This was written to answer @leotawrites request from... like a year ago: They get separated during the battle on Tantiss and find each other again after it's all done.
I realized way too late in the process that I didn't need to write what she was doing during the battle itself. 🤦 But this got me through the worst of my writer's block, so thank you!
Word Count: 3,100
Warnings: Spoilers for the series finale of Star Wars: The Bad Batch, references to battle, mentions of torture and myriad injuries, guilt, and grief.
Masterlist
---
Hunter scanned the dark treeline over and over, calling your name as loudly as he dared.
“Shut up!” Crosshair hissed, shoving at his shoulder. “You’ll give away our position.”
Hunter glared at his brother. “Pretty sure those bolts mean they already know our position.”
Crosshair gave him a mulish look. “Not exactly. They have an idea, but everyone who actually saw us was neutralized by Wrecker’s new friend.”
“Wouldn’t call it a friend,” Wrecker muttered, gripping his shoulder. The unknown beast had done its best to take a chunk out of him before Wrecker could fight it off. Even through the cover of his helmet, Hunter could tell that Wrecker was wincing.
“She’s gone,” Hunter told them both, not needing to explain who exactly ‘she’ was. You were the only unknown in the situation outside of Echo and Omega. And the Batch was closing in on their location as quickly as possible.
“I saw,” Crosshair agreed. “She went after Rampart.”
Wrecker scoffed, glancing out at the forest. “Rampart? He’s not gonna last ten minutes out there with those things.”
Hunter could feel the look Crosshair gave Wrecker, just as he could sense Wrecker’s sheepish regret. “Not that she won’t- She can take care of herself. She’s fast.”
“I can find her,” Hunter insisted. It wasn’t a lie, or even an exaggeration. The two of you had been dating for some time - well, as much as anyone could find time to date around the horrors of fleeing the Empire. He knew your face, your voice, your scent, the vibrations of your footsteps.
He knew where you were at that very moment. Not an exact location, since there were a lot of people in these woods, but he could get within a few yards of your trail and track you from there.
Even as Wrecker and Crosshair glanced at each other, Hunter scowled behind his helmet. He could find you with his eyes closed, even on Tantiss, but there just wasn’t time.
“But we’re here for Omega.” The gravity of the situation dripped from Hunter’s tone, mingling with frustration and a tinge of defeat. “We need to get her out of there while we still can.”
“You two track her and I’ll go get Omega,” Crosshair offered. “You can get past the creatures and Wrecker can guard your back from the reinforcements that were sent out.”
Wrecker froze. “Wai- What? No. We need to stay together.”
You were getting further away. Hunter could feel it, sense the way your footsteps were heading deeper into the forest. He listened until the sound of his own heartbeat covered the sound of yours. It seemed… empty without the steadily echoing thump of your heart behind his.
“Clone Force 99 died with Tech,” Crosshair snapped, and Hunter pulled his full attention to the conversation at hand. Crosshair was… offering to go retrieve Omega. Without backup. He would be totally alone, all so Hunter could search for you with Wrecker along for backup.
“No,” Hunter refused, drawing on the familiar authority he’d held when he was the sergeant of the squad. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he slipped into the old role like it had never left him. “Omega needs us. All of us. So we’re doing this together.”
Hunter glanced between his brothers, seeing the ghost of a goggled face among them. “Let’s go get Omega.”
—
You were so sick of Rampart.
The man had never been anything other than a thorn in your side, but you had agreed that capturing him was your best chance of finding Tantiss’s location. That didn’t mean you had to like him.
Still, you weren’t willing to let him run off and die horribly… or, as a bigger concern, tell the Empire about the Bad Batch’s location. That would be exactly something he would do, you thought grimly, give up everyone else in a last-ditch effort to save his own skin.
And then you had to try really hard not to think about parallels, because you watched a group of troopers capture him, and you did nothing to help. You reasoned that there wasn’t much you could do against a whole platoon, but you really didn’t feel guilty in the slightest as you watched them attach the binders to Rampart’s wrists and march him roughly onto their waiting transport.
At least you had done your best to recapture the asset.
You turned, fighting the urge to literally dust your hands free of the situation, but you froze soon afterward. You… had no idea where the rest of the Batch could be. Rampart had run in a reasonably straight line, but there weren’t many distinguishing marks in the forest. You had no idea whether you could find the others and, even if you could get back to the right clearing, whether anyone would still be there. It wasn’t like they could wait around forever.
Traveling with the Bad Batch had honed a lot of your skills, especially in choosing a path and executing the right steps for it, but you froze for a moment as you weighed the pros and cons of the different ways you could handle the situation.
A loud, horrible crack drew your attention toward the mountain. You had half a moment to wonder whether the Empire would be stupid enough to build their ultra-secret laboratory into an active volcano, but a rush of sound told you something else was happening.
You picked your way through the trees, moving gingerly to avoid the hyper-alert troopers. Eventually, you made your way to a ridge tall enough to look out over the mountain. There, so far around the other side that it was nearly out of view, you could see an interruption in the otherwise-uniform silhouette of the mountain’s slopes.
Squinting didn’t help much in the dim light of the moon, but you tried it anyway. Was it a landslide? That would be an incredible coincidence, and you were starting to doubt that those ever truly happened.
Your eyes widened when you finally saw the towering creature fighting its way free of the mountain. You hadn’t the slightest clue what it was or how it had gotten there, but it had to have something to do with the Bad Batch. There wasn’t enough coincidence in the entire galaxy to explain that away.
At first, the giant hole in the side of the mountain seemed like an ideal place to get inside, but then you saw a swarm of troopers descending on the area.
You ducked for cover as an approaching ship hovered lower and lower until it gently came to land in a nearby clearing. The doors opened, releasing another platoon. Every trooper took up a position, aiming into the forest. You held your breath to cut off all movement, but you noticed that they weren’t aiming at anything in particular.
“Make for the entrance, men,” the leader ordered, his voice slightly rough through the distortion of his helmet’s external speakers. “We got warning that some of the insurgents are trying to infiltrate through it.”
One of the other troopers piped up: “Sir, we don’t have the men to build a formation big enough to-”
“Then we’ll start a partial formation,” the leader said grimly. “Our backup can fill in the gaps when they arrive. Understood?”
A chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’s met him, then they clattered their way off through the dark forest toward the smoking ruin that formed a large chunk of the mountain’s base.
You eyed the now-empty ship. There was a pilot onboard, and you didn’t think you could do anything as wild as capture a transport before he alerted the chain of command about what was happening. But you could sneak on, especially since he was only just starting to prepare the ship for takeoff.
A low, scurrying run wasn’t elegant and you knew that Crosshair would mock you mercilessly if he ever saw it, but it got you to the ship before the doors closed, and the pilot didn’t seem to have seen you. There were holorecorders in the main section of the ship, but their activation happened fairly late in the pre-flight process and you were pretty sure the pilot hadn’t gotten there yet.
The small corridor built for droids would work to shield you from the holorecorders, as well as anyone who might board the ship. If you were lucky, you could get off the ship between landing inside the mountain and the next group of soldiers getting onboard. And if you were unlucky, you could ride comfortably in the corridor. It wasn’t pressurized, but you would be fine as long as the ship didn’t break atmosphere.
However, when the ship landed, the pilot powered down the ship and left. You sat huddled in the droid corridor for a count of three-hundred, but didn’t hear any sounds. Not on the ship, anyway - distant explosions echoed through the hangar.
Finally, you emerged, checking carefully that you were alone. You were, but you hesitated before you left the dubious shelter of the LAAT/i. It wouldn’t be impossible for the Batch to blow up Tantiss entirely, in which case, it would be smartest to take the ship and leave.
But they could also need your help. And if they did, you couldn’t bear to leave them behind and risk them being injured or worse.
So you stepped off the ship, reasoning that they wouldn’t have had time to evacuate all of the troopers yet. Still, there was an extra energy in your step as you raced toward the action. You needed to make sure they knew you were there so they didn’t leave you behind.
When you were close enough to smell the smoke, a skull emerged from the shadows.
You gasped, freezing in place with your hands raised defensively. With more than a split second to look ahead, you could see that it wasn’t a skull at all, but a dangerously emaciated clone trooper.
He was watching you, sunken eyes wary. You kept your hands where they were, though you were less concerned about ghosts than you were about the DC-17M blaster rifle the trooper held pointed at your heart.
“Who are you?” he demanded, a reedy edge to his harsh voice.
You gave your name. You were only dimly aware that there were other troopers approaching behind the one with the rifle - your entire focus had narrowed on the muzzle of the blaster and the wild eyes of the clone trooper. “I’m with-”
“Stand down, trooper,” a more familiar voice ordered.
“Echo!” you greeted gratefully. A glance to the side made your smile grow. “And Omega! Good to see you both.”
“What are you doing here?” Omega asked, watching the unfamiliar clone trooper lower the blaster.
“Looking for the others,” you explained. “I lost them outside of the mountain. Have you seen them?”
“Captured,” Echo said grimly.
Your heart squeezed with fear and horror. Some of that must have bled through to your expression, because Omega gave an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry - we’re going to save them now. We just need to get these injured clones to a ship.”
“There are a few LAAT/is in the hangar,” you remembered, hooking a thumb back over your shoulder. “That’s how I got here.”
“You can fly a LAAT/i?” Echo asked.
You shook your head. “I stowed away.”
“I can,” one of the other troopers volunteered. “I can fly any ship in the Republic fleet. Just get to me to it and I can do the rest.”
There was a sinking feeling in your gut at that. Sure enough, Omega was watching you hopefully when you turned around.
“Omega, I-”
“We need you to,” Echo interrupted firmly. “I’ll take a volunteer group of troopers to go save them, but we need you to get these men to a ship.”
“I can’t just leave,” you argued.
“No one said you have to leave,” Omega corrected. “Just take them to the hangar and get them on a ship. Then come find us. You have Echo’s comlink frequency. Track it and that’ll show you where we are.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Echo said, looking uncomfortable at the idea of bringing someone new into whatever situation he expected to find.
Omega shrugged up at him. “We need all the help we can get.”
Echo’s sigh only served as a wordless agreement.
“Fine, I’ll see you both soon,” you decided. “Everyone else, follow me. I’ll get you to the hangar.”
The process of guiding the troopers wasn’t quick, but it was remarkably efficient. They had already figured out who was well enough to help the others and who should be at the front of the group to help set the pace. That was especially convenient, since it allowed you to help the troopers who were struggling the most without having to leave your place leading the group.
At long last, you had helped everyone load onto a LAAT/i and passed along the coordinates Echo had sent to get them to a safe system. The instant you were safely off the ship, the pilot deftly flew the ship into the pouring rain and you rushed back into the belly of the mountain.
Echo’s comlink frequency wasn’t moving.
That wouldn’t have been too concerning, but it continued not to move for most of the time it took you to reach it. You sent up a prayer to whatever gods were listening that he had simply dropped the comlink. The idea of something worse happening was enough to send you into near-panic.
The sound of your name being called behind you made you freeze. “Hunter-?”
When you had passed the large door, it had been closed. You hadn’t actually known that it led outside, but with the door panel standing open, you could see the long path to a landing platform fading away behind sheets of rain.
More importantly, Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega were just inside that door, dripping wet and looking exhausted.
“What happened?” you demanded, rushing to them. “Are you hurt? Crosshair, your hand… We have to go! Hemlock could be here any moment-”
“Mesh’la,” Hunter cut in, grasping your shoulders so you would pay attention. “We don’t have to worry about Hemlock. Not now. Not ever again.” He took a shaking breath and hugged you close. “We’re finally safe.”
You cradled him against you, nodding in acknowledgment as Omega gestured that she was going to find a ship. She and Crosshair moved around you both, headed toward the hangar.
Hunter smelled like sweat and electricity, his body trembling like a leaf. He pressed his face beneath your jaw and took a deep breath. You could feel the heat of tears against the skin of your neck. Even there, in the horrible aftermath of a long and painful battle, you found a moment to soak each other in.
Later that night, you jolted awake in your bunk aboard the Havoc Marauder. The lights of hyperspace flashed beyond the viewport covers, but that wasn’t what had jarred you back to consciousness - the bed was empty.
It didn’t take long to find Hunter; he was in the cockpit. There wasn’t any manual flying to do, since you were in hyperspace and would continue to be for hours, but he was staring through the viewport as if he was concentrating intently.
“Hunter?” you asked gently.
With his enhanced senses, there was no way he hadn’t heard you approaching, but there was something odd about the set of his shoulders. You wouldn’t risk startling him, not after he had been through so much so recently.
He hummed softly in answer. You took that as an invitation and stepped into the cockpit.
When you were sitting in the copilot’s chair, you let yourself look over at Hunter. His eyes were aimed out of the viewport, but they weren’t as sharp as you thought they would be. Instead, he seemed to be staring through the transparisteel blankly, his focus clearly aimed at his own thoughts instead of at the stars rushing past.
“Are… are you okay?” you asked, fully knowing how silly the question was but unable to articulate it any other way.
“I don’t know yet.”
The answer was quiet and soft, more thoughtful than dismissive. You nodded understandingly.
“It’s hard to believe it’s all over.”
“Is it over?” Hunter shook his head. “Every time I think about… about today… I have to wonder if there isn’t something else going on.”
You frowned. It was hard not to ask too many questions, especially when he was saying things that made you worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hunter sighed lightly, little more than an exhale through his nose. “Not much to talk about. The Kaminoans could break us down and put us back together by the molecule. Hemlock had to do it the hard way. Shocks, beatings, psychological reprogramming. He wanted to turn us into his own soldiers.”
Your throat went tight at the dismissive tone he used. You reached out, closing the distance between your chair and his to hold his hand. Hunter accepted the touch easily, slipping his fingers through yours and giving a little squeeze.
“You want to know the worst part?” Strictly speaking, you weren’t sure that you did, but you nodded anyway. “There were others there that were Hemlock’s soldiers. He had a team he used to capture us and I couldn’t stop thinking… What if he did that to Tech? What if one of those men was my own brother?”
Hunter’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, his voice tight. You stood, wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage. Even as he returned your hug, Hunter choked out, “How can things be over if Tech could still be out there?”
“Let’s get everyone to safety first,” you suggested slowly. “When that’s done, we can go wherever you want. We’ll find him.”
“And Omega?” he asked, almost desperate. “She finally has a chance to be a normal kid. How could I take that from her?”
“Stars, Hunter, we have contacts across the galaxy.” You stroked gentle fingertips through his hair. “We can gather leads from Pabu and, if we find something solid enough, we’ll go check it out. You can decide then if you want to get anyone else involved or not.”
Hunter’s laugh was teary but sincere. “How do you make it sound so simple?”
“Because it is,” you reminded him. “We’re together and we’re alive. We can figure out anything else.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your palm. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I love you, mesh’la.”
“I love you too, Hunter,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. “Everything will be okay. We’ll make it okay.”
---
Author's Note - As you can probably tell, I lean toward the theory that Tech isn't perma-dead. We'll see!
Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who made requests and is being so so patient while I work through my insane number of wips.
Your quiet life as a teacher falls apart when a student wishes you away. Eventually, Jareth has to decide what to do with you.
Jareth x fem!reader (no use of 'y/n')
*This was written for a request in which the reader was supposed to be plus-sized. As such, there are a few scattered references to weight and body shape.
**Not related to my other Labyrinth works.
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.
Word Count: 6,800
Warnings: themes of being forgotten, slight loss of identity, bar flirting, slight harassment, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
Masterlist
---
When you had gotten wished away in your thirties, you were… perturbed.
After all, you had been long past the days of fairy tales and make-believe. Magic was a lovely story element for children, a way to encourage their imaginations and allow them to dream of the impossible. But it wasn’t real.
At least, that had been your theory between the ages of ten and thirty-something. Then, one of your second-grade students in the after-school tutoring session had gotten upset with you. You had told him that he couldn’t have a second helping of snacks unless he agreed to work on his math problems with you. He had been struggling with subtraction in particular, but was so energetic that it was difficult for him to focus.
You hadn’t really been able to blame him - it was after school hours and the sun was beginning to set, throwing beams of blazing orange light from beneath a carpet of dark purple clouds. It was the perfect counterpoint to the playfully spooky Halloween decorations you had put up around the room.
Anyway, when you had insisted that your student sit down and focus on his math sheet before you let him have another handful of gummy worms, he had pouted his tiny face. With an impressive amount of venom for a six-year-old, he said, “Well, I wish the goblins would take you away right now.”
You were still wearing an indulgent smile when you appeared in the straw-strewn throne room with an anticlimactic pop!
The Goblin King was lounging on his uncomfortable-looking throne, watching you with his own indulgent smile. “Wished away by a child, were you? Pity. He likely meant nothing by it, but… well, what’s said is said. I doubt he will opt to run the labyrinth, but let us see if he calls.”
Operating under the idea that you had fallen and given yourself a rather nasty concussion, you simply nodded and took a seat on the cleanest section of the stone floor you could find. It was quiet in the throne room, though you could hear the unmistakable sounds of distant chaos.
It had started small - brushing a piece of straw from the stone slab next to you. It fell into the pit and that made you feel a little better. Then you pushed the straw from the next stone, and the next until the section around you was clear. Then you started using your feet to push the straw down the stairs until it was gathered in a neat pile at the bottom.
“Would you like a broom?” the man with the wild hair asked. You were cautious when you faced him, but he simply looked amused.
“And a dustpan, if you don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “Unnecessary.”
You hadn’t bothered asking what that meant. Instead, you applied yourself to neatening the throne room, working from the edges and sweeping all the debris toward the pit in the center of the room. Even the brown dots - ones you hoped were mud but suspected were some kind of dried fecal matter - lifted easily enough under the stiff bristles of the broom.
At last, the room was clean and you swiped your forearm across your perspiring face. You didn’t know how the pit was going to get clean, but you were going to be miffed if the answer was ‘you’.
When you caught movement from the corner of your eye, you jumped. You hadn’t forgotten the room’s other occupant - how could you? - but he moved with such impossible silence that you couldn’t track him with hearing alone.
The man came to stand beside you and you took the chance to study him subtly. He looked… strange.
You shook yourself, reflexively berating yourself for the unkind thought, but you hadn’t been wrong. His face was narrow, flaring out at the cheekbones. His eyes were mismatched, but not in a heterochromatic way. No, one of his eyes was bluish-green while the other was simply black, as if it were entirely pupil.
His hair was long and straight, though cut at various lengths that left it tapering from his head down. Like a shag haircut on steroids. You were a little jealous and had vaguely started wondering whether you would be able to pull off the style when he turned. You realized just how tall he was.
His mismatched stare was heavy and intense, and you redirected your attention as soon as possible. You opted to look at the pit instead, to take in the pile of straw and droppings, but it was gone.
“What happened to the straw?” you asked, bewildered by the empty pit in front of you.
He smirked, lips twisting with an amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. “I discarded it, of course.”
“No, you didn’t,” you contradicted. “I’ve been standing there the whole time.”
“I used magic,” he clarified.
“Magic isn’t real.”
The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed at you. “Have you not yet realized that you’re in a different place than you were when you were wished away?”
“You said that earlier,” you remembered. “‘Wished away’. What do you mean?”
“At last, the typical questions,” he sighed. “Admittedly, far later than they are usually asked. Allow me to explain.”
The explanation that followed had been interesting, if mildly ludicrous: the man was actually a fae named Jareth. He collected lost and wished away items, though the only ones of them people cared enough to chase down were living things. He guarded the Labyrinth, collected the living things that appeared in the Underground - mostly children and pets, as he had explained - and allowed the wishers to run the Labyrinth if they wanted their disappeared item back.
It could have been a far shorter explanation if you hadn’t been far more convinced by your concussion theory.
In the end, Jareth had gotten tired of listening to your counterarguments and had sent you to ask Hoggle the rest of your questions. Hoggle had answered your questions… eventually. With a lot of complaining and work between giving those answers. You didn’t mind - work was something to keep you from running in circles in your own thoughts, and you learned a lot about the Labyrinth and the Underground simply by following Hoggle around.
Jareth didn’t call you back to the throne room for nearly a week.
“It seems as though your wisher is not going to run for you,” he said, taking on an expression he may have thought looked pitying. “He is at home with his mother, playing and eating and sleeping quite well without another thought of you. Quite the heroic youth."
“He’s six!” you reminded, mildly outraged at Jareth’s censure. “Even if he had offered, I wouldn’t want him running your labyrinth. It’s a death trap.”
Jareth’s expression had flattened at your insult, his mismatched eyes glittering with irritation. “Whether he would have run or not is irrelevant in the end. The real question is: what is to be done with you?”
“I…” You disliked asking questions you already knew the answers to, but there was nothing to be gained by playing things cool. “Could I go back home?”
“No.”
The blunt answer, though exactly what you had expected, still made you wilt.
Jareth, for all that he made you nervous, didn’t look cruel about it. In a voice that was kinder than you had hoped, he said, “Even if I would agree to send you home, it would be impossible. You have been here too long. You have eaten and drank from the Underground. A single bite, a single sip… those could be reasoned with. Enough to influence a dream, forge a connection. But anything more? You are of this place now, more one of us than one of them.”
You wanted to argue, but something in your chest agreed, some nameless tangle of a thing recognizing that everyone and everything you had known were ‘them’. And you were not.
Not anymore.
You had expected to be eaten by the Firies or thrown into the Bog or at least turned into a goblin, but Jareth had given you a different job: you were to be his hands and eyes in the human world.
“After all, no one will wish their belongings to me if they are ignorant of my existence,” he had told you. “You will spread information. Books and legends, stories told by firelight and in dark rooms as their occupants drift to sleep.”
And that was your task, had been for an eternity before you thought to check what year it was at all. People didn’t recognize you when you went to the human world, not even if you happened upon someone you had once known. That was fortunately rare, and became more so as the years faded. You didn’t seem to age, not the way you had. Perhaps there was an extra strand of silver in your hair or an aching joint where there never had been before, but it was uncommon.
Oh, you looked the same as you always had. You could verify that any time you were on the surface. Just then, for instance, you were standing outside of a bar and could see yourself in the shine of the old-fashioned, gilt-edged windows. You were generously curved as you had been before, your face the same shape.
If you stared too long, though, you could catch something strange in your face, in the way you walked. Nothing overt, of course, but something that made you look… sharp. Wild. It drew some attention when someone watched you for too long. The mask of your humanity - what remained of it, anyway - fell away with exposure. From there, it could go either way. Sometimes, humans fled like prey before a predator. Other times, they hit on you.
Had humanity always been like this? So willing to run into danger? You didn’t think so, but it was getting difficult to remember.
Either way, you had barely sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of wine before someone slid onto the barstool beside you. To be fair, you couldn’t be too upset about it. You had been searching for company.
“I’ll pay for that,” the man announced to the bartender. The bartender didn’t look like she could have cared less, but she managed a nod. “So, what’s your name?”
“I’m much more interested in learning yours,” you deflected.
The stranger beamed at that and you smiled back. If you had your way, he wouldn’t learn your name. Even if he did, he would forget it before the day ended and you would never see him again. You would feel guilty about that, but you needed him for temporary relief from your body’s needs, nothing more.
He could never be anything more.
You pushed all of that from your mind and focused on your partner for the evening. He was handsome, the type of person you dated before you were wished away. It was getting harder to remember those days.
The man’s personality was a little intense, but that tended to ease back a bit after someone realized that you weren’t going to disappear from them… yet.
Two drinks in, you had offered a smile that was almost genuine and were getting ready to suggest a change in location when your chest vibrated.
That wasn’t quite the right way to phrase it, but it was a difficult sensation to describe. It felt as though your ribcage and all of the organs it protected shook in tandem. The closest you had ever come to pinpointing the sensation was to compare it to the ringing of a gong, though thankfully, without the noise of the actual strike.
The sensation was a warning that the Goblin King wanted you back in the Underground. It would happen more often the longer you ignored the summons, and would eventually grow painful.
You rarely let it continue that long.
“I have to go,” you told your potential partner, standing abruptly from the stool and handing your credit card to the bartender. “Drinks are on me.”
At least, you assumed it was a credit card. It had no numbers or identification on it and you certainly didn’t have any money, but you had never had trouble paying for anything with it. Jareth had given it to you with minimal explanation.
“Hang on-” the man protested, catching at your arm. You looked at his hand, then at him. Some of your strangeness must have shown through, since he slowly withdrew. He wasn’t wary enough, since he continued to speak. “What happened? I thought this was going somewhere.”
“It was,” you agreed simply, accepting your card from the bartender and scrawling a series of loops on the receipt she slid toward you. “Now it’s not.”
Fortunately for your almost-partner for the evening, he thought better of trying to physically stop you again and you left the bar unaccosted.
Transportation to the Underground was rarely as dramatic as it had been that first time. Instead of a sudden, jarring switch in location, it happened as a slow fade. In this instance, you were walking and your surroundings seemed to blur slightly. When you could see clearly once more, you were in the Goblin King's throne room.
Your forward motion hadn’t stopped, but it was far more risky to keep walking with the goblins thronging around your feet. You looked down at the group currently blocking your way and said, “Excuse me.”
The goblins - who had apparently been occupied in some kind of chicken-based game, shrieked and tumbled to either side. You continued toward the throne.
For his part, Jareth was pretending he hadn’t noticed you yet. Instead, he was sprawled across his throne and studying the riding crop he had resting across his knees. Most observers would believe he was pensive, utterly lost in thought, but you knew better. Jareth loved to be watched, and if he could convince you that you had chosen to look without any prompting from him, so much the better.
“You summoned me, sir?” you asked, reaching the base of the throne and offering a small incline of your head.
Jareth glanced over, managing to look surprised, curious, and haughty. “Yes, I want a report on your progress.”
“Do you mind if I dismiss your subjects?”
“As if you do not number among them?” Jareth tested, a corner of his mouth quirking upward knowingly. When you simply maintained eye contact, he gave a slight nod. “Very well, if it would please you.”
With effort, you managed not to shake your head at him. You were well able to focus even with the din of goblins around you, but Jareth took any respite he could get from them.
“Can you all go downstairs for a while?” you asked, directing the question to the room at large. “I need to speak with the king.”
“You’s is speaking to him now,” one squeaky goblin pointed out, sounding sullen.
Before the others could agree, you quickly cut in and diverted them. “You’re right, I am. But we need to talk about some very boring stuff and we need the room to be quiet. If you want to stay, you can’t make any noise. In fact, you could even help clean the throne room…”
You didn’t have a chance to say anything else, the goblins rushed out of the room in a panicked tide. You smirked at the receding wave of excitable, temperamental creatures. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since you had taught six and seven year-olds, but the goblins weren’t so different from human children.
When you turned around, Jareth was sitting on the throne like it was a chair rather than a fainting couch. One of his eyebrows was raised and he looked impressed despite himself. “Someday, you must help me gain such mastery over my subjects.”
“Impossible,” you told him flatly. “They’re too focused on impressing you.”
“That has always been my burden to bear,” the Goblin King drawled, preening slightly as you tried not to roll your eyes.
Jareth was the king. If you were to be technical about it, he was your king. He had left you alive when he didn’t need to. Even more than that, the nature of the job he had given you meant you had certain powers. The Goblin King did not bestow those lightly. You felt like you owed him at least basic respect, if not anything more subservient.
Besides, Jareth had enough people - well, goblins - trying to respond to his every need. You liked to think that he enjoyed the bits of personality you were willing to share with him.
Rather than voice any of that aloud, you gave a shallow nod. "But you summoned me for a purpose. What do you need?"
With the amusement still dancing across his fine features, Jareth tilted his head at you. "The work I gave you has never taken so long. I wanted an update on your progress."
"My…" For the first time since you had found yourself in this strange land, you were thrown off by Jareth. He had never given any deadlines for your work, never ordered you to be done by a specific time. In fact, the opposite had been true. On the rare occasions that you worried about how long something took, Jareth was the first to remind you that he - and, by extension, you - had all the time that would ever exist.
You managed to scrape together a semblance of competence. "An update. Yes. I can- That is, the work you gave me is complete. I distributed the books, set up special showings of the film, and orchestrated the release of some photographs."
"All of that has been done?" Jareth checked. When you nodded, he gave you a stern look. "Then why did you not return to me immediately?"
As if on cue, something low in your stomach gave a heaving, disgruntled throb. You had never been overly desire-driven when you were fully human, and you blamed that for your current awkwardness - sex had never been common enough for you to grow blunt about your need for it. But you still had that need, and your body’s complaints were almost enough to drown out the weight of Jareth’s stare. Almost.
“I was in the middle of a different task,” you replied, trying to make it sound as bland as possible. Jareth’s attention span was stronger than that of his subjects, but he still made a concerted effort to avoid boring subjects. “Nothing of importance.”
Jareth studied his hands. “No, I imagine there is not much of importance in a dirty tavern.”
You froze. Not that you had been moving very much before, but every muscle locked down in response to the pointed revelation that Jareth could and did know where you went when you were Aboveground. “I-”
“You?” Jareth repeated mockingly. “Yes, you. You allowed a human to ply you with alcohol, then to paw at you. Though I suspect, given the tone of your conversation, that is far more innocent than what you would have done if I had not summoned you back here.”
“But how-”
Your question cut off abruptly when Jareth made a noise of impatience, tapping his cheekbone twice, just below his human eye.
“You watch me?” you demanded, surprise turning swiftly to anger and embarrassment. “Why?”
Jareth treated the question as literal rather than rhetorical, musing for a moment before he answered. “At first, to see if you intended to flee. It would not have worked, but it is always amusing to see humans try. Then, to be certain that you were performing your tasks to my standards. And finally…” The smile on Jareth’s face was indolent, with more than a hint of mischief. “Simply because I can.”
Glaring at an omnipotent fae king was probably not the wisest thing you could do, but your fury made you bold. “And have you watched me during my personal time before?”
Jareth let his head loll toward you for the best view of his self-satisfaction. “Yes.”
With a barely stifled noise of outrage, you spun with every intention of storming out of the room. Unfortunately for you, the powers Jareth had allotted you were nothing compared to his own. Without a sound or a motion from him, Jareth ordered the heavy doors to swing closed and there was nothing you could do to force them open once more.
“I do not see why you are so offended,” Jareth told you, conversational tone coming from nearer than his throne. “I am well aware that humans have needs.”
“Then why interrupt me…” Your hissed demand had caught in your throat when you turned to find Jareth much closer than anticipated. The Goblin King twisted his head slightly to one side, matching the smirk that twisted his lips. You cleared your throat. “Why interrupt me when you know I’m occupied? Like you said, I have needs. It doesn’t help anyone if I’m too busy to meet them.”
“You are missing the most obvious solution,” Jareth informed you, spreading his hands to either side. “I can help meet those needs.”
“You?” you repeated skeptically.
Jareth’s arms dropped and he looked almost offended. “And why not me?”
It may have been a rhetorical question, but you gave it as much thought as he had to your earlier question about his reasoning. “Well, you don’t seem like you would be interested. You don’t usually do things unless you have something to gain.”
“Have I not struck you as altruistic?” he asked. You shook your head, opting for honesty above tact. “Good. You are right, I don’t perform favors out of something as naïve as kindness. I have much to gain from this offer.”
“Like what?” you asked. The suspicion in your voice was so thick as to be almost comical, but Jareth didn’t seem offended.
“Pleasure,” he answered simply. “Do you want to meet your needs now? Or will you wait until the next time you have a spare moment to be disappointed by some human in a bar?”
You thought about waiting, you really did. Jareth was cocky enough without giving him access to something as personal as your pleasure. But you were growing close to desperation. That could make you more likely to be careless in Aboveground, something you weren’t willing to risk.
“You’re right,” you said. “It is the most obvious solution.”
The only thing that saved you from the self-congratulatory smile that slid across Jareth’s face was the fact that you erased it with your lips a moment later.
The Goblin King’s teeth were sharp. It had been one of the first things you noticed when you met him so long ago, but you were still a little shocked to be confronted by that sharpness when you slipped your tongue between his lips.
Jareth’s surprise rivaled your own, though for different reasons. For half a moment, he seemed taken aback by your ardor, but he recovered and took control of the kiss before you could get used to the taste of him. He was like the sweetest wine, and you were instantly addicted.
A hand latched around your jaw kept your head positioned just where Jareth wanted it, and he swept through you like a hurricane. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you were the first one to succumb to wandering hands.
His clothes were always so decadent, and you had been waiting a long time to see if they felt as lovely as they looked. You were delighted to say that they did - textures sliding and dancing beneath your fingertips - but you were more focused on what you felt under those clothes.
The heat of Jareth’s skin was immense even through his clothing, enough to pull an answering sensation of heat from you. Every item of clothing you removed from him ratcheted the temperature further up until you felt like there was fire under your skin.
Halfway through removing Jareth’s ostentatious cape, you pulled away to deposit it safely on his throne. It wouldn’t do to have it trampled by goblins or, worse, land in chicken excrement.
Jareth muttered complaints for every moment you were away from him, pulling you impatiently closer the moment you were in arm’s reach. “I don’t know why you did that. I intend for that throne to be our next destination.”
You cast an assessing glance toward the door. It looked heavily barred, and you hadn’t been able to budge it, but there was a distinct possibility… “Fine with me, as long as you’re sure we won’t be interrupted. I don’t want to toss any of your subjects from the window of your throne room.”
“The door is locked,” he assured you, ducking his head to press wet kisses down your neck before blowing gently across his handiwork.
With a shiver at the abrupt shift in temperature, you nodded. “And no goblin has ever managed to circumvent a locked door before.”
Jareth paused, clearly intent on undoing your shirt, but gave a marvelously exasperated groan. “Fine.”
Your triumph was cut off by an abrupt shriek as Jareth pulled you into his arms so strongly that your feet left the floor. “Jareth! What are you doing?”
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, pet,” he replied, pouting. “I’m not wasting any more time.”
And then he was striding toward a section of the throne room that looked distinctly… soft around the edges, and you recognized it as a portal. All of that was secondary, of course, to the ever-present awareness of being held in Jareth’s arms.
As someone with a proud set of curves, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d been lifted by a lover. That was a shame, since being carried was something of a weakness for you, especially when you weren’t worried about being dropped. And nothing in Jareth’s expression or posture warned that he was about to run out of strength.
You were still basking in the sensation as Jareth stepped through the portal and into a room that was nearly as large as the throne room. The major differences were that there was no pit and that the place of the throne was occupied by the largest bed you had ever seen.
A smile stretched across your face as Jareth set you down on that large bed, and he frowned at you. “What is amusing you?”
“This bed is enormous,” you explained. “Yet I’ve never seen you with anyone.”
“I’ve had a partner here on numerous occasions,” he told you haughtily. “Perhaps you have not seen them because you are so busy finding partners among the humans.”
“Perhaps,” you agreed readily enough. “Or perhaps it has been such a long time that your last partner and I missed each other.”
“That…” Jareth’s lips pursed, “...is possible.”
You didn’t necessarily remember closing your eyes while you laughed at that, but you must have. When you opened them once more, Jareth was looming over you. “Pleased as I am to provide amusement, there are other noises I would rather pull from you.”
Your breath caught at the rough admission. Jareth’s face descended before you could scrape up a response, and then you were too concerned with meeting the intoxicating rhythm of his mouth against yours.
The next thing you knew, you were resting more securely on the bed with Jareth holding himself above you. Both of you were fully naked and you had no idea how you had gotten that way. Most likely, he had used his magic to remove your clothing, but it was possible that you had been too thoroughly distracted by his kisses to worry about something as minor as what his hands were doing.
In any case, you were reveling in the way your hands could roam over him without encountering any barriers. Jareth’s body was pale, muscles dancing subtly under his skin. That paleness was marked with occasional scars - silvery marks that spoke of injuries from long ago. You couldn’t see much of him below the mid-torso since he was pressed so tightly to you, but you could feel the delicious length of him, hot and hard against your thigh.
When Jareth finally pulled away, he only went far enough to make eye contact without either of you crossing your eyes. “I want to taste you. Is that acceptable to you?”
“You’re the king,” you reminded him with a sardonic smile.
Jareth’s jaw flexed and his mismatched eyes narrowed. “Precisely. Which is why I expect an honest answer when I ask a question. Do you want this?”
“Yes.” The confirmation was a little breathless, but Jareth’s reply had been unexpected for someone who placed such an emphasis on retaining control. “Yes, I do.”
“Good,” he told you with a nod.
His patronizing tone might have set your teeth on edge, but Jareth accompanied it with a praising stroke down the length of your body. His fingertips trailed fire from your collarbone, over one breast, across the swell of your stomach, and down to the part of you that was aching for him. At the same time, he slid down until his face was even with your hips and you could hardly keep still with the anticipation filling you.
With your knees already parted around him, Jareth had only to wedge his shoulders between your thighs to gain full access to your core. The sudden exposure to the air of the room sent a chill through the parts of you that were burning the hottest, but the coolness only heightened the sensations.
Jareth didn’t give you any warning, any time to brace. Instead, he ducked his head suddenly, swiping the flat of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the very top. He paused for a moment while you made a sound of startled pleasure, his lips quirking.
“Delicious,” he told you. “I wonder if you’re even sweeter inside?”
Before you could offer any reply, Jareth apparently decided to see for himself. One of your legs was tossed over his shoulder while he pinned the other to the bed. That was the only thing that kept you from trying to strangle him with your thighs when he began to torment you in earnest.
Those plush lips and wicked tongue explored every part of you, wringing pleasure from you like it was something precious he could save for later.
An elegant finger pushed into your core, pressing into the heat and slickness of you without a bit of difficulty. Your muscles spasmed so dramatically that it forced you to sit up - or, more accurate, to try. Jareth’s arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed, leaving you to writhe, squeeze your legs around him, and cry out your pleasure loud enough for the entire castle to hear. The hand pressing you into the softness of the mattress strummed fingers across your hip.
With an expression that felt wild with pleasure, you stared down between your own thighs and clenched even harder around that finger. Your eyes had met Jareth’s mismatched gaze where it peeked over the roundness of your tummy. Mischief glimmered on what you could see of his face, and there was a clear sense of enjoyment in his bearing.
That eye contact sent an electric thrill through you, and you were gone. Your head kicked back against the pillow and you seemed to leave your body for an eternity, shattering into infinite pieces under the onslaught of pleasure Jareth was using to assault you.You may have made a noise - probably had, if you were judging from your experience so far - but you couldn’t hear it over the way your ears rang with the sound of your mind shattering.
When you finally settled back into your body again, it felt too small to possibly contain everything you had felt. Jareth was applying long, luxurious licks to your core, sweeping over the entirety of your slit and it was all you could do to push him away.
Jareth gave you a moment to collect your breath, but soon enough, he was peering down at you with no small amount of pride on his strange face. “Will you recover?”
You were a bit embarrassed by the strength of your reaction to him, but you managed a smile and a nod. “Guess I needed that more than I thought. It’s been a while.”
The fae tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smile showing the white points of his teeth. “My dear, do you honestly believe I have lived so long without learning to draw pleasure from someone? Your state of arousal has little to do with it.”
The post-orgasmic glow kept you from mustering the scoff that deserved. After delivering a sad little huff, you told him, “Humble as ever, Goblin King.”
“I would so hate to leave you with an inaccurate idea of my skill,” Jareth drawled. “I would be happy to provide further proof at your earliest convenience.”
Your breath caught in your throat, leading to an embarrassing cough. On the positive side, that cough gave you a moment to internally puzzle through that. Was Jareth volunteering to do this again sometime? He was technically your boss and your king, and thus a romantic connection you had never experienced before, but you couldn’t honestly say you wouldn’t be with him again. Even ignoring the pleasure - difficult as that was - you… really wouldn’t mind repeating this experience.
“Uh, okay,” you said elegantly.
Jareth simply smiled at you, but something about his intent gaze warned that he understood your thoughts as clearly as he did his own. Still, all he said aloud was, “Did that satisfy you, pet? Or would you perhaps like to continue?”
Before you could fight it, your gaze dropped to the apex of his thighs. He was visibly hard and ready for you, his body betraying an eagerness that was totally hidden in his expression. Despite his state of arousal, Jareth was still giving you the option to be done with him. As he was known for his lack of tact, you recognized and appreciated the effort Jareth was putting into making you comfortable.
And what better way was there to show your appreciation than to offer some relief?
“I think I might need a little more,” you told him, playing coy. You even added a demure drop of your gaze, though you could see him through your lashes.
That was how you watched when Jareth’s expression sharpened, though his voice stayed careless. “I don’t believe in offering partial respite. I shall see this task through until it is complete.”
The smile that fought to spread across your face was only stifled by the way Jareth caught at your ankle and pulled you further down the bed. He surged upward at the same time until you were firmly beneath him. The fae dotted your face, jaw, and neck with kisses as he settled heavily on top of you. Your legs parted automatically to wrap around his waist and draw him closer, but you were taken aback when the length of him pressed against your still-sensitive core.
You were still surfing the wave of heightened sensation when you felt the tip of Jareth’s length notch into your opening.
Jareth’s fingers trailed from your forehead down to your jaw, turning your head until he could peer into your face. “Are you ready for me, pet?”
“Yes,” you agreed eagerly. “Please…”
“Don’t beg, sweet thing,” he instructed. “You never need to beg for me.”
And then he was driving into you - robbing you of any ability to process that.
Jareth had seemed to have an average build below the waist, as you had expected from his elegant physique and slender limbs. Still, he felt earth-shattering as he eased inside of you, enough to take your breath away even considering how wet you were with the remains of your earlier orgasm.
You were utterly still as he pressed in, locked in place by the amount of concentration you had fixed on the feeling of him. But the first time he withdrew from the depths of you, every part of you writhed beneath him. Your hands grasped, your toes curled, your head tilted in an attempt to ease the groan that fought for release from your throat.
Jareth swallowed that groan, dipping down easily to sweep through your mouth just as thoroughly as he had the first time. He plundered you greedily, feeding on the sounds you made for him as his hips danced closer and away, closer and away.
Infuriatingly, he kept you - and himself - poised on the edge of orgasm for an eternity, slowing whenever either of you came too close to the precipice. Jareth chased pleasure eagerly, though, tormenting you with fingers and lips to push you higher without allowing you the relief of release.
“Jareth, please,” you begged as his hips slowed once more.
He arched a brow at you. “Yes, pet? What do you need?”
“I-” You gave a hoarse gasp as a deliberate twist of his hips left the length of him brushing against your g-spot. It was followed by a noise of frustration when his pace slowed to a fraction of what it had been. “Please, I need to come.”
His smile was so sudden that it looked almost fierce. “My dear, why did you not tell me earlier?”
A retort sprang to your lips, but it died there as he shifted infinitesimally inside of you. That minor change had devastating effects on the angle of his thrusts inside of you, which picked up speed until it was all you could do not to drown in him.
Your body tightened around his as it had done so many times before, but he didn’t slow this time. Instead, his lips caught yours as his thumb strummed your clit.
That kiss was only broken when your orgasm hit you like a train, kicking your head back and dropping your mouth open so you could cry out from the incredible intensity of the pleasure that filled you. Your limbs curled around Jareth, constricting to keep him pressed against you as tightly as possible.
On his side of things, Jareth didn’t seem inclined to fight his imprisonment. His hips pistoned between your trembling thighs, burying himself in you over and over until - finally - his rhythm faltered.
Those sharp teeth were bared in a snarl as he pushed himself as deeply as he could get. The warmth of his release flooded you.
When the frantic pulses of his hips slowed, Jareth let himself drop on top of you. His weight was on you for a fraction of a second before he twisted to pull you on top of him instead. Since he was still buried in your core, the motion left you in the grip of an aftershock, but you recovered enough to move off of him.
Jareth’s eyes were closed, but his hands lashed out to keep you from moving as soon as you started to. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, pet, but you are mistaken.”
“I’m just rolling off of you, Jareth,” you told him, exasperated. “If I crush you, it’ll be regicide and I can’t imagine a goblin trial is pleasant.”
“It isn’t,” he agreed, eyes still closed. “But mostly because they show an inability to focus on a single issue for more than seconds at a time. And as for being crushed by you… Not only is it an impossibility, but it sounds rather pleasant.”
“Jareth…” you sighed.
That made him open his mismatched eyes and you were startled to see the changes in them. The blue-green of his human eye was expanding both toward the pupil and over the white sclera. The pupil-less darkness of his fae eye was doing the same, slowly working out until the entire orb of his eye was dark.
When Jareth finally spoke, it was with a smile that showed his sharp teeth. “Did you know there is a difference in the way you say my name now?”
You paused, scanning over his face for a moment before you asked, “And what does that mean?”
Jareth didn’t immediately answer you, but his smile didn’t fade during the stretch of quiet. At long last, he said, “It means that things have changed between us. It means that I encourage you to seek to satisfy your needs in my bed. And it means that I chose the perfect person to serve as my emissary in the human world.”
That was significantly less worrisome than what you thought he would say. In fact, it was even… sweet. “I certainly never thought I would end up here, but I can’t say that I regret it.”
“Faint praise,” Jareth said dryly. “But praise nonetheless. We shall see whether we can further improve your outlook on your place in my kingdom.”
“I look forward to that,” you admitted, relaxing slightly into him.
Jareth’s arms tightened around you, drawing you even closer. “As do I.”
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Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I'm not officially accepting requests, but someone sent this one in and it caught my interest enough to help me break through some writer's block.
Happy Halloween!
I don't offer a taglist for spicy fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist.
Howdy! I had been thinking about Gar Cabur / Gar Cyare and wanted to reread the chapter about the Nulls threatening neverd’ika. So I just reread the whole shebang on Ao3 (echosgecko). I thought you had named our heroine, but I couldn’t find it. There was a comment on Chapter 36 that called her Ziya. Can you tell me in which chapter you revealed her name? Thank you for taking me on this fabulous ride with this series.
Howdy back! You are so sweet. ❤️ Thank YOU for coming along on the marathon that is Gar Cabur/Gar Cyare!
I also read that comment and was a little confused. I have never given the reader character a name and I don't really intend to. I feel like it would almost be weird if I did at this point! 😅
Not sure if that commenter was mixing up GC with another story or had taken some Mando'a to be the reader character's name, but I was just rolling with it.
“Ugh.”
“What is it?”
“These coffee biscuits. They’re terrible.”
“... I didn’t want to say it… but you’re kind of right…”
Gaia and Ryne go to the Second Serving for those critically acclaimed coffee biscuits.
This fanfiction was written after the release of 5.2. Any inaccuracies in future patches were unfortunately unforeseen! I hope you enjoy this simple story, especially as I believe this is the first Gaia/Ryne fic on AO3.
Warnings: Treasure-hunt style adventure, references to past threats, threats of danger
Previous | Next | Masterlist
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Oya'karir (Hunt)
It always seemed like big events should happen at specific and notable times. The beginning of a day, midnight on a Friday night, during a lunar eclipse… Those were times when one expected things to happen.
Real life was seldom so organized, so the text comm came through at mid-morning on a Tuesday.
Translated message: Start beneath the beginning, at the level of experimentation.
It had taken an embarrassingly long time for you to recognize the comm frequency. Ordo had sent you the message. That could only mean that they had managed to crack Ko Sai’s secret code. This must be the first clue.
Adrenaline surged through your veins, making your fingers tremble as your legs ached to stand and rush off. Instead, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and think critically. You copied the decoded clue down onto a piece of flimsi in case something happened to the original version, then sent a message to Alpha.
Comm from O.
You hadn't discussed how to alert each other if and when you heard something. Honestly, Alpha had been convinced that it was only a matter of time before the Nulls managed to decode the message. You had been much more skeptical.
Only minutes later, Alpha sent a written comm back:
Lunch.
Alpha was waiting at your table in the mess hall, a group of ARCs-in-training nervously eyeing his back from several tables away. As soon as you got your food and joined him, Alpha leaned in close enough that no one could overhear your conversation. “Show me.”
You silently passed him your comlink, watching as he read the message, then read it twice more with a frown furrowing his brows. When he eventually looked back up, it was with a scowl. “Karkin’ kaminii. Can’t make anything simple.”
You laughed, and Alpha frowned even harder. “Sorry, Alpha. I thought you might know what it meant. Let me just-”
A single question mark was the only thing in your message back to Ordo. The minutes stretched long as you waited for an answer. In the meantime, you and Alpha ate your lunches.
“I think we should get started tomorrow morning,” Alpha announced. “You have the day off and I can get Trem to cover for me.”
“Probably a good idea,” you agreed. “If we both had to take a day off, we would be at risk of attracting attention.”
“And if-” Alpha cut off as he glanced down at his comlink. Wordlessly, he tilted it in your direction.
Laboratory level, below the sample.
You glanced back up at Alpha, excitement building in your chest. “Sounds like we have an answer.”
His smile was sharp, glinting eagerly. “First thing tomorrow, then.”
By ‘first thing’, Alpha truly did mean to get started early. He woke you up shortly before 5 in the morning, passing you a steaming cup of caf to stifle your complaints. He was disgustingly awake - fully dressed and armored, his helmet clipped neatly to his belt.
Once you were upright and dressed, he led you to the place Ordo had indicated in his message. You were on the lab levels, somewhere you rarely had cause to be. Not only were they among the lowest levels on any platform, but they were also some of the most well-guarded.
Gathering information about the laboratories themselves had been your least-favorite part of compiling your report. The Kaminoans guarded their trade secrets as fiercely as any competitive industry would, so your time in the labs had been spend under such heavy scrutiny that you had jotted down the answers to your questions and little else before you had left.
That was probably the cause of the tension singing through you as you followed Alpha down the hallways on the laboratory level. You weren’t really surprised that Alpha knew exactly where he was going. Spatial reasoning was emphasized during the clone troopers’ flash-training and Alpha had proven to be better at it than most. You had only the vaguest idea of where the Fett genetic sample was in relation to the labs, but Alpha seemed as though he could have confidently located the exact place beneath the sample with his eyes closed.
When you reached it, he came to an abrupt halt. “This is it.”
You checked your chronometer. “We’re making good time. What now?”
“How would I know that?” Alpha asked, absently looking around. “I saw the same translated clues that you did, little one.”
“Fair enough.” You also looked around, searching for anything that might serve as a clue about what the next step would be. “I was just hoping you saw something that I’m missing. I don’t see anything that might be a sign of where else to go.”
“I don’t either,” Alpha said eventually. “We knew it would be well-hidden, though.”
“Yeah, but I was holding out hope that it might be sitting out in the open,” you admitted. “What if they translated the clue incorrectly? Or the Kaminoans have renovated and removed whatever was here in the first place? Can you imagine how the Nulls would react if we had to tell them we got stuck on the first clue? They might kill me for real that time.”
Alpha shook his head at you. “We both know I wouldn’t let that happen. But I want you to keep looking. I think maybe you’re hoping we get stuck so you can go back to bed. I see you yawning when you think I’m not looking.”
You took a swig of coffee at the sight of his pointedly raised eyebrows. “Excuse me if I thought ‘first thing tomorrow’ could mean at nine or something. This isn’t a normal hour to be awake, let alone working…”
Alpha sighed at your complaining while you dramatically leaned against the wall. You both froze at the metallic, nearly-imperceptible click!
For someone who had been longing to go back to bed just a moment before, you leapt away from the wall with alacrity. Alpha studied the door panel with one arm holding you behind him. The panel itself was the same flat white as the rest of Tipoca City’s architecture, and had been perfectly invisible until your leaning had jarred it open.
After studying the hinges as closely as he could without opening the door any further, Alpha turned to face you, pushing you gently backward.
“Alpha,” you protested.
“No,” he shut down flatly. “Ko Sai could have build a dozen nasty surprises into her directions. What better way to make sure her research stay a secret than to kill the first people to decode her message and go looking for the backup notes? I need you to follow my directions, even if I tell you to walk away. Especially if I tell you to walk away.”
“I don’t like you putting yourself in danger,” you answered, striving for honesty.
“Then you understand how I feel.” Alpha’s knuckles rapped sharply against the heavy white plastoid protecting his chest. “But I’m better suited to handle anything this place throws our way. Stay back or this adventure ends now.”
Unfortunately for your urge to keep arguing, that was a good point. Alpha took advantage of your momentary confusion to pick you up and set you further away while he opened the panel.
Instead of it creaking, snapping, or otherwise seeming to be damaged, the entire panel swung smoothly forward, opening into the hallway where you and Alpha were standing. By the time you rounded the panel itself, Alpha had already stepped through the opening in the wall.
He held up a hand in your direction, freezing you in place as he stared intently around the space, studying every facet of the area. He bounced up and down slightly on his toes as if he was testing the floor itself, then gave a satisfied nod. You joined him in the wall itself, but he shook his head. “Wait a minute, neverd-”
You lifted your chin at him. “Alpha, if you think I’m just going to stand here and let you figure out these clues alone, I have an unpleasant surprise for you.”
Alpha chuckled, eyes warm, and you relaxed slightly. “Udesii, sweetheart. We can’t leave this panel open behind us and I want to make sure we can get out if this is the only way. I want you to stand out here while I try to open it from the inside. If I can’t figure out the mechanism, I’ll need you to open it like you did the first time.”
You stared at him, eyes narrowed. Alpha laughed again, holding both hands up, palms out. “No tricks. I’m not trying to leave you behind. I just need to make sure we have a way out.”
“Fine, but if you leave me…”
“Why would I?” Alpha asked. “You’ve already found more of the clues than I have. Of everyone on this rock, you’ve got the best shot at finding those notes.”
You weren’t sure that was true - if anything, you knew it was false - but it was still enough to distract you until Alpha could usher you outside and close the panel behind himself.
Even nervous that you were being left behind, you couldn’t help but marvel at the engineering of the wall panel. When it was closed, there was no visible seam between the hinged section and the wall around it. If you hadn’t happened to lean against that spot, you weren’t sure whether you would have ever found it.
Just as you were starting to worry that the panel and wall were soundproofed and that Alpha had been asking you to reopen it, the panel pushed gently open once more. Alpha beckoned you inside, then latched it firmly behind you both.
Kamino was never loud as a rule, but the interior of the panel felt even more quiet. Perhaps it was because it was a secret, or simply because the ever-present harsh lighting was dimmer here. Either way, you found yourself in another hallway. Other than the different lighting, it felt like an exact mirror of the hallway you had just left, stretching in either direction until it hit corners, following the parallel corners of the main hallway.
Either way, Alpha clearly felt it, too. He leaned a little closer as he said, “I found it. There’s a latch, but it’s up higher on the panel than you would expect. Built for a kaminii, not a humanoid.”
“Since we have a way out, we can move on,” you pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily. “What’s the next step?”
He shrugged. “We’d better comm the Nulls.”
You sent a short, semi-coded explanation of your progress. Ordo sent a text comm in reply almost immediately:
West. 18:00
The addition of a time didn’t make sense, but you assumed it had something to do with how far down you were meant to travel. And if you were correct… “West is this way.”
Alpha stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Wait, neverd’ika. That is west, but not Kaminoan west.”
You squinted at him. “What is Kaminoan west?”
“Kaminoans don’t measure directions like beings on most planets do,” Alpha explained, leading the way down the hallway. He was walking the opposite direction of where you had been going. “Since there is no naturally dry land on the planet, the ancient kaminii never developed a multi-directional system. Instead, there are only two directions for them: following the tide or leading away from it. In this spot, at this time of year, using the tide at eighteen-hundred hours as a basis, west is actually east.”
“That seems incredibly imprecise,” you grumbled.
Alpha snorted. “It is. Most Kaminoans use the cardinal directions now, but what better way to make sure that secrets directions are as coded as possible?”
You didn’t have an answer to that, so you turned your attention to the hallway. The ceilings were high and the walkway was wide enough for you to walk beside Alpha without your hands brushing. It was a space that was clearly built to be comfortable for a Kaminoan, though it wasn’t quite as generously proportioned as the spaces in the main Tipoca City labs. To a Kaminoan, it may have seemed like a slightly narrow and low-ceilinged tunnel. To a pair of humans - even with one of those humans being as large as Alpha - it was spacious.
Once more, your mind turned toward how you and Alpha would know when to stop. Unless the hallway simply ended, you would need something definite to signal that you had found your next step.
Alpha must have been thinking along the same lines. He pressed a button on his comlink and lifted it to his mouth.
“I hope your comlink is encrypted.”
“By you, di’kut,” Alpha snapped back. “As long as you and Mereel know what you’re doing, it’ll be fine. What is the next clue?”
“It says, ‘move the transport’,” Ordo reported. “Nothing else.”
“The transport,” Alpha repeated, brow furrowing. “A ship couldn’t fit in here.”
“Maybe there’s an entrance to one of the hangars,” you suggested.
Alpha glanced down at you with a thoughtful look on his face. “Could be. We’re not close to any of them, though.”
“Part of the idea behind this jare search was that you would update us on what you find,” Ordo complained. “Where are you?”
Alpha scowled at the comlink like Ordo could see his displeasure through it. Without a further explanation, he jabbed at the button that would sever the connection.
Roughly two seconds after the call dropped from Alpha’s comlink, yours began to ring. You tilted it in Alpha’s direction, but he shook his head. “I don’t recognize the frequency. Can’t be a coincidence, though. Go ahead and answer it.”
“Yes?” you asked as you accepted the call.
“I can’t blame you for wanting to avoid my brother,” a new voice said.
Alpha growled. “Thought I told you never to talk to her again, Mereel.”
Mereel’s voice sounded offended, even through the small speaker. “I happen to be her favorite, especially after I stopped trying to convince the others to get rid of her.”
Alpha took your hand and severed the connection on your behalf. You grinned despite yourself at Alpha’s glare, especially when the silence - six seconds, that time - was broken by another call.
When Alpha looked at the third incoming frequency, his expression cleared. “Go ahead and take this one, neverd’ika. Explain what’s going on so they’ll leave us alone.”
“Hello?”
“I should probably thank you,” Prudii said. “It’s been a while since both Ordo and Mereel were knocked down a peg. Too many successful missions in a row makes them cocky.”
“Anytime,” Alpha growled, turning back toward the hallway.
Prudii used your name, drawing your attention away from following Alpha. “Jaing sends his apologies. He’s on a mission right now, or he would have been the one to talk you through this. We all remember that you trusted him more than the rest of us.”
“No offense,” you offered with a shrug. “Though if it helps, I trust you more than most of the others.”
“Thanks,” Prudii accepted, an edge of laughter in his voice. “Can you tell me what you’ve found so far?”
You agreed, and filled Prudii in on everything you had done so far. It wasn’t much, but the existence of secret tunnels inside the Kaminoan network of hallways was new information, even for the Nulls.
“And here I believed we had found all of Kamino’s secrets,” Prudii marveled. “It sounds like you’re going in the right direction. But Ordo was right: the next clue just says to move the transport. From what you’ve told me, Alpha is right. You aren’t near any of the hangars, and I doubt Ko Sai could have fit a transport in there, or added a landing platform without someone noticing.”
“Not helpful.” Alpha was still ahead of you, leaving you to scurry after his long strides. “All you’ve been able to tell us is that we’re right and you had nothing to add. We already knew that.”
“If I had some secret insight into Ko Sai’s mind, I would have found those notes while we were on-planet.”
Alpha stopped and made a grab for your hand. You danced backward, talking quickly. “Okay, Prudii, thank you! I’ll let you know when we find anything that looks like it could match the next clue.”
“Be caref-”
“He was just telling us to be careful,” you informed Alpha reproachfully.
Alpha released your wrist. “We wouldn’t need to be careful if he and his brothers hadn’t set you up to find their precious notes.”
“I thought we agreed that it was a better choice than letting them keep trying to kill me,” you pointed out. “I remember asking you if you thought it was a good idea.”
“I-” Alpha glanced down at you and heaved a sigh. “I did. At least, it was a better idea than having to watch your back around them. But I didn’t think there would be this much danger.”
“What danger?” you asked. Alpha sent you a reproachful look and you doubled down. “I’m serious! What danger? I haven’t seen anything that seems overly dangerous yet. Are you seeing something that I’m not?”
“No, just that Ko Sai went to a lot of trouble to keep this place a secret.” Alpha gestured around you both. “If she thought these notes were important enough to program an automatic self-destruct into it, the physical copy will only be better guarded. I don’t like the idea of going through all of this trouble just for the Nulls.”
“Is it just for the Nulls?” you pressed. “I gathered that what they learn from the notes could be big enough to impact all of the clone troopers, not just those six.”
“Maybe,” Alpha conceded. “But that’s the shadow of a chance. It’s much more likely than one or both of us will be injured or worse trying to find the notes. That’s what we deal with as ARCs - weighing the chances against each other. If there’s a five percent chance that the Nulls will get useful intel from the notes and an eighty percent chance that we’ll risk our lives getting it, the mission is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Do you want to go back?” you asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. You weren’t exactly in Alpha’s line of sight, but he halted immediately to look back at you. “I’ll tell them that we can’t help find the notes.”
Alpha’s lips twisted in a smug sort of smirk. “They’d be thrilled.”
“They don’t matter to me as much as you do.” You reached out to take Alpha’s hand. “If you’re really worried, we can stop right now.”
Alpha paused for a long moment, fingers wrapping around yours. “Don’t suppose you’d let me continue the search without you.”
It hadn’t been a question, but you still shook your head in answer.
He sighed. “Fine. Let’s keep going. But if we don’t find something in the next ten minutes, we’re going back.”
“Deal,” you agreed. Alpha set off down the hallway once more as you rushed behind him.
Exactly seven minutes down the hallway, Alpha turned a corner and hesitated. You ducked out from behind him immediately, and found yourself looking at a small sitting area. Two Kaminoan-sized chairs were placed side by side, angled slightly toward each other as if to facilitate a conversation between theoretical occupants. Between the chairs was an ornate display table bearing a statue of an aiwha.
Alpha eased closer. “Ko Sai doesn’t seem like the type to invite guests so close to her secret research.”
“No, she doesn’t,” you agreed. “Kaminoans in general don’t seem to like alcoves like this.”
“No dust,” Alpha noted, studying the statue and both chairs. “I didn’t see or hear anything in the entrance that would indicate that this whole area is hermetically sealed. Maybe she had some kind of specialized air filtration system set up around this area.”
“If so, we have to be close,” you summarized.
Alpha motioned for you to stay there, then walked determinedly to the next corner in the hallway. He turned back almost immediately. “The hallway ends in another 20 meters. This has to be it.”
While he walked back, you examined the seating area.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kaminoan chairs that don’t drop out of the ceiling.” You frowned at the statute. “Or decorations like this. I always thought they considered them frivolous-”
You reached out for the statue, ignoring the warning Alpha growled as you did so. The instant your fingertips touched the smooth, cool surface of the carved aiwha, the floor opened under your feet and you dropped like a stone.
---
Author's Note - Uh, oh! A cliffhanger! Sorry about that.
Just to give you an idea how bad I am at estimating, I wrote this adventure to take place over one chapter. It ended up being almost 12k words, so it will be split over three different chapters.
Please note: this first chapter was pretty light-hearted, but mind the warnings on the other two. I had to write with my gut instead of my heart and things get a little... dark.
Warnings: Arachnophobia, fear, suspicion of treason, blaster threats, spider death
---
It was shockingly easy to trade away a patrol shift.
Granted, not everyone loved patrols. Especially when the weather was slated to be poor or if you were assigned an overnight patrol. Fortunately, you were willing to do anything else. Kitchen work, ammunitions inventory, latrine duty… you weren’t picky.
And there was always someone willing to negotiate for a trade.
It probably helped that Chopper Base was so small. For all you knew, it was the only permanent Rebellion base, and you saw the same faces every day. That was bad for a variety of reasons, both personally and for the sake of the Rebellion, but it meant you knew exactly where to go when you wanted to work out a trade.
Which was why you were extra confused when Captain Rex walked up to you in the mess hall, knocked twice on the surface of your table, and jerked his chin toward the door. “C’mon, patrol time.”
You stared at him, aghast. The mess hall was spotless, thanks to your hours of hard work the night before. All of that had been done specifically because you had traded shifts with Pynsu, who was supposed to be on patrol with the captain that night.
“No, I had KP last night,” you countered shakily. “Pynsu is on patrol tonight. We traded.”
Captain Rex gave you the single most unimpressed look you had ever seen a human wear. “I’ve memorized every rule, protocol, and procedure the Rebels have come up with. None of them say anything about trading away a duty you were assigned. Let’s go.”
You would have loved to argue further, but there were two major problems. First, as a captain, Rex outranked you and almost everyone else who consistently worked on Chopper Base. Second, he had already walked away. You had no choice but to dump your tray and awkwardly trot along after him.
The captain didn’t make it easy to catch up and you were breathing heavily by the time you were trailing at his heels. His pace was brisk, and catching your breath took forever. Still, you had the time since you were apparently starting your patrol on the far side of the base that evening.
Despite your burning lungs, you didn’t ask Captain Rex to slow down. How could you? He was the most well-known person on Chopper Base, and easily the most highly respected these days.
His status as a war hero from the days of the Clone Wars was a mark in his favor. He had been a captain then, just as he was now, and he had served alongside some of the most famous Jedi generals. Though the accelerated aging built into clone genes was clearly starting to affect him, Rex was still tough and strong, his tactical skills easily on par with the best Rebel strategists. He was, in short, a living legend.
And, at this particular moment, you were impressed by his cardiovascular health and the fact that he wasn’t even breathing heavy after speed-walking up a hill.
When you reached the makeshift fence of border spikes driven into the ground, you slowed and stopped, trying not to openly clutch at your side. Fortunately, Captain Rex stopped in the same place so you didn’t seem to be giving up entirely.
The moon was bright overhead, giving excellent visibility of the hills and strange rock outcroppings that surrounded Chopper Base. It was close to the perfect spot for a base - on enough of a hill that you could easily see anyone attempting to sneak up from the surrounding area, but nestled deep enough that you weren’t immediately apparent to anyone who may fly overhead. And no one flew overhead.
But you cursed the bright moon and the clear view of the surrounding areas for the same reason you didn’t think Chopper Base was the perfect solution many of the Rebellion had believed it to be: the spiders.
The instant you had gotten close enough to hear the hum of the border spikes, you could see the lurking gray blobs of the spiders and feel the vibrations of their ever-shifting legs hitting the ground. The creatures bobbed back and forth outside of the fence, and you weren’t sure whether they were waiting for an opening or trying to hypnotize you into leaving the safety of the fenced-in base.
Either way, you dropped your gaze and tried not to shudder.
“Nice night.”
The bland, almost laughable comment was the first thing either of you had said since you left the mess hall, and you turned to stare openly at Captain Rex.
You supposed that, if you took the night at face value and ignored the hulking arachnids lurking nearby, it was a nice night. Between the spiders and the bats that occasionally swooped past overhead, the bugs were well under control. The nighttime temperature was almost perfect, and you had already noted the brightness of the moon. If you weren’t terrified, it would have been almost serene.
“Yeah.”
If the captain was bothered by the shortness of your answer, he didn’t say anything about it. You stood in companionable silence, Rex scanning the surrounding perimeter while you kept your eyes fixed on the ground just outside of the border spikes.
“You know something I don’t?”
Rex’s question came as another surprise, largely due to the fact that you had been standing guard in silence for almost ten minutes.
“Sorry?” you asked, trying to focus. By this point, Captain Rex wasn’t going to think you were a true asset to the Rebellion, but you could manage to sound like a halfway intelligent person. Probably.
He nodded at the ground. Specifically, the section you had been watching. “Looks like you’re expecting an attack from underground. Something I should know about?”
You forced a laugh, though it held a hint of a shudder. You could hear one of the spider’s jaws clicking even from where you were standing. But you pushed away the awareness of your crawling skin and pulled your gaze upward. And when making direct eye contact with a spider made you want to gasp, you tipped your head further back until you were staring up at the sky.
“Closer,” Rex commented. “At least you’ll be the first to notice if the Empire launches a ship against us. Want to try one last time?”
In fact, you didn’t want to, but you let your eyes drift down once more. You were focusing intently on the foreground, as if you were trying to count the dust particles in the air. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped, and your attention was soon captured by one of the spiders.
You shuddered, and it was only luck that the captain had turned to look in the other direction when you did. You weren’t ashamed of your arachnophobia, per se… except when you were being particular arachnophobic in front of a living legend and war hero.
It didn’t help your confidence that Rex was still an extremely handsome man.
“I don’t want to believe you’re a traitor.”
The statement was calm and quiet, enough so that you didn’t immediately react. For a strange moment, you actually thought he had been talking to himself. But there was a new, terrible tension in the air and you could sense how still he was standing behind you.
You glanced back over your shoulder at him. He was standing as casually as he had been when you had first arrived at the location, but you noticed for the first time that he had a set of dual blaster pistols strapped to his hips. Rex’s hands weren’t quite touching the grips of those pistols, but they were within easy grabbing distance of the weapons.
Suddenly, you got the feeling they weren’t just for protection from spiders or Imperial infiltrators.
You turned around slowly to face him, easing your hands upward and out to your sides. Whatever was going on, you didn’t want to do anything that would lead to a blaster wound. Or worse.
“Why do you always trade shifts?” Rex asked. Now that you were looking directly at him, you could see the bleeding sharp focus in his dark eyes.
“I don’t like patrol duty,” you explained.
Rex’s hands dipped lower, drifting close to his blasters. “And it’s just a coincidence that the shifts you trade for end up with you cleaning the comms room alone overnight?”
“Yes?”
As soon as you heard the uncertainty in your own voice, you winced. It wasn’t a lie - it really was a coincidence. You had just… never thought about that before. Yes, you were often alone in the comms room, but that was because you were usually there in the small hours of the morning. Droids were left to observe the comms systems if there wasn’t an active Imperial presence in any nearby system.
“I don’t believe you.” Faster than you would have thought possible, the blasters were in Rex’s hands, both aimed at you.
“Captain… Rex, please,” you started, but were interrupted by a loud chittering sound behind you. Every part of your body was within the perimeter of the base, but your back was toward the spikes of the fence. The reminder of the giant spiders scuttling around, unobserved in the dark, made you shiver and take an instinctive step forward.
One of Rex’s hands lifted and the other lowered a fraction. “Stay still. I don’t want to put a bolt through that pretty head, but I will if you force me to.”
If you weren’t freezing with cold terror, you would have been ridiculously flattered by him saying that you had a pretty head.
“I’m not a traitor,” you repeated, forcing your thoughts away from the inanity of pretty heads and back to reality of making sure yours continued operating without a blaster bolt through it. “There’s an explanation for all of this. I don’t like patrol duty. Usually, the shifts people want to trade are scheduled to last overnight. And it’s easiest to clean the comms room when only droids are inside.”
“Really?” he asked skeptically. “Because here’s what it looks like from the outside: First, you trade away the only shifts where you have to work with another person. No one to question your motives. Second, you always work at night, and those shifts are all across the base. That gives you time and privacy to gather information. Third, you’re in the comms room at least twice every week. Plenty of chances to make transmissions to the Empire.”
“That’s not- It- I’m not a spy!” you stammered, outraged, but unable to refute any of what Rex had said. Yes, you had the opportunity to spy, but that didn’t mean you had actually done it.
“Then explain it to me,” Rex challenged. “Explain why you’ve only worked one other patrol shift and you spent the entire thing refusing to speak with your partner.”
“I’m arachnophobic!” It burst out of you, but you weren’t upset about that. Obviously, you hadn’t earned the captain’s respect. Far from it, if he was accusing you of being a traitor to the Rebellion. It didn’t actually matter if he knew you were terrified of the spiders outside of the base.
Rex didn’t say anything. More importantly, the blasters didn’t waver from their places aimed at your head and heart. You let more of an explanation pour from you: “I hate spiders. I don’t go on patrol duty because I would be too focused on them to notice if Palpatine himself was standing outside of the fence. It’s best for everyone if I stay inside the base and away from here.”
“Arachnophobic, eh?” Rex mused. He sounded thoughtful, but you were nervous when the blasters didn’t change position at all. “We’ll see about that.”
“Wh-?”
Before you could finish asking the shortest question you had, Rex had holstered one blaster and motioned you closer to the border spikes. You took a single step backward, skin crawling. Rex kept you in his sights as he walked in a wide circle around you. He ended up at the border, then used his free hand to wave between the spikes.
You watched in confusion, then in horror as one of the massive spiders scented prey and started toward you.
Rex pulled his arm back in, seemingly satisfied. He motioned at you with the blaster he was still holding. “Go on.”
This would be a stupid way to die, you thought, verging on desperate tears. “No. If you’re going to kill me, kill me. Don’t feed me to that thing.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” he explained patiently. “I’m going to test whether you’re really that scared of the spiders. If you are, I’ll believe you. If you aren’t… well, we’ll need enough of you to have a trial and figure out what intel you’ve passed along to the Empire.”
With that ominous statement, he waved you forward again. You weren’t sure exactly how you were walking, since everything below your neck was currently numb, but you found yourself at the very edge of the base’s border. The fence spikes hummed to your left and right sides, not nearly as far in front of you as you would prefer.
The spider eyed you sharply. Since Rex was safe again and further away from the wall, it had clearly decided on different prey.
It moved closer in an erratic, skittering sort of movement, clearly intended to be something you couldn’t anticipate. However, you were watching it with an intense focus borne of incredible fear. It had ended up hypnotizing you after all, but not because of any innate ability it had.
You were still inside the border fence - that was what you kept telling yourself. It was fine, the spider couldn’t actually reach you. Never mind that it towered over you as it got closer and closer. Never mind that you could see something dripping from the fangs it was baring at you. Never mind that you were making eye contact with it and found only fascination and a bone-deep hunger staring back at you…
With the fear and adrenaline flooding your system, you were hyper-aware of everything going on around you. There was a whirr and a soft beep from behind you, but it was so much less threatening than the approaching arachnid that you discarded it immediately. The spider’s steps made the ground tremble under your feet, making the weakness in your knees even more pronounced.
You could feel its breath. Surely that was impossible… wasn’t it? It was close, far too close by then. Close enough that you could see the walls of its tall body expanding and contracting at regular intervals. You swore you could feel the air playing across your face…
“Okay, you can step back now.”
The sound of Rex’s voice should have been a relief, but you were far too focused on the massive predator in front of you to worry about minor things like human speech.
“Step back.” Rex’s voice was more urgent then, but it wasn’t enough to force you into motion. “Come on, get away from there.”
The assurance was nice, but it was helpless against the icy fear that had overtaken your entire body. The chill was deep enough that you didn’t flinch in the slightest when a strong arm looped around your stomach and started applying steady pressure.
When you were far enough from the border fence - ‘far enough’ meaning that you and spider wouldn’t touch, even if you both extended a limb - you took such a rasping breath that you realized you hadn’t done so in far too long. The moment you did, it was as if your body shifted from prey mode into a sudden awareness of how afraid you had been.
Your lungs burned as you took in deep, shuddering breaths. Every limb was shaking, and you couldn’t have gripped anything smaller than a canteen at that moment - tested when Rex handed you his canteen. Instead of drinking from it, however, you opted to sink slowly down to the ground. Your knees simply wouldn’t hold you anymore.
“Easy, easy,” Rex soothed, squatting beside you as you braced your elbows against your thighs and tried to collect yourself. His hand rested heavy between your shoulder blades, a warm and soothing weight that reminded you to breathe.
You were shaking, feeling hollow with the slow recede of adrenaline. Still, you managed to pant out the most important question: "Is… it… gone?"
Rex looked up and you followed his gaze. The spider was still just outside the fence and - as if it were infuriated by your attention - reared up and clawed for you, jaws clattering.
You hadn't seen Rex draw his blaster, but two loud reports sounded beside you, matching the almost instant holes bored into the spider. It shrieked once, then collapsed slowly onto its side. You shuddered again as you watched its legs curl beneath it.
"Gone now," Rex told you. "Keep breathing and you'll be just fine in a minute."
If you kept looking at the spider, you would never be able to focus. You turned your back to the dead arachnid, scooting further away from the fence as you did. Rex gave you an inscrutable look as you did, likely because the movement put you closer to him.
But you couldn't see anything with your face buried in your hands. Without the visual reminders of everything that had just happened, you felt yourself calming.
"Did I pass?"
Despite the palms in front of your lips and the way the words had been aimed at your own lap, Rex heard you. When he answered, there was a tightness in his voice that worried you until you realized that it was laughter.
"Yeah, you passed." There was a pause, then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to put you through that. We can't take the chance that the Empire knows about this place."
"I understand." It felt ridiculous to say since you were still trembling like a leaf, but you did get why they would think you were suspicious. "I really am scared of spiders."
"No kidding," Rex said, clearly trying not to laugh again. "I've never seen anyone's pulse that high when they were standing still. Between that and the adrenaline spike, I think we should get you back to base."
"We're… on patrol…" you said slowly. You let your hands lower away from your face, carefully not looking at the spider's body. “We can’t just leave.”
“Are you going to be able to focus on anything other than the spiders?”
You grimaced. “They are the most immediate threat.”
Rex stood, reaching an arm down toward you. “Doesn’t matter if we leave. This is an extra guard shift. All the normal guard shifts are filled. I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave a gap in security if you had been a traitor and decided to fight back.”
You stared at his hand, wondering dimly if that scenario had been meant for the possibility of him killing you or you killing him. Knowing Rex and his reputation for preparedness, he had probably been covering his bases for either.
His hand was warm and large, and you had no sooner taken it than he pulled you to your feet. Your knees trembled dangerously, but you managed to keep yourself upright. “I think I want to go back to the base. I- I’m not going to do much good out here.”
“Let’s go back, then,” Rex agreed, turning toward the buildings of the base. He wasn’t touching you, but you could feel warmth at the small of your back, as if he were hovering in case you started to stumble.
“I do help the Rebellion,” you told him. It was abrupt after the two of you had been walking in silence for so long, but you felt the need to tell him that. “Maybe I avoid patrols, but I help out in other ways. Cleaning, helping in the kitchen, maintaining the weapons.”
“I know, mesh’la,” he assured you. “You touch every part of this base’s operations other than guard duties. That’s what first drew our attention.”
“Our?” you repeated, stomach sinking again. “Who else thinks I’m a traitor?”
“My brothers and I are responsible for the security of this base,” Rex said steadily, redirecting from outright accusations of treachery. “”We noticed that you were everywhere, but always alone. That’s a warning sign for someone who isn’t who they claim to be. It all makes sense now, but you have to admit that it looked suspicious.”
“I know it did,” you admitted freely. A horrible thought struck you and your voice was tense as you asked, “I don’t have to do this again with Wolffe and Gregor, do I?”
Rex chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. I’ll tell them what I learned and clear any suspicion from your name. I might accompany you on your next few shifts, but everything else is fine.”
You frowned. “So you still think there’s a possibility that I’m passing information to the Empire?”
“No, I don’t,” Rex denied, eyes kind as he glanced over at you. “But I don’t like the idea of you being alone all the time. That isolation isn’t good for anyone, especially with the stress of fighting the Imps. If I’m around, you’re always welcome to spend time with me. I lived with Wolffe and Gregor for longer than any being should ever have to. I could use some good company for a change.”
With some effort, you kept your expression smooth and your breathing steady. You didn’t want to presume anything, but it seemed like Rex might be… flirting with you.
You smiled at him, heart stuttering when he smiled back. “I’d like that.”
---
Author's Note - Welcome to my experience watching those episodes of Rebels as someone with arachnophobia. It was… not a good time. This is my first time writing Rebels-era Rex, so please let me know if you have thoughts or advice for next time!
Sergeant Boss x gn!reader (no pronouns, no use of 'y/n')
Word Count: 4,700
Warnings: Frustration, feelings of otherness, disrespect
---
“Ten o’clock, Boss,” Scorch muttered, elbowing Boss lightly in the side.
Boss glared, but he knew it was useless. Nothing could put a damper on Scorch’s personality, especially when he thought he was helping. Besides, the head’s up was a sign that there were more important things to focus on.
And, sure enough, there you were.
A long-term mission with standard troopers hadn’t been a good use of Delta Squad’s time, in Boss’s opinion. The main strength of a commando squad was that they were fast and subtle, able to move in and out of an area without drawing a lot of attention. Strapping them with an entire Venator-class Star Destroyer was taking away that advantage as much as anyone could.
But you had turned out to be an unexpected benefit. From what Boss could gather, you did something with the computational systems aboard the Resolute, though he hadn’t narrowed down exactly what your specialty was. You seemed to bounce all over the ship, working on whatever needed attention at that particular moment.
Maybe you would have continued to be just another member of the ship’s crew - nat-borns weren’t common on ships, but they were hardly as rare as he would have thought - but you had quickly drawn Boss’s attention with your sharp temper.
The first time someone had interrupted a vital power connection so they could charge a datapad, you had removed the offending connection and taken the datapad for good measure. The foolish owner had attempt to dress you down for confiscating the datapad, but you had pushed him aside with ease. In the end, you had threatened to tell his commanding officer that he had left sensitive information in such an easily accessible place.
Any other stupidity had been met with an equal amount of sarcasm and impatience. It was everything Boss wanted to do when he was tired of trying to set a good example for the rest of Delta Squad. There was only so much idiocy any one person could be expected to endure, and it was clear that you had hit your limit.
So, yes, watching you was one of Boss’s great joys. He justified it to himself that he was being respectful. He could also make sure others were being respectful, as well. From your temper, Boss assumed that you could take care of yourself, but you were in an unfamiliar place. You were outside of the typical power structure, which could put you at a disadvantage if someone decided to push your boundaries.
Boss only realized how far his thoughts had drifted when he felt the others staring at him. Sev shook his head despairingly. “I thought you’d be able to handle yourself better than this, Sarge.”
“Are you kidding?” Scorch asked. “This is the first time I’ve seen him look that way at something other than his Deece.”
“Shut up, Six-Two,” Fixer ordered. “Three-Eight, if you want to make a good impression, I hear conversation is a good start. You won’t get anything out of staring from across the room.”
“For once, I agree with Fixer,” Scorch said.
“I do, too,” Sev said.
Boss started to seriously consider the merits of desertion.
“We’ll leave you to weigh your options,” Fixer said, marching away. Sev and Scorch followed after a moment. Scorch offered a broad grin as he left, nodding so determinedly toward you that he attracted a suspicious look from your direction.
Boss turned away before you could follow Scorch’s gaze to him. That was all he needed - to be taken out by Scorch’s irritating nature before he’d even had the chance to make a good first impression.
By the time he glanced back over, you were putting the finishing touches on some wires you had been setting up near the front of the room where this meeting was to take place. He didn’t envy you - the Negotiator was moving in and out of hyperspace to throw off chances of being tracked. It was a strong method of ensuring security, but it made connections to outside sources complex and unreliable.
You hardly seemed concerned, face unworried and hands sure as you wove together connections, typed strings of code into the terminal, and laid out the holoprojectors.
Boss tucked his helmet under one arm, inching closer to you under the guise of making room for the others who were filtering into the meeting room. You were just as stunning up close. Boss was struggling to come up with a conversational opening when you gathered some spare bundles of wires, tucked them into a bag on your shoulder, and left.
He was still trying to manage his disappointment when General Kenobi started the meeting.
Somehow, Boss managed to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. He chalked it up to some quirk of Jango’s genes that allowed him to remember every word with only half of his attention fixed on the proceedings. Delta Squad was a temporary attachment to the 212th. What did they care about setting long-term goals for better intelligence? Intel was intel and all of it was terrible. That was just how it went.
“Sergeant Boss,” General Kenobi called. Boss turned his way, allocating approximately 5% more of his attention to the meeting. “Commander Cody tells me that you recently experienced trouble on a mission due to subpar intelligence. Can you tell us more about what happened and how you handled it?”
Boss fought back a snort. “You’ll have to be more specific, General. Most of the GAR’s intel is subpar, especially for the commando squads. More often than not, accuracy takes lower precedence than timeliness.”
General Kenobi’s gaze sharpened. “What percentage of your information would you estimate is accurate and useful?”
And so it went. Kenobi wasn’t satisfied knowing about Boss’s low opinion of GAR intel - he wanted to know details. It was a special kind of hell for Boss, who wasn’t used to explaining his thought process or how his squad worked to anyone other than General Windu. Even then, the Coruscant debriefing sessions were usually kept as short and vague as they could manage without sacrificing important information.
The meeting devolved further and further until it was little more than CTs asking for stories about commando missions. General Kenobi cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m sure we all have important tasks to which we must return. If the sergeant has time, he can answer your questions. In the meantime, you are all dismissed.”
Despite Boss’s best efforts, he was surrounded by standard troopers, stuck in the room until he had given enough vague answers and sharp reprimands that the crowd dissipated. He allowed himself a moment to silently curse Kenobi’s name before voices at the front of the room attracted his attention.
“Excuse me, but that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”
There was a sigh, and Boss could recognize the sound of it without a moment of hesitation. You were back.
“You aren’t listening to me,” the officer repeated. It was one of the nat-borns - a tall, lanky man drowning in his own self-importance. “I said, that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”
You dropped the cords in your hand, letting them hit the table with a weak slap. “Listen, lieutenant-”
“Captain,” the man corrected, puffing out his chest so you would be sure to see the collection of medals there. Boss was willing to bet that none of them were earned for doing anything that could sully the captain’s perfect uniform.
“Captain, then-” You paused again, letting the silence dangle as you peered at him. “What’s my rank?”
The captain frowned. “You… don’t have a rank.”
“Exactly.” You started gathering the cords again, eyes dropping to your work. It was clear from your posture and the tone of your voice that you weren’t meekly looking away. No, the man had been dismissed, for all that you were still talking to him. “That’s because I’m a contractor.”
“Yes, you are.” The captain frowned harder, like he was trying to see the trap in your statement. Boss started to grin, having already spotted it. “But-”
“If the GAR had to hire an outside contractor to handle their comms, it means that no one else knows how to do the work I do.” You finished rolling the cords into neat bundles and turned your attention to the holoprojector itself. “I’m the expert here. So you can take your opinion on how I do my job and-”
You glanced around the room, eyes meeting Boss’s. He felt electrified by the eye contact, but you turned away just as quickly.
“And keep it to yourself,” you finished.
“You’re a civilian serving on a military vessel,” the captain sputtered. “I am certain you signed an agreement to obey commands given by the officers-”
“My contract says I answer to General Kenobi,” you told him. “Any complaints about my performance go directly to him. He’s on the bridge if you want to report me because you don’t like the way I roll cords.”
And then you turned to retrieve the case for the holoprojectors. It was an end to the conversation, as clearly as if you had left the room entirely. The captain stiffly walked away. Boss wondered for a moment if he really was going to the bridge, but then he put the man out of his head. You were in the same room, and he wasn’t going to waste another chance to speak with you.
“Hey,” he started, walking over to the table where you were working.
…Only to freeze when you fixed him with an evil look. “I’m not in the mood for anyone else to tell me how I’m doing my job wrong, thanks. Since everyone is so concerned, let me explain how it works: I sign out all of the equipment I use, and it is regularly inspected by someone else. If there’s any damage from the way I set up or break down the equipment, it will be found and I’ll be held accountable. Leave me alone.”
Boss was loathe to refuse such a direct request, especially since he could hear the weariness in it, but he was horrified at the idea of leaving you to think he was on the same level as the others who had doubted your ability to do your job.
“Sorry, I just- wanted to tell you how much I respect the way you’ve been handling all of the osik they’re throwing your way.” An expression of bone-deep irritation had crossed your face when Boss started to speak, but it faded as you listened to the rest of his statement.
“Osik is banthashit, right?”
Emboldened by the lack of vitriol, Boss nodded. “Basically. Any idiot with eyes can see that you know how to do your job. They’re just questioning you to make themselves feel better about not being able to do what you do.”
“Among other things,” you agreed dryly. “I already know that’s what they’re doing.”
An uncharacteristic self-doubt swept through Boss and he wondered if he had overstepped. That was eased when you took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing when you let it out. “But thanks. It’s nice to know that someone else sees it, too. Makes me feel less like I’m pushing a speeder uphill.”
“You’re good at your job,” Boss said firmly. “That’s not in doubt by anyone who matters.”
“That’s-” Your comlink interrupted and you let out a frustrated groan when you looked at it. “Sorry, I have to get to another setup on the bridge.”
Boss nodded again, but you didn’t see it. Your practiced motions had picked up in speed, working quickly to pack up the equipment from the meeting and load it onto a small cart. He helped with the last few containers, but the process would have gone just as fast without his help. Maybe faster.
You were almost to the door when you turned back. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Boss,” he told you reflexively.
You grinned at that, and the sight of it made Boss’s heart stutter in his chest. “Great name. I’ll see you around, Boss.”
All things considered, that had gone better than Boss had expected.
From that point, he really did seem to see you more often. You were fixing comms channels, checking on issues with the droids in the mess hall, or working on the data terminals in the main sections of the ship. Every time he saw you, you were too busy for another conversation - even as short as the last one had been - but you always took a moment to smile and greet him by name.
If Boss had been half in love with you when he was watching you verbally eviscerate officers from a distance, he was fully gone now that you actually knew who he was. Any day was a little brighter when you were working nearby, and he found himself looking forward to meetings. There was always a chance that you would be responsible for the setup, especially if the required equipment was tricky or difficult.
The downside was, he suspected, the same as it had always been: that you were given shockingly little respect by the people you helped. Boss had personally witnessed troopers and natties alike complaining about the technology and blaming you specifically. He made a point of dressing them down when he witnessed it, but it seemed to be widespread.
“I can’t believe you found a nattie to moon over in the middle of hyperspace,” Fixer complained. At least, it was framed as a complaint, but Fixer’s tone was as close to camaraderie as Boss had ever heard it.
“You wanna keep your voice down, Fixer?” he asked, purposefully cutting the other man off as they walked into a meeting room. “You know how regs like to talk. The wrong thing overheard by the wrong person leads to-”
“An unhappy Three-Eight,” Fixer finished for him. “I’ll stow it, then. But you might see more of… your person of interest if Kenobi wasn’t obsessed with meetings.”
Boss snorted despite himself. None of the troopers were overly big fans of meetings - Jango’s genes made them men of action rather than words, and they didn’t get much from endless planning - but commandos seemed to have a particular loathing for them.
Of course, it could be that the 212th had simply gotten used to them after working with Kenobi for as long as they had.
Fortunately, this meeting was likely going to be shorter than previous ones had been. Kenobi and Cody were busy with a different meeting, so this would be attended by Delta Squad, a few officers from the 212th, and an ARC who had been attached to the battalion for their upcoming mission.
“What do we need the long-range holos for?” one of the officers asked as Delta Squad walked into the room.
Boss’s heart gave an exaggerated thud in his chest at the mention of equipment you might be responsible for, but it looked like this holoprojector had already been set up.
“The ARC, Aftermath,” another answered, blissfully unaware of Boss’s sudden interest in long-range technology. “He’s finishing another assignment right now, but he’ll meet up with us as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. He requested an early briefing.”
A sergeant who Boss vaguely recognized - his name was Heft, if Boss remembered correctly - was trying to turn on the holoprojector. The first click of the button did nothing and Heft scowled. The second, third, and fourth times didn’t have any more effect, and Heft’s expression grew darker with every failed attempt.
“This karkin’ thing is broken,” he concluded eventually.
The holoprojector looked fine, but Boss couldn’t argue that it didn’t seem to be performing its intended function.
“Maybe we should call the tech specialist,” one of the others suggested.
Heft snarled. “Yeah, call back the ‘specialist’ who couldn’t set it up right the first time. Great idea.”
Keeping a professional expression was a skill every trooper learned from a young age, but Boss suddenly found it more difficult than he had in a long time. The rest of Delta was throwing subtle glances his way, clearly trying to figure out if and how their sergeant would react.
The tricky part was that Boss couldn’t figure that out, either. Heft was a sergeant, too. Since there was no clear chain of command between the two of them, Boss had fewer options on how he could handle things.
After a few moments of internal debate, Boss decided it would be the most helpful if he took charge of the situation. He found your GAR-issued comm channel on the directory easily enough, putting on his helmet so he could make the call in a little peace… especially since Heft was still spewing insults.
You answered the call with your last name. No greeting, not even a first name. Boss blinked stupidly for a moment until he could shake himself. “Hey, it’s Boss. We’re in conference room 37 and the holoprojector isn’t working. Can you give us some ideas on how to fix it?”
“37?” you checked. “For the ARC briefing?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
And the line went dead. Boss pulled off his helmet. “Specialist is on the way. ETA two minutes.”
Heft grumbled while a lieutenant offered to comm Aftermath to let him know about the delay. Boss cleared his throat. “Who will be delivering the briefing to Aftermath? I’d like to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
“Who doesn’t?” Heft demanded, delivering a solid slap to the projector. “If this osik was set up correctly, we’d already be done.”
“Do y’think he realizes what a shabuir he’s being?” Scorch asked, too quietly for anyone outside of Delta Squad to hear.
A single, perfunctory knock sounded through the room and then you were standing in the open doorway. Boss looked at you immediately, offering a subtle smile, but your attention had been captured by Heft. The other sergeant had stridden up to you, looming far too close.
“This is ridiculous,” Heft ranted. “This was supposed to be set up and completed hours ago. Now we’ve had to delay a briefing for an important mission, all so you could get back here to see if you can do your job on the second try.”
Boss bristled, but you were already studying the holoprojector - from across the room because Heft was blocking the way, but your eyes were roving over it determinedly. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. I tested it myself when I set it up. Has anyone messed with the settings since I left?”
“No,” Heft said frostily. “That’s your job.”
“Di’kut,” Sev muttered under his breath.
You eyed Heft, clearly unimpressed. “I can do my job a lot better if I can get a look at the projector. Do you mind letting me past?”
Rather than wait for him to let you through, you stepped around Heft, the edge of your shoulder brushing against his armor as you passed. You took quick stock of the holoprojector, studying it from every angle even as Heft took a breath in preparation for more complaining.
Heft’s face was red with anger and Boss’s fingers worked on his vambrace. Putting his helmet on would be too obvious, but his HUD could record even if it wasn’t currently sealed to the rest of his armor. With the helmet tucked beneath his arm and facing forward, Boss was sure he had a shot of you.
“Maybe I do mind,” Heft bit out. “I want an apology for you wasting our time. We have an ARC trooper in the field who is taking time away from his mission to be debriefed. He has been waiting five minutes past when we were supposed to start and I’m not going to be the one held responsible for that delay! I’m going to Kenobi with this, I can tell you that much.”
Because Boss was watching you so closely, he noticed exactly when your eyes stopped roving over the projector. You straightened, standing calm and proud, a stoic monument against the weight of Heft’s irrational irritation.
You pressed two buttons and the projector flickered on, a holographic image of an ARC trooper appearing in the next instant.
In the quiet of Heft’s sudden speechlessness, you stepped forward and faced the projector. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Aftermath reported immediately.
You gave a satisfied nod and turned back toward the door - and, coincidentally, Heft. “It helps if you turn on the console.”
Boss wouldn’t have blamed you if you had gloated for another ten minutes. Heft would have deserved every second of it. But you left the room, letting the door quietly close behind you.
He wanted to go after you, burned with the need to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t leave the briefing. Not without a good reason. Especially since Heft was starting to brief Aftermath on the upcoming mission.
Fixer tapped his vambrace, then jammed his helmet onto his head. A moment later, he pulled it off, glancing at Boss. “Important call for you, Three-Eight. Needs an immediate response.”
“Understood,” Boss acknowledged with a nod. There were times when Fixer could be the most devious vod… Boss glanced over at Heft, who was watching them curiously. “I assume you have it from here, Sergeant?”
“Of course, Sergeant,” Heft replied, using Boss’s rank just as pointedly as Boss had used Heft’s.
Boss ducked out of the room, spotting your retreating figure immediately. Following you was simple - you clearly weren’t in a hurry, and his brisk strides caught up to your meandering pace with ease.
“Hey-”
You turned to face him with an expression of frustration and disbelief that made him freeze. “It’s working now, I tested visuals and audio myself. What else could you need?”
Boss raised his hands, hating that you had thought he would follow you to continue Heft’s beration. “No, I- Everything is working fine. It always was - Heft is just an idiot. Are you okay?”
You let out a breath, and Boss could hear the hint of a tremble in it. He sent out a silent plea that you weren’t going to start crying. Your eyes were bright enough that he worried he was seeing tears, but he would give anything he owned to be wrong.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you confided, voice sharp. “It’s not enough for me to do my job - I have to constantly reassure everyone that I know what I’m doing. Basic tasks take me triple the time they should because I have to convince people I’m competent, which puts me behind schedule, then everyone else thinks I’m incompetent because I’m late! Everyone warned me that government contractor work was a bad idea, but this is ridiculous.”
To Boss’s utter relief, you didn’t sound sad. Upset, sure, but more angry than sad. The glint he had seen in your eyes was barely-suppressed rage. He could deal with that.
“Then don’t let me make you late to your next job,” he told you.
Your expression froze, taking on a shade of guilt. “Boss, I’m not- I’m just venting. None of this is directed at you-”
“I know that,” Boss reassured you. “But we can walk while you vent. Lead on.”
“I-” You started walking, Boss gamely keeping pace beside you. “I think I might be done, actually.”
“You sure?” Boss didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but you still looked tense. “It’s good for you to bleed off the frustration. Better than keeping it all inside.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “I’m just tired. Seems like everyone has a grudge against me. I’m good at my job and I know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swim against the current.”
Boss gave a sympathetic hum. After a moment in which you didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you want to quit?”
“Yes.” You gave a little laugh, which had the interesting effect of restarting Boss’s heart immediately after it had stopped. “But that doesn’t mean I will.”
“I understand wanting to quit.”
You squinted at him. “Do you? I thought you were, like, engineered to be the perfect soldier. What else would you want to do, if not this?”
“I-” Boss hesitated. “It’s more theoretical than that for me. If I quit, it’s desertion.”
You scoffed, and Boss liked to think it was at the institution of the GAR rather than at his confession. Judging by the warmth in your expression, he was correct.
“Are you going to leave?”
The question came out softer than he had meant it to, leaving the conversation with a sudden feeling of intimacy. You shrugged. “I’ll decide after this mission. We’re in hyperspace - I can’t exactly step off the ship anytime I want. Besides, I’ll get hazard pay when we actually reach the war zone.”
“Lucky.” Boss’s pouting mutter made you laugh again. Wayii! He had just heard it for the first time few minutes before, but he already knew he would do anything to listen to you laugh.
“If it’s any consolation,” he added. “I recorded your conversation with Heft and I’m sending it to Commander Cody. None of the men should speak to anyone the way Heft spoke to you. I couldn’t interfere, or I wouldn’t have gotten a clear recording. I’m sorry for not giving Heft what he deserved. But since he’s a sergeant, too, it’ll be better for it to come from his commanding officer-”
“Boss, Boss,” you interrupted, lifting your hands up when he kept trying to explain. “I understand, and thank you. I don’t expect you to defend me against your brothers, though. That’s not a fair position to put you in.”
“You haven’t asked me to do anything,” Boss rejected. “I’m following up on this because it’s not right for you to be talked down to for doing your job.”
“Be careful, Boss,” you warned. The way your eyes sparkled, he knew it wasn’t a real warning, but he was still intrigued. “If you keep being so nice to me, I’m going to insist on buying you a decent meal when we’re back on Coruscant.”
Boss’s face went hot so quickly he wondered if they had wandered too close to the engine rooms. “You don’t have to do that.”
“And you don’t have to do this,” you told him, gesturing at his helmet. “You’re the only one on this ship who talks to me like I’m an actual person.”
“Sounds lonely.” Boss had experienced his share of dehumanizing experiences, both in the GAR and when they were in civilian surroundings, but he always had his brothers around. Without the rest of Delta Squad at his back, he wasn’t sure how well he would handle that kind of treatment.
“It is,” you agreed. “So I want to thank you. And I… I enjoy spending time with you.”
You looked so sweet, so sincere… Boss was losing himself in your eyes, but he wasn’t about to stop it from happening. “Name the time and place. I’m there.”
Your smile was just as breath-taking as every other time he had seen it. You gestured to the door that led to another set of conference rooms. “I have to go do some work for another long-distance comm this afternoon. But we could meet up later? We can debate about foods and restaurants, narrow down our options.”
“Sounds great,” Boss agreed, finally breaking into a smile of his own. He gestured toward your comlink. “I called you from my frequency earlier. You can always reach me there, just save it to your files.”
That smile turned undeniably to a grin as you ducked into the room. Just before the door closed between you, you winked. “I already did.”
Boss laughed to himself as he walked back toward conference room 37. With any luck, the briefing with Aftermath was already over. If not, at least he had something to look forward to.
---
Author's Note - I'm pretty sure this is my first fic featuring Boss x reader and I'm really happy with how it turned out!
Reminder, this is a gender-neutral reader. But I'm also a woman who works in IT, so all of Heft's complaints were taken almost word-for-word from the stuff people have said to me. (Just in case you wanted some background!)
Thank you for reading and thank you to the anon who gave me this prompt! You can find other works on my masterlist here.
Warnings: fear of heights, descriptions of panic, awkwardness, flirtations both verbal and physical.
---
One of your favorite parts of working with the clone troopers was figuring out everyone’s interests and passions. Some were obvious - Cog liked anything mechanical - while others were well-hidden, like Pierce’s skill for baking.
It had been strange in the beginning, watching men who were known across the galaxy as lethal warriors coo over some small thing that had caught their attention. Now, you found it charming and utterly endearing.
You had been in the hangar for less than two seconds when someone called your name. The commanding tone and friendly pitch told you immediately that it was Captain Fordo, but you still made eye contact and let him beckon you over before you changed your course to approach him.
Fordo was one of the troopers you had been working with the longest. He was an Alpha ARC, one of the first troopers the Kaminoans had ever produced. He was taller and broader than most of his brothers, though you suspected some of that was the way he held himself to keep the kama around his waist from getting in his way. That bearing was one of his most unique traits, a remnant of the training he had received from Jango Fett himself.
And, when you were being truly honest with yourself, he was your favorite of the men. He was certainly the one to whom you were closest - every time you were in the same area as him, Fordo made a point of speaking with you, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.
You had barely gotten into earshot when Fordo started waving something at you. “Have you seen these yet?”
“I can’t even see it now,” you pointed out.
After he rolled his eyes at your comedic squint, Fordo lifted the object up for you. He held it carefully, using his fingertips at the very bottom of it so you could see the entirety of whatever piece of new gear he had managed to pick up.
Because that was his passion. In fact, ‘passion’ might still be putting things lightly. Captain Fordo verged on obsession with the gear that made up his kit. He could always be counted on to find new, obscure things that he thought should be added to the standard gear all troopers carried around. And, since he tested everything himself - on and off the battlefield - he was usually right.
And it wasn’t just weaponry. Tactical gear, survival gear… anything Fordo thought was interesting, he fixated on. He needed to dig in, find out how it worked, how useful it was, whether he could create anything better, and then how it could be incorporated into the current collection of standard gear. He had come up with countless ideas in the past, several of them so clever and helpful that the GAR’s Procurement Department had consulted with him to find the correct materials to purchase.
“Well?” Fordo pressed, one brow arching impatiently. “You can see it now, can’t you?”
You laughed despite the inherent rudeness in his question. He didn’t mean anything by it, it was just how he always was. Fordo was a man of many contrasts. He could be brash and impatient, but he always had time to help a friend or get into the specifics of a piece of gear for someone who didn’t understand how to operate it. He could be flippant, but he also visibly brightened when he saw you. Many people described him as too professional and businesslike, but he always took a moment to show you the newest gadget to have captured his attention.
“I can,” you admitted readily. “But that doesn’t help me much. I have no idea what that is.”
“Let me just demonstrate it for you.”
“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, trying to hide your smile. The brash, flippant, business-like captain was nearly vibrating with excitement as he prepared to show you what the new piece of gear did.
Abruptly, your smile disappeared and you found yourself trying to stifle a gasp instead. Fordo reached out and towed you close as soon as you had agreed to his suggestion. He even wrapped an arm firmly around your waist, holding you against the plastoid of his red-touched armor. There was the noise of a clip and a brief popping sound, but it was nothing more than a backdrop to your raging thoughts.
That simple contact was the first moment you considered that your feelings of favoritism toward Captain Fordo might run a little deeper than pure friendship. The sudden flash of realization made you feel unsteady, like your knees weren’t actually supporting your weight anymore.
And then you looked up.
And then you looked down.
You had noticed that the ceiling of the expansive hangar bay looked closer than it should have as you looked past Fordo’s face, but you still weren’t quite prepared to see the floor so very far below your feet.
The casual, half-startled grip you’d had on Fordo’s shoulders turned much, much tighter as you bit back a squeak of alarm. Past the blood rushing through your ears, you could hear Fordo explaining the new gear to you.
“-about time we developed an ascension cable with the capability to hold two people. It’s gonna make hostage retrieval a lot easier. Or Seppie retrieval. Either way.” Fordo’s shrug made the edges of your vision go white with terror.
The only reason you weren’t screaming was because you were hooked to the cable as well. To be in the hangar bay, all workers had to wear a harness. You had always thought it was a stupid policy, since you weren’t about to climb anything tall, but the way it was supporting your weight as well made you mentally thank whoever had decided on the policy. Of course, if you hadn’t been wearing a harness, Fordo probably wouldn’t have launched you up into the air without more of a warning…
Fordo was oblivious to your fear, glancing curiously around the hangar instead. To be fair, he probably hadn’t seen it from this angle before. You certainly hadn’t, and you would give all of your credits not to be seeing it then. “And the cable itself is longer. Previous versions had a maximum vertical firing distance of seventy-five meters. I just fired this cable at double that distance and there’s still some available to spool- What’s going on?”
“I’m just-” Your explanation broke off in an embarrassing squeak as you rotated slightly. “I don’t- don’t like heights.”
“You didn’t tell me that before I pulled you a hundred meters into the air?” Fordo bit out. The condemnation was sharp, but you knew him too well to be fooled. There was concern behind it. His free hand moved to the small tube that had caused the whole mess, expertly manipulating the buttons.
“If you had told me it was an ascension cable, I would have,” you countered.
Your thoughts were starting to feel a little distant. You had never liked heights, but there was something about this situation that seemed particularly bad. Several things, actually.
These hangar bays were built to hold large ships, and were among the largest free-standing structures in the galaxy in order to accommodate those ships. The demonstration would have been equally bad if you were a dozen feet in the air, but the legitimacy of being scared of such a large drop made you feel extra panicky.
Beyond that, you hadn’t realized how much it would bother you not to see the tail of a rope hanging down below you. That was part of the appeal of ascension cables - nothing for the enemy to grab onto below you. Still, the only thing it meant right then was that you would have no chance of saving yourself if you were to slip.
Finally, a distant but still existent factor was that you didn’t want Fordo to think less of you. He was one of the most competent troopers you had ever met, and you knew part of his tolerance for you was because you did your job well. It hurt to know that your reaction was probably making him think less of you, but the terror raging inside of your chest was too strong to ignore.
A weird pressure came over you, and it took a moment to realize that it was from Fordo tightening his arm around you. “Stay with me.”
“Wh-?” Why was talking so difficult all of a sudden? You struggled to gather your thoughts, then to push them in the vague direction of your mouth. “What do you mean?”
“You look a little…” Fordo trailed off, dark eyes traveling across your face. “Just stay with me.”
Oh. Fordo thought you were going to faint. "I'm fine, I promise. Just scared." You winced at the admission even as you watched Fordo's expression turn to something you couldn't quite place. Scared? That made you sound like a child. "Nervous, I mean."
"Don't worry, little one," Fordo assured you. "I'll get you back down as soon as I can."
Any irritation you may have felt at being called 'little one' was immediately soothed by Fordo's tone. It was almost… gentle. That was strange for him, but appreciated in the present circumstance. Maybe you would just focus on getting through this. You could impress Fordo with your returned abilities when you were back on solid ground.
"Thank you," was the response you settled for. You opted to close your eyes rather than decide between watching the ceiling, watching the floor, or staring at Fordo.
An abrupt lurch made you gasp and you couldn't help your reaction. You reflexively turned, tucking your face against Fordo's chestplate. Plastoid was never the most comfortable material, but it felt like a bit more shelter.
Then you came to your senses and tried to pull away."I'm sorry-"
Fordo's free hand rose to press between your shoulder blades. "Does this help?"
Between his hand wrapped around you and the one keeping you close, Fordo's grip on you did help. There was only one problem:
"How are you holding on?"
Fordo took a moment to answer. When he did, you could hear the smile in his voice. "The ascension cable is attached to my belt."
"And it's sturdy?" you checked. The question was nonsensical, but you couldn't help it. You weren't leaving anything to chance.
"Very," he assured you, his hand gently rubbing your back. "That's what they're designed for. The lift mechanism is too powerful for most humanoids to grip while it's active."
“So the only thing keeping us up here right now is a plastoid belt?”
The shrill question made Fordo pause again, but he was quick to ease your concern. “A belt designed by the GAR to be able to hold myself and any Seppie we might have to retrieve. Including any and every dense-beinged species in the galaxy. Just stay where you are and we’ll be fine.”
You let yourself relax despite the nerve-wracking situation. The slight swaying of the ascension cable was lessening as you got closer to the ground and you couldn’t seem to hear the whir of the mechanism lowering you anymore.
“I have to admit,” you said, begrudging. “I can hardly feel us moving, it’s so smooth.”
This time, the silence before Fordo’s answer stretched uncomfortably long. Almost long enough that you relinquished your place against his chest plate to look up at him. In fact, the only reason you didn’t was because his hand against the back of your head kept you where you were.
“...Fordo?” you asked, uncomfortable with the tense quality of the silence.
“Don’t…” Fordo sighed. “I need you to stay calm for me, okay? We… Well, we’re not moving.”
“Not-?” You tried in vain to pull your head away to look, but Fordo’s grip was firm. “Fordo!”
“I’m sorry, just-” He interrupted himself to bite back whatever he had been about to say. “Just promise me you won’t panic, yeah? This is a delicate situation.”
You didn’t have time to reassure him before his hand lifted away. When you glanced around, you realized that he had been telling the truth. You really weren’t moving any more. And when you looked down, you found that you couldn’t have moved much in the first place. If you were any closer to the ground than when you had started, you couldn’t see the difference.
The ominous creaking of plastoid was the only clue you had that your fingers had started tightening around Fordo’s arm and waist. He didn’t seem concerned about the armor at all, however. No, Fordo’s concern seemed to be for you and you alone. It was apparent on his face, and particularly easy to see in his eyes.
A soft chime rang through the space between you. By the time you recognized it as a wrist comlink, Fordo had already begun raising his arm to his face.
“Captain, you activated your distress signal,” a trooper informed him. “What is it?”
“The dual-carry ascension cable is stuck,” Fordo reported.
Needless to say, the laughter from the other end of the line was not comforting.
Fordo growled something into the comlink, his voice too low and fast for you to catch any individual words. The response came quickly, though you could still hear the amusement in the other trooper’s voice. “Sorry, sir, but Procurement told you it was only a semi-functional prototype.”
“Yeah, then why did they let me take it?” Fordo asked, clearly grumpy. “They had to know I was going to test it.”
“Not with a civvie in tow!”
“Sergeant…” Fordo warned.
Ah, so that was it. Sergeant Chute was Fordo’s second-in-command. He was well-known in the GAR for his careless attitude. Perhaps ‘careless’ was the wrong word. Chute cared intensely about the things that mattered, but everything outside of what it took to stay alive? He simply didn’t have time. Of course Chute would find this situation amusing.
“Sorry, Captain,” Chute said again. After another moment of quiet, he asked, “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Get us unstuck.”
“How?”
Fordo made a low, irritated noise in his throat. “I don’t particularly care how, Chute. Just do it!”
“Okay, let me see what I can figure out.”
The call disconnected and you watched one of the armored figures at ground level walk purposefully away. Without the distraction of eavesdropping on a call, you were left alone with Fordo and the intrusive thoughts of what would happen if the cable stayed stuck… or worse, if it became suddenly unstuck.
Your fingers tightened on Fordo once more. The grip was strong enough that you watched your knuckles pale under the pressure of your own terror. You weren’t entirely sure why you were holding on so tightly - if the cable were to suddenly unsnag and leave you plummeting toward the ground, Fordo would be utterly unable to help you.
“I’m sorry I got you into this.”
The blunt, unprompted apology was a jolt to your internal spiral, pulling you from those thoughts and back into the moment. As much as you didn’t appreciate this particular moment, it was better than being inside of your mind.
“You couldn’t have known,” you assured him. “I don’t really tell people about my fears.”
Fordo shook his head, a wry grin curving his lips. “Not about the heights, but I should have known better than to pull a civilian into testing new gear with me.”
“You didn’t, not really,” you argued, shaken by the implication that Fordo had been callous and careless. “You’ve never treated me like a crash test dummy or anything like that. You just get excited about new gear and you like to show me. And I like that you like to show me. We’re- Well, it makes me feel like we’re… friends.”
“Friends, huh?” Fordo asked, one brow cocked. The satisfied curl of his lips eased something in you, reassuring that he wouldn’t tease you for presuming that your relationship was more than it was in reality. “Yeah, I would say we’re friends.”
You smiled, Fordo’s agreement temporarily pushing back the panic in you. Before you could attempt to articulate your pleasure at hearing that, Fordo’s comlink crackled to life once more.
“Captain, when you’re ready, we’ve come up with a few solutions for you.”
“Finally,” Fordo complained. “What do we have?”
“Easiest first,” Chute told him. “Can you use your jetpack?”
“I don’t have it on me.” His brow creased with something like guilt. “I didn’t want the extra weight.”
“What if we brought it up to you?”
“It’s modified for speed, not carrying capacity. It wouldn’t support both of us.”
You let out an involuntary shudder at the idea. Fordo glanced at you, pulled the comlink away, and said, “Don’t worry, we’re not doing that.”
“Could we bring you an unmodified jetpack instead?” Chute asked.
“We both know the jetpacks aren’t designed for use by multiple people,” Fordo reminded him. “It wouldn’t be able to carry two of us, and I’m not about to sign off on giving a jetpack to a civvie.”
“Suppose not,” Chute agreed. “What if you didn’t go for a sustained jet to the ground? You could feather the engine to slow your drop, then roll when you hit the ground.”
That, somehow, sounded worse than all of the other options. You began to resign yourself to the fact that you were going to live the rest of your life - such as it was - suspended halfway between the floor and ceiling of a hangar bay.
Fordo’s thumb stroked soothingly over your shoulder. “Do you have any plans that don’t center around using a jetpack, Chute?”
“One: We fire a traditional ascension cable beside where you are. You release your cable and climb down that one instead.”
“Interesting…” Fordo said slowly. “How will you account for the distance? Normal ascension cables won’t be able to reach the ceiling.”
“Good point,” Chute admitted. “I think Procurement said they have an ascension cable that’s only been modified to include extension.”
“So it isn’t meant for two people.”
“No.” The sergeant didn’t sound overly concerned about that fact. “But you don’t need it to ascend, do you? You’ll just be using it to climb down. It should be fine.”
“I don’t like ‘should’,” Fordo told him, voice dark.
“Look at it this way, Captain,” Chute said, clearly close to laughing again. “What are the odds that two pieces of equipment will malfunction in one day?”
“I don’t want to think about it.” Fordo sighed, a muscle ticcing in his jaw as he stared at the ground and considered your options. “Okay, get the extended cable.”
“I’ll comm you when everything is set up.”
And then the connection cut. Fordo was still in ‘comforting’ mode, soothing you with, “Sorry about all of this. If I had my helmet, you wouldn’t hear the whole conversation and I could bring you a solution without all of the extra fuss. Just a few more minutes, okay? Then we’ll be back on solid ground.”
“I’m worried about that, too,” you told him. “Fordo, I don’t know if I can lower myself down a rope for that long and not lose my grip.”
He frowned at you. “I’m not having you go down the rope alone. Are you joking? You’re getting harnessed to me and I’ll lower both of us down. I’m not careless enough to let someone with a bad fear of heights climb that far on their own.”
Despite the sass and the rude noise he made at the end of the statement, Fordo’s correction left you feeling… known. He cared enough to consider your feelings and abilities when he was making his plans, even when he was operating in a situation that was stressful and time-sensitive.
“Thank you, Fordo,” you told him, gratitude ringing through your voice. “If there’s ever anything you need from me, tell me. You know, in the name of friendship.”
The handsome captain had started watching you intently halfway through your offer, and - though your addition had made him smile - there was still something serious in his expression. “Since we’re stuck up here for as long as it takes my men to find an extended cable, I’m going to take you up on that right away. Will you answer a question for me?”
“A question,” you repeated nervously. “You can ask me anything any time, you know that. Just don’t make it too tricky. Most of my brain is still busy calculating the odds that I’ll die in the next hour.”
“You’ve always been very open with me,” Fordo agreed. “I just wanted the chance to talk with you when my men aren’t wandering around, trying to overhear.”
That piqued your curiosity, and you found your attention pulling away from the ever-present awareness of where you were. “Ask whatever you like.”
Fordo took a breath. Not a quick one, nor particularly deep, but it was telling. It meant that something about his own question made him nervous. Your interest only grew. “You’re always watching me.”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a question, but then, it didn’t really need to be. You knew what he wanted to know. The only question was how truthful you were going to be in your response.
“Because I admire you,” you told him frankly. Yeah, the phrasing was old-fashioned, but it was just vague enough for you to figure out how to proceed once you’d seen Fordo’s reaction to it.
“I- admire you, too,” Fordo said. “You’re smart, and good at your job, and you always ask the right questions when it comes to the gear. You care.”
“Thanks,” you accepted, feeling an uneasy lump in your throat. It should have been nice to hear that you were admired in return, but there was something hollow in it. The only reason you should want to hear something more is if… well, if you felt something… more…
Oh.
Fordo, oblivious to your internal realization, started to move on. “I think I can see Chute. He should have things set up by now. By my estimate, we’ll be ready in-”
“Wait,” you interrupted. “You got the chance to give reasons that you admire me. I want to do the same. You’re excellent at your job and I can tell you care about the men. You always go a little further than you should to complete the mission and it makes me worry, but you’re very good at analyzing the risks, so no one gets hurt. And your love of gear always makes me happy to see. It’s something you’re passionate about, and it makes me feel good that you want to share that passion with me.”
Fordo was staring at you. He didn’t seem inclined to reply and it was starting to make you nervous. You cleared your throat. “But you were saying? How long do you think until we can switch cables?”
“You worry about me?” he asked instead of answering your questions.
“Of course I worry about you!” You took a breath, attempting to calm down slightly. “You have an incredibly dangerous job and I’m stuck here on Coruscant. I usually don’t know what’s happening with your missions until you get back, unless I hear some of the troopers talking. I worry all of the time. I care about you, Fordo.”
“Captain, we’re getting ready to fire the secondary ascension cable.”
Chute’s interruption should rightfully have been a relief, since it signaled your impending descent from the stuck cable. However, Fordo had seemed to be getting ready to reply to your profession of care for him and you found yourself wishing that Chute had taken a little bit longer to get ready.
Fordo, of course, snapped immediately into Captain mode. “Okay, when they fire the ascension cable, they’ll need to check that it’s secure. After that’s done, I’ll switch your harness connection to me instead of our cable. Then I’ll swing us over, attach my harness to that cable, and lower us down. Any questions?”
“Why don’t we attach our harnesses to that cable instead?” you asked.
“Because the attachments are at the base of the cable,” Fordo explained. “To keep it from immediately snapping closed and hanging uselessly from the ceiling, Chute will keep the other end of it at the floor.”
“And he can’t let go once we’re on the cable?”
Fordo’s patience was apparently limitless, since your nervous line of questioning didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “There’s really no point. You’ll be attached to me, so it’s not like we’re going to fall. The biggest unknown right now is whether the extra ascension cable is going to get stuck or not. Maybe you feel differently, but I don’t particularly trust any GAR equipment right now. Especially since we don’t know whether Procurement has any other backups for us to use.”
“I don’t know if-”
Your nervous protests were interrupted by a whoosh, followed by a dull thump as the ascension cable was fired and soared past you to connect with the ceiling. Fordo watched it, then studied the men on the ground with a critical eye.
“It’s time,” he announced after a few moments, turning his attention to you once more. With a steadying touch on your shoulders, he gave a nod. “Just trust me. I’ll have you safely on the ground in a minute or two.”
As hard as you tried to disguise the nervousness, you could feel the way your brow crumpled with a single glance at the duracrete floor so far below.
Fordo’s fingers tightened, pulling your attention upward. His dark eyes were soothing, as was his low voice. “You can be brave for me. Right?”
You nodded, though it felt jerky, like you weren’t fully in control of the movement. Fordo beamed anyway. “I know you can. Deep breath.”
Before your chest had fully expanded, Fordo had wrapped an arm under yours, muscles flexing while he unclipped your harness from the ascension cable and clipped it to his harness instead.
“Okay, there’s the tricky part, already done,” he told you. “Now, I need you to hang on as tight as you can for the next part. You’re attached to me and I won’t ever be away from a cable, so we’re not going to fall either way. But a sudden shift of weight can make things more of a challenge. Do you think you can hold on to me?”
“You’re lucky if I ever let you go,” you told him. Your voice was audibly shaking, but Fordo grinned anyway.
“Thanks for the incentive,” he teased. “Hold on. Swinging over in three… two… one.”
The whole hangar bay seemed to sway sideways and your breath caught. But when it steadied, it seemed more solid than it had the entire time you were on the ill-fated dual ascension cable. The metallic sound of a clip reached you and then you were slowly making your way downward.
You wanted to speak, to ask how Fordo was doing, but you were terrified to distract him in any way. So you kept silent… until you felt your clammy hands beginning to slip against Fordo’s armor.
The ground was far closer now - not close enough that you could hold on until you had finally reached it, but close enough that you wouldn’t die if you fell. In fact, you may not even break anything. Of course, that was all assuming that the harness didn’t hold, but your faith in GAR kit had taken a beating that day.
“Fordo,” you started. Due to your nerves, it came out in a murmur, but he heard you anyway.
“Almost there, I promise,” he assured you, his voice in a low tone that matched yours. It also made you feel incredibly tingly, especially when he added, “You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.”
The high from that - and the dizzy, stifled fantasies about other situations in which he might say the same thing - almost glued your lips together, but you managed to pry out, “I’m slipping. I don’t want to throw your balance off. Do you need me to unhook myself? I think I can fall from here and be okay…”
You really didn’t want to fall from there. The reluctance was plain in your voice, but you made the offer anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to risk both of you falling, not when you were clear from the worst of the danger.
Fordo’s torso lurched in your grip and you looked up at him, alarmed. That alarm turned first to confusion, then to betrayal. Fordo was laughing.
He glanced down at you, still grinning. “You’re so dramatic.”
Before you could give that the reply it deserved, Fordo stopped your descent, gripping the cable over his head with one hand and using the other to wrap around your side. And then you were biting back a shout. The devastating motion had seemed like you were falling, but it was actually the opposite. You were being pulled upward, further and further until you landed with a thump that left you breathless.
Your new vantage point let you see the way Fordo was gripping the cable between his booted feet, feeding through a bit at a time as you started down once more. It was only when the wolf whistle from the floor reached you that you realized that Fordo had slung you over his shoulder.
Even worse, he kept only one hand on the rope. The other was holding the back of your leg, keeping it pinned to his chestplate. You were grateful that his grip kept you from slipping off of his shoulder entirely, but you wished his fingers weren’t quite so close to the top of your thigh.
“Are you serious right now?” you demanded, trying to reposition yourself so that your butt wasn’t sticking quite so dramatically upward.
“Watch it, civvie. You almost gave me a knee to the face.” You immediately stilled, though Fordo didn’t seem overly concerned about the possibility of injury. “Would you rather fall?”
“I thought I would rather do anything than fall,” you muttered. “This is making me rethink the possibilities.”
Fordo had a nice laugh, even if it was at your expense. At the very least, it gave you something else to focus on instead of the troopers on the ground. They seemed highly amused by the way Fordo was transporting you and were happy to shout out additional suggestions that ranged from bad to worse. The only saving grace was that the rest of the trip was swift.
“Shut up, all of you,” Fordo grumbled as his booted feet touched the ground.
Chute was grinning, you could see it from the gap between Fordo’s chest and arm. “Congratulations on a successful rescue, Captain. You two looked pretty cozy up there, and even more so on the way down.”
“Shouldn’t you be doing something else right now, Sergeant?” Fordo asked sharply.
“I don’t have anywhere to be until fourteen-thirty,” Chute told him, sounding extremely smug about it.
“Good.” Fordo snatched the handle of the ascension cable from him, pressing a single button and letting the small cylinder soar up until it hit the ceiling with a barely audible thunk. “Then you and the men can work on getting those cables unhooked, respooled, and returned to Procurement.”
Chute wasn’t smiling when Fordo walked away.
“Can I get down now?” you asked. You were starting to get a little dizzy from the angle of your head, but that wasn’t the full cause of your lightheadedness. If only Fordo would stop stroking his thumb against your skin!
“Of course, just let me get a little further away from those idiots.”
True to his word, Fordo carried you just a little further toward one side of the hangar bay. You could still watch the troopers attempt to figure out the ascension cable conundrum - and did watch, with glee - but you were mostly out of earshot.
Fordo took a gentle hold of your hips and let you slide down from his shoulder. It was a slow process, since he was clearly taking pains not to frighten you or make you feel like you would fall. Unfortunately, the major effect was that his fingertips dragged over you as you moved further and further down. Nothing inappropriate, of course, but you still felt flustered.
When you were finally on solid ground once more, you gave Fordo a nod and a half smile. “Thank you, Fordo. I’m glad that worked out as well as it did.”
“Hold on, little one,” Fordo commanded, apparently having sensed that you were going to rush off. “We’re still connected.”
You watched in sheepish interest as he unhooked your harness from his own, Fordo’s strong hands working the clasps in a way that encouraged your intense study.
“And before you disappear, we should go to the mess.”
That made you blink. “The mess?”
“You’re probably feeling a bit of adrenaline from that, aren’t you?” Lying wasn’t an option, not when Fordo was already giving you a skeptical look. When you nodded, Fordo echoed the motion. “Yeah, I figured. When it starts to leave your system, you’re gonna feel terrible. It’s better if you have something to eat and drink. Let’s go.”
When he put it that way, it made sense. And, you had to admit, you were feeling a little hungry. “Okay.”
Fordo held the door for you, following as soon as you had stepped through.
“Remind me while we’re eating and I’ll give you my comlink frequency.”
Your head snapped over toward him so quickly that your neck protested. “Why, exactly?”
Fordo watched you evenly, a hint of a grin on his face. “Well, now that I know you worry about me, I want to make sure you can reach me any time you need to.”
“And if you’re in a war zone?” you asked. To your surprise, your voice sounded normal, even when it was coming from a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. What exactly was Fordo trying to do?
“I won’t answer,” he said with a shrug. “But any other time, I’ll pick up and put your nerves at ease. And… you know, even if I’m on-planet, I’ll pick up. I never mind making time for one of my favorite people.”
Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest as you gave Fordo a sidelong glance. He was doing the same thing, both of you trying and utterly failing to be subtle.
Before the moment could turn awkward, you grinned at him. “You’re going to regret that, Captain. I get very worried…”
Fordo beamed at the way you had bumped him with your shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”
---
Author's Note - This was my first time writing Fordo and I had a bit of trouble with him! Sorry if he's OOC, but I had fun. He just strikes me as being really sincere, even when he's teasing!
I discontinued my taglist, but you can read my writing on @wanderinginksplot-writes or find my masterlist here!
