Part 1 - Comets and meteors
Chapter 1
Pairing: Fives x Padawan!OFC Rhea
Series summary: What happens when a lost, grieving Padawan meets a loud-mouth, rebellious clone trooper? Can a romance in the midst of war bloom between them? But then, what happens if he dies? And, even worse, what happens if he comes back wrong?
Word count: 8.9k Tags/Warnings: inquisitor Fives AU; description of injury; blood; ptsd; smoking; survivor's guilt; unhealthy attitude towards depression and medication; mentioned minor character deaths; meet-cute; Fives being Fives; my own personal interpretation of the timeline™; Force healing and Force killing (#balance)
A/N: so i saw this art back in 2024 and i swear it altered my brain chemistry. In like 2 days I had half of this story already in my head, fighting for attention as I was trying to write I got you. Updates will be slow; currently I can only aim for like one chapter a month, but I've kinda been struggling with everything lately including writing so idk
Next chapter | taglist
vod - brother ; ori'vod - older brother di’kut - idiot Jetti - Jedi ; Jettise - Jedi plural osik - shit/crap shabuir - jerk, but stronger
❀
18 BBY - hyperspace
The door closed with a loud, bone chilling hiss, placing a barrier between her and the others. Rhea sank to the floor the moment Kix, Rex and Echo no longer had eyes on her, exhaustion pulling her down like cold hands reaching for her from the underworld. It didn't take long for the tears to start falling and she quickly clasped a hand over her mouth to quiet her sobs as her body started shaking.
Because what she'd seen in that cave – who she'd seen – was impossible. And it rattled reality itself to the core, shattering it until it matched the pieces of her broken heart.
She'd looked him in the eye. She'd talked to him. But she’d felt nothing but anger and burning hatred. Not one trace of the man she’d once loved.
It made no sense.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Her hands had been on the baster wound. Hell, she still remembered the lingering heat of the melted plastoid and the sickening smell of scorched flesh.
And she’d felt his heart stop, she was sure of it.
Rhea shook her head, and forced the tears to stop, wiping away at her face as if she could scrub the grief clean is she pressed hard enough.
She needed answers. She needed clarity. She needed to be one with the Force.
It had been months since Rhea had last meditated. Months since she’d allowed herself to listen to the Force, to reach for it. To go back to that comforting presence that had held her in a caring embrace ever since infancy. Like a second Mother. Or like an extension of herself.
But it wasn’t safe anymore. And it was too painful.
And she’d lost all faith in it after all. Slowly, like falling asleep. Like trying to keep herself awake when she's too tired to even think. Her eyes kept closing. She dozed off. She jolted awake. Then suddenly, abruptly, she succumbed. And sleep took her away.
She never imagined that the Force could let her down. Never thought it possible.
The Force was the Force. It wasn’t innately good or bad – it was just always there.
Until it wasn’t.
Or, at least, until it didn’t feel like it was anymore. With no comfort left in its presence. Just echoes of fear and death and the overwhelming cry of failure.
And that’s all she heard now, as she desperately tried to reconnect. As she sat cross-legged on the durasteel floor of the Remora, begging the Force to give her some answers. To make her understand what just happened in that damned cave on Jabiim, and how it was possible to stare right into the eyes of a ghost.
But the Force refused to respond.
Or maybe she just couldn’t listen anymore.
Maybe the abyss of helpless desperation was too deep for her to climb out alone. Although, she felt like she’d been climbing for ages.
It started when he died.
No – it reached the breaking point then. It ended and started again in ways she couldn't even imagine.
But when did it start?
On Geonosis? As the sun scorched her skin and blasterbolts whirled through the air?
Or on Ryloth, as she felt the lives of her Master, of her ori’vod, of all her friends suddenly stifled, put out like throwing sand on a fire?
Or maybe... maybe it started in that medbay. Maybe it all started when he walked in and his smile lit a guiding light in the darkness of her grief.
21 BBY - Rolion sector
The Resolute was probably the biggest ship Rhea had stepped foot on. She noticed the jarring difference the moment she disembarked the shuttle – just the hangar alone was probably as big as her late Master’s cruiser.
It made sense. The 501st was a battalion after all, so much larger than the Outer Rim garrison ever was.
But still, it felt wrong.
A space this big should echo. Not buzz with voices, footsteps and mechanical clanking. Everywhere she looked, there was some sort of activity going on, someone moving or talking or dropping tools on the durasteel floor. It was giving her a headache.
With only a vague idea of where she needed to go, Rhea pulled the hood over her head and started walking, the grey duffle hanging like a dead weight on her right shoulder. She kept her eyes down, hoping that the white hoodie made her blend in with all the plastoid around, keeping her safe and anonymous. And there sure was a lot of plastoid, every damn corner she turned.
She was used to the clones, but she wasn’t used to seeing this many of them in one place. It was making her feel small, and her chest feel too tight. Especially when she couldn’t recognise a single one of them – even though all the faces were painfully familiar.
The duffle strap slipped slightly down her shoulder, so she pushed it back in place before stepping on the turbolift. Maybe she should go up to her assigned cabin before swinging by the medbay, drop off her bag. But then she'd have to go back down, then back up, then to the Bridge. Too much effort. Easier to stop in the medbay first.
Everything felt like too much effort lately. Truthfully, all Rhea wanted to do was lay in bed, sleep and pretend that she was back in her tent on Ryloth – and Master Di was in the tent next to hers, and Keeli in the one next to that, and all her friends were either sleeping or on night duty, but she would see them in the mess tent for breakfast once she woke up. A beautiful fantasy. A dream to live inside of so she could keep the pain away.
Except, she wouldn’t. She would never see them ever again. She’d left them there to face the droids by themselves. And somehow she could still open her eyes every morning, while, as far as she was aware, they were all still in that ravine, flesh rotting under the Ryloth sun. Not even at rest. Not even given proper funerals.
But the war kept moving along, with no regard to her loses. And the Council needed her back in the field.
“You won't heal if you hide away in the Temple,” was what Master Windu had said. And sure, she understood that. But it didn't mean she felt ready.
The doors of the lift opened, and Rhea tucked herself in the corner to make room for the two troopers getting on. One in armor, the other in a naval uniform.
“...Felucia’s a death sentence, I'm telling you,” the one in armor groaned.
“I sure am glad I don't have to get off the ship,” the other replied.
The armored trooper shot his brother a dirty look before noticing Rhea in the corner of his eye. He offered a quick nod, gaze lingering on her bag, then returned to his conversation, switching to Mando'a. Rhea’s shoulders tensed at the brief attention, and she held her breath until the lift doors opened and she could step outside.
She inhaled deeply once in the corridor, already smelling the faint sting of antiseptic. After a couple wrong turns, she managed to locate the medbay, and walked through the double doors, still grasping the duffle strap as if it was a rope keeping her from falling into an abyss.
The Outer Rim garrison only had four combat medics – five if she counted herself – and as she walked deeper into the Resolute’s medbay, she couldn’t help but marvel at both the size of it and the number of personnel. She quickly counted at least twenty clones in white medic uniforms, plus a few nat-born nurses milling about, no doubt preparing for the upcoming battle on Felucia. The medcots were mercifully empty – save for a couple troopers who only appeared to be in for routine checks. But the entire place was just as full of life and movement as the hangar.
Too much happening all the time on the entire damn ship, Rhea couldn’t help but think. A dreadful realisation then set in: the Negotiator was probably just as bad.
“E-Excuse me,” she weakly said, stepping in front of one of the clone medics who was walking past her, carrying a box of medjectors. “The CMO?”
“Kix. Back office,” the trooper replied with a jerk of his head, not even slowing his steps.
Rhea straightened, then headed to the indicated room. The door was already opened and she could see a clone sat at a desk, datapad in hand and brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn't wearing armor or a white uniform, instead he had on the familiar black compression top. His head was shaved, with an intricate lightning bolt tattoo covering most of it. She shuddered, a chill travelling down her spine. It reminded her a little too much of Keeli.
Swallowing past the knot in her throat, Rhea lightly rapped her knuckles on the durasteel doorframe, trying to get the man's attention. But when he didn't lift his eyes at all, she realised she'd just have to speak up.
“Are you the Chief Medical Officer?” she asked, pulling her hood down and stepping closer to the desk.
“That's me,” Kix replied, still not looking up from his datapad. “What can I do for you?”
“I'm here to... I-I was told I-you need to be aware of... I'm... sorry I just....”
He finally looked at her, immediately noticing her distress. “Hey, it's alright.” He put the datapad down and got up to his feet, rounding the desk so he was right in front of her. “Deep breath and let’s start from the beginning,” he instructed, his tone far gentler than she expected.
Rhea did as she was told. “I’m Rhea Akeso. I was told I need to let you know what medication I'm taking.”
“Commander Akeso?” Kix asked for clarification.
Rhea nodded, tearing her eyes away from his. He seemed nice, kind. She couldn’t handle that right now. She hurriedly unzipped one of the outer pockets of the bag and pulled out a small, grey flacon. Easier to just show him than try to explain again.
Kix took the flacon, turning it over in his hand to read the label. “Sertex Plus. Didn’t expect a Jedi to need antidepressants,” Kix mused absent-mindedly.
Rhea’s cheeks burned with shame. “Yeah… me neither.”
His eyes snapped to her. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I’m sorry, Commander, I didn’t–”
“Can we just get this over with?” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I need to get to the Bridge.”
“Of course, Sir,” Kix replied, trying to hand her back the pills. “I’ll make a note in my files.”
Rhea looked at the flacon, then met his eyes for only a brief moment. “Is it possible to get it refilled. They wouldn’t do it back on Coruscant – said I had enough for the journey here and you’d have it in inventory.”
“We definitely carry it,” he said. “If you just wait here, I can run to our supply closet and get everything set for you.”
Rhea nodded, slipping her bag from her shoulder and letting it rest on the floor. The joint ached, so she rolled it a few times, trying to work the stiffness out while ignoring Kix, who was still appraising her curiously, making a mental note of the loud clicking noise her shoulder made. She didn’t even want to imagine what he must think of her.
A depressed Jedi needing medication.
She felt like a kriffing joke.
Finally, Kix went to fulfil his task, leaving her in the empty office.
❀
Fives dragged his feet into the medbay, already dreading the lecture he was about to get from Kix. His vod had warned him not to do any strenuous physical activity while the stitches healed, but did he listen? Of course not. He sparred with Hardcase and tore them open in one day.
As he approached the CMO’s office, Fives pulled the top of his blacks over his head, shivering a little as the chilly air of the ship touched the bleeding gash on his lower abdomen. No point in stalling the inevitable.
But it wasn't his vod he found in the office.
It was a young woman.
Beautiful. With milky skin and lavender hair pulled up in two high buns. She glanced at the door, a little startled since he wasn't the clone trooper she expected to see in the threshold. Fives could see her face then, and Maker, his heart skipped a beat. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown, warm and kind. And her rosy cheeks were painted with two gold, swirly lines.
Rosy...
She was blushing. And her eyes kept dropping to his bare chest.
He had a shot then.
“Kix didn't say we're getting a new civvie nurse,” he remarked as his eyes roved up and down her body in a very obvious manner.
The girl placed her hands on her hips. “Why would you assume I'm a nurse?”
Fives moved closer, making a show of pretending to ponder her question. “Well, you look too young to be a medic.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Wait – how old are you? Can I even hit on you?”
“I’m eighteen, thanks for the concern,” she answered sardonically.
Fives shrugged and flashed her a disarming smile – which annoyingly gave her butterflies in her stomach.
“So,” he continued, voice smooth as velvet, “are you single? Cause you and me could really–”
But he didn’t get to finish his line. Kix walked back in the room, holding a bottle of pills.
“Here you go, Commander, all se–” The medic looked up, freezing for a second as his eyes landed on his half-naked brother, before his face twisted into a scowl. “What the hell are you doing vod?!”
“C-Commander?” Fives repeated, wide eyes darting back to the girl.
“Put your shirt back on!” Kix hissed. “That’s General Kenobi's new Padawan.”
Fives clutched the top of his blacks over his chest. “I-I didn’t know! I was looking for you!” he defended.
“Why–” Kix looked down, frowning even more at the missing bacta patch and the fresh blood dripping from the gash he’d personally stitched yesterday. “Kriff’s sake, you di’kut. I told you to be careful.”
Fives shrugged in response, flashing his angry brother an almost shy smile.
The young Jedi couldn’t stop the chuckle the left her lips. The sound, even if small, felt like a true victory to Fives, who turned to her, beaming. What could he do? He always was a sucker for a pretty girl laughing because of him.
“Get out and wait for me on a medcot,” Kix ordered, before Maker forbid Fives tried hitting on the Jedi again. “I’ll need to stitch it again.”
“Let me try,” the girl suddenly spoke.
Before Fives or Kix could say anything, she stepped closer and reached her hand, the gentle touch of her fingertips ghosting the wound. She closed her eyes, a small crease forming between her pinched eyebrows as she concentrated. And Fives nearly jumped back when he felt the warmth coming from her hand.
It was sudden and unexpected, but somehow very pleasant. His eyebrows shot up, watching in awe as the skin wove together, healing right under his eyes.
“There,” she said. “I was starting to get a little lightheaded, so you'll still have a scar. But all better now, took care of the infection too.”
“Whoa,” Fives breathed, looking at her completely awestruck. “Didn’t know you Jettise could do that.”
“It’s a pretty rare Force power,” she explained, smiling warily. “But some of us can focus it outward in order to help others. It's quite exhausting however, and I’m still learning.”
“Still,” Fives continued. “Really cool trick.”
“Might come in handy on the battlefield,” Kix added.
Her smile instantly faded. “If I’m there to help,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at her boots. Before the men could say anything else, she picked her bag up from the floor and grabbed the pill bottle from Kix’s hand. “Thanks,” she said, quickly walking out of the office.
Her sudden departure left both of them stunned.
“She’s… interesting,” Kix commented.
“She’s awesome,” Fives exclaimed as he rubbed his thumb over his new scar, marvelling at the sight. There was no pain, no redness or uneven skin – it looked just like one of the training marks he’d been carrying for years. He swiftly put his top back on, and rushed out the room.
“Where are you going, vod?” Kix tried to shout after him.
But Fives was already at the medbay doors, and once out in the corridor, he quickly looked around until he spotted her lavender hair.
“Wait!” he called, managing to get her attention. He jogged to catch up, stopping a little too much in her space and immediately reaching for her bag. “Let me help you with that.”
“You don't have to,” she tried to sheepishly decline.
“Of course I do,” he declared, taking the strap from her shoulder and slinging it onto his. “I am a gentleman and by Gentlemen Law I am obligated to carry the bags of beautiful women.”
She shook her head, but couldn’t hide the smile on her lips. “You really like yourself huh?”
“You would too if you got to know me,” Fives said, wiggling his eyebrows.
He wasn’t exactly sure why, but as she studied his face intently, Fives felt his heart start racing. But it wasn’t the usual nerves he always hid so well when talking to someone he found attractive at the 79s. It was something else. Something deeper. He really wanted to get to know this girl – and he wanted her to want the same thing.
“Well,” she said, dragging the word. “We could start with some basic information. Like, your name, maybe?”
His eyes went wide. Osik! How did he forget that part?
“I was just waiting for you to do your Jetti thing and guess it,” he played it off quickly, masking it with a playful grin.
The girl let out a long breath. “I don't go poking around in people's minds. Do I need to get that tattooed on my forehead? I swear – every clone I meet…”
Fives narrowed his eyes. “But you could?”
“Could what?”
“Read my mind,” he said. “The wording you used was very… specific.”
She pursed her lips, probably to keep from smiling again. “Well, yes. Technically, I can look inside your mind,” she conceded. “But it's rude, so I don’t.”
“Has anyone ever told you that, for someone who can literally wave a hand and heal people, you’re a very humble person?” he flattered.
A wave of warm satisfaction flooded his chest as her cheeks once again turned a beautiful, rosy shade.
“Jedi are supposed to be humble,” she muttered, glancing at the floor. “You’ve been spending too much time with Anakin if you think otherwise.”
Fives laughed. It was a loud, infectious sound that made her gaze snap back to him, and a smile return to her face.
“I’ll tell the general that,” he joked.
“Please don’t,” she chuckled.
“But hey – going back to your tattoo idea. It isn’t bad,” Fives said, unable to let the irony of her earlier statement pass by. He leaned in a little, amusement shimmering in his eyes. “It’s what I did for my name. Here.”
He turned his head so she could better see his right temple. Her eyes flicked to the tattoo, tracing the lines of black ink before meeting his gaze again. “Five?”
“S,” he added. “Fives. Nice to meet you.”
She repeated it under her breath, and the way it sounded from her lips sent a tingle down his spine. Maker, what was it about this girl? Fives knew better than to hold any hope of getting close to a Jedi – logically he knew it, and that logic sounded a lot like Rex’s voice – but his heart didn’t always listen to logic.
“Okay, your turn now,” he prompted, trying to ignore the high tempo drumming in his chest.
“W-What?”
“When I said ‘nice to meet you’ – that was your cue to give me your name,” he clarified.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” she said, chuckling nervously. “It’s Rhea. Rhea Akeso.”
“Nice to formally meet you, Commander Akeso,” Fives said, a little too sweetly than was appropriate when addressing a superior officer.
Rhea scrunched her nose. “Let’s not go overkill with formalities.” Her voice then dropped, almost like the next comment wasn’t meant for him. “No one called me that in the garrison.”
“Which garrison were you with?” Fives asked, more cheerful than he could’ve guessed was appropriate.
He could instantly tell that, somehow, he’d just fucked up. The lightness around her was stifled by his question, replaced by a grief so heavy, he was almost able to feel it himself. Any trace of a smile was wiped from her face, and Rhea tensed, squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw. She looked around, as if only now realising she was just stood talking to a trooper in the middle of a corridor.
“I need to get to my cabin and change, then go to the Bridge,” she muttered, trying to reach for her bag.
Fives shifted back. “I got it, don’t worry,” he said softly.
After a brief hesitation, Rhea nodded, then simply turned and started making her way toward the turbolifts. He followed dutifully just one step behind.
The short journey up to the command private quarters was spent in silence, and with her avoiding looking in his direction entirely. Fives knew that silence – he’d felt it after Rishi, and he watched Echo carry it too. So he knew not to push, or try to change the subject, or joke. Even though he would’ve loved to talk to her for longer.
When they reached her door, Rhea pulled out a crumbled piece of flimsi from the hoodie’s pocket, unfolded it, and typed the scribbled number into the control panel. Fives couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the messy notes, and while he managed to stifle a laugh by biting the inside of his cheek, he couldn’t resist making a comment.
“Is that, uh, your handwriting?” he asked.
Rhea finally glanced his way again, one eyebrow arched at the teasing glint hiding behind his words. “Yes?”
“Huh,” he mused, leaning against the wall by the control panel. “I thought it’d be… I don’t know – neater.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a shabuir?” she asked, trying to match his tone.
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s not a word I expected you to know,” he laughed.
Rhea looked away, into the darkness of her cabin. “My ori’vod taught me some Mando’a…” She paused, as if the words were coated in fragments of glass. “Keeli.”
“Captain Keeli?” Fives asked, a pit opening in his stomach. “From the Outer Rim garrison?”
“Yeah…” she whispered.
For the first time since they’ve met, Fives’ tone dropped, turning sombre. “I’m so sorry. We… we all heard about that. If you ever need to–”
“Where do you boys smoke on this ship?” Rhea interrupted. She was too tired of sympathy, no matter how genuine it felt.
“W-Where– what?”
“Smoke. I just know I’m gonna need a cigarra after the briefing on the Bridge,” she continued.
“You can’t smoke on the ship,” Fives said, sounding truly bewildered. “It’s not allowed.”
Rhea rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. But, come on – you look like a guy who knows how to navigate what is and isn’t allowed. Where do you smoke?”
“Me?” he scoffed. “I don’t touch that osik! You shouldn’t either – those things will kill you, d’you know that?”
She dramatically glanced up at the ceiling. “You do realise we’re literally en route to Felucia where, not only is there an active Seppie invasion, but the entire fauna and flora will also be trying to kill us?” Fives didn’t seem impressed by her counterargument. “Look, it’s not like I’m a smoker smoker. But every now and then I really need it to take the edge off and this is one of those rare times.”
For good measure, Rhea tilted her head, showing off her best tooka eyes. Any hope of bringing up the GAR’s strict fire codes died on his parted lips the moment he saw her pout.
Kriff’s sake. She looked adorable.
“Fine,” he relented with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll ask Hardcase and come find you later.”
Rhea smiled, reaching for her bag. “Thanks, Fives. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Not sure that’s what I’d call it,” he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth stirring in his chest.
He watched as she disappeared inside the cabin, then, for some reason he couldn’t understand, his eyes lingered on the closed door for a moment longer.
❀
“Ah, Rhea, there you are,” Obi-Wan greeted when she stepped on the Bridge.
Rhea pulled at the sleeves of her dark purple robes, then clasped her hands behind her back and walked a little too rigidly to the holo-table. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tune out the whispers coming from the clone officers on deck.
Were they wondering who she was or did they already know?
But more importantly, if they knew, were they judging her for abandoning her men?
“Master Kenobi,” she acknowledged with a curt bow. Her eyes then shifted to the other Jedi, purposely skipping over the two clones in blue and orange marked armor. “Master Skywalker. Ahsoka.”
Anakin returned her nod. “Rhea. Are you ready to be here?”
“The Council believes I am,” she responded, diverting her focus to the glowing map of the planet hovering above the table. She saw Anakin about to open his mouth again – no doubt to ask if she also shared the Council’s beliefs – so she quickly made sure to change the subject. “Do we have a landing corridor yet? What’s the status of the Separatist presence in orbit?”
“Two frigates and multiple vultures,” the clone standing closest to Obi-Wan responded. He tapped on the console, zooming of a specific part of the map where bright red dots symbolised the enemy ships.
Rhea quickly catalogued the orange sun-like pattern on his armor – Commander Cody, she concluded.
“Hawk and Blue Squadron will be able to clear a path for our transports.”
That statement came from Captain Rex, but she refused to even glance his way. He was standing perfectly still right next to Anakin, his helmet tucked under his arm, and the weight of his gaze heavy on her ever since she’d walked in.
Rhea swallowed, then turned to Obi-Wan. “Where do you want me, Master?”
“We’ll be landing here, in the norther hemisphere,” he said, bringing the location in view. The spherical image of the planet melted into a terrain map, covered by formidable fungal forests. “Once we’re on the ground we’ll split up to engage the droids on two fronts. Rhea, we’ll be folding you in with the 501st forces–”
“The 501st?” Rhea interrupted, loudly enough to turn all their heads. The attention made her chest tighten. “But, Master, if… if you’re the one taking on the rest of my training, wouldn’t it make more sense to send me with the 212th? Get to uhm… know the men and… all that.”
Cody caught Rex’s eye and raised one eyebrow in a silent question. The Captain shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible. But his eyes momentarily darkened, a shadow crossing his face that Rhea couldn’t decipher from the quick look she sneaked his way. It couldn’t mean anything good – of that much she was certain.
“There will be plenty of occasions for you to work with the 212th,” Obi-Wan said, his expression soft. He then stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she would hear. “You’ve suffered a heavy loss, Rhea, and I can sense the way it is weighing on you. You need to find a way out of the darkness. I believe being among Anakin and Ahsoka – who are closer to your own age and experience – will do you more good right now, help you regain your spark.”
“My spark is fine, Master,” she weakly protested, folding her arms over her chest.
“Humour me,” Obi-Wan gently insisted.
Rhea nodded, knowing it was futile to argue, and so her new Master resumed laying out their strategy. For the rest of the briefing, she stayed quiet, observing passively as he or Anakin, or one of the clones moved the markers on the map, adjusting troop positioning and distribution. At one point, Ahsoka shuffled closer to her, bumping their shoulders together in a silent ‘we got this’. But even that could barely pull a reaction out of her – a small smile of acknowledgement.
She liked Ahsoka. She’d been quite fond of her ever since she’d escorted her and her clan of initiates to Ilum for the Gathering a few years back, and so she was relieved to have a friendly face around. But once she’d heard Obi-Wan say her name in the same sentence with ‘Torrent Company’, Rhea couldn’t really focus on anything else around her.
Captain Rex lead that Company.
Her hope that she’d be able to avoid him during the mission crumbled to pieces. She’d dreaded having to face him more than the thought of returning to the frontlines, and now she would probably be stuck by his side for Maker knows how many rotations.
He hated her; Rhea was sure of it. How could he not – she’d let his batchmate die. Sure, he was covering it up well with a mask of professional stoicism, but how else could she explain why he kept staring at her?
When Anakin announced that the briefing was adjourned, Rhea didn’t even wait to be dismissed. With a curt bow, she spun on her heels and headed to the exit, hyperaware of Rex’s gaze following her the entire way. Thankfully, Anakin had asked him to stay back for some reason, otherwise she was sure he would’ve confronted her.
Her mind and chest were buzzing with a restlessness that was driving her crazy – so much so that she didn’t even notice the clone leaning against the wall right by the door.
“Rough briefing?”
Rhea almost jumped. It wasn’t every day that she was taken by surprise like that. She stared at the trooper, needing a second to place him – thankfully, the goatee and that ‘5’ tattoo on his temple were very helpful.
“I really need that cigarra,” she replied, attempting to keep her tone light. “Just as I predicted.”
“Must be that Jetti magic,” he teased as he pushed away from the wall, plastoid softly clanking with the movement.
She saw the way he gave her a once-over, skilled soldier eyes trailing down from her Padawan braid to her robes and combat boots, no doubt making a note of every identifying feature. In turn, she did the same. He was wearing his armor now – blue stripes on his arms and thigh plates, plus an interesting blaster cannon decal on the right shoulder bell. Her eyes traced the written message right underneath: ‘For Hevy’.
So he did know loss. Of course, most clones did – she should’ve expected it. But grief was blinding sometimes, capable of convincing a person that they are utterly alone.
This confirmed what she’d felt earlier in the turbolift however. A warm, magnetic pull. A closeness she hadn’t anticipated. A deep understanding that almost invited her to speak the thoughts that had been tormenting her for weeks, ones she simply hadn’t allowed herself to say out loud to another person.
Maybe she would. Just… not yet.
“Let’s get out of here before Rex comes out and asks what I’m doing on the command level,” Fives said, eyeing the door she’d just walked out of.
Rhea didn’t need to be told twice – she wished to avoid the Captain just as much.
❀
The Resolute truly was a marvel of engineering. The size of it, the number of people they passed as they navigated the durasteel corridors – she felt like she was back on Coruscant. Fives couldn't keep his eyes away from the wonder painting her face, and the way she kept looking around, trying to take in everything at once.
Unfortunately for him, when Rhea turned to ask where exactly he was taking her, she caught him staring, his gaze lingering a second too long on how the harsh, sterile light of the ship made her lavender hair shine.
His eyes widened for a very brief moment, before an almost practiced, teasing smile settled on his face.
“You sure like purple,” he remarked, hiding his embarrassment behind a chuckle.
Rhea fiddled with her sleeves, pulling on them until her hands were hidden by the fabric. His comment seemed harmless, but that was not how it landed. She loved wearing her outfit, it felt good, but any time someone commented on her appearance, she would get self-conscious. Was she being ridiculous? Choosing dark purple for her robe, a muted, lighter tone for her tunic, and yet another shade of purple for the sash? Maybe she was doing too much.
“It looks really good on you,” Fives added, noticing the nervousness on her face.
“Right,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor.
Kriff sake, he usually was smoother than this when talking to women. “Honest,” he insisted, pressing his right hand to his chestplate in an exaggerated movement that dragged her attention back to him. “Future ARC trooper’s honour.”
The last comment actually made her laugh. “ARC trooper? Very ambitious.”
“I’ll get there, just you wait,” he boasted.
Rhea’s eyes lingered on his self-assured smile. “You have the kind of unshakeable confidence that usually comes with competence.”
“Thank you, I like to think so too,” he beamed, before coming to a stop in front of an ordinary-looking access panel.
She bit her lower lip to fight a smile. Either he didn’t understand the meaning of her words, or he truly was that confident not to let them bother him.
Looking around, she realised they were back on the hangar level, but not in a part she ever expected she’d have a reason to be. The ordinary durasteel door slid smoothly, revealing a suspended walkway between two parts of the ship. Rhea followed Fives all the way across, then through another door that lead to a steep metallic ladder.
“Are we going into the ventilation system?” she asked, feeling a breeze caress her warm cheeks.
“That’s where Hardcase said they’ll be,” Fives replied. “A maintenance chamber behind one of the fans.”
Rhea thought it over for a moment before the credit dropped. “That’s actually so smart!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. “The smoke gets pulled straight into the filters and no one catches a whiff of it.”
“Don’t tell Commander Cody I said this,” he leaned in to whisper, “but the 501st actually has the smartest troopers in the GAR.” He then gestured to the ladder, “After you.”
The ladder climbed up to a narrow, cramped duct, stretching ahead, with only two recessed glow-stripes illuminating the space in a faint blue light. Rhea could stand comfortably, but Fives was forced to slouch down.
“This way.”
She had to press herself against the wall in order to let him get past. Even with him so much in her space ever since they met, she still held her breath. Maybe it was his burning touch on her arm, or their eyes meeting, but, for a moment, the steady airflow in the duct didn't feel like enough. Maker, his eyes. How has she never realised what a beautiful honeyed brown clones’ irises are? The colour reminded her of home. Not of Coruscant – of her true home, Dantooine. And, specifically, it called forth one of the few memories she had of it – running in one of her father's fields, soon after ploughing, as the warm-season rain danced down, softening the soil.
She looked away when he winked, blood rushing to her face without her consent.
Fives chose not to comment on it. Or maybe he didn’t notice. That’s what she hoped anyway – it sure was dark enough in there for him to miss.
Growing up on Coruscant, Rhea thought she wouldn’t be affected by claustrophobic spaces. She’d played hide and seek with other younglings in the narrow passageways and hidden nooks of the Temple; hell, she’d even ventured into the lower levels of the planet on a couple of occasions. Yet, the deeper she walked into the vents, the more it felt like the walls were shrinking around her.
Well. It definitely was a contrast to the large, open plains of Ryloth, or the towering canyons where she’d last seen her master. She’d spent so many months there, even the Temple had felt confining once she returned.
But it had nothing on these grey, oppressive walls. Maker, she was going to need a cigarra just for the damn journey here. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the steady hum of a fan to fill the air, and over its sound, she could make out the deep cadence of clones’ voices, growing louder.
“Movement,” one of them announced.
“Just us,” Fives called ahead.
The duct ended into a larger maintenance chamber, with a massive cooling fan slowly spinning on the far wall. Fives was finally able to stretch and stand at his full height, rubbing the soreness out of the back of his neck.
“When you asked where we smoke, I thought you were finally giving into the peer pressure,” one of the clones remarked.
“Not a chance, Hardcase,” Fives categorically rejected. “I’m only here to help out my new friend.”
He gestured behind him, and Rhea stepped out from the shadowy passageway, taking a deep breath of the enticing tabac aroma floating in the air.
There was more light in the chamber thanks to the lit torches on the troopers’ discarded helmets. Rhea quickly counted four people, and four glowing cigarras. The one closest to them – who Fives had just called Hardcase – had a fully shaved head, with blue lines inked into the skin, and was fidgeting with a small, metallic lighter, unceasingly opening and closing its lid.
Next to him was a trooper with an impressively large Republic cog covering half his face and most of his scalp, but by his side, Rhea made eye contact with the CMO she’d met earlier.
Kix instantly straightened almost at attention, trying to salute, but when he realised he was holding his lit cigarra in his right hand, he hurried to hide it behind his back like a guilty cadet.
“Commander,” he said, bowing his head in a curt nod.
“Commander?” the trooper with the huge Republic cog repeated, pushing himself from the wall.
“Just Rhea is fine,” she replied, smiling awkwardly.
“General Kenobi’s Padawan,” Kix informed his brothers, his voice hushed, as if she wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Right. Introductions time,” Fives announced, slinging an arm across her shoulders and pointing with the other hand. “That’s Hardcase; always have an exit strategy when speaking to him because he will not shut up once he gets going–”
“Kriff you, vod,” the trooper in question huffed.
“–That’s our lieutenant, Jesse,” Fives continued. “As you can see, he’s very devoted to the Republic. Kix you’ve met, and that–”
Fives abruptly stopped, eyes narrowing. The fourth clone was facing away from them – and not only that, he was actually trying to hide behind the lieutenant.
“No!” Fives gasped, pulling his arm away from Rhea’s shoulder. In two quick, anger-fuelled strides, he was behind the trooper, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “Are you fucking serious?!”
“I can explain,” he stammered.
“How long have you been lying to me?!” Fives accused.
“Maker, Fives, it’s just some tabac,” the clone huffed nervously. “It’s not like I joined the clankers.”
Rhea pressed her lips tightly together, trying to keep from laughing, but a loud puff of air escaped through her nose.
“Those two are always like that, by the way,” Jesse told her, leaning back against the wall.
Fives shook his head, but his death glare melted away the second his eyes found hers again. “This traitor’s Echo, my batchmate.”
Her eyes immediately fell to the blue handprint on his chestplate – the most striking aspect of his appearance.
“Nice to meet you all,” she said, waving. Her hand balled into a fist as she quickly returned it to her side. Why the hell did she just wave?
“You’re here for a smoke, then?” Hardcase asked, extending a pack of cigarras her way.
“Yes, thank you!”
She was eager to accept. Too eager. Her hands were shaking – as they always did when meeting new people – and she dropped the cigarra as soon as it was out of the pack.
“Fuck me,” she muttered, kneeling to pick it up.
“No need to rush,” Hardcase teased. “We got enough time until the droids make their scheduled run.”
“I, uh, just really need this... apparently”, Rhea tried to joke.
“Smoking’s bad for you,” Kix warned. “You should quit.”
Rhea watched, amused, as he finished his cigarra, throwing the butt into a makeshift ashtray – a plain grey cup that Jesse was holding – before immediately pulling another one from his pack.
“I see you’re a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kind of medic,” she remarked.
The men chuckled, relaxing a bit more as they got used to her presence. Rhea was aware of how close they were all watching her – especially Fives, who looked displeased. His eyes seemed to narrow even more when Hardcase held out the ignited lighter, and she leaned in.
The rich, fiery aroma invaded her mouth, quickly overwhelming her senses. It was a lot more bitter than anything she’d had before, and the smoke burned her tongue and throat. Rhea choked, an uncontrollable cough being torn out of her. Instantly, a chorus of laughter filled the space, bouncing off the durasteel walls. So that's what they were all waiting for.
“Maker, w-where–” The words tangled in her throat, and she had to stop and cough some more “–where did you find these?”
“Too strong?” Hardcase chirped, grinning from ear to ear.
“N-No,” she wheezed, “it's fine.”
“Here, try one of mine,” Echo offered, crossing the room. “I promise they’re not as bad.”
“I'll take this,” Hardcase said in a sing-song voice, reaching for the lit cigarra in her hand. He placed it between his lips, taking a drag then blowing out the smoke with a satisfied – and unaffected – sigh.
Rhea made no protest, allowing Echo to light her a new one. Her throat still felt scratchy, but she was able to properly inhale the smoke this time, closing her eyes to savour the tingling feeling of the tabac spreading through her system.
“Thank you,” she said, exhaling the smoke. “This is a lot better.”
Echo smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. With him so close, Rhea was able to notice that, just like Fives, he had an identical blaster canon decal on his thigh plate. Her eyes quickly searched the other men’s armor.
“Hevy was our batchmate,” Fives said, walking closer to her. “Mine and Echo’s. He sacrificed himself on Rishi before we ended up in the 501st, so they didn’t know him.”
She almost shuddered. No clone had ever seen through her like that before. It almost felt like he’d read her mind.
“You’re very observant,” she replied instead.
Fives shrugged, grinning widely. “Told you – future ARC.”
“Here we go with that osik again,” Jesse groaned. “First, maybe run one drill – just one – without giving me or Rex an aneurysm. Then we’ll talk ARC.”
“ARCs should be unpredictable,” Fives argued.
“For the enemy, not their commanding officers,” Jesse countered, gesturing with the hand holding his cigarra. “Otherwise, they are the picture of discipline.”
“Is that why you haven’t made ARC yet?” Fives taunted.
Jesse’s eyes turned sharp, and Kix instinctively stepped in front of him when the lieutenant straightened from the wall. “Behave,” he warned both of them. “There’s a Jedi in the room.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Rhea commented, taking a drag out of her cigarra. “I’m enjoying the dick measuring contest or whatever this is.”
Hardcase barked a surprised laugh. “I like her!”
“You should see her use her magic powers to heal wounds!” Fives chimed in, no longer interested in riling Jesse up.
“It’s not magic,” she dismissed. It may have sounded humble, but that’s not how she meant it. In her mind, a familiar, chilling thought momentarily broke free from the cage she kept every fear and worry locked up: Does he see me or just what I can do for them? She packed it away as quickly as she could.
“I was bleeding, you waved your hand, now I'm fully healed,” Fives challenged, counting on his fingers for emphasis. “I'd call that magic.”
“It was very impressive,” Kix echoed.
“If Kix is impressed, then it truly must be something,” Jesse said, bumping his shoulder against the medic. Kix playfully shoved him away as a response.
Brotherly banter. Light and fun and casual.
It was breaking her heart.
Rhea looked down as painful memories started dancing around her mind. Same faces, same voice, only with a few different tattoos and a different colour on the armor, but with the same feeling of warm camaraderie. It was such a relief to witness it again. But it was aching too.
Because these weren't her friends. These were strangers she'd only just met.
The grief spiral came to an abrupt end as an arm was draped over her shoulders.
“You alright?” Fives asked, leaning into her.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, a little too quickly.
“You looked like you were in a different sector,” he joked.
Rhea took a drag of the cigarra, careful to expel the smoke away from his face. “I guess I was… sort of. It happens sometimes.”
“Jetti osik?”
Despite the lingering fog of nostalgia, she actually chuckled. “War osik.”
He hummed a low note, squeezing her a little tighter into his side. Weirdly enough, Rhea didn't mind the physical closeness – it was actually quite comforting, even if the rigid plastoid of his armor was cold and uncaring. But Rhea caught Echo giving Fives a pointed look, and the trooper released her from the hug, talking half a step back while rolling his eyes.
The other men were talking about the upcoming mission, and after Jesse mentioned something about the 212th, Hardcase turned to her, a comically confused look on his face.
“Wait, you're too old to just now become a Padawan,” he stated. “Do you guys get transferred around? Is that a thing? We're not gonna lose Ahsoka to the 104th or some other osik, right?”
“Uh, no,” she replied. “We don't get moved from master to master. I'm uh… an exception I suppose.” She paused, hoping her explanation was enough – but all five of them were patiently waiting for her to continue. “My Master was killed, so Mater Kenobi is taking over the rest of my training.”
“Then why do you have an assigned cabin on this ship?” Fives asked, brows knit together.
“He wants me to work with Anakin and Ahsoka for a while,” she explained.
Their questions were completely normal for getting to know another person, yet her pulse kept getting faster and faster. And when Echo tried to ask the most dreaded one, she was almost tempted to turn and leave. But she was a Jedi. She was calm and disciplined. And also good at misdirection.
“So which general were you with befo–”
“Are any of you in Torrent?” she interrupted.
“Yeah,” Jesse answered, “all of us.”
Unconsciously, she looked at Fives, who confirmed it with a couple of nods. It almost felt like a relief – now she knew some people she could gravitate toward, so she wouldn’t be completely alone in a sea of strangers. Maybe Fives would even help her steer clear of the Captain. For some reason, she felt he would understand.
“I’m going to be with you guys on Felucia,” she said, finishing her cigarra. She then turned to Kix, “I’d like to discuss your triage protocols later. I’m used to working with smaller units.”
“Of course, Commander,” Kix agreed.
Rhea scrunched her nose. “Rhea’s fine. Really,” she tried to object.
But a sharp beeping noise cut off her last words. Hardcase checked his vambarce, pressing a button to silence the alarm before taking a long drag of what remained of his cigarra.
“Right, we need to get going,” he announced. “T-minus 20 to maintenance checks.”
The men moved in practiced unison, throwing their cigarra butts into the grey cup, then picking up their discarded helmets from the floor. Jesse passed the “ashtray” to Echo, who extended it Rhea’s way so that she could also dispose of her finished cigarra. At the same time, Hardcase walked over to the far wall and typed something into a control panel. The large fan began spinning just a little faster.
“Come on,” Fives said, gesturing to the duct.
Kix, Jesse and Echo were already in the cramped passageway, and she stepped in to follow, but paused. It had that particular clean, metallic smell which durasteel always carried – a sterile smell that clung to most parts of the ship. But nothing else. She backed up into the chamber once more, her senses instantly inundated with the rich sting of lingering cigarra smoke.
“Cool, huh?” Hardcase asked.
“Really cool,” she agreed. “And smart.”
Hardcase shrugged, a sweet smile blooming on his face. “Can't take credit. One of the engineers figured out this was the best place to smoke. But I did negotiate for us to use it, so I will accept thanks for that.”
Fives pressed his palm lightly on her lower back, urging her to step back into the duct – but she did catch a frown darkening his usual carefree expression, and what seemed to be a warning look thrown in Hardcase’s direction. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but it felt like a flicker of possessiveness twisted like a spasm around Fives in the Force.
The labyrinth of ducts didn’t seem so daunting when walked in reverse. The known path was always shorter after all. Soon enough, they were all back in the main corridor, with Jesse reminding everyone of a weapon’s inspection taking place later.
“Uh, Rhea?” Kix got her attention, his voice wavering just a little when using her name. “If you come with me to the medbay, I can walk you through our protocols.”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied.
“If you need a smoke again, come find me or Echo so we can give you the maintenance droids’ schedule,” Hardcase offered. “We’ll even join you if we can.”
“With deployment coming up?” Echo chimed in. “I doubt we’ll have time.” He glanced her way, muttering a small “sorry” as he gave a weak shrug.
“I should be fine,” she said with a small, awkward chuckle. “But thank you anyway.”
The men offered curt nods, then left in she believed was the direction of the hangar. But Fives lingered back, looking at her as if he had something more to say.
“Fives!” Echo called. “Inspection prep. Come on.”
“Be right there,” he shouted back. Then he turned to Rhea, that practiced, blithe smile back on his face. “Later, Commander,” he said, a mock salute accompanying his words.
Rhea watched him go for a moment, before she and Kix headed in the other direction, towards the turbolifts.
Maybe being thrown into the 501st wouldn’t be so bad after all.
19 BBY – Coruscant
The pain was sharp, worse than anything he’d ever experienced before. It felt like his chest was being sliced open.
He tried to open his eyes as a loud, roaring scream was torn from his throat. Everything felt off, distorted, and the entire room was spinning.
It was bright. Too bright. A spotlight was hanging directly above him, its oppressive florescence stabbing his brain through his eyes. He was panting, and every breath shot a new surge of agony through his ribcage. But his chest also felt wet. One hand instinctively rose to it, and he looked down to see that his palm was covered in blood. His blood.
He forced himself to sit up, and the pain rippled out of him in a powerful wave, forcefully throwing back two droids and a Bivall man dressed in a white, medic-like uniform.
The man was pressed against the wall, suspended in the air by an invisible force. And he was holding a scalpel, covered in blood. His blood.
This was the man who’d hurt him.
This was the enemy.
The rage he felt was blinding and, without even knowing what he was doing, he held out a shaking hand.
And the man’s neck snapped with the loud crack of breaking bones that echoed in the white, sterile room, before falling lifelessly to the floor.
One droid advanced towards him, but he held out his hand again, throwing it back against the wall.
But the second droid was faster, and it succeeded in jabbing a needle into his neck.
He winced, trying to move, to scream, to escape.
But the darkness was already pulling him under.
As his eyes closed, he saw a hooded figure step into the light.
“Stich him up,” he ordered. His voice felt eerily familiar. “It appears this clone is more interesting than I expected.”
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