Warnings: Anger, fear, workplace fallout, internal investigations, suspicion, mandatory leave, poor treatment from superiors, and privacy violations
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Part Eleven
The comlink rang and you let it. The only answer you gave was a glare.
The time since the apparent break-in at Senator Julgum's office had been absolute hell. Members of the Coruscant Guard had launched an investigation, led by a captain who had introduced himself as Maze.
You hadn't been important enough to know any details, but it was clear that the trooper who came to drop off the package for Julgum hadn't been who he claimed to be. You had overheard that the real Coruscant Guardsman named Chase had been across the city on the day of the visit. Whoever had come to the office, they had been lying about their identity.
That would have been bad at any other time. An unknown person having access to the Senate building? Not good. But in a galaxy at war? The break-in was devastating.
You hadn't been ignorant of the situation. As soon as you had translated that note, you had known that there something was wrong. The words on the flimsi could only be referencing your mysterious comm caller.
In retrospect, that was information you should have volunteered to Captain Maze. You had known it at the time, but you had lost all inclination to be helpful when Julgum had started shouting over his holoprojector. Apparently, the visit was considered a security breach, and according to the senator, it was your fault that the mysterious person had gotten access to the waiting area.
And when security cam footage had shown that he had sliced into the senator's office? Well, you certainly hadn't expected to have a job when you came back from a week's mandatory leave. It was been paid leave, thankfully, or the"trauma recovery" it had been billed as would be more traumatic than the actual trauma.
Even now that you had returned to the office, you were officially on probation. It probably wouldn’t end with you losing your job, especially since Julgum was so unpopular that finding a replacement would be tricky, but it still wasn’t fun. The whole experience had demonstrated exactly how bad this job actually was. At this point, you had started looking around for lawyers who could help you get out of your contract.
The comlink chimed again and you pressed the button to mute it.
Even if you wanted to stay at this job, it would be difficult. You hadn’t told anyone about your previous encounters with the intruder, and you had hidden the note before alerting the Senatorial security to the breach. In the frantic spiral of fear, you hadn’t wanted to be blamed for the attack.
And now that you had deliberately refused to give any of that information, a sudden revelation would be as good as guilt in the eyes of the investigators.
You needed to leave before anyone could put together the pieces. The call logs from Julgum’s office were recorded, but the comm frequencies were scrambled to protect caller anonymity. That was why you could never recognize the mystery caller before you answered. The only way you would get caught was if someone heard you speaking with the intruder.
Or if they watched the security holos long enough to watch you tuck away the piece of flimsi in a drawer before you called. But the night of the break-in, you had painstakingly cut another flimsi to the same size and did your best imitation of the intruder’s writing. The address you listed was a nonsensical one, leading to an eightieth-level restaurant locally know for the excellence of its kebabs.
No one had asked about the flimsi yet, so you had to guess that no one had watched enough of the security holo to see it. Or you truly weren't under suspicion and they were more worried about what the intruder had done before and after leaving Julgum's office. Honestly, Julgum seemed to be the only party interested in blaming you. The Senate employment departments had subtly let you know that your week of leave had only been pushed through because Julgum insisted on it.
Maybe you didn't have to leave, but you certainly wanted to. You had only been back for a few days and Julgum's attitude had already been markedly worse. He had never been pleasant, but so far, he had taken his own low bar and started to dig. You had started a list of the insults somewhere around your second morning back, just for sheer amusement, but it had quickly grown into something you hoped to use to get out of your contract.
A comlink ringing made you frown ferociously at the receiver on your desk. You had muted it, why was it still ringing?
But it wasn't. Well, it was - there was a blinking light that told you that it was - but the noise wasn't coming from the receiver. Instead, it was coming from the personal comlink on your wrist.
Cold fear seized your stomach. Had you ignored calls only to ignore someone calling for you specifically? Was there some kind of emergency? Was someone you loved in trouble?
"Hello?"
"Don't hang up."
Your eyes narrowed, thumb moving reflexively to the button that would end the call. "How did you get this frequency?"
"You introduced yourself to me," your caller reminded you, unnecessarily. "Wasn't hard to track you down."
A dozen curses and threats danced behind your clenched teeth. You weren't holding them back from some misplaced sense of propriety, but because you refused to let him know how badly he had pissed you off.
"Why."
The pause told you that something of your temper had come through - maybe the single-word answer or maybe the flatness of its delivery. Either way, the stranger's answer came slowly.
"I was worried."
"Not a reason to stalk someone."
"No?" he challenged. "You haven't been at Julgum's office. There was someone else answering his comms for a week. No one has answered them at all in days. I was starting to think something had happened to you."
"Something did happen to me," you all but snarled. "Someone snuck into the Senate under false pretenses and broke into Julgum's office. I'm the only one they spoke to and I didn't catch that something was wrong. So all the blame lands on me."
It was a touch dramatic, but you were frustrated beyond belief. This stranger had no way of knowing that his stunt hadn't destroyed your entire career, nor did he especially seem to care.
"There is no blame." The logical air of his voice scraped against every nerve you had. "You never saw me, but it isn't protocol to make clones remove their helmets inside a building. You told me that the Senate scrambles comm frequencies, so you had no information to give them about me. I'm very good at covering my tracks."
An edge of satisfaction crept into his voice toward the end as you stared in disbelief at the comlink. Your mouth opened and closed a few times without input from your brain before you ended the transmission and blocked the frequency.
You felt better immediately, but you still spent the rest of your shift aggressively reorganizing your desk and refusing to answer a single comm.
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Author's Note - I'm sorry again, guys! I'm not sure why I have such a hard time remembering this fic exists! If it's any real excuse, I've been doing some heavy rewrites on the next two chapters and I think that's why I forgot to post last month. I'm usually not this much of a mess!
Now, I need some honest opinions about story structure: do the shorter chapters drive you crazy? Normally, I aim for 5,000 words per chapter (easily 4x what these average), but all of their little conversations seem to wrap up in roughly a thousand words, so that's how I've been dividing the chapters. Still, I want to make sure you guys don't think they're a waste of time since they're so short, especially with at least a month's wait between each one.
Thank you for reading, thank you for your patience, and I'll see you soon with another chapter!
hey! since i’ve been here i’ve graduated and now have a bunch of time on my hands, but also a bunch of new fixations lmao
BUT
my other fics are not abandoned, just in stand by until i am no longer in the throes of passion with the show im watching!
speaking of: new fic(s) may be coming out that’s psych related (shawn spencer x reader type shit!) considering i’ve writting about 3k of just dialogue for it so far
Warnings: References to police assault, cops being assholes in any galaxy, grief, mourning, depression, mentions of mobility aids, discussions of funerals
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Nu Kyr'adyc, Shi Taab'echaaj'la (Not Gone, Merely Marching Far Away)
You were cold.
It was the only thing bringing you back to wakefulness. There was something waiting for you in the waking world, something you didn't want to face just yet. It would be so easy to stay asleep, but the chill was biting your arms and legs, marching up and down your limbs in an icy tide. Probably the aftereffects of the electric prod you had been hit with.
You were fully conscious and on your feet before another thought could drift through your mind.
Alpha. What had happened to Alpha?
Your legs went out from under you and you staggered, catching yourself on the bars nearby. Your ribs ached like you'd been kicked by a bantha and your head was swimming. Small scrapes and bruises radiated from one side of your body, the remnants of where you had fallen on the duracrete ground outside of the spaceport. But none of that mattered. You had to find Alpha.
The room was dark and you blinked, trying to orient yourself. A face appeared on the other side of the bars, inches from your fingers. You shrieked.
"It's me, neverd'ika," Alpha said quietly, and you finally recognized him.
Even in the gloom of the cells you were in, you could see that one side of his face was injured. Blood oozed sluggishly from several scrapes and cuts, partially clotting in the layer of grime on his skin. Below that, you could see the bruises that were blooming.
"Oh, Alpha," you said, reaching through the bars to touch his face as gently as you could manage. "Your poor face... But your cybernetics! Are you hurt? Can you move?"
"I'm fine. As far as I can tell, anyway. They got me with a modified prod - no permanent damage even for delicate life-forms. And they stunned you, not me." Alpha shook his head irritatedly. "But no one will talk to me. I don't know why they thought I was going AWOL or when they're going to let us out of here."
"I don't think that's the main concern-"
"What else would we be concerned about?" Alpha's brows were furrowed, mouth drawn into a grim line. "Every minute we spend here is another minute Fives is out there alone. And another minute the Coruscant karkin' Guard could be doing something stupid."
"Alpha, you need to think," you urged. "The shock troopers just happened to look for you outside the spaceport with a low-current prod? No one really thought you were going AWOL. No one outside of Ransom, Nora Czajak, and Nala Se even knows you're on Coruscant. Stars, only Ransom knew that you were on-planet and not in the GAR medcenter tonight."
Alpha blinked at you, his irritation taking on a shade of confusion. "You… think someone set us up. Who?"
"I don't have any idea," you admitted. "Like I said, not many people know you're here and even fewer know that you've recovered enough to look for Fives. Rex didn't even tell the Jedi that you were helping with the search."
Alpha's frown deepened. "Then there are only two options. Either we were being watched tonight or someone high up in the GAR wants this thing kept quiet."
"Or both," you suggested quietly. Alpha nodded once, acknowledging your point. "Something strange is happening."
"And it's an osik sign that we're being detained here," Alpha agreed. "We need to get back out there if we have any chance of figuring out what's going on."
He began systematically testing all of the bars in his cell. Even at his weakest, Alpha was far stronger than you, so you left him to it. Instead, you turned to survey your own cell.
It was an exact mirror of Alpha's and had clearly been built to house a handful of people. There was a cot on one side of the room, slightly askew from when you had leapt up off of it. A small refresher sat in the corner, surrounded by transparisteel that turned opaque when the door was locked (at least, you hoped it did). There were cutouts slightly lower than waist height in the walls, and the indentations formed rough benches that couldn't be ripped off for use as a tool or weapon.
Other than the cot and refresher, the cell was nearly bare. It was difficult to see clearly in the dim light that filled the detainment area of the Coruscant Guard headquarters, but Alpha didn't seem to have any additional tools in his cell.
Though there were other cells set to the other sides of Alpha's cell and your own, everything was empty. In fact, this whole section of the building seemed disconcertingly quiet. There hadn't been another person walking around since you had woken up.
You weren't sure how you and Alpha had ended up as the only occupants of the area, but it seemed too perfect to blame on coincidence. Something was definitely going on.
"Anything?" Alpha called, pulling your attention back toward his cell.
"Nothing," you reported. "Did you find anything?"
"No." Alpha scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as his fingertips pulled at the injuries they found there. He went to the front of the cell, the only place where it faced the hallway. The bars were made redundant by a ray shield that stretched the entire length of the hall, preventing prisoners from reaching out or throwing anything between the bars.
Alpha approached the front of the cell anyway, glancing either way down the hall outside and grunting in displeasure when he didn't see anyone.
"Hey!" he shouted, loud enough to make you wince. "This is Captain Alpha-17. I demand to know why I'm being held here."
"Detainees can't make demands," a trooper jeered, appearing from around a corner where he had apparently been sitting, unseen. Any doubts you had about the security of the cells were allayed by the sight of the trooper's bare face. If he had removed his helmet, the trooper was absolutely certain that there was no escape.
"They can when they outrank you in the kriffing GAR, you ori'buyce, kih'kovid di'kut," Alpha replied, voice dripping with derision. The trooper walked down the hall to stand in front of Alpha, tauntingly close. Alpha's top lip curled in a sneer as he ordered, "Get me Fox or Maze."
"They're both busy at the moment." A nasty smile spread across the trooper's face. "And as for outranking me… Guess we'll have to see. From what I've heard, you may not have a rank at all anymore. Think they'll let you pretend to train a few ARCs before they send you for reconditioning? Or maybe they don't want a broken trooper put back into the pool of GAR soldiers."
You were at the bars closest to him before you could stop yourself. Over the roaring in your ears, you heard yourself say, "Ne shab'rud'ni, hut'uun."
The trooper blinked. You were sure which threw him off more - the implied violence in your threat, the grievous insult of being called a coward, or the fact that it all had been delivered in the best Mando'a you had ever managed.
He recovered a moment later, looking you up and down with an unimpressed expression. "We don't let a guurori ganar aruetii speak here. Do it again and I'll keep you stunned until we decide what to do with you."
The words were unfamiliar, though you knew 'auretii' meant traitor. You could guess that the rest wasn't flattering, either. Especially since Alpha's face went pale, then darkened in rapid succession.
Alpha wrapped his hands around the bars and squeezed until his knuckles went pale. His hands were close enough to the ray shield that it started to react, turning white and throwing off the occasional spark.
The trooper's gaze fell to Alpha's hands and he smirked. "Get your hands off the bars or I'll show you why we set them up for electrification. Didn't go well for you the first time, did it?"
Alpha snarled something that sounded uncomplimentary. The trooper - having already started back toward his post hidden around the corner - turned back to say something else, but his face went abruptly serious and he straightened into a salute. "Sir."
You turned to see what he was looking at and found a procession of fully-armored Coruscant Guardsmen filing toward you. At the head of the group was Commander Fox. You almost didn't recognize him - both because he wasn't wearing his distinctive helmet and because he looked so bad.
Fox's brown eyes were wide and held the hollowness most often associated with those who were suffering severe shock. His lips were parted, breaths coming too quickly for comfort. He walked as though he wasn't truly seeing the hallway in front of him. Fox didn't even acknowledge the still-saluting trooper as he passed by.
"Fox," Alpha called sharply. "Fox, what happened?"
Fox didn't react in the slightest. The troopers walking behind him offered sympathetic looks and shrugs in you and Alpha's direction, but followed the precedent set by their commander and stayed silent.
They had passed and the trooper assigned to guard the cells had returned to his post out of sight when another trooper came in the same direction.
Alpha thrust a hand against the ray shield, throwing sparks and startling both you and the new arrival with the suddenness of it. "Stone, I need to know what's going on and I need to know now."
Stone - a commander, if you remembered correctly - blinked at Alpha in surprise. "Alpha, what are you doing down here?"
"I don't know," Alpha growled. "I was at the spaceport when a bunch of Corries showed up, accused me of going AWOL, and dragged me back here."
"AWOL?" Stone furrowed his brows. "Well, I know you weren't, but… why were you at the spaceport? You have to admit that it looks suspicious."
"I was looking for one of my ARCs." Alpha gripped the bars tighter once more. "He's been drugged and is wandering around Triple Zero with no one to watch his back. I need to find him before he gets off-planet without an antidote."
"CT-5555."
"Ye-" Alpha cut himself off abruptly. His gaze zeroed in on Stone with a precision that would have sent a lesser man running. "You know something."
Stone shook his head slowly - not in dissent, but resignation. "We found him on the lower levels. He had trapped his general and captain in a ray shield. There was concern that he was planning to hurt them."
"Fives would never do that," you interrupted, your mind's eye summoning images of Fives laughing with Echo or grinning mischievously as he made a joke about something embarrassing.
"CT-555-"
"Fives," Alpha corrected, voice tight.
"Fives," Stone amended. "He was unwell. Erratic. Kept repeating the same things over and over, things that made no sense. The Kaminoan senator said there was some virus that had affected another 501st trooper badly enough that he shot a Jedi in the field. CT-5- uh, Fives might have been exposed. There was no telling what kind of damage friendly fire could have done."
"It wasn't a virus," you countered, too softly to be heard over Alpha.
"What did you do?" he demanded, squeezing the bars so tightly that they creaked under the pressure of his fists. "What did you do?"
Stone shook his head again and your heart stuttered at the guilt on his face. "The commanding officers said that Fives was a threat. We had to stop him before he hurt anyone. The… the threat has been neutralized."
You stared blankly at Stone, waiting for more of the explanation. 'Neutralized' wasn't 'dead'. He couldn't be saying that Fives was dead, not in such an even, unaffected tone. Surely Fives had been captured, taken somewhere for treatment and eventual investigation. Stone had to be saying that. You refused to believe anything else.
But Alpha's reaction told you that wasn't the case. He bowed his head until his forehead was pressed against the bars between his fists. His face - what little you could see of it in profile - had crumpled in profound grief and he wept for the vod he had trained so carefully.
Stone didn't seem to know how to react. He watched Alpha for a moment, an expression of mingled sadness, guilt, and hesitation on his face. His hand lifted as though he had planned to rest it on Alpha's shoulder, but thought better of it when he remembered the ray shield. Instead, he murmured something to Alpha, gave you a hunted sort of look, and continued down the hallway in the direction Fox and the others had gone.
You were also crying when you attempted to convince Alpha to leave the front bars of the cell. Eventually, you coaxed him over to the 'wall' that your cells shared. He was mourning Fives as much as you were, maybe more. It hurt all the more because you had been so close. You could have saved him. You very nearly had.
All you could do was cradle Alpha through the bars of your cell.
You and Alpha were released later that day. The Coruscant Guard apologized for detaining you, but the bigger surprise was the apology from the Galactic Senate.
The Senate had received the initial report of the incident. They claimed someone had reported Alpha potentially going AWOL and had acted on that limited information. You thought the explanation was insulting to your intelligence, but when you glanced over at Alpha, his hollow expression showed that he wasn't paying attention to anything at the moment.
You and Alpha were informed that you would receive two extra days on Coruscant. The remainder of that day was your own, to "rest and recover from the ordeal of the morning". The next day, Alpha would go get his cybernetics checked.
Ransom had agreed to the schedule change immediately when you commed her. You had explained the basics of the situation to her so she knew what to expect. She promised that she would give Alpha's cybernetics an extra-thorough exam, but told you that he was likely fine as long as he was still able to walk with or without his crutches.
Alpha could still walk, leaning heavily on his forearm crutches. He would also speak and nod vacantly when someone addressed him, but he didn't do anything without prompting. Without the need to act, he simply… was. Alpha hadn't spoken since his breakdown about Fives's death. He had taken it just as poorly as you had expected he would, and no amount of comfort made it better.
In fact, the last time you had seen him so upset was when he had learned of Echo's death.
As long as you had known him, Alpha had only lost two ARCs. He had mourned both like the brothers he referred to them as. It was somehow worse that Fives and Echo had been part of the same battalion and had gone through training at the same time. Stars, if you remembered correctly, they had literally grown up together.
For the rest of the day, it was all you could do to convince Alpha to eat something and get a little sleep. Even then, he had been sleeping fitfully when you dozed off and was awake again by the time you woke up. You had been asleep for less than an hour.
After a painfully quiet dinner and some halfhearted attempts at starting a conversation - none of which were answered by him - you coaxed Alpha into bed. You woke up several times during the night, either because of his restless repositioning or, once, because he had started to weep. Each time, you held him as tightly as you could, often crying yourself.
When dawn broke, it was gray and cold and almost unnoticeable behind the neon signs that flooded the surface of Coruscant. You were awake for the slow leaching of light into the sky. Judging from his breathing, Alpha wasn't sleeping, either.
Still, the two of you laid side by side in the sterile quiet of the hotel room. You took comfort from Alpha's warmth beside you; you could only hope that he was equally as comforted by your presence.
Minutes slipped past like that, until you knew it was time to get up. Reluctantly, you broke the silence. "Alpha, we need to get ready for your appointment. Ransom gave us her earliest time slot so we have the rest of the day to get ready for the trip."
Alpha had already known all of that, of course. You had told him the day before when you made those arrangements with Ransom. But he hadn't seemed to hear you then and he didn't seem to hear you now. His features were hollow with grief even as he got to his feet, gathered his clothing, and started toward the refresher.
You took a hovercab to Ransom's office. Alpha didn't speak, but he typed out a message on his comlink. You didn't recognize the frequency when you caught sight of it, but you didn't read the message. Alpha was entitled to his privacy. He would tell you if it were important.
You were several minutes early, but Ransom was already waiting when you arrived at her office. She hadn't heard much about what happened - it had been too fresh for you to discuss openly the day before, and Ransom wasn't informed about the intricacies of GAR politics - but she knew enough that she didn't offer a smile. Instead, she gave a solemn nod and ushered you into the physical therapy area.
Ransom made the examination as quick and painless as possible. She scanned Alpha's implants, then checked them with gentle hands and specialized instruments. Everything must have been in order, because she gave a satisfied nod and instructed him to walk back and forth across the physical therapy area. There were no bars for him to support himself with, but he walked with confidence.
When Alpha got back to you and Ransom, she smiled. "Your recovery is coming along nicely, Alpha. Your implants weren't damaged in… by the stress of the other night. The two of you are going back to Kamino tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes," you answered so Alpha didn't have to. "We leave tomorrow morning."
Ransom nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think you'll need to do any additional physical therapy off-planet. Rest on your trip and make sure to stretch, but you can try navigating around the transport without your crutches."
That made Alpha look at her questioningly, the first real emotion you had seen on his face since you had left the hotel room.
"Only when you're in hyperspace," Ransom clarified. "And only when you feel you can support yourself well enough not to fall if the transport hits turbulence."
"What do you hope he'll gain?" you asked, stepping forward and trying not to look too overeager. "Could he walk without assistance someday?"
Ransom shrugged. "Potentially. At the very least, I believe he'll be able to stand unassisted and walk short distances. Maybe do some training if recovery goes extremely well."
"Potentially and maybe." Alpha's scowl was fierce. "Not much to plan a life on. Who's to say the kaminii don't send me for reconditioning as soon as I get back on-planet?"
"Me," you said firmly. "I'm saying that. I haven't been sitting around waiting for you to be fully healed, Alpha. I've been making sure the Kaminoans know that you'll return as a qualified ARC trainer, with or without a mobility aid."
"A trainer can't use mobility aids."
The snort you gave was loud and skeptical, bordering on rude. "You're the best trainer in the galaxy, Alpha. The GAR trusts you to teach their most elite soldiers how to think critically and adapt fighting styles to fit their strengths and needs. You'll figure out a way to work with whatever mobility aid you may end up using and you'll be able to teach your trainers from experience that they can overcome any obstacles they run into."
The warmth in Alpha's expression was subtle, but clear. "It's a good point. Thank you for reminding me, little one."
Ransom cleared her throat lightly, and you remembered that the two of you had an audience. "And as for daily life, I designed your cybernetics to work with your activity levels. You may need crutches for now, but you'll likely transition to using a cane when your body has finished healing."
"A cane would be convenient," you encouraged.
"More than you know," Ransom agreed. "Cybernetics are designed and implanted in ways that work with and are powered by the body, but they're ultimately mechanical and electrical. With a cane that can release trace amounts of power, your cybernetics can stay running at full strength with minimal energy draw from your muscles."
"What does that mean?" Alpha asked slowly.
Ransom grinned. "It means, when someone relying on muscle alone gets tired, they have to rest. They can push through, but doing so takes a toll on their body. When you get tired, you use your cane for a few minutes - or even just hold it - and you'll be able to keep doing what you need to do. Not indefinitely, of course, but I'd guess your stamina will be better than it ever was before the cybernetics."
Alpha eyed her closely. "What are the specs?"
"With a cane that's calibrated for your cybernetics, you'll be able to get an additional 11 to 12 hours from 30 minutes of using your cane." Ransom paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Dependent on how demanding your activity levels are in that time, of course. That estimate is if you were doing something highly physical, like training, fighting, doing manual labor… If you have downtime, the estimate would be significantly higher."
"Are you saying that Alpha needs to use the cane every day or his cybernetics will die?" Your voice was tight. You didn't necessarily envision that Alpha would go without a mobility device for that long, but you wanted to know exactly what you could expect when you got back to Kamino.
"Almost the opposite," she assured you. "The cybernetics in Alpha's nervous system stimulate his muscles with electrical impulses. Since the implants don't really on his body's power to fuel themselves, they can stimulate his muscles even after he's exhausted."
"So I can run off the cybernetics alone," Alpha summarized.
"For a limited amount of time, basically." Ransom pulled out a datapad with the specs of Alpha's cybernetics pulled up. She indicated the major clusters of implants: along his spine, running down both sides of his thighs, and on the outside of his calves just below his knees. "These all charge when Alpha holds physical contact with the cane. Like I said, 30 minutes would be plenty to charge them up for as long as you needed them, as long as you have the right cane."
"Where do I get 'the right' cane?" Alpha asked.
Ransom stepped away for a moment, rummaging through a tall cabinet in the corner. When she came back, she held a thick piece of what looked to be durasteel, studded with glowing panels along its length.
"This is the right cane." She held it out to Alpha, who made no move to take it.
He narrowed his eyes up at her instead. "How much?"
"It's taken care of," Ransom said breezily.
"We can't let you do that," you protested, watching Alpha take the cane. His expression took on a sense of interest and determination, and you knew you had to get the cane for him no matter what. "I'm sure it's expensive…"
"Oh, it was," Ransom agreed with a mischievous smirk. "But when a senator offers to pay the costs, you go all-out. I doubt he even noticed it on the bill I sent."
"And when this one breaks?" Alpha didn't even look up from the cane, busy weighing it in his hands and studying it from every angle.
"I built a few replacements into Organa's bill." Ransom caught the look you were sending in her direction and sighed. "If he notices and objects to the addition, I'll let you know. You can cover the replacements or the current cane, depending on what exactly he objects to. Better?"
"Much." You highly doubted that Organa would have a problem with providing Alpha a cane, but you didn't like leaving anything up to chance. Both of you had been burned too many times by the GAR and the Republic for any other response.
"Alpha," Ransom announced, holding out a hand. When Alpha took it, she gave a firm handshake. "It has been a pleasure. I'll send you a fully updated schematic of your cybernetics in case you need help with them in the future and can't return to Coruscant for any reason. Please contact me with any additional questions or concerns if possible - I have better insight about your implants than some backwater cyberdoc."
Ransom turned to you next, also offering you a handshake. "Keep him from pushing himself too far, especially for the next week or so. I know you'll be on a transport, but there's still a risk. Maybe keep the cane somewhere safe until he can heal a little more. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
You nodded, feeling unexpectedly emotional at the idea of saying goodbye to the enigmatic cybernetics specialist. "Thank you, Ransom. For everything."
When you and Alpha left Ransom's office and were waiting for a hovercab, he typed furiously into his wrist comm again.
"You've been contacting a lot of people today," you commented, tone neutral. "Anything I should know about?"
Alpha paused, glancing up at you with eyes too raw, too open, too full of pain. It had been little more than a day since you had gotten the news about Fives. You were compartmentalizing, tucking away the grief until you were safe to feel it all. Alpha was grieving now, the loss too close and sudden to delay until later.
"I'm trying to get Fives's body."
"There are no cemeteries on Coruscant," you said reflexively, feeling idiotic the moment your brain caught up with your mouth. You winced when the awareness of what you'd said hit you. "Sorry."
"We don't usually get to care for our dead," Alpha said slowly. He seemed to be thinking aloud as he spoke. "I'm not really sure what to do with him if we get him. I think the old Mandos used to say cremation was a warrior's preferred method."
"I think the Jedi do something similar."
Alpha glanced at you sharply and you waited for him to say something harsh… or at least sarcastic. Instead, he nodded. "Good. Then they have facilities that can handle the process."
"I don't know if they'll let you cremate a body in the Jedi Temple," you cautioned, moving back to allow the hovercab plenty of space to land. "Especially not if the GAR doesn't want to give Fives up."
Alpha shrugged, opening the door and ushering you inside. "Can't be that hard to break in. There are only a few of those Temple Guards on duty at a time. It's sloppy. Leaves security gaps."
When you got back to the hotel room, you started packing up your things. You hadn't brought much from Kamino, having been fully focused on getting to Alpha, but you had bought enough clothes and toiletries to survive on Coruscant for the length of his treatment. You also packed up the civvie clothes and toiletries you had bought for Alpha. During his time at the GAR medcenter, he had been provided with a body glove and a PT outfit, but you had wanted him to have more comfortable clothes for sleeping. The first time he had been able to get dressed by himself after the accident still ranked high on the list of times in your life you had been the happiest.
You left out pajamas for both of you, along with travel clothes. This would be your last night on Coruscant and you wanted to be ready to make the transport tomorrow morning. If your pilots noticed Alpha's civvie clothing, you were sure they would just shrug it off as a soft-hearted civilian working too hard to make a battle-hardened soldier comfortable.
"Just thinking too hard, I suppose." You pulled your mind away from the ridiculous series of thoughts. "Any news?"
Alpha shook his head. "No one knows anything about where the GAR might have put Fives. Even Maze doesn't know, and he's high up with the Corries."
"Was he… there?"
"No." He snorted. "They pulled Maze away for some osik admin work. Time-consuming and no one will ever look at it again, but it kept him busy. I have to wonder if they did that on purpose."
Giving Alpha an excuse to suspect a grand, overarching conspiracy on behalf of the GAR hadn't been your intention, but you couldn't say that you had entirely ruled out the possibility either.
There was a knock at the door of the hotel room - three sharp taps, executed with military precision. You and Alpha glanced at each other. Reluctantly, he retreated to the refresher while you checked who was knocking - technically speaking, Alpha was supposed to stay at the GAR barracks after he had been released from the medcenter. He could hardly answer the door to a room registered in your name while you packed up his personal belongings in the background.
The cheap hotel room doors offered no way for you to check who was standing on the other side, but the door panel did let you opt to partially open it, keeping the exposed opening to a sliver. You used that feature then, peering through a gap the width of your hand to see who was on the other side.
It took you a long moment to recognize Kal Skirata, especially since he wasn't wearing his gold Mandalorian armor. Instead, he wore a bantha skin jacket and dark trousers. He looked like a harmless old man, someone you would pass on the street without a second glance.
Until you saw the look in his eyes.
Skirata's eyes were full of emotion - sympathy, grief, anger, determination. They were the eyes of a mercenary, of someone who would gladly strike first if it gave him the advantage. And maybe even if it didn't, just for the satisfaction of hurting his opponent.
He didn't speak at first, allowing you time to study him while he did the same to you. At last, he offered you a shallow nod. "Can I come in? I'd like to speak with you both."
You hesitated. Skirata wasn't trying to force his way into the room, but you weren't sure whether Alpha would appreciate you bringing him inside. You wondered briefly if there were a subtle way to close the door on Skirata, check with Alpha, and return to the door to either let him in or send him away. You doubted it.
"I have some intel," Skirata added.
From somewhere behind you, Alpha heaved a loud sigh. "Let him in and we'll get this over with."
Skirata offered you another nod as he stepped inside. You closed the door quickly, but not before you glanced around outside. You couldn't see anyone watching the room, though that didn't mean much. The Nulls had shown a remarkable affinity for following orders from Kal Skirata. With their skill set, they could be hidden just outside the room and you would never see them.
Skirata hadn't moved far into the room. Alpha had come from the refresher and you both watched the Mandalorian study the room. You and Alpha had clearly been sharing a bed - there was only one in the room, after all - but you had finished packing up everything else. It would feel more… revealing, somehow, if he could see Alpha's civilian clothes tangled with yours, heaped up from when you had returned from a laundry service.
It was bad enough that he could probably see where you had rearranged the furniture to make it easier for Alpha to get from the bed to the refresher and back.
"I heard you've been trying to recover Fives's body."
While you were still blinking at the abruptness of that, Alpha nodded once. "You knew him?"
"Knew of him," Skirata corrected. "Enough to reckon he knew something that someone didn't want him to share."
"That's what we think." You glanced between the two of them, guessing that Alpha would be too proud to ask what he clearly wanted to. "Do you know where they're keeping Fives's body?"
Skirata nodded once, the motion tense. "Not that it means much. No chance they'll release him to us. He's being "studied". The kaminii say that something went wrong with him and that they can figure out what."
Alpha snorted. "Handy little trick, that. Pretend to investigate the cause while they cover up the real one."
"Is the GAR at least going to test his blood?" you asked. "All reports indicated that Fives was drugged or poisoned before the transport got to Coruscant. Surely they'll investigate to find out what affected him so strongly."
For two men who were so often at odds, Alpha and Skirata wore exactly the same expression as they looked at each other.
"They aren't going to do any tests," Alpha told you.
You lifted your chin at him. "Then maybe I can convince them that they need to."
The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed. "You've done enough lately."
"Alpha's right," Skirata agreed. "My boys have intercepted some communications from that chakaar Tohu's office since you came off that prison ship with a trooper."
"What did he say?" Alpha asked, eyes sharpening.
"Nothing actionable." Skirata looked back in your direction. "But you need to keep your head down for a while. Both of you should."
You made a sound of disagreement. "I don't think that will be possible. Alpha's surgeries are to be studied. If a trooper's job is specialized enough, the GAR will consider paying for cybernetic surgeries."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Alpha muttered. "Are you telling me that I should stop trying to retrieve Fives's body, Skirata?"
Skirata lifted one shoulder in a casual sort of shrug. "Just saying that it'll be a waste of your time, Alpha. You aren't going to get him back, not in the next twelve hours."
You and Alpha both visibly deflated at the reminder of your upcoming departure. You could keep working through your sources and connections to bring Fives back for a proper burial, but you were simply out of time.
"Udesii." Skirata rested a hand on Alpha's shoulder. "I can't help you get his body, but I do have something for you. Come with me. Both of you."
Skirata brought you both to a quiet platform overlooking the burning expanse of Republic City's Industrial Sector. You were surprised - and a little dismayed - to see several of the Null ARCs there, but Alpha rested a hand on the small of your back, silently reminding you that he was there with you. There was no safer place to be than beside him, on or off his crutches.
Skirata stood next to the Nulls, looking solemn. All of them removed their helmets in turn, clipping them to belts or tucking them under one arm as they stood at attention. They turned to look out over the Industrial Sector, leaving you, Alpha, and a heat-shimmering stack for an enormous furnace at their back.
At some silent signal from one of them, the whole group began to speak in Mando'a, voices pitched low and thrumming with emotion. "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum."
You recognized enough of the words to understand that it was a remembrance of sorts. The Mando'a was followed by a list of names and designations, the numbers spoken with just as much reverence as the names. There were so many of them.
Alpha had picked up on the Mando'a with the others, but fell silent during the recitation of names. He looked out over the Industrial Sector, gaze pensive and somber. When the names finally stopped, he turned to glance back at Skirata.
The old sergeant was holding out a kama, angular stripes in a familiar navy blue decorating the stiff , standard-issue cloth. "I couldn't get his body back for you, son, but adding him to the aay'han and burning his kama is remembrance enough for a Mandalorian."
"He was a clone, not a Mandalorian," Alpha decreed, but his tone lacked its usual fire.
Skirata simply watched him, the lines of his face set in an expression that was almost kind. He never withdrew the kama. Clearly, he was leaving it up to Alpha whether they burned it or not.
Alpha took the blue and grey striped material, staring down at it intently. After a long moment, he extended a hand and let it flutter down into the furnace stack in front of you. As he watched it disappear, presumably burned in seconds by the immense heat of the furnace, he said, "Fives."
"Fives," everyone else echoed, sealing their litany of lost brothers with this newest name.
Alpha's eyes were brimming and he turned away, facing the glittering skyline to avoid being seen. You understood - the Nulls probably wouldn't use such an intimate and solemn ceremony against him later, but the grief was so fresh and raw that it felt better to tuck away.
Skirata cleared his throat. "You boys go make sure the Aay'han is ready for departure. We've completed our mission. Best get you boys back off of Coruscant before we start drawing attention."
He clapped Alpha on the shoulder and stepped away, allowing him a moment of privacy. You watched the Nulls leave without a moment's pause. You caught Skirata's eye at the last moment, nodding when he jerked his chin toward the other side of the platform.
When you had stepped as far out of Alpha's earshot as you could manage, Skirata leaned in toward you, voice pitched low as if to avoid being overheard. You got the sense it wasn't Alpha that he was trying to avoid being heard by.
"Something is coming."
You frowned, trying to figure out exactly what he meant. "Why are you on Coruscant?"
"I can't tell you that and you don't want to know," Skirata said firmly. "But something is coming. I don't have details and I wouldn't share them if I did. The only reason I'm telling you anything is because you're important to Alpha. When it happens - whatever happens - you try to find me."
"Where would I start looking for you?" you asked, realizing abruptly that you didn't have the slightest idea of where Skirata lived or worked. You didn't even know who he worked for. The only faction he seemed loyal to were the clones.
"You don't worry about that, just start looking for me." Skirata grinned, but it was vicious. "You won't find me, tayli'bac? But when you look, I'll hear about it. Then I'll find you."
"Did you pull me over here to give a cryptic warning, insult me, and tell me to do what I would have already done?"
"You already would have..?" Skirata trailed off, studying you curiously. "Tried to contact me?"
"Alpha trusts you," you explained, knowing the simplicity of that statement stood on its own. Alpha didn't trust easily and he never put his faith in the wrong people.
Skirata's expression softened into something like a smile. "He's a good lad. You're not bad either, for an aruetii."
You stiffened. "No more insults. I'm no traitor, Skirata."
He laughed, a short bark of it that sounded more surprised than amused. "Seventeen is teaching you? Well, tell him to get the vocab right. Aruetiise aren't necessarily traitors. Just outsiders, and you are one of those. Too many more heroics on prison ships might change that, though, provided you don't end up dead."
You glanced back toward Alpha despite yourself, remembering how worried he had been when you had fought for Dogma's release. Maybe he hadn't been overreacting as much as you had assumed.
Skirata spoke again, voice serious once more. "You two better get back to your room and rest up for your flight tomorrow. Remember what I told you."
"Something's coming," you supplied with a nod.
Skirata nodded back. "Be ready."
And then he was gone.
---
Author's Note - Happy May the Fourth! Or… sad May the Fourth? Sorry for this one. Fives's death is my least favorite of the whole series, but it had to happen here. Though you know the old Star Wars-ism: no body, no death. So there could be hope?
I apologize if the stuff with Alpha using his cane to 'recharge' the cybernetics got a little overly complex. I rewrote that part about a dozen times and I'm still not thrilled with it. If you see me randomly editing this chapter, that will be what I'm working on. From a plot/character perspective, it's important to me that Alpha is still able to do his job as the GAR's ARC trainer, but the damage done to his body can't be hand-waved away the way Anakin's (and Luke's!) replacement hands were in the movies. Mobility aids in the GFFA need to be more prevalent, so I would be editing the EXPLANATION of the cane, not removing the necessity entirely.
I'll see you soon with a chapter that's less of a beast. Thanks for reading!
Read Chapter 1 & 2 ! | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Warnings : Angst Angst Angst / Drama / Violence / Short Chp 1k Words / Sorry Fam But I'll Fix it / Argument / Sad Time / Spider-girl x Doc Ock / Doc Ock Intersex / 18+
When you’d made it into newspaper headlines as Spider-Girl, it wasn’t long before you’d begun to miss normal life. What it was like to be on the sidelines of danger. A mere spectator again.
It felt like a long-ago memory to not be in every physical altercation of this city now.
But as all these action shots landed in the newspaper, all those pictures taken of you mid-swing.
Well, most didn’t ever get the chance to feel the adrenaline or smell the blood.
Yeah, what a strange thought. But it was one you had. Your spidey senses never giving you the option for any sort of peace.
Much less the crippling overload of sensory.
So others would just have to take your word for it.
They would never be with you in this moment.
As the smell of blood mixed with sawdust invaded your senses.
Surprising, but true - it is a smell that won’t be forgotten soon.
As the front door to the late May Parker’s home was smashed, the hinges were breaking like they hadn’t provided decades of safety for this family.
You realized you should have left your evil villain girlfriend a note.
What do they say about hindsight?
Liv’s curls are a blur as she gets the first jab.
Her fist lands square on Peter’s jaw. The sound of it was revolting if you weren’t used to this type of violence. But you still you hate that your spider senses ears could hear the cartilage in his jaw bending to the physics of Liv’s blow.
Spiderman allows it, if only to give his wife a second to move their sweet daughter. Who should never have had to witness this mess.
But seeing MJ clutching her sweet little girl to her chest filled you with anger.
MJ and Peter had planned for this, though, a day when little May would see something horrific. So as she made her way out of the back of the house to their safe location, you felt guilt washing over you.
They didn’t know Liv.
Your Liv.
You reached out to grab your girlfriend's shoulder, mind catching up, she was just scared. That’s all this was.
The older scientist midst the fight still not willing, for a single scratch fell on you.
instead, a long mechanical tubbing of an arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed uncomfortably. Your feet lifting off the ground: as though you were dating Ursula the sea witch with her long tentacles instead of esteemed Doctor Olivia Octavias.
How you’d found the suspension and tentacle idea so hot before….but not now.
But she was airlifting you out of the fight, away from harm.
You gasped as she squeezed, and Peter’s eyes darted to you as Liv gave another blow to his stomach. He doubled over and then was lifted in a similar manor as you. Only not so kindly out of the violence.
You open your mouth but are being squeezed too tight to speak.
Your girlfriend wasn’t looking at you, her glare squared for Peter.
“Liv, what a pleasant -su-suprise welcome to my home.” He wheezed out as Doc Ock broke two of his ribs with the power of her tendrils.
“Only my friends call me Liv, Spiderman.” She gritted out as a stray curl fell down her forehead. Peter coughed up a bubble of blood.
“Liv,” you squeaked out, but only Peter could heard you.
His face morphed in confusion.
Doc Ock reared her fist back once more to collide with Spider-Man's nose.
The bridge bursting as blood ran down his lips.
You couldn’t budge from your your bonds, but you kicked at the air.
Liv reared her fist back again as you struggled in her grip. Her bruised knuckles ready for the next punch, just as Spiderman’s eyes widened in realization.
“Oh, my god. You love her.” Peter said, his teeth all bloody.
Doc Ock froze mid-fight.
She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, not sure what to do with a bloody Spiderman not hitting her back for once.
“Liv!” You squeak out louder this time and she twists to see you. Like a rabid animal caught in a trap. Horrified at what she’d done. Unable to pick the right thing now that she was this far gone.
But you see her fear, her hurt, her terror that you’ve left her for good.
That’s what she’d lashed out, and now couldn’t take it back.
“You thought she came her to turn you in…” Peter says out loud as you and your girlfriends eyes meet.
You’re pleading with her.
Desperate for her to stop this, to give you a chance to explain.
But her face clouds with all her ugly doubts.
“You never wanted me, you-you just didn’t want me to be the villain.” She stutters, the highest IQ in the room. But it also seemed she had the most to lose in this misunderstanding. How could she be so wrong? How could you fix this?
You shake your head as tears fall.
“You’re wrong, but you know that- don’t you, Doctor Octavius?” Peter says from behind and you want him to shut up, but the words also seem to hit Liv square in her chest.
No one was fighting her, two super heroes in one room with a villain.
“No,” she says and drops you to the ground, you fall to your knees your scientist slowly makes the decision to release Peter.
Her fight or flight must be coming in, because all that rage leaves her body.
Now she feels the cold, crippling understanding of all she’d done. For once in Doctor Olivia Octavius's life, she feels regret. For having so misunderstood the calculations.
But worse, she’d hurt you, and now she had to leave.
Her super suit arms folding in on her body, like a bug left out under the sun too long.
She moves to the door.
“Please!” You cry out, but Liv is sure that this is the best thing for you.
You stumble onto your feet and grab at her shoulder, mere inches away from the scars you know are tender; even now, you are careful not to hurt her.
The truth churns in the evil doctor's gut. Chin cast down, she looks over at your hand like she needs to remember this moment.
“Spider-girl doesn’t fall for the villain, everyone knows that.” She says, and you let out a sob, further breaking her heart.
“Liv don’t do this, you said we could leave this life, you said we were worth it.” Your words are piling on top of each other, panic and sadness choking you. “Let’s go, you and me let’s go!”
Liv’s smile is sick, like she’s going to lose her mind now.
“The world needs Spider-girl.” She reasons out, ashamed of the side she chose in the name of science. Wanting to take it all back, to fix it all.
“I need you.” You say, and like a bullet hitting her chest, she closes her eyes.
Unable to handle such a request now.
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Liv whispers, it’s so soft that your spider senses pick it up, you falter on your feet. Not able to believe this was ending like this.
“Please don’t go. We can go back to my apartment, we can make breakfast. There’s still some eggs left. I can show you what I made for your experiment- we can -we can-we can..” You stutter, Peter steps forward, unable to take you like this.
You twist to see him and yell.
“GET AWAY FROM US!” You say to him, his face bloody, in Aunt May’s home. You shout at the only person you called family.
“Don’t you see,” Liv says, and you can’t see through your tears you wipe at them. Then Liv gives you the answer, just like she’d taught you at the lab so long ago. She’d teach you now. “With great power comes great responsibility.”
MultiFandom Fanfics Here | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰
I think many of us are familiar with the tailor/seamstress reader au trope, right?
Like, the character is all nervous and blushing 'cause reader so close to them, smoothing down the material over their shoulders, breathing in their ear as reader adjusts the collar, altering the inseam-
However, I'd like to propose an alternative yet equally promising version of the trope: tailor/seamstress reader, but the character is helping them tailor and alter clothes to themself.
Like reader texts for the character to come over 'cause they need a favor, and there they are in their living room with their back half exposed to the character 'cause the zipper broke and they're stuck??
Or reader is altering a pair of pants and needs to take it in a several places so they ask the character to help hold the folds in place- standing right behind reader, hands on their waist, their breath fanning back into their own face off of reader's neck while they're in work mode and totally oblivious???
Or reader just casually taking off their shirt to check the fit real quick and completely forgetting that's not something people are supposed to just do within company and the character just has to sit there and pretend their whole world isn't caving in?????
So maybe it is just me, but I see so much potential here. I've taught myself how to sew over the past 3 years and these are all extremely common occurrences for me when I'm working on something.
Maybe this is a controversial take but I want more reader insert fics where the reader is FUCKED UP just straight up a Murderer, a Cannibal, a Criminal Mastermind, a Supervillain, SOMETHING!!!
Especially for slasher x reader fics I absolutely crave a reader who is able to match their FREAK and for the slasher to FUCKING LOVE IT!!!
⚔️ - Excessive Violence / Graphic [most of what is here tbh]
The Fourth Wing
Little Healer | Garrick Tavis X OC
Forced into the Riders Quadrant after her father’s execution, healer-born Aeralyn Blackthorn must survive a world she never chose—while facing a man from her past and feelings that refuse to stay buried.
ONE | TWO | **on hold for rewrite**
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The Last Soft Thing In Basgiath | Xaden X Reader ⚔️
Basgiath isn’t a place for gentleness—but you never learned how to be anything else. When the Marked Ones are dumped into your section after Rider Survival Course, you choose compassion over obedience and quietly keep them alive while the rest of the infirmary looks away. Xaden Riorson doesn’t remember much of those days—only a soft voice, steady hands, and warmth in the dark. When he finally wakes, he realizes the healer who saved him might be the only soft thing left in Basgiath.
MASTERLIST
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The Weight of a Crown | Xaden X OC
Kaela Tavis has spent her life believing the Crown protects its people.
Until she hears the crack of a whip.
On a slave platform, under her family’s authority, is where she meets him.
A prisoner who has been owned by the Crown for so long that he has forgotten what it means to be seen as a person.
Azriel is the one who never waivers. Always in control and always collected. But, in a split second that all goes to hell, and now he has to trust you to get him out of this in one piece.
LINK
Between Chains and Shadows | Azriel X Reader ⚔️
[Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt]
Azriel has been strung up for the better part of a week when his captors send in a servant healer with strict orders: keep him alive— nothing else. She walked into his cell with nothing and no one, but she never imagined that she would find someone who was everything.
LINK
Lesson Learned | Rhysand X Reader ⚔️
[Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt]
Under the Mountain, kindness is a liability.
When a kitchen servant begins leaving bread and stolen tonic for Rhysand after one of Amarantha’s punishments.
He learns exactly how fatal softness can be.
Or: The moment Rhysand decided to become a monster.
