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Prompts: Tubies/Cadets + ‘What the hell is eggnog?’
Fox was cross-legged on the ground, leaning against the wall as he held a regulation manual in his hand. His eyes skimmed the rules and scrolled down, it was one of the many tasks their batch leader made them do.
And he seemed to be the only one that actually did it.
“I heard we’re gettin’ new batchmates.”
A voice rang in his ears and he looked up, tilting his head slightly, his eyes focusing on Wolffe. New batchmates? Did he hear that right? “Huh?”
“Yeah,” Wolffe snorted softly, sitting down next to Fox, his face contorted in annoyance as he glanced down at the datapad. It didn’t need to be due in until a couple rotations. Typical.
“Isn’t Cody enough?” He muttered, shoving at the other, his shoulder pressed up against him. Too much closeness, never a space for boundaries, as per usual.
“Hey, what!” Said clone piped up, he climbed down his pod and stormed over to them, glaring at the twins. He frowned as his nose scrunched up. “Not cool!”
“We’re only three, vod,” Wolffe murmured, leaning his head against Fox’s temple, his eyes scanning the words that didn’t he didn’t properly comprehend.
“And? Cody counts as three,” Fox grumbled and pushed Wolffe away with his hand. He turned his head to get the feel of breath off his skin, but something caught his eye out of the window.
What were the longnecks up to this time?
“I’m literally right here, y’know?” Cody rolled his eyes and sat down enthusiastically in front of his two older brothers, his legs curling up to his chest
“Yeah, but other batches have five,” Wolffe sighed, leaning away and against the wall. He heard silence, no snarky response, he raised an eyebrow at his twin.
“Uh, ori’vod?” The youngest mumbled, noticing the same thing, he tilted his body to the side to see what Fox was looking at.
“Fox, what are you doing?” The other clone turned around, he flicked his gaze around to the window. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, knowing him, it could be anything. It could quite literally just be a new crack in the wall.
“Shut up, I’m spying!” Fox shushed the two, elbowing Wolffe in the side, ignoring the splutter and insults
“Why?” Wolffe asked, gripping Fox’s shoulder and leaning over him.
“And on who?” Cody muttered, standing up, so he was taller than the other two, trying to see what was going on. Fox always spied, always claimed it was to keep them safe.
Fox turned his head and looked up, he rolled his eyes and pointed his thumb to where he was looking. “The longnecks, duh.”
“Oh. What are they doin’ now?” Wolffe’s demeanour shifted as the Kaminoans were mentioned, it was always something with them.
“They’re eatin’ weird cream goo,” Fox sighed, his face turning into a grimace.
It was silent, Wolffe and Cody shot each other a glance. Before focusing their gaze on the said longneck.
“Uh, what?”
“Oh! Ew, the hell is that?” Wolffe exclaimed in disgust as he realised what his brother was actually looking at. He pushed Fox to the side, stealing his space.
Fox let out a sharp puff of air at that and sat back up. “That’s what I was saying!”
“Whatever it is, they look like they’re enjoying it,” Wolffe whipped his head away and stretched out his legs against the cool floor.
“I wanna try it.”
“What?” Fox snapped his head around, glaring at the younger clone.
“Yeah, we are not sneaking out to get any,” Wolffe scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, absolutely not,” Fox murmured.
They weren’t going to go steal some weird coloured-glob for Cody, not at all. No way
“Whose idea was it to sneak out?” Fox sighed, his hand leaning on his hip as he glanced at the locked door.
“Um, yours?” Wolffe arched an eyebrow, shaking his head in exasperation.
“All because Cody was gonna sob over this, huh?” He murmured, shooting a glance over to the smaller one.
“Don’t be so mean!” Cody pouted, he pointed at the door. “Just unlock it!”
“Fine, whatever.” Fox walked up to the door, he grabbed the knife he had in his shoe, and cut open the machinery of the door, slicing the wires.
“Happy?”
Cody nodded his head energetically and rushed inside before any of them could say anything.
“We’re seriously stealing their food?” Wolffe asked. He quickly looked both ways in the hallway, before hesitantly following after both of them.
“Duh, they deserve it.” Fox hopped on the table and leant his elbows on his thighs, resting his chin on his hands
“They deserve… getting their food stolen?” The twin spoke slowly, drawing out his sarcasm.
“Yep,” the other hummed, a wicked grin on his face.
“Wow, tat, your reasons are gettin’ sloppy,” Wolffe laughed, his head turning to glance at Cody.
“Shut your big mouth,” Fox groused, looking away.
Cody looked in all the cabinets, one by one, until he found a box of all of them. He let out a grunt as he lifted them up, he walked over to the others, slamming the box down by accident.
“Careful! You almost—“ A whiff of the smell hit Fox’s nose and he slapped his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a gag.
“What… what is—?” The clone let out another strong gag, his eyes squeezing shut. He hopped off the table and ran to the other side of the room.
“Thanks, kih’vod. You got ‘im started, now,” Wolffe sighed, wincing at the dramatic noises.
“Not my fault his gag reflex is sad.” Cody waved his hand, brushing it off as he looked down at the drink-like pots.
“Just try it, already.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Cody grabbed a pot and peeled it open, he grinned, about to put his finger in, until…
Footsteps.
As always, they were never that lucky.
That got the attention of all three of them. Cody grabbed the heavy box and ran into the cabinet, followed by Fox and Wolffe. They all huddled in there, trying to keep quiet.
Fox, on the other hand.
The smell was extremely close to him, he clenched his small hands against his knees. His teeth dug into his lower lip, needing to stifle those retches.
Why did Cody bring the damn thing in with them?
Wolffe snapped his head around and caught Fox’s cheek in between his finger and thumb, a silent ‘shut up before we get caught.’
Fox gritted his teeth and slapped at Wolffe’s hand. He turned to the door of the cabinet, holding his breath until he heard the main door slide open and close again.
Fox slammed open the cabinet and took in a deep breath. “I was gonna die, I was actually gonna throw up.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Wolffe breathed out, rubbing his forehead with his palm.
“We could’ve gotten caught—“
“You decided to go here—“
“Yeah, well—wait, Cody!”
“Ugh,” Fox grumbled and rushed after Cody, he opened the door and they ran back to their batch room.
“I hope this was worth it,” Wolffe muttered, shutting the door and staring at Cody. He was sitting down on the floor, smiling widely at the pots.
Fox held his nose roughly, his eyes glaring daggers at Cody. “You’re disgusting.”
Cody shrugged and grabbed the pot, ripping the rest of it open, he held the rim to his lips and started drinking it.
“This wouldn’t have been worth cleaning duty.” Wolffe walked to a crate and sat down on it.
“It smells even worse in the open—“
“Will you stop whining?!” Wolffe groaned out, burying his face in his hands.
“Hmph. So, how does it taste?” Fox stuck his tongue out at Wolffe and looked to Cody.
The younger clone was frozen on the spot, he opened his mouth to speak, but covered his mouth. He shot up and rushed to the ‘fresher.
“All this for him to—ugh! You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Fox waved his arms up in annoyance, they literally had to sneak in and out of rooms, just for his younger brother to be sick?
What a waste.
“I’ll check on him.” Wolffe rolled his eyes and opened the door, he settled next to Cody and rubbed his back.
“Mhm.” Fox gave a small nod, he glanced down at the pot, it reeked badly. He slowly knelt down and held it, he moved the pot around, it was quite thick. Unappetising.
He didn’t get to spite the Kaminoans, yet.
“Cody?” Wolffe spoke softly, slowly kneeling down next to the youngest.
“Too sweet, too… ew. The texture was terrible,” Cody whispered shakily, his small hands rubbing his eyes. How did something that he liked the smell of taste so bad?
“You should have tried it in the kitchen, Codes,” Wolffe murmured, pulling him against his chest, his hand pressing against the back of Cody’s head.
“The longnecks snuck in,” he murmured, chewing at his nail.
“Yeah… I know. You good?”
“Better.” Cody shrugged and stood up. He flushed the toilet and walked to the sink. He pressed the button and tilted his head under the sink to wash out his mouth
“Just get that taste outta ya,” Wolffe mumbled, patting Cody’s back.
“Think ‘m good…” he wiped his lips and walked out of the ‘fresher.
“Fox was right, it wouldn’t be good…” Cody sighed in annoyance, because when wasn’t he? “Why is he always right?”
Fox heard the voices and quickly looked up, his eyes were wide, like he was a deer caught in ship lights, he slowly placed his hands down. “Uh…”
Wolffe flicked his gaze down to the five empty cups of goo that Cody hated.
“Fox. You… did you just eat…?”
“What? It’s revenge!” Fox snapped out in embarrassment and grabbed another pot, looking down. “We didn’t get to annoy the longnecks!”
“I’m actually repulsed to be related to you.” Wolffe pushed at Fox’s head as he walked past him.
“Hey, what! It was to spite them, vod’ika—I swear!” Fox abruptly stood up and rushed over to Wolffe, lunging on top of him to the floor.
They all knew it wasn’t spite, and that was the moment they realised Fox had a sweet tooth.
Prompts: “Hot chocolate” “AU” “Fives” “Echo” and “I’m just glad we’re together”
Happy Clones for the Holidays!
I always wished Fives would come back to the show, and that he and Echo would get a chance to talk everything over. Your prompts gave me the perfect idea for an AU about it! I imagine them sitting down with hot chocolate and trading stories about the end of the war and their time apart, and how they found each other again.
The heat radiating from the small, portable fire pit did little to chase the cold that lived permanently in Dogma’s chest. He sat alone in the barracks common area—long after the rest of his current squad had turned in—staring into the swirling orange heart of the flames. They were a pathetic substitute for the roaring funeral pyres he’d seen, or the fierce, alien sun of the planet that haunted his nightmares.
Umbara.
The word was a silent, agonizing curse he tasted every time he drew a breath.
The fire cast dancing shadows, momentarily softening the hard, etched lines of his face, making him look younger, almost like the rookie clone he used to be. And the sight of the flames, simple and warm, brought with them a cruel, sharp spike of nostalgia.
It wasn’t the kind of nostalgia that comforted; it was the kind that ripped open old wounds and shoved salt in the raw flesh.
He closed his eyes, and the firelight behind his eyelids became the blazing sunset over Kamino. He could hear it then, not the silence of this late hour, but the boisterous laughter echoing from a cramped barracks hallway.
He remembered: The raw, dizzying joy of their last night together before deployment, challenging their training schedules. Waxer, with his dry wit and perpetually amused smile, had somehow managed to steal a crate of unauthorized synth-ale. Rash, always the first to try any dangerous stunt, had promptly attempted to juggle the cans. Myo, the quiet medic, was actually humming a jaunty, unauthorised tune. And Hardcase. Hardcase, whose reckless energy was infectious, was spinning a tale about a near-disaster on a cargo lift, his eyes wide and bright with a life he should have kept.
They were alive. They were his brothers. They were perfect, not as soldiers, but as men—full of flaws and fire and an unshakable loyalty that had nothing to do with conditioning.
A tear, hot and swift, tracked a path through the grime on Dogma’s cheek.
He opened his eyes. The flames hissed, reminding him of plasma fire. The memory evaporated, replaced by the sickening echo of his own voice in the jungles of Umbara.
“We have our orders!”
He hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second. While others—Rex, Jesse, Fives—had questioned the insanity of the tactics, Dogma had dug his boots in. He’d seen the armor. He’d heard the orders barked.
“Sir, yes, Sir!”
He had been the perfect soldier. The perfect weapon.
The memory was a montage of horror: the sickening sound of blaster bolts hitting clone armor; the terrified, guttural screams he realized, too late, were the voices of his own batchmates; the absolute, blinding certainty of doing the right thing, swiftly replaced by the soul-shattering realization of betrayal.
He had fired. He had reloaded. He had taken his position. He had done exactly as he was told.
Because of him, because of his unquestioning obedience, the laughter, the synth-ale stories, the bright, reckless life in Hardcase’s eyes—it had all been extinguished.
Dogma reached out a trembling hand toward the fire, pulling it back as the heat stung his skin.
They won’t be making any more memories.
No more challenges. No more late-night talks about the war’s end. No more standing side-by-side, truly unified, facing an enemy that wasn’t them. The endless stream of potential, of future moments, had been cut off at the root by a monster in General’s robes and the loyal soldier who had enabled him.
The ultimate, brutal irony was that his perfection—his flawless execution of a destructive command—was the very thing that had ensured his survival and, simultaneously, the loss of everything that had made survival worthwhile.
He closed his fist, feeling the cheap, rough wool of the blanket draped over his shoulders. I am alive.
And they weren’t.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the flames, the words dissolving into the smoky air, a confession that would never reach the ears of the dead. “I was a good soldier.”
I had a lot of fun with your prompts, so I really hope you enjoy the finished product.
Featuring: Rex alongside the Bad Batch (+ Fives)
Prompts: overly competitive snowball fight; "better late than never"; cold.
This was, perhaps, the most ridiculous situation Rex had ever been in.
That was saying something, given what he’d been through during the war. He had, by no small miracle, survived every one of Skywalker’s insane plans. He’d even concocted a few himself. As a captain, he had mostly kept his men from winding up in prison or blowing up the barracks, and he’d mediated his fair share of pointless squabbles.
Somehow, it all seemed very reasonable in the face of this.
From his vantage point atop the small hill, Rex surveyed the site of the upcoming battle. The flat field was pristine and undisturbed for the moment, coated in a thick layer of snow which glittered in the weak sunlight. The clouds formed from the heat of his breath were slow to disperse in the chill of the morning. Rex doubted it would warm much during the day, and he was grateful for the thick coats that one of his brothers had had the foresight to pack.
He glanced over his shoulder as loud conversation drifted up from the open door of the Marauder, parked beside Rex’s own ship on the side of the hill. He’d declined the offer to travel in their already-overcrowded shuttle. It was barely enough space for the four clones it had originally carried, let alone the extra three they’d picked up since then. Both vessels were dusted in snow after last night, and while Rex didn’t expect the Empire to be looking for rogue clones on an uninhabited planet of the outer rim, the slight gift of camouflage was a small comfort. As he observed, his brothers and sister began to file out of their ship.
Leading the charge, Omega skipped the stairs in favour of leaping right into the snow. Rex watched as she landed, buried up to her knees, and toppled over with a yelp. The child-sized disturbance in the show was the only sign of where she had been standing.
Hunter appeared barely a second later with Crosshair right on his heels. They practically tripped over each other in their race to reach Omega, even as she pulled herself out of the snow and assured them that she was fine, seriously, stop fussing. They fussed anyway. Hunter hoisted her into the air and set her on his shoulders, and despite her initial protest, Omega giggled and flung her arms out to enjoy the experience as three of them began the climb up the hill.
Next out the door was Tech, head down as he tapped at something on his datapad. He’d barely descended the steps when Wrecker emerged behind him and reached over to pluck the datapad right out of his hands. He headed back inside with the confiscated device as Tech scrambled after him. When they reappeared moments later, Wrecker was carrying a large bag in one hand and pushing his brother along with the other.
Echo wasn’t far behind them, despite his pause in the doorway to yell something back into the ship — presumably to Fives, who was noticeably not following. Odd, given how hyped up he’d been over the event two days ago.
At the top of the hill, Hunter set Omega back on the ground. She waded through the snow to stand in front of Rex.
“Do you have them?” she asked.
Nodding, Rex reached into a pouch on his belt and produced two long, slim packets. He gave them a shake, listening to the powder shift within. The sickly, neon yellow writing, barely distinguishable from the garish orange and pink background, proclaimed the contents of the packets as The Best Instant Hot Chocolates in the Galaxy, Guaranteed!
Despite the abhorrent design choices, the statement was close enough to true. Rex had wound up with pallets of it after stealing a shipment of what he had been informed — very incorrectly — were explosives. In an effort to reduce his supply, he’d offloaded a few boxes to Pabu, and his brothers there had very quickly developed a liking for it.
They’d burned through most of their supply by the time Rex came to visit again. His own rebellion network had used up all of theirs. A quick bit of research revealed that the company had long gone out of business, their recipe lost with them, and thus it was very possible that Clone Force 99 were in possession of the last two in existence.
Thus, today.
Seven competitors in a game which was half capture the flag, half snowball fight, and wholly more competitive than the situation warranted. The Galaxy’s Most Important Snowball Fight, as Omega had dubbed it. Somehow, Rex had been roped into playing referee.
As three of the four remaining competitors crested the hill, Rex returned the packets to his pouch.
He raised an eyebrow at Echo. “Where’s Fives?”
“Not coming,” Echo answered, frowning. “Claims he’s developed ‘an aversion to chocolate’.”
Wrecker snorted. “Since when?”
“He stole from my stash this morning,” Omega noted sceptically. “And I know it was him because he always forgets to put the lid back on the box.”
“He’s probably just afraid of losing,” Crosshair stated.
Echo shook his head. “I know Fives. He’s up to something.”
“That seems probable,” Tech agreed.
At the back of the group, Hunter tilted his head slightly. Rex recognised the movement; his brother was picking up on something that was beyond reach from the rest of them.
“Hunter?” he asked, gripping his blaster reflexively. “What is it?”
“Something's off,” Hunter answered, shaking his head. “I can't place it.”
“The empire?” Omega suggested.
Rex didn't miss the way that both Crosshair and Tech stiffened at the mention of it.
“No, nothing like that,” Hunter assured them. He looked at Rex. “Just keep an eye out for Fives.”
“I will,” Rex promised. A close eye, because he definitely had something planned. “At least we have even numbers now.”
With a laugh, Wrecker clapped Tech on the back. “There goes your last excuse to not compete.”
Tech adjusted his goggles. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Rex agreed completely. Regardless, he gestured for Wrecker to open the bag he’d brought up with him.
Wrecker dropped the bag in the centre of their little gathering and unzipped it, earning a gasp from Omega as she saw its contents for the first time.
Despite having helped pack the bag, Rex still didn’t quite believe his eyes. The bag was stuffed full of plush tookas in varying shades of brown, though they looked more like mutant mud creatures in Rex’s opinion. His possession of them was the result of another error by an informant. Maybe he needed to be spending more time fact-checking his sources…
“Here’s the rules,” Rex began, picking up a tooka. “Teams of two. The tookas are all going to go in the centre of that field. You’re all going at start at least twenty metres away, not too close to each other, and you get ten minutes to set up a base. Whoever has the most tookas half an hour after that wins. Clear?”
A chorus of affirmatives rose from the group, and Rex dropped the tooka back in the bag.
“Off you go. Sort out your teams on the way down.”
Twenty five minutes later, the field was a long way from pristine.
Three hastily-constructed forts had sprung up from the landscape, leaving large divots in the snow which had supplied the building materials. Echo and Tech’s was the most functional and the largest, given that they’d chosen to get a head start while Hunter and Crosshair fought over teams. There had been a lot of shouting and pushing until Rex had threatened to just throw the hot chocolate powder out. That had worked. Wrecker had dragged a sulky Crosshair away by the back of his coat while Hunter helped Omega through some of the deeper areas of snow.
The bag was now empty of tookas, though Rex was certain some of them had been dropped and lost beneath the snow, where they would probably stay. A strange gift for the next visitor to this particular location.
At the gentle crunch of footsteps through behind him, Rex turned his head.
“Better late than never,” he called as Fives crested the hill with a mug of caf in each hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to compete?”
Fives shook his head, but the glint in his eyes immediately had Rex on edge. He laid a protective hand over the pouch at his belt.
“Relax.” Fives rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to steal them.”
Rex kept his guard up anyway as he accepted a mug from Fives with his free hand. The column of steam spiralling from it mingled lazily with the clouds of his breath in the air, though Rex didn’t imagine it would retain its heat for long. “Thanks.”
“Is Crosshair building a snowman?” Fives questioned, squinting down at the field.
Following his gaze, Rex saw that the sniper was indeed working on something that loosely resembled a snowman. Behind him, Wrecker lay down fire to keep Hunter from getting too close to the odd sculpture.
When Crosshair stepped to the side to pack down some of the snow, he revealed the true, malignant nature of the snowman—or, rather, snowgirl.
“Hunter, hurry up,” Omega yelled, struggling to escape the snow prison built up to her neck. “It’s cold in here!”
Fives chuckled as Rex pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Crosshair!” Rex called across the field, earning him a glance from the man in question. “No trapping your opponents.”
Sighing dramatically, Crosshair turned back and pulled Omega free of her prison. He carried her across their territory and past their tooka collection, paying no mind to her efforts to wriggle free. He set her down in the snow, gentler than Rex would've thought Crosshair capable of, and Omega took off at a sprint for Hunter. The two of them retreated back to their fort, which now held significantly less tookas thanks to the efforts of Echo and Tech during the commotion.
Sipping his caf, Fives surveyed the field in front of them. He snickered as a snowball from Hunter caught Echo in the face. “Who do you think will win?”
“Hard to say,” Rex answered, watching Echo’s counterattack send Hunter ducking for cover. “It’s still early.”
Fives glanced at him sideways and smirked. “You’ve already got someone in mind, though.”
Rather than answer, he finally took a sip of his caf. It was blissfully warm, a welcome contrast to the frosty air, and—
“This is hot chocolate,” Rex stated.
Fives grinned. “Excellent observation, captain.”
He took another sip. “This is the hot chocolate.”
“Right again.”
“The one that is currently in my belt.”
In proof, Rex pulled the two packets from his pouch. He looked them over, as if he might have possibly mistaken their horrible designs for something else.
“Ah, not quite,” Fives countered. He took a sip of his own drink, then held out a hand. “May I?”
Rex handed one of the packets over and held Fives’ drink in return. Rather than ripping it open along the tear line, Fives gently separated the two edges joined by adhesive, leaving the packet itself undamaged and creating just enough of an opening to see the expected brown powder inside. A small amount puffed up into the air.
Rex frowned at it. “I don’t understand.”
“I replaced it,” Fives explained, beaming. He began the work of resealing the packet. “This is just the stuff from the jar on the ship.”
“Why— Actually, forget that. When did you do this?” Rex questioned. He took the packet back from Fives and returned them both to his pouch, though guarding them so closely seemed silly now.
“While you were sleeping last night.”
Years on the battlefield had prevented Rex from ever being a heavy sleeper. He still woke reaching for his gun when wild birds perched on the hull of his ship, or when the critters living in the walls of his hideout on Coruscant skittered by too quickly. So sleeping through someone stealing from beneath his pillow was impossible, unless…
“You drugged me,” Rex stated. He levelled his brother with a glare.
Fives flinched. “Sorry, captain. But you wouldn’t have agreed to my plan.”
He was right. Rex still didn’t agree to his plan, even if he had unwittingly benefited from it. It was too late now, though…
As Rex took another sip of his drink, he made sure to savour the taste properly this time.
“And to answer your other question,” Fives continued, “I did it because none of them can actually tell the difference. I tested. You and I are the only ones. I didn’t want something so wonderful and so scarce to go to waste.”
“I’m pretty sure Hunter can smell the difference,” Rex told him, frowning. “They’re going to kill you if they find out.”
“It would have been worth it.”
Rex rolled his eyes, turning back to the field. “I’ll make sure to say that during your memorial service.”
Rating: T for some language but it's all Star wars curses really
Prompts: Snowed in and first Life Day
It was too early for this. Too early for malfunctioning weather systems. Too early for backlogged emergency systems.
Too early for snow.
He’d never seen it before and was completely over it.
Fox stood behind the console in HQ, gloved fingers poised above the interface. The single window at the end of the room framed a strange sight, the upper levels of Coruscant, usually grey and shining, were now muted by thick, white snow. It clung to ledges and railings, to every surface, soft, wet and heavy and completely inconvenient.
No one had seen this much snow on Coruscant in years. The official reason was a malfunction in one of the upper-level weather regulation units. Temporary, supposedly. But Fox was starting to think someone had deliberately reprogrammed it to ‘festive.’
He didn’t look up when the door opened.
“You’re early,” Fox muttered. “Or late. I can’t tell anymore.”
“Same difference this week,” Thorn said, stepping in. He carried two steaming mugs of caf in one hand. “You been here all night?”
Fox didn’t answer. Thorn handed over one of the mugs without comment. It was hot and strong, that’s all that mattered.
“Still snowing,” Thorn said after a long beat, glancing out the window like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “This planet wasn’t built for snow.”
“No kidding. Senate plaza had to be cleared by hand.” Fox set his mug on the edge of the console. “Apparently an elderly senator slipped near the monument steps. Fractured her hip.”
Thorn winced. “She okay?”
“She was still yelling at Thire when the medics took her. So, I’d assume so.” Fox tapped a control pad, flicking through incident reports. “We’ve got speeder collisions stacking up, three minor fires from faulty heating units that we had to reroute to Coruscant Fire, don’t ask me why,, two brawls tied to holiday parties involving Senate personnel, and a charity gala last night that resulted in one senator crashing his speeder after a drunk driving incident. Of course the Guard must be wrong on the cause of the crash.” Fox let out a sigh
Thorn leaned against the edge of the console, blowing on his caf. “So… Life Day.”
Fox grunted.
“Bit much?”
Fox gave him a look. “I’ll be happy when it’s over and the Senate is in recess. Nothing but music and decorations and the like. And now this.” He gestured vaguely at the window. “Tell me it’s not a coordinated attack.”
Thorn chuckled. “You think someone programmed the snow to match the Life Day ads?”
Fox shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the dumbest op I’ve seen run out of the Senate.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “If I see another dancing Wookiee advert I’ll have all screens removed from the barracks.”
“Come on,” Thorn said. “It’s not all bad. I mean, if you ignore the corporate saturation and the drunk senators. Some of the traditions aren’t terrible.” He raised a brow. “Food, drinks, lights. Decorations. That kind of thing.”
Fox gave him a flat look. “Ration paste and protein cubes under some strung up lights?”
Thorn sipped his caf. “You could at least try.”
“I am trying. I’m trying to keep us from being buried.”
Thorn set his mug down beside Fox’s. “Senator sent us a gift box yesterday.”
Fox didn’t look up. “I heard.”
“Expired fruitcake,” Thorn said. “Stamped three years ago. We had to toss the whole thing.”
“Not shocked.
“It’s our first one,” Thorn said, quietly. “Life Day, I mean.”
Fox didn’t respond right away. His eyes tracked a new alert flashing in the corner of the screen.
“It’s strange,” Thorn continued, “but… I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be bad.”
Fox exhaled slowly. “We’re not civilians. We don’t get leave. We don’t get bonuses or hot drinks or knitted scarves. We get day shifts, night shifts, and boxes of expired things from people who couldn’t pick us out of a line-up and consider it their tax write off.”
He jabbed a finger toward a growing stack of datapad. “You want to see Life Day? Here it is. Crashed speeders, fires, injuries, and one drunken senator who tried to kiss a trooper during a press photo op.”
Thorn blinked. “Which one?”
Fox flashed him an irritated look and ignored the question.
Another alert chimed.
Fox stared at the screen, jaw tightening.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.
#^#^#^#^#^
The Chancellor’s office was warm, too warm really. The polished floor, the towering windows, everything gleamed.
Not a single decoration or music to be found.
Fox stood at parade rest, boots clean despite the slush he’d walked through to get here. His back ached. He hadn’t slept properly in thirty hours.
Palpatine sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly.
“Commander Fox,” Palpatine said smoothly. “I trust your men are managing despite the weather?”
“We are, sir,” Fox replied. “Additional support requests have been in effect across several levels due to the disruptions. Emergency response times are delayed. We are doing what we can.”
Palpatine gave a hum. “I’ve seen the incident summaries. Tell me, these injury reports, ten troopers, is it?”
“Yes, sir. Mostly cold weather related.”
“Cold weather?” Palpatine raised one pale brow. “Your armor is thermo-regulated, is it not?”
“It is,” Fox said evenly.
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t mention how one of the shinies had slipped on an iced-over landing pad and fractured a wrist. How two more had to be treated for the early stages of exposure after being posted outside the Senate complex without proper gear overnight. That another had skidded trying to redirect a careening speeder and had nearly been crushed.
Palpatine didn’t comment, didn’t wish the Troopers well. He didn’t ask for details.
Fox stayed silent.
Palpatine set the datapad down. “I’m told one of our more senior Senators suffered an unfortunate fall?”
“Yes, sir. Senator Mallern. She slipped on the stairs outside the Senate rotunda this morning. Snow hadn’t been cleared yet.”
Palpatine made a small, sympathetic sound. “Unfortunate.”
“Medical services were delayed. The Guard remained with her. They performed an initial assessment and stabilized the injury. She was transferred to a Med Facility. Hip fracture. She’ll be in recovery through the holiday.”
“I see,” Palpatine said lightly. “And what has been done to address the issue?”
“My men cleared the area. It's been taken care of.”
“Very good.” Palpatine nodded, leaning back in his chair with that same unreadable smile. “Your vigilance never wavers, Commander. It’s thanks to men like you that the Senate may continue its business uninterrupted.”
Fox’s hands tightened behind his back. “Yes, sir.”
“It cannot be overstated,” Palpatine continued, “how essential your men are to the functioning of the Republic. Especially at this time of year. It will allow a great many to be able to spend the holiday with their families.”
There was a long pause.
Fox gave a stiff nod. “Understood, sir.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Palpatine smiled again, as if that was the end of it. “You’re dismissed, Commander.”
Fox turned on his heel and walked out without a word.
######
Headquarters was louder than usual when Fox returned.
Not in the way of shouting or alarms. Just voices and laughing. It took him a moment to find the source. Off-duty troopers gathered in small groups in one of the rec rooms. Technically they were off duty but told to stay close and ready on standby given all that was going on. They’d sprawled across benches and the floor. Most were in half kit. Fox didn’t have it in him to enforce any sort of rule today.
A screen was playing something loud and obnoxiously cheerful, a seemingly endless loop of Life Day ads. Animated families in matching sweaters clustered around fireplaces. And food. So much food.
One of the shinies, face still round with youth, tilted his head. “You think that food’s real?”
“They can’t possibly have so many different kinds,” another said, skeptically. “That bread looks fake.”
“Bet it’s real,” a third added. “Senators get all that stuff. The fancy meals. They probably eat like that every night.”
“They don’t even cook it themselves. They’ve got house droids.”
“Droids can cook?”
“Yeah. And serve it, too.”
“Day I let a clanker cook for me is the day you can write me off lads,” That one earned a round of raucous laughter.
Thorn was leaned casually against the door with a half-empty cup of caf in one hand. His eyes were on the holoscreen. He made a face.
“If I hear that song again,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
It got a few quiet snorts. Fox could empathize. That particular song had been everywhere. In every kriffing office and elevator.
Fox watched from the hall, hovering at the periphery.
Thorn noticed him as he finally moved, heading toward the main office and caught up without a word.
Fox stripped off his gloves and set them on the side table, flexing cold fingers. Thorn busied himself topping off his caf, and handing Fox a fresh mug.
“You looked like you needed it.”
Fox accepted it, holding it for a moment to warm his fingers.
The office still colder than it should have been despite maintenance claiming the heating unit was functioning within acceptable parameters. Fox suspected it’d been turned to minimum to save costs.
“How was it?” Thorn asked eventually.
Fox took a long sip. “Standard. Minor injuries questioned. Emphasis on how much our presence supports is welcome, if only so that everyone else gets time off.”
Thorn made a low sound in his throat. “He say that?”
“Not in those words.” Fox paused. “But yes.”
Thorn sank into the chair opposite. “Snow’s still coming down. You think they’re going to bother fixing it at all?”
“No.”
Another silence.
Thorn tapped a finger against the side of his mug. “Some of the troopers’ve been watching those ads between shifts.”
“I saw.”
“They’re curious. First time they’ve seen a holiday from the outside. Some of ‘em were asking if decorations were regulation.”
Fox raised a brow. “They’re not.”
“I know.” Thorn shrugged. “Still. Might be good for morale. Let ‘em make a few. Nothing too over the top. String lights. Flimsi stars or something. I can look up some stuff.”
Fox leaned back, eyes closed for a moment. Then opened them again.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with duty rosters.”
Thorn nodded. “Understood.”
Fox added, “And for kriff’s sake, if I hear that song again....”
That got a real grin out of Thorn.
“I’ll let them know.”
#^#^#^#^#
The Senate rotunda was winding down for recess.
Fox’s boots echoed across the polished floors. The usual swarm of aides and attachés had thinned. The halls and offices still full of the Life Day decor.
Thire and another trooper were at the main entrance.
“Building’s nearly empty, Commander,” Thire said as Fox approached. “Not many left in the building. Chancellor’s already left. No incidents since the morning’s fall.”
Fox nodded. “Good. Let me know if that changes.”
He made his way along the upper corridor. A handful of senators still lingered in conference rooms, but most were already off-world or headed back to their penthouses or vacation homes or the like.
He was just about to move on when a figure stepped out from a side corridor, robed, composed, speaking quietly to an aide before dismissing them. Senator Bail Organa. His expression shifted when he spotted Fox.
The senator paused, offered a polite nod and a smile.
Bail glanced down the corridor, then back at him. “I hope your men have something planned for Life Day. Something to look forward to.”
“We don’t get time off, sir. But we’re provided for.” Fox said after a moment of trying to get a read on the Senator. He always came across calm and composed and almost friendly. Made an effort to learn their names and succeeded most of the time.
A slight crease formed between Bail’s brows. “Surely not just the usual right?” he stopped himself. “I thought the Guard at least received a proper meal.”
Fox met his gaze evenly, through his visor. “We’re clones.”
Bail inclined his head. “Right.”
His tone was measured but he clenched his jaw before exhaling and shaking his head.
“I won’t keep you, Commander,” he said after a breath. “I’ll be out of here shortly. I have a couple more things to take care of in my office and then I’ll be gone as well. I’ll be sure to check out with Thire.”
Fox nodded. “Senator.”
At least he followed protocol.
Organa moved down the corridor, back in the direction of his office. He didn’t look back.
Fox stood there a moment trying to figure out just what the kriff that all had been before moving on.
#^#^#^#^#^#
Fox made it back to HQ some time later.
He needed to warm up, get to the reports waiting on his desk. Maybe, if he was lucky, five minutes to sit down before another emergency comm came through.
Instead, he stopped short just inside the main corridor, blinking as he removed his bucket.
The place was… glowing.
Glow rods of various colors ran the length of the ceiling supports, zip-tied in place at uneven intervals. Light were strung up.
He made his way into the rec room and it was busy as he expected it to be.
Paper cutouts hung from the rafters, some bearing the Guard insignia or various squad designations or the like, others painted with stylized stars, snowflakes, or other Life Day characters no doubt picked up from the ads. A few pinup girls had made it into the mix, tasteful by barracks standards at least.
What surprised him most was the makeshift “tree” built from a pyramid of supply crates, each one slightly smaller than the one underneath it. The top crate had a bent glowstick sticking out of it and it was strung up with lights and garland and gaudy colored decorations. It was ridiculous. And strangely… impressive.
Thorn was in the middle of it all, hanging up another one of the paper stars.
“Before you say anything,” he said, catching Fox’s eye, “they checked every light for shorts. I personally tested the whole set in the hall. Nothing caught fire.”
Fox’s eyes flicked from the lights to the crate tree and back.
“Paper’s all been written off, sitting in storage for months,” Thorn went on. “No shift coverage was missed. The glow rods expire next month anyway.”
Fox raised a brow.
“And the tree,” Thorn added, nodding toward it, “was my idea.”
The shinies working on the garlands paused when they noticed him. One straightened a little too fast. Another instinctively tried to salute with his hands full before Fox waved them down.
“It looks good,” he said, voice even but just a touch softer. “Keep up the good work.”
The nearest trooper blinked at him like he hadn’t expected that response, and the room thawed, smiles all around. Pride. “Yes, sir.”
Thorn grinned. “See boys? Told you he wouldn’t hate it.”
Fox smiled as he turned away moving toward the hallway and leaving them to it.
He grabbed a cup of caf and made his way back to his office and dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk. Datapads were stacked across the surface, shift rotations, requisitions. Never ending. The holo unit on his desk blinked twice signalling an incoming call and Fox accepted. It blinked in and out before stabilizing.
His twin’s image flickered into view as the holo stabilized. They tried to make an effort to talk when they could. As time went on, it was less and less.
Wolffe was bundled in heavy cold-weather gear.
“Where the hell are you?” Fox asked, brow raised.
“Khorm,” Wolffe grinned. “Colder than a Kaminoan’s heart.”
Fox took a long sip from his mug. “I’d trade my left nut for that gear right now.”
“Pretty much.” Fox leaned back. “Weather control system’s glitched. We’ve got snow in the Senate plaza, iced-over walkways, cold weather injuries. Civilian speeder skidded straight into a monument.”
Wolffe’s expression soured. “And they haven’t issued you cold gear?”
Fox shrugged. “We’ve got weather control, remember? Official stance is, ‘doesn’t happen here.’ If I file the request, it’ll bounce around, and sit in a supply crate until the end of time.”
Wolffe grunted. “Think they rigged it for the holiday? If that’s the case, same thing’ll happen next year, might as well get to requisitioning it and be ready.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Fox’s voice was dry. “Might be my Life Day miracle.”
“It’s not that bad, maybe not as good looking as regular plates…”
Fox snorted, “If they let you, you’d be wrapped in a fur cloak like an Outer Rim noble”
Wolffe’s eyes gleamed at that, “Think they’d let me requisition one?”
Fox shrugged, “Knowing your General? Sure.” Fox took a sip of caf.
“You holding it together over there?” Fox asked after a moment.
“Barely. The natborn in charge of this op thinks he’s smarter than command. Keeps trying to rewrite our protocols without telling anyone.” Wolffe rolled his eyes. “I’m tempted to tell him he’s going to get someone killed, or you know, forget about him when we move out.”
“That’ll go over well I’m sure.”
“I’m cold,” Wolffe said. “My diplomacy has limits.”
Fox sighed. “How long are you stuck there?”
“Another week, maybe less. Depends. I’d almost prefer a firefight to all this osik. Some real action.”
Fox let the edge of his mouth twitch upward. “You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
The feed flickered for a second, signal strain. Fox’s comm went off.
“Glad you’re still upright.”
Fox looked at him, steady. “You too.”
Wolffe nodded once. “Alright. I need to thaw out before patrol. Stay alive.”
“You too.” Fox agreed
The feed cut and Fox answered his comm.
Thire’s voice came through, calm but slightly puzzled from the sound of it.
“Commander? You’ll want to come to the front.”
Fox sighed. “Now?”
“Now.”
He set the stylus down and pushed himself out of the chair, joints aching more than he cared to admit. He really would give almost anything for that cold weather gear, just to feel warm again. The hallway lights flickered overhead as he made his way to the front entry. Paper stars twisted above him as Fox passed. It really didn’t look half bad.
The scent hit him before he turned the corner. Food. Real food.
At the front entrance, Thire stood beside a uniformed civilian, someone from a delivery service, holding a datapad and looking faintly nervous.
Behind them, sealed containers sat on two hovercarts. Thermal-sealed. Marked with the name of a restaurant Fox vaguely recognized from the Senate district, upper-tier, nothing clone-accessible.
Fox stopped a pace away.
“Commander,” Thire said. “They said it’s for us.”
The delivery man cleared his throat and held up the datapad. “We have an order here, meal service.”
Fox’s eyes narrowed. “Who authorized that?”
The man checked the confirmation slip. “Courtesy of Senator Bail Organa. With thanks.”
He glanced at Thire, who gave the barest of shrugs, completely puzzled.
Fox stepped forward, pressed his thumb to the datapad, and signed off. If it had been from any number of other Senators he would have turned it down.
“Get it to the mess,” he said to Thire. “Spread the word.”
Thire nodded and something in his face looked…relieved? Excited maybe. The smell only got stronger as the containers were moved further inside, rich, unmistakable. Troopers were already starting to emerge from side rooms, drawn by curiosity, then by disbelief.
Fox lingered in the entryway for a moment after they’d gone.
They didn’t usually get this sort of thing without strings. Not without an angle.
It could’ve been a publicity stunt. A way for Organa to feel better about their hallway conversation. Or maybe it was sincere. Fox didn’t know. The fact that he hadn’t appeared himself and made this into a press release made him think it was more the latter.
The fact was, they didn’t get to many nice things and the men deserved it. He’d deal with the fallout later, if there was any.
#^#^#^##^#
The room had filled fast.
Tables had been pulled together. Troopers sat elbow to elbow, plates in hand. The smell alone had changed the air, warmed it.
Fox sat with Thorn, Thire, and Stone near the edge of the room, a bit further back from the others. He had a warm cup of caf in hand.
Someone had rigged a holoprojector on a crate. The display flickered with an animated Life Day special played in jittery resolution. Some kind of musical number with a bunch of Wookies. The men were howling.
Fox let it wash over him. His stomach was full. The food had been fantastic. His men were safe.
Thorn shifted beside him, sipping his own caf. “Not bad for a first Life Day, eh?”
Fox didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed a group of troopers grabbing seconds, one of them trying to smuggle an extra roll into a belt pouch for later.
Finally, he nodded. “Not bad.”
Thire leaned back and let out a low chuckle. “Glowing praise.”
Fox didn’t rise to the commentary. The smallest edge of a smile pulled at his mouth.
For a little while longer, he didn’t move, he sat, caf in hand, as snow fell silently outside the windows and his men laughed loud enough to drown out the war.
And not even that same Life Day song, the same one he'd found so unbearable, could ruin this right now.
Wrapping paper banner by the awesome mod @kybercrystals94
This art and ficlet is for @ct-goggles!!
BY @totallywizard07
The Reunion
Omega was the first to see his face from across the windswept field, and a wide grin danced across her face. The smile was quickly replaced however by a grimace, tears building in her eyes as she noticed the many still bleeding cuts on his face and blood stains on his clothes.
“Tech!” She called, her legs unfreezing from their position of shock to carry her quickly over to her little brother. She wrapped her arms around him, noting with worry how he shook in her hold, and buried her face into his shoulder.
They stayed this way for a while, Omega’s sniffles slowly becoming less pronounced until she finally moved her gaze to meet his. His brown eyes- eye, she realised with a strangled gasp- was filled with its own unshed tears.
How much pain had he suffered? They had left him on Tantiss and he had become nothing more than a specimen for Hemlock’s testing, not unlike she and Crosshair. Omega knew how much pain that brought.
She looked him over again and her eyes stopped at his arm, hand clutching hers.
“T-tech… your arm,” she managed, stroking his cold, metal fingers with her own.
“A small price to pay for my fall, Omega,” he smiled sadly.
Omega knew this to be true, that to escape such a fall at all was nothing short of a miracle, but it still saddened her beyond belief to see her brother in such a state.
“Tech, I’m so sorry,” the words poured out of her. “We left you there, you almost died, we thought you had. We-“
Tech ran his remaining hand down her tear stained face, stroking her cheek gently, the tremor in his hand barely evident.
“Shhh, Omega. It is not your fault. I chose my path, as you all chose yours.” He shifted so that she was sitting against him. “What matters now is only that we are all together again.”
“A family?” Her small voice quivered.
“Yes.” He replied easily. “Our family is back together again.”
Hello, hello! I am excited to share my gift for @whiskygoldwings! I hope you enjoy it!
Prompts: First time experiencing snow and snuggle pile for warmth.
Warnings: There is a mention of Thorn's death and serves as a reoccurring them for the fic. Some bittersweet angst with soft comfort in the end.
Follow Commander Fox, Thire, Stone, Jek and Rhys as they journey to a snowy planet. During their trip, it's revealed Commander Fox has never experienced snow before and explores a winter forest, mesmerized by the beauty of snowfall and visited by a fallen brother. Worried when their Marshal Commander misses the check-in, the four track down Fox, having to seek shelter in a nearby cave.
─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───
Out of the darkness, Marshal Commander Fox took a step forward. His face red and hot. “I still think this is a terrible idea.” Fox grimaced, digging his nails into his palms upon his nervous instinct. The Coruscant Guard wasn’t supposed to stray so far from the bustling city-planet. With its days filled with sunshine and warmth. Nothing like what they were flying into.
“You’d say that no matter what we were doing.” Commander Thire laughed, popping another chip into his mouth. He was swiveling back and forth in his chair. Fox shot him a look but Thire’s wide grin softened his brother’s scowl.
“True.” Fox sighed, turning around and picking up the datapad to read the briefing he’d already memorized the night he received it. “I still don’t like this, doesn’t it all seem a little…” He paused, trying to think of the right word, “-Why send the Guard, and the leading commanders at that?” Fox couldn’t explain it, there was a ringing in his head; Something… Something was off. Thire raised his head to study his brother. The only thing off, in Thire’s opinion, was Fox. They never got sent off planet and when they did, it was with some stuffy politician that refused to breathe the same air as him.
“Fox, c’mon Vod, chill out-”
“-Ha, yeah, literally,” Commander Stone’s voice cut in, “Cheer up, old man, we’re on an actual mission for once.” He walked over to Thire, stealing a chip as he studied their brother, who, as always, seemed an anxious, sweaty mess. “Need more caf?”
“Oh, definitely,” Fox rolled his eyes, far too aware of their hushed whispers and teasing tone. “Well, no use in worrying about it.” Fox powered down the datapad, hands shaking as he forced himself to set it down. “How far are we from landing?”
“Jek and Rhys sent me in here to tell you lot to buckle up for landing in five minutes.” Stone recited as he took a seat and buckled himself in, “You ready? I hear the planet’s covered in snow.”
Thire’s eyes went wide, “Snow?” He sat up straight, “Hell, I didn’t know we’re goin’ to a planet with such extreme weather cycles.” His eyes had lit up and he was more tuned in than he had been in… well, the entire rotation. “That’s why they packed us that weird gear?”
“Yes?” Stone made a face; Thire had been there when they quite literally tuned into live feedback of the blizzards that had been raging the planet’s surface for the past month. “Vod, where’s the hell your head been?”
“Mind hasn’t been here,” He laughed, glancing over to Fox, “Can ya believe it, Fox? Snow?” Coruscant’s electric grid kept the planet far too warm to experience such a phenomenon.
“...Yes, it’ll be,” Fox grit his teeth, “Fun.” The word felt foreign on his tongue and judging by the look both of his brothers gave him, they thought the same.
Thire nodded slowly, “Yeah-” He tilted his head slightly, “You don’t like the snow, Commander?” Stone turned to look at Fox, far more invested in this conversation now. No way. Ain’t no way he didn’t like snow.
“Of course I like snow.” Fox stood a bit taller, his mechanism when he was feeling out of place. Oh, he was never a good liar, “It’s just, I’ve never…” He slowed his speech significantly, taking a moment to scan his brothers’ eager eyes, “Never actually been in snow before.” Both of their faces went wide.
Thire and Stone turned to look at each other before their faces lit up. “We get to show you snow for the first time?” Stone’s eyes were stars.
“Of course we do,” Thire rolled his eyes, “They’ve got Fox’s ass chained to Coruscant one way or ‘nother.” He felt his own wave of excitement fill him. He knew exactly how his brother would react. He’d pretend to hate it. As always, but he’ll love it. Thire had no doubt in his mind about that. He looked back over to his brother and frowned, “It’ll be fun, Sir.” Thire’s voice went soft, as if he knew what a thin line he was about to walk out on, “Ever since Scipio and Thorn-” Fox shot him a look. One that told him to shut the hell up. “-Stars know you need a little good in your life.”
_____________________
“This armor’s hot as hell,” Fox let out a tsk as he grabbed his altered helmet. He looked over to his regular bucket, feeling a tinge of betrayal as he held a different one in his hand.
“For the past few rotations the planet’s surface has been plagued by blizzards,” Rhys briefed, “We caught a bit of luck, snow has stopped but we seem to be in-between storm systems. We’ll have to work fast.” He put on his helmet and stood near the ramp. Fox forced the bucket on and took lead in the line up.
“Are you excited, Sir?” Thire turned to the marshal. Fox didn’t need to see Thire’s face to know he was grinning ear-to-ear.
“That’ll do, Thire.” Fox shook his head. He wasn’t a shiny, it wasn’t something pertaining to the mission. It was just snow. The ramp let out a loud hiss and the alarm started to buzz. They were all blinded by the white light they were entering into compared to the darkness they were exiting from.
“Here we go.” Stone whispered under his breath, smiling wide as his eyes adjusted. Fox rolled his eyes. He’d have to banish them to the ship if they kept this up. Part of him felt as if they were over-reacting, c’mon, like anything would actually be that-
Fox’s eyes went wide. “Kriffin’ hell.” Fox took the first step down the ramp, scanning the falling flurries as if they’d just as soon attack him. Even through his armor he felt the cold absorb him with a punch. “Squad one you’re on marker A and C, squad two: B and D. Let’s move fast boys, we don’t want to get caught in that incoming cell.” Fox barked out. “Stay together, check-in every fifteen minutes.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” The men yelled in response. In teams of two Fox watched his boys head off. Thire and Jek; Rhys and Stone. Fox waited until they were ahead of him, until he could see all of them trudging towards their markers. Let them make it back alive. Stars, don’t let anything happen to my boys. Fox waited until they were out of view, then he started head-on towards the final fifth marker.
The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. Coruscant was never in such a state. It was always an endless eruption of noise that never simmered. The second thing he noticed was that with every step, he sank slightly into the snow below him. It freaked him out. Fox paused, lifting one foot and stepping very gently, not putting any weight on it. He felt confident, went to take a step and let out a yelp as he felt forward, tumbling down an invisible hill. “Stars-!” He called as he tumbled down and by the time he’d slid down to the bottom, his arms were crossed. Unimpressed.
He laid there for a moment, he watched disrupted snowflakes working their way back down to the ground, the way they glistened. He reached out his gloved hand and watched a flurry land on his hand. That’s when he noticed the most peculiar thing. It was a crystalline structure. He moved his hand closer to his visor. It was an elaborately made crystal in the shape of a star in ancient texts. His mouth might’ve fallen open ever slightly in awe. What in the galaxy? He sat up, feeling the cold encase him but not carrying at all. He took off his helmet, feeling the sting of icy air nip at his warm cheeks. He let out a breath and watched in amusement as it watched his breath before him. He might’ve smiled. Not a mirth grin, but a toothy grin that belonged to someone he used to be.
He held out his hand, letting another snowflake land on it. He studied it from afar, mesmerized on how a thing so tiny could be so significant. He brought his hand closer and watched in distress as the sheer heat from his face melted it away. He must only admire it from afar. It would remain in this world as long as he remained as far as possible from them. He held out his hand again to catch another when something cut through the silence.
He went still, focusing only on the environment. It was already silent, hell, he could hear the damned snowflakes twinkle with how quiet it was. There was a woosh, and Fox heard it again. This time, Fox jumped to his feet, hands lingering over his blasters. He dared not to call out, “Fox-” The marshal whipped his head around, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear them- but all he could hear was his breathing. “C’mon, Vod,” Fox saw them out of the corner of his eye, his full body turned.
“...Vod?” He recognized that voice, and it wasn’t any trooper that was with him. He took a cautious step and saw the brother run cosmically fast a few trees away. Fox found himself breaking out into a run. He’d know that voice anywhere, “Thorn?!” He called, running after his brother. Thorn was always a trickster. Loved to make life a little harder on Fox, kept him grounded, reminded him that he was someone that had been loved.
He ran. Chasing the silhouette of his best brother. The very best. “Can’t catch the lot of me, pick up the pace, Marshal!” Thorn laughed and Fox did too. He’d catch Thorn eventually. He always did. Fox never lost a game of tag, he’d cover the entire woods if he’d have to; Just to see the look on his older brother’s face when he came up from nowhere. There was a buzzing. A low buzzing that he registered as his comlink. But he looked up and saw his brother, “Thorn,” Fox laughed, “Hell, where you been?” He shook his head, “We’ve got to get to the marker and meet the rest of the boys.”
“Play ‘nother round with me, Commander, just one.” Fox smiled. A wide toothy grin that showed off his chipped tooth. He felt the cold tinge his cooling cheeks. Of course. Anything for my best brother.
_____________________
“I don’t know,” Rhys sighed feeling a dreadful knot in his stomach, “We shouldn’t have let him go alone, we should’ve just had a team go out of the way together to that last marker.” Guilt. They never should have let him go.
“You know Fox wouldn’t have had that,” Thire shook his head. Fox was the most stubborn man he knew. Second only to Thorn. “We have to get back to the ship and track his armor manually.”
“But he never misses a check-in, he’s so adamant about them.” Jek shook his head. His mind started to race ahead, pulling every option they could utilize to find their missing brother.
“Hey now,” Stone flipped the switch on the fifth marker, “We don’t know why the Commander didn’t make it to this marker, or why he missed the check-in, but what we do know is that if there was anyone who could survive out here, it’d be Fox’s stubborn ass.” Stone walked towards his brothers, pulling them into a hug. It was getting darker. They’d have to find him soon, that storm system was rolling in. “Let’s start our way back to the ship.”
The group started heading the way in which they came. They weren’t far, which meant Fox had to be close. Thire scanned ahead, trying to see if they could find tracks, but the snow had picked up, and they were losing daylight. He stared at the snow that was starting to blind him, but then he saw it. Vague footprints, “Lads, here!” He called, running forward before losing his balance, “Shit-!” He yelled as he fell backwards and slid down the snowy hillside.
“Commander!” Jek and Rhys yelled as they ran to the edge of the hill. Stone ran up beside them and felt his heart drop into his stomach. Thire had let out an embarrassed laugh but when he turned his head his breath was taken from him. Fox’s helmet. “That’s why he missed our coms.” Jek whispered. The three started down the hill towards their fourth brother.
Stone helped Thire up, brushing off some snow. “Well, this is a clue.” He tried to sound optimistic but Stone was honestly feeling far too dreadful for that. Commander Fox was a survivor, tooth to nail he was unstoppable. None of the men could imagine any force strong enough to knock the life out of the man. He was far too stubborn. “We know that he was here.”
“That we do,” Thire sighed, picking up the helmet and brushing the snow off. He wanted to hold it close. As if it was Fox himself. It had frost building on it, meaning they’d soon have frost on theirs. They wouldn’t last much longer out here. The snow was getting heavier with each passing minute. The storm had finally blown in.
“We need to find shelter, we can wait for the blizzard to subside and continue our search,” Jek suggested, scanning the horizons, “There,” He pointed to a cave, they could hide in there. Thire, Stone and Rhys all made a face, one incredibly uncertain and terribly sad. They didn’t have a choice but to break rule number one.
That’s when they heard him. Well, maybe not the commander that they knew, but some version of him unbeknownst to them. A loud, cheerful laugh echoed. “Commander?!” Thire called out as they all perched up.
“Commander!” Stone screamed, running out towards the laugh, “Sir, where are you?!” He scanned frantically, trying to spot Fox, but he’d spotted them first.
“There you are,” He laughed, coming to a halt, having to be caught by Jek as he fell forward a little bit, “Are you guys going to join us?” He scanned his brothers, this would be a very intense game of tag.
“Join… us?” Thire raised an eyebrow.
“Thorn and I,” Fox shook his head, almost offended, “C’mon.”
Oh.
Silence fell among the four of them as they all gave each other a look. Stone reached out, “Stars, Fox, you’re freezing.” He hissed.
“What?” Fox shook his head, unable to focus on Stone, “I’m not cold, just a little chilly, but we’ve been running, keepin’ warm,” He let out another chuckle, “Ain’t that right, Thorn?”
Jek put a hand on Fox’s shoulder, “Sir,” He felt dread fill him. He knew this loss had hit him harder than most, “Sir, Thorn died… on Scipio, three weeks ago.”
They all watched in preemptive horror as Fox’s face flickered between confusion, denial and realization. “But…” Fox mumbled, falling into the man they recognized him, “But I heard him, I-I saw him.” He turned out to look back to the trees, almost invisible with the endless flurries around them, “He was here,” Fox couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish, “He was just here.”
“C’mon, Sir, let’s get you to shelter and you can tell us,” Thire needed to get them out of this storm. “Spotted a cave not too far,” That’s where they headed.
The cave was dark and somehow colder but it was a relief to no longer be out in the storm. Jek and Rhys had started to look for supplies to build a fire. Thire and Stone had gotten Fox settled down and pulled out their emergency warming blankets, wrapping Fox and them tightly. Snuggling close. His skin was ice cold and snowflakes had formed on his eyelashes. Jek had been eyeing the commander’s ears, any longer and they’d be frostbitten beyond recovery.
Jek and Rhys had started a fire, a giant relief among the group. Even though it was small and was probably going to burn out. They pulled out their own blankets and snuggled close to the rest, “Stars, I’ve never been this cold in my life,” Jek shook his head, violently shivering.
“Not even Kamino’s oceans are this cold.” Rhys tried to guess how cold it had to be. They turned their attention to Fox, who’d been uncomfortably silent. Fox was usually quiet, that wasn’t the unsettling part, nor was the fact that he seemed positively melancholic, no, it was the look in his eyes, with nothing behind them. Glossy and glazed over.
Fox pulled his brothers closer. His cheeks were numb but he knew they were burning from embarrassment. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to speak. He’d let his heart get the best of him. Now they were stuck in this damned cave and not safe and warm on their ship. He knew his mind was just being cruel, and he knew they’d all understand. But Fox couldn’t think of anything to say, the only thing on his mind was… his nose twitched, oh, he missed his brother.
He looked around at all his brothers, keeping warm by holding each other close. They’d practically formed a pile around him. He’d worried them. For that, Fox felt shame. He looked at all of them. Jek, Rhys, Stone, Thire. Fox felt warm, though it was still icy deep within his heart, for just this moment, he felt warm. Safe with his brothers in some random cave. A small smile found its way to his face. “Thorn would’ve loved this, all of his brothers in one inconvenient place,” Fox saw the way his voice grabbed their attention, all of them turning their worried heads towards him, Fox pulled them closer, they weren’t going anywhere but he didn’t want to let them go. “I think…” He felt a little silly but he couldn’t manage to say anything else, “I think he saw us having all this fun and felt left out.” Oh, how Thorn hated feeling left out.
They all casted a look downwards. Unable to find the proper words. An observation that made Fox feel less embarrassed. They didn’t know what to do either. “You guys came looking for me.” He said quite abruptly. It was a change of topics, but as the shadow in the doorway disappeared, Fox knew the brothers keeping him warm were where he needed to be.
“Of course we came looking for you,” Jek shook his head. All the brothers scooted a little closer. Afraid their commander might slip away if they didn't.
“Rule number one.” Thire smiled and Fox did too. Of course. How could he forget rule number one? Never leave a brother behind.
The cold bites at his face as he marches uphill to the ridge overlooking the flat plains that cover most of the planet.
This particular ridge drops off into a steep cliff creating the best natural windbreaker for miles, blocking the assault of icy wind kicking up the loose top layer of snow. This is how he knows his target is below. The traitor.
It’s early. It had to be if he wanted to get into position without being spotted. Trusting the harsh wind that helps push him up the hill and chill his back to also cover his tracks. It’s still dark by the time he makes it to the top of the ridge, thighs and calves burning despite the freezing temperatures from trudging through a foot and a half of snow.
He’s tired.
But he has a mission, so with aching and cold limbs the man drops to his knees in the snow and starts to prepare the area. Clearing snow to have a steady area to work in instead of the loose snow, preparing his weapons and taking the time to do a quick stretch before he settles in for the long wait.
And it will be a long wait.
As a sniper, you do a lot more sitting and watching than most civilians think. As a Clone with enhanced eyesight and training, Crosshair sees more action thanks to his accuracy and adaptability, but that does not mean he doesn’t know patience. The Kaminoans made sure of that. Isolation training, night vision training, form training having to stay in the same position for hours and one notable instance of 3 days.
The Regs have their saying for between campaigns and missions, “hurry up and wait”. Crosshair does not have that luxury. If he ever tried to distract himself and, god forbid, looked away from his scope? Well the Kaminoans simply punished him with solitary confinement. As a cadet, Crosshair worried that all his time in his individual and isolated training would push his brothers away. It only made them hold onto him tighter.
Which is why the betrayal came as such a shock to the Clone. He and his brothers only ever had each other. The Regs certainly weren’t on their side and the Kaminoans definitely were not on their side. But Clone Force 99? They were supposed to be a team. Brothers. And while yes, brothers tend to be annoying, and invade your personal space, and take your things without asking.
And the traitor below, in the ship would soon learn the consequences to betraying that brotherhood.
When the sky in the West starts to lighten with the impending rise of the sun along the planet’s horizon, Crosshair finally settles in for the wait. His target is an early riser, not the earliest of the crew, but certainly early enough that getting up before dawn was necessary. He double and triple his ammo is prepared to perfection before finally lying on his stomach on the cold damp ground.
And then the waiting begins.
When he first started his training he thought he’d go mad. The silence. The boredom. But he’s learned to live in it. Thrive really. It almost becomes a meditative experience. Long steady breaths relaxes both his muscles and his mind. Time starts to get fuzzy, but he never loses focus on the objective, ever vigilant, waiting for his target to emerge from the ship below.
The sun has half risen by the time the first person emerges from The Marauder, later than usual, most likely due to the cold. They’re not his target, today, but certainly his first obstacle. While Crosshair may have the long haired clone beat in terms of eyesight, he has no doubt the oldest of the group would be able to locate him blind. Not only is his hearing phenomenal, his sense of smell cannot be matched even by a Noghri. The wind is doing no favors for Crosshair, blowing across his back and over the cliff side. All the sniper can hope is that the ridge not only blocks the wind, but his scent as well.
Crosshair slows his breathing even more, channeling the moment right before he takes a shot, the only thing in his sights being crosshair locked on his target. It has the added benefit of slowing his heart rate as well.
It seems to have worked as the expert tracker doesn’t so much as twitch in his direction, continuing across the plains till he’s a good distance from the ship. Sticking to habit, taking an hour away from everything to calm the enhanced senses. It will probably be just the amount of time left till his target emerges. It will pose a bit of an issue, more likely to cause an interference, but nothing out of his calibre.
True to his prediction, a bespeckled clone stumbles from the ship. The more lanky nature of the man’s body trembles in the snow, only a hastily grabbed jacket thrown over sleep clothes. His nose is already turning pink as hands rub against eyelids, lifting the glasses to the clone’s forehead. A tamed shout of the target’s name brings attention to the sergeant making his way back to camp.
Crosshair prediction wasn’t totally accurate. The obstacle turned out to be an asset, as his target lethargically turned, back facing the makeshift sniper’s nest, as he treaded through the snow towards the callout. The distance between brothers is too far, even if he’s noticed nothing could be done.
He breathes in.
Ammo locked and loaded.
He breathes out.
The moment the last of his breath leaves his lungs, when his hands are at his most steady, he releases. The projectile shoots through the air with confident accuracy, despite knowing it will hit its target, Crosshair continues to hold the exhales until the mark is hit.
He witnesses the moment Hunter notices his presence, confusion decorating his features. Then, answers.
Tech goes down with a shout.
Silence settles over the plains, the whistling of wind replaced with a shaky inhale.
“Really Crosshair?” Hunter calls up to him.
Crosshair can’t help but smirk. He takes his time to stand, grabbing another snowball from his pile, “whaaat he had it coming!”
“Crosshair! I am going to kill you!” Tech is smart, cunning really, no doubt he would be able to enact a great revenge plot. Crosshair would be more worried if he wasn’t so busy snickering at how snow stayed clumped to the back of Tech’s head from the hit of a snow ball, as well as packed between the man’s glasses and face from failing to catch his fall in said snow.
“Good morning to you too, dear brother!” He makes sure his sincerity is obvious by launching another snowball at Tech’s head. A second later, while the man is busy wiping his glasses, his head pitches to the side, falling into the snow yet again with the direct hit.
The outrage squawk his brother lets out finally sends Crosshair over the edge, full body cackles over takes him. Tech sends him a final glare before wiping his face and stomping back into the ship “AURGHH” ooh Tech must have been particularly grumpy this morning, it normally takes a bit more than snow to get the normally well spoken clone so inarticulate.
Hunter just tips his head to the sky, probably debating taking another hour away from all the little brother nonsense. “You coming down now Cross?” The oldest brother already sounding done with everything.
“Please, like Tech isn’t inside getting his gear for retaliation. But you already knew that.” Crosshair eyes focus on Hunter. The tracker’s stance has shifted, more settled for quick movements.
A side has been chosen and now the stand off commences. Who would be able to move faster, Crosshair grabbing another snow ball and throwing with enough accuracy to hit a moving target, or Hunter sprinting the 100 ft distance to cover behind the ship?
Before either choice can be made, Tech storms out, gear adorned, and heads straight to the cliff side.
“What? You’re gonna free climb 50ft of icy rock just because you got a little wet?” The reassurance of the highground makes the sniper overly confident. He knows he’s acting a little cocky, Tech doesn’t do anything without a plan afterall. But he doubts anything would be fast enough to where Crosshair doesn’t have time to react.
He regrets the taunt as soon as he says it when Tech lifts his right arm, where a grappling hook hits just inches from Crosshair standing at the edge of the ridge. “Fuck!” The silver haired clone is forced to scrabble back from the edge as Tech soars upwards with his modified gadgets.
Crosshair tries to grab more ammo when he’s tackled into his pyramid of premade snowballs. The slick snow and frozen ground offers no purchase to push Tech’s weight off of him. That when he feels snow being shoved beneath his armor’s undersuit, the shock of wet and cold making him shriek.
He’s finally able to get an elbow back into a soft spot in the side of Tech’s armor, and then the wrestling really begins. Expletives and petty insults echo in the air, cut off when snow is shoved in faces and in underclothes.
Below the ridge, Hunter has relaxed knowing he won’t have to intervene to knock Crosshair’s ego down a peg. He stays and watches the empty ridge, listening to the truly creative insults those two particular brothers are able to come up with.
The sound must have woken others as a curious Omega, annoyed Echo and confused Wrecker file out of the Marauder.
“What’s going on Hunter?” Omega asking the question on everyone’s mind.
“Just Crosshair and Tech being overdramatic as usual.” a well practiced eye roll cementing nothing serious is happening.
“Well tell ‘em to shut up.” Echo’s complaint is overtaken by a yawn.
Hunter doesn’t know if the two heard Echo’s comment or it was just coincidence he was their first target when they inevitably joined forces against the rest of the group. Either way, Echo goes down with a grunt and doesn’t get up.
Hunter knows he’s the only one that hears the grumbled “these damn kids” from the Reg.
Wrecker pays no mind to Echo, already excitedly shouting for Omega to prepare snowballs for retaliation. Omega, bless the kid, wears a feral grin on her face, her thirst for conquest unquenchable.
“Oh no Tech, I’m shaking” Hunter doesn’t have to look up to know his brother is wearing a snarky expression, the stupid smirk that makes everyone want to punch him in the face.
“Truly a frightening prospect Crosshair” and there’s asshole number two.
Looks like Hunter will have to knock two little brother’s egos down a peg instead of one.
It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Just you and Tech going skating along the frozen creek outside the lodge you and the rest of the Bad Batch had been staying in for the latest mission. But then everything had gone horribly wrong.
One moment Tech was skating ahead of you, insisting he check the ice was strong enough. The next moment, there was a loud crack and he was gone, plunging into the dark, icy waters.
“Tech!” you scream, skating forward as fast as you could.
You heard the creaking and cracking of the ice as you got closer to the jagged hole where Tech had once stood. Your training kicks in. Looking around, you see a tree branch leaning out over the creek. Pulling off your scarf, you quickly tie one end to the branch. Carefully, you lay down on your stomach, and inch forward, holding the other end of the scarf.
Your heart races as you get closer, each breath of brisk air a sharp reminder of the danger of the cold.
“Tech!” you call out again.
A second later, Tech’s arm appears from the still water, groping for a hand hold. You thrust your hand out, grasping his tightly. The shock of the icy water seeping through your mittens sends goosebumps up your arm, but you don’t let go.
With as much leverage as you can get while laying on the ice, you began to pull backwards, hoisting Tech closer. His head appears a moment later, and you’re thankful when you hear him take a shuddering breath. He’s still breathing, he’s still conscious.
“I’ve got you! Hang on!” you call out, still pulling with all your might.
One hand is locked onto Tech’s, while your other one pulls at the scarf tied to the branch. Inch by painful inch, you drag Tech from the frigid water, the ice creaking and groaning beneath the abuse of your combined weight.
“G-g-get… H-help…” Tech sputters between chattering teeth.
You knew there was no time. In these temperatures, with his wet clothes, you didn’t have a second to spare to go all the way back to the lodge to get help.
Blast it! Why did we leave our comms behind! You think to yourself as you pull Tech along the ice.
“No, keep moving! We have to get to shore and get you dry!” you tell him, trying not to sound too panicked.
Tech was shivering uncontrollably, the water on his clothes already starting to freeze with a thin layer of frost. You heave with all your might, getting as far back from the dangerous ice as you can. Slowly, you get closer to the shore and the safer, sturdier ice.
“Tech, we need to keep your core warm,” you explain, pulling your mittens off. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes."
Before he can comprehend what you are doing, your nimble fingers find the frozen clasps of his coat and undo them. Tech tries to protest, but he’s shivering too much to even speak. With a determined focus, you begin to strip him of the dangerously wet clothing. You get everything off of his torso, the last wet layer sticking to his damp skin as you yank it free.
You have no time to marvel at his well defined physique as you hastily pull your heavy winter coat off and wrap it around him. He lets out an audible sigh as the warm garment envelopes him. Next, you start frantically pulling off your skates so that you can get your snow pants off.
"What-t-t about y-y-you?” Tech mumbles.
“I’ll be fine. We need to worry about you."
You’re well layered, since you don’t like the cold. Even under your jacket you still have a heavy sweater, light sweater, long sleeve shirt and base layer. A similar set of layers is on your bottom half as well. You can easily afford to lose the heavy winter coat and the thick snow pants.
Remembering your scarf, you untie it from the tree branch and wrap it carefully around his neck, trying to give him as much warmth as possible. You pull your wooly hat off, intent on replacing his wet hat. As you pull his off, you see a bloody cut across his forehead. You realise he must have hit his head on the ice as he went in.
"You’re bleeding!” you gasp.
Tech groans in acknowledgement, too cold to speak.
You know hypothermia is the bigger concern right now. Quickly, you grab a handkerchief from your pocket and place it over the cut, then pull your warm hat onto his head, keeping the handkerchief in place.
“Tech, we need to get your skates off.”
He just nods, still shivering. You focus on trying to get the frozen laces undone. Your fingers are slowly going numb and it becomes harder with each agonizing minute that goes by. Finally, you get his skates off.
“Pants next,” you order him. “We need to get everything wet off.”
Tech’s eyes go wide with embarrassment.
“Every th-th-thing?” he tried to ask.
“Yes,” you reply bluntly, your numb fingers already starting to work on the buckle on the snow pants.
Tech lays back against the ice, letting you work. His face is bright red, and not just from the frostbite setting in. He pulls the coat around him tighter.
Your own face turns pink as you pull off the soaking wet snow pants and start on his regular trousers. Unlike you, Tech didn’t wear multiple layers of clothing, being more adaptable to colder weather.
“Can you stand?” you ask him. “We should get the coat done up properly. It’s pretty long, so it will, you know…” you swallow your embarrassment, knowing this was no time to be worried about modesty, “…it will cover you while we take your underwear off.”
You help Tech to his feet and get the coat done up. A part of you is relieved the coat is long enough to give Tech his decency, but another part of you is oddly curious.
Now is not the time to think about that… you mentally scold yourself, refocusing on helping Tech out of the wet clothing.
He tries to assist you with getting his underwear off, the movement helping to get the blood flow going to his worryingly cold limbs. With a quick, fluid movement, you pull your own snow pants off and hand them to Tech. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder as he pulls them on.
“Socks,” you say bluntly as you sit down and start to pull off your extra pair. Even if they are covered in a bit of snow, they are still better than his wet ones. He follows your lead, sitting back down and pulling off his wet socks. Tech gratefully accepts your pair and pulls them on his frozen feet. Finally, you hand him your mittens, and watch as he pulls them on.
“Do you think you can make it back to the lodge if we try to skate back?"
Tech looks up the creek bed to the lodge, then down at his discarded frozen skates.
"It would be the fastest way back,” Tech replied, still shivering, but able to at least speak a little clearer.
You look up towards the lodge, suddenly thankful that you’re not that good at skating so you hadn’t made it very far.
“Your skates are wet,” you comment, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.
“It’s that, or walking in socks all the way back,” he points out. “I think skating is the more logical option."
With a reluctant sigh, you nod. It only takes a few minutes for you and Tech to get your skates back on. You can’t help notice that Tech has stopped shivering, his lips blue and his movements slow. He’s trying to be stoic, but it only makes you more worried. You could see how tired he was getting.
"Let’s go,” Tech said wearily, his eyes half lidded.
Tech slid one foot forward and stumbled. Immediately, you reach out and catch him. Sliding an arm around his waist, so you can help support him. Together, you begin to skate back up the creek.
Your heart was still racing, the panic you’d kept at bay so far was beginning to creep in again as Tech leaned more heavily on you, his movements getting more sluggish.
“Come on, Tech. Stay with me. We’re almost there,” you say, encouraging him.
In reality, it must have only taken you 15 minutes to skate back to the large, log cabin style lodge. But to you, every minute felt like an eternity. It was clear Tech was struggling. You were half carrying him, half dragging him, by the time you made it back.
“Help!” you call out from the back door as you haul Tech inside, “Hunter! Anyone!”
Tech slumped against the wall, breathing hard, his whole body shivering again.
Shivering is a good sign… you remind yourself, trying to remember the stages of hypothermia.
“Help!” you shout again.
A moment later, the sound of servos and shuffling feet meet your ears. The lodge’s caretaker droid appears around the corner taking in the sight of you and Tech in the doorway.
“Oh dear. You both look rather cold,” the droid states. It’s a rather frustrating observation.
You groan in annoyance. “Yes! We are! Tech fell through the ice. Now go get our friends to help us,” you order the droid.
“I’m afraid they are not here at the moment. They left a short while ago to go and survey the town and acquire dinner,” the droid explains. “But the fire is still going in the main hearth. I would advise you to make use of it while I go and prepare you a hot beverage."
With that, the droid turned and shuffled off.
You let out another exasperated noise before turning to Tech, "C'mon.”
You haul him to his feet and help him through to the main common room, where, there was indeed, a good fire roaring in the massive hearth. You navigate a stumbling Tech over to a chair next to the fireplace and sit him down.
Looking around the room, you spot several blankets and quickly gather up as many as you can, then wrap them around Tech’s torso and legs.
“I think that is quite enough blankets,” Tech protested as you add a fifth one over his lap.
You pause and look down at him. He’s taken off your mittens and has his hands held out to the fire, letting them warm back up. His lips were finally getting their normal colour back, the blue of the cold fading away.
It was then you remember the cut, the sight of the bloody handkerchief peeking out under the hat jogging your memory.
“I’ll go get the med kit for your forehead."
Tech simply made an agreeable noise as you hurry to the fresher to find the med kit.
When you return a few minutes later, the droid waits with a tray and two mugs of hot chocolate. Thanking him, you hand one to Tech.
"Drink up,” you instruct him.
Tech takes the mug with both hands. Carefully, you remove the hat and bloodied handkerchief, assessing the cut on his forehead. You let out a small sigh of relief when you realise it’s not that bad.
You carefully begin to clean the wound as Tech takes a sip of hot chocolate. He looks back up at you, an odd emotion in his eyes.
“Thank you for your assistance. I do not think I could have extricated myself from the ice fast enough before more severe damage set in with the hypothermia,” he said in his usual, calm tone.
You knew that was just the way he was, but you also knew the thanks was sincere and heartfelt. He dipped his head down to take another drink of his hot chocolate.
Tenderly, you slide a finger under his chin and tilt his head back up so you can continue to clean the cut. He smiles up at you. It’s a smile that sets your heart racing for completely different reasons this time.
“That’s the last time we ever go ice skating,” you tell him with a wink.
Where did Crosshair go? Why did he leave? What prompted him to return? I can’t say -the real story is up to you, dear viewer!- but I like to think that he went on some form of epic “A Christmas Carol” journey all across the galaxy and has now just returned home in time for the holidays. Omega has been eagerly awaiting her brother’s arrival.
Getting the lookout duty was considered a treat. Something Fox assigned to the shinies who had been through something particularly cruel at the hands of the senators or a different kind of lowlife in Coruscant’s underworld. But once in a while, the schedules overlapped too much and he had to assign his soldiers to other squads.
Tonight, Fox had been supposed to accompany a senator to some dealings, but they had been cancelled last minute, leaving him free to do his other work. The stack of datapads on his desk, in his tiny office, was a testament to how much he needed that extra time. But a trooper who was supposed to be on the lookout here had suffered an injury. Nothing too bad. Another might have sent him back on duty. A concussion. But their medic had put it down as moderate to severe and hence given the trooper some well-deserved time to recover.
Fox had covered the lookout duty. The thought of pulling in another brother after a full and gruelling shift did not sit well with him.
As if the dangers of the pirates and mob families and whatever criminal one dreamed off were not enough, the clones in the Guard had to deal with the senators. A different kind of danger. One covered in glittering gold and pleasant smiles. But the clones were familiar with this kind of cruelty. Even the concussion suffered by the trooper he was covering for had been a result of a spiteful senator tripping up the shiny. And for what? The shiny had stammered out that he could not fetch caf when he was on protective duty. He was too new to know the clones were too often relegated to such tasks and then blamed when they were not at their posts too. It was a situation where they could not win.
A clone as high-ranked as Fox had to deal with the senators and their requests personally and was well aware of how cutting their words and how twisted their truths. He was the first one they called when a trooper was accused of something. Fox had to deal with everything. The troopers always told him the truth, but the real truth had to be what the senators were claiming.
He had dealt with three such incidents in the past two cycles and well, maybe he, too, deserved the lookout duty once in a while.
Fox let everything flow away and centred his thoughts on the present. Thorn had been getting into such things, going on endless tangents about mindfulness and calm meditation. He must have found some Jedi texts or whatever. Fox usually listened and immediately let it out, but some of it had stuck in his mind and he did not have much to do now. Might as well use this opportunity to relax a little.
He would not have been idle on duty in any other place, but this lookout spot was a calm one. With very little traffic. Plus, he had a perfect view of the area from up here on the tower. Nothing much would escape him even if he was not paying perfect attention. They had the crime statistics to prove it. That was why he often sent troopers here so they could rest. As long as nobody fell asleep, or fell asleep and was not caught, all was well. All clones found small ways to make this miserable existence somewhat tolerable.
Once his mind had emptied of all the worries of the day, Fox found his focus on the sky. The city planet was perpetually lit. No escape from the light pollution, but enough darkness fell on it once the suns set. Fox never had the time to appreciate the act of setting before, never having been on such light duty as this.
The sky had already turned vivid orange and red. The hues unlike anything he had seen. Not even the richest senators could find fabrics the color that matched these. It was stunning. Made him feel so insignificant too. Who was Fox really, in this grand galaxy? Or even in this war? If he were to die the next cycle, the Kaminoans would quickly ship off another soldier bred from a commanding position. He would be replaced in the blink of an eye, remembered for a while by his closest brothers and then nothing. Not even his name would be remembered, for Fox was not really his name. His designation might appear somewhere, but no more.
But now, as he looked at it, all the depressing thoughts paled, at least for a few more minutes, when the sight in front of him was so beautiful. Part of him wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the peaceful moment, the other part wanted to take it all in and never forget.
The second part one. Fox took it all in, forgetting about perimeter checks. For a few short moments, he simply existed. The sunlight could not penetrate the armor but he could almost feel it warm his skin. The noise of the city fell into the background, his own deep breaths the only thing he focused on. Fox closed his eyes, then. He was still here, despite the odds the clones faced. As long as he was alive, there was a chance he would watch this again. As more than a soldier in a grand army. As a free man.
He didn’t know when that would be, and the cynic in him told him the unfavorable odds, but with the beautiful sight in front of him, hope persevered. Hope that this war was not all life would ever bring him.
“Sleeping only works if you actually close your eyes,” Hunter says, not bothering to turn around from the nav computer he’s spent the last thirty minutes pretending to study. What he’s actually doing is making sure Tech doesn’t get out of the bunk he’s been sequestered to. They both know that the moment Hunter lets his guard down, Tech is out of this bunk and on to better things.
“I am not tired,” Tech tells him for the seventeenth time. No, eighteenth. This is the eighteenth time he’s pleaded his case.
Hunter turns in the chair just enough to give him a pointed side-eye. “You have a concussion. It doesn’t matter if you’re tired or not. Sleep. Now.”
Tech huffs. “I am not a droid you can power down on command.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Crosshair drawls, slinking into the hold from the cockpit.
“Not helping,” Hunter mutters, turning back to the nav computer.
Crosshair drops something on the bunk beside Tech as he walks by to the gunner’s mount. It was a discreet action, quiet and hidden. Tech doesn’t know why, but he moves carefully to hide the object beneath the thin, GAR issued blanket before Hunter notices. Crosshair climbs up into the gunner’s mount, turns to flash a mischievous smile at Tech, then vanishes when he sits down in the gunner’s seat, drawing up his lanky legs to make himself completely invisible.
Tech grips the mysterious object in both hands, trying to decipher what it is without his eyes. Sharp edges, cool metal…is that a port? It is a piece of machinery. But why? Why would Crosshair drop a piece of machinery on the bunk and just walk away? As a prank? Just Crosshair being – well – Crosshair?
Tech watches the back of Hunter’s head for a few seconds, then peeks under the blanket at the object. He recognizes it immediately. It is a piece of the mainframe that Crosshair had been tasked with repairing after Tech’s unfortunate injury. All clones are capable of basic, small ship repairs; although, basic repairs that might take an average clone several hours are much faster in Tech’s far more capable hands.
Such a menial task Tech can almost do in his sleep. Mindlessly.
It won’t affect his concussion at all, but it will keep his hands busy for a little while, especially if he forces himself to slow down.
Crosshair has given him a gift!
Tech clutches his prize, and begins figuring out how in the wide, wide galaxy he’s going to get his small tool kit without alerting Hunter. The answer is there is no way. The fact that Hunter hasn’t caught on to something already is a mystery.
He glares despairingly at the gunner’s mount. Crosshair should have thought of this. Probably did think of this. Did he give Tech something to fix with no method to do so just to torment him?
Not an unlikely hypothesis.
While Tech is trying to come up with a suitable insult with his injury-addled brain, the culprit himself suddenly reappears, leaping with a soft thud from the gunner’s mount and padding by without so much as a glance in Tech’s direction.
Tech sighs and falls back on the bunk.
“Feeling okay?” Hunter asks.
“If I told you that I am fine, would you believe me?” Tech grumbles.
Hunter chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “I’m going to remember your attitude the next time one of us is hurt and you’re playing medic.”
“Playing medic?” Tech sputters, sitting up.
“Now who’s antagonizing the patient,” Crosshair snarks as he passes back through. “Way to set an example, Sarge.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter sighs, but Tech can hear the grin in his oldest batchmate’s voice.
Before he can work up a retort, a soft thunk on the mattress next to him draws his attention. He glances down at his small tool kit, freshly delivered by their squad’s sniper.
“I’ll tubie-sit if you want a break, Hunter,” Crosshair yawns, sprawling out in one of the crash seats.
“It is very annoying to be spoken of as though I am not present,” Tech growls.
Crosshair flicks the toothpick between his teeth from one side of his mouth to the other. “Did you hear something, Hunter?”
Hunter stands and stretches his arms over his head. “Nope,” he says with a fiendish smile.
Tech rolls his eyes as Hunter leaves to join Wrecker in the cockpit.
Crosshair closes his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“Why must your kindness always come with stipulations of annoyance?” Tech asks as he eagerly brings out the ship part from its hiding place and begins examining it closely.
“It entertains me.”
“Obviously.”
Quiet descends, only broken by the gentle tapping and clattering of tools being used.
“Thank you, Crosshair.”
Crosshair sounds half asleep when he says, “It was Hunter’s idea.”
I had the pleasure of photographing two of my amazing cosplay friends last week when we got some major snow fall. We had a great time (even if it was a bit cold) and got some epics shots!
I figured it would be a nice extra little present to this amazing group of talented clone fans to share a photo from the shoot.
If you'd like to give us some love over on instagram, here are our accounts.
Fives paced the empty barracks, his mind reeling. Captain Rex had told him to stay there, to wait. He’d told him he had to show him something.
Rex hadn't sounded angry. Or relieved. More like… shaken.
That was never a good sign when it came to the Captain.
Fives dragged a hand over his face, trying to steady the churn in his stomach. The room felt too quiet, too clean, the plastoid bunks lined in regulation-perfect rows like nothing in the galaxy had changed.
But for Fives, everything had.
He hadn’t stood in a GAR barracks in months. Not since Fox had whispered a single word that changed everything:
Run.
Fox had shot him, but he’d stunned him. He’d hid him afterwards and helped Fives slip through the cracks before anyone could double-check the body.
Fives owned him his life, and yet the only thing he’d done with the time he’d been given was hide. All he’d been doing was waiting and trying not to drown in the silence where Echo’s voice should have been.
He stopped pacing and braced his hands against the edge of a bunk, head bowed.
Rex had tracked him down. Finally. After managing to get the information about where he was out of Fox.
But what could Rex possibly need to show him? It couldn’t be a mission; he was dead to the GAR and the Republic.
He pushed off the bunk and resumed pacing, faster this time.
Rex usually told him things straight. Even the hard things. But the voice he’d used over the comm was quiet, weighted, like he was carrying something fragile. Fives had only heard it once before.
When they lost Echo and Rex was trying to get him to leave.
Fives swallowed hard, forcing the memory back. The Citadel, the explosion, the way he’d screamed for his brother until his throat was raw. Rex had been the one holding him upright.
“Just… get back here, vod,” Fives muttered under his breath. The waiting was making him anxious. “Whatever it is, just get here.”
Because he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change again.
Footsteps approached the barracks. Two sets of footsteps.
Fives froze.
Rex wouldn’t bring someone dangerous. Wouldn’t bring a stranger. Wouldn’t bring someone he didn’t trust, given Fives’ situation.
The door hissed open and Fives’ world stopped.
Rex stepped inside first, eyes soft and shining in a way that made Fives’ heart slam against his ribs. And behind him—
A figure in mismatched armor. Pale, thin, modified, but unmistakable.
Echo. Alive.
Fives staggered back a step, like the air had been punched out of him.
“...Echo?” His voice broke, the disbelief clear. “No. This can’t—” He couldn’t believe this was real.
Echo flinched like the sound of his name hurt. Maybe he was too loud? Fives immediately thought.
He looked fragile in a way Fives had never seen with gaunt cheeks, new prosthetics, armor that didn’t belong to the 501st. His eyes were the same, though. Still his brother.
“Fives.” It came out soft, almost a whisper, as if Echo was afraid the world would come crashing down again.
Fives shook his head quickly, his breathing hitching. He pressed a hand to his chest like that might steady the pounding beneath his ribs. “I saw the explosion. I saw—” He cut himself off, unable to say the words.
“I know.” Echo stepped forward, slow and cautious, like approaching a wild animal. Or maybe because he was still unsteady on his feet. “I know you did.”
Fives couldn’t look away from Echo. Up close, it was worse. His brother wasn’t just thin—he was half-machine. One arm ended in metal. Implants lined the side of his skull. Ports, wiring, scars. Far too many scars.
The sight nearly made Fives’ knees buckle.
“What…what did they do to you?” His voice cracked open on the question.
The answer didn’t matter, not right now. Not compared to the fact that Echo was here. And alive. Before he could think, before Echo could even try to speak, Fives surged forward and crushed his brother in an embrace.
Echo stiffened for a heartbeat, a reflex born from pain and captivity—then melted into the hold. His remaining hand clutched at his brother’s back. He hadn’t realized he’d needed this, not until Fives had hugged him.
“Welcome home, vod,” Fives finally said.
Echo hugged Fives slightly tighter before letting go. “It’s good to be home.”
