Spectre Status Recognized

Call me Steph or Twisted || she/her || Elder Millenial || 18+ only || Asks are open || Requests are closed || Main: Art-of-the-Twistedstitcher || Secondary: TwistedStitcher27 || Fandoms: Star Wars, Mass Effect, and whatever else tickles my fancy ||

[twistedsarchive]

Drift

Pairing: Fives x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Summary: Your damaged shuttle has left you adrift in space and waiting rescue with Fives. Although not in danger, the threat of boredom gives you an idea for how to pass the time, and maybe even become more than friends.

Warnings: Mutual pining, strip sabacc, flirting, unprotected p in v (don't be dumb IRL. No glove no love), a little teasing and dirty talk.

Length: 3.5k

"Well," Fives sighed, sitting back from the console, "it looks like there's nothing to do but wait for the recovery team to arrive."

He turned the pilot's chair toward you, as you stood from your seat behind him, "Any idea how long?"

"Hard to say. Our nav computer is down, so I'm not entirely sure where we are, but the long range transmitter is working, life support is stable, and we've got enough rations to last a week. We'll run in low power to conserve energy, but they'll find us in time."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you chuckled, "Well, I suppose there are worse people to be stranded in space with."

"Yeah, you could be stuck with Senator Amidala's protocol droid again," he teased.

With a groan, you flopped into the co-pilot's seat, "Maker, don't remind me. I've never known a droid that was so uppity.”

“And how long did it take you to figure out you could turn him off again?”

An incredulous smile crept pulled at the corner of your mouth, “Ya’ know you’re one to talk! That time at the gala and I asked for your help with my dress, did you really think I was asking you to unzip it?”

“I was just seeing low you’d let me take it before stopping me.”

Heat suddenly prickled across your chest, though fortunately the sharp rise and fall of the breath you took was obscured by the modestly high collar of your layered tunic and robe. As an aid to Senator Amidala, you often wore garments similar to those of your representative. The heavy fabric and restrictive tailoring was far from what you preferred, but position afforded you the opportunity to occasionally travel on her behalf, which sometimes placed you in the care of the esteemed ARC trooper, with whom you presently occupied the propulsion-less shuttle.

You had met Fives shortly after his promotion and you immediately felt the chemistry between you. Unless you were taking cover during a firefight, his tone was always playful and dripping with suggestion. The way he looked at you, the way his hands lingered on you when you made casual contact, sent electricity down your spine and straight to your core. And you eagerly returned the behavior, never wasting the opportunity to match his wit and double entendre at every exchange. Yet, despite the clear dynamic you shared and intense sexual tension, he always stopped just short of making a move, which had been a frustrating mystery.

Perhaps it was one you could solve before the recovery team arrived.

“So,” he clapped his hands together, “any ideas how to pass the time?”

“Yeah, actually. I do,” arching a brow, you dug into one of the many hidden pockets of your robe and produced a deck of cards. “Fancy a few hands of sabacc?”

“Oh, I’m not sure you want to do that, sweetheart,” he grinned roguishly. “You might end up owing me your wages before help arrives.”

“Those are awfully big words coming from a man who still owes me money for his bar tab at 79’s, after you burned through your recreational stipend trying to woo that Twi’lek all night.”

He blustered at the comment, “Owe you?! You swooped in and took him home before I could seal the deal. Left me there alone and broke!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that started at your belly and filled the cabin with the sound of your smug victory for a moment before dropping your tone to a velvety purr, “Hey, you could have joined us if you had asked nicely. You’re the one that chose to stay and pout.”

His brows furrowed and his mouth formed a line, “So if we aren’t playing for credits, what then? A game without stakes is pointless.”

Your eyes drifted from his face, down his chest and back up, “How many pieces do you have in your kit?”

“For a round number, about twenty-five. Why do you ask?” He asked, but when you didn’t answer, he put the pieces together in the silence hanging between you. “Wait, are you suggesting we-”

“What’s the matter? Too rich for your blood?” You pulled the deck from the box and began overhand shuffling the cards casually.

With a huff, he shook his head, “No, no…I didn’t say that.”

“Then what’s the problem?” As you spoke, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees to look up at him through your lashes.

He sucked in a breath, “There’s no problem, you’re just underdressed. It isn’t an even playing field. What happens when you’ve lost everything to me and still owe me?”

The suggestion, the smug assumption, in his words made your heart pound in your ears. It’s as the opening you had been hoping for to see if he’d finally make good on all his flirting. An almost bashful grin burst across your face as you bit your lower lip. Your eyes fell from his for a moment, before meeting them again, putting all the seduction you could into your next words.

“Oh, I’m sure you can use that quick thinking ARC trooper brain of yours to think of something I could give you if I lose.”

His spine snapped straight at the raw sexual desire behind your statement. As if on instinct, he spread his knees apart, nearly beckoning you to kneel before him without as much as uttering a word. To drive the suggestion home, you let your eyes flick to his codpiece for a lingering moment and back to his face. Unfortunately for him, there was no hiding the rise and fall of his curaisse as he began breathing quickly. Knowing he was too enticed to decline, you gestured for him to grab a crate to act as your table so you could deal the cards.

Several hours and two dozen rounds later, your eyes lifted from your cards to Fives. He was left with only his greaves and the lower half of his body glove, while you still wore the knee length fitted tunic that served to protect your skin from the itchy, embroidered layers of your dress and robe. Next to you stood the pile of his armor, though you had playfully draped his kama across your shoulders as a trophy. Your few lost garments were carefully draped on the seat at the comm station, to ensure they weren't soiled by the deck.

After seven consecutive losses, Fives was ready to put the cards away so to incentivise him to continue, you opted to remove your binder under your tunic when he won the very next hand. The cool air of the ship made your skin contract, causing your nipples to press against the thin fabric. His eyes drifted down and a low hum rumbled in his chest. He shifted in his seat, refocusing on his cards. Every other time he played sabacc, he held his own and always walked away from the table with a heavier pocket than when he started, yet he had quite literally lost his shirt to you. As his thumb slid across the cards in his hand, he grew confident his luck was about to turn.

"You're stalling," you accuses smugly.

"Ha, hardly," he huffed. "Actually I'm deciding what you're going to lose next."

"Is that so? You sound awfully confident for the number of times you've already lost to me."

"You really think I didn't have a strategy this whole time?"

"I've seen you play sabacc many times, Fives. I know damn well when you don't have a strategy," a teasing smile curled on your mouth. "Even if you did get me naked, we both know you're all talk and no play."

"Wha-I have plenty of play, sweetheart. Loads, tons of play," he bristled at the suggestion.

Setting your cards face down on the crate, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your wide spread knees, "Then what have you been waiting for? Bend me over that console and fuck me already."

His eyes peeled back in surprise and he sucked in a breath, "You know Jesse's crazy about you, right?"

"Jesse and I are just friends," you purred with a giggle.

"Does he know that?" He spoke with pointed skepticism.

You ignored his question, "That's why you haven't made a move."

He didn't answer despite opening and closing his mouth several times. It was the first time you had seen the self-assured ARC trooper speechless. Flipping your cards over to reveal a busted hand.

"You win."

Fives straightened as you stood. Removing his kama, you stepped closer as you bent over to grip the hem of your tunic, slowly pulling it over head. As the garment swung free and fell from your arms, your breasts swayed and dipped as you stood between his spread legs, wearing only thin lace panties. He inhaled sharply but kept gripping his thighs, though propriety vanished when you swung each leg over his and straddled him in a fluid motion, using the headrest as your anchor. His hands gripped the curve of your hips that transitioned to the globes of your ass as you anchored yourself by holding the thick muscles at the back of his neck.

You shifted and sank deeper into his lap, eliciting a hissing, swallowed groan as your heat came in contact with his stiff member. Grinning to yourself, you tilted your head and peppered kisses up the side of his neck. Your hips began rocking against him, giving both of you a taste of sweet friction through your rapidly dampening panties. There was no stopping the breathy moan that escaped your parted lips as you nipped at the flesh of his ear. One hand slid down the dense hair converting his chest and stomach, raking your fingertips through it until you reached the rock hard bulge between your bodies that strained against his compression suit.

He whimpered as you cupped his cock, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter as you traced every vein and curve through the fabric. Precum seeped out his blunted head at your teasing, his hips beginning to shift into your hand. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. With screwed shut eyes and pinched brows he savored the foreplay, but forced his eyes open and firmly took your wrist, stopping your movements. Holding your eyes for a moment, as his heaving chest calmed and he caught his breath, he continued the prior line of conversation.

“Does Jesse know you’re just his friend? Maker, as much as I want this, I can’t do it if he’s going to get hurt.”

Releasing his cock, you returned your hand to his shoulder, “Yes, he does.”

“What did you tell him?” As much as he wanted to take you at your word, he knew his vod could be on the dense side when it came to romance.

His insistence was endearing, if frustrating in the moment, but you respected his concern and need for full disclosure, “Before your last shoreleave, he asked me out on a date and I gently declined, telling him he’s a platonic friend, and that I was interested in someone else.”

“Did you tell him it was me?” Fives wasn’t sure which he preferred, the more he thought about the question.

“No, I didn’t,” you replied, but held him in suspense before continuing. “I didn’t have to. He said he’s known all along that I liked you but thought he’d give it a shot anyway.”

“Before shoreleave? Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you take that Twi’lek home?”

A chuckle huffed from the crooked smile on your face, “Oh please, he passed out in the cab. I had to check his ID for his address to send him home. I ended up just as alone as you that night.”

Fives couldn’t believe what he was hearing. All the time he’d spent shamelessly flirting, pining, aching for you, thinking you were just out of reach, had all been unnecessary. Instead, you were there in his literal grasp, warm flesh under his tender touch. There was nothing holding him back beyond his own hesitation that sex could ruin your friendship. Maker it seemed worth the risk, but not just for the sake of carnal desire but because deep down you were the only person that had captured his heart.

The air between you shifted as your eyes flicked across his face, reading the uncertainty in his gaze, “We don’t have to do this right now, we can wait. You’re just…you’re you and I think I’m falling in-”

It was all he needed to hear. Before you could finish, his lips crashed into yours, full of longing and desperation. His tongue was sweet as it swept across your parted lips before rolling against yours. You had known all along that his kiss alone could make your knees buckle, and you were grateful to be sitting as his hands traveled your bare skin, gripping and tweaking the places that made you moan into his mouth. The months of hearing him talk about his conquests, which secretly made you shift your legs together to slake the tremble at the apex of your thighs until you could be alone to try to satiate your desire, but you never really could. Not with your own hands or even a toy, because you knew no one in the galaxy would fuck you like Fives.

In an instant, he swept you into his arms and pushed you onto the console, being careful to make sure the buttons and toggles didn’t dig into your soft flesh. He guided your legs around his waist and resumed kissing you. The texture of his hairy chest against yours, the prickle of his ever growing facial hair, and the occasional bite of his armored legs was a sensory overload you hadn’t expected that day. Breathless and eager, he broke away long enough to shed his cuisses. As he did so, you slid your panties down your hips with as much grace as you could muster, letting them drop to your feet as he was bent over. His eyes met yours from between your knees with a roguish glint while his hands ghosted across your skin to remove the garment the rest of the way.

“If I knew how much time we had out here,” he murmured, kissing his way up your naked legs. “I’d spend hours between your thighs making you come over and over and over until you were leaving a puddle on the deck. But…”

You exhaled a sharp whine as he only ghosted his mouth across your pussy, pausing just long enough to sweep his tongue through your slick before bringing his face back to yours.

“But I want to take my time unraveling you on my tongue so, next time sweetheart,” as he spoke he freed his length, pumping himself in an effort to tease you.

“Fives, if you don’t give me something I’m going to-”

Before you could finish, closed the distance between your bodies and nudged the head of his cock into your folds, stealing your breath away. With each roll of his hips, he split you open, rolling his hips until he bottomed out. At first, there was a sting to the stretch, having had so little foreplay but you were so wet from the frictionless dance you had done with him, it didn’t take long for you to adjust. He watched the small muscles of your face relax as you did so, flashing a smug smile to confirm you were ready. Your body shivered against his when you nodded, the anticipation alone edging you on.

He drew his hips back, dragging his length nearly completely out of your body before thrusting back in. You gripped the thick muscles at the back of his neck as he repeated the motion, gradually picking up the pace until you were howling in carnal delight. Gripping the meat of your thighs, he buried his face in your neck, moaning every time his pelvis pounded against yours, his heavy balls swinging against the globes of your ass.

“You feel…so…fucking…amazing,” he groaned against your ear, hot breaths wafting across your sticky, sweaty skin. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Fuck me Fives,” you cried as you dug your nails into his shoulders to spur him on. “Fuck me deeper.”

At your request, he dropped your legs, and turned you around, bending you over the console, though you were empty for only a moment before his thick cock slammed into you once more. His hands groped at your breasts, gripping and pulling at your nipples until you were an incoherent, babbling mess under him, praising his every movement as he hit the devastating place deep inside. The coil was wound painfully tight as you firmed your stance and began meeting his thrusts.

“That’s my girl,” he smugly praised. “Take what you want off my cock. Can’t wait to watch you riding me. Fucking yourself on my dick to get yourself off. I’ll bet you know just what to do to make yourself come.”

“Yeah, fuck…yeah I do," you eagerly confirmed.

“Show me, be a good girl and show me," he encouraged. “Come all over my cock. Ooh, you’re so close I can feel the way you’re clenching. Show me what you need.”

Your hand left the console and began rubbing your clit as he pounded into you, flicking and teasing that one place no one else had ever bothered to find, making your legs tremble. Not long after, you felt his hand over yours, learning through feel what you were doing. He was a quick study, taking over your ministrations with devastating efficiency. Without missing a beat you gasped a moment later and cried his name as you came, throbbing around his length. His pace faltered just as your walls stilled and he pulled out, fisting his cock with hissing breaths until the hot ropes of his release painted your lower back. When he finished, he leaned over you, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades as you both caught your breath.

“Don’t move,” he panted. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

His warmth vanished and you looked over your shoulder, watching him check a number of cabinets in search of a towel or rag. When he came up empty handed, he instead picked up the shirt of his compression suit, finding the back and using it to wipe his cum from your skin. Once you were clean, he planted several kisses where you still smelled of his release. Then he helped gather your clothes so you could redress easily.

“Thank you,” you whispered, somewhat surprised by his care.

He gave you a boyish smile, clearly still swimming in the afterglow of the moment, as he crouched and held your panties open, "Your clothes are complicated. Once I know how they go on, I'll be able to get them off faster."

Heat flooded your body at the realization that was just the first of what would likely be many more encounters. Despite the desire for more, you rested your hands on his shoulders as you stepped back into them, one foot at a time. His warm hands glided against your thighs as he pulled them back into place. The intimate action combined with the intense smolder in his eyes made your stomach flutter. He gathered your tunic and held it at the ready as you fastened your binder, followed by the heavy robe. As you gathered the edges, he stepped close and lavished your exposed neck one last time before your skin was hidden once more, making sure to rake his teeth just enough to chance leaving an indentation behind. A heady breath escaped your lips as your body responded to his touch.

"It really isn't that complicated," you countered with a wink. "You just have to know where to put your hands."

"That a challenge, sweetheart?"

He watched for a moment then joined you as you closed the clasps, which always buried themselves in the layers of fabric. You happily let him take over, enjoying the tension that was building between you as your body became more and more inaccessible. Holding your lower lip between your teeth you studied his handsome features as a playful grin pulled at the corner of your mouth. When he was done, you only had to make small adjustments.

"You gonna teach me how to put your armor on now?" You slyly asked, picking up his pauldron.

"Don't you worry," he flashed a dangerous smile. "You'll get lots more practice getting me out of my kit."

Within moments he was dressed, save for the pauldron he still held. Dipping his head, you carefully placed it on his shoulders, making sure to link the clasps to his chest plate. His brows rose in surprise that you knew what to do.

"You aren't the only fast learner," you teased, hooking your fingers into the upper edge of his curaisse.

He rumbled a smirk as you pulled him close, lips parting for a kiss. As he pushed you against the console again, slotting between your legs, a giggle escaped your lips. You had waited so long yet it was all happening so fast. Just as you began to lose yourselves in the heady frenzy of making out like teenagers, a proximity alert beeped as the Twilight suddenly appeared.

Fives jerked his head up as you looked over your shoulder, seeing General Skywalker, Captain Rex, and Jesse grinning in the cockpit. Embarrassment burned in your face as you buried yourself in his neck. The comm trilled, which he obediently opened, rubbing your back for comfort.

"Hey there, Fives," Skywalker chuckled. "We're here to rescue you, if we aren't interrupting."

"Good of you to come so quickly," he stammered out.

"Hope we didn't arrive too soon. Need us to circle the sector?"

Over the comm you heard the spurting, suppressed laughter of Jesse in the background, "Don't worry, General. Fives never lasts that long."

As Fives blustered at his brother's hazing, you pulled his mouth back to yours to silence him. Rex audibly sighed at the entire unprofessional situation and closed the channel as Jesse whooped and cheered for his brother. You knew you'd never hear the end of it, but you didn't really care. If you'd known all you all it was going to take to get him to make a move was getting stranded in space you'd have done something about it yourself. But, you decided, better late than never.

[twistedsarchive]

Just As Good? Part III

Pairing: TBB Echo x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Summary: Despite the mutual attraction between you and Echo, your world shatters with the utterance of a single sentence. After months apart, lost in the mechanism of the Empire, at long last, you find your beloved Echo, but it seems your lives are not meant to continue on the same path.

Warning: Angst. *slaps this fic* You would not believe the angst I've stuffed into this fic. I would apologize for it, but I just don't feel that bad. Oral (both m and f receiving), cum eating, creampie, fingering, unprotected p in v (don't be dumb IRL. No glove, no love) reader states an implant, so contraception is on board. Canon-type violence, mention of genocide and injuries. Alcohol consumption and language. It's a long chapter, please let me know if I missed anything triggering.

The beauty of hyperspace was always captivating. As a child growing up on Lothal, you never imagined your life would take the direction it had, yet there you were, in the cockpit of Marauder, hurtling across the galaxy, another successful mission under your belt. With any luck, it meant the Republic was one step closer to victory and maybe a normal life. Familiar footfalls approached, pulled you from your trance as you turned your face to the door.

"You busy?" he asked politely, lingering in the frame.

"No," you didn't resist the smile that pulled in your cheeks. "I was thinking about you, actually."

Echo smiled boyishly and quietly closed the door for a fraction of privacy. You instantly on your feet and in his arms, your lips finding his with urgency. He returned your longing, pulling you flush against his body as he clung to you. The mission had been long, without a single private moment to steal. While you both had stayed focused on the task at hand, inside you were aching to be alone with him.

"Maker, it's been hard to resist kissing you," he gasped, resting his forehead against yours when the need for air drove your mouths apart.

"Me too. I've wanted to be with you for so long," looking up into his eyes, three words formed in your mouth but you hesitated to say them, afraid it was too soon.

He caressed your cheek and, seeming to read your expression, bent down to kiss your lips sweetly. "I think I'm fall-"

"Got a mission!" Hunter called through the door after, pounding a fist on the durasteel three times.

Echo took a tempering breath to calm the flash of frustration at the intrusion. You took his face in your hands and planted a kiss on his cheek. As you stepped away from his arms, he squeezed your backside, making you yelp in surprise. When you looked back in shock, the roguish grin he wore as his eyes danced across your face made your core ache. 

"Hope I wasn't interrupting anything important," Hunter teased lightly. "Our orders have been updated. General Bilaba has requested assistance on Kaller. They're entrenched and need our help breaking the droid line. First however..."

Hunter's tone and look he gave you made your gut sink. "What is it?"

"Our orders are to take you to a transfer station. You're to report back to Coruscant immediately."

"What?" Echo huffed in shock. "Why?"

"The Separatists launched an attack on Coruscant, the Supreme Chancellor was taken hostage. The Jedi rescued him, but all outlier volunteers are being recalled for security reasons."

Your eyes stung, but you blinked the emotions away. Crying wasn't going to change anything. Echo's hand protectively gripped your shoulder. It took everything in you not to turn into his chest. 

"Hunter, this isn't right," he protested.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Orders are orders," you held a stiff upper lip, knowing it was the nature of a soldier's life. "I'll get my gear packed."

With a rigid spine, you walked out of Echo's comforting presence and immediately felt a degree colder. Crosshair gave you a little empathetic nod as he followed Tech to the cockpit, taking Wrecker with him.

"Hunter, she isn't a security risk," Echo forcefully whispered. "You know that as well as I do."

"I know and I know what this is doing to both of you. I am truly sorry," he sighed. "I don't want it to be this way, but we...don't have a choice. Once this all settles down, I'll do what I can to get you back on the team but for now...my hands are tied. We'll give you some time alone to say goodbye."

As Hunter departed, Echo looked back to the bunks with a heavy heart. Your legs poked out of the opening as you sat and quickly packed your few possessions in your pack. He walked over and looked up at you, seeing your glassy eyes for the first time. You couldn't hold his gaze long before a sob began to choke in your throat but you bit it back with a clenched jaw until it felt like you were going to explode. 

"Sorry I didn't get to finish what I started," he joked when he saw a flash of purple in your bag.

A chuckle huffed in your chest, regaining some of your composure, "Me too. I was really looking forward to that. Can't promise I won't use it while we're apart.

"Will you still think of me when you do?" He asked, suddenly nervous as he waited for your answer.

"You're the only one I've ever thought about when I do," you whispered. 

His chest swelled at your words, "We'll see each other again, I promise."

Wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath, you slid down once your bag was packed and closed. He immediately kissed you with desperation, despite your messy face. Although part of you held out hope that it wasn't goodbye, you couldn't ignore the stone of worry in your gut that everything was about to change. 

Six Months Later...

Your senses were overwhelmed as you regained consciousness. The deafening roar of conflagration, the choking smoke and nauseating smell of green wood and flesh burning, the piercing pain in the left side head. Rational thoughts failed as you scrambled to process your surroundings into a plan of action. Sweat drenched your body, not from exertionbut from the radiant heat of the blaze in which you were trapped. 

Opening your eyes, the display on your helmet flickered and shorted out, leaving you blind through the tinted visor, save for the ominous glow, bathing everything in orange. The filters couldn't keep up with the onslaught of carcinogens around you and your lungs began to burn with each inhale of smoke and ash. Darkness quickly encroached, the absence of oxygen in the air stealing the life from your body. As you relaxed your head against the hot ground, too exhausted and disoriented to fight against the falling curtain, you pictured him behind your closed lids. His smile, his warm, honey-brown gaze, shining for you and you alone as he reached a hand toward you.

Through the cacophony of the blaze and your own surrender to death, you barely noticed the approach of a figure, much less her deep sapphire gaze as she spoke to you with her mind.

Do not be afraid, this is not our day to die.

He saw you walking across the platform, walking away. Your pack was slung on your shoulders and helmet tucked under your arm. The transport on the other side was waiting to take you to your new post. Orders were orders and yours were no longer the same as his. With one last look over your shoulder, you said goodbye with your watery eyes before donning your helmet, your protection, your shell, the only sanctuary you had left. 

As the ramp closed and engines engaged, something in him snapped. He couldn't let you go. Racing from the Marauder, he waved his arms to stop the shuttle. Orders be damned, he wasn't going to live without you. But his legs wobbled and the ground became unstable. His shouts garbled in his mouth and only muted noises came out. 

The shuttle continued to despite his floundering protests as he fought to break away from his useless limbs that protested every motion. Suddenly the ship burst into flames. To his horror, the wreckage fell like a stone into the dark, churning blanket of thick clouds below the platform. Without thought, Echo dove from the platform after you and groaned when he hit the floor of the Marauder. 

Holding his head, it took a moment for the remnants of the nightmare to fade away. A sheen of sweat in his skin gave him a chill outside the confines of his bunk. He carefully climbed back up to the upper bunk, having moved into the one you vacated after your reassignment as a way to stay close to you. Your scent had long since faded from the bedding and was replaced with the recurrent scene of your death, playing in his subconscious almost every time he slept as a painful reminder of yet another thing the Empire had taken away. 

It was hot in the markets and the tightly packed bodies of the residents shuffling past one another didn't help the temperature. Under your open-faced helmet, sweat collected in your hair, save for the side you kept shaved thanks to the recurrent bald patch above your left ear, a lasting reminder of your presumed demise. Although the Empire didn't seem to exist on Ord Mantel, you took no chances and kept your balaclava high on your face and your head down as you navigated the streets in search of your destination despite the oppressive heat.. 

Doubt filled your mind as you stood outside the cantina. Your contact was certain, adamant even you'd find them at that location, but as you descended the curving staircase, it seemed unlikely. All the same, the subterranean establishment was significantly cooler than it was outside, not to mention quiet. A few patrons were scattered around in small groups huddled over private conversations. The bar was unoccupied, so you seated yourself and freed your face to enjoy a deep breath of fresh air.

After a moment, a surly Trandoshan approached and you ordered a drink. Upon receiving and paying for your beverage, you cautiously posed a question.

"I've heard rumors there are some clones that are in the area. Have you happened to see them?"

"Oh, I see lots of things," she replied, feigning thought. "But my memory is a little...fuzzy at the moment."

Sighing lightly, you dropped a few more credits on the counter, "Does that help clear things up?"

"It does, actually," she collected the gratuity. "Never heard of 'em."

Your eyes narrowed in annoyance as she walked away. You supposed you should have seen it coming. Every attempt you'd made to find the Bad Batch in recent months always had the same result. Missions to extract deserters were always risky and the intel was always flimsy at best, but you had managed to successfully recover and recruit enough troopers to make the effort worthwhile in the eyes of the Rebellion, so they let you continue. Yet, your former squadmates remained elusive. Hope had bloomed in your heart when the mission was approved, but with each minute that ticked by, you began to fear the worst.

Sipping your drink slowly, you lingered as long as possible, hoping they might turn up. In the corner, you could feel the proprietor watching you closely. She seemed agitated, by your continued presence. Although you wanted to wait longer, partaking in another drink seemed ill advised if you were going to be flying later that day and you doubted you'd be allowed to loiter. You needed supplies anyway, so a walk through the markets would help clear your head and shed your disappointment.

"Thanks for the drink," you called dryly, leaving a few more credits as a tip before fitting your mask back in place and leaving. 

Back to the markets once more, you distractedly picked up supplies. Fresh produce was a rare treat, though not even the ripest meiloorun couldn't compare to the sweetness of Echo's kiss. You'd trade nearly anything for it, to even just know he was still alive and wasn't trapped under the thumb of the Empire. Your heart sank as you wandered to the next stall and spied a clone troopers doll in a bin of toys. 

You bought it on impulse, for no other reason than to serve as a memory of once was, a memory of a prior life. With your shopping finished, you looked around to find your way back to your ship. As you oriented yourself, a booming voice caught your attention. It was a voice you'd recognize anywhere. Scanning the packed throngs, the most noticeable person was an adolescent perched atop someone's shoulders. Almost the entirety of the blonde's body was visible above the crowd, indicating that they were being carried by someone very, very tall. 

They were walking away from you, headed in the direction of the cantina. You quickly followed, keeping them in sight as you wove through the crowd. Your heart thundered in your chest and adrenaline flooded your bloodstream making your hands shake. As you caught up to them, you picked up traces of Wrecker's unmistakable voice. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. 

He lifted the girl from his shoulders and they bounded through the entrance where supposedly no one had seen any clone troopers. Your breath caught in your throat, your feet were suddenly lead, and your stomach tightened nervously. It was a moment you had been thinking about since the day you parted ways. Steeling your nerves, you slowly descended the stairs, unsure of what you'd find. 

"I don't need your ex-girlfriends showing up at my place, hanging around for you to show up!" Cid yelled. "I have enough problems of my own!"

"Cid, what are you talking about?" Hunter defended. "None of us have a girl-"

"I don't ask what you all do with your free tips time cause I don't want to know!" she cut off.

Echo had largely tuned out Cid's ranting when they returned. They had no idea what she was ranting about. But as Tech checked the holocam to figure out who the mystery woman was, a possibility crossed his mind. It seemed improbable, impossible. Nothing more than a foolish hope that would only lead to heart break. 

"Echo, look at this," Tech said, pushing the holopad into his hands.

He stared at the image on the screen in shock. There you were, sitting at the bar waiting for them. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed his helmet and thrust the device to Hunter. 

"It's her. Tech, check the docks for any small crafts arriving today."

As he walked around the tables and chairs, you emerged from around the corner. When his eyes met yours, he froze. Your name fell from his lips in a whisper as you removed your balaclava. At the sight of your face, his honey-brown eyes were glassy. Just as he took a tentative step toward you, Wrecker charged passed and embraced you with a boisterous greeting before taking you to the bar for a drink.

Echo gave a patient smile and joined, sitting on your left and scooting the stool close. After a round was served and you were introduced to Omega, you began catching up. Hunter relayed the events of Kaller, the aftermath of the Republic's fall, and what led them to Ord Mantel.

"I heard about what happened to Kamino and. I'm so sorry."

"What happened to you, anway?"

"After my orders changed, all the outlier volunteers were returned to Coruscant. We were evaluated and those of us that made the cut were issued TK-numbers and sent for training."

"You...joined the Empire?" Hunter asked nervously.

"They didn't tell us what was going on. Order 66 was issued while we were in hyperspace, the updates we received were very filtered and controlled. They told us, since the war was over they were going to allow enlistment so the clones could transition to civilian life. I knew in my gut something wasn't right when we arrived on Daro. The troopers were...they weren't themselves anymore. That's when I realized we had been lied to and wanted out."

"That's not an easy task," Echo added grimly.

"Our first mission was to Sertha. We were briefed that a 'native fauna' had been delaying the Empire's mining operation. We arrived in the dead of night and marched to the coordinates. It was a kriffing village. A civilian village that had been there for years. We were ordered to raze the trees they lived in. 'Smoke them out and open fire if they resist.',"you paused, seeking comfort from his presence before continuing. "I refused. Threw down my weapon and tried to reason with the others, but the Commander pulled his blaster and gave me this new beauty mark."

You finally, if reluctantly, removed your helmet and set it on the bar. You'd been living with the scar for several months, but still felt insecure. In your peripheral vision, you could see Echo's wide eyes and pinched brows. When you met his gaze, he put a hand on yours in comfort. To your right, you felt the concerned looks from the others.

"How did you survive?" Tech asked with gentle curiosity. "TK issue armor wouldn't be able to protect you from a shot at that range."

Your eyes narrowed in his direction, "Indeed it wouldn't, which is why I modified mine with an old commando helmet I swiped from storage so it would actually be useful. When I came to, everything was burning and the squad was gone. There was another survivor, she carried me to safety and took me to a medical station. I never got her name, but I think she was a Jedi."

Hunter placed a caring hand on your shoulder. "Well, the Marauder is crowded as always, but you're welcome to join us again."

"I'm not here to join you, I'm here to recruit you."

"For what?" 

"To fight," frustration leaked into your tone at their obliviousness. "Pockets of rebellion are forming every day and resisting the Empire. We need people who know how to fight."

"I appreciate the offer, but Rex already tried-"

"Who do you think sent me?" Frustration gave way to anger in your tone.

Hunter's tone firmed, "We have to think about her safety."

"You're unbelievable," you scoffed. "You think you're the only ones that have kids to worry about? These aren't soldiers, Hunter. they're regular people who have banded together. Any planet with a standing army that fought alongside the Republic was immediately occupied and demilitarized. Those who refused enlistment were arrested on suspicion of sedition."

"I don't see what help the four of us can be."

"You touted your enhancements, your gifts, that set you apart from the rest of the Grand Army. What good are you doing with those gifts hiding here and working as a merc? At least Crosshair owned his choice to stay with the Empire, rather than hiding behind an excuse and choosing complacency."

Your cutting words struck a nerve in Hunter, who stood himself. "Now see here-"

"No, you see here!" you thrust an accusatory finger into his chest plate. "I didn't serve with the Batch for long, but there was one thing that became abundantly clear from the beginning: Clones Force 99, with the exception of Echo, enjoyed a very privileged place in the Grand Army. Have you ever even seen a front line? Landed on the ground with a thousand brothers knowing you'll likely lose half of them?"

Behind you, Echo murmured a caution gently in an attempt to temper your anger. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes softened at his pained expression. Conflict brewed in his gaze. He knew you were right in your protest of their decision, but also that Hunter's mind wouldn't be easily changed. 

"This rebellion is always a day away from failure," you admitted, somewhat defeated. "Clones troopers fighting at their side again...it inspires hope. I've seen it. Your experience and leadership, it's what we need most."

An uncomfortable pause hung in the air. As your eyes bored into Hunter's, you hoped for any sign he'd change his mind. When his shoulders drooped and his eyes fell from yours, it was all the answer you needed. Nodding subtly, you tossed the remains of your drink into your back and grabbed your helmet from the bar. Echo held your arm, begging you to stay by his expression alone. With a faint smile you kissed him briefly and walked out of his grasp. 

"I'm not leaving until the morning," you announced as you donned your helmet and fixed your mask in place. "Docking bay 74...if you change your mind."

You heard him your name, and the scuffle of the stool on the gritty floor as you ascended the stairs, but didn't stop. If you turned back, if you paused, hesitated even for a moment, you weren't sure you'd be able to honor your commitment to the Rebellion after seeing him in person again. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes as you walked back to your ship. 

Damn that stubborn man!

After stowing the delivered supplies and refueling, you sat on the open ramp as the sun set and pulled the trooper doll from your belt pouch and regarded it fondly. Rex had warned you of the likely outcome, so you shouldn't have been surprised. Still part of you had hoped Hunter would see the bigger picture, but it seemed not. And you would return empty handed. Standing, you entered your small ship, setting the doll on your work bench to paint when you had some time to kill. You stared at the crate of produce but suddenly had no appetite, defeat had chased it away. 

As you looked around your ship, suddenly unsure of what to do next, you heard your name in the distance. Stepping to the entrance of the ship, you saw Echo jogging across the docking bay, dust pluming around each footfall. He held your surprised gaze as he ascended the ramp and pulled you into a deep kiss without stopping until he had pinned you against the wall of the ship. Your mouth opened to his as heat flooded your body. All the longing that built in both your time together and separated broke free of restraint. Nothing short of the Empire itself invading Ord Mantel was going to stop you.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, "I'm sorry about Hunter. I tried to change his mind."

"I don't want to talk Hunter," your chest heaved as you panted for a moment before diving back into his lips. 

He groaned, inhaling your scent deeply. "I thought about you everyday. After you left, I had nightmares that your shuttle crashed as you left. It felt like I lost you all over again every night since we parted."

"I'm still here, Echo," you replied.

Echo moaned as you slid your hands under the edge of his codpiece. Grinning to yourself, you unlatched it, tossed it aside, and immediately palmed him through his compression suit. His knees wavered at your touch and he had to brace himself against the wall to stay upright as his hips bucked into your hands. The aching whimpers he made your pussy throb with anticipation. 

"Get the door and you can finally finish what you started," you panted, knowing exactly what you wanted to do next. 

Without hesitation, Echo turned and activated the controls to seal the ship. When he turned back, his eyes blew wide at the sight of you waiting on your knees. As he strode back to you, your head tilted up to meet his hand caressing your cheek, thumb sweeping across your kiss bruised lips. Your hands slid across his bulge and freed his twitching erection. The swollen tip glistened with beads of precum, the aroma of which made your mouth water.

"I was going to make sure you came first, " he crooned as you wetted your lips.

"Do you want me to stop?" your hands stilled against his pelvis.

"I certainly won't say no," he chuckled. "But only if you want to."

Biting your lower lip, you nodded slowly, "Echo, I definitely want to."

Holding his smoldering gaze, you lavished his shaft with wet kisses before drawing the flat of your tongue up the length of his velvety flesh. Staying his fidgety hips with a firm hand, you angled the tip to your parted lips, licking away the weeping fluid and sighing at his taste. Your lips stretched around his girth and, with methodical, agonizing slowness, he sank into your mouth as deeply as you could take him. A sinful groan rumbled in his chest as you pulled back with hollowed cheeks and plunged forward, hungrily eating his cock. Slick quickly coated your panties as his hips instinctively began rolling toward you. 

"It's been a while," he moaned. "I'm not going to last long if you keep going."

His words spurred you on, the sound of his voice alone stoking your desire. Gripping the upper edge of his cuisses, you pushed him deeper into your throat with each bob of your head. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall behind you. Looking up, you drank in the sight of him, brows pinched above heavily lidded eyes blown out in ecstasy, mouth agape as rasping moans escaped his lips. A hand tentatively rested on your head, but when you hummed at the action his grip firmed.

"I'm close," he strained. "I'm really close."

Shifting your hands to the sides of his hips, you relaxed your jaw and took his length deep into your throat until your nose reached the dark, coarse curls at his base. A loud, pleasured cry reverberated off the durasteel. Your fingers dug into the small muscles of his thighs and glutes as they tightened and trembled. The hand on the back of your head gripped firmly as he fought the desire to thrust recklessly into your face. With several more deep pulls, the coil broke and bucked his hips, holding you still as he came down your throat.

When his cock stopped pulsing, his hand retreated to the wall and he steadied himself as his vision cleared. He withdrew from your mouth and ran his thumb across your glistening lips, before offering you his hand, helping to your feet. After tucking him back into his suit, he held back of your neck and kissed you tenderly, sweeping his tongue through your mouth to taste himself on you. With a contented sigh, he held you close for a quiet moment. 

When he pulled back, his hand drifted around the side of your neck as his eyes darkened with want, "Will you let me take care of you now?"

"Yes, please yes," You gasped, pulling at your clothes. 

After he quickly stripped his armor to the waist, he crouched to help you out of your boots. Your trousers and panties immediately followed and before you could move toward your bunk, his hand slid up the inside of your thigh to your slick folds. As his thumb began tracing circles over your clit you saw stars and leaned back into the wall panting. Settling onto his knees, he guided one of your legs to his shoulder and began kissing and nipping at the thin flesh of your inner, almost lazily making his way toward your weeping pussy. Your hips bucked, searching for his mouth but all you received was a devious chuckle. 

"Echo," you whined. "Don't tease. I've waited so long."

He responded with action rather than words. Spreading you open, his tongue began lapping at your clit which sent jolts of indulgent electricity through your body. Slumping back into the wall, ignoring the cold bite of the durasteel against your sweating flesh, your mouth dropped open and you moaned unabashedly. Deep down you always knew Echo knew how to please his partner, though he never bragged about it, unlike every other arc trooper you had known. But his skill was well beyond simply knowing what to do, he had mastered the craft and all you had to do was savor the intensity of his oral ministrations. 

A thick finger grazed across your entrance, gathering your arousal and tracing you for more. Your whines turned plaintive and just when you could take anymore. He sank the digit deep into your tight cunt. After several moments of thrusting and curling, he added a second filling you more completely while he resumed eating you like a man starved. The vibrations from every grunt and groan he released sent exhilarated shivers up your body, which settled in your belly as the pressure built. 

"Come for me," he rasped, his gaze burning into you from between your thighs. "I want to taste it."

The confidence in his voice caught you off guard, making your walls flutter. As he spoke, he curled his fingers deeper, coaxing you to the edge. Your legs began to tremble and heat flooded your body. 

"Ec-Echo, I'm...I'm..." you were so painfully close, you couldn't complete the thought, not that you needed to. 

"That's it, come for me," he crooned. "Good girl."

The quiet rumble of the last two words as his lips closed around your clit sent you over the edge. You cried his name, somewhere between screaming and singing, as you clenched around his fingers. He withdrew them and lapped at your entrance, consuming your release with a visceral moan of satisfaction. As you rode the waves of your orgasm, he slowly lowered your leg and stood. His chin was soaked with your juices and he licked his lips to taste more. Angling your face up to his, he kissed you deeply, sharing your sweet tang. 

Crouching and gripping your thigh, he swept your legs to his waist and carried you to your bunk. When he set you down, he stood back for a moment and shucked his belt. Kama, and what remained of his armor. Your eyes took in the recovered bulge of his erection, straining against the fabric of his body glove. 

"Do you need a few minutes?" he asked as his thumbs hooked into his waistband.

"Get over here," you playfully commanded. 

Echo promptly stripped the remains of his clothes with a lascivious grin and a dusky "Yes ma'am." 

Wasting no time, he slotted himself between your waiting thighs and lined up with your entrance. With one deep roll of his hips after another, he split you open and filled you with his cock. You positively melted at the stretch you had been aching for, that you had been dreaming of, for months on end. Once buried to the hilt, he released a shaking breath, settling into his prosthetic forearm and resting his body against yours.

"Are you comfortable? I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked, eyes flicking between yours. 

"Echo, I'm fine," you reassured gently, caressing his face. "You aren't hurting me."

"Okay. If my prosthetics are uncomfortable please tell me...okay?" 

"I will, I promise."

The thoughtfulness of his request made your heart flutter. As he brushed his lips against yours, he drew his hips back and rolled back into you several times. It was a tentative thrust and he watched your expression closely for any sign of discomfort. Your breathy moans as he bottomed out and the way your hips rose to meet his reinforced your words that he wasn't causing you pain. His pace steadily increased, dragging his thick cock out of almost entirely before driving deeper and deeper with every piston of his hips. 

He fucked you as no one had before. As his length dragged back and forth against your walls he sucked hard on your neck while whispering gruff praises between his own moans of pleasure. His name fell from your lips like an endless prayer as he worshiped your body. It didn't take long for you to near the edge again. 

"You're so beautiful when you let go," he praised.

"I'm getting...I'm gonna-," you cried, digging your fingertips into his shoulders.

In response he hooked his scomp arm under your knee and pushed your hips up. The new, deeper angle drew a primal, howling moan from your belly as the tip of his cock continuously stroked that place that made your vision go white and all coherent thought vanish. You tried to keep your eyes open, to stay focused on his own building pleasure as evident by his slacked jaw, grunting breaths and pinched brows, but ultimately failed as you fell back into the delicious haze of your trembling pussy. Echo groaned your name loudly as you came and throbbed around his cock. 

"Where? I'm close," he strained, holding back until you answered.

"Inside...implant," you gasped in reply, riding the high if your continuing orgasm.

"I love you," he exhaled as his stride faltered.

He came right after, releasing a breathy whimper before stilling his hips as his cock pulsed and emptied inside you. Pulling you close, he buried his face in your neck, catching his breath. Although you basked in the glow of your high, the last three words reverberated through your mind. Did he realize he said it aloud? As he pulled back and took in your expression, his brows shifted, seeming to realize what he'd said. 

"I'm sorry I, uhh...didn't mean to..." he withdrew from you and shifted to the side of your bunk. 

"I know," you said softly, silencing his panicked ramble with a kiss. "It's okay. I'm going to use the fresher. I'll be right back."

In your absence, Echo laid back in your bed and took a deep breath. Internally, he chastised himself for letting slip the feelings he knew you weren't ready for. The intensity of the moment, of seeing you at long last, finally after all those months apart being able to be with you, had gotten the better of him. Fortunately, you seemed to be taking it in stride. He stretched out on your bunk and took a deep breath.

Letting his hand slip between the mattress and the frame, when he felt a smooth plastic handle. A smile crept across his face as he gripped the object and pulled it out. Unsurprisingly, it was a phallic object, though it was fluorescent blue rather than purple. He supposed in your exit from the Empire, you had been forced to leave your personal effects behind. As the door to the fresher opened, he slid it back to its hiding place and played coy as to its existence.

"So," he grinned as he shifted to lay next to you when you returned from the fresher, "was I just as good as your toy?"

You chuckled loudly, caught off guard by his question though you welcomed the comparably light topic, "Echo, that was better than anything I've ever had before."

Pulling him into a deep kiss, you savored the heat of his body as you continued to swim in a cocktail of serotonin and oxytocin. When you parted, he rested his head on your shoulder, absently tracing the line of your clavicle as you breathed. You could have fallen asleep with him right then and there in a tangle of limbs on your tiny bunk, but as the high of your orgasm, incredible though it was, began to ebb away, your persistent and nagging mind prevented any real peace. The unfortunate reality was inescapable and it made your eyes sting. Echo's hand stilled on the flat of your chest when you took a wavering breath. 

He rose to his elbow to look you in the eye. "Hey, what's wrong?" his voice was a gentle whisper laced with concern.

Swallowing hard and blinking away the tears, your hand cupped his cheek, "I'm just going to miss you."

His brows pulled in the middle as his gaze fell, knowing the truth behind the weight of your words. He couldn't go, but you couldn't stay. Both made promises, vows of service and loyalty that necessitated the forfeit of the self, of one's own wants and desires. It had been a reality he wasn't ready to admit, but one he couldn't deny.

As his own eyes watered, he surged forward, capturing your lips with his, hoping to kiss away the pain you both felt deep inside. With each breath, his body recovered and responded to your touch. The want, the need began to stir in his belly once more. If that was going to be the last time he was going to see you, he wasn't going to waste a moment on something as trivial as sleep until your bodies were utterly spent and incapable of any more. 

Shifting between your parted legs, Echo lavished your neck once more as hands traveled your flesh. The manner in which he brought you to a shuddering orgasm was much the same as before, but the mood between you had changed. Gone was the lustful, heady frenzy with which you started. Instead, as his hard cock pushed inside you with every deliberate roll of his hips, you were saying goodbye to one another. Every breath, every moan, every kiss was committed to memory in the durasteel walls of your minds to call upon during the dark days which undoubtedly lay ahead. 

You had resisted sleep until the wee hours of the morning, but after Echo had made love to you for...you'd lost track of how long, your eyes grew heavy and vision unfocused. Unable to fight it anymore, you drifted off, secured comfortably in his arms, listening to the sound of him breathe into your ear, "I'll find you again, I promise."

Morning came all too soon. There wasn't much either would have given to slow the rise of the sun for just a few hours more, but you could not any more stop the dawn than you could change Hunter's mind. Even in the darkness of your ship, the both of you knew what time it was without checking the chrono or looking outside. Rising with the dawn was as much a soldier's compulsion as maintaining their gear.

At your persuasion, you and Echo showered, one last chance for intimacy, one last memory to make. A fitting end to how it all began. The catharsis wasn't lost on either of you, but it didn't need verbalizing. Instead you watched his every move, every curl on his lips and shift of his brows as the water trickled down his features with a halo-like spray surrounding him. He was an absolute vision as you came together in the durasteel stall.

Afterwards, you dressed quietly, stealing glances at him as he slowly put the pieces of his armor back on. You fought to hold your emotions back as tears stung your eyes, so you turned away. His warm, calloused hand caught your wrist. When you met his gaze you saw the sorrow brimming in his eyes as well. He pulled you into his chest, his hand rubbing your back in a soothing gesture, though you could feel his working jaw against your hair and the tension in his arms. The separation was breaking his heart too. 

Once dressed, emotional and physical armor fixed back in place, it was time. After a lingering final kiss, Echo reluctantly walked down the ramp of your ship. Every step was as difficult as the one before, his feet growing heavier with each stride until the weight of his heart slowed him to a stop in the middle of the silent docking bay. He had resisted looking back, knowing if he saw you crying eyes he wouldn't be able to go, but his resolve crumbled and he turned to find you turning away, the ramp rising behind you. His shoulders dropped, followed by his gaze as he resumed his long walk back to the Marauder and his brothers.

Epilogue - Endor - 4 ABY

It was over. It was finally over. The Empire had fallen. Palpatine was gone. Vader was dead. The Death Star was nothing more than debris, which was burning up in the atmosphere of the tiny forest moon on which you celebrated with your squad and hundreds of others. Beverages of all kinds flowed as the galaxy was finally at long last able to take a free breath for the first in two decades. 

You had been an energetic soldier in your mid-twenties when it started and, although you still retained your grit and stubborn determination, your optimistic, if a bit naive facets had been worn down with age. Hope sprang eternal in the young faces of the next generation of leaders and you smiled nostalgically at their celebration. Undoubtedly they had all lost much growing up under the Empire's thumb, but they had each other going forward. A string plucked in your heart and the resounding vibrations brought to mind the person you never stopped loving. 

"Jacen, watch where you're going!" Hera called, breaking your train of thought.

The young boy with green hair and bright blue eyes bumped into you as he ran past.

"Sorry!" He called with a giggle, bounding down the decks with a toy starship in one hand and an old clone trooper doll in the other. 

Hera apologized and followed after him, while Rex nudged your shoulder and offered you a fresh bottle of ale. Smiling, you eagerly accepted the cold beverage and tapped your to his.

"Here's to the New Republic," you toasted.

"To the New Republic," he agreed. "You did good today, kid."

You couldn't help the reflexive chuckle thatrhat bubbled in your chest as you pulled deeply from your ale, "Rex, I'm in my 40s now. When are you going to stop calling me 'kid'?"

He laughed as well, "Old habits from an old clone. Still got that same fire in your belly though. Keeps you young."

Just as you opened your mouth to offer a witty reply, Jacen broke through the crowd calling your name.

"Come on, come on!" he eagerly grabbed your hand and started pulling you along. 

"Jacen, slow down, what's wrong?"

"Mom told me to find you! There's a trooper looking for you!"

"A trooper?" You and Rex exchanged a confused look. "What does he look like?"

"Like Rex, but he has a droid arm, and an implant in his head!"

Your chest tightened as you followed the boy. He wove through the noisy groups back to his mother, calling to her as soon as she came back in sight. Hera turned and waved you over wearing a wide smile. The sound of your thundering heart filled your ears as you neared. Jacen's tiny hand left yours as he darted for Hera's side, proudly showing her he had completed her task. 

"Thank you, such a helper," she praised, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Let's go find something to eat and give these two some privacy."

As she stepped away, revealing the mystery trooper, the world around you muted. Surely you were dreaming it, as you had some many times. It couldn't really Echo standing before you, aged at a faster rate as Rex had but still as inescapably handsome as you remembered. 

His wore was shorter than Rex's but somehow more black than white. He still wore his Clone Force 99 armor, though it had been modified to accommodate his healthier weight. The gaunt from his cheeks and dark circles under his hollowed eyes were gone, replaced with a fuller, robust glow. True to Jacen's word, his scomp arm was replaced by a prosthetic hand, which he extended out to you with a broad smile. Stepping closer you slid your fingers into his hand, and the servos whirled quietly as fingers closed around yours. 

"Is it really you?" your voice trembled as you cupped his cheek.

"I promised you I'd find you again," he huffed a chuckle. "I don't suppose you'd give an old clone the time of day. No doubt you've had to fight off those young Rebel pilots with a gaffi stick."

"They used to try, but none could compare to this trooper I once knew so they don't bother anymore," you flirted with a wink. "But I know how to take care of myself."

"Is that so?" he replied with a cocky, roguish grin. 

At the sight of that smile, something snapped inside you. You couldn't fight it any longer. Throwing your arms around his neck you kissed him with twenty plus years of pent up longing, desperation, and passion. He gripped you tightly, sighing deeply into your mouth as his tongue prodded your lips apart. Around you, there were chuckles and hoots of titillation. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours for a moment.

"I love you," you finally confessed the words that frightened you so badly in your youth.

"I love you," his brows softened for a moment before his eyes darkened with purpose. "Where's your ship?"

You turned and gestured toward trees, where your ship had landed with several others in a small clearing, "Over there, have something in-"

In an unexpected move, he hoisted you onto his shoulder, "I want to know if I'm still better than your vibrator."

A gasp of surprise escaped your throat at his action as he casually strode down the stairs and made a direct line for your ship. The rebels in the immediate vicinity cheered their praise loudly, knowing exactly what you were off to do. Your face burned as you caught Rex's chuckling, approving expression and he threw you a playful, two fingered salute. For as long as you had been apart, for the toll time had taken on you both, you knew without a shadow of a doubt, that nothing in the galaxy could compare with what was in store that night, and every night to come.

[twistedsarchive]

Just As Good? Part II

Pairing: TBB Echo x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Summary: The Batch finally gets some much needed shore leave, but emotions run high between you and Echo as your flirting is taken to the club and Echo catches up with the 501st.

Chapter Warnings: Pining, jealousy, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, stupid drunken decisions (kind of), Crosshair being a bit of a creep…but kinda not, thigh riding, suggested face sitting, a little vaginal fingering, almost exhibitionism in a couple places, a little edging, coitus interruptus.

Length: 5k

By the Maker, the team was getting shore leave. And not short leave on some backwater planet with nothing to do, shore leave on Coruscant. Your last mission had been close enough to the core that, with a little persuasion, Hunter agreed to visit the capital for a few rotations.

You’d never been to Coruscant before, well briefly once during your transfer from Saleucami to Kamino, but you never left the orbital station so it didn’t count. Although Crosshair sneered about taking shore leave ‘with the regs’, the rest seemed enthusiastic. You were giddy with excitement as you donned the only civilian clothes you had and grabbed your pack.

You set off to the markets while the others stayed at the base, hoping to catch up with Rex and Cody. Crosshair stayed behind, though you had no desire to pry into his activities. Later that night you’d all meet up at 79’s for a good time.

In the weeks that followed Echo’s kind repair of your device, it seemed he may return your feelings after all. He made more casual contact than he ever had before, placing a hand on your back if he was moving past you, or letting his leg brush against yours. Your conversations seemed to have more warmth and inflection to them, especially if you were alone. You might even dare to call it flirting. As small as those changes seemed, they hadn’t been there before. Rather than stiff and distant, it seemed he was relaxing toward you, which gave you a stir of hope.

That hope, perhaps foolishly, bloomed into an idea that was much easier to execute on Coruscant. After treating yourself to a real meal, which tasted like heaven compared to GAR rations, you spent the day meandering the second hand stores of the clothing district. With a bit of luck and the last of your spare credits, you found exactly what you were looking for.

Time had gotten away from you, and you were running late. The shopkeeper was kind enough to let you change and get ready in the dressing room. You had hoped to be able to run your pack back to the Marauder, but didn’t have the time. In truth, you doubted anyone would notice it anyway.

A wave of insecurity tumbled in your stomach as you exited the cab. You usually weren’t the type to dress up for a man’s attention more than your own desire to look and feel good, but this was different. This wasn’t just seeking validation from anywhere, though you could certainly feel the eyes of a number of trooper’s follow you as you approached the door. You had a purpose, you wanted one man’s attention and in that dress, you were sure to get it.

The club was packed and loud, more so than you expected. It seemed as though the groups at bar and the dance floor moved as a singular organism, working to achieve two simple tasks: get drunk and find someone to fuck. You skirted around the mass, eyes scanning for the five most unique clones in the place. Eventually you heard Wrecker’s booming voice and followed it to a booth in the back, near the hallway to the fresher and back store room.

Pausing for a moment, you found your confidence and sauntered to the team, letting your hips roll more than usual as you walked in your heels against the fabric of the sleeveless, high collared, but dangerously short dress you wore. Surprisingly, it was Crosshair who noticed you first, doing a doubt take, with his toothpick falling slack in his mouth for a moment. The others followed his line of sight to you as you neared.

“Woa-ho! Aren’t you gorgeous?” Wrecker boomed, jumping up so you could slide into the booth. “What are you drinking?”

You named your liquor of choice as you settled into your seat. Hunter kissed your cheek gently in greeting, while Tech nodded approvingly at your presence. Crosshair arched a brow at you then resumed his ritual scowl of contempt at the regs while sipping what looked like an expensive aged Corellian whiskey. Wrecker promptly returned with your drink, which by the smell had been distilled in a bathtub and pulled up a chair from another table.

“Where’s Echo?” you asked over the thundering din of the music.

“Catching up with the 501st for a bit. Said he’d be along later," Hunter explained into your ear.

You pulled from your glass of fume laden liquor and settled into playful banter with the batch. Eventually the door opened and a large group of troopers entered the club. You saw their armor was decorated with the telltale shade of 501st blue. Among them was Echo, who seemed more alive than you’d ever seen him. It was a sight that made your stomach flutter with excitement. He laughed and smiled freely among his brothers.

But your joy faded as they collected several rounds and found an empty table across the bar. He walked away without even noticing you. Feeling a touch dejected, you sat back and sipped your drink. To your surprise as you looked over the rim, you saw Crosshair watching you studying your face and reaction. Perhaps more surprising was that his normally critical eyes flashed with empathy before he returned to scowling at the regs.

You weren’t going to let it ruin your good time. Over the course of the night, Wrecker took you for a spin on the dance floor, which left the both of you laughing since your feet hadn’t touched the floor but he had no rhythm. After that, you won a bet to Tech to see how many nuts Crosshair could throw into a regs unattended drink at the next table before he noticed. Then you lost a staring contest with Hunter, because you cheated by sliding your hand dangerously up your own thigh, a motion he couldn’t help but glance at under the circumstances.

As you relaxed, you continued soothing the sting of your hurt feelings with cheap liquor. The fumes stopped making your nose burn on the second one. By the third one you stopped tasting it, and as you finished your fourth double, you decided it was actually pretty good and retrieved a fifth.

As the hours passed, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech found fairer company and left the table until eventually you were left next to Crosshair. The two of you never talked much. You more or less assumed he didn’t like you and he certainly wasn’t your favorite person, but you worked together well enough. You weren’t sure if it was the dress or the steady stream of booze you both consumed, but his company was almost enjoyable.

You turned your head to the still boisterous 501st table and saw a gorgeous, violet hued Twi'lek wearing even less than you had planted herself in his lap. You ignored the stab in your chest as she whispered to him and traced her fingers along his sharp jaw and neck. But as her hand slid down his chest and deep onto his lap, you dragged your eyes away and squeezed them shut to stop the stinging tears from forming.

“Don’t let his stupidity cause you pain,” Crosshair murmured in your ear. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You opened your eyes and found him at your side, only a breath of space between his body and yours. His eyes were fixed in your face as an arm draped across the back of the booth. You’d never been so close to the sniper before and didn’t know what to do, except that you didn’t want to move away. The heat radiating off his body felt good, it was something you had been missing for quite some time.

The sweet twinge of whiskey lingered on his breath. Your mouth was suddenly dry and your heart pounded against your chest. Being so close to him felt dangerous but exhilarating. It was probably the booze and the hurt encouraging you, but you were suddenly consumed with the overwhelming desire to have his hands on your hot skin. You unconsciously ran your tongue across your lips. His eyes flicked to your mouth as you did so and rumble slipped from his chest.

“Crosshair…I’m drunk enough to want to do something irrational and stupid," you confessed.

“Is that so?” he leaned into your ear, lips ghosting, gloved fingers tracing circles in your exposed inner thigh. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

A breath hitched in your chest as heat suddenly flooded your core. You turned your face to his, noses grazing and lips nearly touching. He sucked in a breath, taken off guard by your abrupt move.

“Take me back to the ship,” you all but moaned. “Take me back to the ship and fuck me.”

His hand stilled and gripped your thigh. The glint in his eyes said he wanted to, but something held him back for a moment. You knew your eyes were glassy with intoxication and it wasn’t a decision you would have made in the light of day, but Maker you needed something. Despite the flashing lights and deafening music, you were so focused on him, that everything else fell away.

Your lips parted as your breasts heaved beneath your dress with anticipation. Crosshair slowly leaned down to you, just as ensnared in the alluring pull of the energy between you. His lips brushed yours, gently at first, but then needy and hungry and you responded in kind. The hand on your thigh slid upward as his tongue pushed your lips apart and swept in your mouth. As fingers grazed your wet, molten heat, he suddenly realized you weren’t wearing anything under your dress. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation of the rough fabric against your slicked folds.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, pupils wide and lustful in the dark room. You held his eyes, shifting your legs further apart, waiting for him to return. Instead he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the booth. Between his long legs and your heels, you struggled to keep up with his pace, so he hoisted you over his shoulder. You yelped and giggled as he carried you from the club, suddenly thrilled to find out what the night had in store for you.

Echo sighed internally. Part of him had always wondered if joining Clone Force 99 was really the right thing to do. It was a split second decision made after being freed from capture. He had hardly been able to sort through the reality of his existence and he chose to walk away from the 501st. However, after spending the day with his former battalion, he was confident it was.

He had enjoyed the company of his brothers at the base. Catching up with Rex, Jesse, and Kix had been something he wanted to do for a long time. And he happily agreed to join them for a round or two at 79’s before rejoining the rest of the Batch, but the night hadn’t turned out that way.

He saw you the moment he walked in the door and his heart stopped beating in his chest for a moment. You looked beautiful, sexy. No, those words didn’t even begin to describe it. You looked… seductive and confident with a touch of predatory danger. He knew immediately you weren’t dressing that way to bring the men flocking to you, though they surely would have if you’d ventured to the bar alone. With the way you looked toward him, he knew exactly who it was for and it made his stomach flutter and cock ache.

But one drink with the 501st turned into another, then a third and a fourth. Round after round of freely flowing alcohol came and went. One story led to another, then another. The tale of the Domino Twins, Echo and Fives and their adventures as ARC troopers.

Shinies asked slurring, unabashed questions about the Citadel, his rewired body, had he heard about Fives? All the things he didn’t wish to discuss were suddenly drunken fodder. He answered what he could and deflected the rest, all while the insecurity he struggled with came seeping back in through his drunken haze.

Everytime he tried to make his exit from the table, someone would insist on a parting shot, which led into another story about a battle he hadn’t seen. He’d be trapped for the duration, which led to another last drink and on and on it went.

Jesse, in his well meaning way, thought Echo looked lonely and made it his personal mission to get him laid. In truth that was exactly what Echo had hoped, but with you, not the Twi'lek that landed in his lap uninvited. She wore little more than strategically placed straps of folded linen which sometimes didn’t follow her body’s movements.

He was fairly certain her company was hourly though try as he might, he couldn’t get her off his lap, short of shoving her away. When she leaned down to kiss his face and neck, the smell of her cheap perfume overwhelmed his senses. The sigh he gave at the offending smell was misinterpreted as a wanton moan, so she unceremoniously grabbed his cock under his codpiece.

Echo knew you saw it, and hated that you had. What you didn’t see, was that he instantly snatched her wrist from his groin and pulled it away. You didn’t see the stern glare you gave her or then the angry words telling her to get off his lap. She immediately complied and stormed away toward better prospects. He wiped his hand across his face to rid himself of the lingering traces of unwanted affection and stood, determined to spend what remained of the night with you.

Then his heart sank.

As he looked across the bar, he saw you and Crosshair, talking intimately. One of his arms was raised, resting on the booth. Although he couldn’t see the other, by the way you were breathing, it wasn’t hard to figure out where his hand was. He took a step toward the table but stopped when he kissed you long and deep, and you invited him for more. His gut twisted with jealousy as he pulled you from the booth and carried you out of the club, knowing exactly what you were going off to do.

Crosshair sat back and released a contented sigh. He was never a man to indulge himself much, shore leave being the only exception, really. Initially he loathed the idea of shore leave on Coruscant, but it seemed the day was full of surprises that worked in his favor.

He sat on the open ramp of the Marauder, reclined and savoring the bouquet of the burning leaves in the warm summer air. Smoke pulled around him as he took a drag from one of the thin cigars he had purchased earlier that day. Indeed, Coruscant had a wide selection of shops to choose from and he found what was quite possibly his new favorite blend.

A cab pulled up to the deck and Echo stepped out, an angry expression on his face as he stormed to the sniper.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Crosshair took a sizable puff and blew a series of smoke rings at Echo before replying, “Where’s whom?”

He fanned the smoke away, “You know who.”

“Ooooh…her," he drawled with a wink after feigning thought. “She’s inside…sleeping it off.”

“Crosshair, if you put one hand on her-”

He chuckled coldly, “You really think I did anything she didn’t want me to? She was begging me to-”

“She was drunk," it was all he could do not to swing at his brother.

“And she knew it, too," he puffed on his cigar. “She’s a big girl, Echo. She knew what she was doing. You’re the one that wanted to spend the evening with a prostitute.”

“I tried to get away, but couldn’t.”

“You didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight. For as badly as you pine after her and the way she dressed - for you of all people - you just couldn’t get away from that table? Really?”

He opened his mouth to reply but the words got stuck. As much as he wanted to deny it, deep down he knew Crosshair was right. With a defeated sigh, his eyes fell. It was almost painful to give his brother the satisfaction of being right.

“You still took advantage of her,” Echo pushed past him and entered the ship.

He turned to the bunks. To his surprise, you were passed out on your bed, still in your dress with a blanket half covering your body, shoes at the foot of your bed. You snored away, oblivious to everything around you, safe and unharmed. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized the sniper, bastard that he was, was only talking to get a rise out of him. Pulling the blanket over your shoulder, he pulled your privacy curtain closed.

“Of all the things I am…” Crosshair said quietly from behind him, “I’m not that kind of man.”

Echo stepped aside so he could pass and duck into his bunk, “You kissed her.”

“Aside from what you saw in the club, nothing happened. I did what I had to do to get her to leave with me and sleep it off somewhere safe. I wasn’t the one she really wanted anyway. She was certainly persistent before she finally passed out. Would you rather I had rejected her too and sent her off to some regs for the night?”

“No," he admitted quietly. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t do it for you. She’s tolerable to be around and knows what she’s doing in the field. I don’t want to have to break in a new one," Crosshair scoffed in reply but gave one last remark before rolling into his bunk. “Either make a move or let her go. She deserves better than to be left guessing.”

As much as he didn’t want to agree, Crosshair was right. You deserved to know, especially with the way he behaved that night. Too mentally worked up to sleep, he went to the cockpit to think, hoping he’d find the right words by morning.

Morning slammed into your head like a tank. You had barely opened your eyes and realized before the skull splitting pain began. It felt like the entire Grand Army was doing a parade march across your forehead. You groaned and rolled over in your bunk, trying to tie together the thousand loose strands of the prior night into a cohesive memory.

Nothing made sense. How much did you have to drink? Your mouth was filled with cotton and sand. As you sat up on your elbows and waited for the ship to stop spinning, you put together what you could.

Your shoes were at the foot of your bed. You were still in the absurdly skimpy dress you planned to burn as soon as it was off your body. How did you get back to the ship? The last thing you remembered was watching Echo get a massage from a Twi'lek and turning to-Oh, Maker. It was coming back to you. There were still pieces missing but you distinctly remember asking Crosshair to take you back to the ship and-

“So, you’re still alive after all,” Hunter chuckled from the edge of the bunks.

“What time is it?” you croaked.

“Mid-morning, and we’re shipping out within the hour. An urgent mission came in. Are you going to be ready?”

“Yes, sir " you clipped. “Just need a shower and a cup of bad caff and I’ll be ready.”

He chuckled lightly and handed her a mug, “I can help with part of that. We’re headed to the base for supplies. Won’t be gone long.”

Downing the half cold, bitter brew in a single gulp, you hopped down from your bunk and collected your shower kit from your locker. Crosshair exited the fresher and you froze when you turned. Embarrassment flashed across your face as you remembered more acutely the cab ride back to the ship and your desperate pleas for him to put his hands on you.

“You look like shit," he greeted matter-of-factly.

“I feel like shit. Crosshair, last night did we…” although you trailed off, you gestured toward the bunks to finish asking the question. “I remember what happened in the club but it gets hazy after that.”

He nodded once and pulled the case of toothpicks from a belt pouch, “Well I was sober, and nothing happened. You must have been dreaming about me.”

With a wink he departed the ship. You sealed the door and took a much needed shower. The steam helped immensely to clear your throbbing head, though it did nothing to help the throbbing between your legs. Despite Crosshair’s claim, something definitely happened that had you wound so tightly you couldn’t think straight. Checking the time, you decided you’d better take the opportunity to clear your head before the boys got back and before you were in the field.

Wrapped in a towel, you went back to your bunk in search of your pack. It wasn’t there. Searching your locker, the other bunks, anywhere you could think, it was nowhere to be found. Where did you-

“Shit!” you swore aloud upon realizing you left it at the club.

Aside from holding your only set of civilian clothes, holopad and credentials, you had taken that particular device to the market in search of a spare battery and charging cable. More than wanting it back for your own use, you were mortified at the possibility of someone finding your pack and looking inside.

Throwing on your armor, your only option aside from that ridiculous dress, you opened the hatch. There was time. You could make there and back before they returned. They wouldn’t leave without you, right? You were so distracted you didn’t see Echo bounding up the ramp and collided with him as you turned to exit the ship.

He grabbed your arm to keep you from falling as you reeled back with a turn, but your movements knocked him off balance into you. Your back hit the wall, and he caught himself with his prosthetic forearm before crashing into you. Even through his helmet, you felt his burning eyes and thought you heard him breathing faster too as your bodies lingered against one another. As he held your gaze, he pulled your pack from across his chest and set it on the floor.

His hips drifted against yours, as a knee pressed against your legs. You shifted a foot, opening your legs further and shifting your hips forward. Your breath suddenly quickened when he didn’t immediately pull away as you assumed he would. Heat pooled in your belly and rose in your face with his leg slotted between your thighs. He removed his bucket to look you in the eye, making your pulse thrum.

His gaze stayed on your face as he shifted his leg, pressing the ridged armor plate against your core. An audible, breathy moan slipped through his lips at the tease of satisfying friction. Dropping his leg, he lifted his knee again, more deliberately, giving you another hit of pressure where you needed it most. You bit your lower lip to restrain the wanton moan that bubbled in your chest.

He leaned in, a hot breath puffed in your cheek and you knew he heard rapid breathing… perhaps even saw your fluttering pulse on your neck. His nose brushed against your hair, lips ghosting across the thin skin of your neck. You shifted your weight, trying to give more friction to your swollen, aching clit.

The cant of your hips encouraged him to rock his knee back and forth. Biting back a moan, your hand flew to your mouth to keep quiet. In a swift motion, he released his helmet and snatched your wrist, pulling your mouth free and pinning your arm against the wall.

His eyes were dark with want, “I want to hear every sound you make, unless you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop," you begged, fire igniting in your belly.

“Say it,” his lips ghosted across your ear, teeth grazing the soft lobe as he exhaled.

“Make me come," you gasped. “Echo, please make me come.”

“Is this what I do when you fantasize about me in the shower? Pin you against a wall until you’re dripping around my leg?” he grunted, lifting his leg sharply.

“Yes!” you drew out in a long, loud moan, loudly, desperately unsatisfied with feeling him through so many protective layers.

You began pulling at your armor with your free hand. Upon realizing what you wanted, he released your wrist and began helping free your soft flesh. Plastoid piece after plastoid piece clattered to the deck, yours and his mixed in a single heap. As your gear dropped away, he began nipping at your neck, grinding his thigh and rutting his hips against you in a single, mind blowing motion.

Desperate moans escaped his lips as his own long fantasy quickly became a reality. He pulled back as you reached between your bodies, ripping the shirt of your shirt overhead. In your haste to dress, you didn’t bother with a binder. Your tits bounced freely with the motion. Echo groaned at the sight. You were even more beautiful than he imagined. Biting his glove he hastily freed his hand and greedily grabbed your breast.

His middle finger circled the base of your nipple, teasing the pebbled surface, occasionally brushing a calloused thumb over the stiffening peak. All the while his lips and tongue caressed your neck and jaw. The teasing was setting you ablaze, arousal soaking your body glove as you rode his thigh. Incoherent praises fell from your mouth as your release built impossibly tight. When his fingers finally closed around your nipple, he pushed his lips onto yours.

The heat of his kiss as his tongue prodding your lips open, combined with his lavishing touch left you moaning into his mouth. You couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking your groin plate free and dropping it, hands latched onto his cuirass for leverage, unabashed by your own desire as you ground onto his leg.

“Maker, you're beautiful,” he groaned, marveling at your moaning, undone state, for him no less. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long.”

You were so close, achingly close, teetering on the edge. Your moans turned guttural and ravenous.

“I want you, Echo," you demanded. “Fuck me now.”

He eagerly pulled his leg away, stripped off your cuisses and pulled the waist of your body glove down to your knees. You turned your back to him at his eager prompt as he pulled your hips out, smoothing his hand down your back and across your buttocks. His fingers slid through your dripping folds, drawing a hiss from his teeth.

“Do you always get this wet over me?”

“Yes, always," you gulped a moan as his middle finger circled your swollen clit before teasing just the inside of your entrance.

“I’ve dreamed of you riding my face, coming so hard it runs down my neck," he nipped your shoulder and the back of your neck. “Next time, mesh'la.”

Your thighs trembled and your engorged cunt clenched around nothing, “Hells, Echo, please…I’m begging you.”

With a smug smirk, freed his weeping cock and began pushing into your drenched, throbbing pussy. Just as his blunt head breached your tight entrance, finally delivering the fullness and stretch you were clenching for, a shuttle landed outside. He jerked his head back and withdrew from your folds.

“Shit, they’re back sooner than I expected,” he hissed, stuffing his length away and clapping his codpiece back on.

“Wh-what?! No, no-no-no-!” you pleaded. Being left in such a state was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Unless you want an audience…” he replied, giving your nipple one last squeeze and tug. “I swear I will make it up to you.”

You growling angrily. Eyes crossing in frustration, you yanked your pants back up. The middle seam grazed your painfully swollen clit, nearly bringing you to your knees. Together you gathered your gear and he helped you get dressed. Outside you could hear the approaching voices of the rest of the Batch.

“You better take a minute in the fresher,” Echo chuckled as he smoothed a hand across your ruffled hair.

On impulse, you pulled him in close for one last, deep kiss before darting to the fresher. The door latched just as their boots hit the ramp. Locking it, you rested your sweat dappled forehead on the cold durasteel. Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself and laughed at your fucked out appearance.

Your face was hot and sweaty from the intensity of your arousal. In your panic to leave the ship, you hadn’t dried your hair. Between air drying halfway and getting pushed into the bulkhead for who knows how long, it was a knotted mess again. Raking your fingers through as best you could, you quickly straightened yourself.

After splashing cold water in your face, you exited the privy. Echo was talking to Hunter, Tech was walking to the cockpit, Wrecker was securing the supplies, and Crosshair caught your eye with a smug grin before following Tech. Your helmet and pack were on your bunk in the place you always kept them. It suddenly dawned on you Echo had retrieved it for you.

As the ship readied to take off, the others made their way to the cockpit to strap in. Taking a moment, you checked inside your pack and we’re relieved to see all your belongings were still there. A breath escaped your lips, but at the return of your pack and an attempt to steady your electrified nerves.

“Don’t go using that now,” Echo whispered in the shell of your ear as his hand slid low across the front of your hips. “I plan to finish what I started.”

Your eyes shot to him to find his glowing with the same hungry lust as your own. Flashing a quick, dusky smile, he turned for the cockpit. Suddenly your mouth was parched and your ears. Biting your lip, you shoved your head into your helmet to hide your arousal and followed him.

Nine Hells, it was going to be a long mission.

[dumfanting]

I love this chapter so much, I think about it a lot.

Of all the things I am, I am not that kind of man.

It’s such a good line and I can almost hear his voice when I read it.

Looking back, I can see how Crosshair and Echo’s interaction after the bar has kind of painted the way I wrote their early dynamic, and I mean that as the highest compliment.

[twistedsarchive]

Aahhh thank you so much!!!

I loved writing this exchange, and it continues to be one of my favorites.

And for it to have influence on your own work? You are so kind. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story all over again. I am too!

[twistedsarchive]

Just As Good? Part II

Pairing: TBB Echo x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Summary: The Batch finally gets some much needed shore leave, but emotions run high between you and Echo as your flirting is taken to the club and Echo catches up with the 501st.

Chapter Warnings: Pining, jealousy, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, stupid drunken decisions (kind of), Crosshair being a bit of a creep…but kinda not, thigh riding, suggested face sitting, a little vaginal fingering, almost exhibitionism in a couple places, a little edging, coitus interruptus.

Length: 5k

By the Maker, the team was getting shore leave. And not short leave on some backwater planet with nothing to do, shore leave on Coruscant. Your last mission had been close enough to the core that, with a little persuasion, Hunter agreed to visit the capital for a few rotations.

You’d never been to Coruscant before, well briefly once during your transfer from Saleucami to Kamino, but you never left the orbital station so it didn’t count. Although Crosshair sneered about taking shore leave ‘with the regs’, the rest seemed enthusiastic. You were giddy with excitement as you donned the only civilian clothes you had and grabbed your pack.

You set off to the markets while the others stayed at the base, hoping to catch up with Rex and Cody. Crosshair stayed behind, though you had no desire to pry into his activities. Later that night you’d all meet up at 79’s for a good time.

In the weeks that followed Echo’s kind repair of your device, it seemed he may return your feelings after all. He made more casual contact than he ever had before, placing a hand on your back if he was moving past you, or letting his leg brush against yours. Your conversations seemed to have more warmth and inflection to them, especially if you were alone. You might even dare to call it flirting. As small as those changes seemed, they hadn’t been there before. Rather than stiff and distant, it seemed he was relaxing toward you, which gave you a stir of hope.

That hope, perhaps foolishly, bloomed into an idea that was much easier to execute on Coruscant. After treating yourself to a real meal, which tasted like heaven compared to GAR rations, you spent the day meandering the second hand stores of the clothing district. With a bit of luck and the last of your spare credits, you found exactly what you were looking for.

Time had gotten away from you, and you were running late. The shopkeeper was kind enough to let you change and get ready in the dressing room. You had hoped to be able to run your pack back to the Marauder, but didn’t have the time. In truth, you doubted anyone would notice it anyway.

A wave of insecurity tumbled in your stomach as you exited the cab. You usually weren’t the type to dress up for a man’s attention more than your own desire to look and feel good, but this was different. This wasn’t just seeking validation from anywhere, though you could certainly feel the eyes of a number of trooper’s follow you as you approached the door. You had a purpose, you wanted one man’s attention and in that dress, you were sure to get it.

The club was packed and loud, more so than you expected. It seemed as though the groups at bar and the dance floor moved as a singular organism, working to achieve two simple tasks: get drunk and find someone to fuck. You skirted around the mass, eyes scanning for the five most unique clones in the place. Eventually you heard Wrecker’s booming voice and followed it to a booth in the back, near the hallway to the fresher and back store room.

Pausing for a moment, you found your confidence and sauntered to the team, letting your hips roll more than usual as you walked in your heels against the fabric of the sleeveless, high collared, but dangerously short dress you wore. Surprisingly, it was Crosshair who noticed you first, doing a doubt take, with his toothpick falling slack in his mouth for a moment. The others followed his line of sight to you as you neared.

“Woa-ho! Aren’t you gorgeous?” Wrecker boomed, jumping up so you could slide into the booth. “What are you drinking?”

You named your liquor of choice as you settled into your seat. Hunter kissed your cheek gently in greeting, while Tech nodded approvingly at your presence. Crosshair arched a brow at you then resumed his ritual scowl of contempt at the regs while sipping what looked like an expensive aged Corellian whiskey. Wrecker promptly returned with your drink, which by the smell had been distilled in a bathtub and pulled up a chair from another table.

“Where’s Echo?” you asked over the thundering din of the music.

“Catching up with the 501st for a bit. Said he’d be along later," Hunter explained into your ear.

You pulled from your glass of fume laden liquor and settled into playful banter with the batch. Eventually the door opened and a large group of troopers entered the club. You saw their armor was decorated with the telltale shade of 501st blue. Among them was Echo, who seemed more alive than you’d ever seen him. It was a sight that made your stomach flutter with excitement. He laughed and smiled freely among his brothers.

But your joy faded as they collected several rounds and found an empty table across the bar. He walked away without even noticing you. Feeling a touch dejected, you sat back and sipped your drink. To your surprise as you looked over the rim, you saw Crosshair watching you studying your face and reaction. Perhaps more surprising was that his normally critical eyes flashed with empathy before he returned to scowling at the regs.

You weren’t going to let it ruin your good time. Over the course of the night, Wrecker took you for a spin on the dance floor, which left the both of you laughing since your feet hadn’t touched the floor but he had no rhythm. After that, you won a bet to Tech to see how many nuts Crosshair could throw into a regs unattended drink at the next table before he noticed. Then you lost a staring contest with Hunter, because you cheated by sliding your hand dangerously up your own thigh, a motion he couldn’t help but glance at under the circumstances.

As you relaxed, you continued soothing the sting of your hurt feelings with cheap liquor. The fumes stopped making your nose burn on the second one. By the third one you stopped tasting it, and as you finished your fourth double, you decided it was actually pretty good and retrieved a fifth.

As the hours passed, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech found fairer company and left the table until eventually you were left next to Crosshair. The two of you never talked much. You more or less assumed he didn’t like you and he certainly wasn’t your favorite person, but you worked together well enough. You weren’t sure if it was the dress or the steady stream of booze you both consumed, but his company was almost enjoyable.

You turned your head to the still boisterous 501st table and saw a gorgeous, violet hued Twi'lek wearing even less than you had planted herself in his lap. You ignored the stab in your chest as she whispered to him and traced her fingers along his sharp jaw and neck. But as her hand slid down his chest and deep onto his lap, you dragged your eyes away and squeezed them shut to stop the stinging tears from forming.

“Don’t let his stupidity cause you pain,” Crosshair murmured in your ear. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You opened your eyes and found him at your side, only a breath of space between his body and yours. His eyes were fixed in your face as an arm draped across the back of the booth. You’d never been so close to the sniper before and didn’t know what to do, except that you didn’t want to move away. The heat radiating off his body felt good, it was something you had been missing for quite some time.

The sweet twinge of whiskey lingered on his breath. Your mouth was suddenly dry and your heart pounded against your chest. Being so close to him felt dangerous but exhilarating. It was probably the booze and the hurt encouraging you, but you were suddenly consumed with the overwhelming desire to have his hands on your hot skin. You unconsciously ran your tongue across your lips. His eyes flicked to your mouth as you did so and rumble slipped from his chest.

“Crosshair…I’m drunk enough to want to do something irrational and stupid," you confessed.

“Is that so?” he leaned into your ear, lips ghosting, gloved fingers tracing circles in your exposed inner thigh. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

A breath hitched in your chest as heat suddenly flooded your core. You turned your face to his, noses grazing and lips nearly touching. He sucked in a breath, taken off guard by your abrupt move.

“Take me back to the ship,” you all but moaned. “Take me back to the ship and fuck me.”

His hand stilled and gripped your thigh. The glint in his eyes said he wanted to, but something held him back for a moment. You knew your eyes were glassy with intoxication and it wasn’t a decision you would have made in the light of day, but Maker you needed something. Despite the flashing lights and deafening music, you were so focused on him, that everything else fell away.

Your lips parted as your breasts heaved beneath your dress with anticipation. Crosshair slowly leaned down to you, just as ensnared in the alluring pull of the energy between you. His lips brushed yours, gently at first, but then needy and hungry and you responded in kind. The hand on your thigh slid upward as his tongue pushed your lips apart and swept in your mouth. As fingers grazed your wet, molten heat, he suddenly realized you weren’t wearing anything under your dress. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation of the rough fabric against your slicked folds.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, pupils wide and lustful in the dark room. You held his eyes, shifting your legs further apart, waiting for him to return. Instead he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the booth. Between his long legs and your heels, you struggled to keep up with his pace, so he hoisted you over his shoulder. You yelped and giggled as he carried you from the club, suddenly thrilled to find out what the night had in store for you.

Echo sighed internally. Part of him had always wondered if joining Clone Force 99 was really the right thing to do. It was a split second decision made after being freed from capture. He had hardly been able to sort through the reality of his existence and he chose to walk away from the 501st. However, after spending the day with his former battalion, he was confident it was.

He had enjoyed the company of his brothers at the base. Catching up with Rex, Jesse, and Kix had been something he wanted to do for a long time. And he happily agreed to join them for a round or two at 79’s before rejoining the rest of the Batch, but the night hadn’t turned out that way.

He saw you the moment he walked in the door and his heart stopped beating in his chest for a moment. You looked beautiful, sexy. No, those words didn’t even begin to describe it. You looked… seductive and confident with a touch of predatory danger. He knew immediately you weren’t dressing that way to bring the men flocking to you, though they surely would have if you’d ventured to the bar alone. With the way you looked toward him, he knew exactly who it was for and it made his stomach flutter and cock ache.

But one drink with the 501st turned into another, then a third and a fourth. Round after round of freely flowing alcohol came and went. One story led to another, then another. The tale of the Domino Twins, Echo and Fives and their adventures as ARC troopers.

Shinies asked slurring, unabashed questions about the Citadel, his rewired body, had he heard about Fives? All the things he didn’t wish to discuss were suddenly drunken fodder. He answered what he could and deflected the rest, all while the insecurity he struggled with came seeping back in through his drunken haze.

Everytime he tried to make his exit from the table, someone would insist on a parting shot, which led into another story about a battle he hadn’t seen. He’d be trapped for the duration, which led to another last drink and on and on it went.

Jesse, in his well meaning way, thought Echo looked lonely and made it his personal mission to get him laid. In truth that was exactly what Echo had hoped, but with you, not the Twi'lek that landed in his lap uninvited. She wore little more than strategically placed straps of folded linen which sometimes didn’t follow her body’s movements.

He was fairly certain her company was hourly though try as he might, he couldn’t get her off his lap, short of shoving her away. When she leaned down to kiss his face and neck, the smell of her cheap perfume overwhelmed his senses. The sigh he gave at the offending smell was misinterpreted as a wanton moan, so she unceremoniously grabbed his cock under his codpiece.

Echo knew you saw it, and hated that you had. What you didn’t see, was that he instantly snatched her wrist from his groin and pulled it away. You didn’t see the stern glare you gave her or then the angry words telling her to get off his lap. She immediately complied and stormed away toward better prospects. He wiped his hand across his face to rid himself of the lingering traces of unwanted affection and stood, determined to spend what remained of the night with you.

Then his heart sank.

As he looked across the bar, he saw you and Crosshair, talking intimately. One of his arms was raised, resting on the booth. Although he couldn’t see the other, by the way you were breathing, it wasn’t hard to figure out where his hand was. He took a step toward the table but stopped when he kissed you long and deep, and you invited him for more. His gut twisted with jealousy as he pulled you from the booth and carried you out of the club, knowing exactly what you were going off to do.

Crosshair sat back and released a contented sigh. He was never a man to indulge himself much, shore leave being the only exception, really. Initially he loathed the idea of shore leave on Coruscant, but it seemed the day was full of surprises that worked in his favor.

He sat on the open ramp of the Marauder, reclined and savoring the bouquet of the burning leaves in the warm summer air. Smoke pulled around him as he took a drag from one of the thin cigars he had purchased earlier that day. Indeed, Coruscant had a wide selection of shops to choose from and he found what was quite possibly his new favorite blend.

A cab pulled up to the deck and Echo stepped out, an angry expression on his face as he stormed to the sniper.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Crosshair took a sizable puff and blew a series of smoke rings at Echo before replying, “Where’s whom?”

He fanned the smoke away, “You know who.”

“Ooooh…her," he drawled with a wink after feigning thought. “She’s inside…sleeping it off.”

“Crosshair, if you put one hand on her-”

He chuckled coldly, “You really think I did anything she didn’t want me to? She was begging me to-”

“She was drunk," it was all he could do not to swing at his brother.

“And she knew it, too," he puffed on his cigar. “She’s a big girl, Echo. She knew what she was doing. You’re the one that wanted to spend the evening with a prostitute.”

“I tried to get away, but couldn’t.”

“You didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight. For as badly as you pine after her and the way she dressed - for you of all people - you just couldn’t get away from that table? Really?”

He opened his mouth to reply but the words got stuck. As much as he wanted to deny it, deep down he knew Crosshair was right. With a defeated sigh, his eyes fell. It was almost painful to give his brother the satisfaction of being right.

“You still took advantage of her,” Echo pushed past him and entered the ship.

He turned to the bunks. To his surprise, you were passed out on your bed, still in your dress with a blanket half covering your body, shoes at the foot of your bed. You snored away, oblivious to everything around you, safe and unharmed. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized the sniper, bastard that he was, was only talking to get a rise out of him. Pulling the blanket over your shoulder, he pulled your privacy curtain closed.

“Of all the things I am…” Crosshair said quietly from behind him, “I’m not that kind of man.”

Echo stepped aside so he could pass and duck into his bunk, “You kissed her.”

“Aside from what you saw in the club, nothing happened. I did what I had to do to get her to leave with me and sleep it off somewhere safe. I wasn’t the one she really wanted anyway. She was certainly persistent before she finally passed out. Would you rather I had rejected her too and sent her off to some regs for the night?”

“No," he admitted quietly. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t do it for you. She’s tolerable to be around and knows what she’s doing in the field. I don’t want to have to break in a new one," Crosshair scoffed in reply but gave one last remark before rolling into his bunk. “Either make a move or let her go. She deserves better than to be left guessing.”

As much as he didn’t want to agree, Crosshair was right. You deserved to know, especially with the way he behaved that night. Too mentally worked up to sleep, he went to the cockpit to think, hoping he’d find the right words by morning.

Morning slammed into your head like a tank. You had barely opened your eyes and realized before the skull splitting pain began. It felt like the entire Grand Army was doing a parade march across your forehead. You groaned and rolled over in your bunk, trying to tie together the thousand loose strands of the prior night into a cohesive memory.

Nothing made sense. How much did you have to drink? Your mouth was filled with cotton and sand. As you sat up on your elbows and waited for the ship to stop spinning, you put together what you could.

Your shoes were at the foot of your bed. You were still in the absurdly skimpy dress you planned to burn as soon as it was off your body. How did you get back to the ship? The last thing you remembered was watching Echo get a massage from a Twi'lek and turning to-Oh, Maker. It was coming back to you. There were still pieces missing but you distinctly remember asking Crosshair to take you back to the ship and-

“So, you’re still alive after all,” Hunter chuckled from the edge of the bunks.

“What time is it?” you croaked.

“Mid-morning, and we’re shipping out within the hour. An urgent mission came in. Are you going to be ready?”

“Yes, sir " you clipped. “Just need a shower and a cup of bad caff and I’ll be ready.”

He chuckled lightly and handed her a mug, “I can help with part of that. We’re headed to the base for supplies. Won’t be gone long.”

Downing the half cold, bitter brew in a single gulp, you hopped down from your bunk and collected your shower kit from your locker. Crosshair exited the fresher and you froze when you turned. Embarrassment flashed across your face as you remembered more acutely the cab ride back to the ship and your desperate pleas for him to put his hands on you.

“You look like shit," he greeted matter-of-factly.

“I feel like shit. Crosshair, last night did we…” although you trailed off, you gestured toward the bunks to finish asking the question. “I remember what happened in the club but it gets hazy after that.”

He nodded once and pulled the case of toothpicks from a belt pouch, “Well I was sober, and nothing happened. You must have been dreaming about me.”

With a wink he departed the ship. You sealed the door and took a much needed shower. The steam helped immensely to clear your throbbing head, though it did nothing to help the throbbing between your legs. Despite Crosshair’s claim, something definitely happened that had you wound so tightly you couldn’t think straight. Checking the time, you decided you’d better take the opportunity to clear your head before the boys got back and before you were in the field.

Wrapped in a towel, you went back to your bunk in search of your pack. It wasn’t there. Searching your locker, the other bunks, anywhere you could think, it was nowhere to be found. Where did you-

“Shit!” you swore aloud upon realizing you left it at the club.

Aside from holding your only set of civilian clothes, holopad and credentials, you had taken that particular device to the market in search of a spare battery and charging cable. More than wanting it back for your own use, you were mortified at the possibility of someone finding your pack and looking inside.

Throwing on your armor, your only option aside from that ridiculous dress, you opened the hatch. There was time. You could make there and back before they returned. They wouldn’t leave without you, right? You were so distracted you didn’t see Echo bounding up the ramp and collided with him as you turned to exit the ship.

He grabbed your arm to keep you from falling as you reeled back with a turn, but your movements knocked him off balance into you. Your back hit the wall, and he caught himself with his prosthetic forearm before crashing into you. Even through his helmet, you felt his burning eyes and thought you heard him breathing faster too as your bodies lingered against one another. As he held your gaze, he pulled your pack from across his chest and set it on the floor.

His hips drifted against yours, as a knee pressed against your legs. You shifted a foot, opening your legs further and shifting your hips forward. Your breath suddenly quickened when he didn’t immediately pull away as you assumed he would. Heat pooled in your belly and rose in your face with his leg slotted between your thighs. He removed his bucket to look you in the eye, making your pulse thrum.

His gaze stayed on your face as he shifted his leg, pressing the ridged armor plate against your core. An audible, breathy moan slipped through his lips at the tease of satisfying friction. Dropping his leg, he lifted his knee again, more deliberately, giving you another hit of pressure where you needed it most. You bit your lower lip to restrain the wanton moan that bubbled in your chest.

He leaned in, a hot breath puffed in your cheek and you knew he heard rapid breathing… perhaps even saw your fluttering pulse on your neck. His nose brushed against your hair, lips ghosting across the thin skin of your neck. You shifted your weight, trying to give more friction to your swollen, aching clit.

The cant of your hips encouraged him to rock his knee back and forth. Biting back a moan, your hand flew to your mouth to keep quiet. In a swift motion, he released his helmet and snatched your wrist, pulling your mouth free and pinning your arm against the wall.

His eyes were dark with want, “I want to hear every sound you make, unless you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop," you begged, fire igniting in your belly.

“Say it,” his lips ghosted across your ear, teeth grazing the soft lobe as he exhaled.

“Make me come," you gasped. “Echo, please make me come.”

“Is this what I do when you fantasize about me in the shower? Pin you against a wall until you’re dripping around my leg?” he grunted, lifting his leg sharply.

“Yes!” you drew out in a long, loud moan, loudly, desperately unsatisfied with feeling him through so many protective layers.

You began pulling at your armor with your free hand. Upon realizing what you wanted, he released your wrist and began helping free your soft flesh. Plastoid piece after plastoid piece clattered to the deck, yours and his mixed in a single heap. As your gear dropped away, he began nipping at your neck, grinding his thigh and rutting his hips against you in a single, mind blowing motion.

Desperate moans escaped his lips as his own long fantasy quickly became a reality. He pulled back as you reached between your bodies, ripping the shirt of your shirt overhead. In your haste to dress, you didn’t bother with a binder. Your tits bounced freely with the motion. Echo groaned at the sight. You were even more beautiful than he imagined. Biting his glove he hastily freed his hand and greedily grabbed your breast.

His middle finger circled the base of your nipple, teasing the pebbled surface, occasionally brushing a calloused thumb over the stiffening peak. All the while his lips and tongue caressed your neck and jaw. The teasing was setting you ablaze, arousal soaking your body glove as you rode his thigh. Incoherent praises fell from your mouth as your release built impossibly tight. When his fingers finally closed around your nipple, he pushed his lips onto yours.

The heat of his kiss as his tongue prodding your lips open, combined with his lavishing touch left you moaning into his mouth. You couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking your groin plate free and dropping it, hands latched onto his cuirass for leverage, unabashed by your own desire as you ground onto his leg.

“Maker, you're beautiful,” he groaned, marveling at your moaning, undone state, for him no less. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long.”

You were so close, achingly close, teetering on the edge. Your moans turned guttural and ravenous.

“I want you, Echo," you demanded. “Fuck me now.”

He eagerly pulled his leg away, stripped off your cuisses and pulled the waist of your body glove down to your knees. You turned your back to him at his eager prompt as he pulled your hips out, smoothing his hand down your back and across your buttocks. His fingers slid through your dripping folds, drawing a hiss from his teeth.

“Do you always get this wet over me?”

“Yes, always," you gulped a moan as his middle finger circled your swollen clit before teasing just the inside of your entrance.

“I’ve dreamed of you riding my face, coming so hard it runs down my neck," he nipped your shoulder and the back of your neck. “Next time, mesh'la.”

Your thighs trembled and your engorged cunt clenched around nothing, “Hells, Echo, please…I’m begging you.”

With a smug smirk, freed his weeping cock and began pushing into your drenched, throbbing pussy. Just as his blunt head breached your tight entrance, finally delivering the fullness and stretch you were clenching for, a shuttle landed outside. He jerked his head back and withdrew from your folds.

“Shit, they’re back sooner than I expected,” he hissed, stuffing his length away and clapping his codpiece back on.

“Wh-what?! No, no-no-no-!” you pleaded. Being left in such a state was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Unless you want an audience…” he replied, giving your nipple one last squeeze and tug. “I swear I will make it up to you.”

You growling angrily. Eyes crossing in frustration, you yanked your pants back up. The middle seam grazed your painfully swollen clit, nearly bringing you to your knees. Together you gathered your gear and he helped you get dressed. Outside you could hear the approaching voices of the rest of the Batch.

“You better take a minute in the fresher,” Echo chuckled as he smoothed a hand across your ruffled hair.

On impulse, you pulled him in close for one last, deep kiss before darting to the fresher. The door latched just as their boots hit the ramp. Locking it, you rested your sweat dappled forehead on the cold durasteel. Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself and laughed at your fucked out appearance.

Your face was hot and sweaty from the intensity of your arousal. In your panic to leave the ship, you hadn’t dried your hair. Between air drying halfway and getting pushed into the bulkhead for who knows how long, it was a knotted mess again. Raking your fingers through as best you could, you quickly straightened yourself.

After splashing cold water in your face, you exited the privy. Echo was talking to Hunter, Tech was walking to the cockpit, Wrecker was securing the supplies, and Crosshair caught your eye with a smug grin before following Tech. Your helmet and pack were on your bunk in the place you always kept them. It suddenly dawned on you Echo had retrieved it for you.

As the ship readied to take off, the others made their way to the cockpit to strap in. Taking a moment, you checked inside your pack and we’re relieved to see all your belongings were still there. A breath escaped your lips, but at the return of your pack and an attempt to steady your electrified nerves.

“Don’t go using that now,” Echo whispered in the shell of your ear as his hand slid low across the front of your hips. “I plan to finish what I started.”

Your eyes shot to him to find his glowing with the same hungry lust as your own. Flashing a quick, dusky smile, he turned for the cockpit. Suddenly your mouth was parched and your ears. Biting your lip, you shoved your head into your helmet to hide your arousal and followed him.

Nine Hells, it was going to be a long mission.

[twistedsarchive]

Just As Good? Part I

Pairing: TBB Echo x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Summary: After overhearing you relieving some stress in the shower, Echo realizes you may harbor the same feelings for him that he has for you.

Warnings: Mutual pining, masturbation (both male and female), use of sex toy with accidental eavesdropping.

Length: 2k

The water in the shower was hot. Almost as hot as the feeling of his hand on your body. He kneaded your breast, rolling and pinching your stiffened bud until a longing moan stretched out of your throat. A satisfied hum resonated in your ear as he kissed your neck, teeth raking across the thin flesh. For so long you ached to have this gorgeous man explore you and it finally happened. His name was on your lips, spoken like a secret prayer, the only cure for the unrelenting torment you felt deep in your cunt from the moment you met him.

“Echooo…."

Leaning back against the wall of the tiny shower stall you spread your legs, waiting for him. He started with one finger, then a second, pushing and curling deep inside you, edging you closer to a desperately needed orgasm, but it remained elusive. Removing his fingers, he positioned himself at your entrance. A moan hitched in your throat as he finally, slowly pushed into you and you finally, at long last experienced the glorious sensation of being filled by him. How your body had ached for that moment, but there was no time to savor it, your water allotment was almost up.

Wasting no time, he pushed and pulled rapidly, grinding his hips against you as he thrust, until you were little more than a panting mess under the jets. Your clit, already swollen and sensitive, didn’t need much stimulation from his thumb before the coil wound impossibly tight. You were close, so close but release evaded you for some unknown reason. His hand grasped your breast as your hips thrust. As the water began to temper, with one final thrust and a loud, shameless moan of his name, you finally came harder than you had in months.

Opening your eyes, you cut the water and took a minute to catch your breath in the otherwise empty fresher. Your core was still throbbing as the vibrator continued to buzz in your hand. Switching it off and cleaning it in the sink, you quickly toweled yourself dry.

You picked up the device on Pantora several weeks back and thoroughly enjoyed it, however the constant proximity of the batch meant you didn’t get to use it nearly as much as you wanted. Though, whether you were using your hands or your toy the focus of your fantasy was always the same.

Echo.

Echo sighed heavily as he returned to the Marauder. He hated forgetting things, mostly because Tech never let him hear the end of it, even though he distinctly remembered hearing Tech say he would get the gear box. On the walk back, he tried your comm several times, but you didn’t answer, not that he really blamed you. If given the option, he’d ignore his brothers from time to time as well.

He opened the ramp and hurried aboard. Hearing the water running, he concluded you were in the shower, all the more reason to be quick. As he rifled through the crates in the back to find the right one, a sound from the fresher made him blush. You moaned. Flustered by the accidental intrusion, he grabbed the crate. Then you moaned again…louder.

“Echooo!”

His spine snapped straight. He was desperate to leave but his feet were rooted in place as he heard your gasping, climactic pants just on the other side of the thin durasteel door. The water cut, which sent him into a panic as he shoved the other crates back into place. Before he could escape, the fresher door slid open.

You walked around the corner, not noticing the open ramp in your post orgasmic state. In your shock at his sudden presence, you flinched and released the small bundle of your dirty under clothes in your hand. Lunging in reflex, you caught your bra and shorts, but not the vibrator that was concealing in the middle.

The silicone device hit the metal floor and bounced end over end before stopping at his feet. During the tumble, the power button was hit, which left the fluorescent purple phallus dancing around the toe of his boot. Both of you stared at it for a painfully quiet moment, save for the loud buzzing of the plastic handle on the durasteel floor.

You froze, unsure of how long he had been there. Mortification was etched across your face. Matters only got worse when he set down the crate and picked up the device. He looked it over with a measure of curiosity and found the power switch to turn it off. The silence in the room only thickened when he extended his arm to politely return it.

“Th-thanks,” you accepted the device and chucked it into your bunk as thought it was about to bite you. “Did you forget something or…”

As you watched his body language, a sense of dread sank into your stomach. He stood rigid and talked much faster than he usually did. His eyes looked all over the ship, except directly at you, save for a lingering gaze down your towel wrapped body.

Echo cleared throat, clearly just as uncomfortable, “Uh, yeah.. I forgot the supply crate. Sorry to interrupt your… privacy. I’ll get out of your hair.”

He shuffled past you, being careful to avert his eyes, nearly sprinting out of the ship. You closed the ramp and slumped against the wall humiliated. Hiding your hands on your face, your cheeks burned red. Internally you wanted to die. He heard you. He definitely heard you.

That night Echo stretched out in his bunk, relaxed but wide awake. Sleep was different for him after becoming part machine, so it left him with a lot of time to think at night. As he stared at the underside of your bunk, he thought more about what he learned that day.

In the months he’d known you, he found you more and more attractive though not just physically. You were funny, kind, and sharp-witted, but perhaps most of all, when you were around him, he felt like a complete man again. The thing that held him back was his uncertainty at your feelings for him.

Initially you approached him in a lighthearted, flirtatious way, but it caught him off guard. He found himself unsure of how to respond, in part doubting you could see him in that way. Then your behavior quickly changed and you made it clear he was your friend. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he accepted it all the same, comfortable with unrequited feelings and long nights spent listening to the sweet sounds you made in your sleep from the bunk above, wishing he could be next to you.

As he recalled the way his name sounded on her lips, his cock twitched and pushed against his body glove. Pressing his eyes closed, he tried to think of something else, anything else, but the mental images of your smile kept dominating his mind. Drawing the privacy curtain, as they all did from time to time, he freed his cock and pulled off his shirt. The cool air of the ship felt good as the heat of arousal prickled across his skin. Gripping himself firmly, he began to languidly stroke his length. In the privacy of his bunk, he indulged the fantasy of you.

You hovered over him, your soft breasts grazing his chest. Your lips caressed his gaunt cheeks before continuing down his neck and up the other side. His lips part as yours meet his, gentle and sweet. An eager hand finds your breast and thumbs pebbled peaks until moan. Slotting your legs around his hips, you slid onto his aching length, your dripping pussy already clenching around him. As you rode him, your face upturned and mouth agape, the most delightful sounds of ecstasy escaped while you reached your peak…

Echo strangled back a moan. He was close. His hand vigorously pumped, slicked with his precum as his belly tightened. Sweat dotted his forehead and his body trembled with anticipation. Hooking a rag on his scomp, he danced with the edge. Above him, he heard you sigh in your sleep. The sound made his hips buck as he clamped the rag over his pulsing cock just in time to catch the hot, white ropes of his release.

He opened his eyes and blinked several times, returning to reality. His head sank back into his pillow as a euphoric wave tingled through his body. Releasing a deep, satisfied breath, he let his softening member lay on his exposed stomach. After tucking himself away, he silently padded to the fresher, buried the used rag in the hamper, and washed.

As he returned to his bunk, he stopped at your drawn curtain. He knew you were embarrassed by his accidental intrusion and while he regretted walking in on you, knowing you still felt at least something for him caused a warm feeling to grow in his chest. A yawn tugged at his throat as he ducked back into his bunk. Maybe he’d get a decent night’s sleep after all.

You had been actively avoiding Echo for several rotations out of sheer embarrassment, which was no easy task given your cohabitation on a single ship. Mostly, you busied yourself outside the Marauder, helping Tech with maintenance and upgrades. For the most part, you were successful, but as everyone settled into the ship at night, you had to face the inevitable awkwardness of being in close quarters with him.

That night, once you thought they were all asleep, you sat up in your bunk, turned in your small lamp, and dug out a repair kit. In your desire to hide your shame by hurling your vibrator into the safety of your bunk, it broke. After setting out a small tray and the various tools you thought you’d need, you set about dismantling the device. It didn’t take long to realize the drivers you had were too big for the screws, but you knew where to find them.

Slipping silently from your bunk, you padded to the work bench and opened the driver compartment, testing tools until you found the right size. Satisfied that you could continue, you turned back to your bunk and froze. A soft glow of light shined under the curtain of Echo’s bunk, which hadn’t been there before. Swearing, you pressed forward and stood at the rack.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly from behind the black fabric.

“Uh, no. You?” you replied, casually tossing the device and tool onto your bunk, but they clattered on the tray.

“Slept a while and woke up,” he pulled the curtain back enough to see you. “Are you working on something?”

“Yeah, I just needed a different driver to get started,” uou felt your face burn red.

“Want some help?”

“Uhhh, no,” your voice trembled nervously so you faked a yawn. “I’m getting tired actually, I may just try another time.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you with a chuckle, “Alright. Well, goodnight.”

You climbed back into your bunk. Echo heard you overhead shifting to a comfortable position as he resumed reading. His eyes flicked up to the sound of small pieces tinking quietly on the metal tray, followed by the sound of shuffling tools. As he read the next few sentences, he hears you grunt and huff in frustration.

“Dank ferrik!” you swore quietly and tried again.

Echo set his holopad aside and listened for another moment to the sounds of your struggle. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

He heard you sigh reluctantly. “Yes, please.”

Smiling to himself, he got up and stood at your curtain. You opened it far enough for him to study the contents of your bunk. He recognized the item you dropped the other day, though it was presently in several pieces. His eyes shifted to yours as you sat, face burning red, looking everywhere but at him.

“It broke,” you sheepishly admit.

“Okay…” he replied neutrally.

“I can’t seem to find the problem. I think a wire is loose, but I can’t take it apart. And the damn thing cost me more than I care to admit and I can’t exactly run out and buy a replacement, so I’m pissed at myself for-”

“I might be able to help, if you’ll let me.”

Echo stopped your spiral with a simple hand on your arm and a gentle smile. At the warmth of his bare hand on your skin, your wide eyes finally met his. He gestured to the tray so you gathered all the pieces and tools and slid it to him.

You had stripped off the silicone shell and removed the battery, however opening the vibrating capsule was proving difficult. He picked it up and studied it for a moment, while you tried not to remind yourself your crush was handling your vibrator.

“I think I can fix it. Come on.”

Taking the tray, he sat at the workbench and flicked on the light. Reluctantly, you followed. He made quick work of opening the capsule and began inspecting it. Then he turned on the soldering gun to heat up and went to work. You sat in a thick silence, which only made you feel more self conscious. Eventually, you decided awkward conversation might be better than awkward silence.

“Thank you…for the help," you finally said.

“You’re welcome," he replied but paused. “I’m sorry I interrupted you the other day. If I’d known…you shouldn’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. Sometimes the only way to relax is to…”

“Take a hands on approach?” you tactfully finished, arching a brow at him.

“Yeah," he chuckled lightly, which surprisingly cut through the tension. “But being the only woman on board, I understand why you want privacy for that. Is that why you worked out your deal with Hunter to have the ship to yourself for a few hours between missions?”

“I mean, not just that, but yeah.”

“What else do you do?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Well, since your currently repairing my sex toy, I suppose we’ve reached a new level of intimacy,” you laughed awkwardly, trying to convince yourself to answer the question. “I take care of some grooming of a more…personal nature.”

Echo’s head cocked toward you, his hand stilling on the repair. “What?”

Sighing, you decide you throw subtlety out the airlock. “I’m not sure how it works for guys, but having a full bush in a body glove is incredibly uncomfortable.”

He inhaled sharply and choked on saliva, which sent him into a coughing fit. After a minute of stifling himself into his elbow, it was his turn to blush.

“Guess I hadn’t considered that,” he quipped then also decided to throw subtlety out the airlock. “So, is this thing any good?”

Your mouth fell open slightly at the brash question. “Uh, yeah. Better than anything else I’ve had.”

“Come on, it can’t be that good," his tone was almost playful in his disbelief.

“Oh really?” you countered, leaning against the bench toward him. “That doesn’t complain about using protection, it’s never cum on my clothes, or my face or my tits without so much as a heads up, and unlike every other trooper I’ve been with, that makes sure I always finish first.”

Echo considered her answer and gave a conceding, though cringing nod, “Not all of us are like that. But don’t you miss…I dunno, the human connection?”

“Of course I do. There’s nothing like having the warmth of another person with you but…” on a whim, you decided to cast a proverbial line. “I haven’t exactly had any offers lately, so I take care of myself

“I could-” he began but stopped himself. The inescapable fear of your rejection was stronger than he could face.

The look he gave you made your heart flutter. For a moment you thought he was going to lean across the bench and kiss you. His eyes flicked to your lips, as you unconsciously wetted them, causing his brows to pull together just slightly in longing. You were certain that he was a generous lover, but as things stood, you doubted you’d ever get to find out. He swallowed hard, as evident by the noticeable dips of his Adam’s apple through the high collar of his glove and dragged his gaze back to your repair.

Falling back into silence, you watched as he skillfully soldered several wires back into place. Closing the capsule, he reconnected it to the battery. With the press of a button, it sprang to life again. The noticeable buzz it typically made had quieted to an almost silent hum. An appreciative smile crossed your face as he switched it off and fitted the silicone shell around it. For the second time in as many rotations, Echo returned your vibrator.

“All set. Might even be better than before. Let me know how it works.” He offered helpfully, but blushed in the dim light as he registered what he was suggesting.

“I’ll keep you posted.” you smiled playfully and looked at him through your lashes. “Thank you again for your help.”

“Anytime,” he replied, quickly tidying the bench to avoid eye contact.

Rising, you placed a hand in his arm, and kissed his stubbled cheek. If you didn’t know better, you thought you felt him turn his face toward yours slightly. Feeling emboldened, you shifted and ghosted a kiss against his surprisingly soft lips, lingering just long enough to see how he’d reply. Rather than learn into you, he stiffened until you pulled back, which told you all you needed to know.

“Goodnight, Echo.” you said warmly, though your eyes were downcast. “Thanks again. I hope you sleep well.”

He was conflicted as he watched you go. Part of him wanted nothing more than to follow you, join you in the confines of your bunk and see if he could make you moan his name as loudly as your vibrator. As he turned off the light at the bench and decided to go to the cockpit, he heard a hum coming from your bunk, followed by his praising name on your lips. At least he was able to make you cum, one way or another.

Part Ii

[twistedsarchive]

First Aid - Part II

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

First Aid - Part I

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! Minors be gone!!! Sex pollen aftermath, angst, emotional confusion, mutual pining, misunderstood feelings, oral (m and f receiving) unprotected p in v (don't be dumb. No glove, no love), cum eating, creampie, sub/dom elements, switch, dirty talk, praise, swearing, two fools that just need to be honest with one another.

Summary: Following the effects of a potent flower, you're left trying to figure out how to navigate your working relationship with Rex as questions, accusations, and feelings abound.

Length: 10k

The shuttle ride was silent, though it wasn't the kind of silence Kix was accustomed to. Nervous quiet before a mission was common, somber silence afterwards was expected. But the quiet in the shuttle at that moment was angry, conflicted, and uncomfortable. His eyes were fixed on your boots, which were caked in red, iron-rich clay mud. He had noticed the same sediment on Rex's boots, knee guards and staining the edges of his kama before departing the planet.

Furrowing his brows he thought critically. There weren't any open clay deposits at the base camp and Rex's armor was clean when he left. Your dirty armor was expected after crashing your speeder, but how did Rex get muddy if he had brought you straight back for medical attention? It didn't add up and the mystery of the flower was only making things more confusing. He needed more data.

The shuttle docked on the Resolute and the door opened. You stepped out but, much to Kix's surprise, didn't follow him to the lift to the medbay. Instead, you walked at a determined clip toward the aft lift that would take you closer to the barracks. He jogged after you, hoping to apply reason.

"Captain Rex ordered you to report to the medbay," he started.

"I'm aware of what Captain Rex ordered," you spoke quickly and angrily without breaking your stride.

"We need to understand how this plant affected you."

"Bite me!" You reflexively barked over your shoulder.

You knew Kix meant well and was genuinely concerned, that much was obvious in the way he had studied you the entire shuttle ride. Aside from the fact that your cunt was beginning to throb with need again, you were riding a wave of conflicting emotions that was leaving you frayed at the seams. A trip to the medbay for a workup was more than you could handle at the moment. Unfortunately he persisted and caught up with you.

"I just need to get some rest and I'll be fine."

It took all your strength to keep a steady voice as your stride lengthened.

In a desperate attempt to stop you, he lunged forward and grabbed your upper arm. His unwelcome touch made your fight instinct ignite white hot. You turned and reflexively twisted your arm from his grasp while readying to swing at him. Seeing your reaction, he stepped back with both hands raised, realizing he had crossed a line. The exchange, which lasted only a fraction of a second, was immensely revealing and concerning, to the medic.

He tentatively stepped closer and dropped his voice low, "If something happened out there...if Rex-"

The mere mention of his name made you cringe and shrink, "Nothing happened."

It was an obvious lie, you knew it and you knew Kix did as well. You forced yourself to meet his probing gaze, though your confidence was nothing more than a bluff and he easily saw past the thin veil. Your eyes brimmed with hurt and conflict. Before long your eyes fell, unable to continue looking at the familiar brown pools filled with worry. All you could think about was the way Rex looked at you not long ago, before everything stopped making sense.

Kix took a measured breath, "I need to collect some vitals and a few vials of blood. I can't help you if I don't know what's medically affecting you. We can do it in your cabin, if you're more comfortable there."

You screamed internally. Despite the emotional torrent churning in your head, your body burned with lust and want, uncaring who fucked you or where it happened. Being alone with Kix in your current, humiliating state was a temptation you couldn't risk. Looking around, you spied a supply crate and gestured for him to follow.

"Let's get this done," you grumbled, plopping down and pulling the gear off your left arm.

Kix opened the kit and collected your blood pressure, pulse and oxygen saturation. Next, he checked your pupils, mucous membranes, lymph nodes and thyroid, and listened to your heart and lungs. Finally, he quickly collected three vials of blood.

"Your vitals are significantly elevated," he informed as you collected yourself and stood. "Are you experiencing other symptoms?"

If only you knew the half of it, Kix.

"No, no symptoms," you denied rather convincingly.

"Hydrate and rest. If you experience palpitations, shortness of breath, or swelling, call the medbay immediately," he instructed.

You restrained the caustic chuckle in your chest at his concerns of swelling and instead nodded before turning away to the lift. As you took the long walk back to the sanctuary of your cabin and reflected on the random, happenstance nature circumstances. You wondered if you had become the target of a long forgotten prankster deity. Perhaps its lone remaining worshiper performed a ritual to summon the god to celebrate its feast day and you were randomly chosen as the recipient of its mischievous magic.

Whatever the circumstances, by the time the door of your cabin slid shut, it was all you could do to find your vibrator and strip off your filthy armor. Sitting on your bunk, you pants around your ankles and easily sank the phallus into your pussy. With the press of a button, your eyes crossed and the device sprang to life. As the pressure built in your walls, Rex's filthy, dusky praises played over in your mind.

Maker I knew you'd taste amazing.

This what you need? You needed to be fucked like a whore? Fuck your tight pussy almost can't handle me.

Come all over my, cock. Let go, just like that. That's my girl.

"That's my girl," you whispered to yourself as you climaxed with the same intensity as before.

Flopping back on your bunk, the buzzing vibrator still lodged in your walla, your chest heaved and body prickled and hummed, as the silicone device was pushed out by your throbbing walls. It clattered on the floor, but you didn't really care. Instead you savored the surge of dopamine and oxytocin flooding your bloodstream. As you stared at the ceiling, your mind cleared from the haze of blinding arousal. You replayed the events over and over in your mind until, despite still wearing your sweat stained body glove, exhaustion overtook you.

Kriff it, you'd shower later. Yanking your pants back up and turning off your vibrator, you threw aside the remains of your armor and kicked off your boots. Your lumpy bunk and thin pillow had never felt so comfortable on your aching, exhausted joints. It didn't take long for sleep to over take your mind, but as you drifted off, a singular question bubbled to the surface.

Why didn't Rex finish too?

A successful mission was always cause for jubilation, and indeed the entirety of the 501st was celebrating at the sight of a job well done as the Separatists' weapon burst into flames and exploded into oblivion. Rather, nearly the entirety of the 501st was celebrating. Rex felt no joy at the outcome as he assessed the field before stepping aboard one of the last departing drop ships. It wasn't the loss of men that troubled him, in fact the losses had been nominal, thanks to the intel they had received from you. Even thinking your name caused him to loathe himself both for his actions and words earlier that day and for the cock hardening desire he still felt.

As the doors sealed and the ship lifted off, he saw Jesse and Fives talking quietly amongst themselves. Sighing to himself, he tried to think of anything but you, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was your face, desperate and wanting. Being alone with his thoughts in his bucket made it worse, so he forced his eyes open and yanked his helmet off to see Fives standing at his shoulder.

"What happened between you two on that planet?"

The directness of the question made his stomach clench, "Nothing happened."

His denial was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, which only caused more suspicion. Jesse joined Fives and they exchanged a confused glance before both looked back at him. Heat gathered under the collar of his compression suit. Rex suddenly regretted taking off his helmet.

"Is she okay?" Jesse clarified pointedly. "She was in bad shape. Do we know what happened yet?"

The probative questions gave clarity and he immediately understood the context, "Kix is evaluating her on the Resolute. She was...stable by the time we reached camp."

Fives rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, "Uh-huh. Well, I'll drop by the medbay and let her know we were successful. Hopefully Kix will have some answers."

Mercifully, they let the subject drop and the remainder of the ride was quiet. Once they landed in the hangar, Rex made his way to his quarters. A private cabin was one of the few luxuries he had as an officer while on ship. With the door closed and locked, he set his helmet on the desk, neck to the computer terminal, and absent-mindedly doffed his kit, stacking the pieces to wash and repair later.

An audible groan of relief escaped his throat upon removing his codpiece, although the pressure of his tight armor was gone, his half-stiff cock still ached from his own willful denial of release. After stripping down to the lower half of his suit, he went to the fresher and opened the tap on the shower. Tempting as it was to use his allotment of hot water and work out the pressure in his groin by replaying the day's events in his head, the cocktail of guilt and shame he felt intertwining with his arousal stamped out the idea.

Turning the tap to tepid, he quickly washed off the dirt and grime of the mission. Once dried, he dug out a fresh compression suit from his footlocker and pulled the leggings on, adjusting himself with a brow furrowing groan. Tossing the shirt on his desk, he synced his holopad to his helmet cam and began downloading the footage from the mission as he fired up the terminal to write his mission report. It was a task he'd done hundreds of times and didn't require his rapt attention.

As he brought up the mission and reviewed the brief, the download finished. Pressing 'play' on the holopad without looking, he began typing his report until every nerve in his body jolted at the sound of your desperate plea.

"Fuck me."

Heat flooded across his body and all at once his cock was unrelentingly rigid and throbbing. Impossible, he had shut off his bucket-cam when they stopped. His shot to the holopad, the screen filled with your sweat glistened face, blown out pupils, and parted lips. After you cried out in frustration as he hesitated, you clambered off the speeder and began storming away, a trail of your armor left in your wake. Rex had remained on the speeder for a moment after you disappeared behind a boulder, but the sounds you made from the other side compelled him to his feet, but he stopped short when he took in your state.

In his office, Rex paused the vid and cursed his subconscious accident. Behind his pants, pre-cum was soaking through the fabric as his cock begged for release. His brows pinched in the middle, as he contemplated his options. He knew what he should do: complete his report in full and speak to General Skywalker to face whatever disciplinary action he deserved for his deplorable actions. But, as his finger trembled over the screen, he broke in the face of temptation. With the tap of a calloused pad, the video resumed and his other hand firmly palmed his erection.

His helmet fell from his grasp as he charged toward you. With the angle at which the helmet landed, he could only see boots and shins, but the audio picked up your panting moans as he fell to his knees before you. Closing his eyes, he savored the pleasured sounds you made, freeing his cock and stroking it in earnest, eager to relieve the swollen ache he had been plagued with for hours.

"H-h-arder!" you grunted the order. "Rex, harder!"

He bit back a moan at your request, knowing it was then that he slotted himself in your delicious pussy. His grip tightened as his hand worked feverishly over his length, the obscene squelch of precum spreading across his palm. Pressure built every time his fist pounded against his base and heavy balls only to piston back up again. The muscles of his inner thighs and low in his belly fluttered at the change of pitch in your voice, prompting him to grab his clean shirt from the desk. As he heard the rumbles of his dusky voice speaking filthy words into your ear, the pleasured moan that as you came pitched him over the edge.

With a strangled groan, he clapped his shirt over the head of his cock as hot ropes of cum were finally released in a pulsing euphoria. He whimpered as he rode the intense high after being denied for so long. A jerking shiver rippled down his hunched spine as heat dissipated from his exposed, sweaty back and chest. The cool breeze of the recycled air in the ship made his skin contract tightly. Although he was dizzy from his orgasm, he tried to collect himself.

After wiping his hand and softening cock clean and redressing, he sighed with exasperation upon realizing he had just soiled his only spare shirt. Opting to deal with it later, he turned his attention back to his holopad. It was against regulations to alter the footage, but he'd never intended to record it in the first place, as much for your privacy as anything else. He certainly felt a great deal of guilt over what had happened. The look of regret in your eyes afterwards was inescapable and he hated himself for letting it happen at all, not to mention getting off to it a moment ago.

Debating internally, he opened the file editor and highlighted the footage to delete. As his finger sat hovered above the button, nestled between 'Cancel' and 'Erase All', he hesitated. Maybe he should speak to you first...

An assertive pound on the door broke his tense concerning. Rex flinched and scrambled to close the vid. After only a breath’s pause, the occupant of the other side of the durasteel pounded again, and continued to do so as he buried his cum stained shirt back in his footlocker. When he looked at the holopad, dread sank in his gut upon realizing he had deleted the whole file. A string of profanity left his mouth as he tried to think of a way to recover the file that didn’t involve a potentially humiliating conversation with technical support, but a viable solution refused to manifest through the belligerent pounding at his door.

"Coming!" he barked impatiently at the persistent, undeterred visitor. He slammed a hand on the control panel but the anger at the intrusion was sucked from his body, along with the air from his lungs, at the sight of Kix's scowling face.

"Captain," he tersely bit at the title. "Is this a bad time?"

He fought back the cold chill that jolted down his body as his blood nearly froze in his veins. It couldn't be a worse possible time, for reasons he couldn't disclose, though his ability to lie was tragically bad. Heat rose in his face as he felt his brother's eyes rake across his bare chest, the flicker past him, appraising the room over his shoulder. From the angle, Rex knew Kix was assessing the pile of his dirty armor, still stacked by the fresher door, waiting to be cleaned. Eventually, their eyes met again.

"May I come in?" he asked stiffly.

Rex stepped away from the door, walking the several paces back to his desk, which he leaned against with arms crossed over his chest. "How's is she?"

"I wouldn't know, she refused to come to the medbag."

"What?"

A tense silence filled the small room, "She said she just needed rest. Barely let me get vitals or a blood sample before practically running to the lift. She seemed...jumpy. Like something had happened out there."

"Well, something did happen. She crashed into those flowers," he managed to keep his cool and divert the conversation. "Have you analyzed the plant yet?"

"Yep," he thrust a holopad to Rex and matched his posture while he read.

Unfortunately for Rex, the report was written in medical terms, which he could barely gasp on a good day, much less in his current state, "Kix, you know I don't understand this. Just give it to me in Basic."

"The sample is an unknown species so we compared it to other floral species. Its chemical structure is similar to known compounds used in recreational drugs. They act as a potent vasodilator while stimulating the nucleus accumb-"

"Basic, Kix!"

His jaw worked for a moment before he continued, "They're party drugs, Rex. Sex drugs to increase duration and intensity arousal, only this one was ten times as potent and she rolled through a field of it. The concentration in her bloodstream was dangerously high. I honestly don't know how she was still functioning."

But Rex knew. He had heard of them before, often being partaken by his vod while on shore leave. Though he never opted in himself, he suspected that was what had affected you which was why you had made you plea to him for relief. Although he wanted to say he hadn't enjoyed himself, the shameful, guilty part of his mind knew he had despite wishing the circumstances had been different. A pregnant pause hung between them. They held one another's intense gaze until Rex wavered until his brother's critical eye and his gaze fell.

Kix inhaled sharply, believing his suspicion, one he deployed to even entertain a possibility, was confirmed. "Rex, I swear if you put a hand on her-"

"It wasn't like that!" He cut in, knowing where the evidence led.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, voice brimming with barely restrained anger, "Then tell me, Rex...what was it like?"

You were hungry. No, that didn’t cover it. You were famished. When you awoke in your quarters, who knows how many hours later, you felt as though you had been running in the field for days without eating a single calorie. It was all you could do to collect yourself, shower, redress, and shuffle to the mess hall. After collecting your tray of cardboard like food, managing to persuade double your allotted portion having missed the prior meal, you found an empty table and began consuming your fill with gusto. Never before had the food provided to the Grand Army tasted so good. Hunger truly was the best spice.

Once picked clean, you pushed it away with a satiated sigh and began sipping at the bitter caff while processing the prior day with a clear head. The most bizarre aspect of the events was that your memory wasn’t hazy, as though you were drunk. Rather everything felt shape and acute, startlingly so. Closing your eyes, you swore you could still feel Rex’s hands on your flesh, his tongue, wet and thick consuming you as his eyes burned with more want than you expected. Forcing a deep breath you opened your eyes when you felt your pulse start to race. You had no interest in getting worked up all over again in the middle of the mess hall.

“Hey, look who’s back to the land of the living,” Fives called as he and Jesse approached with their meals. “How are you feeling? We stopped by the medbay when we got back, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m fine,” you dismissed with the wave of a hand. “How did the mission go? I looked for Rex’s report, but he hasn’t filed it yet.”

“The mission was successful, thanks to you. I’m sorry you couldn’t be there," he paused and deliberated before leaning close and asking quietly, "What happened after Rex picked you up?”

“Nothing happened,” you sharply replied, realizing only after the words flew from your mouth that you only roused more suspicion.

Jesse’s head cocked to the side slightly, “Funny, that’s what Rex said when we asked him on the way back to the Resolute.”

You sat under their penetrative gaze for a breath, “Then that means nothing happened.”

Just as Fives opened his mouth, your comm mercifully chirped. You eagerly opened the channel, uncaring who was on the other end. That was until you learned exactly who it was.

“It's Kix. I need you to report to the medbay immediately.”

Your lips pulled tightly into a line and your nose scrunched in aggravation, but a reasonable excuse failed to form, so all you could do was say, “I’ll be right there.”

Although you were grateful to get away from the building interrogation from Jesse and Fives, you knew Kix was all the more aware something had gone on and, unlike the former, he had a valid reason to push you for answers. With some trepidation, you collected your tray, and dropped it at the bussing station. Lost in your thoughts, you ran straight into a trooper entering the mess hall as you left, unaware of who it even was until you looked up to apologize.

Rex looked down at you with wide eyes. His hands held your upper arms, an instinctive response to the collision, though as you stared at one another, his grip firmed. For a moment you thought he was going to pull closer, pull you into a kiss. Your lips parted as your breath quickened, the lingering effects of the pollen hummed in your veins. Memories of your tryst played through your mind with renewed potency and before long, your pussy throbbed and nipples tingled with desire.

Instead, he cleared his throat and shifted you back by extending his arms straight and releasing his hands, “You should be more careful. Watch where you’re going.”

Although his tone was gentle, the words cut deep in your chest. Hurt tore through your chest and threatened to show through your eyes as they burned with resisted tears. Any question of his feelings about you, any doubt was whisked away. Rex would never feel for you what you felt for him and every utterance between you was in the heat of the moment, nothing more. You felt used and humiliated, though he had only done as you asked, so you only had yourself to blame.

As emotions churned beneath the surface, the steadying instinct of self preservation held the wheel tightly and steered you away from breaking, “Rest assured Captain, I won't be a bother to you again.”

He watched you go with dismay, his conflicted heart wanting to go after you, to fall at your feet, plead your forgiveness for taking advantage of the situation and confess his feelings, although he knew his longing for you was no excuse for his decision. Ultimately words wouldn't fix anything, he had violated your trust and nothing could undo his moment of weakness. You hated him, almost as much as he hated himself. With a defeated sigh and head hung low, he departed the mess hall, having lost his appetite entirely. Unbeknownst to him, Fives and Jesse watched the entire exchange with narrowed eyes, their suspicions confirmed.

Upon arriving in Coruscant, the 501st received some much needed shore leave. Although he had been called away from the battalion for the duration of the mission on Beta -75-332-Gamma, Anakin was pleased when the mission reports began arriving that the Republic had been successful in destroying yet another prototype Separatist weapon. The success of the mission also afforded him some shore leave as well, which he was eager to start once he was done signing off the mission reports he had been reviewing all evening on the circular couch of Padmé's apartment. Knowing that his wife was waiting for him in her bedroom added a sense of urgency to complete the tedious task. He knew it was his responsibility as a General to give each report a thorough review before signing off, but he trusted his men and only gave each file a cursory assessment.

From the prior updates, he learned of your wrecked speeder and Rex had collected you and returned to base. Thus far, the details were scant on what exactly happened, so upon reaching Rex's report, the last in the list, he was confident he'd find a thorough and detailed explanation with accompanying vid footage. Unfortunately, he found neither. Although the mission report regarding the weapon met Rex's high standards as always, the vid file was missing entirely and his reporting on you was scant at best. It was most unlike his most trusted officer.

Furrowing his brows, he checked the communication logs. On the outbound trip, it took Rex fifteen minutes to reach their position while he traveled at top speed. While returning however, the log showed it took them nearly forty-five minutes to arrive at base camp. There were no calls or logs of a problem, nor did Rex not anything beyond a single sentence: An unplanned stop was made to administer first aid.

"What does that mean?" he asked aloud to himself.

A gentle hand teased through the curls at the nape of his neck, "What's the matter, Ani?"

"Huh? Oh, it's Rex's reports. They're never this…vague."

Padmé leaned over his shoulder and read the screen, smirking when she was finished, "Sounds to me like they stopped for a little private time."

"What? No, he's not…she's not. They wouldn't during a mission this important."

She returned a mischievous smile, "Neither have we."

"They're colleagues, professionals,"

"Secret lovers?” she teased. “Come on, Ani, I've seen them together. There are the things a woman notices that escape even the most talented Jedi."

"Oh yeah?" He set the holopad aside and pulled her into his lap, trailing kisses up her exposed neck. "Like what?"

"Hmm," she crooned at his caress, sinking her hands into his hair. "Rex is always watching her movements. No matter where he is, his eyes follow her. And he always resists the urge to touch her in some way, a hand to the arm or shoulder. His fingers drift toward her but he pulls them back."

The blades of his fingers ghosted down her spine as he whispered into her ear, "Okay, what about her?"

"She finds an excuse to stand near him, closer than professionals but not intimately close. He's the first one she greets when she enters a room and the last one she looks at when they part," her train of thought fizzled out as his hand slid across her hip, but she pulled back before letting herself get fully seduced. "You have work to finish."

"It can wait," he persuaded.

Unyielding, she stood and caressed his face before walking away, "Don't stay up too late."

As she glided around the couch and back toward her bedroom, Anakin watched her go before turning his attention back to the report. He supposed it was possible, though based on Kix's medical analysis, something bigger than a little mid-mission necking had taken place. The mystery ate at him, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the current hour. Setting the status of Rex's report to 'approval pending' and setting a reminder to discuss it, he abandoned the holopad on the plush sofa, jumped over the back rather than walk around and eagerly followed his wife to bed.

In the rotations it took the Resolute to return to the galactic core from the fringes of wild space, Rex had been actively avoiding you. At first you thought it was a coincidence. He was always busy when he was on duty, so his departure from her presence wasn't unexpected, but when it continued to happen, and happened during the times you typically spent together, you realized the deliberate nature of it. Upon meeting your eyes, regardless of the proximity, his gaze fell and he donned his helmet.

You had hoped to be able to talk to him, to apologize for what happened and maybe go back to the way things were, despite the countless unanswered questions. Though it seemed he wasn't interested in talking, not that you could blame him. The entire mess had been your own making. If you had only kept your mouth shut, if you hadn't begged him, coerced him into doing what he clearly hadn't wanted to do, you wouldn't have lost what connection to him you previously had. Instead you made a huge mistake and were left with the consequences, stewing in the aftermath of regret and heartbreak.

As much as you wanted to enjoy shore leave, you just weren't in the mood. When Fives tried to persuade you to go out to 79's with the rest of the 501st, you declined, having volunteered for inventory. It was the soldier's equivalent of staying home and doing laundry, but it would give you a chance to sort out your feelings while performing a mundane task. Unfortunately it seemed you weren't going to have the solitude you wanted as Fives so eagerly stayed to help, an offer you couldn't dissuade without divulging more information than you wanted to. So you resigned yourself to an unusually tense feeling between you as you counted the supplies and Fives took down the totals.

"Stock item: DB - 11603," you stated before counting the boxes. "Twenty-five units."

"Twenty-five units," he repeated, tapping with the stylist on the holopad. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Stock item: GX - C43K55," you replied, beginning to count the boxes.

"What happened between you and Rex on your way back to camp?"

You froze for a moment, your mind blanking on your count, "Nothing happened."

Sighing at your obstinance, he set the holopad on the shelf and took the supplies from your hands, tossing them haphazardly back in their slot. "Come on, enough of the denials. Both of you are acting strange. There's a Bantha in the room and neither of you will talk about it."

You held his concerned gaze for a moment before dropping your eyes and closing them with a shake of your head, "I can't."

"Kix told me what effect that plant had on you. I don't want to think Rex would take advantage of that situation, but if he…"

The implication made your face snap back to his. "What? No, that isn't what happened. Rex would never," you huffed in exasperation. "He did what I asked and hates me for it."

"You think Rex hates you?"

Folding your arms across your chest, hugging yourself for comfort, you slumped against the shelving unit, "I don't think he does, I know he does. I was in pain and begged him to…While we were….I thought he might feel something for me, like I do for him but…no he-he hates me. He always has."

"He doesn't hate you, he thinks…" he trailed off, convinced you wouldn't believe it from anyone but the source. "I'm going to get you some water, I'll be right back. Just….stay here."

Fives jogged from the room and the door automatically closed behind him. You resumed your inventory count as you worked back the emotions that had broken through your defenses. Admitting what happened out loud gave you a small amount of relief, but the growing, gnawing ache in your chest was strong as ever. The door opened and you assumed Fives entered at a faster stride than he typically had.

"What was so important?" Rex called without looking but he stopped in his tracks.

You whirled around at the sound of his voice. Both of you froze in place, neither able to speak, though you quickly put the pieces together and scowled. The door abruptly slammed shut and the primary lights cut. Ire flared in your blood, knowing full well it was no accident. Blindly feeling your way through the cramped room you shoved passed Rex and pounded on the door.

"FIVES!! OPEN THIS KARKING DOOR!"

"Uhh, sorry! There was a uh…."

"Power failure," another voice whispered loudly.

"A power failure!"

Rex came along your side and likewise fisted the durasteel, "JESSE!!! I know you're out there too!"

"Sorry, Captain. Things are really busted out here!"

From inside the supply closet, there were loud, repetitive bangs and thuds from the other side. The interior control panel flickered and went dark. Red emergency lights glowed overhead, bathing the room in an aesthetic that, in most other circumstances, would have set the mood. Instead, you exchanged an irritated look with Rex, who looked as though he was about to tear the door down with his bare hands to get away.

"Uhh…we're going to go find maintenance," Fives called.

"Yeah, don't go anywhere!" Jesse added

"Where are they going to go, dikut?" His voice was getting quieter as they walked away. "We locked them in the closet."

"Idiots," Rex signed. "I don't think they're coming back."

"Oh, ya think?" Your tone was drier than the Dune Sea at the situation you'd been placed in.

Sitting helplessly was never one of your strong suits. Drawing the multi-tool from your belt, you crouched by the dark control panel and used the blade to pop it open. As you felt around blindly for the wires, a light appeared from over your shoulder. Rex, holding a torch, stepped closer to fill the compartment with illumination. His proximity made your heart race, but you forced yourself to focus.

"Do you have a spare charger pack?" You asked as you stripped several wires of their insulation.

"You sure this is a good idea?"

"Well, you haven't been able to stand being near me for two days, so I'm guessing you want out of this room sooner than later."

With your back to him, you didn't see the hurt look in his eyes as he pulled the pack from his chest pouch and placed it in your waiting hand. You immediately pried the safety cover off with your molars. Next, you wound the end of the positive wire to positive prong. Holding the charge pack between two knuckles, you coiled the end of the negative wire over itself to ensure a solid connection. Confident in your work, you touched the negative wire to the negative prong. The control panel flickered and illuminated for a moment before the wires sparked and sent a burning jolt of electricity through your fingertip.

Your body jerked back with a yelp followed by a string of profanity. Rex yanked the charge pack off the wires before it overheated and tossed aside. You stood and leaned against the door, cradling your singed hand to your chest. Removing his gloves, Rex stepped close and took your hand. The confined space of the closet felt all the smaller as he stood intimately close, the ridges of his armored legs brushed against your clothed ones. His proximity made your heart race and heat creep up your neck. He studied your expression as his strong, calloused hands gently massaged the minor injury, which made your heart flutter.

"Are you okay?" His baritone voice was like warm velvet.

"Like you care," you breathed a scoff, though you made no attempt to withdraw your hand.

"I care a lot more than you realize,"

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it," you chuckled darkly, glancing at your hand in his. "Stop that, my hands are dirty."

He ignored your barely half hearted protest, "Mine are too."

A long silence fell between you as Rex continued to gently rub your fingers, "Why did you help me if you hate me?"

His brows knit with confusion, "Hate you? I never hated you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

Rex looked down at your wide, vulnerable eyes and found himself unable to avoid the truth pressing against his lips, "I hurt you that day. You were drugged, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

You lifted your face toward his, speaking in little more than a whisper, "You didn't take advantage of me, I had coerced you."

A crooked, relieved smile flashed across his face, "You didn't coerce me into anything. I've wanted you since the day we met," he brought your hand to his lips and kissed the pads of your burned fingers. "But that wasn't how I wanted our first time to happen…if it ever did."

Blood surged in your ears as heat prickled across your skin. Hearing his confession reignited a blaze through your body. Your anger, your fears, your hurt fizzled away as the space between you continued to shrink, making your head swim. Breaths came quickly, your chest rising and falling, your lips parting in anticipation as his face drew nearer to yours. He paused, hovering over your upturned face, eyes fixed on your lips, noses just brushing together…

"I'd like to kiss you, if that's okay,"

"Yes, Rex. Please kiss me.”

There was no hiding the desperation in your breathy consent, but it was all he needed to hear before letting his lips finally meet yours. His kiss was something you had fantasized about for months, but acutely so in the prior days. It didn't escape your attention that he hadn't kissed you that day, though his mouth had found nearly every other part of your body. Whatever the reason, you were grateful to experience the rush of his mouth on yours with a clear mind.

Initially, his kiss was hesitant and chaste, but as soon as you released a plaintive sigh and relaxed your unconsciously tense lips, his urgency began to burn through. He released your hands, caged you against the door by placing his hands above your shoulders. Your hands slid up his armored chest and curled over the edge of his chest plate, applying gentle pressure to pull him closer. At your subtle behest, he tilted his head and kissed you deeper, letting his body come in contact with yours as a hand abandoned the wall for your hip. Craving more, mouth parted and your tongue curled against the inside of his upper lip.

That was the spark that set the tinder ablaze. His hands seized your waist, spinning you around and pinning your hips against the side-by-side supply crates in the middle of the room. With a hop, you perched yourself atop the crates and set your legs wide. He stepped back just a pace as he shucked his armor, leaving it wherever it fell in the crimson shadows of the shelves. When he slotted himself between your knees, in naught but the leggings of his undersuit, he let his fingers glide across the hem of your tunic, waiting for your permission.

“Take it off,” you spoke clearly, understanding his hesitation at advancing without your consent as you raised your arms overhead.

The woven fabric barely grazed your heated skin as he pulled it overhead and dropped it to the surface of the crate. In the darkened room, you watched his eyes roam your figure. A tentative hand traced across your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. You reached around to your back, opening the clasps and letting the garment fall slack on your shoulders. He likewise set your binder with your tunic before taking hold of a breast, immediately thumbing a nipple until you moaned.

His lips closed around the stiff, pebbled peak, tongue circling, mouth sucking, all while his hands slid around your hips guiding you to the edge of the crate. Your head lolled back as the actions of his skilled mouth sent waves of arousal straight to your core. Those strong, work hardened, but tender, loving hands slid up your back while he stood upright, pressing his pelvis into yours, rubbing his aching bulge against the apex of your thighs. Arousal quickly dampened the cloth separating you. You raked your nails down his chest, drawing a sinful groan from his chest, which he released into the shell of your ear.

"You're all I can think about at night," his words were like warm honey in your ears.

"Do you get hard thinking about me?" For emphasis you palmed him firmly.

His hips shifted into your cupped hand, hissing back a strained groan at the pressure and friction, "Everytime. I can't think straight until I come."

"What do you picture when you do?" As you spoke you slid your hips off the crate and slowly dropped your knees, holding his eyes as you did so. "Do you imagine me on my knees? Mouth stuffed full of your cock, sucking you off until you come down my throat?"

His eyes blew wide at your filthy words, "Is this still the plant?"

Shaking your head slowly, you looked up at him with parted lips and dusky eyes "No Rex, this is just me."

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his suit, carefully freeing the member you had been thinking about for days. It practically sprang free of its own accord and was an even greater sight than before, thick and long, curving in just such a way that made your pussy tremble around nothing at the memories of feeling him stretch you open. Unconsciously, your tongue ran across your lips as your hands ran up his strong bare thighs. He released a wavering breath as your fingers ghosted across his length several times while you watched the expressions of desire dance across his face.

"You never came that day," your voice dropped an octave, which exuded a measure of authority. "Did you touch yourself after the mission? When you were alone in your quarters?"

The sudden shift of your tone made him shudder beneath your feather light teasing and rendered him incapable of withholding the truth, "Yes, I did, but…I have to tell you something."

Your hands stilled at the twinge of guilt in his voice, "Go on."

"I accidentally recorded us on my helmet. I thought I turned the cam off when we stopped, but I hadn't. I realized it in my cabin and…"

A smile crept across your face, "You got off to us fucking?"

His body tensed, "Yeah. I tried to edit the footage on my holopad but deleted the whole file."

"So the download is gone?"

He nodded, "No one else has seen it, I swear."

Your brow arched as you hummed your disappointment, "That's a shame, I would have liked to have seen it."

To reward his honesty, you drew your tongue from the base of his balls to the cleft of his swollen head and, before plunging your onto his twitching cock. Rex's wavering moan echoed in the small space as you took all of him you could, while gripping the rest in a firm hand. Maker, his cock was thick. Your tongue traced along the bulging veins and swirled over the tip as you drew your head back. Holding his gaze, your eyes smiled up at him. The sight of his slacked mouth and blown pupils in the dim, red emergency lights cast playful shadows across his features, adding a taboo decadence to the already risqué decision to suck his cock in a storage closet.

It felt surreal to Rex. He half expected to wake up at any moment to find himself alone in his bunk, rutting against his mattress in search of pleasure friction, in a puddle of his own spend. The heat of embarrassment mingling with the heat of arousal as he cleaned himself up before returning to sleep in the damp reminder of his vivid imagination and raging libido. But, as his hand came to rest against your head and he felt the vibrations of your carnal moans around his length, he was reminded that he was very much awake and you were very real.

With every push and pull of your lips, stretched taut around his girth, tension mounted deep in his belly. As eager as he was to come, there was an appetite that had gone unsatiated before. It took some coaxing of his resolve but he mustered the will to stop you before it was too late. Although you looked up at him with a measure of confusion, his reassuring hand cupped your chin lovingly as his thumb swept across your kiss-bruised lips.

"May I have a turn? You tasted so sweet, I'd like to have more."

The politeness of request triggered a wave of heat to ripple across your body. With a smirk, you stood and opened the button on your trousers. Rex's eyes watched every movement as your thumbs hooked inside the waistband and, with a slow roll of your hips from side to side, you pushed the garments down to your knees. He helped you up to the crate and crouched, removing your boots and sliding his hands down your legs until you were free of your pants. His hands traced back up your ankles, calves, and knees while his gaze burned into your glistened core. You shifted your legs wider, beckoning him closer, but when leaned with parted lips, you playfully put the ball of your foot in his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Ah, ah, Captain. What's the magic word?" You taunted as his fingers slid around your ankle

"Please. Please let me taste your pussy again," his voice was husky and low, but there was a hungry edge that made you want to melt into his every desire.

"There's your good manners," you praised.

With a rumble in his chest, he planted kisses up your leg, nipping and raking his teeth across the tender flesh, sometimes biting firmly but always lavishing with his tongue to soothe the sting until his warm breath wafted across your slick folds. The anticipation alone made your walls quiver despite your confidence in the moment. Rex seemed to sense you wavering control. Looking up at you through his lashes he pursed his lips and blew a stream of air across your pussy. A silky moan fell from your lips. His hands glided up your thighs and spread you open as his expert tongue finally swirled around your throbbing clit.

The sensation of his mouth on your cunt was utterly divine. As he sucked and lapped at your aching bud, his thick fingers edged ever closer to your entrance. He made sinful sounds of deep satisfaction as his mouth moved lower, which made your legs tremble. As he lapped at your weeping entrance, you mouth fell open as his tongue penetrated your sex, consuming every last drop of arousal as though it was the elixir that would grant him eternal youth.

“Do you like the way I taste?” You panted, gripping the back of his head with your nails

He whimpered a reply, nodding briskly as his hands gripped your splayed thighs tighter. He pulled back just enough to take a gasping breath, having nearly suffocated himself on your pussy. As much as you wanted to continue to tease him, bring him to his breaking point, it was clear he needed no further encouragement. With a simple crook of his fingers, he found that place that made your vision flash white. Unlike last time, his hands and his mouth alone were enough to drive you to the precipice, leaving you a moaning, pleading mess within minutes. Much to your dismay, he chose to edge you, letting the tension in your belly subside just slightly in a power play that left you frenzied yet titillated. Looking down, you caught his burning gaze as he returned a smug smile from between your legs.

“You going to come for me or not?” He teased, knowing he had gained the upper hand.

“Don’t be cruel,” you pleaded.

The sheer amount of smugness as he chuckled at your desperation was enough to make you silently vow revenge, but the thought was scattered to the wind as those two digits plunged deeper into you, yanking the air from your lungs. He stood over you, body cast in crimson shadows and his hand worked in and out of your pussy. As the tension built once again, his thumb came to rest on your clit. You could see in his eyes that he had you just where he wanted you and you wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Submitting to your captain’s decadent touch was something you would never decline.

“Be a good girl,” he crooned. “Come for me, that’s it. Come on my fingers. When you’re done, you’ll get to taste just how sweet you are.”

As if on command alone, you came, your walls throbbing. Crouching again, he hungrily consumed your release, groaning at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Only when he had licked you clean did he stand and tease his glistening digits across your lips.

“Open,” he rumbled.

You eagerly complied, mouth gaping wide and tongue falling out to take his fingers. Tasting yourself on him was almost an out of body experience. Your juices were sweet and tangy as your tongue circled each finger, making sure to explore every nook and cranny of his offering. All the while, he watched you in your debauched state with blown pupils and intense lust. Only when he was satisfied that you had licked his fingers clean did he slowly pull them out of your lips.

All you could think about was your empty pussy, and the need you both still had. “Rex, fill me,” you demanded and he eagerly complied.

Instinctively he fisted his dripping cock as he lined up with your entrance. The sensation of him rolling his hips into you was familiar, though with a clear head, you were able to appreciate the stretch and fullness of feeling him bottom out. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moaned deeply as he dragged his length back only to snap his hips sharply into yours.

He set a feverish pace, knowing you could be interrupted at any moment. The sinful sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps of hedonistic delight. Rex grunted against your neck, unabashed as he teeth sank into the taut flesh. You clung to him with both your arms and legs, despite the sheen of sticky sweat building up between your bodies. As he fucked deep into your pussy, your thick nails dug into the muscles of his back, drawing a visceral groan form his chest at the pain mixing with pleasure.

Without warning, he pressed his thumb against your lips, dipping into your mouth and across your tongue. Once the pad was lubricated with your own saliva, that same digit found your clit again, rubbing back and forth as he pistoned his hips harder into you. The pitch of your gasps jumped an octave until all at once your walls pulsed and throbbed around his length, your release soaking your connected bodies. With each push of his cock, he milked more and more of your orgasm until his pace stuttered and he also loosed a strangled moan and spilled inside you. He pulled you into his chest as you breathlessly rode the pulsing waves of your respective peaks together.

Only when your bodies stilled did he pull back, though he stayed hilted inside you, “That was…” he began but trailed off trying to catch his breath.

“That was amazing, Rex,” you finished for him. “Everything I could have ever wanted with you.”

He kissed you deeply as his member softened and retreated, “As a start, I hope.”

After finding a clean rag, which you use to clean yourself. He pulled the lower half of his suit on and gathered your clothes, handing the articles to you one by one, watching either a grin as you redressed. Last came your tunic, which he held by the collar with the body bunched up so you easily slide it on. When your head emerged, he planted a tender kiss on your lips. Only then did he don his suit and armor again.

"Let me see your bucket," you held out your hand.

Rex arched a brow toward you but offered the requested item, clipping his belt and kama in place. Picking up your holopad, you set about typing for a moment, then fiddled with his transmitter. Although he looked over your shoulder to see what you were doing, the rapid pace at which the screens shifted was more than he could follow. Instead, he watched your face, his favorite features Illuminated by the pale blue glow of the device. He was so engrossed in your profile he didn't notice the smirk that pulled at the corner of your mouth.

"My, my, you look so good on your knees."

The seductive teasing nature of your voice broke his trance. His eyes darted to the screen and his brows shot to his hairline. Playing before his eyes was the vid he thought he lost. Your lip pulled between your teeth as you turned up the volume enough to hear his filthy praises as he fucked you. Self awareness came rushing back as the combined sounds of your hedonism made arousal prickle across his undersuit.

"How did you get it back?" He asked, pausing the vid.

You hummed in self satisfaction, "You so easily forget I'm an engineer. You deleted the synced download, not the source file. Just took a little poking around in your bucket to find it."

Rex set the holopad aside and pulled you into a searing kiss, "Aren't you my clever girl."

"I took the liberty of updating your report with the cropped copy. Command shouldn't be any the wiser."

"And the rest of it?"

"I think we'll find a way to make good use of it once we get out of here," your hands traced down his chest and slid under the upper edge of his codpiece. "Maybe even get you to say all those filthy words again."

He bit back a groan, "You want more of that, do you? And here I thought you wanted to be the one in charge."

"Oh, I don't mind switching when the mood strikes…Captain," with a wink you "I'm using the manual release."

beckoned him over.

With a smug grin he kissed you deeply. Just as his hands began to work their way under your shirt again a sound outside the door cut the moment short.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jesse hissed loudly

“Well, we can’t leave them in there forever,” Fives replied in an obvious whisper.

“Maybe we should give them a little longer.”

“General Skywalker is looking for Rex, we don’t have a choice.”

Rex flashed you a glance and strode to the door, filling the frame with his broad figure. On the other side, there was a series of clunks and bangs. A moment later the door creaked and snapped open. Both Fives and Jesse released a falsetto shriek of surprise before standing erect before their captain. You sauntered up to his side, taking in their quivering chins and uneasy eyes. Fives, in his boldness, gave you a quick wink and suppressed a knowing grin.

“I suppose you think you’re funny with this little prank you pulled,” Rex angled his clenched jaw at his brothers. “Does a week of latrine duty sound like fun too?”

They stammered protests over one another, immediately throwing one another under the transport as to whose idea it was. As amusing as it was to watch them flounder, you also felt a pang or two of guilt, knowing you and Rex had put yourself into the predicament they ultimately solved with their holo-vid inspired intervention. After savoring another moment of their panic, you slid your hand around Rex’s forearm and traced your fingers into his palm.

“Oh, come on Captain. Was it really so bad to be trapped in here for a couple hours?”

Rex shifted and put his arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm reassuringly. Jesse and Fives immediately stopped talking and absorbed your body language. You looked up at him from the protected place against his chest and he gazed down at you, fighting the desire to smile. Kissing the top of your head gently, he pointed an assertive finger at the pair.

“You’re lucky she was here to cover your asses. You won’t speak a word of this to anyone, clear?” When both nodded, he picked up the holopad and thrust it into Fives’ chest and ushered you out of the closet. “Good, finish taking inventory.”

“But, she volunteered, not me!”

“I think you can manage,” Rex playfully replied. “Besides, we haven't debriefed from the mission yet.”

Jesse’s will to stay silent broke and be blurted out, “Is that what they call it these days?”

“Guess you won’t find out tonight, you’re helping Fives.”

He sputtered a reply but you simply waved at them as you departed with Rex. Part of you wondered if the room smelled of our amorous activities but you also didn’t care. With the way Rex’s hand ghosted across the swell of your ass while you walked toward his private quarters, you knew he had the same thing on his mind you did. And that, ultimately, both of you would end up debriefed.

The next day, after a sleepless but enjoyable night with Padme, Anakin entered the base in search of Rex. Bizarrely, the report was updated in the middle of the night and the missing video file was attached per regulations, though the question still nagged at his mind regarding the delay in returning to base camp after you had been injured. Given the time of day, he knew Rex would be in the mess hall and in fact met up with Kix in the walk to the large room filled with troopers from a number of battalions, all taking their morning meal before dispersing to their duties.

As usual, he found you and Rex sitting together, talking over empty meal trays and cups of caff. He had to admit, there was a certain glow to you and lightheartedness to Rex he hadn’t noticed before. On his approach, both looked up and smiled in welcome. Rex reflexively tried to stand to present protocol, though the Jedi waved it away and sat with Kix following, tray in hand. The medic likewise looked between you with a degree of suspicion.

“Rex, I need to talk to you about your mission report,” Anakin cut to the chase quickly. “I received the update last night, but what kind of ‘first aid’ did you give her when you stopped after picking her up?”

As he spoke, you were trying to drink your caff, but instead exhaled sharply into the plastic cup at his description. The three men looked at you curiously. Anakin’s expression was one of confusion, Kix narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and Rex pulled his lips tight to keep from laughing. When the focus returned to your Captain, you watched briefly as he struggled to manifest a convincing lie. Rather than see him fail, and by default your hedonistic tryst become GAR record, you stepped in.

“Acupressure. He applied acupressure,” you cut in, pulling the attention away from Rex.

“Acupressure,” Kix repeated dryly, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes. Rex learned it from a holo-file I sent him. I was in pain from the fall and Rex applied strategic, focused pressure to the places I needed it.”

“Did it help?” Skywalker asked.

“Oh, it definitely helped relieve the pressure,” you confidently confirmed.

“Acupressure…” Anakin stated, clearly interested in the subject. “Kix, maybe we should look into that for the men. Do you have any information on hand?”

Kix looked between you and Rex with knowing eyes, “I’ll be sure to look into it, sir. Anything to help my brothers.”

“Good. Well, I’ll be on my way. I hope you all enjoy your shore leave.”

As Skywalker departed, Kix leveled a parental glare at the both of you, “Acupressure. Really, vod.”

Rex smiled roguishly as he pulled from his caff, "Really."

[twistedsarchive]

First Aid - Part I

Pairing: Rex x FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ only blog! MINORS BE GONE. If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! Minors be gone!!! Sex pollen, mutual pining, misunderstood feelings, oral (Fem receiving) unprotected p in v (don't be dumb. No glove, no love), dirty talk, praise, swearing, not enemies to lovers, but some arguing toward the end.

Summary: During a mission gone wrong, you're left under the influence of a potent native plant and in the care of the venerable Captain for whom you have long had unrequited feelings (or so you thought).

Length: 5k

A/N: FemReader has a nickname "Comm". Its only used once at the beginning.

"Does this planet even have a name?" Jesse asked over the internal comm.

"What could possibly be out here that the Separatists want?"

"Just a number," you replied as the scenery sped by. "This is Beta -75-332-Gamma."

"It's off the grid. How else do you think they test weapons without the Republic finding out?" Fives answered. "How are we looking, Comm?"

"The signal is getting stronger. We're on the right heading."

You smiled under your helmet at the nickname the troopers had picked out for you. It was actually Fives who first coined the term of endearment, as a nod to your prior career as a soldier and rank. As the rest of the 501st got to know you, they quickly adopted the moniker as well.

The name gave you a sense of belonging among the clones despite being a Separatists expatriate. It meant that you were a trusted equal among them...at least most of them. Although you were a seasoned combat engineer who defected to the Republic when you realized what your former military was building, that wasn't enough for everyone. There was one officer of the five-oh-first who you still-still- hadn't won over.

He was an aggravating contradiction. When your orders were dispensed by General Skywalker, he made no protest of the leadership role in which you were placed, he even seemed to support it. The young Jedi was eager to use your knowledge and experience to the Republic's advantage. Yet in the General's absence, and you were all but sidelined, being placed in tertiary advancement parties or sent on patrol.

Rex was cautious and slow to trust. You could live with that, but what made your head spin was his kindness during downtime between missions. He would make a point of talking to you and bringing you caff in the morning. On occasion, he'd even slip and use your nickname, though that always seemed to bring a shade of pink to his cheeks, which he tried to hide behind his bucket before you could take notice. If you didn't know any better you'd think he liked you.

You were closing in on the signal. The pinging of the long range scanner on your HUD changed pitch, and auditory indicator that you were within two clicks of the Separatists ship. You signaled Jesse and Fives, who were to your right. Both acknowledged and opened the throttle on their speeders. Begrudgingly, you fell in line behind them, several lengths behind, your request to be placed on point for the scout mission having been denied.

You continued along a wide, well worn game trail that bordered a dense forest on one side and a field of vivid purple flowers with bright red filaments on the other. As you stared at Jesse's back, you tried not to think of Rex. You tried not to think of how handsome he looked when he smiled or the way his laugh sounded. You tried not to think of how his kama swayed around his hips when he walked. Or the way you ached for his hands to be inside you, or how you wanted to open your mouth wide for his throbbing coc-

A large creature burst through the treeline and broadsided you, knocking you off your speeder. The sudden redirection of your forward momentum sent you flying into the flowers. As you tumbled, your helmet fell off. When you finally skidded to a halt, you were covered in bright red pollen. You coughed and tried to brush it away, but your gloves were covered as well, so all you succeeded in doing was inhale more than you already had.

Stumbling to your feet, you found your helmet and staggered back to the trail, coughing and spitting as you walked. Whatever animal had collided with you was long gone. Jesse and Fives circled back to see that the problem was, though your speeder had crashed into the forest and was a smoking pile.

"Are you okay?" Fives asked, jogging to you. "The hell happened?"

Your vision blurred for a moment but you shook it away, "Something knocked me off my speeder."

Fives looked you up and down, "You had a good roll in those flowers, that's for sure. Any injuries?"

As you tried to answer, your skin was suddenly hypersensitive against your compression suit and your sense of smell heightened. You became a little dizzy as your blood thundered through your veins. Perhaps most startling was the sudden and unrelenting throbbing of your clit and tingling of your nipples.

"I...I gotta go back," you cryptically admitted. "Those plants...I think I'm having some sort of allergic reaction. You guys go ahead. I'll head back on foot."

Jesse and Fives exchanged a concerned glance.

"We need to report back to base. Someone should come get you if you're having a reaction," Fives said, opening his comm.

You sat down and tried to calm your racing heart. Jesse crouched near you and took your face in a hand to check your eyes, but the smell of his skin was intoxicating. You'd never felt that pull to him before. Sure he was handsome, but he was a friend. Why did your panties suddenly dampen at his scent?

"Rex is on his way," he announced.

Oh, kriff...

"Once he picks you up, we'll continue to the target."

Fives gave you his canteen. After taking a drink, you used some to wash your face and hands free of pollen. The cold water felt good in your hot skin, but the watchful eyes of the two men standing near you quickly replaced the heat. Your mind wandered as you imagined what it would be like to be between them, a tangle of limbs, tongues, and sticky flesh. Fives in front, Jesse behind both lavishing your body and bring you to a shattering-

"Are you going to be okay?"

You snapped out of your powerful daydream. Fives was kneeling in front of you, a hand on your shoulder, his face close. His calm breath felt cooling on your sweating face, but his eyes were worried. Though all you could think about was the growing pool of arousal and throbbing ache at the apex of thighs. Your pupils were blown wide despite the bright sun and his voice sounded miles away as you focused on his lips. Maker, you've never felt so painfully aroused in your entire life.

On the periphery, you heard a speeder approach. Fives looked up and stood, vanishing from your fixed view on the ground. Voices conversed and he approached. You looked up his body, eyes stopping for a long pause on his codpiece before continuing to his face, his gorgeous chiseled face.

Rex...

He crouched in front of you and placed a hand on the side of your face, assessing your condition. A breath caught in your throat and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning at his touch. You knew what you wanted, what you needed, and who you wanted to give it to you, but you clung to your shredded propriety. If you could just make it back to your cabin, it would all be okay.

"What happened? Can you ride?"

I could ride you all night...

Biting back the salacious words, you simply nodded that yes, you could ride. Guiding you back to his speeder, Rex helped you on. Then he collected a sample of the flower so Kix could figure out what the hell was going on. He swung a leg over and seated himself behind you and took off. The proximity of his body to yours nearly sent you into a frenzy. All the mixed yet flickering feelings you had for Rex suddenly ignited into a blaze as he opened the throttle and took off.

The vibrations of the speeder made your body burn and it was all you could do to hold back the wanton moan by biting your lip. Sweat soaked your face under your helmet as your visor fogged from your heavy breathing. The ache between your legs became painful as your swollen clit hung at the edge of release, making your legs shake. Your armor was suffocating, your skin tingled.

"You have to stop!" you called over the comm.

"Why? What's wrong?" he asked, easing the throttle.

"Just STOP!" you demanded.

Rex killed the throttle and angled the speeder to stop quickly. Ripping your helmet off as you panted, your fists clenched at your thighs. From behind, you felt his eyes watching your every movement. Although he seemed concerned, in your mind, you assumed he thought it was just as likely a trick or double cross. Perhaps worse, a mark of your incompetence. His next movement caught you off guard and utterly disarmed you as his right hand left the speeder controls, and gently gripped your upper arm.

"What can I do?" His voice was soothing and caring, free from the vocoder of his helmet.

You looked over your shoulder at him sharply, no longer able to withhold the words that clawed their way from your mouth, "Fuck me."

His eyes blew wide. Shocked and taken aback by your request, he struggled to find a reply, "I- we shouldn't- you aren't thinking clearly."

"Look, I don't know what that plant has done to me, but I'm in agony. I need your help, I'm begging you."

Rex was conflicted. He'd be lying if he didn't admit part of him...all of him...had been pining for you since the day you met. He never imagined meeting someone as seasoned, intelligent and beautiful as you. His deep, dark secret was that it was your face behind his closed eyes, your voice lingering in his ears as he pumped the tension from his body in the morning, after waking from the achingly vivid dreams of you. He could never admit that, if he didn't work his rigid cock before seeing you, he wouldn't be able to focus on any given task. That instead he would watch you in a nearly predatory fashion, leering at your body, wishing he could do every past debauched thing that came to mind.

And there you were, eyes dark and lustful, body heaving with desire. An open, desperate invitation to take what he wanted, what he had been aching for months to experience in the flesh. But was your desire truly for him? Was it some reaction to this plant? Did he care?

Before he could answer, you loosed an exasperated shout of frustration at his silence and stumbled off the speeder. Your stride staggered as you walked, trying to avoid the friction from the seam of your compression suit grazing your aching clit, despite the arousal which soaked the entirety of your upper thighs. Knowing Rex was watching, you bit back the wanton moans and straightened your spine. You still had your pride, damn it. If he wasn't going to help you, you'd deal with it yourself, as you always did.

With each step, you stripped off your armor, leaving a clear trail to the boulder you planned to use for a measure of privacy. Once out of view, leaned back against the rock and plunged your hands into your heat, flicking and stroking your burning, engorged cunt, chasing any measure of release. Uncaring that your crush was still within ear shot, you freely moaned and cried, letting go all you had been stuffing down for the sake of your dignity. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes and tried to set yourself into a fantasy, hoping it would help you orgasm.

Despite your experience at self-gratification, you weren't able to reach the peak you needed. Your fingers just weren't long or thick enough as you reached for that delicious spongy pad. You couldn't get enough friction to your clit before your hand began to cramp. Tears stung in your eyes at your desperation to make this nightmare end. Then you heard a groan to your right. Snapping your head to the sound, your heart pounded in your ears as Rex stood there, mouth agape at and eyes hungrily consuming you, as his helmet slipped from his grasp.

What a sight you must be, suit pushed halfway down your hips, hands buried in your heat, face burning and pupils blown wide. For a moment you tried to continue. Perhaps the thrill of him watching would push you over the edge, but as your eyes fell closed and you worked your body, his degloved hands suddenly seized yours, yanking them away from your pussy. His chest heaved as he stood before you, indecision etched on his face, despite his lustful gaze.

"Let me go," you cried. "If you won't help me-"

"I'll help you," he breathed. "I just...I need you to say it again, so I know there's no question."

Your surging heart raced faster as the thrill anticipation ignited in your gut, "Rex, I need you to fuck me as hard as you can. Make me cum, please."

Need, he thought. Okay, that's all this is then. She needs your cock, she doesn't want you.

Releasing your wrists, his mouth latched into your neck, sucking and marking the thin skin with his teeth while his hands rucked your shirt and binder up your chest. A calloused hand gripped your breast tightly, rolling your tingling nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking and pulling until you moaned into his ear. His hand traveled down your waist and dipped into your suit. He groaned as he ran his fingers across your slick folds, gathering your arousal. The broad side of his index finger began flicking across your clit while the tip of the next digit teased your entrance.

Within seconds you were a writhing mess as your hips bucked into his hand. Two thick fingers plunged into your pussy, delivering a taste of the stretch and fullness you had been searching for. Drawing his fingers out part way, he pushed deeper, curling and stroking that aching place. Your howling moans drove him deeper, his hips starting to instinctively rut against your leg. As incredible as it felt, you continued to linger at the precipice.

Rex knew you needed more by your change in pitch. Drawn praises gave way to whimpering cries as you squeezed your eyes shut. Without prompt, he dropped to his knees and pushed your suit down, spreading your legs as wide as he could. As you realized what was happening he plunged mouth first into your cunt, lips immediately latching into your stiff clit. Much to your surprise, a primal groan ripped from his chest as his tongue swirled and flicked.

"Rex, fuuuuck!!" your hands raked across his buzzed scalp trying to find purchase.

He pulled back just far enough to take a gulping breath, chin already soaked with your arousal, "Maker, I knew you'd taste amazing."

His words made your stomach clench. He'd thought about that? Before you could focus on the implications, he resumed eating you like a man starved. The vibrations from his visceral grunts and groans as he savored you sent chills up and down your body. Stroking you with his deliciously thick fingers, his free hand held you still at the crest of your pelvis in a vice-like grip. You'd likely have bruises, but you didn't care. Looking down, you were met by his intense, burning gaze as he lavished your dripping pussy. The sight made you dizzy. Feeling his hands on you, in you, his mouth consuming you was a fever dream come true, but it still wasn't enough to give you release.

"More," you panted. "Please, I need more."

Begrudgingly, he pulled away, sucking hard on your clit before releasing it with a pop. He longed to spend days between your legs, his face buried in your dripping cunt, savoring your sweet tang until he'd had his fill. But it wasn't about his want, it was about your need. You didn't want him the way he wanted you. You only needed him to get past whatever had taken hold of you. It was why he resisted the desire to kiss your lips and why he spun you around to fuck you from behind. As much as he wanted for more with you, he couldn't trust himself not to get carried away, not to get intimate.

You braced your hands against the boulder and widened your stance. On the periphery you heard his codpiece hit the ground with a dull thud. Glancing back you saw him and was he ever a sight to behold. Chest heaving, eyes wide and lustful, weeping cock in hand, fist pumping his length to ready himself. If you'd known that was hiding behind his codpiece...you bit your lower lips and whimpered in anticipation, your heat already quivering around nothing.

Steadying your hip with a firm hand, he lined himself up and began rolling his hips into you. As he breached your entrance, a long, satisfied groan pulled from your chest. The stretch of your cunt as he steadily buried himself into you, inch by inch, push by push until he was hilted inside you was everything you had ached for. Finally, at long last, you felt filled. His other hand gripped your shoulder as he began with a firm, steady pace, nearly dragging cock out of you entirely before plunging back into you. It wasn't a lazy stride, and on at any other time it would have been more than enough to make you cum, but they particular day it wasn't. You pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, trying to spur him on. After waiting so long for your release, you weren't in the mood to be patient.

"H-h-arder!" you grunted the order. "Rex, harder!"

His breath caught in surprise and he complied. Pulling you closer, he threaded a hand into your disheveled hair and held your upper arm in a white knuckled grip. He mercilessly pounded his armored thighs against the tender flesh of your full ass. The bite of his cuisses was a pleasurable pain that drove heat straight to your cunt. Arousal spurted across his pelvis with as every deep thrust as he split you open to stroke as he to the spongy epicenter of your ecstasy with his thck cock.

"This what you need?" he panted, voice raw and gruff. "You needed to be fucked like a whore? Fuck your tight pussy almost can't handle me."

The words fell from his mouth before he thought better of what he was saying. Part of him feared he was crossing a line, but as you moaned and you began to tremble around him, he realized you liked it. Releasing your hair, his hand slid around your waist as he pulled you upright by the grip on your arm. The hand on your belly drifted down until the pads of his calloused fingers found your clit. Two digits mercilessly stroked the swollen bundle as his teeth raked across your neck.

Your legs trembled and nearly gave out. He was giving you exactly what you needed. Gone were moaning praises as you were reduced to incoherent panting. Your bodies moved and writhed as one, fitting together so perfectly well. He released your arm and wrapped it around your waist, gripping a breast. The sound of his heavy breathing over your shoulder and the smell of his hot body behind you permeated your senses. Maker, you were so close.

"Come all over my, cock" he whispered your name, your real name darkly, then chuckled at your wanton gasp. "Let go, just like that. That's my girl."

His filthy words pitched you over the edge. Your cunt pulsed around him, clamping and releasing tightly. He loosed a series of primal grunts at the sensation, his hips bucking harder and deeper as you rode your orgasm. You howled his name in praise, finally feeling the wave after wave of relief deep inside.

Once your pussy finally stilled, he abruptly pulled out. It wasn't easy to do, his own release had been building and was only a handful thrusts behind yours, but he resisted it. As much as he liked you, as much as he had wanted to have sex with you, deriving pleasure from the circumstances in which you found yourselves felt morally dubious. So instead of fisting his cock to completion, he stopped and stepped away.

"Better?" He asked, stuffing his erection, soaking with your juices, back in his suit.

"Yeah," you replied, resting your back against the boulder as you caught your breath. "But you didn't-"

"Take a couple minutes to get collected," he interjected crisply, his eyes avoiding you. "We need to get back to base camp. Fives and Jesse will be checking in soon."

The entire situation felt like a tangled mess. A knot of regret twisted in his gut. He wanted you so badly, he ignored his better judgment and took advantage of you and hated himself for it. Picking up his codpiece and brushing the dirt away, he forced it back into place despite the discomfort of his still hard member. Suppressing a pained groan, he straightened his spine and squared his shoulders as he walked away, only stopping to angrily snatch his helmet from the ground.

As he left, you were crestfallen. Tears welled in your eyes as you shuffled your compression suit back into place and collected your armor. The nature of your relationship with him had always been a confusing brew of mixed messages and the things he said while fucking you gave the indication that perhaps he felt the same way. But it was abundantly clear in the aftermath that he didn't and likely never would. Instead he seemed put off by you more than ever before.

Pushing the heels of your hands into your burning eyes, now burning for a different reason than before, you refocused your feelings and bucked up. Your heart was still racing and your body still hummed from whatever reaction that pollen was causing. You were still worked up and craved another release, but at least you could walk straight and your head was clearing from the fog of unrestrained desire.

You found your armor neatly stacked by the boulder. Dressing quickly, you returned to the speeder, which Rex sat astride, waiting, one hand on the controls the other resting on his hip. Although his helmet was on once more, it was obvious he was avoiding eye contact. Without speaking, he shifted so you could climb on, in front of him. As much as you suddenly didn't want to give him the satisfaction of needing his protection, a wave of dizziness lingered and you didn't want to risk the chance of injury.

Resentfully, you sat in front of him and bit back the pained hiss as the raw places on the backs of your thighs came in resting contact with your own cuisses on the seat. You tolerated the inescapable comfort of his shoulders curved toward yours and his chest at your back as he took off at full speed. The ride was silent. As the camp came into view and the speeder slowed, you heard the internal channel between your helmets open. Rex took a breath as though to say something, but didn't. Only the sustained sound of dead air hung between you for a long moment before the channel closed.

The speeder had barely stopped before you jumped off and jogged to the comm station. Kix, who was standing by, gave you a confused look as you bounded past, seemingly unaffected.Rex sighed heavily as you went, shutting down the speeder and kicking his leg over to stand.

"I thought she was having a reaction," the medic said as Rex approached.

"She was," he replied, handing him the sample. "I want a full workup. I need to know how that affected her."

"What were her symptoms? Did she do anything to help it pass?"

"You'll have to ask her," Rex cryptiy answered as his face got hot under his bucket at the questions.

Inside the comm station, you leaned over the console asking the corporal for an update. Fives and Jesse hadn't checked in yet. As you settled in to wait, two fingers tapped on your shoulder. Suppressing an annoyed sigh and roll of your eyes, you turned, knowing exactly who was waiting behind you.

"Kix will take you to the Resolute for evaluation," Rex ordered through his vocoder.

"No," you definitely replied, crossing your arms across your chest.

It wasn't the answer he expected, as evident the hesitation before continuing, "I'm not asking. Until we know what affected you-"

"Respectfully Captain, I walked away from my life, my family to turn this intel over to the Republic because it was the right thing to do. I'm not missing the rest of my operation."

"Respectfully," his spine straightened and chest puffed as he bit the syllables of your name, "this isn't your operation. You can go with Kix to the medbay willingly or I can compel you to."

"You have no right-"

His voice dropped and he glanced around the tent, "I have every right. You're in a compromised state and will not have you compromising my men, either in the field or at base camp. Have I made myself clear?"

You'd had enough of his games. The mixed signals, the near flirting, the caring but then disregard, fucking the life out of you then gazing on you with revulsion, it was more than you had ever out up with from a man and you weren't going to take another second of it. You closed the small distance to him and tilted your chin up to his helmeted face.

"Funny, you didn't seem to mind my compromised state on the way back. You worried I might need some help when you're not around? And what exactly would you do to...compel me, Captain?"

Rex audibly sucked in a breath at your brash statement. The suggestion dripping in your one made his lingering erection swell and throb. Although your voice was hushed, Kix gave him an inquisitive look when you grabbed your helmet and brushed past him. Muttering prick under your breath, you stormed to the waiting shuttle. He called your name and moved to follow you, but the corporal stopped him.

"Sir, ARC Fives is reporting in. He says it's urgent."

Swearing to himself, he paused and opened the comm. When he turned back, you were hopping up tk the shuttle with Kix. Even from that distance, he could see the hurt and anger in your eyes. As much as he wanted to chase after you and explain, there was no time. The ship departed and Fives was barking in his ear. Whatever needed to happen, it would have to wait.

First Aid - Part II

[twistedsarchive]

Prologue: Shattered

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter One: Pursuit

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Upon freeing Mandalore from Maul’s wicked grip, Rex and Ahsoka chart a course for Coruscant and, perhaps, victory.

Warnings: No major warnings. Canonical events of Order 66 briefly recounted

Word Count: 1k

It was almost over. Rex could hardly believe it, but it was true. Count Dooku was dead and General Kenobi was hot on the mechanical heels of General Grievous, readying to engage him on Utupau. The 332nd had captured Maul. They had taken him alive no less, and freed Mandalore from his grip and the Sith was ready and willing to talk, to lay bare all the vast details he knew upon the arrival of the Tribunal on Coruscant. In a matter of hours, the war would finally be over. 

As he walked through the bridge alongside Ahsoka, he thought about his fallen brothers. How many had he lost since his life began? Had the Republic kept track? Did that theoretical record reflect their names rather than their numbers? Would the Republic honor their sacrifice and memorialize the brave men who gave their lives in the name of freedom? Or would they be a forgotten casualty, a tool that had served its purpose and waiting to be cast aside or left to decay from disuse? Even if the Senate wouldn't remember them, he was determined to honor his brothers, one way or another.

His thoughts drifted to Shepard. The months of silence had been unbearable, but he was forced to set his worry and longing aside for the sake of his duty. Like a good soldier. He had his orders and she had hers. With the war poised to end, he hoped to make contact with her to apologize, to ask her forgiveness and, if he was lucky, to be able to work through their unresolved fight and pick back up where they left off from the ellipsis in their relationship after Fives died. Maybe General Skywalker would even allow him to go to Kamino to speak to her in person. 

Standing at the windows, shoulder to shoulder with Ahsoka, they watched as the stars became streaks with the activation of the hyperdrive. In a flash, they were underway in the final leg of their long journey. His eyes flicked to her, familiar with the expression of deep thought she wore. It hardly seemed possible the resilient young woman next to him was the same gangly youth that showed up on Christophsis without warning just three years prior and changed everything. Gone was her brash, inexperienced confidence, replaced with the wisdom from many hard lessons. She still had the same spark of mischief in her eyes, but the child, the padawan, was gone.

"Something…on your mind?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"As a Jedi," she answered softly, "we were trained to be keepers of the peace, not soldiers. But all I've been since I was a padawan is a soldier."

"Well, I've known no other way," he began, almost uncertain of his words. “Gives us clones all a mixed feeling about war. Many people wished it never happened, but without it…we clones wouldn't exist."

As he spoke, she turned to him, seeming to find comfort in his words, "Well, then perhaps some good has come from all of it. The Republic couldn't have asked for better soldiers, nor I a better friend."

The sparkle in her eye as she her lips pulled upward into a smile helped put both their uncertainties at ease. Ahsoka raised her right hand to her forehead, giving him protocol and respect as her equal, displaying it in a salute what she had always shown in practice in the field. He returned the gesture, the smile in his face reflexively stiffening from a lifetime of training, though inside he beamed. For better or worse they, and the Republic as a whole, stood at the cusp of a new era. There were wounds to heal, bonds to mend, but as long as they worked together, perhaps they could all prosper. 

An officer approached from the adjoining comm room, "Commander Rex, the latest briefing has come in."

He nodded at the officer and turned to Ahsoka, eyes still smiling, "Want to have a look? It might have an update on General Kenobi's efforts."

There was a moment's hesitation, "You go. I'm sure it's more good news."

With a nod, he followed the officer through the blast door, feeling hopeful. As it slid shut, the holotable illuminated. He expected to see the familiar face of General Windu or Cody, he expected good news, but instead an ominous, hooded figure appeared. His stomach instinctively tensed and all the hairs on his body stood on end against his compression suit. Everything about the mysterious man staring at him with glowing eyes made adrenaline flood his suddenly cold bloodstream. 

But instead of fighting, or even fleeing, Rex stood paralyzed at the holotable. His head was filled with a crescendo of static for a moment before a dense cloud fell over his mind. It felt like an inky anesthetic, as though he was being numbed and put under conscious sedation. He struggled against it, as he had when Ventress tried to invade his mind on Rotta at the start of the war. As he had during the private, unsettling conversation in Chancellor Palpatine’s office before Shepard's return some six rotations prior. 

Shepard!

He fought back against the veil, realizing all at once what was happening, but it was too late. It was what he had refused to hear from Kix as they were on route to Anaxes, stalled by the fear of losing yet another brother to whatever dark forces were at work. What Shepard had tried to tell him, tried to stop it well before any of them were the wiser. She tried to save Fives, knowing he held the truth that could have unraveled the entire plan. Fives…Fives was right.

The mastermind of it all stood glowing before him on the holotable. It was a face he recognized without ever seeing. A name he knew without ever speaking. The specter that haunted his dreams, his brother's dreams, on their never ending mission. His mental strength was fading, his inner voice dwindling as the phantom, their Sith Lord, their master, uttered the single command that wiped away all their individuality, independence, and free will in an instant. As though they never had it at all.

"Execute Order 66."

“Yes, Lord Sideous.”

[cw80831]

I love crossovers. Lets get this started. 😁

[twistedsarchive]

Hope you enjoy the ride!

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter Six: Into the Fire

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter Five: Pivot Point

Chapter Seven:

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to The Empire. With everything they fought for destroyed, there's little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledged their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: As new alliances are forged, new enemies appear.

Warnings: Canonical dark-side violence

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Breha Organa asked as the ship hovered above the landing pad for a moment before gently touching down on the duracrete.

“It’s a little late to back out,” Bail replied in jest, trying to use a little humor to assuage his wife’s unease.

The joke was met with a sharp exhale through her nose, “You know I support what you’re trying to do, but bringing her here…”

“Padmé trusted her.”

“And how well did that work out for Padmé?” The moment the barbed words left her mouth she regretted them, wishing she hadn’t spoken them aloud. "I'm sorry. That was unfair.”

A pause hung between the couple as the craft cycled down and ramp lowered.

“I know it’s a risk. But we need help like hers. She saw what many missed. I trust her, Breha.”

“Let’s hope you’re right about this,” she straightened her posture an inch taller as a Shepard descended the ramp.

“Give her a chance. I think you may like her,” Bail affectionately bumped his elbow to his wife’s shoulder with a smirk. “She’s notoriously stubborn, too.”

After proper introductions, they flew through the city to the palace, where the royal family lived. The city was inescapably beautiful, a stark contrast of gleaming spires amongst the lush green of the forest at the edge of the metropolis. Clear skies, bright light, and meticulous care was on display as the shuttle landed. Queen Breha took her leave, stating the demands of her position, though Shepard knew the requirement of plausible deniability when she saw it. Without a doubt, the purpose of her meeting with the venerable Senator was nothing short of treasonous in the eyes of the Emperor, so the less knowledge of their exchange the better, though the shrewd monarch also likely knew much more than she led on.

Senator Organa led her to a monochromatic sitting room, white like much of the rest of the living area, save for specific, intentional decorations adding much needed color and warmth to the room. On his gesture, she sat, keen eyes taking the details of the space.

“I hope the journey agreed with you,” Bail stated, seating himself on the couch opposite her.

“It agreed well enough,” she answered. “I haven’t been doing much deep space travel, so the trip felt longer than it would have five years ago.”

He nodded slowly, “I heard of what you attempted to do from Kamino. That you tried to stop Order 66.”

“Tried and failed. Though I must assume that means Kenobi survived his duel on Mustafar,” she concluded. “I also heard Anakin still breathes, one way or another.”

“You’ve stayed informed.”

“I fell behind, but had reason to catch up.” She paused to study her host for a moment, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “I visited the moon where the Tribunal crashed. I know two souls survived the wreck. Even looked for them before returning home. I don’t suppose you’ve seen either of them recently?”

“I saw her, only her, on Naboo at Padme’s funeral.”

“I heard she had died. I’m so sorry. She was truly a force for good,” her gaze shifted around the room briefly, eyes searching for hidden ears. “She was the reason I found my way home. Doesn’t feel like I thanked her properly.”

“You did,” he affirmed. “You came back, you fought to preserve life, and end the war. Find the root, rotten that it was.”

“The fight is why I’m here. As long as the Empire thinks I’m dead, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to cause them some problems. But I have to ask: The Geth message you sent. Was that just bait to pique my interest or do you have a solid lead on unrecovered units?”

“I have a rumor. It’s substantiated, but still only a rumor.”

He removed a holoprojector disc from his pocket and set it on the table between them. The device illuminated and played a short holovid. An imposing woman appeared, dressed in black, her face angry but focused. Long hair was pulled back into tight plaits with strands flowing free down her back. A prominent scare transected her face, from above her left brow, across her nose, and onto her right cheek. Her face was illuminated by the crimson glow of a lightsaber.

“Where is the Jedi?” She demanded. “I have tracked him to this village. Tell us where he is if you value your lives.”

Terrified whimpers answered her demands. Although she paused for a long time, waiting for someone to relent, no one did. With a wave of her hand, a squad of Geth, lights glowing ominous red instead of white, stepped forward and opened fire. The screams and cries of the innocent people played for a moment before the vid fractured and cut off.

Anger rolled in Shepard’s veins, knowing they hadn't chosen that fate, "When did that happen? Where?"

“The exact date is unknown, however my contacts confirmed the village is on Ja'alak, a former Separatist outpost that is presently under Imperial occupation. It’s rumored to be part of a network used to shuttle surviving Jedi to safety."

“That woman. Who is she?”

“Her name is unknown to me, though she was once a Jedi that has turned to the dark side to act on Lord Vader’s behalf. They are called Inquisitors. Jedi hunters."

“How many are there?”

“Also unknown. Their existence is not spoken of openly.”

Shepard exhaled, “And what of resistance to the Empire? Organizing, mobilizing, fighting back.”

“I’m afraid that is…complicated. The propaganda from Coruscant was ready the moment the purge began. An unquestioned story of safety and security, a galaxy of law and order has been pushed across all channels and, unfortunately, most people have little reason to question it. News is heavily regulated by the Empire and there are few leaks. By keeping the people content and oblivious, the Empire has been able to spread to the far reaches of the galaxy, sector by sector, planet by planet with little resistance.”

“That doesn’t mean people aren’t fighting back,” she countered.

“Indeed, but it does mean rebel cells are small and isolated.”

Again she exhaled, thinking of the possible plays, “Where is Kenobi now? He could be useful in fighting the Empire.”

The sudden shift in conversation caught Bail off guard. His body language revealed a telling tension in his spine that didn’t go unnoticed. Although he clearly trusted her enough to bring her to his home, there was still something he was hiding. For the life of her she couldn’t figu- a shadow moved just outside the room. Rather than call attention to it, she observed on the periphery and waited.

“I do not know where he is,” he finally answered.

A lie. But a necessary one. Why.

“When did you last see him?” She pressed.

Clearly, he noticed the shift as well. He knew she was trying to solve the puzzle he hoped she wouldn’t notice. As he calculated his reply, she also worked through the possibilities. Obviously, any living Jedi wasn’t safe and she assumed he would go into hiding, but why the lie? The conflicted trust was confounding but also revealing. In her gut, she had her suspicions, but she also prayed it wasn’t actually true, that she was wrong. Before she could answer, the shadow she previously noticed grew a face, then her eyes couldn’t resist the urge to meet the inquisitive pools peering from around the corner.

“Hello there,” Shepard greeted, prompting Bail to turn suddenly in his seat.

“It seems the walls have eyes and ears," he sighed with mild frustration and drooping shoulders. “You might as well come out. We know you’re there. Time to be polite after spying.”

After a reluctant moment, a young girl appeared. Her chestnut hair was intricately braided, similar to the queen's. She was dressed in a simple cream tunic and deep red trousers, both Of which were blotched with dirt. Most striking of all were her brown eyes against her porcelain skin. Those were eyes she’d know anywhere, eyes she never thought she’d see again.

Remembering her protocol for meeting royalty, Shepard stood and waited for the young princess to stand before her. “Your highness,” she bowed in respect. “I am Captain Shepard, a friend of your father’s.”

“Princess Leia Organa,” she answered crisply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

Bail hummed a smile, “Leia, we’ve talked about spying, haven’t we?”

“Yes, father,” her face fell with his gentle scrutiny.

“Well, you’ve listened enough. Run along, I’m sure the governess is looking for you.”

“Yes, father,” she repeated and turned to leave, but not without looking back at Shepard with a small smile curling at the edge of her mouth.

”Our rebellious daughter.”

“Adopted?” Shepard said neutrally.

He nodded imperceptibly.

“She looks about five,” she kept her eyes on the conspicuously confident girl as she walked down the middle of the hallway, her head held high.

“She is.”

Her eyes flicked to him, “And Obi-wan?”

At that, he had no choice but to relent, “With her brother, some place safe.”

“From the man that fathered them,” she concluded.

“Yes.”

"You have a great deal to protect.”

“I risk the same as anyone else who resists the Empire: my community, my family, and my life.”

She nodded. “I am here to collect intel and assess the situation as it pertains to my sector. If a mission is approved, I will be funded by the Citadel Council and given the laterality to engage as I deem appropriate, but I’ll need more than a grainy holovid of corrupted Geth and a razed village to secure their approval.”

“I’m afraid airtight intelligence is difficult to come by. This is the best my contacts could come up with.”

“Not good enough.”

“Captain-”

“You asked for my help,” she interjected firmly. “I’m here because I want to join the fight, but you asked for my help. You’re asking me to risk my sector’s safety. Trillions of lives from a dozen different advanced species. If you want my Council to play ball, you’re going to have to do better than ‘I know a guy’. I need a contact.”

Bail deliberated for a moment, weighing the risks and benefits of such an action. “He’s an antiques dealer on Coruscant. He won’t appreciate the brashness,” he cautioned, “But if it will extend abundant good faith, he will oblige.”

“Thank you. Where is his store located?”

“On the surface. He caters to a high end clientele. You will need to dress and spend the part.”

“Fancy clothes with deep pockets. Noted,” she sighed internally. The capital of the Empire was the last place she wanted to go, but if the mission demanded it…“Early reports on Coruscant said there was some push back among the clones after the war ended. I imagine a loyal officer would be in the middle of it, helping his brothers. Is there any chance he’s still lurking in the lower levels?”

“Unfortunately the clone army was officially decommissioned several years ago. All surviving clones were retired from their posts and removed from Coruscant. The captain was there for a period, but I have not heard word of his current location.”

A discouraged sigh escaped her nose. She shouldn’t have given up on him. Rather than turn tail and limp back to Earth, she should have refitted herself and gone returned to Coruscant. It was the one place she hadn’t looked, hadn’t dared to venture. If she’d had half a quad, she could have found him.

”I will say though,” he continued, “if you have the opportunity…you should visit Pabu before returning to your sector. I hear the sunsets are unmatched.”

Her head cocked to the left at the comment, taking his meaning immediately, “The Council will want a full report of Ja'alak. My team and I will investigate for leads.”

“Of course,” he nodded and followed suit. “I will secure travel credentials for you and notify my contact of arrival.”

“Thank you,” she extended her hand, which he shook in return.

“Thank you, Captain,” he replied. “Be cautious. The Imperial Security Bureau has eyes and ears everywhere. Don’t trust anyone, even the kindest villager.”

“I’ll be careful, Bail,” she reassured.

Panicked breaths echoed in the still, dry air between the repetitive grind of salt under booted feet. She clutched the warm bundle in her arms, holding that most precious cargo to her chest as she ran blindly into the darkness. Behind her, the strangled cry of her partner, and the deafening silence that followed, compelled her forward. Even at night, for those fully equipped and prepared, venturing into the vast, crystalline wasteland verged on suicide. Only the truly desperate attempted to cross The Pan.

“May the Force be with you, Shepard.”

She ran until her lungs burned and legs threatened to give out beneath her. Hot tears streamed down her dirt caked face, leaving behind trails of fear and grief. Her stride faltered and she collapsed to her knees. Agony choked from her throat silencing her, save for the staccato of her whispered sobs. Too exhausted to run, too exhausted to fight, she breathed a stream of apologies into the bundle.

Pulling back the warm blanket, she stared lovingly at the sleeping face. She committed to memory the long lashes resting against those smooth cheeks and the bowed lips that occasionally parted as a sleepy tongue suckled at an imagined breast. A fresh wave of grief swept over her, knowing her eyes looked their last on the life she had grown within her body. Despite every effort they had made and how careful they had been, ultimately, they had failed. Before long, the ominous sound of salt crunching underfoot approached, filling her with dread. The inevitable had reached them.

“Please, don’t take her,” she buried her face against the blanket. “She’s only a baby. She isn’t a threat to anyone.”

A figure, cloaked and clad in black, ominously stood several paces away. At their back were three Geth, likewise painted black with glowing red optics. The figure didn’t move, instead continuing to watch with the endless patience of an expert hunter. Afterall, it was why the Emperor himself gave them such missions.

“She’ll never know of her gifts,” the mother pleaded for one last chance to escape, narrow that it was. “We’ll keep walking. We’ve no water or supplies. The Pan will kill us by midday, anyway. Please, just don’t take her from me.”

At that, the figure moved forward in soundless, fluid strides. The weeping mother turned her face upward to gaze into the face that had been hunting them for weeks. Despite the illumination from the planet’s twin full moons, a dark shadow cast across the hunter’s face. It was as though the figure was but a phantom, a stalking curator of death, faceless and hidden. The mother flinched and turned the bundle away from the figure when a hand was raised to pull back the hood, revealing the face of a woman.

“Calm, little mother,” the woman crooned in a song-like tone, “You do not want to wake the baby, do you?” She took the mother’s elbow and nudged her to stand.

Complying, the mother found her feet, though her legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. “Please…you don’t have to do this.”

“But, you see I must. Your child is very important to the Emperor,” she pulled aside the edge of the blanket to peer at the sleeping babe. “Give her to me and I will not spill your blood.”

The mother’s insatiable instinct to run suddenly vanished as she stood next to the hunter. Her racing thoughts quieted and her grief muted. She felt as though she were in a dreamstate, watching herself from outside her own body. Part of her knew it was a vicious mind trick, but that part was quickly swallowed and silenced. Unable to resist the coaxing whispers that rippled through her mind, she relinquished her child.

”Thank you,” the hunter cradled the bundle tenderly. “Now, little mother. Walk. Continue your journey into The Pan. Your husband is waiting for you on the other side.”

“Waiting for me…” she muttered in a trance and started to walk in an exhausted shuffle.

The hunter watched the mother go. A long shadow cast against the stark white of the salt pans as she went. To the hunter’s right, the modified Geth platform approached and raised a long-range rifle, taking careful aim.

“No,” the hunter breathed. “Let The Pan take her. It was how she wanted to die. Take the baby to the ship and put it in stasis.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” the Geth answered in a thickly modulated voice.

Behind them, her ship landed and the platform lowered. As the three Geth entered the ship, a fourth emerged from the cockpit and approached her.

“Inquisitor Perth, a proximity alert has been activated on Ja’alak.” It held up a holoprojector, displaying two human females and a Geth platform walking into frame.

“Is this a live feed?” She asked.

“No. The transmission was recorded two planetary cycles ago.”

“Do you recognize them?”

“No, Inquisitor. This unit’s current programming houses no prior record of these humans or the Geth.”

She took the projector and studied the image, particularly the woman in the lead. As they moved through the ruined village, they paused near the hidden proximity marker to speak.

“Jack, you find anything?” She asked, holstering a pistol and activating a scanning device.

“No, Shepard,” Jack replied.

“It does not appear anyone has occupied this settlement since it was razed,” the Geth added.

“No surprise,” Shepard distractedly commented. “I’m picking up a signal though.”

“Shepard…” the Inquisitor muttered to herself.

Holding out her arm, the glowing orange device beeped and trilled as she closed in. The image shook as the deliberately placed pieces of rubble were removed until the entire transmitter was pulled from the sandy ground. For a moment, Shepard stared into the glowing red lens without speaking. Through the visor of her helmet, her eyes squinted in a smile before she dropped the device to the ground. With the heel of her boot, Shepard stomped the transmitter, making the hologram flicker. A second blow cut the feed all together.

“G1,” she quietly called, a shrewd smile of her own growing on her face briefly, “Access the docking records on Ja’alak. I want to know all the ships that arrived and departed in the same planetary cycle through the port nearest the village.”

”Yes, Inquisitor,” G1 replied, ascending the ramp.

After settling into the cockpit, the ship effortlessly rose from the sand. As they passed over the delirious, childless mother, Inquisitor Perth’s eyes stayed on her until the long shadows of sand jackals trotting in the woman’s direction caught her focus. Death arrived swiftly that night.

Once the ship broke through the atmosphere, a shuttle detached from the main ship.

“G2, deliver the target and request the next mission,” she ordered over the comm.

”Yes, Inquisitor,” G2 answered and closed the line. A moment later, the ship vanished into hyperspace.

G1 approached and handed her a holopad containing the records she wanted. Her eyes scanned the ship names, models, and credentials until one caught her eye. Highlighting the line, she opened the record. A rotating capture of the ship’s profile flashed on the left side of the screen. The registered name was Allison Gunn, no doubt a cover.

She closed her eyes and took a measured breath in and out, focusing her mind. A moment later, her eyes flicked back open and she returned the holopad to G1, “That is her ship.”

”Should I order docks locked down?”

“No, they have come and gone already,” she rolled her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she thought. “G3, set course for Ja’alak. I want to speak to the port master in person.” A smile curled in the corner of the Inquisitor’s lips.

“The estimated travel time is five hours and seventeen minutes.”

“Good,” she stood from the pilot’s seat. “I will be in my cabin. I do not want to be disturbed.”

G3 nodded obediently as she departed the cockpit and made the short walk to her private quarters. The space was minimal but offered what she needed with the small comfort of a meditation seat and a personal fresher. Rather than immediately wash away the desert she’d spent the prior three days traipsing through, she turned on the console on the corner desk, and accessed the Imperial Citizen Database. Curiosity had always been an insatiable behavior, one for which she was often reprimanded by her master. Lucky for her, he was dead.

The search was simple and the results straightforward. According to the official Imperial filing, Captain L. Jean Shepard was killed during a fire fight on Kamino for resisting capture during the execution of Order 66. A shiver traveled down her spine at the memory of that day. Shaking the sensation away, she reviewed the official report filed by Training Sergeant Grin [CT-4746]. Everything seemed in order until she reviewed the holocam footage of the event.

Between the constant torrential rain, dark night, and the distance between the holorecorder and the landing platform, it was nearly impossible to decipher the details. However, immediately after Sergeant Grin fired the kill shot, the footage skipped and abruptly ended. Returning to the trooper’s report, it stated: Recovery of Captain Shepard’s body was not possible due to a sudden storm surge that washed her remains overboard. She found it terribly convenient that Shepard was declared dead and the file closed without a body or footage of the supposed storm surge.

At that, she abandoned the file, having gleaned the useful data. Standing from the desk, she shed the tight, black layers of textile and leather until she stood naked in her cabin. The breeze of the recycling air settled across her flesh, making every exposed hair stand on end. Despite being freed from the constrictive uniform, she still felt the pressure of the high collar against her throat, as though it was a reminder of when Lord Vader raises his hand in anger.

A menacing chill struck her body, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Invisible pins and needles pricked her skin sharply. Phantom fingers dug into pressure points on her joints, forcing her to curl and crumple to the floor. Her heart pounded in her ears, rapid and throbbing, pumping blood with such intensity her vision pulsed with every beat. Unable to take any more, she fully surrendered to the pain, letting it sweep through her body, following the same blazing trail it always did. Once the worst passed, she took several deep, focused breaths, and she hauled herself to her feet, shuffling to the fresher in the corner of the room.

The sonic shower was as unsatisfying as always, but it was enough to wash away the mission. Exhaustion crept across her limbs as she redressed, though it was not from the mission, but from the cleaving of her soul that came with it. She had been warned at the beginning that the process was not for the weak. That it would be an inferno within the body until all light was extinguished and all that remained was the dark side.

Despite committing herself fully to the Empire, the war still raged within her. Part of her wondered if her fellow Inquisitors shared in the experience, but she dared not ask, lest she risk showing them a weakness. No, it was never a question that would pass her lips and be spoken into existence. Instead, she bore the weight of her actions in silence, determined to rid herself of the light for good.

[twistedsarchive]

Prologue: One Quiet Drink

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect Masterlist

Chapter One: Shore Leave

Series Summary: Captain Rex is sent on shore leave after Umbara. While at 79’s, he meets a woman from a planet he’s never heard of,

Chapter Summary: Commander Jean Shepard has been living on Level 1313 of Coruscant for almost a year following the events of ME3. After a long week, she decided to take herself out for a quiet drink or two, but struggles to find any peace.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, suggested drunken disorderly behavior.

Word Count: 1k

One drink. All she wanted was one quiet drink. It shouldn't be asking too much. But no, it wasn't going to be that kind of night. It shouldn't have come as much for a surprise though. It was the end of the week and people were in the mood to cut loose, she certainly was. After a difficult week she wanted nothing more than to be out of her tiny apartment for the evening.

But the drunken politicians and professionals trolling the wards for a cheap good time was something for which she had no tolerance. After politely declining another drink at another bar, only to have her answer persuaded, negotiated, or outright ignored, she was almost ready to call it a loss and go home. As she walked the decks, she passed dozens of holoboards advertising everything from restaurants and clubs to the ominously massive face of the Supreme Chancellor pushing his pro-war propaganda. She stopped and watched the short vid featuring the man that reminded her so much of Donal Udina it made her stomach tighten.

At the end of the vid, the board flashed to an ad for a club called 79's. The so called "Clone Bar" as it was casually called. Although her own experience with a clone left much to be desired, she had nothing but respect for the men of the Grand Army, regardless of their origins. Maybe that was what she needed, a drink among fellow soldiers. If there was one thing she knew how to handle, it was drunken soldiers. Her mind made up, she continued down the decks of 1313 the short distance to the bar

Outside were dozens of soldiers, carousing with one another. Cabs came and went, people of all species arrived and departed, often with a soldier or two in tow. She navigated between the groups and found the door, which promptly slid open. Inside the the music was deafening, the lights were flashing, and placed reeked of booze and desperation. Instead of Alliance blue fatigues, it was white plastoid, navy gray or pale medical blue. Instead of Asari dancers, they were Twi'lek, Togruta, and Pantoran. Instead of Turian bartenders they were Weequay

For all the ways the club was different and unfamiliar, it was also a piece of normal, the first she'd felt in nearly a year. It was filled with soldiers trying to drink away the pain and hardship they experienced everyday. They were looking for company, someone soft and warm, whether they paid for their service or their drinks, to give them something else to think about beyond death and fighting. As Joker once said pointed out, she could see the desperation in their arms as they danced haphazardly rubbing together in a group to the relative beat of the music. If she closed her eyes, she'd swear she was home.

She looked around the club for a vacant place to sit. Settling for the brightly Illuminated bar, she noticed a clone dessed in circles watching her. Aside from being dressed so differently, his hair was blonde. Something about his eyes was different than the others. He clearly wasn't drunk, and appeared to be slowly sipping his drink rather than shooting it down, so it was possible he had good taste. Most of all though, she immediately recognized the haunted look in his honey-brown eyes. His was really kind of soul she could relate to.

As she sat at the bar she considered approaching him later, if he was still around. She definitely had an itch that needed scratching beyond a good drink. Then again, with the frustration and borderline harassment she had already endured for a simple night out, she would probably end up more satisfied by the solution she kept in her nightstand. Ordering the best scotch they she received the closest approximation in the form of an aged Corellian whiskey. Resting her forearms on the bar and sipping the brown liquor, she savored the moment's peace, only to have it interrupted when a throat cleared behind her.

So much for a quiet drink...

[twistedsarchive]

Clone Effect - Masterlist

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShep

Series Rating: Explicit - Each chapter will contain warnings. NSFW chapters will be noted as such and marked with “*” in the series Masterlist.

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Series Summary: Captain Rex is sent on shore leave after Umbara. While at 79's, he meets a woman from a planet he's never heard of, who is facing ghosts of her own while trying to find her place in a Republic at war.

Table of Contents

Prologue: One Quiet Drink

1. Shore Leave

2. War Stories

3. Mission First

4. Contact

5. Ghosts of Choice

6. Buried Ledes

7. Training Rounds

8. Uncharted Spaces

9. Tactical Planning

10. Lost and Found

11. Departures

12. Exit Strategy

13. Breakthrough

14. No Stone Unturned

15. First Impressions

16. Calculated Risks

17. Gambler’s Fallacy

18. Diversionary Tactics

19. Common Bonds

20. Cover Stories

21. Improvised Plans

22. New Found Allies

23. Tipping Points

24. Easy Apologies

25. Prelude to a Mission

26. Clarity

27. Fallout

28. Reassignment

29. Hail Mary

Epilogue: Bury the Dead

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter Five: Pivot Point

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter Four: Repetitive Motions

Chapter Six: Into The Fire

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Shepard travels to the Citadel for the first time since retirement to find little has changed in her absence.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, inebriated behavior, Shepard tries to move on, yearning, a drunken near hook up.

Word Count: 4.1 k

Pomp and circumstance. That’s all the event was, pomp and circumstance. In Shepard’s mind the words were synonymous with inflated egos, bloated budgets, and a strategic diversion from bigger problems. It wasn’t to say the ceremony was insignificant. Indeed she saw great importance in honoring the fallen of the Reaper War with a memorial. Rather, it was the ostentatious affair preceding the unveiling that set her teeth on edge.

Hers was one of several speeches scheduled in the presidium commons, where a stage had been assembled, seating set out on both the upper and lower tiers. There were as many members of the press as there were C-Sec agents. Tickets had been unavailable for months, not that it mattered much with the number of press drones floating around. Representatives of every species were in attendance for the occasion.

Beyond the darkened backstage area, Councilor Sparatus droned on about the importance of duty and sacrifice, teamwork and preparedness. She restrained an audible scoff, knowing full well he was all too eager to repeatedly dismiss her claims of the Reapers at the beginning. Pomp and circumstance, indeed. More than anything, she hated being roped into participating when delivering a speech as a figurehead was the last thing she wanted to do as she grappled with the humiliation of her intoxicated desperation two nights prior.

After attempting to seduce Kix, she slept fitfully and woke with a splitting headache. Mercifully, he was gone when she finally emerged and the entirety of the afternoon was spent in rehearsal and ceremonial preparations. As a result, she had been able to avoid him until that morning, when he escorted her to the event. Neither spoke of that night or what nearly happened between them, for which she was grateful. She knew she owed him an apology, but it was something she couldn’t face until after her damned speech was over.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself about as much as I am,” a familiar voice mused quietly from behind her left shoulder.

Shepard turned and met a familiar pair of discerning eyes. “Ms. al-Jilani. I’m surprised you’re backstage rather than in the front row covering the ceremony,” she whispered.

She huffed a quiet scoff, “This is correspondent work. An overfunded, self-congratulatory PR stunt, and we both know it. I have to say though, I was surprised to hear you were participating.”

“Reluctantly at best,” Shepard clarified. “My presence was announced before I had given a formal answer. Didn’t leave me much room to decline.”

“Councilor Ahima is bold. I can appreciate her style.”

“Speaking of bold, you here to bull-rush me with loaded questions again?”

“No, actually,” amusement lingered in her tone, “though I do miss the good old days.”

“Then…what can I do for you?”

Al-Jilani stepped closer, to ensure they spoke in private, “I’ve spent the last five years wondering what could have happened to the great Commander Shepard to drive her into exile on Earth.”

“I’m retired.”

“Yes, I know the official story. You were adrift in stasis for a year after the Crucible fired before the Normandy team found you. Then you were recovering, both physically and mentally. It certainly makes a convenient press release, doesn’t it?”

Shepard shifted, disliking the scrutiny, “What’s your point?”

“Part of me wanted to ask if you’d give me an exclusive interview. Tell me what you were really up to during that time, but no doubt you’re under an NDA from the council, Alliance, or both so you couldn’t tell me anything even if you wanted to.”

“You’re fishing,” she concluded.

“A bit. Not my proudest task, but every reporter has to do it from time to time. Especially when the bait is good.”

She looked at the journalist sharply, “What bait, exactly?”

“I can’t help but wonder if you’re aware that someone has been screening your calls.”

“Meaning?”

“Captain, I’ve seen what you’re capable of. We both know the Reapers aren’t what broke you. After all we won, even if it came with a price. No, this was personal to you. And I can’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with this.”

As she spoke, al-Jilani handed her a data pad. Shepard opened the only file it contained, an audio file. When she looked up from the glowing screen, she saw the determined journalist walk away, departing through a parted curtain. Curious, she walked a distance from the entrance to the stage, in an effort to gain some privacy. Setting the volume lowl, she played the file and held it close to her ear.

“Captain Shepard, it has been some years since we’ve spoken, and much has changed since then. I hope this message finds you in good health."

The voice made her stomach clench, "Bail…"

"I was given this comm address by a…mutual friend. Although Imperial records state you are deceased, I know that isn't true. The Emperor's reach grows everyday, choking out hope of resistance. Ours was never your conflict, yet you thrust yourself into it anyway. I am contacting you asking that you consider returning. If not to help us, then to help them.”

Behind her, a round of applause and the announcement of her name detracted from her ability to hear the message. Plugging one ear, she brought the device to the other. Through the cacophony, she briefly heard Geth. Her stomach dropped, realizing she had indeed left them behind. A moment later, Senator Organa resumed speaking.

“This was recovered by an anonymous source. We have been unable to translate the message. Perhaps you can.”

“Captain Shepard,” an attendant ran over in a near panic, taking her arm. “You’re on!”

She brushed them off and tried to refocus beyond the attendant’s insistence.

“-meet me on Alderaan. We have much to discuss.”

“Captain! Please!” The young woman hissed.

She complied, if for no other reason than to keep the attendant from rupturing a major artery. As they walked through the backstage area, she verified the sourcing of the message. The original date of receipt in their sector was nearly a year ago. Guilt was replaced by anger, suspecting who had likely intercepted the message first.

Upon reaching the parted black curtains, she accepted the holopad from the attendant that contained her prepared speech, one Councilor Ahima’s staff had written. Per the requisite, she had rehearsed the short speech with Hag’s help, despite loathing every word of it. The words were hollow, empty, devoid of all real meaning. Words that were written for a politician to gain support or win votes. They weren’t the words of a soldier who had lost everything time again again. They weren’t her words.

As she crossed the threshold and came into view of the crowd, she was met with cheers and applause. Waving with a tight smile, she approached the lectern and placed the pair of holopads on the angled surface. Eventually the audience quieted. She took a moment to prepare herself, opening the holopad, which immediately synched to the prompter just in front of her.

“Good afternoon,” she began, trying to shake off the flare of nerves and mixed emotions, eyes flicking to the awaiting prompter. “It was just seven short years ago that all species of our galaxy made one stand against the enemy that sought to destroy us. We achieved what every cycle before us couldn’t. Although we will never know what made our cycle so different from the rest. I like to think it was our ability to look beyond ourselves, to look to each other, that secured our victory. As with every conflict, there were casualties. Losses. It is our duty as the survivors to remember the names of the fallen as we look to the prosperity of the future.”

Shepard fell silent, her eyes drifting to the holopad before her. Her heart pounded in her chest as her jaw worked to compel herself to continue the speech, but ultimately she couldn’t. She couldn’t extract her thoughts from the shattered galaxy she left behind, the unanswered plea for help, the troopers and civilians who were left to rot under Palpatine’s oppression. Rex. He was still out there. As her focus returned to the audience, she subtly switched the holopad off, shuffling it behind the message she had just received backstage.

“Forgive me. Reminders of what we’ve lost can sometimes appear from nothing. We all felt loss during the Reaper War. Friends. Family. Partners. Brothers,” at the last word, her eyes flicked back to Liara, whose brows furrowed at the deliberate choice of words. “What matters is that, despite the loss, despite the pain and hopelessness we all felt during those darkest days, we fought on. We refused to surrender our free will to an oppressor who sought to remove us from existence. Nothing can erase the grief of what we lost, but as we continue forward, as we rebuild, it is our duty to carry on the legacy of those that fell, those that were left behind so their names are never forgotten.

“Our unity was a tool the Reapers weren’t expecting. Our unity was the catalyst to our victory. Our unity is what we gathered today to celebrate. It is my honor and privilege to unveil the aptly named Unity Monument that will stand as a testament to our resolve and determination to defeat the Reapers, once and for all.”

As she finished speaking, she turned toward the massive, curtained cylinder that stood next to the Krogan Monument in the waterway. The silver drape fell away in a rippling cascade to reveal a massive globe, held aloft by the hands of all sentient species of the galaxy. Gleaning and polished, the towering monolith reflected the artificial light of the Citadel as the crowd erupted into cheers and a standing ovation.

Shepard collected her items and stepped back from the lectern, only to be met by Councilor Ahima for a handshake and photo-op with the throngs of waiting journalists.

“You went off script,” she stated through a fake smile. “We’ll talk about that later.”

She likewise returned a practice grin, shaking the politician’s hand for an uncomfortably long time, “Perhaps after we talk about you withholding my private messages.”

Ahima’s hand gripped hers tightly for a moment before releasing it, “That particular decision wasn’t mine. Come to my office tomorrow.”

“I think I’ve heard enough of what you have to say,” although her face remained polite, there was no mistaking the bite of her tone.

“Who do you think gave Ms. al-Jilani clearance to find you backstage? I’m not your opponent, Captain.”

“Shepard,” Liara spoke softly as she approached.

Ahima assessed the two and drew a conclusion, “I thank you for your time and participation today. No doubt being paraded around isn’t your idea of a good time. Your speech was heartfelt and honest, something we can all appreciate. You are no longer obligated to stay, should you have other matters that require your attention. If you are available, I’d like to speak again before you return home.”

With a nod she departed, leaving the two friends in silence. Shepard looked at her friend and confidant in a new light, one glowing with a sense of betrayal. A thousand words bounced behind her teeth, but she wouldn’t utter a single one in such a public place. Twitching her head toward the exit, the pair walked side by side to a sky car stand. After a tensely quiet ride to the Silversun Strip, the lift ride and walk to her penthouse were equally as uncomfortable. The doors parted as they approached and likewise closed after they entered.

She stopped abruptly and turned to Liara, her voice quiet but forceful, “How many?”

“Shepard-”

“How many messages have you intercepted, Liara?” Although her volume rose, her anger was restrained, at least for the moment.

The Asari exhaled sharply, mouth forming a line, stubborn to the last.

“Answer me!” She barked, reverting to her soldier’s voice.

Liara flinched at the uncharacteristic outburst, “This was the only one.”

“But you've been spying on me the whole time," it wasn't a question.

“I did what I had to do, Shepard,” she defended, voice also rising.

“I am not your responsibility!”

“Oh, I'm not? Who was named executor of your estate while you were living out your life on Coruscant? Who was the one that kept your affairs in order while you ran off to throw your life at another war! Do you have any idea how many nights I spent scrubbing comm channels and dark space transmissions looking for you, praying that you were still alive? I won’t apologize for withholding information that kept you where you belong.”

“That isn't for you to decide!" Her eyes burned

Nodding and blinking away the sting in her eyes, she cleared her throat, “I deserved to find out from you, not from Khalisa al-Jilani ninety seconds before I’m supposed to go onstage.”

“For that I am sorry, Shepard. But I won't apologize for doing it,” as she finished, the doors opened and Kix arrived with James and Garrus. "We both know the second you received that message, it was going to send running back there because you can't let him go!"

"He's still alive!"

“I told her to withhold the messages,” Kix confessed without any sign of regret.

She turned to him in shock, the revelation cutting deeper than she expected, "You what?”

"Liara contacted me when Senator Organa's message was intercepted, asking if I thought it was legitimate and what we should do-"

“You’re brothers are back there!”

“I know that!” He barked with surprising force only to quiet again, “It wasn’t an easy decision. Forsaking them weighs on me everyday but what those chips did to their brains long term…what they did while under its influence. What you told me was bad enough. What happened since then…it’s better this way.”

Her eyes narrowed as she mentally dissected his words, “How would you know what the chips did long term?”

He looked at her mutely for a moment before his eyes flicked over her shoulder. Immediately Shepard understood, her gaze training back to Liara expectantly. Although she didn’t receive an initial explanation, the stiffness in her spine and squareness of her shoulders revealed, whatever came next would be solely at the discretion of the Shadow Broker.

“Care to elaborate or should I just draw my own conclusions.”

The shrewd Asari’s jaw worked as she deliberated, “After you returned to Terra to tend your wounds, Kix and I spoke at length about what he had discovered. Based on your account on Kamino, the countermeasure worked at least in part, so the decision was made to try to liberate other clone troopers from the influence of the inhibitor chip in the hopes of their rehabilitation.”

“And?”

“We recovered a trooper from the 327th,” Kix explained with a weary sigh. “His name was Slugger. He was deployed with Commander Bly and General Secura on Felucia. He remembered receiving the order to execute their general but they didn’t really realize what they had done until it was over. Even then, the gravity didn’t really sink in until we pulled the chip out.”

“What happened to him?”

His shoulders dropped further as he leaned against the back of the couch, his body suddenly feeling heavy and old, “He had a complete mental breakdown. Not just because of Order 66, but everything that followed. They were deployed to put down civilian resistance, detain and question alleged insurrectionists, and oppress the people we fought to liberate. They became the face of the Empire. By removing the chip his awareness of it all came rushing in. The burden of it all was too much and he…took his leave. As much as I’d like to believe my brothers can be saved, I’m just not sure I have the stomach for it if things go wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

“Shepard, my agents have been working to find the Geth, but the Empire has them somewhere beyond our reach. I understand that you want to get them back, but it’s a lost cause.”

“People need help, people are suffering.”

“There will always be people suffering, Lola,” James gently reminded, trying to add pragmatism to the conversation. “You can’t fight everyone’s war.”

“Councilor Ahima reinstated my Spectre status two days ago. Senator Organa knows I can help, he wouldn’t be asking otherwise. I have to at least hear him out.”

“You sure this isn’t running away again?” Vega asked.

“If there had been a chance April was still alive, I would have helped you find her.”

His brows pinched at the mention of the name. He wanted to call a foul, argue that she was out of bounds, but deep down he knew she was telling the truth. She would have found the time to help him investigate if April had survived the Collectors and been able to make contact, to find closure if nothing else. It was a persuasive point he couldn’t refute. All he could do was concede with a nod.

Her eyes softened in appreciation before turning to Kix, “Rex is still out there. I know you don’t want to believe it, but I feel it in my gut. If there was anyone who could have helped rid him of that chip before it was too late, it was Ahsoka. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m with you, Shepard,” Garrus finally spoke up, looking at Liara and James. “We’ve trusted you with crazier, more suicidal missions. Just because this isn’t our war right now doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way for long. It’s only been five years since the Empire rose. Palpatine planned this for decades. He knows we’re out here and if we have something he wants badly enough, he’ll find us again.”

“I suppose I should have seen this coming,” Liara sighed. "Be careful, Shepard…please.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I should go. No doubt you’ll be needing resources soon. I'll get things organized.”

“Thank you, Liara.”

With a resigned nod, she departed. Thick silence lingered between the four that remained. They looked at one another, unsure of what to say. Her first trip back to the Citadel certainly wasn’t going as she had planned. Shepard had hoped for a relatively easy visit where she could reconnect with her friends and decide what would come next. Although she was eager to start planning, she also felt great trepidation at what lay ahead, and therefore wasn’t in a rush to go to her office.

“Who wants a drink?” She asked, walking to the bar.

As expected, her three closest friends followed. Stepping behind the bar and rolling her sleeves, she reached for the best tequila and Turian brandy she had on hand as well as the appropriate bar ware for the respective beverages. James opened the top buttons of his Alliance dress uniform while Kix shrugged out of his suit coat and rolled the cuffs of his shirt. Garrus settled onto a stool and thanked her for the glass as she slid it across the polished bar top.

“What are you having, Kix?” She asked.

“Just tonic with lime for me. I’m on call.”

“Doctor Michele keeping you busy at the clinic?” Garrus asked with a wink.

He smiled faintly, “She’s trying to hire more office staff but it’s been hard finding someone reliable to run the front desk. She won’t admit when she needs help, but I try to stay available.”

“I remember her,” James chimed in, “She’s cute. You two…strictly professional?”

Kix glanced at Shepard, who looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, “Yes, strictly professional.”

“That’s a shame,” she added, setting his drink by his hand and going about preparing her own. “She might be just the thing you need to move forward.”

He gave her a tight smile, “Well, forward isn’t always linear, is it?”

A tired chuckle popped in her chest as she sealed a shaker, “Sure fucking isn’t.” After a handful of vigorous shakes, she strained the martini she prepared into a glass and dropped in several olives. “A toast to surviving the shit we’ve been through to fight another day.”

The trio agreed and pulled from their glasses before falling into conversation. James regaled them with his missions as an N7 while Garrus caught them up on the latest news for Palaven, Rannoch, and Tuchonka. Although the faces might have changed, the politics were still the same. The Turians were worried about the Krogan overpopulating. Only after Admiral Xen had been indicted for selling Geth to the Separatists did the Quarians agree to reactivate the remaining Geth platforms, though differing opinions were causing discourse on Rannoch. What remained of the Batarian hegemony was still pushing against the borders of human colonies trying to re-establish themselves.

So much was different, so much was the same. After several hours and enough rounds to load an Elcor, Vega and Garrus departed, claiming they were going to the casino to blow some credits. Wishing them luck, the pair swayed their way out the door and Shepard knew they were more likely going to find something to eat before passing out for a few hours. Smiling to herself, she cleared their glasses as her mind buzzed in a most delightful way before she registered that she and Kix were alone once more.

“I owe you an apology.”

“No you don’t,” he kindly dismissed.

“I do,” she stated. “I shouldn’t have made a pass at you. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking with my head. I put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m sorry.”

Kix shook his head and checked the time before sliding his glass across the bar, “Gin and lime this time. Clinic’s closed for the day.”

Emptying the glass of the half melted ice and squeezed out a wedge of lime, she obliged his request before making herself another martini and taking a seat next to him, “Thank you for the grace.”

“I’m sorry you’re still hurting,” He sighed with the weight of his accelerated age. “I know why you’ve stayed away. I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine how hard this is.”

She nodded and smiled tightly into the rim of her glass, “Thank you for understanding. I hated leaving you here on your own but…I didn’t have anything left.”

Ice sloshed in his emptied glass as he set it aside, “What happened anyway, between you and Rex? Everything was fine, it was great for you two and then it wasn’t. What went wrong?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“When it came to you, Rex never gave anything away. That’s how I know you mattered to him, even after you requested Kamino.”

Her brows shot up to her hairline, “Requested? I-I requested Kamino?”

“Yeah, after Fives…General Skywalked said you requested a transfer…”

An exhausted chuckle stretched from her throat as she pulled a hand down her face, “I didn’t request anything. I was ordered to Kamino with barely enough time to grab my gear. Skywalker-” she bit her tongue, not wanting to speak ill of his former commanding officer.

“Say it,” he encouraged. “You’ve already told me the worst of what happened in the end.”

Sighing sharply, she drained her glass and bit at the trio of olives that remained, “I tapped your comm channel to try to reach Fives first. I knew about the chips, I knew Palpatine was up to something, and that Fives was in danger. I tried to reach him first and failed. I was in the warehouse and Skywalker knew it. We made a deal, I would continue to keep the secret of his marriage to Senator Amidala quiet and he wouldn’t officially report my presence that night, on the condition that I told Rex I tried to interfere. He…he wasn’t ready to hear what I had to say.”

Kix blinked several times, “They were married?”

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “And Padme was pregnant, not that anyone told me directly, but I figured it out. I heard through news reports that she and the baby died. Kenobi was going to face him…I don’t know how it ended.”

Exhaling a deep breath he lifted his empty glass, “Any chance I could get another?”

“This bar’s always open,” she answered lightly, rising to mix another. “Rex and I didn’t get to speak again after I was sent to Kamino. I messaged him everyday but never got a reply. I assumed that was Palpatine’s doing.”

“He missed you. I don’t know if it helps or hurts, but he regretted whatever happened. I could see it.”

“We both said things we shouldn’t have,” she admitted, sliding the glass across the bar. “I want to go back, not just because of Rex. He's part of it, a lot of it, if I’m honest but not all of it. I’ve…I’ve never been one to bow to men like Palpatine, like Vader. I’d rather fight and die at the hands of people like them than slink away and survive. Liara, Garrus...they don’t particularly like that part of my personality.”

“When will you go?”

“As soon as I can, if the option is still on the table. I anticipate the Council will want me to gather information first before making a formal assignment decision.”

“And if they want you to return and stay?”

She shrugged as she busied herself to clean up the bar area, “I don’t have the reputation of cooperating with their expectations. A fact that isn’t lost on them, I’m sure. If it becomes an official mission, I’ll need a team. Would you consider joining me?”

Inhaling sharply, Kix stiffened at the question, “You’re asking a lot.”

“I know,” she leveled, “That’s my nature, as you recall. I expect a lot of the people who follow me, but never less than what I’ll give myself. You’ll be valuable. No one here has your experience in that part of the galaxy, experience we’ll need to fight the Empire.”

His shoulder fell with his gaze, “I don’t know if I can do that. Seeing my brothers again, knowing I can’t help them…”

“I understand,” her voice brimmed with empathy. “We all have our limits, Kix. I appreciate your honesty.”

“I’ll think about it,” he conceded, conflict brewing in his gut.

She nodded, “I’ll be back for my gear and no doubt the pace of bureaucracy will keep me around for a little while, so take your time."

A long silence hung between them. Ghosts seeping from the seams in the woodwork tended to steal the air from the room. Selfishly, she hadn’t yet spent the time talking to him at length about recovery from the war and his transition to civilian life on the Citadel. If it was too painful for her to ask, she knew it was likely just as difficult for him to answer. Deep down, Shepard wondered if she had gone too far.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. Clinic opens early tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Kix. Thanks for everything.”

With a nod, he crossed the living room and ascended the stairs. After cleaning up the bar and taking the glasses to the kitchen, she loaded the dishwasher and rummaged through the fridge for a quick meal. Bowl of reheated take-out in hand, she walked to the office and sat at the terminal. Checking her messages, the most recent was from Jack, sent shortly after Vega and Garrus left her apartment. As always, it was short and to the point:

Shepard. Heard you were planning to kick some Imperial ass. Count me in.

Smiling, she was glad that at least one of her friends was on board with her half-baked plan. As she settled into her meal, she listened to Bail’s message again. Through the practiced and controlled tone of his voice, she could hear the strain and tension. She couldn’t imagine the stress he was under in the prior five years. He sounded tired.

Opening a secure channel, she keyed in the relay sequence for the Omni-Tool she had given Ahsoka years prior. To her surprise, the sequence was still active. She recorded a brief, cryptic message, stating that she would be near Alderaan soon, if the invitation was still open. After adding additional encryption, she sent the message, knowing it may take some time to receive a reply.

Sitting back in the chair, taking a deep breath, the pace of events caught up with her and she felt very tired. Tidying her office, she deposited the dishes in the dishwasher and ascended the stairs. A shower before bed was most definitely in order. It had been a day she wanted to wash away. As the jets pounded against her tense shoulders and back for a long time, she vaguely heard her terminal chirp from the other room but ignored it. It was likely Liara trying to talk her out of her decision, or Hag, having been contacted by Vega or Garrus.

The road to Hell was paved with good intentions, as her uncle would say.

Cutting the tap, she stepped out of the stall and dried off before digging her shorts and a tank top from her bag. Toweling off her long hair, she checked her messages. Much to her surprise, it wasn’t a message from Liara or Hag. Instead, it was only a few words that gave her the confirmation that she was finally moving in the right direction.

We’ll see you soon.

-Bail.

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter Four: Repetitive Motions

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter Three: Holding Pattern

Chapter Five: Pivot Point

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: After returning home, Shepard is trying her hand at civilian life, but five years in, she was still struggling to move forward.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.6k

The Citadel hadn’t felt so foreign since the first time the Normandy SR1 docked after their shakedown run of the prototype ship stumbled into the hornet’s nest that was The Reapers. Though unlike the first time, with priority docking and immediate clearance, Shepard stood in the long customs line with James at her side. Although the flight hadn’t been long, she was tired. Sleep had eluded her the prior night, not that it was anything new, especially before an important event, like the damned speech she had been volun-told to deliver at the behest of the councilor that represented humanity, not that she had really bothered to remember the shrewd woman’s name. They all sounded like Donel Udina in her mind.

“You could always call Bailey,” James whispered. “He’d do us a favor and fast-track us. Just sayin’.”

“That eager to get to the poker table, Jimmy?” She chided in response.

He chuckled and shifted her pack, which was slung across his shoulder, “I might be looking forward to making some pockets lighter.”

Just as her eyes flicked to his incredulous grin, the line moved forward. They were at least getting closer.

“I’m retired, James. No more favors or special treatment. I’m Just another civilian now.”

“You can say that as many times as you want, Lola,” he chuckled. “You have better luck convincing yourself than anyone else.”

As though on cue, a well dressed man glided up to them, “Captain Shepard, Commander Vega, please follow me.”

“What is this about?” She reflexively asked without moving.

“Councilor Ahima was notified of your arrival. She instructed me to collect you and provide you clearance.”

Shepard swore under her breath as James snickered. Of course the newly selected human counselor was going to meddle. Karking politics. Begrudgingly, she followed as requested, if for no other reason than to get it over with. The trio strolled through the scanner unbidden, as she had during the war, and the artificial voice announced, “Spectre status recognized.”

“I’m retired from the Spectre’s,” she stated as the attendant selected their destination in the lift.

“Technically, you were inactive, Captain,” he clarified with a raised index finger. “In light of recent events, the Council has made the unanimous decision to reinstate your position as a Spectre.”

A sigh of contempt filtered through her nose, “Recent events? What recent events?”

“I do not have the clearance to have been briefed on the specifics.”

“And what’s the catch for enjoying Spectre privileges again?”

“I am not aware of any contingencies, Captain. Counselor Ahima has requested you present yourself to her chamber upon your arrival. I would suggest you discuss it with her directly.”

“What’s a trip to the Citadel without a long winded meeting with a politician?” James chided. “Guess I’ll catch up with you later, Lola. I’ll drop your bag at your apartment.”

With a roll of her eyes she agreed. When the lift arrived at the Citadel Tower, she followed the attendant to the council offices. Outside the closed door, he nodded and gestured for her to enter before disappearing into another room. Sighing loudly, she activated the door and straightened her spine as she entered.

The office was still the same stark white with frosted plexi and brushed metal accents. Beyond the walls was the balcony that overlooked the Presidium Commons, skycars flying overhead as fountains decorated waterways below. Well kept landscaping offered a mentally soothing flush of broad green leaves with delicate conical pink flowers. She hadn’t kept up to date on the current region of Earth the foliage reflected, but on appearance she would guess southeast Asia, perhaps chosen as a tribute to the home country of their new counselor.

“Captain Shepard,” a graceful woman greeted, rising from the desk. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Shepard had been vaguely away of the appointment from watching the news. Diya Ahima, born and raised in Kolkata then educated at Oxford. Her interest in politics started early and she quickly ascended the ranks of government, being elected as one of Terra’s prime ministers in her late 30s after fighting in a militia during the Reaper War. As the galactic community worked to rebuild, the selection of a new counselor for humanity had been hurried and resulted in the appointment of a man who fell to scandal just the prior year. Indeed, the woman who stood before her had been submitted to great scrutiny, which she welcomed and ultimately overcame to earn the position she held.

“I can’t say there was much room to decline your invitation,” she playfully replied. “But I’d rather get business squared away first. So, what can I do for you?”

Ahima gestured for her to sit, only taking her own seat after her guest was comfortably placed in the chair opposite hers, “As you know, I’ve not been in this position long, only a handful of months, but I certainly know the Legend of Shepard well. It seemed prudent that we speak face to face.”

“Why have you reactivated my Spectre status? I requested retirement.”

“Not one to mince words. Admiral Anderson mentioned that about you. Said it was one of your best qualities.”

The mention of her mentor’s name struck her chest like a bullet, “How did you know Anderson?”

“I was in London during the war, my chain of command reported to him. When we linked up, he would visit the units at night, sometimes telling stories to keep morale up. You were a frequent subject,” a small smile pulled at her eyes. “But, your Spectre status. Your request for retirement was denied. You didn’t receive adequate council approval, however the council agreed that, under the circumstances, stepping away was the best choice. As such you were inactivated until such a time where you were once again fit for duty.”

“I’m fit for duty, I just don’t want it,” she tartly replied.

“An understandable sentiment, but perhaps a short sighted one,” she leaned back in the chair, steepling her fingers for a long pause. “Do you really enjoy being a bartender?”

“The fulfillment I get from my job isn’t your business,” as the conversation was progressing, Shepard knew the woman across the desk was intelligent and knew exactly which strings to pluck.

Seeing the sudden guarding of the soldier, Ahima opened the datapad and glanced at the loaded file, “I have read your final debriefing of your contracted service to the Grand Army several times. It is…unfortunate that you were unable to prevent the coup.”

“I’m only one person, Counselor. And this plot was set in motion long before my arrival. I showed up at the end of the third act, there was no stopping it by then.”

"So it seems, though your efforts were not entirely in vain. Your report states you successfully changed our system's location in the Galactic Senate archive. Proximity sensors that were placed throughout the reach of dark space haven’t detected any ships, probes, or surveillance equipment. At this junction, I must say: job well done.”

“If we’re safely hidden, why am I being reactivated?”

"Let's call your reactivation…a proactive decision. You never know what may come up, evolve…perhaps even inspire you to change your mind. Rest assured, your name is not surfacing on the mission roster so after the dedication ceremony, feel free to enjoy your time on the Citadel and return to bartending, since it gives you such a feeling of satisfaction.”

Shepard opened her mouth to rebut, but was cut off before speaking a word.

“That will be all, Captain. Enjoy your day.”

Stiffly, she rose and left, fuming below the surface. Although Counselor Ahima had qualities she could respect, by and large Shepard disliked the politician on principle. She resented the fact that the council still had strings attached to her limbs as much as she resented being left in the dark. Something was happening, she could feel it in her gut. Spectre status wasn’t just given out on a whim. The council knew something she didn’t, something she should know. Being toyed with set her teeth on edge.

Upon arriving at her apartment, she released a tired sigh, optimistic that some rest would settle her nerves. To her surprise, the space was exactly as she had left it, despite telling Kix to make himself at home when they arrived years earlier. Part of her felt guilty for practically abandoning him in the new, unknown place, but as the grief mounted at her loss of not only Rex, but seeing the Republic crumble and burn, remaining close to the brother of her lost love was more than she could handle at the time. Fortunately, Liara agreed to help him establish himself on the Citadel, quickly putting his abilities as a medic to good use by introducing him to Dr. Chloe Michele. As Shepard understood, via correspondence from her Asari friend, Kix was thriving in his new life as a pediatrician.

Ascending the stairs, she found her bag where James left it in the master suite. After a shower and a change of clothes, she wandered through the upper level until, inevitably, she found Kix’s room. Despite her insistence at taking the larger bedroom, he opted for the guest room. She didn’t pry, having respect for his privacy, but she couldn't help but enter the room with tentative steps.

Overall the room was still Spartan, leaving a small footprint of his presence. As expected, the bed was neatly made, as hers always was, a soldier’s habit. A holopad sat on the bedside table, as did a canteen and clock. The bedspread was different, blue and gray rather than black. Unable to resist a small degree of snooping, she glanced into the walk-in closet and froze. At the back of the closet was his kit on a mannequin.

The sight of the plastoid, scuffed white adorned with blue, accented with a red medic's cross on the shoulder bell, made her breath seize in her chest. All at once, she was overwhelmed by the memories that clawed at the fringes of her mind. It was too much. She wasn’t ready to see him again, to see his face, his eyes. She hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time and left the apartment without looking back.

Standing at the sky car station, she deliberated her options. The casino and simulator were close by, but what she needed was an escape. Only one place came to mind. Setting the destination and a short ride later, she strolled into Purgatory and immediately savored the loud music that filled her ears to the brim. Although the crowds were thinner than she had seen during her last visit to the bar, it was enough that she immediately felt her visibility wane.

Ascending the stairs to the upper bar, just off the dance floor, she waved the bartender down and requested a glass of scotch. Around her, people danced to the pulsing music. Lights flashed through the haze of the dark atmosphere. Silhouettes of Asari on gyrating on floating platforms rose and dropped on the periphery. If she closed her eyes, it almost felt like she was on Coruscant again, stepping into 79’s for the first time and meeting the gaze of-

“SHEPARD!” A woman yelled, breaking her fond revere.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked over her shoulder to see Jack approaching. A relieved smile broke across her face as she stood to embrace her friend.

“I didn’t know you were here already,” Shepard waved to the bartender.

“I arrived yesterday,” she explained, taking a seat on the unoccupied stool to her right. “Grissom is on break for a month. The Citadel is the transfer point to send the kids home. When I heard you were going to be giving a speech, I decided I should stick around.”

"Don't remind me," she dismissed with a roll of her eyes and a pull from her glass.

An intentional pause was followed by, "How are you holding up, Shepard?"

"I'm fine, keeping busy with the bar,"

If the question had come from anyone else, even if it carried the same subtle, but significant weight to the words, she would have been able to lie convincingly, but not to Jack. She was one of the few, perhaps the only other person, who truly understood what she was going through. As the bartender arrived and departed with her drink, Shepard kept her eyes on her glass, deliberately ignoring her friend’s penetrative gaze. Deep down, she knew a confession was expected, an admission that she wasn’t fine. They both knew she wasn’t, but at the same time, she wasn’t ready to deal with it. True to Jack’s brash nature, she changed the subject abruptly.

“When was the last time you got fucked, Shepard?”

The question made her head nearly swivel completely on her neck as her jaw fell open, “Excuse me?”

“You clearly heard me, and your face alone tells me it’s been too long,” slugging back her glass, she grabbed Shepard’s wrist. “Come one, we’re getting you laid.”

Despite the resistance in her stammering words that failed to keep up, her body complied, willingly being led from the sanctuary of the bar and deep into the dance floor.

“Now, I know you still can’t dance for shit, but just wiggle your tits until a guy shows interest.”

“Jack!” She stood still in the growing crowd of moving bodies, unable to bring herself to join in.

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

“I don’t want to just-”

“I know,” Jack pointedly replied, standing still as well. “I know what you want, but he’s gone, Shepard. What you’re doing? It isn’t healthy. Trust me, get a few dicks under your belt and you’ll feel better.”

Before she could protest further, Jack vanished back to the bar to collect another round. Maybe she was right and she just needed a few one night stands to clear her head. At least if she did it while she was on the Citadel, there was a slim chance she’d meet them again. A moment later, her friend returned and thrust a glass into her hand. Conceding her point, at least that it was worth trying, she tossed it down her throat and let herself fall into the rhythm of the music. What was the worst that could happen?

——————————————

Inebriation hummed in her veins, a necessity if she was going to endure his company long enough to convince herself to find a corner dark enough to satiate her need. She had no interest in actually taking him home and seeing his apartment was the last thing she wanted. In the unknown number of hours they had been acquainted, the only time he had actually stopped talking was when they were on the dance floor, namely because he was trying to suck her soul out through her neck in the form of wet, sloppy kisses as he haplessly ground his pelvis into hers. It wasn’t as much dancing as dry humping her like a throw pillow.

To his credit, he had tried to keep up with her, matching her drink for drink which, as she had warned him, was a foolhardy task. Nonetheless, Dave? Dan…Mark! Nonetheless, Mark desperately tried to hold his own in a vain attempt to demonstrate his prowess. Unfortunately, as he slurred and mumbled on about what he does for a living, as he tried to maintain himself, Shepard slipped further and further away from the moment, fully retreating to the memories she longed to relive.

It has been his eyes that impacted her most when she first saw him. Dancing behind the warmth of his amber gaze, which penetrated hers for a long breath, she recognized his haunted soul. It was the same kind of soul she saw in the mirror throughout the fight against the Collectors and the Reaper war. Tired eyes, still full of fight and determination. Lonely but comfortable in solitude, yearning for a connection but stoic in their strength. One drink had changed everything….

“So, what were you doing during the war?” Da-Mark asked loudly, pulling her back to the present.

“Excuse me?” The question caught her off guard, in part because she wasn’t paying attention, but also because it was seldom that she wasn’t recognized.

“During the war, where were you? I swear I’ve seen your face before,” he eyes drifted off for a moment, before it struck him. “OH!!! Did you know you kind of look like that VI of Commander Shepard? I mean, she's way hotter but you could pass with a little makeup."

“I think it’s time to go,” she declared, having had enough of the night.

“Oh,” his brows and tone inflected with misguided anticipation. “I’ll take care of our tab.”

“I’ve taken care of it,” she flatly stated, opening her omni-tool and charging the night to her Spectre account.

As she rose from the seat, he staggered out of his, knocking over the empty glasses on the table. Taking him under an arm, the sudden movement amplified the intensity of his drunken sway and he practically dropped his weight onto her as they left the bar. Once at the sky car stand, he collected himself enough to try to kiss her, but she indifferently held him away with a forearm to the chest, gripping the collar of his jacket. As the cab landed and the door opened, reality began to sink in as she all but shoveled him into the back seat before setting the auto-pilot for whatever random destination she could quickly choose. His protests were muffled but sealing doors and she waved dryly as the car took off for destinations unknown.

Shepard sighed heavily, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Turning back to the entrance of Purgatory, the idea of returning to the bar made her lip curl reflexively in distaste, but where else did she have to go? Wandering the wards or casino sounded no better. She briefly contemplated going to Armax for a few rounds with Jack, but even then the memories of leaving Kamino began to creep in, so she locked the idea away. Indecision was foreign to her, she didn’t like it.

Checking the time, she decided it was likely that Kix had been home for several hours and was hopefully asleep, or at least close to it. Having had enough of people for one day, she called another sky car to take her home. Upon entering her apartment for the second time that day, she could feel his energy in the space through the subtle signs of his return. Dishes sat in the drying rack by the sink as faint traces of the cooked meal he consumed lingered in the air. The glow of a lamp illuminated the normally dark upstairs area, opposite the master bedroom.

“Shepard?” His voice called at the sound of the closing door.

“It’s me,” she replied quickly, desperate to keep her tone casual despite the stab in her chest at the familiar sound of her name. “I’m heading to bed.”

A pause hung in the air, before he answered, “Sleep well.”

Inhaling deeply but silently, she turned to the bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch and a glass before ascending the stairs. Crossing the doorless threshold to her sanctuary, she filled the vessel with a heavy hand, pulling long and slow from the rim. As she set the bottle and glass aside on the media center opposite her bed, she began pulling at her clothes, discarding her jacket, shirt, and unbuttoning her pants. Retrieving her drink again, she sat on the plush mattress and used the toe of one boot to push the other free from the other. A sigh escaped her tired body as she flexed her toes, her feet breathing at long last.

All at once, she realized how much she wanted to shower away the previous hours spent in the flashing lights thundering music. Discarding the remainder of her clothes in a heap, she emptied her glass and moved to the bathroom to open the tap. Although the obscenely oversized, jetted bathtub was tempting, she just wasn’t in the mood to spend any more time with her thoughts than necessary. Instead, she stepped into the glass and stone-tile enclosure and scrubbed away as much of the day as she could.

Feeling clean, she cut the flow and sighed into the plush towel as she dried her face. After drying her body and toweling out her hair, she discarded the item on the floor, deciding she’d deal with it tomorrow. Although her bag sat at the foot of the bed, she unconsciously turned to the low dresser in search of something that resembled pajamas. Upon opening the first drawer, her heart jumped into her throat.

White Jaig eyes against royal blue satin.

It had been a foolish purchase, one done on impulse as she recuperated from the surgery that replaced her compromised implants after reluctantly returning home. Those months apart were necessary but torturous, soothed by the promise that one day Rex would come with her, see her home and meet her family, maybe even want to stay and settle down. So much hope was bound into that nightgown and its commissioned embroidery, yet she never got to wear it for him. The hope had been false, undermined from the beginning, yet the reminder persisted.

Picking it up by the strand-thin straps, she held it up, admiring how perfectly the shade matched 501st blue, how accurately the seamstress had rendered what was essentially Rex’s sigil into the upper left corner, just below the rose-pattern lace. A pity that it should remain wasted in a drawer, she reasoned as she slipped the garment on. It clung to every curve of her body, the hem falling just below the swell of her buttocks. In part, she was pleased that it still fit so well after five years of civilian life. But, upon catching her reflection in the holoscreen, cold heartache returned, knowing how much Rex would have loved it.

Turning away and reaching to remove the nightgown, an idea tickled at the back of her mind. Deep down, she knew it was exclusively a bad idea, but that part of her voice was stifled beneath the mountain of loneliness she carried around everyday. Pressing her lips together, she walked into the upper sitting area and stopped. Uncertainty eroded her confidence as she began debating with herself. The war between what she wanted and what was rational ended at a stalemate so she pressed forward.

Although it was late, she knew he was awake by the soft glow of the bedside lamp shining through the entry. Her bloodstream continued to hum with scotch and poor judgment as she approached. Near the threshold, she nearly lost her nerve but shook away the thoughts of doubt and pressed on. Rapping her knuckles quickly on the fake wood door three times as she leaned into the doorway.

“Shepard…” Kix breathed with an inflection of surprise.

Her eyes raked over him, she couldn’t help it. He sat in his bed, shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose fitting, Alliance issue sleep pants. A data pad glowed in his lap, illuminating the years of experience etched into his face as his warm, familiar eyes studied her. His cheeks and chin were darkened by the persistent growth of facial hair at the late hour of the night as the lines around his eyes deepened. Tiredness aside, Kix was toned and fit as ever, having gained a healthy amount of fat and muscle in the years since returning with her. Although his wasn’t the face she longed for, she was drunk enough to see only what she wanted.

“Am I interrupting?” She asked, voice dripping with silky desire.

“No, I was just reading," his brows pulled in the middle, one arching above the other in curiosity at her unusual intrusion. "Is everything okay?”

Biting her lower lip, she padded into the room and rounded to the far side of the bed, nearest to where he lay, knowing the thin strapped satin nightgown she wore clung to her frame like a liquid fantasy that skimmed against her thighs. “I can’t sleep and saw you were awake,” she hoped the half lie would go without question under the circumstances.

She stood at his bedside, intimately close as an electric silence fell between them. A shiver tingled at her exposed shoulders, causing the skin of her arms and chest to contract. Kix’s eyes flicked down to her breasts as her nipples hardened against the delicate fabric, inescapably defining their shape and texture. He inhaled sharply and shifted his legs, pushing the data pad aside. Dragging his gaze back to her face, he finally saw how glassy and bloodshot her piercing green eyes were.

“Shepard-”

“Call me Jean…please,” she breathed, moving so close enough to be within his grasp, her body poised to scale the bed.

Kix turned his face up to hers, hands instinctively drifting to the gorgeous woman who stood half naked before him. Her wavy red hair tumbled over her shoulder as she leaned closer. He tossed the data pad to the other side of the bed, sliding a hand up her firm thigh, caught in her intoxicating pull. She rested a hand on his shoulder, and the searing touch of her skin on his was all they needed to ignite the tinder between them.

In an instant, he pulled her into his lap, her thighs straddling his hips, their mouths connected before anything else. Her kiss was desperate and needy, tongue wasting no time in finding his, swirling and pushing into his mouth as they exchanged a single breath. He gripped the globes of her taut ass, experienced hands sliding deep into the valley between them, groaning as he realized she wasn’t wearing panties and was already swollen and wet. She moaned at his touch, breaking their kiss to thrust her barely contained breasts into his face. Kix eagerly mouthed her clothed nipples before pulling the straps from her shoulders, freeing the sensitive buds to his affection, kneading and pulling until she moaned. Canting her hips, she found the hardness of his stiff cock, humming as her hands threaded into his thick curls at the delightful friction she felt against her aching clit, letting a name fall from her lips in a velvety sigh.

“Rex….”

Kix froze beneath her, body rigid and hands stilling. Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she had gotten carried away in the familiar comfort of his touch, smell, and feel. She forced her eyes open to meet his concerned gaze as he retreated from her body, though not before sliding the strand-thin straps of her nightgown up her shoulders and recovering her breasts. His hands drifted down her bare arms and removed hers from the nape of his neck, his thumb flicking across the blue durasteel band she still faithfully wore everyday out of comfort and habit. The silence between them was wrought with uncomfortable tension.

“Kix, please…” she pleaded through a shaking whisper and closed eyes, unable to hold his gaze through the shame she felt at her selfish desperation. "Make me forget how lonely I am."

“I’m not him,” he murmured back without a trace of anger or malice, his voice instead painful honesty. “I can’t be him, especially not when you’re drunk.”

She inhaled a quivering breath, trying to quell the torrent of emotions churning in her body, “I miss him.”

“I know. I miss him too. But this…this isn’t a good idea.”

Her head fell and eyes finally opened again, staring at her hands resting limply in her lap, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“It's okay. Get some sleep, Shepard. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

With a weak nod, she retreated from his room, leaving her shattered pride on the floor. He watched her go with deep conflict. As much as he knew she longed to be with Rex again, nothing could change the fact that he wasn’t his brother. The reason she stayed away all those years hadn’t escaped his attention, knowing the grief worn lines in her face all too well. She was searching for comfort in familiar arms, that much he knew. But even as he heard her cry herself to sleep through the thin walls, nothing could change the fact that there was only one Rex and he was somewhere far away, likely fighting the Empire, if he was even still alive.

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter Three: Holding Pattern

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter Two: Slip

Chapter Four: Repetitive Motions

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Shepard refuses to give on finding Kix, despite the fact that their search hasn't gone unnoticed.

Warnings: Cannonical violence

Word Count: 4.2k

Her fingers were too sticky, despite dipping them repeatedly in water. With an aggravated huff, she wetted them in the dish to her right and tried again. She was so focused on finally getting it right, that she forgot she wasn’t alone, bumping her hand into his unexpectedly. Looking up suddenly, she met his amused face for a moment before refocusing on the bamboo mat, topped with a nori sheet and the pile of rice she was failing to evenly flatten out. Around her, a dozen other couples did the same, carrying on flirtatious conversation that was as foreign to her as Hanar mating rituals.

It sounded like a good idea for a first date. Take a sushi-making class as a way to spend time together and break the ice. With a few rounds of saki, things had started well enough. The social lubrication helped take the edge off slightly, though she was still uncomfortable in the setting. If she was honest with herself, it was the last place she wanted to be, but a deal was a deal and she was nothing if not good to her word.

“Do you need some help?” He asked kindly with a light chuckle.

Shepard gave a self-deprecating sigh and joked as she began carefully filling the roll, “I just have bad luck with sushi.”

He mercifully swapped his neatly prepared mat with hers in an act of mercy and began rearranging her rice, “It’s okay. This just takes practice.”

“Bring a lot of girls here for a first date, do you?” She replied in an attempt to genuinely engage with him.

“I mean…once or twice,” he admitted, a bit embarrassed himself at the accidental confession. “It’s a good way to get to know one another without a lot of pressure, I guess. I’m curious though. What other bad experiences have you had with sushi?”

“It’s a pretty wild story,” she tried to dismiss the topic. “I doubt you’d believe me.”

“Come on, I’ve been hearing stories about you for years,” he persuaded, turning toward her. “Tell me.”

Shepard paused with trepidation.

Greg was a nice enough guy that had been asking her out for months. He was the sales representative for the liquor distributor Hag worked with to keep his bar stocked and the drinks flowing. Upon her return home, and decision to transition to civilian life, she subsequently became acquainted with him. Hag made no attempt at subterfuge in trying to set them up, and she assumed it was at his prompting that Greg first asked her out. At first, his proposal for a date put her on edge but after crypticall explaining that with “all she had been through”, she wasn’t interested in dating. He didn’t push the subject, but, every so often, he’d test the waters all the same and it quickly became a running joke. Eventually though, his charm and genuine demeanor got the better of her and she agreed to a date, promising Hag she’d truly give him a chance.

As she considered her options, her left thumb unconsciously drifted to her ring finger, searching for the comfort of the blue durasteel band she removed for the night. Although the presence of the perpetual indentation in her skin, she felt oddly vulnerable without it. She ignored the way his eyes flicked out her hand as she did so, she ignored the slight shift in his shoulders and the tensing of his chest. Lying about her feelings was never a strong suit, but she pressed on just the same. It was time to play a part and get the date over with.

“The last time I went for sushi, my evil clone tried to kill me and steal my life,” she flippantly answered as she began tucking and rolling the bamboo mat.

“Wait…what?” Greg asked in disbelief. “Really?”

“I’m serious,” she replied, setting the semi-successful roll on the plate to be cut later. “I fell through a fish tank on the Citadel and had to stop my clone from stealing my identity.”

“You certainly didn’t exaggerate, that is a wild story,” he chuckled. “Ya’ know, I actually think I remember hearing about that around a fire one night. I’ll admit, at the time I assumed it was just a good story to get a laugh but, your delivery is very convincing.”

As he spoke, his fingertips brushed across the hand that rested on the surface of the counter. She inhaled sharply at his touch, but fought the urge to withdraw her hand. The connection felt good if foreign. Instead of pulling back, she tilted her head to meet his gaze and swallowed hard. He shifted, closing the small gap between them and leaned in. His lips brushing against hers made her spine stiffen, but she ignored the instinct to push him away and relaxed her face to lean into the kiss.

Had they been alone, he would have acted differently when he felt the tip of her tongue sweep across his lower lip, but since they were in the middle of a group class, he chastely pulled back, though when their eyes met again, he saw a flash of surprise on her face, as though she was expecting to see someone else. He wondered why she had been so resistant to accept his offer to go out. In that moment, which lasted no longer than the blink of an eye, he received confirmation of his suspicions as she took a deep breath and fidgeted with her left hand again. Rather than press the subject, he returned to the task at hand.

By the end of the class two hours later, they had reserved themselves to relative awkward silence, seasoned with very small conversation as they ate and cleaned their station. He could feel the tension and conflict rolling off her in waves as she seemed to carry on an internal argument with herself, the topic of which he had not been made privy to, though he could venture a guess. After helping her into her coat, they walked side by side down the sidewalk as he walked her home to the apartment she shared with her uncle, above the bar where she seemed to always be working. She wouldn’t meet his eyes and kept her arms firmly crossed across her chest. It didn’t take a C-Sec detective to see she was closing herself off.

“I hope he knows how lucky he is,” he finally, if casually said, breaking the three block pause in very small conversation. “Well, they are, not to make assumptions.”

Shepard looked at him abruptly, stopping in her tracks, “Who?”

“The person you’ve been thinking about all night,” he clarified without a trace of malice in his tone.

“Fuck,” her brows pinched in the middle as she sighed with a curse and looked at his feet, “Greg, I’m so sorry.”

He pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and rested them on her shoulders, “It’s okay. I get it. Dating is complicated, especially since the Reaper War. Hag told me you still might not be ready yet, but since you agreed I thought I’d take a shot anyway. I’m sure this wasn’t easy and…I’m sorry if kissing you crossed a line.”

“No, it didn’t, I just…” she tried to look him in the eye, but couldn’t for longer than a few moments.

“Are they still in your life?” He asked cautiously.

Shaking her head as an answer, she closed her eyes briefly and began walking again, though at a much lower, ambling pace. “He was an officer. A captain, actually. During the war, his ship was…sabotaged and crashed. When the scene was finally searched several weeks later, they didn’t find any survivors. His body wasn’t recovered. He’s presumed killed in action. It happened right at the end. I didn’t find out until after the war was over.”

By then, they had reached the entrance to the apartment over the bar. Just beyond them the neon sign buzzed in shades of green and blue and the din of rowdy conversation crescendoed and quieted through the opening and closing of the door as patrons to Hag’s Nest came and went on the busy Saturday night. The gentle glow of lights through the plexi window illuminated the sidewalk as shadows danced across the plasticrete with the movement inside.

“I’m so sorry,” he took her left hand gently to stop her, letting his thumb rub across her ring finger, feeling the indentation from a ring. “You were married.”

“Engaged,” she corrected, freely sliding her hand from his grip unbothered by his subtle method of gleaning the details. “Look, you seem like a really great guy. Under any other circumstances this would have been a great first date but I just don’t think I’m ready.”

He nodded subtly, “I understand. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or pressured. If I had known…well, it isn’t really any of my business. I appreciate that you told me what you did and that you were willing to give it a try. If you happen to find yourself ready again, and you’re interested…maybe a second first date?”

“Sure, thank you,” she smiled softly and kissed his cheek. “I hope you have a good night.”

With a nod, she opened the door, entered with a final wave, and closed it again. Leaning against the smooth steel, she released a deep, tired breath and waited until she heard his footsteps retreat down the sidewalk. Although she was emotionally exhausted, her mind was far too busy to call it a night. Opening the door slowly to make sure he was gone, she left the housing entrance and entered the bar. Much to her surprise, Hag was manning the establishment with only the help of a dishwasher who still had traces of acne on his young face and the bartender he had hired only a week prior. Weaving through the crowd, she hung her coat on the hook and threw an apron around her waist.

“You aren’t supposed to be back this early,” Hag didn’t even bother turning from the line of taps.

“Well good thing I am,” she replied, immediately jumping in unloading the waiting dishwasher behind the bar. “Where the fuck is Denny?”

“He needed the night off. Believe it or not, kiddo, I managed this bar just fine without you before the war,” he grabbed another glass as he spoke, only to blow the keg. “Goddammit!”

“Why did you give me the night off if you weren’t going to have a bar back?” She asked with irritation jogging to the basement stairs.

Upon entering the taproom, she began changing the keg. Much to her frustration, Hag followed, determined to keep her from doing her job as his hands tried to pull hers away. Undeterred, she shouldered him back with a disgusted scoff and scowl. He let her finish the task in silence, but upon completion, he continued.

“Was Greg really that bad?” He pointedly inquired, fed up with her pattern of behavior. “Or was it another case of ‘he just isn’t’ Rex’?”

“That’s not fair,” she retorted.

“It’s been five years, Jeanie! It’s time to move on.”

“I’m trying,” her reply was a bit too evasive for his satisfaction.

“Are you? Are you really trying? Because it seems like you don’t really want to.”

“That’s because I don’t! I loved Rex in a way I’ve never loved before and he’s still out there! No doubt fighting the Empire as I ran away with my tail between my legs like some beaten dog!”

“Would he want you to-”

“What about what I want? I want him! Not some else. Not a substitute, not someone ‘good enough’! I want the man that proposed to ME!” She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and use ration instead of emotion to explain herself. “Inevitably I would be starting a new relationship with a lie. The subject of where I was for almost two years in total after the Reaper War always comes up, if not on a first date, it eventually does. And what are my real options? I can lie and make up some bullshit story about being in a coma or adrift in the void space or some line from an old novel or I can tell the truth. That I was living on a planet no one has ever heard of and ended up in the middle of a civil war that resulted in the genocide of a religious order and the fall a thousand year old government at the hands of an army of clones. But in actuality I can’t say any of that because I’m under a gag order by the Citadel Council. And I have to lie away who Rex really was, or tell some half truth vaguely referencing ‘The War’, even though it had nothing to do with the Reapers. Under any real scrutiny, the whole story will all fall apart. How is that fair to them? Or me? I’m supposed to just lie away what happened, as though it meant nothing?”

Thick silence fell between them.

“I didn’t think about it that way,” he shamefully admitted.

“I can’t keep doing this, Hag,” Shepard finally confessed. “I know you mean well by encouraging me to date but…”

“Okay, I’ll back off,” he embraced his adopted daughter. “I just didn’t want to see you stuck in the past, missing out on what life has to offer. If I’d understood what this was doing to you…if I’d been paying attention…I’m sorry, Jeanie.”

“I forgive you,” she rested against his shoulder. “I guess you’ll just be stuck with me for eternity. That isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Depends. Do I need to find a new liquor rep? Cause it’s a bitch of a thing to find one as good as Greg.”

“It’ll be okay,” with a chuckle, she stepped back, “If anything, he might muster up a few discounts cause he feels bad.”

“Well, in that case hold out until he can get me a deal on single malt. That’s been killing me lately.”

They reentered the bar laughing and fell into their familiar pace of taking orders, filling glasses, and managing the patrons. If there was one thing Shepard could count on, it was that working in a bar filled her hours with distractions. Time was never an issue as long as she stayed busy, which was why, upon returning home, she began working seventy hours a week at the bar. She reasoned that, as Hag was getting older, she needed to learn the business so she could someday take over when he was ready to retire. It was plausible enough that he agreed, with the caveat that she still made time for her personal life, by which the established the minimum frequency of her dating.

In reality, Hag had no interest in her love life and knew she needed structure and routine as she transitioned away from military life. But he also saw the warning signs that she was refusing to unpack her emotional baggage, which he knew was only going to build up over time. The combined trauma of the Reaper War and her ultimate involvement in the Clone War was a compounded loss no one would be able to process on their own. As much as he wanted to push in to see a professional to deal with it, she was an adult and it wasn’t his place to strong arm her into therapy. What’s more, the point she made about the time she was missing, presumed dead following the Reaper War, applied to counseling as well. A group of politicians had effectively silenced her in the name of galactic security, regardless of the ultimate harm it caused.

He hated that his hands were so tied. From the moment he found Shepard digging through the garbage cans in search of some discarded food when she was runaway, alone and shivering under snow laden clothes, he knew she had conditioned herself to carry the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. It was an unhealthy behavior in adults, much less children and despite the work they did in her youth to change those habits, he saw the work undone when she became a soldier. In the environment where literal lives were resting in the decision she made, he knew she would struggle as much as she succeeded. Then came Akuze, then N7, the Prothean Beacon, Spectre designation, the Collectors, Cerberus and the Reapers.

All Hag could do was stand by and watch as the tension piled upon her psyche, praying every night that she was surrounded by people that wouldn’t let her carry the burden alone. That would push and challenge her to keep current with her feelings as she tucked her head to her shoulder and plunged forward, once more unto the breach. There was no doubt in his mind that she was one of the best soldiers the Alliance had ever seen, but he also knew from personal experience that the organization had a nasty habit of running those exceptional people into an early grave.

That was the reason he kept close tabs on her routines as a civilian. He understood all too well the importance of routine as a soldier adjusted to life outside the service and as much as he worked to ensure she had the structure she would need, he also took subtle action to ease her into a more organic way of life. Although she rose early and began every day with rigorous exercise, he would find reasons to send her on errands or find new skills for her to learn to maintain their home. At times she seemed suspicious of his encouragement for her to take lessons in cooking or skycar maintenance, but she also seemed to welcome the new challenges. She was always fine, as long as she was busy. The sudden and deafening sound of breaking glass from the dish pit broke his train of thought. Before he could react, Shepard was bounding past him to check on the dishwasher.

He turned back to the rows of bottles on glass shelves as he poured a double, then pulled a beer, then ran a tab, knowing she had the situation under control. That was Shepard. Always running to the sound of catastrophe, happier to throw herself into someone else’s crisis than deal with her own. Worrisome as it was, he’d rather have her sweeping up broken glass than in the middle of someone else’s war.

Closing was just a few minutes away. The chairs were up on the tables, as were the stools on the bar, save for two, which Hag and Shepard occupied as they sat and enjoyed a drink at the end of a busy night. After the dishwasher unloaded the final rack of glasses, he punched out and went home. Hag pulled the register and sealed the bag to count it in the morning as Shepard cleaned their glasses and wiped the bar top. As she went to the back, she heard the door open and close.

“Sorry buddy, we’re closed for the night,” she called as she returned to shoo away whomever wandered in.

“Aah, come Lola,” a familiar voice answered. “Don’t tell me civilian life has made you so soft that oh-two hundred is late for you now.”

She stood in the doorway from the kitchen for a moment before a warm smile burst across her face. With a spring in her step, she embraced Vega tightly, truly grateful to see him for the first time in years.

“What are you doing here?” It was impossible to hide the surprise in her voice. “I didn’t think I was going to see you until the ceremony.”

“My ship got diverted to London. I persuaded my way into a couple more days of shore leave and traded a bottle of tequila for a seat on the next shuttle across the pond. Thought you might want to head to the Citadel early and tear it up again, just like old times. There’s a shuttle leaving late tomorrow morning and I might have booked two tickets on it.”

As she tried to think of reasons why she couldn’t, Hag piped up, “She’d love to, Jimmy. I think a little R&R is just what Jeanie needs.”

“Jeanie has work to do,” she countered, collecting the data pad from the bar, only to have Hag pluck it from her hands.

“No, Jeanie does not. I may be old and decrepit, but I still know how to run the bar I built from the ground up. Besides, I doubt you’ll want to talk to Greg tomorrow. Run along, kid. I’ve got this.”

Annoyed, but grateful, she pointedly snatched a bottle of tequila from the top shelf along with two glasses and led Vega through the rear of the bar to the back entrance to the apartment stairwell. Once they were alone in her attic bedroom, which was more or less a studio apartment, she handed him a glass and poured two fingers. He sat at the desk in a worn seat that barely held his weight, and watched quietly as she retrieved a bag from her closet.

“So, how you been, Lola?” He asked if for no other reason than to fill the silence in the room.

She shrugged, stuffing a fistful of rolled sock and folded panties into the bag, “Fine I guess. Still adjusting.”

He nodded and fell quiet, “So…Greg.” The tone of his voice bordered on mocking with the emphasis on the ‘gr’ of the name.

“Don’t start,” she sighed with a tipsy curling at the corner of her mouth, stealing his glass and pulling from it.

“I’m not judging a book by its cover,” he toyed as he filled the vacant glass to replace his lost beverage. “Doesn't sound like it went well. Was he another fanboy tool?”

“No, thank God. He was actually really great. I'm still such a mess. I have no business trying to get into a serious relationship, which is what I think he was wanting,” she moved onto shirts, pulling several identical black tees from her drawer and shoving them into the bag.

“Have you talked to someone…professional?”

“I tried a few times, but it’s complicated.”

James nodded slowly, knowing the complications she faced all too well. She sat opposite him on the foot of bed, resting her elbows on her knees. With a soft breath, he sat next to her and raised his arm, so she could lean into his chest. Resting his hand on her other shoulder, they sat that way for a long, quiet moment, as they had from time to time when her detainment on Earth became overwhelming.

Part of him always wondered if they would be able to make a relationship work. Despite how the cards were dealt during the war, he still cared for Shepard deeply. Although they had been ill-fated lovers before, everything had changed since then. He knew she had loved him, at least to some degree and he was more than happy to play second string in the game than sit on the bench, but he also knew how vulnerable she was and had been since returning home. It was why she buried herself in the bar and hadn’t left the planet in half a decade. When she looked up at him, all he saw was the raw loneliness she pushed down day after day.

He knew if he leaned in to kiss her, she wouldn’t stop him or shy away. He knew she wanted him to make a move, to take the lead and absolve her of her isolation, at least physically, for a few hours. And part of him wanted to, he wanted to hear those lovely, breathy moans in his ear and feel her hot skin under his touch. He wanted to taste her mouth, her body, her sex on his tongue. The memories of their prior, secretive trysts were fading and he longed to experience the heat of her passion once more. But he also recognized the pain hiding in her eyes and although she trusted him implicitly to take care of what she needed, he knew it would be a mistake, just as it had been then.

“The shuttle leaves at eleven-hundred,” he broke the silence once more, before the tension of old feelings could build. “You should finish packing and get some sleep.”

Almost immediately, she snapped back to herself and stood, aggressively clearing her throat to banish the tension from the room like an old demon, “Yeah, sure thing. You need a place to stay?”

“I’ll take the couch downstairs, if that’s okay,” he likewise rose to his feet, setting the empty glass on the side table.

“Of course. Blankets are in the cubby of the coffee table,” she directed, barely able to make eye contact.

“Sleep well, Lola,” he said, moving toward the stairs.

“You too, James,” she replied. “And…thanks.”

“It’s going to be okay, Shepard. You’ll come back from this.”

The insightful comment took her by surprise, and she found herself unable to reply as he descended to the living room. Draining her glass, she hurriedly finished packing. Undoubtedly, she’d have forgotten something but, as she brushed her teeth and braided her hair for bed, she wasn’t as worried as she would have been on a different day. Maybe they were right and she just needed some time away. Some shore leave with her old team to reset her head. Although the idea sounded like banishment at first, maybe time away would be as bad as she thought. It certainly couldn't hurt.

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter Two: Slip

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter One: Pursuit

Chapter Three: Holding Pattern

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to The Empire. With everything they fought for destroyed, there's little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledged their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Rex and Shepard search blindly for different targets.

Warnings: Canonical type violence

Word Count: 5.5k

Desert planets. Why was it always desert planets?

James sighed as he readied to don his helmet. It wasn’t that he disliked an arid environment, he’d had plenty of hot and dry weather growing up in San Diego, but the seemingly endless supply of dry, lifeless desert planets the greater galaxy had to offer made him long for a peaceful garden world every once in a while as he, Shepard, Vod sat in thick silence as the shuttle descended through the atmosphere of Ponemah Terminal. He watched his friend and former lover closely, knowing better than most that she was hanging by a thread. Shepard was undoubtedly tough and resilient, but in the six months he had been her bodyguard during her detainment on Earth, he had come to learn her tells on an intimate level.

Aside from the dark circles under her eyes and the slight gaunt of her cheeks, indicating she wasn’t getting enough sleep and forgetting to eat, he noticed the rapid bouncing of her right leg as she sat on the bench next to him and that she was chewing on the inside of her lower lip. He had come to learn that both meant she was uncertain of her course of action, despite trying to put forth an air of confidence. When she rolled her shoulders and rotated her neck, he knew they were both an attempt to relieve the tension from too many hours hunched over a terminal or data pad. Aside from the obvious fact that she was grieving the fate of the Clone Army, and felt responsible for not stopping Order 66, James knew she was spinning inside. She was determined to find Kix, but also blindly desperate. There weren’t many times he had seen grief get the better of her judgment, perhaps twice at most, but when it did, she needed someone to keep her grounded.

As the shuttle neared the surface, the turbulence of the unfettered sandstorm caused the craft to shudder violently. The trio bounced in their seats at the jolts and held onto grab bars to keep from being tossed about. Shepard donned her helmet as well, and opened her Omni-Tool, verifying they were nearing the signal.

“I see the wreck, Captain,” Cortez called from the cockpit over the din of the howling winds. “The storm is a nightmare on my instruments and comms are spotty. You’re gonna have to make this quick. If the storm gets much worse, we’ll be grounded until it passes.”

“We shouldn’t be long,” she replied, as they slowed, drawing and readying her rifle as the door slid open.

Immediately, the onslaught of sand in the extreme winds broke their shields as the three dashed for cover in the carcass of the elongated Separatist cruiser. The nose of the ship had been buried in the sand, following what was clearly an uncontrolled descent through the atmosphere. The aft section of the ship had stayed aloft when the vessel came to rest, but after months of bombardment of extreme weather, the exposed half had succumbed to the gravity of the planet and sagged into the ground as well.

Determined as ever, Shepard forced the ajar access door open enough for the trio to slip inside as Cortez landed the shuttle on the lee side of the wreck in an attempt to protect the Kodiak as much as possible. James and Vod followed her in, helmet lights illuminating the large, eerily silent corridor. They pushed forward, avoiding the remains of battle droids and equipment alike as they trudged up the steep incline toward the forward half of the ship and the faint life sign within.

Joker shifted nervously in his seat. He always hated losing comms during a mission, especially when it was Shepard’s. It reminded him far too much of the final push to retake Earth and defeat the Reaper’s once and for all, when she vanished into the thick red of Harbinger’s beam, leaving them in the dark if she was alive or not. The memories of that day, of being forced to leave the system as the Crucible fired, made his skin prickle and muscles tense. He hated the feeling.

“Edi, how are the scopes looking?” He asked, trying to find reassurance.

“Scopes are quiet, Jeff,” she replied, knowing why he was asking. “I’m still linked to Vega’s vitals via his HUD. There are no signs they are engaged in a firefight at this time.”

“Good,” he unconsciously scratched at the right side of his beard, an unconscious habit when he was nervous, which he had been doing more and more in recent months. “Keep a close eye on it.”

“Jeff,” she quietly, if knowingly stated, gesturing to his hand with a gentle nod.

Realizing what he was doing, he dropped his hand to the armrest of his seat, “Yeah…thanks Edi.”

They sat in extended silence, though he kept checking the scanner. Alenko approached and asked for an update. Everyone was on edge when the comms were dark. Suddenly, an alarm trilled.

"My sensors are detecting a ship preparing to drop from hyperspace," Edi notified. "The profile matches an Imperial cruiser."

"Enable the stealth drive and get us out of visual range, Joker," Kaidan ordered. "Keep trying the comms, they need to know what's headed their way."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered to himself as the ship pulled out of orbit.

Scuttled ships always gave Vega the creeps, especially ships filled with inactive robots…platforms…whatever they were called in those parts. Scorch marks on the walls and scattered bones among the blasted droid parts told the tale of an apparent standoff between the Separatists and whomever ventured into the ship seeking opportunity. His heart was pounding in his ears after clearing the corners and being startled by yet another husk of a B1 lingering in the darkness. The torches on their helmets and weapons made their trek through the inky blackness of the ship like something out of a horror vid. Outside the compromised durasteel hull, the wind howled across the numerous jagged holes left by the crash and worked bigger and bigger by the merciless work of sand and time, which only added to the tension in his gut.

Still, they pushed forward as quickly as they could, reasoning that the sooner they cleared the ship and either did or didn’t find Kix, the faster they could get the hell out of there. Their initial entry was relatively simple, no doubt the easily accessible fore section being picked clean by scavengers looking for easy parts or supplies. There was even evidence of the skeleton and detritus of the ship being scrapped as well, with missing panels that were cut clean in search of wiring, fuses, and couplings. However, once they made the initial climb to the apex of the broken vessel, their descent into the bowels was a much more dangerous affair.

The access point was small, barely big enough for him to squeeze through. Attaching her weapon to her back, she activated her Omni-Tool to verify they were on the right track to the faint lifesign Kix was giving off. All three peered down into the darkness, hoping to see the bottom but instead saw the light fade into the seemingly endless abyss.

“Shepard Captain, we advise allowing us to descend first. This platform will be undamaged by the impact,” Vod recommended.

“Do it,” she nodded in agreement.

Releasing the deck, they slid out of sight, only the occasional clang giving any indication he was still there. As they waited, Vega looked at Shepard, trying to find the right thing to say, something that would help her see the insanity of their mission. But she stubbornly held her gaze down the shaft, refusing to give him more than a fractional glance, because she knew what he was going to say. It was everything she had been grappling with for months as she clung to the faintest of hopes that their efforts wouldn’t end in utter failure. Just as he opened his mouth, their comms crackled.

“We have reached the bottom. There is another break in the hull not far from your position. From there the angel of descent levels off. You should reach the bottom without injury.”

Without hesitation, Shepard released the deck and followed Vod. Sighing and muttering a string of profanity in Spanish, Vega dutifully followed. As promised, they reached a bend in the hull about halfway down. The inky blackness enveloped everything but their torches on their gear, casting jagged shadows at every glance. They jogged the remainder of the way, regrouping and assessing their position.

The sound of the storm outside was significantly muffled, indicating they had reached the buried section of the wreck as they pushed on. Around them the hull was crumpled and crushed from the weight of the sands above, which was also leaking in through the numerous holes. As they proceeded, the durasteel groaned under stress, compelling James to speak up.

“Shepard, this is loco,” he tried to appeal to her sense of reason. "This thing could collapse at any moment."

She paused just long enough to check her tool before continuing, “I’m not turning back now. Head back out if you want, but I'm not leaving without Kix."

Biting back frustrated words, he nodded briskly and firmed the grip on his Mattock, indicating he was in. She exhaled sharply through her nose and continued on in the thick darkness. Eventually, they reached a door that was partly ajar at the base. The scanner read a strong signal within, so Shepard peered through the gap on her hands and knees. Adrenaline flooded her body at the sight of an elongated oval pod that faintly glowed blue from a small port window at the top.

“He’s here!” She called. “Get the door open!”

Together the three pushed and heaved and eventually pried the warped durasteel back, despite its groaning, screeching protests. The pod had fallen from its holding clamps in the crash and lay against a broken bulkhead. They managed to level it on the floor as Shepard squeezed through the gap and darted to the pod, wiping away the film of sand and dust obscuring the view port. A breath caught in her throat. It was Kix, peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware that the Republic had fallen to the Empire, that the Grand Army had slaughtered the Jedi, and that his brothers of the 501st were dead.

“Vod, start working to get this thing open.”

As they went to work, Shepard tried to reach Cortez on her comm. There was no way they were going to be able to reascend the way they came, especially if Kix was just out of stasis. Unable to get through, she and Vega returned to the corridor to look for an alternate exit. Their only option was a break in the hull on the port side where the ship had more or less broken in two. Muted daylight seeped through the crack, indicating they were at the surface of the dune.

“Battle droids were sometimes equipped with cutting torches,” she instructed, looking at the docking slots. “See if you can find one.”

They looked among the inactive droids, bones of animals and scavengers unlucky enough to be trapped, and the unending piles of drifting sand. As they searched, a series of impacts reverberated through the ship followed by the dull thunder of footfalls. Vega’s earlier concerns were verified, which he communicated with a knowing glance. The Empire had found them. Incentivized to hurry, she finally found a fusion-cutter attached to a B2 droid still in its docking station. Checking the fuel canister, she thrust it into Vega’s hand. Reluctant and unfamiliar with the tool, he darkened the visor on his helmet and went to work all the same as Shepard returned to the cell where Vod was working to free Kix.

“How’s it going?” She asked as patiently as possible.

“Kix Medic’s vitals are stable. We are working to find the proper sequence of commands to awaken him without risking his life.”

“We don’t have time. Troopers are in the ship making their way toward us. Do your best, okay?”

Pulling her rifle from her shoulder, she returned to James and stood at the ready as he worked. The process of cutting through the hull was slow and likely wasn’t the intended load of the torch. Together, with the use of her Omni-Tool, they cut the durasteel part way and bent the jagged edges aside, until the gap was big enough they could slip out. Tossing the used torch aside, Vega drew his assault rifle, took a position behind a fallen bulkhead, and waited as the sandstorm raged just beyond the protective shell of the ship.

“How’s he doing?” He asked Shepard as they watched the entrance.

“Stable, but it’s slow going. We have to buy Vod some time.”

“You really going to be able to pull the trigger on clones?”

The question bit at her conscience, having already been confronted with the necessity of killing Rex’s brothers in combat. She answered Vega’s question with her eyes and, even through the plexi visor in the darkened ship, she saw his shoulders slump at her reply.

“These are probably TK troopers anyway. Enlisted soldiers who have chosen the Empire’s side freely. It didn’t take Palpatine long to phase out the clones once they had fulfilled their purpose.”

She tried to reach Cortez to ensure their exit was secured, but only got a broken signal. There was nothing left to do but wait and hold the line. Ahead of them, she heard the echoing clatter of cheap plastoid and the zip of blasters being charged. It seemed they wouldn’t have to wait long.

“Up ahead!” A voice called. “I see tracks!”

Shepard aimed through her scope, reading the thermal signatures of the advancing troops. Without hesitation, she squeezed the trigger, the crack of her black widow echoing through the cavernous ship. Just as she fired a second and recovered from the recoil for a third, waves of red blaster bolts descended on their cover. The troopers opened fire, blasting blindly into the darkness. As they slowly advanced, James threw one of his grenades before returning fire with his assault rifle.

Static crackled in her ear as Cortez finally made contact, “Captain, signal me when you’re ready for extraction and I’ll do a flyby. It’ll be tight, but we can make it.”

“How’s the Normandy?” She asked in reply as they continued to take down trooper after trooper.

“Bogged down, but holding strong. The window is closing, so hurry.”

“Vod!” Shepard shouted into her comm, “Anytime would be great!”

“We almost have the pod open,” they replied tensely. “Please standby.”

Ahead of them, the unit was advancing steadily, despite their efforts. It wouldn’t be long before they were overrun.

“I’m open to ideas,” James yelled, throwing his last grenade.

Using a biotic push, she sent the line reeling back, dashed to his position and opened her Omni-tool. Working furiously, she tapped into the residual power supply of the ship and took control of what remained of the battle droids. The lights of the ship powered on briefly before the platforms came to life. Staggering out of their slots, they descend on their assigned targets. Super battle droids advanced against the stormtroopers who immediately retreated to cover.

Although a sound tactic, they both knew the now antiquated, sand laden droids likely wouldn’t last long. Behind them, the distinct illuminated head of Vod and the slumped shadow of Kix entered the corridor. They ducked behind cover as Vod took Shepard’s place in holding the Imperial forces at bay. She knelt next to the clone, taking his face in her hand.

“Kix, you okay?” She hollered over the cacophony around them.

He nodded, but was clearly disoriented from his abrupt waking from stasis. Vod joined the fray, making sure to keep him behind cover. Shepard opened her comm, barking orders at Cortez, who acknowledged her orders and confirmed a flyby. Calling to James, she ordered him out first with Kix as Vod provided cover. Their departure was noticed by the troopers, who immediately pushed forward through the compromised droids. She was the last one out, making sure to leave several thermal detonators behind for good measure.

They staggered and climbed to the top of the Dune where the shuttle was waiting. When the last of the battle droids fell the troopers immediately advanced, opening fire as they boarded the craft. In a flash of swirling sand and blaster bolts the group made their escape.

As expected, the ascent through orbit was bumpy, tossing them around the cabin until they were able to strap in. Clearly the Empire did not want any of them to get away. Once they were clear of the atmosphere, the Normandy dropped from an evasive FTL jump, just long enough to pluck the shuttle from space. No sooner had they cleared the kinetic barriers than engines revved to get them clear of the sector.

"Joker, we're in, get us the fuck out of here!" Vega shouted over the comm in the cockpit as the shuttle settled onto the deck. "Set course for the Veil."

"Aye-aye, Commander," he replied. "Setting course."

"Belay that order! Shepard exclaimed from her place at Kix's side, but her protest went ignored.

Vega continued undeterred, despite the slight glance over his shoulder, "Plot three jump changes along the way. Let's make sure we give the Empire the slip.

The engines immediately pulsed and engaged, spurring Shepard to follow James as he brushed past her and out of the shuttle. She ran after him, grabbed his shoulder and yanked hard, forcing him to face her.

"I'm talking to you, Vega! I'm not done out here!"

His normally calm face pulled into a tight snarl and he snapped with a finger jabbed into her chest, “Yes, you are! You’re done, Shepard! Enough. We’re going home!”

When he turned away from her toward the lift, she ran in front of him to protest. For the first time since he’d known her, he put his sheer strength on display by picking her up by the side edges of her chest plate and moving her aside like a child without breaking his stride. Dropping her back on the deck several paces later, more or less shoving her toward the gear lockers, he took a step but turned back with several final, cutting words.

“Getting yourself killed searching for Rex isn’t going to bring your mother back!”

As the words echoed through the hangar, a silence hung in the high ceiling as though all the air had been vented into the vacuum of space.

Her eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped for a moment, “The fuck did you just say?”

Although he knew he shouldn’t have said it, there was no going back, “You heard me, Shepard. You couldn’t save your mother then, so now you’ll kill yourself trying to save everyone else, no matter the price to the people around you.”

“That isn’t what this is about!”

“Like hell it isn’t! This was never your war and any other normal person would have let the Republic sort its own shit out. You decided you were going to get in the middle of it before you had even set foot on the Normandy again!”

“I never asked you to follow me out here!” She deflected.

“Did you honestly think any person on this boat was going to leave you behind? Every one of us is here because we care more about you than you care about yourself or what you mean to the people who have been with you from the beginning," he chuckled in disbelief. "Are you really going to make us bury you again?”

A breath caught in her chest as she looked in the eyes of the soldiers, suddenly seeing outside herself. She wanted to rebuke his accusation, deny that she could be so selfish and singularly focused but she couldn’t. Vega was right.

“James I…”

“How many more second chances are you going to get to live your life?” He asked, pointedly reflecting back the words she had spoken to him a year earlier.

She felt the eyes of everyone in the hangar on her, watching and waiting for her next move. If she truly wanted to, she could compel them to stay. It wouldn’t take an order or a command, she could just ask and deep down she knew they would. The men and women who made up the crew of the Normandy were good soldiers, many of whom had already followed her through the gates of hell and back, but risking their lives was never her desire. She had actively avoided risking their lives, knowing the cause to which she had devoted herself had nothing to do with them, or the Alliance, or the Citadel Council, or anyone back home. Yet, they waited quietly for her to either insist or relent.

“Shepard,” Kix broke the thick silence between them as Cortez and Vod helped him approach, “Rex wouldn’t want you to do this. Wherever he is, if he’s even still alive, he’d want you to go home and move on. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy."

“I can't do that,” her voice wavered. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Lola,” Vega stepped close, placing a hand on her shoulder bell. “I know how hard this is but…please. Don’t make us lose you for good.”

At the sincerity and honesty of his plea, her eyes fell. Painful as it was, she had to concede the odds of finding Rex or Ahsoka before the Empire, when she had no leads to speak of, were infinitesimal, and pushing the pursuit would only result in more collateral damage than she’d already experienced.

As Kix was taken to the lift, and James departed for the bridge, she turned and looked at her haggard ship. It was a reflection of herself. Overworked, exhausted, and at least for the moment, out of the fight. Although she wanted to vow that she’d return, that she’d refuse to let Palpatine win, her resolve fractured. Walking away from a fight was never in her nature, nor was bowing her head in defeat, but as she began slowly shucking her gear and placing it in the equipment locker, she truly looked at her kit. Numerous hairline fractures in the surface of the ceramic plating and patches of melted carbon fiber from breakthrough blaster shots. The N7 emblem she had worked so hard to earn was warped and marred from the fight. As much as she resisted admitting it to herself, maybe even Captain Fucking Shepard couldn’t beat the odds this time.

Defeated, she closed the locker and handed her weapons to Cortez, who dutifully stood by to receive them for maintenance and cleaning. With a somber nod of appreciation, she turned to the lift and waited. When the door opened, she saw Garrus looking worried as ever. He knew the expression she wore all too well, it was one she often visited him with during their fight against the Collectors as she tried to reconcile the allies she had lost in her decision to stay with Cerberus for the sake of the mission. With an appraising hum, he waved her into the carriage.

“Come on, Shepard. You look like you need a drink.”

Shepard set the glass on the top of the bar and took a deep breath, rubbing the tired muscles on the back of her neck as Garrus looked at her in stunned silence. To her left, the barriers swirled and flared as the Normandy slipped through hyperspace on the long journey home. After the first round went straight to her head, Garrus brought her a hot meal from the galley, the real food she’d had in months. She ate heartily and immediately poured another glass of scotch as her best friend watched her closely, giving her the space to fully debrief and decompress the prior eight months.

As always he listened quietly, his trained, inescapable cop listening and aware of the clues to how she was talking or what she wasn’t saying as an indication of how she was really doing. In reality, he didn’t have to work very hard. She was essentially an open book to him, pouring out the isolation, hardship, and defeat she faced after the Normandy had been recalled by the Citadel Council, as well as the subsequent search for Kix. With each close call and near miss she recounted, from being prevented from leaving Kamino with Kina Ha, to her narrow escape thanks to Grin falsifying her death, to the Empire getting closer and closer to her as she searched, he was grateful she was sitting on the Starboard Observation at the bar rather than being held in some nameless hole being tortured for information or drifting amongst the rubble of her ship, never to be found again. Eventually, she quieted and stared at the bottom of her empty glass, having run out of words.

“Shepard, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, refilling her glass. “You couldn’t have done any more than you did.”

She sighed heavily and swirled the aged single malt into her glass for a moment before downing the contents in a single gulp, “None of it mattered. Part of me knew after that first meeting with Palpatine that I couldn’t stop it, but I didn’t want to accept defeat without trying, you know?. If I had been capable of stopping the Reapers, I could stop this, right?” She shook her head and considered another drink, to numb the pain if nothing else, before setting it down and pushing away her empty glass. “After Tup killed General Tiplar, I knew it was over. Seeing that alert on my Omni-tool, realizing what those fucking chips were meant to do? Palpatine had played a long game to get where he was. Some little upstart like me or Fives wasn’t going to derail his scheme.”

The door slid open, drawing their attention as Kix entered. Shepard studied him for a moment though she couldn’t hide the way her brows pinched at the familiarity of his face. Although she waved him over to join them, she also gestured to Garrus for another drink. They sat in a moment of awkward silence, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you for finding me,” Kix finally said. “After I was captured, I wasn't sure there was much hope for me.”

Shepard nodded slowly, only able to hold his gaze for a brief moment before turning back to the glass she fiddled with in her hands, “I’m glad we found you. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, Vod gave me a rundown of what happened.”

More silence filled the room.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it,” she offered. “I tried, not that it made much difference.”

“You had a bigger impact than you realize, Shepard,” Kix countered. “Do you remember coming to my medbay and asking about the anomalies on the scans Doctor Chakwas collected? That got me thinking, questioning. After Ringo Vinda, Tup, and Fives, I dug deeper. I went to a clinic on 1313 and had my head scanned. They found my chip and I had them take it out. General Windu got your message about safe protocols and Fives’ habits with water. The way he always used clean tabs, even when the water came from Alliance sources. He came to me after I tried to talk to Rex before we arrived on Anaxis. The stories weren’t adding up and he knew it.”

“Then why didn’t he stop Palpatine?” Her voice was desperate to make sense of it all.

“I don’t know. Shortly after we saved Echo from Skako Minor, I was captured.”

“Echo? Fives said he died on the Citadel.”

“He survived,” Kix replied. “A prisoner of war until we found him. But…this was all bigger than either of us. With Order 66, I doubt even General Skywalker could have survived.”

“Fucking Skywalker,” in her inebriated state, she couldn’t stop the dismissive huff at the mention of his name as she rambled to herself. “This is all that goddam puppet’s fault.”

“What do you mean?” Kix asked critically. “That fight you had with him on Ringo Vonda. You called him a puppet then too. Why? What do you know that I don’t?”

She immediately regretted her loose tongue, knowing how much the men of the 501st respected their general, “Nothing, I’m just drunk and tired.”

“You’re lying,” he rebuked sharply. “Please show me enough respect to tell the truth of what happened to my general and my brothers.”

She released a heavy sigh and slumped back onto the bar with a low head and shoulders. As much as she didn’t want to cause Kix more harm by revealing the burdensome truth she had learned upon returning to the Jedi Temple after the purge, he deserved to know. With a nod, he sat next to her, holding her exhausted, glassy gaze as she recounted the details.

“It was a slaughter. No one in the temple saw it coming, nor were they spared, regardless of age,” she held his gaze, seeing that he took her meaning. “Vod and I pushed through the bodies and debris searching for anyone that was still alive until we heard fighting in the upper chambers. When we got there we saw Masters Yoda and Kenobi. I saw the security footage. Anakin…” she swallowed back a swell of emotion.

“Say it, please,” Kix rested a hand on her shoulder.

As difficult as it was, Shepard realized he had to hear her say the words in order to make it real. “Anakin led the 501st, less the 3-22 to the temple. He led the purge at Palpatine’s direction. He…he turned to the dark side.”

He nodded slowly and appreciative of the confirmation, “But some Jedi survived. You saw Generals Yoda and Kenobi.”

“Yes, what happened to them afterwards…I don’t know. Yoda was going to face Palpatine, Obi-wan was going to face Anakin, rather Darth Vader, as he’s now known.”

“What about Ahsoka? You said she was alive.”

“We found the wreck of the Tribunal. Someone buried several dozen troopers. There were two sets of footprints leading away from the site. One set of clone trooper boots and one smaller set of prints. Ahsoka was the only non-clone on the ship, aside from Maul who I’m assuming didn’t have small feet. The logical conclusion is that it was Rex and Ahsoka.”

Again, he nodded slowly, “That makes sense.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it,” she repeated.

He shrugged, disconnected and internalized, “Like you said, Palpatine played a long game.”

The whole of the prior months suddenly caught up to her and she was exhausted, “From what I’ve been told, Liara has gotten my apartment ready on the Citadel ready for my return. I…I can’t stay there. It’s too complicated right now, but I want you to make yourself comfortable as you decide what you want to do now. Liara is going to get you set up with an ID and all the papers you’ll need to start over. I have a friend in the wards who runs a clinic. Her name is Doctor Michele. If you want to give civilian life a try, I’d be happy to see if she could meet with you. I’m sure she’d like an extra set of hands down there. You can stay here as long as you like. Make it home if you want.”

“What about you?” He asked.

“Once I get things settled with the Citadel Council, I’m going home to Terra. Bureaucracy always demands its pound of flesh, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“Where will you go?

“My uncle has a pub in Boston. I’m sure he needs some help and I…I just need some time away.”

When she looked in his familiar eyes, something broke. She wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the alcohol, but being near Kix was far more painful than she anticipated. The lines in his face, the sound of his voice, the comforting feel of his kind, platonic touch was more than she could bear and tore open the emotional wounds she had been desperately trying to ignore until they scarred over.

“I think I need some sleep,” she muttered, standing with a sway and walking haphazardly to the lift.

Kix rose to follow, genuinely concerned as she carefully departed, but Garrus stopped him.

“Give her space,” he wisely advised. “I know you want to help her, but you’re too…”

“Familiar,” he finished, immediately understanding the problem.

“Yeah…familiar.”

[twistedsarchive]

Chapter One: Pursuit

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Prologue: Shattered

Chapter Two: Slip

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Rex and Shepard search blindly for different targets.

Warnings: Canonical-type violence

Word Count: 3k

Shepard cut thrusters as the ship settled into orbit around Jakku. She released a tired sigh as she turned from the controls. In the months since the rise of the Empire, she and Vod had been searching. Searching for Rex and Ahsoka, searching for the Geth that were still unaccounted for, and by a twist of fate, Kix.

Chance and happenstance set them on the trail after a lead from a Broker Agent sent her and Vod to Serreno, where they found Count Dooku’s apparent base of operations. The hope was to find information on exactly what the Separatists, and by extension Palpatine, had been hiding Reaper tech. While Shepard searched his desk for a data tape only finding a holodisk of a long haired, bearded Jedi she didn’t recognize, Vod dumped the terminal. Although they came up empty handed regarding both the Reapers and Geth, what they found instead was far more valuable.

The recording of Kix’s interrogation by a Command Droid was short, but revealing. Gone was his unique, if ostentatious haircut, which was replaced with the regulation high-and-tight worn by the majority of shinies she had met. He was visibly exhausted, having likely endured hours, if not days, of torture and interrogation. The questions were simple and to the point: Who had he told about the inhibitor chips? As he repeated his denial, she realized that the change in his appearance was likely hiding the tell tale scar of the chip removal. Despite her failure to convince Rex, despite failure to save Fives, she had planted the right questions in his mind to encourage him to look deeper and in doing so, had freed himself from the grip of the Emperor. Unfortunately, it seemed his efforts, like hers, like Fives’ were too little too late. His actions, discrete as she knew they had been, hadn’t gone unnoticed. At the end of the recording, Dooku ordered him delivered to Serreno for further questioning, but the ship never arrived.

In an ironic twist, the ship carrying him in statis, Obrexta III was ambushed by Republic forces as it tried to jump to hyperspace. The last transmission indicated a random jump point was selected to avoid capture. No further transmissions were received, which led them to the logical conclusion that the ship had crashed somewhere along the way. As much as she longed to find Rex and Ahsoka, to find the Geth and stamp out any brewing Reaper tech, finding Kix became her sole priority.

They systematically searched, following the projected route based on the final transmission. Scanning system by system in a methodical pattern though without success the repeated failures were taking its toll. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally from the fruitless search. The credit chit was running on fumes, as was the ship. Her stock of rations was growing thin and numerous run-ins with the Empire and other nefarious types left the ship and her armor damaged. Nevertheless, she persisted and refused to give up on finding him so long as she drew breath.

"Okay, Vod,” she said, deliberately ignoring the low fuel warning that flashed on the console. "Open long range scanners and see what we can find."

“Shepard Captain…” Vod started.

"I'm going to try Kix's frequency to see if there are any returns," she turned to the comm station.

“Shepard Captain…” they tried again, "We are compelled to remind you the probability of finding the ship-"

"Don't tell me the odds," she leveled her tone. "We have to find him."

"This search has nearly exhausted our supplies and credits. By our calculation, if we depart for our sector, we will barely have enough fuel to make the journey back to the Perseus Veil. We cannot rescue Kix Medic if we are nonfunctional."

"I can't…fail him too, Vod," her voice wavered.

They were out of their depth and had been since the beginning. It was why she failed Fives, it was why she failed to stop Palpatine, and it was why, after months of searching, she was no closer to locating either Rex or Kix than sge was to preventing the whole mess to begin with. The weight of her failures had settled across her shoulders with every occupied system they entered and threatened to break her normally unflappable resolve. As Vod's faceplates shifted in what quickly became an uncomfortable silence, a proximity alarm trilled. Shepard turned from the comm station just as the Normandy dropped from FTL and coasted alongside their port side. Her head shifted slowly to them, though their focus remained on the control panel. Between them, the comm chirped with an incoming call.

"Vod…"

"We are being hailed," their hand shifted, but her tone gave pause.

"Vod, how did the Normandy find us?"

"Because we contacted them without your knowledge."

Her jaw set as she punched the flashing button to open the link.

"Civilian craft Hag’s Nest, this is SSV Normandy, do you copy?” Joker casually called over the comm.

Shepard released a stiff, tense sigh and answered, “SSV Normandy, this is Hag’s Nest, we copy. Vega, the fuck you doing out here?”

“I was planning to ask you the same thing, Lola. The docking bay is prepped for your ship. Pull her in any time.”

“I don’t recall asking for a pickup,” she tried to keep her tone light, but there was an unmistakable bite to the words that didn’t go unnoticed, prompting a long moment of dead air before receiving a reply.

“We know you’re running on fumes and that your supplies are gone. This isn’t the time for a bluff.”

“I’m not done out here. We’re looking for-”

“I know who you’re looking for,” he snapped but paused to collect his thoughts, knowing the conversation was going to be committed to record. “I know the loss was hard on you, but wasting your time on a wild goose chase isn’t going to help-”

“Kix is out there,” she cut him off. “He listened to me and looked into the inhibitor chips. Dooku intervened before he could tell the Jedi and took him hostage. The ship was lost. I’m going to find it.”

“You don’t even know if he’s alive.”

Before Shepard could reply, the scanner trilled rapidly and Vod assessed the alert, “Shepard Captain, we have detected a weak signal from a nearby planet. The signature matches Separatists' distress beacons.

“Where is it?”

“Ponemah Terminal.”

“Set course,” she turned back to the comm. “Can’t talk, Vega. Gotta go.”

“Dock in the Normandy, Shepard. We’ll get you there faster and save you the fuel.”

She deliberated for a moment, unsure if there was going to be a catch or not, but the urgency of the moment overrode all else, so she seized the opportunity, “Standby, Normandy. Hag’s Nest is on approach.”

“We’re ready for you, Lola.”

“Thanks, James,” she cut the comm.

After pulling away and angling the ship on the right trajectory, her ship glided past the kinetic barrier. As promised, the center of the hangar was cleared and ready to receive them. Cortez stood by at the control panel, ready to close the ramp and secure the ship. Once they were inside, before she had even finished cycling down the engines, the Normandy was pulling out of orbit and preparing for FTL for her destination. Quickly donning her kit, feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

He released a held breath as the patrol marched down the corridor, extracting himself from the corner he ducked behind, despite the armor he wore in disguise. It was nearly identical to the kit he had worn his entire adult life, yet it felt so foreign. Something about it was oppressive and false. The edges of the plates dug into his skin through his body glove, the cuirasse sat unevenly on his chest, the shoulder bells wobbled as he walked. Although the load was lighter than Clone armor, it also likely meant it provided less protection.

“Junk armor,” Rex muttered to himself as he continued down the hall once the coast was clear, forcing himself to maintain a steady stride through the annoyance of the kit.

“Stop complaining,” Trace adjusted the choking collar of her drab greenish-gray officer’s uniform. “At least you don’t have to wear this monstrosity.

He chuckled lightly and they entered the corridor, R7 rolling behind them as they searched for an access point to the station. Upon finding the correct door, Rex entered the security card they had received from a contact and scanned for watchful eyes, waving them in before entering himself. The spunky astromech immediately wheeled to a port and plugged in. Rex doffed the helmet and rested a hand on his hip. Trace went to work as well, inserting a data tape in another station.

“Any luck, R7?” He asked, feeling antsy at the droid’s silence, more so when the domed head shook a negative. “Keep trying, Gregor said some Gen-1’s were sent to other training facilities.”

With an affirmative chirp, the droid resumed searching.

"I've got the supply schedule," Trace stated, pulling the data tape and tucking it into her pocket, “We can’t stay much longer. They’ll know we were here.”

“We can’t leave until we find Wolffe,” he whispered, shifting his feet anxiously.

Suddenly, the droid chattered with excitement, bringing up a transfer order. Rex scanned the screen, confirming that Wolffe had been routed to Lothal to oversee training. The droid moved to unplug, but Rex stopped him, knowing it was his last chance to find out the truth.

“R7, can you access the security records on Kamino?” Upon receiving an affirmative, he continued with his query. “I need you to search for someone: Captain Jean Shepard. She was stationed on Kamino before the purge. I need to find where she was sent.”

“Captain, we don’t have time for this,” Trace insisted.

“I have to find her," he muttered, clinging to the last threads of hope, despite months of silence and dead ends. "Please."

Trace relented as the plug turned in the socket. The moments ticked, being counted by the creak of Rex's boots as it nervously tapped in the polished duracrete floor, until finally the droid warbled sadly, making his gut sink. It was a possibility he hadn’t wanted to concede, that he had denied as long as he could. But in the face of an official report from Sargeant Grin on the screen before him, signed off with the file closed by Admiral Tarkin himself, he had to accept the truth.

“Display the security footage, please,” he quietly requested.

A small holoprojector glowed on the console, displaying the recording of the events. Shepard stood on a platform in the torrent, turning to face the approaching officer. She was visibly exhausted as, he assumed, she was trying to reason with him as evident by her gestures. The two were locked in a brief standoff, until Grin raised his blaster and fired, leaving her sprawled and vulnerable in her back. Rex watched in horror as his brother walked up to the woman he loved, his betrothed, leveled the blaster at her helmeted face, and fired.

His shoulders slumped, his eyes burned, and his fists clenched as the hologram faded and the projector darkened. It was all his fault. He should have trusted her but in the confusing aftermath of Fives’ death, but at the time he wasn’t strong enough to accept the truth she was trying to tell him. And despite everything, he knew deep down she hadn’t given up and was still fighting to stop what was set to come. Rex’s eyes burned with anger and regret at Sargeant Grin, at the Emperor, but mostly at himself.

Trace placed a hand on his shoulder coaxing him back to the present, “Captain…We have to go.”

“Yeah, let’s get moving,” he bristled and donned the helmet once more, for once thankful for the vision impairing bucket.

They easily made their exit to the hangar, where Rafa was waiting in their borrowed shuttle. Once they were safely in hyperspace, Rex began shucked the TK-Trooper armor at the back of the shuttle, wishing he could throw it out the airlock. As he donned his kit, the weight and feel of each molded piece he put in place gave him a measure of comfort against the pain in his chest. Tentative hands picked up his helmet, studying the exterior for a moment before turning it over. Sitting on the bench, he stared into his bucket at the flimsy picture that had been safely tucked inside.

A shuddering breath escaped his lips as the tingle in his eyes intensified. He didn’t want to fall apart there, mere meters from the Martez sisters, but it was quickly becoming more than he could hold back. Clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back. As he fought back the onslaught of grief, their final conversation played through his mind, if he could even call it a conversation. That day, that wretched day, he balled up all the rage and pain tearing him apart in the chaotic wake of Fives' death and threw it in Shepard’s face, as though it had all been her fault.

What of my duty to the Republic? To my brothers! I am not a broken coward! I would never run away from my duty! I will not abandon my service, my family or my home, like you!

He winced at the memory, opening his eyes. On the periphery, he saw a gray figure hesitating next to him. Quickly wiping his glassy eyes, he looked over at Trace, who slowly sat on the bench next to him. A supportive hand rested on his shoulder, leaning into him slightly for comfort. His head dipped toward hers, grateful for her presence.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“She died fighting for what she believed in, as any good soldier does,” he replied in a whisper. “It’s up to us to continue the fight.”

The words were ones he had spoken for hundreds of brothers before. An epitaph to rationalize the nature of their lives, their servitude to the galaxy. Somehow the words suddenly felt hollow, meaningless. Perhaps they had simply been a delusion to justify his place of leadership in the systemic oppression and dehumanization of himself and his brothers. Even if the words of the Jedi failed to strike a chord, surely his would among his battalion, inspiring them to willingly, if blindly, run down the chutes to their slaughter like livestock.

It suddenly occurred to him that the words themselves, words he had chosen after seeing so many fall during the Battle of Geonosis, were an irony. A chuckle slowly huffed in his chest as he realized he called on his brothers to continue the fight, not finish it. Perhaps part of him knew deep down theirs was a disposable existence, even before the war began. Those who saw the war begin weren’t intended to see it end, much less a Republic victory, despite all they had been conditioned to believe. And Shepard, his beloved Jean, was caught in the crossfire trying to stop it.

[twistedsarchive]

Prologue: Shattered

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog! MINORS BE GONE! If you are under the age of 18 or are not considered a legal adult in your country, do not interact with my blog in any way. If I suspect you are a minor, I will block you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x FemShepard

Clone Effect: Rebels Masterlist

Chapter One: Pursuit

Series Summary: The Republic has fallen and given rise to the Empire. With everything in they fought for destroyed, there’s little left to hope for. But as soldiers who have pledge their lives to protecting the innocent, evil will not stand unopposed.

Chapter Summary: Upon freeing Mandalore from Maul’s wicked grip, Rex and Ahsoka chart a course for Coruscant and, perhaps, victory.

Warnings: No major warnings. Canonical events of Order 66 briefly recounted

Word Count: 1k

It was almost over. Rex could hardly believe it, but it was true. Count Dooku was dead and General Kenobi was hot on the mechanical heels of General Grievous, readying to engage him on Utupau. The 332nd had captured Maul. They had taken him alive no less, and freed Mandalore from his grip and the Sith was ready and willing to talk, to lay bare all the vast details he knew upon the arrival of the Tribunal on Coruscant. In a matter of hours, the war would finally be over. 

As he walked through the bridge alongside Ahsoka, he thought about his fallen brothers. How many had he lost since his life began? Had the Republic kept track? Did that theoretical record reflect their names rather than their numbers? Would the Republic honor their sacrifice and memorialize the brave men who gave their lives in the name of freedom? Or would they be a forgotten casualty, a tool that had served its purpose and waiting to be cast aside or left to decay from disuse? Even if the Senate wouldn't remember them, he was determined to honor his brothers, one way or another.

His thoughts drifted to Shepard. The months of silence had been unbearable, but he was forced to set his worry and longing aside for the sake of his duty. Like a good soldier. He had his orders and she had hers. With the war poised to end, he hoped to make contact with her to apologize, to ask her forgiveness and, if he was lucky, to be able to work through their unresolved fight and pick back up where they left off from the ellipsis in their relationship after Fives died. Maybe General Skywalker would even allow him to go to Kamino to speak to her in person. 

Standing at the windows, shoulder to shoulder with Ahsoka, they watched as the stars became streaks with the activation of the hyperdrive. In a flash, they were underway in the final leg of their long journey. His eyes flicked to her, familiar with the expression of deep thought she wore. It hardly seemed possible the resilient young woman next to him was the same gangly youth that showed up on Christophsis without warning just three years prior and changed everything. Gone was her brash, inexperienced confidence, replaced with the wisdom from many hard lessons. She still had the same spark of mischief in her eyes, but the child, the padawan, was gone.

"Something…on your mind?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"As a Jedi," she answered softly, "we were trained to be keepers of the peace, not soldiers. But all I've been since I was a padawan is a soldier."

"Well, I've known no other way," he began, almost uncertain of his words. “Gives us clones all a mixed feeling about war. Many people wished it never happened, but without it…we clones wouldn't exist."

As he spoke, she turned to him, seeming to find comfort in his words, "Well, then perhaps some good has come from all of it. The Republic couldn't have asked for better soldiers, nor I a better friend."

The sparkle in her eye as she her lips pulled upward into a smile helped put both their uncertainties at ease. Ahsoka raised her right hand to her forehead, giving him protocol and respect as her equal, displaying it in a salute what she had always shown in practice in the field. He returned the gesture, the smile in his face reflexively stiffening from a lifetime of training, though inside he beamed. For better or worse they, and the Republic as a whole, stood at the cusp of a new era. There were wounds to heal, bonds to mend, but as long as they worked together, perhaps they could all prosper. 

An officer approached from the adjoining comm room, "Commander Rex, the latest briefing has come in."

He nodded at the officer and turned to Ahsoka, eyes still smiling, "Want to have a look? It might have an update on General Kenobi's efforts."

There was a moment's hesitation, "You go. I'm sure it's more good news."

With a nod, he followed the officer through the blast door, feeling hopeful. As it slid shut, the holotable illuminated. He expected to see the familiar face of General Windu or Cody, he expected good news, but instead an ominous, hooded figure appeared. His stomach instinctively tensed and all the hairs on his body stood on end against his compression suit. Everything about the mysterious man staring at him with glowing eyes made adrenaline flood his suddenly cold bloodstream. 

But instead of fighting, or even fleeing, Rex stood paralyzed at the holotable. His head was filled with a crescendo of static for a moment before a dense cloud fell over his mind. It felt like an inky anesthetic, as though he was being numbed and put under conscious sedation. He struggled against it, as he had when Ventress tried to invade his mind on Rotta at the start of the war. As he had during the private, unsettling conversation in Chancellor Palpatine’s office before Shepard's return some six rotations prior. 

Shepard!

He fought back against the veil, realizing all at once what was happening, but it was too late. It was what he had refused to hear from Kix as they were on route to Anaxes, stalled by the fear of losing yet another brother to whatever dark forces were at work. What Shepard had tried to tell him, tried to stop it well before any of them were the wiser. She tried to save Fives, knowing he held the truth that could have unraveled the entire plan. Fives…Fives was right.

The mastermind of it all stood glowing before him on the holotable. It was a face he recognized without ever seeing. A name he knew without ever speaking. The specter that haunted his dreams, his brother's dreams, on their never ending mission. His mental strength was fading, his inner voice dwindling as the phantom, their Sith Lord, their master, uttered the single command that wiped away all their individuality, independence, and free will in an instant. As though they never had it at all.

"Execute Order 66."

“Yes, Lord Sideous.”