Inside, though, the world feels smaller. A sliver of soft light filters in from the lamp just outside the entrance. You’re both stretched out on the floor mats, armor and gear stripped away, wrapped in the quiet exhaustion of a long day. You’re lying close, not touching; just near enough to feel his presence.

Your muscles ache from hours of climbing, crouching, and pushing through thick brush and collapsed ruins. The artifact still hasn’t been found, though Rex swears they’re getting close.

You’d believe anything he says in that calm, unshakable tone.

He shifts beside you, just enough that you can hear the faint rustle of fabric.

“Can I ask you something?”

His voice is quiet, low enough that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already listening for him.

You turn your head slightly, resting your cheek against your arm.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

A pause.

“Nova” he says. “Why that nickname?”

You blink, a little surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask something so... personal. No matter how you act in front of those creatures, you haven't really delved into personal conversations with Rex.

You glance over, but he’s still staring up at the tent ceiling, his profile carved softly by the outside light. There’s no teasing in his tone, just curiosity. He just wants to know.

You exhale slowly, thinking back.

“It started during the Ryloth campaign” you begin, voice quiet, almost carried off by the wind outside. “I was assigned to the Wolfpack then; first deployment fresh out of medical training. I was terrified. They were a close-knit unit, hardened, half of them carrying more scars than I’d ever seen.”

A smile flickers at the edge of your mouth, the memory unfolding like old paper.

“One of them, Boost, got shot clean through the side. Shouldn’t have made it, but I swallowed the nerves down, and he did. A few days later, same thing. They started calling me with that nickname, then, saying I was... Light in the worst moment, a second chance of living after a big boom”.

You pause, smiling fondly at the memory.

“I called them cheesy, but Nova stuck. I've grown to quite like it.”

Rex lets out a low chuckle. The kind that stays in his chest, that echoes in the comfort of friendly silence.

“That sounds about right,” he murmurs. "It's a good nickname. You're a great doc, you know. You have saved more than one of us more than once".

The compliment warms you, quiet and unexpected. You let it settle.

You lie like that for a little while, listening to the wind thread its way through the trees. You can almost forget where you are; the danger, the mission, the forced closeness of your arrangement.

But you’re not pretending now. And he isn't either. This isn’t a performance. This is just... him. And you. Bonding friends over personal stories.

“What about you?” you ask softly, your voice barely above the hum of the jungle. “If you could be anyone... do anything... what would you want?”

Another pause. This one longer.

You hear him exhale through his nose, a slow release of air. His voice, when it comes, is quieter than before.

“Being a father sounds good enough.”

You blink. The words land softly, but with surprising weight.

He doesn’t look at you. He just keeps staring upward, his features unreadable in the low light.

You hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not from any of them. Not from someone bred for battle, raised in the barracks, trained to follow orders until the end.

But there it is. The truth of it. Raw and aching and real.

Your chest tightens. You want to say something, but you don’t know how to answer something so honest. So... human.

Rex shifts slightly, as if realizing how much he’s revealed. “It’s stupid,” he adds after a moment, voice rougher now. “Doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t made for that. Wasn’t made to raise anyone. Just fight. Protect.”

His words fade into the space between you like mist.

You swallow against the lump in your throat, heart twisting with something you can’t quite name.

“It’s not stupid,” you whisper. “It’s... beautiful.”

He doesn’t respond, but the silence that follows feels softer now. Warmer.

“I think you’d be a great dad, Rex,” you say, barely breathing the words.

His hand, resting on the mat beside yours, shifts just slightly. Not touching, but close. You can feel the heat of his skin, the strength in his stillness.

Outside, the jungle keeps singing. Inside, the space between you has never felt so alive.

4. IN NEED OF A HUG

The distant calls of unseen creatures echo through the thick canopy, but even they seem muted compared to the tense silence surrounding your camp. The aliens haven’t spoken to you since the first encounter, but their eyes speak enough. You feel them. Watching. Waiting. The way their gazes linger too long, too focused—predatory and assessing. Hoping they'll catch you alone sometime.

You shift uncomfortably on your feet as you glance around. The humidity clings to your skin, thick and suffocating.

Rex stands just a few feet away, deep in discussion with Jesse, both of them scanning a datapad, pointing toward the glowing topographic map of the jungle.

"If we circle around sector 9 and sweep back through the ridge, we'll cover more ground without backtracking—"

You barely register the rest of his sentence.

You move closer, your steps quiet against the spongey earth, until you’re beside him. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His attention is all strategy and terrain and logistics. But you feel uncomfortable, like you want to scratch their dark hungry stares off of your skin.

Wordlessly, you lean in. The gesture is slow, uncertain. You press your side against his; your arm slipping behind his back in a loose, hesitant hug. Just enough to show a physical sign. A warning. You're with him and no one else.

Rex had told you to look after him and do whatever was necessary to feel comfortable, so here it is.

The Captain's eyes shift toward you, and in that small, shared glance, everything makes sense. The unspoken request in the way you lean against him.

Without hesitation, his arm comes around you, steady and warm. His hand lands gently on your shoulder at first, then slides in a slow, protective motion across your back, drawing you a little closer. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he picks up the conversation again with Jesse like nothing happened, as if this closeness has always been natural.

“ —If we time the recon right before sundown, we might avoid crossing into those unstable riverbeds. I'd prefer not to get near those at night”

You stay pressed to his side, the heat of his armor warming your skin. His touch doesn’t just ward off the aliens; it grounds you. Anchors you. His thumb makes slow, almost absent circles as he speaks, and though the conversation moves on, your mind is caught in the quiet storm of his touch.

Rex holds you like you belong there. Could you?

5. WORK TIME

Later that day, the sky turns an inky shade of violet, streaked with copper from the setting suns. A few clones are gathered near the campfire, resting after a long day of slicing through jungle brush and dealing with the oppressive humidity.

A murmur cuts through the ambient sound.

“Nova,” Hardcase calls from a few meters away, limping toward the med tent, grimacing. “I think I twisted something.”

You’re already moving before he finishes the sentence, the medic in you slipping into place like muscle memory.

Your voice is calm, practiced.

"Alright. Sit down, let me see".

Hardcase lowers himself onto the crate you drag over, pulling off his boot with a hiss of pain. His ankle is swollen, flushed with heat. Not broken, but it needs care.

You clean, assess, wrap, and brace with efficient hands, murmuring quietly to keep him calm.

“It’s just a sprain. You’ll be limping for a couple of days, but it’ll hold. Try not to put your weight on it. We still have plenty of jungle to explore, so perhaps we can make you some improvised crutches so you don't aggravate the injury while we do that”

Rex watches from a short distance away, leaning against the trunk of a bioluminescent tree. He says nothing, but he sees everything.

The way you kneel before the injured clone, brows furrowed in focus. The careful way you tie off the bandage, checking it twice. The faint frown of concentration, the softness in your voice. How gently your hands move, like this is sacred work. Like they are sacred. Like they matter.

He watches the way Hardcase nods and relaxes under your touch. The way you make pain seem like less of a burden just by being near.

You finish wrapping the ankle, giving Hardcase a pat on the knee and an encouraging smile. “I'll give you some bacta cream for that, use it three times a day until the inflamation goes down. I’ll check how you’re doing tomorrow. You should go get some rest.”

Hardcase grins.

“Thanks, Doc. Good to know you're not just pretty."

You chuckle softly, brushing hair from your face as you stand. You joke with him, finally sending him on his way.

Across the fire, Rex’s eyes haven’t left you. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—soft, but intense. Like he’s seeing something he’s been trying not to let himself feel. Something that scares him a little with how much he wants it. Because this is all pretend, right? He can't even think on wish for this.

You glance over your shoulder and meet his eyes. He doesn’t look away.

You smile inmediately, bright like the sun, and wave a hand at him, ignorant to the mess of contradicting thoughts and feelings swirling in his mind.

6. KISS THE DANGER AWAY

The mission has been advancing steadily despite the rising tension. Each day, Torrent Company pushes deeper into the dense jungle, using old Jedi maps, fragmented temple records, and scanning equipment calibrated to pick up residual Force signatures. The artifact they're searching for is hidden somewhere in the heart of the planet, where the foliage grows so thick it blocks most aerial recon.

The clones mark each cleared area on holomaps with precise efficiency. Now, after nearly a week of searching, only a few sectors remain unexplored; narrow canyons tangled with silver vines and strange energy readings. The sense that they're close is palpable, and so is the pressure. Whatever lies buried here, it’s old, powerful, and almost calling, wanting to be found.

Where the jungle once was eerily silent, it has now grown louder. You see some big colourful felines here and there; adding to the eyes of the creatures who study you. Each day closer to the peak of the mating season feels heavier; like the air around you is brimming with unspoken hunger. The humanoids move differently now. Less guarded. Bolder. Their bodies seem to pulse with a kind of feral energy that makes your skin crawl.

You've seen it; what they do when they think no one's watching. A silhouette against the glow of dusk, a rhythmic movement behind a tree, low moans muffled by the chirping birds and the buzzing of insects. It's not romantic. Somehow, you think the females of their species seem to enjoy it -perhaps the hormones that induce desire peaks at the same time as the males too, you're not sure- but still... It's primal. You haven't got that biological -sort of coping- system. And it's terrifying.

You're walking back from the edge of the temporary camp when a second encounter happens. The squad is gathered loosely, some talking, others packing gear; but Rex is in the middle of a terse discussion with one of the humanoid creatures. The alien male towers over him, his voice low but growing more aggressive with each word. Rex clenches his jaw, tense.

Your steps falter, instinct pushing you toward Rex. You don’t need translation to know this one doesn’t care about diplomatic arrangements or fake bonds. Rex's scent is not enough layered on you, and his gaze on you is dark, invasive. Hungry.

The Captain’s body shifts subtly, placing himself in front of you without even turning his head. His voice is sharp now, warning. But alien sneers, his eyes still locked on yours, and takes a half-step forward.

Rex doesn’t give him the chance to do anything else.

Without warning, without hesitation, he turns, one arm curling around your waist as he pulls you to him. And then...

His mouth is on yours. Not a brush. Not a fake peck for show. A kiss. Full and sure and utterly grounding.

You freeze.

For a heartbeat, your mind goes blank. His lips are warm and firm against yours, the stubble of his jaw brushing your skin. His hand, large and calloused, cradles the back of your head as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

The way he kisses you holds so many emotions, such passion, that you wonder for a sliver of a second if he's possesed by that same need to mark and claim like the rest. Only... Only you'd let him; and it makes goosebumps of nervous pleassure to erupt, not of disgust or fear.

You melt against him. Your fingers grip the front of his armor, clutching instinctively, grounding yourself in him. The heat of his chest seeps through the fabric between you, and you lean in, letting the kiss deepen. His other hand slides lower, resting against the small of your back. He’s solid, real, and for a second, everything else vanishes.

There are no hungry stares. No missions. No fear. Just the press of Rex’s lips, the way he exhales softly through his nose like he’s been holding that breath for too long. The way your heartbeat stumbles, and then races.

He pulls away slowly, almost reluctantly, his lips brushing yours one last time before he looks at you.

His expression is unreadable at first—stoic, intense—but his eyes flicker with something deeper. Something softer. As if even he didn’t expect it to feel like it has.

You blink up at him, lips still parted, still tasting the ghost of him on your mouth.

The humanoid growls low in his throat.

The message is clear. She is not yours.

“That'll save you for now... But if you think just a little kiss will stop our advances in full mating season, you're very wrong.”

Threat thrown, the alien backs off, retreating without another word.

Your fingers are still clutching the Captain's armor. His hand remains on your lower back, thumb tracing small, unconscious comforting circles.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Didn’t mean to surprise you like that...”

“It's okay. I'm glad you did” you whisper, before you can stop yourself.

A flicker of surprise crosses his face. Then… something else. Pensive. Warm.

Neither of you move for a long moment. The noise of the jungle fades back in slowly, like the world is returning to motion. But you don’t really care.

7. ONE STEP CLOSER

The squad moves cautiously through the dense undergrowth, scanners in hand, their soft beeps and pulses the only sounds beyond the chirps and distant calls of unseen creatures. You glance down at the holo-map flickering on your wrist; only five more sectors left to cover before the mission might finally be complete.

Two hours later -your leg muscles starting to ache-, the scanner emits a sharper ping, more insistent. Rex signals a halt. Everyone freezes, eyes darting expectantly through the shadows. By now, the trip has been enough and everyone wants to go back to Coruscant.

“Signal’s stronger here” Rex murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Could be the artifact.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding with a mix of hope and aprehension. Torrent fans out, moving carefully toward the source of the signal, leaves crunching softly under their boots.

Then, from the thick brush ahead, a sudden rustle. Several humanoid figures emerge, their eyes wide and wild, faces flushed with agitation. One of them snarls, stepping forward, teeth bared in a threatening grin.

“Unmarked. Ours.”

Your pulse races, but not like before. Tragical, but you've kind of grown used to this. Instinctively, you press closer to the Captain's side; but you tilt your chin up, eyes not wavering under the agresive stare of the creatures.

Blasters hum to life. Rex steps forward, calm and commanding.

“Back off.”

But the creatures don’t yield easily. Mating season starts in three days, and they're more out of control than ever. The jungle erupts in chaos. Blaster fire lights the dim forest, shadows flickering wildly across twisted roots and hanging moss.

At Rex's command, Torrent moves. It's a defensive formation, keeping every attacker away. The objective is clear; you're too exposed here, and probably outnumbered. You might manage to kill some, but it's only a matter of time until they show payback. And Rex won't lose any brother unnecessarily when they can just move forward and change of sector if they run fast enough.

They make it. They cross a river to one of the four last sectors left to explore; and the humanoids that chase them finally give up. There's more females around, and you're not that much of a price.

At night, everyone is exhausted after setting camp. You skirt the makeshift perimeter quietly, slipping through the shadows to find a spot to relieve yourself. The air still warms your lungs; but it starts to feel colder on your skin.

As you move, eyes adjusting to the dim light, something caughts your attention not far ahead; a small figure, crouched low near a silvery tree. The shape is smaller than the other humanoids you’d seen until now; and there is a sort of fragility in its posture, as if wounded, and that makes you pause.

You should be careful. Being alone out here isn't completely safe, no matter how close to the tents you are. This creatures are fast. They'd out-runned you if you tried. Still, you trust your gut. He doesn't feel threatening or agressive. And you're a doctor; you know it will weight on your consciense to walk away. Thankfully, you still keep your blaster strapped to your thigh.

Tentatively, you raised your voice, friendly but clear.

“Hey… Do you need some help?”

The alien gets startled, its large eyes widening with fear. A faint whimper escapes him, as if he wanted to say yes but didn’t know wether to actually accept.

This could be a trap, but you still have your blaster with you, so slowly, cautiously, you step closer. Well, at least the wound is not fake...

“That must hurt,” you whisper, examining it from your standing position just two meters away.

The alien nods, eyes filled with pain. He seems to relax upon seing you, at least at first sight, don't pose much of a threat.

“Yes… I was just trying to find myself some dinner when I got caught in the fight before. The light…" he whispers, confused. "It got me. I’ve never seen a wound like this. I don’t know what to do.”

You nod.

“It’s a blaster wound" you explain, remaining calm. "The good thing is that you don't lose much blood, it cauterizes almost inmediately. I'm a medic. I can help you, but you’ll have to come back to camp with me.”

The creature flinches, fear evident in its gaze. It's so vastly different than the hungry, dark stares from before that you start to wonder... Is this alien really a male?

“If you’re not aggressive, it’ll be okay" you assure softly.

After a long moment, the humanoid nods again and struggles to stand. You still don't trust him enough to walk side by side, but you take your time going back towards the center of the camp, pausing when he needs it.

“You’re a female, right?” you ask her as you're approaching the first tents.

The alien nods slowly. You hum thoughtfully. She doesn't seem emotionally unstable like her counterparts. You wonder if her hormones will peak up in exactly three days instead of being a progressive escalate.

Rex suddenly appears blaster raised and ready. He looks determined, jaw clenched in controlled anger, fear and something else hidden in his eyes.

The female alien lets out a scared whine, shrinking back.

Quickly, you raise a hand.

“She’s hurt." you explain to him, voice calm, face serene. "I’m helping her. Please, trust me.”

Rex’s eyes narrow, studying the scene carefully. After a tense pause, he lowers his blasters slightly, though his gaze remains sharp and cautious. You shoot a reassuring smile at him.

You ask another clone to bring your medkit, knowing Rex wouldn't want to leave your side until the creature was far gone. You then kneel down, opening your medkit and working efficiently to clean and dress the blaster wound. The other clones watch silently, their expressions unreadable but tense.

When you finish, the alien gives you a small, grateful nod and whispers a warm thank you, slipping quietly away into the shadows, disappearing as silently as she had arrived.

Rex watches the alien leave, instructs the clones to keep a longer watch for tonight, and then turns to you with contradiction clear on his face. Mosty, though, he looks relieved.

A few minutes later, when you're both inside your shared tent, Rex rolling out the mat on the floor, he makes a humming comment, eyes reflecting the flickering of the lantern light.

“Not everyone would have helped those trying to hurt us.”

Cleaning as much as possible of the sweat and the dirt of the day away with a wet cloth, you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words.

“This one wasn't trying to hurt us. Anyhow... I can’t ignore someone in pain. No matter who it belongs to” you reply softly, the compassion of a medic threading through your voice. “If I can, if it's in my hand to help, I'll always step forward. This galaxy has too much hate already. We need people that favor peace.”

Rex nods slowly, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual stoic posture, now revealed without his armour to hide it. You can't help but think on how homey, how normal, Rex looks in normal clothes.

“It was scary” he says, voice low, focusing on laying out his bed roll on top of the mat. “Seing one of them right next to you after the encounter we had today.”

You study the sliver of emotions you can see in his face. A tiny smile makes it's way on your face; he looks almost like a kid who is confesing something he's not proud to admit.

“I'm sorry. I'll try to give you a heads up next time.”

Rex sits down on his bed roll and tilts his head.

“Should I be worried with you already stating there will be a next one?”

You laugh quietly. Rex smiles. It's a rare thing. You're used to seeing his face morph in all kinds of worries and decissiveness, perhaps even a few smirks; but not like this, not a simple, tiny, real, and beautiful smile.

You throw your now dirty cloth in the bag of your to-wash clothes and put it back in your backpack, abandoning it in the corner of the tent, next to the entrance. Then, facing him, you sit down on your own bedroll too.

“Mating season starts in two days.” he points out, after a few moments of silence. “Are you scared?”

You hesitate, then admit.

“A little. They've been backing off with what we have been doing until now, but they still repeat that I'm not claimed yet and I don't know how much of a rational mind they'll have then. I know you guys will protect me but... Things could go south. I don't like it. And I don't know what else we can do to make them think otherwise.”

Rex’s expression tightens. He knows you are all at risk as well.

“Maybe...” he hesitates, but upon seeing you looking at him, at your encouraging nod, he clears his throat and continues. “Maybe we shoud start sleeping together in the same cot. Same sleeping bag. I'm sure you'll smell more like me that way… It might keep them off.”

A flush warms your cheeks at the suggestion, heart thudding hard. The idea feels intimate, and theater appart, it sends butterflies to your stomach. But he doesn't need to know that.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

Because feelings aside, it is. It's impossible for the creatures not to smell the captain's scent on you if you're sleeping pressed together for hours. If anything, you should have thought of it earlier, no matter how akward.

Rex hums and opens his bedroll, laying down on it and keeping it open for you, gesturing for you to join him with a move of his head. You follow his offer, carefully taking a place beside him and trying to ignore how warm his body feels pressed side by side to yours.

He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly along your arm. The contact sends an electric current through you. Your eyes meet. This close, you can't help but remember the kiss. You want to experience it again; but it might be too dangerous, to delve into this when no one is looking, when there's no act to play.

You conform with shifting closer, laying on your side. His arm slowly curves around your shoulders in the same temptative way, threadding the line; a steady weight, a promise of protection.

Your bodies slowly fit together in the small space of the Captain's bedroll.

You can feel his breathing gently fanning over the top of your head; smell the scent of his skin mingling with the damp earth outside. Every heartbeat feels louder, every touch divided between accidental and intentional. Wrapped in his embrace, the world outside fades away; replaced by the simple, undeniable truth of being held safe.

8. MORNING AFTER

The jungle is still draped in a bluish haze when you stir.

At first, you’re not sure where you are; your head tucked beneath a firm chin, legs tangled, an arm draped around your waist like it’s its natural place. Then you smell him; warm skin, faint metal, and the underlying scent of sweat and the jungle. And you remember. Rex. The bedroll. His arms around you all night, and not letting you go once.

You don’t move right away. Neither does he. His breathing is slow, even. One of your hands rests against his chest, and you can feel the steady thump of his heart beneath it. Calm. Steady. Comforting.

Eventually, you shift slightly, just enough to tilt your head back and glance up at him. His eyes are already open. He’s watching you quietly, sleepy but alert. You wonder how long he’s been awake.

“Morning,” you murmur, kind of groggy.

A small smile touches the edge of his mouth.

“Hey” his voice is still deliciously raspy from sleep.

You both lie there in silence for a moment longer, neither one quite ready to let go of the quiet bubble you’ve found. Outside the tent, the camp is beginning to stir; distant voices, the shuffle of boots, the crackle of someone prepping rations over a heat plate.

You sigh, reluctantly pulling back.

Rex lets you go slowly, his hand brushing down your back before releasing you fully, as if comitting to memory.

As you sit up and begin reaching for a new shirt, he catches your wrist gently.

“Wait.”

You glance back, brows raised.

He leans up on one elbow and then reaches to his own pack, rummaging through it for a second before pulling out one of his undershirts. It’s soft and worn, the fabric thinned in places. He holds it out to you.

“Another idea... For the scent thing.” he akwardly states.

You stare at the shirt in his hand, then at him.

“You want me to wear your clothes” you say, lips twitching with the start of a smile. It's just too fun to tease him, you can't let the oportunity pass.

“It’s for strategy,” he reminds you, too quickly, though the flush in his cheeks gives something else away. It's sweet, to see him flustered like a boy and not the soldier he is.

Your smile deepens, warm and slow. You take the shirt from him, letting your fingers graze his on purpose.

“Okay,” you say softly. “I'll wear it then. For strategy.”

You turn slightly to slip out of your top, carefully avoiding the open tent flap, ignoring the weight of his eyes fixed on your naked back for the few seconds you take to pull the worn fabric of his shirt over your head. It falls to your thighs -hiding the shorts you've got underneath- like a small dress, the sleeves practically swallowing your hands. It does smell like him.

You glance back to find him watching you. His gaze lingers on your legs, your arms, the way the fabric drapes against your skin. He swallows, as if you're an ethereal thing to watch, and you try to ignore the way your stomach flips.

“How do I look?” you ask playfully, but your voice is quieter than intended.

His eyes lift to meet yours.

“You pull it off better than me” he says, changing to a light tone as well, and you chuckle and turn around to search for proper trecking pants and your boots to wear.

“We should eat before the squad thinks we’re off doing something scandalous.” you joke, quickly changing into your new clothes and lacing up your boots as tight as you can without them hurting you.

“We kind of are,” he mutters, sitting up and reaching for a new set of clothes before he slips into his armour as well.

You smile to yourself. You forgot how just this, sleeping with a woman in the same bedroll, in a GAR mission no less, could be considered scandalous for someone like him.

You both step out into the waking camp. You're chirper than usual; but a nagging thought swirls in the back of your brain. This closeness will end in less than a week, when you've found the artifact and return to Coruscant. It dampens your mood a bit for the rest of the morning, though you distract yourself joking around with the boys from Torrent. Everthing will turn out okay.

9. SCARS AND RUINS

The jungle is quieter today, as if holding its breath. The usual clicks and calls of wildlife still echoes through the canopy, but they feel distant; muffled somehow, by the ancient stillness of the place.

You’ve been hiking for hours already, weaving through tangled undergrowth and climbing over slippery stones. Your boots are soaked, your lower back and shoulders aches, and you are absolutely certain that at least three bugs have made a new home in your clothes. And for the record, you absolutely hate bugs. But oh well, life is hard sometimes.

Rex comes to a stop by the half-collapsed remnants of a stone archway, some forgotten monument swallowed by vines and time. He glances back at you and the others, reading the exhaustion in your faces. Somehow, he only looks slightly out of breath, which is highly unfair.

“Ten-minute break,” he calls. “Hydrate. And no wandering.”

You drop your pack with a theatrical groan and flop down onto a dry-ish rock beside him. You set down your backpack between your feet on the floor.

“If I get one more vine wrapped around my leg, I’m going to actually scream.”

Rex chuckles, low and warm. He sits down to rest as well, eyes wandering around Torrent.

“You did sign up for an Outer Rim mission” he points out, as if that doesn't give you an excuse to complain.

“I signed up to keep you lot alive” you correct him, getting rid of the sweat on your forehead and chin. “I didn’t know there’d be so much mud and… weird pollen in my mouth.”

He smirks.

“You did get hit in the face with that gigantic flower.”

You narrow your eyes.

“It exploded into my face, thank you.”

“You looked like a rainbow sneezed on you” he says, laughing now.

You lean back on your hands, grinning.

“Glad I could entertain the troops.”

As the laughter settles, your gaze driftes down to his shoulder, where his armor gaps slightly at the seam of his blacks. There, peeking just above the fabric and crawling up towards his neck, you find the jagged edge of a scar. Pale and deep. You hum quietly.

“That one looks like it hurt” you say gently.

He follows your gaze and rolls his shoulder a little.

“Yeah. Christophis. Shrapnel. I was lucky.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“That's lucky?”

Rex shruggs.

“Still alive, aren't I?”

You lean a little closer, tilting your head.

“You ever count how many scars you’ve got?”

“No... I would have to be pretty bored.” He paused. “Or drunk.”

You roll up your sleeve, revealing the thin white scar along your forearm.

“This one is probably my favorite. Plasma burn. Commander Wolffe got trapped in an engine fire. Sinker and I grabbed him just in time, but my glove lit up like fireworks.”

He whistles low, examining the puckered skin.

“That’s a nasty one.”

“I cried for a solid hour after” you admit, mock-proud. “Kix had to bribe me back in medbay with chocolate.”

Rex gently brushes his fingers along its edge.

“Well, at least it looks like it healed fine.”

Your heart skips with the featherlight touch.

“Not like I like the pain in that moment, obviously, but I like how most scars reminds me I did something right.”

The Captain's expression turns serious, softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“You’ve probably saved more brothers than I’ll ever know. Thank you.”

“Least I can do” you sigh. “Considering you clones are fighting this war for us”.

There is a beat of silence. Just long enough to feel heavy, but not uncomfortable. Then you grin, leaning into the banter again.

“So what you’re saying is… I’m basically a medical legend.”

He rolls his eyes with a tiny, tiny smile that feels like a victory.

“A legend that gets slapped by a plant every ten minutes and snorts pollen like cocaine.”

You shove him lightly, mockinly offended, and he chuckles, catching himself before falling off the rock you're both resting on. When he looks at you again, there's a light in his eyes, something easy and warm.

Eventually, he stands up and offers you a hand.

“Come on” he tugs on his backpack. “Let’s finish up this sector before lunch.”

You let him pull you to your feet, ignoring the electricity you feel when your fingers brush.

By afternoon, the jungle is heavy with mist and buzzing life, every leaf dripping with condensation and the low, rhythmic calls of birds echoing through the canopy. You and the rest of the squad are trudging through the last mapped sector; after this, the mission will be considered complete.

Rex walks beside you, his steps steady but relaxed. His gloved fingers brush yours every now and then as you walk, and you wonder if he does it on purpose. If the others notice. Maybe you’re both too used now to staying close. Maybe neither of you wants to stop.

“Hard to believe we’re almost done” you comment, swiping at the sweat on your brow.

“Yeah” he agrees. “Just this sector and we can stop pretending we like camping.”

You laugh quietly.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve grown very attached to sharing a bedroll with someone who hogs all the warmth.”

Rex glances at you sideways, his expression unreadable under the helmet, but you can tell by the way his shoulders shake that he’s stifling a laugh. At the start of this mission, you'd have never believed you could make Captain Rex laugh. More than once.

“You’re the one who practically body slammed me last night when the temperature dropped” he repplies. “I think I’ve got bruises.”

“Not my fault your chest makes a very good pillow” you shrugg uncomitedly.

He huffs out a chuckle.

“Next time we’re on a jungle mission together I’m requesting individual cots.”

“You’ll miss me.”

“Yeah” he admits, deadpan. “I’ll miss getting elbowed in the ribs every two and a half hours.”

You are half-tempted to stick your tongue out of him. You end up controlling yourself because you're not a kid, but a professional.

“At least I don't talk in my sleep” you reply, shooting him a grin.

Rex raises an eyebrow.

“I did?” he sounds more surprised than anything.

“Oh yeah” you nod emphatically. “Lots of ‘flank left’ and ‘cover me, Jesse.’ Some ‘Drop it, Fives’. Really romantic stuff.”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Remind me to never fall asleep first again.”

The banter fades into companionable silence as you both step carefully around a patch of glowing fungus. Up ahead, Echo and Jesse are scanning the terrain with a portable holomap, the flickering blue projection glowing softly in the shade.

“It should be somewhere around here” Jesse calls out. “If the historical topography is accurate, there should be a cave system just beyond that ridge.”

“Let’s get this done with” Rex says, his voice slipping back into command with natural ease. “I can't wait to enjoy a proper shower.”

The climb is short but steep, and by the time you reach the ridge, the sun is peeking through the trees just enough to light the entrance to a half-collapsed cave, hidden behind a thick curtain of vines and moss. It doesn’t look like much, just another forgotten crevice in the alien jungle, but the second you step inside, the air shifts, colder and heavier.

The others fan out, helmets on, blasters ready. Rex stays close to your side.

At the center of the cave lies a stone pedestal, ancient and cracked, but still upright. Nestled on it, surrounded by an eerie pale glow, is a small crystalline object, pulsing faintly like it has a heartbeat of it's own.

“That’s it,” Rex murmurs, staring at it with a mix of awe and caution.

You nod, heart thudding. “The artifact indeed.”

10. END OF ACT

The transport hums steadily beneath you, a low vibration that carries through the floor into your boots and bones. The jungle is long behind, reduced now to memory and the occasional smear of mud still clinging to the soles of armor. Inside the ship, the clone troopers are sprawled in different states of exhaustion and relief; helmets off, banter low and easy, the heavy burden of the mission finally lifted from their shoulders. Another victory for the 501st. For Torrent. For Rex.

The Jedi artifact rests in a sealed crate at the back, guarded but dormant. One more relic saved from slipping into darkness. One more needed help to the war against the Separatists.

You’re strapped into the seat beside the Captain, both of you tucked into the shadows near the viewport. Stars stretch into long, elegant trails outside as the ship speeds toward Coruscant. The journey back home has begun, and you can't help but think on how this closeness to Rex is probably about to end. Well, maybe after this you can manage to at least be friends.

He exhales beside you, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His armor is scuffed and scratched, and his buzzed hair has actually grown quite a bit in this month, creating a tiny gradient from darker roots to bright tips. He glances your way, catching your eye with the smallest curve of his lips.

“So” he starts, voice low enough not to carry beyond your row of seats. “Do I get my bedroll back now, or have we reached joint custody?”

You laugh, quiet but genuine.

“Hmm, that depends. Are you going to miss it?”

Rex smirks, looking forward again. You fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Around you, the others are laughing at something Fives said, but it all feels distant; like you and Rex are in your own little space between the stars.

Then, a little quieter, more serious he calls.

“Nova” he starts, your nickname falling from his lips with unusual care. “Back on Erus... There was some things I did for necessity...”

You look at him, the flickering starlight catching in his bright eyes. There’s a vulnerability there, and your heart speeds up at the possible endings and implications of that phrase.

“But not everything. Not all of it.”

Your breath trembles with expectations and nerves. The truth has been lingering between you for days, maybe somewhere between the first side-hug under alien eyes and the first kiss. In the soft, temptative brushes of each others hands. On the hesitant cuddles at night.

“That's good to know” you whisper, smiling vulnerably too. “I'm not a good actor either.”

Rex shows you a tiny hopefull and relieved smile. He shifts slightly, his arm brushing yours, and when your hands rest on the seat between you, tentative, hesitant, his fingers find yours. He doesn’t grip, not right away, just lets the contact exist. Like a question he wants you to answer.

And you do, lacing your fingers together and accepting it with a soft squeeze.

The hum of the ship continues around you, the laughter of the others blending with the engine’s steady rhythm. But it’s quiet between you and Rex now, a different kind of quiet than before. One filled with unsaid things that don’t need words yet. You’ve both come through something strange, something dangerous and… something unexpectedly human.

Outside the viewport, the stars rush by, drawing you both home. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you're heading towards a beggining, not just an ending. A future unwritten. Glancing up at Rex's face, that knowledge sends an exciting warmth throw your veins.

The compartment was little more than a narrow storage space tucked between two sections of corridor. A few old supply crates occupied one wall. Dust lingered in forgotten corners; exposed pipes running overhead, disappearing into shadows near the ceiling.

The air smelled faintly of metal... And your own misery.

You sat on the floor with your knees pulled tightly against your chest, arms crossed over them in a hug that tried to keep everything together.

At some point, you'd stopped trying to keep the tears quiet. There wasn't anyone here to hear them anyway, and you were sort of in an uncontrolled panic attack. Your heart burned, and you had to resist the urge to claw it out of your chest.

The argument replayed endlessly in your head. Every word. Every look. Every moment that had somehow spiraled into another fight.

You still didn't understand what you'd done wrong. That was the worst part. You genuinely didn't know.

One moment everything had seemed normal. The next he had gone cold. Dismissive. Sharp.

Every answer you'd given had apparently been the wrong one.

Every attempt to fix things had somehow made them worse.

And then he'd left, leaving you alone with the awful feeling that somehow, once again, you had failed a test whose rules nobody had bothered explaining.

A shaky breath escaped you.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes.

Force, you were tired. Not physically, not the sort of exhaustion sleep could solve. You were tired of trying. Tired of second-guessing every conversation. Tired of wondering whether today would be a good day or a bad one.

You just didn't seem to get it right. All your good intentions were twisted in the end, all your words a problem, and you couldn't understand how it all went so wrong no matter how fucking hard you actually tried. What else could you do? What more could you give when you had already given it your all?

Another tear slipped free despite your efforts. You hold your head in your hands, nails pressing hard into your temples while your mind circled around "what more can I do" and a desperate "I don't understand". You whined in pain, unconsciously scratching the sides of your forehead until the skin turned red.

The sound echoed strangely in the cramped compartment.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. A Jedi Knight reduced to crying in a closet. Master Kenobi would probably have something wise to say about that.

The thought almost made you smile. Almost.

A muffled sob escaped instead.

And then— Footsteps. The sound echoed faintly from the corridor outside. Steady, measured, and approaching.

Your heart dropped. No. Please no. Not now. Not right now, Force please...

The footsteps slowed and stopped directly outside the door.

Silence. Then a knock.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course. Of course someone had to find you. You could pull your hair off out of raw desesperation.

"Hello?"

The familiar voice made your stomach sink. Rex.

You considered remaining perfectly silent. Pretending the compartment was empty. Pretending you didn't exist.

Unfortunately, your breathing was still uneven enough that nobody with functioning ears would believe it.

Another knock. Softer this time.

"Anyone in there?"

You immediately scrubbed at your face, wiping furiously at the tears. Trying to smooth your expression, to convince your voice not to betray you.

"It's me, I'm fine. Just getting some stuff".

The words came out horribly strained. Your excuse was bad as fuck.

A pause followed, long enough that you briefly hoped he'd simply leave.

Then:

"...Are you?"

You sighed quietly.

Because of course he noticed. Captain Rex noticed everything.

The handle rattled once. Locked, thankfully. Your protection from the outside world.

You could practically hear him thinking on the other side.

Then, gently:

"Can you open the door?"

You stared at the floor. The smart answer was no. The smart answer was absolutely not. The smart answer was preserving what little dignity remained.

But it was Rex. And you knew you could trust him. And you respected him too much to tell him to f away. So instead, your hand moved toward the lock.

A soft click echoed through the compartment. The door slid open, and light flooded the small space immediately. After sitting in the darkness for the last twenty minutes, it felt almost blinding.

You stood up, and watched Rex standing in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sight of him should have been ordinary. You saw him almost every day. Yet something about seeing him now felt different. Perhaps because you'd been crying. Because exhaustion stripped away all the protective walls people –specially Jedis– normally carried. Or perhaps because Rex had always possessed an unsettling ability to make you feel seen.

Not as a Jedi. Not as a fighter. Just... You.

His armor was still on; freshly polished blue markings reflected the corridor lights. His helmet rested beneath one arm. A datapad occupied the other hand.

He had probably been heading back to his office; probably thinking about tomorrow's mission. Probably expecting a completely normal evening. Instead, he'd found you hiding in a maintenance cabinet.

You offered the best smile you could manage. It was terrible, you knew it. He did it too.

"Hey, Rex."

Your voice wobbled slightly. You hated that.

"So..."

You cleared your throat, trying to go again for a light, happy tone.

"On your way to your office?"

His eyes never left your face.

Studying. Observing. Taking in every detail.

The redness around your eyes. The dampness still clinging to your lashes. The flushed skin. The exhaustion. The obvious evidence of crying.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Concern replaced confusion.

Slowly, he nodded.

"Yeah."

His voice had become quieter. Gentler.

"I wanted to have one last look at the mission briefing before tomorrow."

A pause, then brushing everything he had said aside.

"Are you okay?"

The question hit harder than it should have, maybe because he genuinely wanted an answer.

There was no frustration in his voice. No irritation. No accusation. Just concern. Simple, honest concern.

You nodded quickly.

Too quickly.

The sort of nod nobody would ever believe.

"I'm okay."

Another smile, worse than the first. Your voice cracked towards the end.

And suddenly the fragile wall you'd spent the last twenty minutes throwing away and rebuilding shattered completely.

Your lower lip trembled. You looked away immediately, determined not to cry again.

Just hold it together. Hold it together a tint bit longer, don't cry. Don't cry, come on. Come on...

Your lips trembled, twisting down no matter how hard you tried to force them to stay in place. They worked against you as if moved by an invisible cord that your heart was tugging at from the bottom. The first quiet fresh tears escaped before you could stop it.

"Oh, Force..." you half cursed-half whined, pressing a hand over your eyes and mouth.

Embarrassment burned through you. You couldn't even look at him. Couldn't bear to see the awkwardness. The pity. The discomfort.

Instead—

"Hey."

The word came softly, closer than before. You lowered your hand slightly, like a kid told to be brave.

Rex had stepped in and closed the door of the compartment. The tiny space suddenly felt even smaller.

He looked completely out of his depth. Like a soldier confronting a problem no amount of combat training had prepared him for. Yet he stayed.

One gloved hand settled carefully against your shoulder. Tentative. Uncertain; as though he wasn't entirely sure whether the gesture would be welcome.

"Hey."

The word came again. Gentle. Patient. There was no judgment. No frustration. No demand that you explain yourself.

Just kindness. Just "I'm here, it's okay". And after weeks of trying so desperately to be enough for someone who always seemed disappointed... Kindness felt unbearable.

The sob that escaped you was louder this time. Broken. Helpless.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, your forehead dropping and resting against cool plastoid armor.

And then you realised what you just did. Force. You should pull away. Apologize, probably, too.

But the armor beneath your forehead remained perfectly still. And then, just a second later, cautiously, awkwardly, one arm came around your shoulders. Tentative; as if he was asking permission without words. Slow enough to swat away if you wanted to.

There was something almost painfully sincere about it. No perfect speech. No easy solution. Just a tired clone captain standing in a maintenance closet trying his absolute best.

His hand shifted slightly against your shoulder blade. An awkward pat. Then another. Clearly improvising.

You would have laughed if you weren't crying.

"It's okay."

His voice was low, steady. Close enough that you could hear it above and through the armor.

"You don't have to explain anything."

Several long minutes passed like that. The ship continued humming around you. The distant vibration of engines thrummed through the walls. Voices occasionally echoed from nearby corridors. Life continued normally outside.

Yet inside the tiny compartment, time seemed strangely suspended.

Eventually the storm began to pass. Your breathing steadied. The tears slowed. Then stopped, leaving behind pure exhaustion and a big sprinkle of embarrassment.

You reluctantly pulled back, unable to meet Rex's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Immediately:

"Don't."

You finally looked up.

Rex's expression was serious. Not annoyed, or uncomfortable. Just like he'd just been informed someone had insulted his entire battalion.

"You don't need to apologize."

The certainty in his voice caught you off guard.

A moment passed. Then another. Finally Rex glanced toward the corridor behind him; then back to you.

"Do you want to stay here?"

You looked around. At the crates. The dust. The overwhelming dignity of your chosen hiding place. Yeah, it was time to let this go.

"...Not particularly."

One corner of his mouth twitched.

"My office?" The offer came gently. "No one's going to bother you there."

You hated what the kaminoans had done with them; but felt ever gratefull for having such a good man beside you. He wasn't giving you a pat on the shoulder and letting you go. He wasn't sending you away.

Rex immediately stepped aside, giving you room. Never rushing. Just waiting.

The two of you began walking through the corridors. The ship felt quieter now. The artificial lighting had shifted into evening mode, bathing everything in soft gold and amber tones.

Crew members occasionally passed. Most offered Rex a salute. A few nodded respectfully toward you. Nobody lingered, and nobody asked questions.

When you finally reached his office, Rex keyed the door open and stepped aside. The room was exactly what you'd expected; functional, neat, and painfully practical.

A desk occupied the far side of the room. Several datapads sat stacked in perfect order. There were mission reports, troop manifests, strategic projections... A large viewport overlooked endless stars beyond.

You settled on the floor near the viewport almost immediately, too emotionally exhausted to care about chairs.

Rex placed his helmet on the desk, then removed his gloves. For some reason the simple gesture felt strangely intimate. Less Captain Rex. More Rex, the man beneath the armor.

He sat down across from you.

Eventually, you sighed.

"I had an argument with someone... " You hesitated, and carefully added. "With someone I'm dating. A boyfriend".

You didn't need to explain who. This kind of things were not well seen within the Jedi; but you always felt antinatural not having relationships. Focusing on doing the good, on self-sacrifice, protecting others... Yeah. But you were human. You needed to connect with other humans, and you didn't mean just physically. Rex understood immediately.

You looked down at your hands. Your fingers twisted together nervously.

"I don't understand why." The words emerged quietly. Small. Vulnerable. "I genuinely don't."

You took a deep breath and looked at him then.

"I really, really try to do things the right way. I just want to spend time with him, make him happy. I try" you repeated vehemently. "It's just so... Hard. I somehow always fuck up something, and then everything escalates so fast I'm splashed with things I don't even know why or where they're coming from and I don't know even what to say to excuse myself. Every thought blends into a mesh and I...".

Rex stopped you with a gentle hand on top of yours. His face showed sincere understanding, even though you were sure you weren't making much sense.

"Breathe, and start from the beginning. How did this argument began?"

It was difficult to remember at first. It had all sort of mushed together. But you thought of when you arrived to his apartment; and you just went step by step from there.

So you told him almost everything. The coldness. The shouting. The criticism. The way everything somehow became your fault. The way he ignored you for hours, sometimes days, when you did something he didn't like. How he gave you the cold shoulder and ignored you in person too, if something didn't float his boat. How everything almost always turned out to be about him. And the apologies that always came afterward. The promises. The good days. Those wonderfull, beautiful moments were you felt loved, cherished, glowing. The details he remembered, the soft caresses, the kind eyes and quiet conversations right before going to sleep. The kiss on the forehead saying goodbye.

Rex listened. The more examples you gave, the quieter he became. When you finished, he let all the info sink in for a few minutes.

And then—

"Have you thought about ending it?"

Your head snapped up.

"What?"

Rex sighed.

"He doesn't sound like a good man."

The words were gentle. Not judgmental, just honest.

You immediately defended him.

"He's not that bad. He... Has his moments, I admit it. But you haven't seen the good parts. And he knows when he's in the wrong, too. He apologizes, takes credit his fair share of times."

Silence. A frown.

"Look...I don't think he means it. And 'not that bad' shouldn't be a criteria to begin with."

Silence.

"Rex..." you sighed. You got how one could see it from the outside. It was easier to say 'okay, bye' than facing problems. But nothing good in this galaxy was easy, and you happened to be a knight. "It's not that simple. When he's okay... Life is good, and better. When he's not... I just know he doesn't hurt me consciously, and I just need to be patient.

Rex looked away briefly, toward the stars. Then back. His expression hardened once before gradually softening.

He knew you weren't ready. And he wasn't going to force you. Right now you needed someone to lean on to, a friend, more than you needed someone to criticise you and make you feel stupid, or attacked.

"Okay."

The answer came reluctantly; but accepting.

A few moments later he stood.

"Where are you going?" You frowned.

"Tea."

The answer was immediate. Matter-of-fact. Very Rex. Despite everything, a tiny smile escaped you. He was a soldier through and through, you guessed.

A few minutes later he returned carrying two steaming mugs. Warm herbal tea filled the room with comforting scents. He handed one to you before settling onto the floor beside you; close enough that your shoulders nearly touched.

Neither of you spoke.

The tea warmed your hands. The silence warmed something deeper.

For the first time all day, your thoughts began slowing. Untangling. Minutes passed, adrenaline dropped, and exhaustion started to take over. Without really thinking about it, you let your head drop to the side, resting gently against Rex's shoulder. Solid armor met your cheek. It was cool and uncomfortable; and yet still reassuring. He was there.

Rex didn't move. Didn't comment. Simply let it happen.

You closed your eyes. A long breath escaped your lungs.

"Wait."

You blinked, lifting your head slightly. Perhaps he needed to go. Perhaps he just wanted to change positions, move.

Rex carefully shifted away. For a second, confusion flashed through you; then he started removing armor.

One shoulder plate. Then the other. Chest plate. Arm pieces. Each released with a soft metallic click, and one by one they joined the growing pile beside him.

When he finally settled back against the wall, he looked different. Smaller somehow, less intimidating; yet still broad and strong enough to admire. But he didn't look exactly like captain Rex now; just like the man.

He re-positioned beside you, arm lifting slightly. An open invitation, this time without cold hard surfaces to lean against. A soft smile touched his face.

"I bet it's more comfortable now."

The words were sweet.

You didn't hesitate. The moment you settled beside him, warmth replaced cold plastoid. Soft black undersuit. Steady breathing. Comfort.

A relieved sigh escaped you immediately.

Your head found its place against his shoulder. You gave up and nuzzled his neck. One of his arms settled loosely but protectively around you. You felt some of the tension leave him too, a long breath escaping his chest as if he'd been carrying worries of his own.

"Thank you, Rex."

His arm tightened slightly around your shoulders, inevitably pressing you tigther against him. Not enough to trap, but enough to reassure, to make you feel cared for.

The stars continued flowing beyond the viewport. Infinite. Silent. Beautiful. Rex traced soft, slow patterns with his thumb on your shoulder. He could put you to sleep with that and the sound of his breathing alone.

For the first time all day –no matter how much you knew about using your lightsaber– you felt safe.

After a while, Rex finally spoke. His voice was low enough that you almost missed it.

"Meshla, if things get difficult again..."

You listened quietly, face almost hidden in the warm spot between his chin and his shoulder.

"If you need somewhere to go, someone to pick you up, someone to talk with..."

A small pause.

Then:

"I'm always a com away."

Your eyes felt wet, but this time you didn't cry, because you were too happy for that. He had done so good by you... Rex was such a good man. He was truly a gem.

Rex took a very hard decision that day. If you weren't yet ready, if he couldn't make it go away... At least he'd hold you through the pain. He would keep you on his watch, be your shoudler to find comfort in; until you were ready to take that step, and he'd help you right through it.

You smiled and took one of his big warm hands in yours. You squeezed slowly and affectionately.

"Thank you, Rex".

THE END.

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Taraaaa! I know you did this request quite some time ago (sorry, I was finishing college lol, I'm graduated now!) but I actually did it all in a day. I felt so inspired! Hope it is what you had been waiting for. See you in the next one!