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1.
Skywalker’s arrogance comes in many forms.
Sometimes it can be charming, like the way he so confidently charges into battle. Always on the front lines, protecting his Padawan and his men. Taking charge flawlessly, as if he was always meant to lead. Or, how easily he fits himself into political talks to ease tensions. His former master is known as the Negotiator, and it’s clear a few lessons stuck with his stubborn student. Just as he commands the battlefield, he can be an effective diplomat.
He’s strong, confident, and a formidable General. And, he knows this. Often his brazen, insane, and unorthodox methods will cause a bit of chaos and headaches, but Rex can’t deny its effectiveness. His strategies are risky and reckless, but he’s never doubted his General’s ability to lead and adapt.
Sometimes his arrogance is… a little annoying. The way he can flirt his way through problems, often by wooing the wives or girlfriends of whatever criminal or politician they’re interrogating or investigating. How he tends to dismiss the medic clones and droids. He will assure them that he’s fine, that he can take on another Separatist tank. Even when Rex was the one who practically had to carry him there.
That cocky grin as he bests another brother in a spar. No one has been able to beat their General in a hand to hand fight, though Rex has gotten close. There was one time he was almost certain he was going to finally win, but just as he was about to disarm Skywalker, he embarrassingly lost his balance. He swears on his bucket that his General cheated by using the Force, it’s the only explanation. He let the incident slide, only because the shinies who were watching got a kick out of it.
(The 501st eventually got their revenge when they sent General Kenobi after him. It was a near even match, but the master always outwits his student.)
His General has never lacked confidence, and there are times when he is aggravatingly aware of that. He’s the Chosen One, after all.
So, the rest of the time his arrogance just pisses Rex off.
“I would honestly rather have some kind of staff. Do we have one of those?”
It can’t be seen because of his bucket, but Rex can tell that Seabrook levels their General a very long look.
The sergeant sighs before ducking into the armory again, “I’ll check, sir.”
They’ve been at this for almost an hour now, trying to help Skywalker pick out a weapon to take on their undercover mission. Their General is pretending to be a traveling merchant, and Rex is posing as his bodyguard. Any regular merchant would be carrying a blaster. It’s the most obvious thing in the galaxy for someone like that to carry. Skywalker has refused every blaster, rifle, and crossbow Seabrook has pulled from the Resolute’s extensive armory.
Rex doesn’t completely blame Skywalker for his aversion to long range weapons, he mostly pins it on his former master. (Though, Cody swears that Kenobi is as adept with a blaster as any clone. He has severe doubts about this claim.) Still, he’s not even considering it…
Seabrook steps back out of the armory with a quarterstaff in hand. It’s a simple weapon, he’s not even sure where they picked it up from. Its handle and body are made of carved wood, but the ends are reinforced with an alloy metal similar to Skywalker’s lightsaber.
The General’s eyes widen with interest as he grips it, “This’ll work.”
He gives a few experimental twirls and swings, testing its weight and balance. He grins, seemingly satisfied. He does seem happier wielding this, but…
Rex is less enthused. That weapon will do hardly any good against battle droids with blasters and tanks. Not that they’re supposed to be getting into a fight, but Rex is always preparing for the worst possible outcome.
“Are you sure about this, sir?” Rex doesn’t fear reprimand for doubting his General, not in the way he did when he first joined the front lines. Skywalker has encouraged him and his brothers to speak their minds. He can’t outright tell his General to pick up a kriffing blaster already, but he can voice his concerns, “That weapon won’t do you much good in a shootout.”
Skywalker snorts, showing off a bit as he spins the staff between his shoulders, “Shouldn’t be a problem if you’re watching my back.”
He’s grateful that his General trusts him, believes in him unquestionably. He’s never taken that for granted, especially when it goes both ways, and has saved their lives more than he can count. However, Rex is only one man, and the rest of the company will be standing back for the majority of the mission.
With the General’s back momentarily to them, Rex silently implores the sergeant to try again. He would really rather not be decommissioned for getting their General killed because he refused to carry a blaster.
Seabrook sighs, gesturing to the pile of abandoned weapons, “Sure you don’t want any of these, sir?”
Skywalker hooks the strap attached to the quarterstaff over his shoulder and shakes his head, “No, I’m good. Thanks, Seabrook.”
Their General bounds out, probably to check on their shuttle. Rex gruffly orders, “Get this cleaned up, and take the rest of the cycle off.”
Seabrook salutes, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
-
The mission goes sideways, because of course it does.
It’s a firefight, angry red plasma bolts shoot across the marketplace alley. Rex’s blue return fire, while more accurate, is not enough to completely deter the onslaught.
“How much longer till backup arrives?” Skywalker calls out from his cover, a knocked over merchant stand that once sold cheaply made jewelry. Normally, his General would be at the forefront, redirecting blaster fire with his lightsaber. However, his staff won’t do much besides chip away from plasma bolts. Skywalker leads the bustling panicked crowd away from danger, guiding them to safety. Rex is shooting down as many as he can, taking a far more forward position behind a still steaming food cart. It’s decent enough cover, but there’s only so much he can do on his own.
Rex brings his hand up, momentarily forgetting he frighteningly does not have his bucket, and brings his wrist comm close, “Status report!”
There’s a crackle on the other side, a lot of echoing blaster fire similar to Rex’s current predicament, “One more click, sir! But—argh, kark—there’s more clankers than we anticipated.”
Rex doesn’t need to bark at them to hurry up, his men are well aware that it’s unlikely their General and Captain can make it out of this without their aid. He bites his tongue, before grumbling out, “Copy that.”
Rex’s throat already feels raw, but he pushes through to inform Skywalker, “General! One more click!”
He grunts in response, using his staff to physically push back a wandering battle droid, which Rex easily takes out with a shot to the back of the head. Desperation slowly creeps upon him, but he can’t stop. He has to protect Skywalker and these innocent civilians.
He should have known that black market dealer was up to no good. He could tell they had tripped one too many suspicions during their negotiations. He should have known he would call for a strike team, unwilling to take any chances on his budding alliance with the Separatists falling apart. Rex curses underneath his breath, before rearing up once more and aiming a series of precise shots at the closest round of droids. They all fall with a satisfying thunk, but he missed one.
The thing gloats happily, “Ha! Nice shot! Maybe—”
One of the fallen droids mysteriously slides in front of it, causing it to trip and fall flat on its face, making it an easy target for Rex to take down. He sees his General smirk out of the corner of his eye, and he can’t help but match the expression.
“Droids,” He huffs, “Just how many did they drop down?”
Rex should know better than to invite the universe to pull a fast one on him like that.
“Hold the line. Do not let them run.”
Instead of the B1s’ higher pitched voice, he hears a series of affirmatives in something with a far lower pitch.
“Kriff—Rex, commando droids!”
His General’s warning does little to stop the sudden onslaught of bolts heading towards Rex. Something catches, sparks fly, and he flinches back at the fire. He has to reluctantly abandon the food cart, rolling across the marketplace’s dirt road to duck behind a set of shipping crates. The cover and angle are less than ideal, he knows he’s too exposed, but he won’t be able to move anywhere else without potentially getting stomped on by a commando.
At least the people have gotten out. He sighs to himself, a momentary breath, before aiming once more for the clankers. These ones are dangerous and quick on their feet, Rex needs a really lucky shot to take one down, and he has five racing towards him.
“Rex, look out!”
His General sounds closer than before, but he doesn’t get a chance to see, as pain shreds Rex’s thoughts. Two points of agony, his hand and his side. One of his blasters clatters to the floor, as Rex falls back against the crates with a pained groan. He drops the other blaster to press his uninjured hand to his side, which causes stars to pop in his vision. When it slowly clears, he finds his hand covered in red. Kriff, not good. Not good at all.
Before he can attempt to get back up, his instincts screaming to gnash his teeth and fight till his dying breath, there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder that slowly pushes him back down.
Rex blinks, his vision slightly swimming, but he can see Skywalker knelt before him with something stormy in his expression, “Stay down, Captain.”
“But—”
“That’s an order.” Skywalker holds up Rex’s fallen blasters, and grins, “How many charges left?”
Rex’s pack with extras was left behind during the ambush, but he never loses count of his current charge, so he answers, “Five, sir. Two on the left, three on right.”
Skywalker eyes the oncoming droids, and nods, “Well, guess I have to make the most of it.”
Rex tries to protest, but all that comes out of his mouth is a hiss. He can only watch helplessly as the five commando droids aim their blasters at his General. Skywalker raises Rex’s blasters, the pair he has carried and cared for this entire war. His eyes glint with a fire, burning with determination and that forsaken arrogance.
Rex would not place his faith with anyone else.
His breath catches, as his General dodges every bolt thrown his way. It’s graceful in a way none of the clones have ever managed, almost like a dance. With five pulls of the trigger, the commando droids become scrap heaps in the dirt. It looked effortless, that perfect aim, the precise movement.
Skywalker slides Rex’s blasters in the unused holsters of his disguise, and that sight makes his heart skip a beat. The blood loss probably doesn’t help. He feels dizzy, lightheaded. His blasters look right at home strapped to his General’s thighs.
Oh, Rex is so kriffed.
The remaining B1s panic, raising their weapons, but with a great push of the Force from his General, they all falter back just as the rest of their company finally breaches their location. Pinned between the angry Jedi and a very angry group of clones, those clankers don’t stand a chance.
Kix is at his side once his brothers have broken through, chiding Rex for not putting enough pressure on his wound. He cuts himself off when he notices Rex’s attention is elsewhere. He follows his Captain’s tunnel vision, until his gaze lands on their General directing the other clones to aid civilians and secure the perimeter. Kix scoffs, spotting Rex’s blasters, “You never let anyone handle those things. You must really be out of it, sir.”
He vaguely mumbles something that sounds like, “You can say that again,” before promptly passing out.
-
2.
One time, it’s an unaccounted for probability. A fluke. A random happenstance.
Twice, it’s possibly the start of a pattern.
The 501st is deployed onto a little mining planet called Terr. Most of the planet is covered by untamable jungle with patches of human run mining compounds spread across its surface. There’s an abundance of minerals in the ground, something useful in the production of various metals. The Separatists have targeted the compounds, despite the planet’s Minister already agreeing to provide for the Republic.
Rex doesn’t really care about the politics of it all, he tends to mentally skip those parts of their mission debriefings. What he does pay attention to is the stark warning from Terr’s people to avoid the jungles at all costs.
Something his General either missed or ignored.
Rex surveys the battlefield, allowing just a little relief at their progress. They’ve managed to turn the tides in their favor, despite being vastly outnumbered. A large part of that is due to the fact Skywalker managed to behead the tactical droid and run the Separatist Admiral off, forcing the droids to try and fail to formulate a game plan and counterattack. Unfortunately, the two of them have disappeared into the jungle, and he hasn’t heard anything on their comms since.
“Fives!” Rex calls, allowing Jesse to take his position and fall back to the ARC trooper.
“Yes, sir?”
“It shouldn’t be much longer now before we have control of this compound. You and Jesse take things from here. I’m going to look for the General.”
He can’t see his expression past his bucket, but he can hear the frown on Fives’ face as he replies, “Are you sure, sir? I think the General can handle himself.”
“We don’t know what’s out there. We would have heard from him if he’s captured the Seppie—”
Fives interrupts with a quick, “On your right, two droids!”
They both raise their blasters, aiming at a pair of droids that attempt to corner Tup and Seabrook. The two clones shout their gratitude, before rushing forward to gain more ground. He turns back to Fives, “I trust you all can handle this.”
Fives sighs and nods, “Yes, sir. Go make sure the General hasn’t gotten himself into any trouble.”
The two salute to each other, and he makes sure to keep his comm secure in case he needs a medic to track them. He pushes into the heavy foliage, brushing aside vines, ferns, and flora. It’s dense and the canopy creates perfect cover from the sun. His boots tread through the dirt, the crunch of the soil’s minerals sounding along with his breaths.
Rex heeds Fives’ words, sure that that’s exactly what Skywalker has found. Trouble always has a way of finding their General.
This time the trouble comes in the form of a gross pulsing wyrm the size of a speeder bike.
It’s a rich brown color that blends perfectly into the jungle floor, sparkling from the minerals it glides upon. It has a gaping maw full of rows of sharp teeth that are currently gnawing at the General’s prosthetic arm. Rex doesn’t recognize the language Skywalker is spitting, but he’s sure it’s a colorful array of swears and expletives. He’s using his flesh hand to beat upon its head, but to no avail, it seems determined to take his prosthetic.
“General Skywalker, stay still.”
Without a word, his General listens, pulling himself from the creature as much as possible, and freezes. It’s a blatant sign of trust, unshakable certainty in Rex. It fills him with a sort of confidence bordering on Skywalker’s.
Rex raises his blasters and shoots several rounds into the odd creature. It shrieks in rage, allowing Skywalker to dislodge his arm from its teeth. Rex aims a couple more rounds into his open mouth, and the hostile wyrm finally collapses.
Skywalker curses, taking stock of the damage to his arm, “Kark, this is gonna take ages to fix.”
Rex offers a hand, which the General takes, and he pulls him to his feet, “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
He sighs, “No, I’m fine. I’m guessing it feeds off the metal in the ground. My prosthetic was probably an exotic treat for it.” He smiles charmingly, “Thanks for the save.”
Rex nods, feeling inexplicably warm, “Anytime, General.” He shakes off the odd feeling and reports, “The men have almost taken the compound. Where’s the Admiral?”
“I don’t know. That thing suddenly attacked me, and he got away. He’ll probably circle back to the compound, we better hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” Rex is about to make a run for it beside his General, but he pauses when Skywalker hesitates by forlornly looking down at the wyrm. He suddenly registers his empty hands, and inquires, “Sir, where’s your lightsaber?”
Skywalker grumbles, crossing his arms, “It ate it.”
Rex’s eyes widen, “Oh.” That’s not good. It’s not the first time his General has misplaced his lightsaber in a fight, but they do not have the time to retrieve it right now. He mentally jots down their coordinates, and suggests, “We can come back around once the compound is secure and extract it later.”
“If it hasn’t already disintegrated in that thing’s stomach.” He runs a hand down his face, annoyed, “You’re right, let’s—”
“Here,” Rex holds out one of his blasters, the grip pointed towards his General, “For now, use this.”
Skywalker glances down, shocked, and shakes his head, “I can’t—”
“You can shoot, General. Take it.”
Any other General would probably reprimand Rex for talking back like that, but Skywalker merely rolls his eyes and grips the blaster with care, “Fine.”
The two appear back on the battlefield side by side, each raising a blaster and trampling any droid that gets in their way.
It’s another victory for the Republic.
(Though it takes an additional two hours to retrieve the General’s lost saber. More than one brother had to vacate the scene because of the smell alone. Thankfully, it’s not damaged and just needs a thorough clean. Rex tries not to feel too disappointed when Skywalker hands him back his blaster with a grateful, “Thanks for having my back, Rex.”)
-
3.
A few days after the successful campaign on Terr, the Resolute’s Commander returns from a brief mission with General Ti. (They thought it would be a good idea for Ahsoka to learn more about Kamino and spend time with someone of her kind. Ahsoka enjoys Master Ti’s company, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss her own Master.)
Word spreads fast on their Venator, it doesn’t take long at all for Ahsoka to weasel the story of the Terr campaign from the Domino twins.
That’s how Rex finds himself pausing his sparring session with a handful of his brothers and General Skywalker. The young Padawan storms into the training room, pouting, “How come you get to use a blaster on the field?”
Rex is sure it’s just because of her young age and the way she looks up to the clones, but she’s always been fascinated with their vast array of weapons. Not that she doesn’t love and respect her lightsabers, he doubts she would trade them for the world. However, she has asked to train with a blaster before, to at least learn how to use one. Lessons that Skywalker has generally obliged with—Rex often leads those—but never utilized on the field.
Skywalker raises a brow, matching his Padawan’s posture, “Circumstance.”
She scoffs, “What? You lose your lightsaber? Again?”
He brushes that off quickly, “It doesn’t matter. I have a lot more experience and training. I can handle it.”
She scrutinizes him, “Somehow I doubt that.”
“What?”
Oh boy, here we go. Rex and his brothers all share a look. They know Ahsoka’s tricks by now. She’s observant and too smart for her own good. If there’s one thing the little Padawan knows how to do, it’s push her older brothers’ buttons.
“You hate blasters, I bet you can barely aim. There’s no way you can beat the clones. In fact, I’m almost certain I’m a better shot.”
Throwing down the gauntlet, she stands tall and firm against her Master’s growing annoyance. Rex has already turned away from the scene and started shuffling through his gear.
“You little—You’ve barely started any kind of serious blaster training! I’ve been shooting since I was five! Rex and I took down at least a dozen squads worth of droids with his blasters on Terr.”
“Yeah, because Rex did all the work—” She pauses, considering his words, before her eyes widen, “What?! No fair, you got to use Rex’s blasters?”
The Jedi Knight has far too smug of a look on his face for such a petty argument.
Rex steps up between them, placating, “Alright, before there’s blood.”
“But, you—”
“She’s just—”
Rex holds out one of his blasters to each of them, smiling, “It’s not in our nature to back down from a challenge. I’m sure a little friendly competition couldn’t hurt.”
The two Jedi stare at him in surprise, and he’s pretty sure he hears some frantic whispering between the other men in the room. His smile turns sharp suddenly, and he warns, “No shooting each other, and please be careful with these. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” They both grin, taking their weapon of choice.
He might regret this later, but at least they’re both in a better mood.
The clones set up a series of targets for the pair, and Rex stands back between them as they position themselves at the ready.
“Three rounds. Round one will start with still targets.” He raises his voice, returning to a more authoritative tone that he typically utilizes for training, “Ready! Aim!”
The two Jedi raise their blasters. He almost expects them to remain jovial and teasing, but both of them breathe deeply, pulling in their focus using the Force, and a calm determination settles over their features. He’s a little taken aback to find them taking this so seriously.
Too late to back out now.
“Fire!”
-
Skywalker is winning. He can tell the Commander is disappointed with this. After almost all perfect bullseyes in the first round, and somehow an even better score in the second round with moving targets, it would probably take a miracle for the little Padawan to claim a victory. Rex thinks long and hard. He planned on the last round being a quickdraw, just for the fun of it, but he changes his mind.
He claps his hands to get everyone’s attention, stating, “Alright, your final challenge will be against me.”
Master and apprentice share a look, the latter repeating, “Against you?”
He nods, grinning, “Yeah, that’ll cover the full scope of your stated challenge. Don’t you think?”
“W-Well, uh, yeah, I guess…”
“Perfect,” He gestures towards the blasters, “Set to stun. If either of you can manage to hit me, you both win. If you fail to, I win.”
Ahsoka balks, shaking her head, “What? I’m not going to shoot you!”
Rex chuckles, “Why not? We’ve all hit you with a stun.”
“But—I mean, that was Jedi training—”
He pats the Commander’s shoulder reassuringly, smiling kindly to the little one, “Trust me, it takes more than one stun shot to knock me down. I’ll be fine.” He turns that smile to Skywalker, “Right, General?”
He can’t quite read his expression during an odd beat of silence, but eventually Skywalker recovers and smiles back, “Rex is tough, Ahsoka. Besides, aren’t you gonna be shooting back at us?”
Rex shakes his head, “Not quite, sir,” He signals to Seabrook, who throws him the staff he requested, “I’ll be using this to block.”
The boys laugh around them, and Skywalker scoffs, “Seriously? Is this about that one undercover op?”
He shrugs, “You could say I was inspired. I’ve been working on my technique. And, this one is designed to absorb electricity, so the stun blasts won’t affect it.”
“Huh,” Skywalker appraises him, before nodding, “Very well, let’s get started.”
Now, Rex cannot use the Force, therefore to even the playing field, his opponents will only be utilizing their natural instincts (which they both groan about it). Even with that limitation, Rex isn’t sure if he’ll actually beat them. Ahsoka is quick on her feet, and Skywalker can adapt to just about any strategy he can come up with. It would be a challenge individually, but working together it will be a work out for Rex. Still, that’s sort of the point. They’re a team, and it’s Rex’s job to support them.
Rex takes his position, finding cover amongst the various obstacles the growing number of clone troopers watching the spectacle had graciously set up. From his vantage, he doesn’t know where the two Jedi have decided to stake at.
Fives makes the call, setting up the timer, “Three minutes, Captain. I’m sure you’ll do great.” Rex isn’t stupid enough to go for the bait and give his position away, so the ARC trooper shrugs, “Worth a shot. Alright General, Commander, ready! Begin!”
(Rex actually almost wins. Almost.
He has to wrestle his blasters back from both Jedi, who reluctantly part with the weapons. He almost feels bad for them. Almost.)
-
4.
“You sure you’re doin’ alright, sir?”
Rex nods to Echo, trying not to let his irritation show. He knows his brother means well, and he would never dream of lashing out over something as simple and kind as concern. He pats the ARC’s shoulder, insisting, “I’ll be fine. Make sure that shiny gets to the medbay.”
Echo salutes and reassures, “Yes, sir. If you need anything, just let one of us know.”
Rex fights back a pout, internally reprimanding himself for acting like a petulant child. He appreciates the sentiment, it always eases something within him that the men he leads care about his well-being as much as he cares about theirs. He knows that he’s been acting uncharacteristically the last few days. He sighs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. He’s annoyed, that’s really all. He isn’t hurt, most of the men came out unscathed on the relatively simple mission. There was only an accident with the aforementioned shiny to take up the medics’ attention.
It’s just… he can’t remember the last time he went out on assignment without his blasters. Not every clone develops an attachment to their specific weapon of choice. After all, they’re trained on a multitude of options, styles, and techniques. Always ready to pick up what’s been dropped, handed off, or what needs covering on the battlefield. Sometimes things break, or they lose it in the heat of battle, or perhaps they want to try something new. Rex is no slacker either, he can handle just about anything thrown his way. Still, as a clone he is allowed so few possessions that are implicitly his, and his alone.
Besides, it wasn’t his fault.
Torrent company had been sent on a mission to rescue the scientists of a Republic research lab that got caught in a monsoon. It was a pain, between the wind, the rain, the flooding, the lightning, the cold, and the mud. Little gods, the mud, that was the worst part. It got everywhere. Every inch of every clone was covered head to toe in mud by the end of it. It took Rex the entire hyperspace flight just to clean all the gunk off his armor, so he didn’t even have the time to look at his blasters by the time he was called for his latest mission. Mud caked into every inch of them, clogging them both, so they were completely useless until Rex had the time to clean them.
He huffs through his nose, grimacing, I guess I finally have the time now.
On his way to his quarters, he feels his mounting frustration simmering beneath the surface. He’s being ridiculous, illogical, he is well aware of that. Still, all that matters is he’ll feel better once he—
He enters his door code, which swishes open with a familiar sound, and is greeted with the sight of his General standing in the center of his room.
Skywalker beams at him, “Rex! How was Anaxes?”
He blinks, shuttering away his surprise for something more neutral, “Good. It was just a scouting party, so hopefully the Seppies will get the message to back off.” He shakes his head, furrowing his brow, “Didn’t think you’d be back from Coruscant so soon.”
While Rex’s squad handled the droids on Anaxes, Skywalker and Ahsoka had been summoned for some Jedi business. Rex doesn’t really know the details, and he doesn’t need to. He’s perfectly content with the General and Commander handling those matters.
“Situation on Ord Mantell pulled Master Windu away, and Obi-Wan couldn’t make it, so we ended up delaying the meeting. Basically turned right back around as soon as we left.” He grins, “Fine by me. Gave me some free time to give Ahsoka a few more flying lessons. Oh, and, do this.”
Skywalker held up a pair of what looked like sparkling brand new DC-17 blasters. However, with a keen eye, he can spot the familiar chips, grooves, and scratches that have been accumulated over the course of the war. The markings are as familiar as his scars, as the Jaig eyes on his helmet. He would recognize them anywhere.
In a state of shock, he takes the offered weapons and examines them even closer. Rex is by no means careless with his blasters, but he genuinely can’t remember the last time they looked this clean. If he had the Force, he’s almost certain he would be able to sense the care given to them.
“You… You cleaned my blasters?”
Skywalker shoots him a soft smile, shrugging, “I had the time. I asked Fives for a few tips, so hopefully it’s okay.”
“It’s perfect,” He feels himself flush at his quick response, and backtracks, “I mean, I appreciate it, General. You really didn’t have to, I was just about to—”
“Nonsense,” Skywalker snorts, waving off his concern, “You’ve done so much for me, Rex. It felt only fair to help you out. I know how much these mean to you, I figured it would be a nice surprise.”
Rex smiles gratefully, “Yeah, it is. Thank you, General.”
“Anakin.”
He blinks, surprised, “What?”
Skywalker shifts his eyes away, rubbing his neck, “We’re friends, Rex. When we’re alone together, you don’t have to call me General.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“Please, Rex.”
He hesitates, unused to the look on Skywalker’s face. It’s a look bordering on crestfallen, as if Rex’s answer means that much to him. He can’t fathom why. They’ve always been friends, he’s always trusted his General, and he’s sure Skywalker trusts him as well. What changed?
Calling his General something so informal, even in the privacy of his quarters, sends his heart racing. If Skywalker— Anakin —wants this, how could he ever deny him? How could he say no to something he so terribly wants, too?
“Anakin,” He tastes his name, feeling wrong footed, and yet hopeful. It’s a name that suits his General. He nods, “Thank you, Anakin.”
Anakin places a hand on his wrist, which still holds his beloved blasters aloft, and squeezes gently, “Anytime, Rex. I mean it.”
His General has never lied to him, so with confidence, he says, “I know.”
-
5.
“This is the last time I’m trusting Hondo’s contacts!” Anakin snarls, darting through the neon lit streets.
Rex keeps up, just barely thanks to the sharp pain in his ankle. He ignores it, grunting, “I don’t know why we ever did to begin with.”
The army was running low on plasma after the Separatists hit a number of important mining planets they got supplies from in the Outer Rim. They are getting desperate, searching for any black market dealer that can sell them something while Generals Kenobi, Mundi, and Bilaba attempt to free and secure those planets. Anakin had the brilliant idea of attempting to contact their old pirate friend, Hondo Ohnaka. He had nothing to sell them, but he informed them of a trio of pirates plundering the planet Daiyu, who he claimed would have what they’re looking for.
Unfortunately, he failed to mention that this particular trio have less than fond things to say about the Jedi. Not every pirate is as… sometimes cooperative as Hondo.
As soon as they arrived at their meeting point, a seedy club deep in the city, there was little they could do to try and plead their case. One of them, a small theelin woman threw a dagger right at Anakin’s face (which he easily dodged), and growled, “Skywalker…”
Rex had raised his blasters instantly, “Problem, miss?”
She glared, eyes full of hatred, “Your army trampled all over my home. We have no business with you.”
Anakin attempts to placate, “Hondo said—”
A burly human man with ragged scars in the shape of claw marks interrupted with a deep scowl, “Hondo owes us ten thousand credits. If you’re with him, perhaps your head gifted to Count Dooku can clear his debt.”
An astromech beeps threateningly from where it waddles at the pair’s feet, some colorful binary that would make Threepio short circuit.
Now, they’re on the run. With no chance of getting the plasma they need, there was little reason to stay on this rundown planet. They rush straight back to their ship, only to discover their docking bay has been locked down. Anakin curses, before bringing his lightsaber up to cut a hole in the durasteel. The Republic will pay for that… eventually.
They stumble in only to discover a pair of trandoshans in the midst of stealing their ship. Anakin extends a hand, and with a pull of the Force, attempts to apprehend the thieves. One tumbles off the gangplank, but the other rushes to leave their comrade behind and take off. The fallen trandoshan snarls and thrashes, gunning straight for Rex. He brings his arms up, blocking the furious swipes of the trandoshan’s claws with his armored gauntlets. However, this blinds him from the thief sweeping his legs out from underneath him. Rex’s ankle gets twisted, but thankfully Anakin rushes forward to knock out his opponent.
Anakin helps him up, a hand on his shoulder as he asks with a concerned frown, “You okay?”
He nods, grimacing, “I’ll live.” There’s a crash behind, the distinct yell of the theelin pirate and the screech of their droid. It sounded far too close, “We need to get out of here.”
His General gestures towards a series of dark alleys, “I bet if we can chase them towards the south side of the city, lose them, and loop back around, we could commandeer one of their ships.”
It’s as solid of a plan as they can make in such short time and little information. He agrees, and the two of them take off once more. They duck between bright neon signs, door fronts for less than luxurious establishments, and crates full of who knows what. A rat-like creature scurries out of a dumpster, squealing in fright at their hastened steps, and he curses when he hears the human pirate call out, “That way!”
Winding through another block of the city, they pause upon an empty, desolate street.
“General, we need to—” Rex peering behind him, he spots the theelin pirate rounding a corner down the street. He jolts when a hand wraps around his elbow and pulls.
Anakin pushes him into an extremely narrow alley. With all the crates and fuse boxes, they almost touch chest to chest standing in front of each other. There’s a tower of boxes blocking the way, and while they could theoretically push through them, the noise alone would instantly give away their position. They’re stuck, he realizes, in an uncomfortably and unfairly cramped alley.
“Sir—”
His General presses his shoulders into the brick wall behind him, and whispers, “Quiet.”
Rex immediately shuts his mouth, eyes trained on the mouth of the alley. The theelin woman isn’t far, he can hear her footsteps echoing down the empty street. If they’re lucky, she’ll pass them without spotting them hiding in the shadows.
Instead of rushing forward on the hunt, she’s prowling, meticulous and ready. She’s creeping along too slowly, as if she’s checking every dark crevice and cover. She must have just barely noticed them moving down the row. So, it doesn’t appear luck is on their side.
Rex’s mind whirls, trying to think of something. They can’t run, she’ll hear them, and the point is to lose them in a chase, keep them following a cold lead so they can get ahead. They’re running out of options and time, it seems.
Rex’s eyes shift back to his General, and a thought crosses his mind. Oh, he’s so getting court martialed for this.
“Anakin.”
That whispered name gets his General’s attention. His piercing blue eyes snap straight to Rex’s, attention instantly focused on his Captain. Rex swallows, licking his lips, and he must be imagining Anakin following its path.
“Anakin, do you trust me?”
Something in his General’s expression softens, a little sad, a little fond, “Of course.”
Rex’s gaze checks once more, now able to see the theelin woman approaching their alley, her expression predatory. He takes a breath, steels himself, and grabs hold of Anakin’s robes. He pulls him forward into a kiss, and pours every ounce of want he’s kept hidden deep inside himself into it.
Anakin makes a surprised noise, almost a whimper, freezing against Rex. For a moment of panic, he’s sure he’s officially gone too far, and then his General practically melts in his arms. He returns the kiss enthusiastically, pouring sunshine into Rex’s mouth. Blood pounds in his veins, warming him from head to toe, as he gets lost in Anakin’s lips. It’s everything Rex could have ever imagined, and so much more. It feels electric, like the flare and glow of a kyber crystal.
His eyes open at the feeling of Anakin’s fingers brushing against his jaw, his own hand subconsciously drifting into his soft hair. It takes a painful amount of effort to block out the sweet little noises coming from Anakin’s throat, to listen to the theelin pirate’s slowly approaching footsteps.
Damnit, she’s not backing off. He tries to think of a plan, but it’s hard when his heart is fluttering like a bird’s wings and his mind can only repeat a mantra of Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
Rex, using the hand out of view and the one unoccupied with tangling in Anakin’s locks, pulls out one of his blasters and quietly sets it to stun. Anakin has the better angle, Rex can only barely see the woman, and who knows if he’ll get the faster draw if he suddenly turns. Rex reluctantly let go of Anakin’s lips, and that’s definitely a whimper this time. He hushes him, softly whispering, “Easy, mesh’la.”
Anakin gasps as he dips down to press a string of kisses along his jaw, before nuzzling close to his ear, and whispering even quieter, “Here. Take the shot.”
Subtly, he hands over the blaster to Anakin, who’s fingers squeeze Rex’s own hand for a moment, “Rex…”
He nips at Anakin’s earlobe, a little encouragement, and the Jedi finally takes the blaster with a quiet moan. Still kissing along his General’s neck, he hears the theelin woman approaching the entrance to the alley. With a natural grace, Anakin brings an arm around Rex’s shoulder as if he was pulling the clone closer, and instead aims and fires at the pirate. She curses as she falls to the ground, knocked out with the stun blast to the chest.
There’s no time to even meet one another’s gaze, not when they hear the alarmed beeps of the pirates’ astromech, calling for its other master. They dart down the rest of the alley, and hurry down a zigzagging path back to the pirates’ ships. Hopefully the human will be too busy with his companion to make it back in time to stop them.
Just as they enter the docking bay where a freighter and a modified U-Wing sit in waiting, there’s several angry shouts. A number of rifles and blasters aim towards them from the roof.
“I guess they have some allies,” Anakin comments reproachfully.
They barely have a moment to duck behind a console, before a rain of blaster fire hails down on them.
Whenever there’s a brief reprieve, Rex shoots towards where he thinks the various snipers are, but he’s unsure if any of his shots even land.
“General, I’ll cover you. Get to the ship.”
Anakin’s eyes widen, and he protests, “No, I’ll cover you. You just need to start it, I’ll fly us out.”
“Sir—”
Before he can argue again, Anakin stands and holds his lightsaber forward, “Go, on my signal!”
Rex curses under his breath, and keeps attempting to shoot at the snipers. Anakin redirects blaster fire left and right, and as incredible of a swordsman and duelist as he is, he’s not invincible.
He shouts, a plasma bolt just grazing his ear, “Now, Rex!”
Rex doesn’t need to be told twice, he instantly jumps out and hurries to the U-Wing. Just as he crosses paths with the Jedi, a startled look crosses his face and he suddenly pushes the clone aside, “Rex!”
Instead of a blaster shot through his heart, the bolt lands on Anakin’s side. The human pirate strides towards the docking bay entrance, a furious scowl on his face. He raises his rifle again, and aims for Anakin’s head. The Jedi barely manages to block it, and he’s not so lucky on the second shot, which hits his thigh. He lands on his knees hard, and Rex feels a panic like no other consume him.
“Anakin!”
Rex aims for the pirate, dodging an attack. At the last second, he changes direction to aim for the docking bay’s keypad. The doors slam shut before the pirate can cross the threshold. All he hears is an angry slam against the durasteel. Rex doesn’t waste a second, he helps his General stand, and the two rush to the ship.
(Rex isn’t much of a pilot, but his adrenaline and fear don’t care, and he gets them off Daiyu in record time. As soon as they arrive on the Resolute, Anakin is sent to the medbay.
Kix assures him, “He’s unconscious, but he’ll recover. Get some rest, and ice your ankle.”
He escapes to his quarters for a few hours, before leading the bridge. He has a job to do, no matter how worried he may be.)
-
+1.
Rex isn’t a fan of the medbay. To be fair, he isn’t sure any clone is. Not even the medics. They’re fulfilled by their role and always eager to help their brothers, but it’s not as if anyone actually wants to be in the medbay. As upset as any of them are when a brother is ill or hurt, nothing dampens the 501st’s mood like their General being stuck in the medbay.
It’s been two days since their failed mission on Daiyu. He’s already been approached by a medic, one of Kix’s newer shinies, a soldier who hasn’t found a name yet and still goes by CT-4398. The poor fellow was clearly intimidated by him, and Rex probably didn’t help anything by the severe expression on his face. He’d nervously informed him, stammering, “Uh, s-sir. Kix asked me to, um, tell you that visitation is open now. Th-The General woke, and he’s… he’s asking for you.”
His initial instinct is to run. Hide. Get out. Anything.
It’s useless, because even if he avoids him in the medbay, he’ll eventually recover and he’ll still have to face him. It’s selfish, but at least now if things go poorly, he can leave whenever he wants and put in a transfer before his General can stop him.
He nods to the shiny medic, and gruffly responds, “Thanks.”
CT-4398 salutes shakily, before scurrying back to his duties.
Once he’s assured that Yularen can handle the bridge and there’s no emergency he needs to address, he heads down to the medbay and to his General’s room. He knocks gently on the door, waiting until he hears, “Come in.”
Rex takes a deep breath, begging his heart to calm down, as he enters.
His General has a few bandages wrapped around him and gauze on his ear, but he overall looks just fine. He perks up at the sight of the Captain, and exclaims, “Rex! Are you doing okay?”
He furrows his brow, frowning, “I believe I should be asking that question, since I’m not the one in Kix’s care.”
Anakin smiles, rolling his eyes, “I know, but you hurt your ankle back there.”
“It’s—” He bites back a frustrated curse, and sighs, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Good.”
Awkward silence lingers between them. If Rex had hair long enough, he would be tempted to pull on it. He needs to say this. He knows he needs to say this. He’s been painstakingly thinking this through the last two days, and while it doesn’t hurt any less, he has to do this. It’s his duty.
“General.”
Anakin winces at that, pouting, “Rex, I told you—”
“General,” He interrupts, insistent, “I want to apologize for what happened on Daiyu. I… I overstepped. That was not our only option for escape or means of distraction, but I panicked and behaved selfishly. I crossed a professional line, and I understand if you found my actions unacceptable. I will gladly request a transfer right away, if you don’t wish to work together any longer. I… I also understand if you believe decommissioning is necessary. I take full responsibility for my actions, and I—”
“Rex.”
His mouth snaps shut, and he opens his eyes, unsure when he had closed them. His General’s expression is torn, something softly broken in his voice, as he asks, “Do you regret kissing me?”
He tries not to flinch at that question. There’s a hundred things he should say to attempt to save face, anything to appease and lessen his inevitable sentence. But, he can’t lie. Not to his General.
“No. I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Anakin beckons him closer, “Rex, come here.” When he doesn’t move, he insists, “Please.”
Rex steps forward, until the back of his hand brushes the plush cot he sits on. His hand aches to reach out and touch him. The longing is so strong and heavy in his chest, how desperately he wants to hold him and keep him safe. Seeing him here hurt, because he failed to protect him. As if reading his mind, he startles when Anakin’s fingers thread between his own and squeezes.
Rex stares wide eyed at the Jedi, who smiles kindly, “I have something for you. Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just do it, Rex.”
He huffs, a little eased by the familiar tone of their banter, and obliges. Anakin lets his hand go and places something cold, made of metal, in his hand. Briefly, he believes it’s his blaster that he gave Anakin in that alley that was never returned. However, the shape is wrong, and when he opens his eyes, he’s confused to find his General’s lightsaber in his hand.
He looks imploringly to Anakin, who answers him without further delay, “Obi-Wan’s told me time and time again that this lightsaber is my life. It is the most important thing I will ever own. I don’t always treat it the best, and sometimes it gets away from me during battles, but it never fails to have my back and keep me safe when I need it most. My kyber crystal, it’s attuned to me. I can always sense it, and it can sense me. We are one in the same. My lightsaber is my life.” Anakin curls his hand over Rex’s, forcing him to hold onto the saber with a tightened grip, “I trust you, Rex. With my life. All of it. All of me.”
Rex can’t let it go, not after a declaration like that, but he still…
“But, I—I broke—”
“You did nothing I didn’t also want, Rex.”
That catches him off guard. He can hardly believe it. He can’t—
Anakin smiles, bright and warm like binary suns. He confidently asks, as if there’s no doubt in his mind, as if he truly wants this, “Can I kiss you, Rex?”
Oh.
Oh.
“Please.”
Anakin places a gentle hand at his jaw and pulls him into a fiery, desperate kiss. It’s everything, it’s solar, it’s nebulous, it’s infinite. He could stay here, wrapped in Anakin’s arms, holding his lightsaber close to his chest, and kissing the breath from his lungs, forever.
Rex pulls away first, but only to press his forehead to Anakin’s in a Keldabe kiss. It makes the Jedi sigh and laugh softly, possibly the happiest sound he’s ever heard from him. Rex reaches down to his holster, and removes the second blaster from it, and hands it to Anakin.
“I trust you, too, Anakin. Always.”
Anakin presses another breathless kiss to his lips, eager and precious.