Dye

Okay so idea for angsty fic with Fiyero actually shooting Glinda in the cornfield. Meanwhile Elphaba doesn’t know that Glinda is hurt and is casting the spell trying to save Fiyero who manages to escape (he’s traumatized). Glinda is declared “dead” becomes a martyr. But, somehow Elphie’s spell affects her and Morrible works some magic that has surprising effects on Glinda

I know this nose art is for the Bad Batch, but I can’t help but imagine another Clone Unit with a stronger claim on the Senator as a mascot. (And how much Anakin would FLIP THE FUCK OUT)

— Morale Booster

“REX!”

… And it looks like the paneling repair will have to wait, as his General’s boots appear next to his head beside the transport’s landing gear. He pushes himself out from under the machine on a dolly, flat on his back.

“Sir?”

“What is THAT?!” his fearless leader yelps, pointing dramatically, emphatically upwards and towards the nose.

He scoots out farther, past General Skywalker’s legs, and props himself up on his elbows to take in the three-quarters-finished pinup Hardcase has been taking such pains with for the last four hours.

“Morale booster, sir. Couldn’t do something clever like the 104th and their Plo’s Bros or anything, so–”

“So you chose SENATOR AMIDALA?!” Did his voice just crack? It did.

He shrugs. “Sure. She’s been through enough hell and high water with us.”

“She’s a SENATOR!”

“And she’s a keen eye with that blaster,” he reasons, jerking his head up to the painting, and the flawlessly detailed replica of the Senator’s favored sidearm, primed to fire and held at a jaunty, confident angle. He even got the chipped paint over the trigger guard right.

“Got the looks for it too!” Hardcase yells down from where he’s shading in a long bare stretch of thigh, pausing to vigorously shake his can of spray paint. “We might finally be able to give the 327th a run for their money, with General Secura and all.”

“GENERAL SECURA is half naked on the nose of a transport?!”

“What? No!” Of course not, that’s just tasteless.

There’s a clatter from up above as Hardcase puts his paints down and leans over the scaffolding, a hand wobbling skeptically. “Well… Technically…”

“She’s in her usual outfit, y’know, with the–” Rex explains, and zig-zags a finger down from his head, mimicking the General’s lekku straps. “–and the leather pants.”

“It’s just a little leg, Anakin, I don’t see what you’re so upset about.”

Oh thank all the stars and little planets. Backup. General Kenobi steps up beside his former Padawan to admire the paint job himself. “Excellent work on her hair, Hardcase,” Kenobi continues, tilting his head.

“Thank you, sir. Run a probe with some white and a little metallic gold through the wet paint, gets it to streak so the shine looks real.”

General Skywalker is starting to do that thing where he puffs up like an angry coppi lizard and splutters furiously while he tries to think of something else to be upset about. He can hear Fives rolling his eyes from the opposite side of the transport. General. Honestly. If you’re trying to keep a relationship secret, openly displaying your klik-wide jealous streak is not how you do it.

“The 212’s is worse, anyway,” Kenobi muses idly, as Hardcase carefully adds the supposedly “very distinctive” freckle high on the Senator’s hip, just below the split in her modified favorite Council dress. Skywalker starts to go wide-eyed at that, because his sabacc face out of genuine combat is complete sleenshit, and startles when his master continues.

“She’s on the 212th transport too?!”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t have duplicates, that defeats the purpose,” Kenobi says, in that too-reasonable tone he takes on when he’s deliberately fucking with his former Padawan.

“'Cept Master Ti,” Echo yells, from somewhere inside the paneling he and Rex had been working on.

“Except Master Ti, yes,” Kenobi agrees, and shrugs. “But that’s to be expected. Rather like how so many people have that arm tattoo of a heart with the ribbon that says ‘Mom’.”

Rex personally knew of at least eight other clones that had that exact tattoo, though the ribbon was usually striped like Master Ti’s headtails, and nods agreeably. That seems to have sufficiently diverted Skywalker, or at least confused him.

“Then how is it worse?” Skywalker asks, a little desperately, then his face lights up completely with slightly malicious anticipation. “Is it the Duchess?!”

Oh boy. Rex looks up at Hardcase, who is biting down on his paint-splattered fist to keep from laughing, as General Kenobi gets that look.

“Certainly not,” Kenobi says sternly, and waits a full beat to drop his bombshell. “It’s me.”

Skywalker just stares.

“Though I’m reasonably certain Duchess Kryze had something to do with it, given the way I’m half falling out of my robes.”

Now he looks vaguely green.

“Or it’s some perverse joke of Master Windu’s. It seems his style. Cody refuses to tell me.”

And before Skywalker can come up with anything else to protest, Kenobi adds:

“Besides, Senator Amidala loves it. Hers, I mean. I haven’t asked her about mine.”

Apparently even Jedi can choke on air when sufficiently surprised. But really, where did he think they’d gotten the preliminary sketches from?

Febuwhump 7- used as an experiment, Rex

He overhears the guards. He’s been here so long they don’t really care about hiding Separatist secrets from him. They know there’s no chance of Rex being rescued, and Rex stopped trying to escape on his own a long time ago.

They say he’s being transferred.

There might be a way to escape if he’s being moved but… what’s the point? It’s been months. Rex would never betray the Republic, hasn’t spilled one secret and never plans to, but the loyalty he has for the Republic is not reciprocated. He didn’t expect it to be. Out of millions of clones, thousands of captains, one captured prisoner is negligible.

He’d hoped his General and Commander would care enough to try and find him. Maybe they had, but it’s not in them to fail and give up. Either way he would be declared KIA by now.

Nobody is looking for him, nobody needs him. All he can do is quietly rot in one prison or another and do his duty not to reveal secrets that are probably outdated.

Rex walks calmly into the transport and is patient for the hours-long journey. He is led into a facility that looks fairly identical to the last. The first difference he notices is the prominent smell of bacta.

His cell is different too. Well, it’s not a cell, really. More of a medical examination room. He grimaces at the straps on the table. The guards shove him onto it, and despite every bone in his body screaming at him to fight back… he lets them strap him down.

“Oh, is it time for my checkup?” he hums sarcastically. “Your healthcare’s more impressive than what the GAR offers!”

He can still move his head, at least, so he looks around the room. There’s a large mirror that can only be a viewing window with one-way glass. His blond curls, having grown out far past regulation, block some of his view as he tries to squint and see if there are any figures on the other side.

The guards leave and the door buzzes loudly as it locks. “Is that really necessary? You think I’m gonna yank off this synthleather and run down the hall to give the guards some exercise?”

Nobody replies. “You Seppies have no sense of humor,” he grumbles.

Speakers in the room’s corners fizzle on. “VOICE ACTIVATION EXPERIMENT,” it announces, loudly. The audio is shrill and grainy, and Rex cringes. He wishes he could cover his ears but, again, his arms are strapped down.

“What? What experiment–?”

“TEST ONE. ANY VOICE, ALL COMMANDS.”

Rex only has to wait in confusion for a second before voices high and low, alien and humanoid, garble together and overwhelm him. They’re saying something about executing orders, numbers. He can already feel a headache setting in from the noise.

Then as soon as it starts, it’s over. “RESULTS: NEGATIVE. AS EXPECTED.”

“What was supposed to happen?” he wonders aloud.

“TEST TWO-ALPHA,” the voice continues. “SEPARATIST OFFICIALS.”

The speakers blast out the same nonsensical phrases. Order Five, Execute Order Thirty Two, Execute Order Sixty Six. Some of the voices are robotic and vocoded like Techno Unioners, one has a distinct arachnid tch-ing. They’re loud, but the experimenters seem no more satisfied. They move on. “TEST TWO-BETA. REPUBLIC OFFICIALS.”

He wonders through the ear-piercing noise how in the Sith Hells they got these voice recordings. Maybe they’re computer generated?

He hears Commander Tano say Execute Order Thirty Seven and a tear slips down his cheek. That’s it, these can’t be real. He wonders why he thinks it would be such a terrible thing for her to say, other than a deep gut feeling.

“TEST THREE,” the voice seems almost excited this time, like it’s really expecting something to happen. “CONFIRMED CODE ENABLERS.”

Rex frowns as he hears a tinny recording of Count Dooku’s unmistakable voice reciting the list of orders. He sits through it an looks expectantly to the ‘mirror’.

But this part of the test apparently isn’t done. He hears Chancellor Palpatine recite the orders. His head feels strangely heavy, his eyes can’t seem to focus, and his veins fill with ice. But when the recording is over he feels more or less the same.

“What… was that? What are you doing to me?”

“WHY DIDN’T IT WO–” the audio cuts off, the experimenter probably realizing he shouldn’t broadcast his apparent failure to his test subject.

Rex waits in silence. His mind hasn’t raced this fast since he was first captured. What are they trying to do?

If he escaped, could he warn the Republic? Save other clones from this… whatever this was? Rex tugs at his restraints.

The door buzzes open again and of all the people in the galaxy it is The Count of Serenno, Count Dooku himself that strides in with a nervous looking Ishi Tib in a labcoat hiding behind his brown-black cape. He stands above Rex, looking down with his face in shadow. His eyes seem to glow.

“My master was clever,” he hums. “False recordings won’t work. But soon we will find ways to get around that particular problem.”

“What do those orders mean?”

Dooku doesn’t answer, only leans down to Rex’s ear. “Might as well get some use out of you. Execute Order Sixty Six.”

CT-7567 stared blankly ahead. “Yes, Sir.”

There are no traitors in sight, but if he ever sees one, he knows exactly what to do.

“Now, little pawn,” Dooku waves a hand in front of him. “Sleep.”

CT-7567 Sleeps as commanded. He does not know for how long.

When he is brought back to consciousness, he is laying on some grassy ground, looking up at a blue sky. A Separatist ship is flying away from him.

“REX!” A strangely familiar voice shouts. He hears someone running towards him, and a traitor kneels beside him.

Sneak peek at the next thing on my to-do list

Shortly after the mission to the Citadel, Rex, Fives, and Jesse stumble across an artifact that permanently changes Rex. With his newfound abilities, he must navigate the war as it draws to a close...

There was a stone in his boot. Rex glared down at his feet as if that would make the stone leave, but it was still irritatingly there. It was small, of course, just barely big enough for him to feel it, but it was right on the arch of his foot, where it was most tender. Chalking up a blister before it even formed, he sighed, readjusting his hold on his blaster pistols. Jesse looked over at him. “Chin up, Captain, just because we haven’t found anything yet doesn’t mean there’s nothing to find.” “I think we’re supposed to want there to be nothing to find,” Fives grumbled, kicking a clump of grass as the walked through the narrow canyon that led out toward the grasslands from the small abandoned settlement the rest of the 501st had set up camp in. “Looking for a Seppie base, remember?” “I remember,” Jesse said, nudging Fives with his elbow, “Just like I remember you leaping at the chance to go exploring.”

“That was before I knew that ‘exploring’ just meant wandering down a straight path,” Fives shot back.

Ordinarily, Rex would have scolded Fives for his tone, but as it was, it had been less than a month since he’d lost his ori’vod, Echo, so he cut him some slack. Gesturing with his pistol, he ushered the other two troopers down the canyon, scanning the walls as he did.

It was only because of that that he noticed the small crack in the wall, just large enough for someone to squeeze through. “Fives, Jesse,” he called, drawing their attention before carefully making his way through the crack.

As the other two followed, he took the opportunity to look around the tunnel the crack had led into. It didn’t look naturally created, the walls rough and uneven in a way that made him think it had been carved out by the local fauna, but the ceilings were tall, stretching above his head and making him feel small. Some sort of bioluminescent fungus grew on the walls, giving the place a dim lighting. Squaring his shoulders, he flicked on his headlamp anyway, not wanting to stumble over anything in the low light.

Fives and Jesse managed to get into the tunnel behind him, and Rex gestured for them to start making their way through the cave. Rex led the way, the others’ headlamps bouncing off the walls as they looked around.

The tunnel meandered for some distance. Right as Rex was about to call a halt so he could finally get the stupid rock out of his boot, they rounded a corner and Rex sucked in a breath. In the middle of the small cavern they found themselves in was what looked like an altar of some sort, lit by sunlight filtering through an overgrown hole in the ceiling.

Floating above the table was something Rex had only seen once before. Jesse seemed to recognize it as well, as he straightened. “Is that a Jedi holocron, sir?”

“It looks like.” Rex glanced around the chamber, noting some smashed pottery in the corners and faded flecks of paint on the walls. “This looks Jedi enough, must have been a meditation spot or something.”

“Should we comm the general, sir?” Fives asked, looking worried. He hadn’t been with the 501st during the original Jedi holocron incident, but he’d heard stories, and Rex thought he was right to be afraid. Force only knew what the Seppies could have done with this if they’d learned it was here.

Rex nodded. “Might as well try. I’ve no clue if the signal will get out, but with the hole in the ceiling, it’s worth a shot.”

Fives nodded and stepped forward, activating his comm. “This is ARC trooper Fives, calling forward camp. Do you read me?” Static over the line, and Fives cursed before trying again.

This time, someone answered. “Fives, we read you,” General Skywalker’s voice sounded tinny and was layered with static, but it was there. “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve, uh, discovered a Jedi artifact in a cave, sir.”

Skywalker sounded surprised. “A what? Nevermind, how do you know it’s Jedi?”

“Well, it’s floating in midair, sir, and I’m not detecting any magnetic field holding it up,” Fives said, a hint of sass in his voice, and Rex, removing his helmet, shot him a look.

It didn’t sound like Skywalker minded. “Okay, okay. Does it look dangerous?”

“No, sir. It’s just floating there.”

Jesse made to touch it, and Rex grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Not till the general says to,” he said in an undertone, and Jesse nodded.

“Bring it back to base,” Skywalker was saying, “But be careful. There’s no telling how long it’s been there, and what defenses it could have. I don’t want you boys getting buried if the cave collapses.”

“Copy that, sir. Fives out.” Fives cut the connection and turned to Rex. “Well, sir, I think it’d be best we got out of here.”

Rex nodded, then reached out. What happened next happened in a blur. His fingertips brushed the holocron, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, right before pain like he’d never known ripped through him. He was vaguely aware that he screamed, but he wasn’t aware enough to stop himself. Lightning was ripping his cells apart, searing his DNA, and stitching the cells back together.

He heard more than saw the holocron drop and the boys run forward. The next thing he knew, Jesse’s familiar helmet was in his face, and his frantic voice was calling for Rex to respond, but before Rex could open his mouth, a fog rapidly crawled into his vision, thickening before finally everything went black.

Based off a little line in time travel fic where Elphie introduces Glinda to pecan pie! (and bc @c-rose2081 said Oz could possibly have invented epinephrine🤷🏻‍♀️)

///

“Do you like it?” Elphaba asks, watching carefully to make sure Galinda is actually eating. She figured appealing to the girl’s sweet tooth would do the trick- Galinda nods happily and digs in for another bite. 

“It’s great!” she mumbles around a mouthful. Galinda blushes at her own excitement, and Elphaba can’t stop the fond grin from spreading across her face. Cute.

Galinda only eats about half her actual slice, but she keeps pulling the pecans out from the center to nibble on, so Elphaba will take it as a win. Nuts are relatively healthy, right? Even coated in sugar? 

“I’ve never tasted anything like this before,” Galinda says, licking her lips happily. She coughs lightly and clears her throat. “It’s tingly.”

Elphaba’s brow scrunches in confusion. “Tingly?” She’s eaten pecan pie for years and never once would she describe it as ‘tingly.’

Galinda coughs again, turning her head away to tuck her mouth in her elbow. She nods, waving her fork in the air as if trying to find the right words. “Yeah. It’s sorta…fizzy.”

What? 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Elphaba says, laughing lightly. Leave it to Galinda to totally stump her like that. The blonde had a habit of thinking so far outside the box that Elphaba could barely keep up with the logic. 

Galinda rolls her eyes, clearing her throat again and setting her fork down. She slides the plate toward Elphaba. “You try and describe it then. Tingly is the best I’ve got.”

Elphaba dutifully picks up the fork and takes a bite. She’s had pecan pie several times before, of course, but maybe the cooks at Shiz made it differently or added a special ingredient. Some spices like cinnamon or such could…almost be described as ‘tingly’ if you weren’t used to them. 

Galinda has to turn her head away to cough again, this time nearly doubling over from the effort. Elphaba frowns at her as she chews and swallows quickly. The pie tastes totally normal, but Galinda is starting to worry her. 

“Wrong pipe?” Elphaba asks cautiously. Galinda opens her mouth to say something but gets caught in another round of coughs that turns her face red with effort. She groans lightly, rubbing at her throat. 

“Sorry,” she croaks. “Yeah, probably just went down wrong.” She nods toward the pie on the plate in an effort to distract from the way she’s got tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. 

“What did it taste like to you?”

Elphaba shrugs, not really interested in the pie anymore. Galinda’s face is growing paler by the second and there’s sweat starting to bead on her temple. She clears her throat again and her next few breaths are slightly wheezy. 

“It just tasted like nuts to me,” Elphaba says dismissively. “Are you okay?”

Galinda freezes, staring at her with wide eyes. “Nuts?” she asks. 

“Um, yeah, the pecans. Seriously, Galinda, are you alright?”

Galinda takes in a few shaky gasps, hands starting to tremble as she rubs her throat again. She blinks several times in quick succession as her gaze falls to the pie. “Oh,” she whispers, swallowing hard. 

“I think I’m allergic to nuts.”

Whumptober Day 7: The Way You Shake And Shiver

Prompt: Shaking Hands & Silent Panic Attack

Warning: Mentions of Suicide

Summary: Rex isn't doing so great when they're finally on their way back to 000 from Umbara...

[Sometimes in moments of weakness we turn to old coping mechanisms. Whether that's a good thing or not is up for debate... Sometimes it makes it easier to lie to yourself that something broken can still be fixed.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Before Fox had given him his name, Rex had made a list of options just like every other cadet in his age group. It was almost a tradition for most young clones who still only had their numbers. The task of compiling potential names that may one day suit them in some way, shape, or form.

None of the ones he'd considered had ever stuck.

He'd been rather unsure of himself (the sole golden haired child among a sea of dark curls), often made to hide behind his batchmates. Keeli and Jek had both found their names quickly, and they'd been quite indecisive themselves. But they'd never been as nervous as he had been, so finding something to claim as theirs wasn't hard for them in the slightest.

They knew who they were.

Rex thought he knew who he was. A king with a crown of gold growing naturally upon his skull. A fellow misfit among the CCs that had adopted him. Fitting of a title that had his ori'vod beaming with pride. Fox had made him believe he was a leader.

Fox was a very good liar.

The trip back to Coruscant is a slow one. Umbara long gone from their radar, but still closer than home. Its darkness following the vode well into the flight. The hollowness behind their eyes... It makes his stomach twist and his heart hammer in his chest cavity like there's a parade in town. For once in his life a campaign has left Rex unable to think.

Or rather, unable to process the sheer horror of what he had witnessed. What he had let happen. What he had done.

Little Force Gods what had he done?

So many brothers dead. So many brothers left for dead. So many more dying inside.

He swallows thickly around the lump forming in his throat, and stares ahead unblinkingly. Watching the blue-tinted lines of hyperspace zip by as he considers what's to come, while a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Keeli whispers for him to take deep breaths, to start counting.

If he counts it'll help ground him. But does he want to stay grounded? When there is too much going on right now?

Three troopers have eaten their own blasters before departure from Umbara. The death tool rising steadily. Many more might follow. Will follow. The guilt is killing them all, and he doesn't know how to help.

They should be incapable of breaking. Should be impervious to diseases of the brain. But Krell has left an infectious mind. One that makes it hard for Rex to breathe even in the safety of this ship.

His eyes sting, his chest hurts, his heart is breaking into a million pieces, and there's a good chance he might throw up.

His hands are shaking. They shook back on Umbara too.

Dogma's hadn't.

He comes back to in the refresher. Jesse and Fives are at his sides. They look shaken and tired, and a little of something else Rex can't identify right now.

Angry? Disappointed?

Disgusted with their oh so great captain who couldn't even take the shot himself? Who'd let so many brothers die needlessly when he could have acted immediately and avoided disaster?

The thought makes him vomit up more bile. Salty shame runs down his face, snot bubbles up in his nostrils, foamy sick lands in the toilet. Rough but gentle hands rub at the small of his back. He knows whatever relationship he had with both Jesse and Fives is strained now. Justifiably so. But they still have his back. They're holding him through a panic attack.

He counts each circle, each finger on his back. Then counts the murmurs he can hear. Then the instances where he hears Kix at the door, checking up on them. Making sure he's not going to eat his blaster like the others who just couldn't bare the guilt anymore.

Counting helps. It helped back when he was a cadet. It still does now.

He can't for the life of him recall how many names he'd compiled before he'd been given his own. Maybe someone else knew. Rex doesn't think he knows anything anymore. But he has to move on, regardless of what happened on Umbara.

He had to believe in the cause.

Hi! I'm sorta new to tumblr, so I hope I'm doing this right. Can I get a 'whatever' sickness prompt with Rex from tcw?

You did it just right! One story with Rex reluctantly accepting help coming right up.

Rex is an incredibly stubborn clone. He can ignore his own health in great extremes. But there is one symptom Rex cannot ignore.

Barfing.

Rex cannot handle vomit. Not when his brothers do it, not when he does it, not even when an animal does it. So when Kix normally has to drag Rex to the med bay, if the good Captain throws up he will show up of his own free will.

As he has this morning.

Kix gives him a wry smile. “I’ll get you a disposal unit, sir.”

Rex eyes the door mournfully, debating whether or not he can ride this one out on his own. Especially when he catches a whiff of the other unfortunate souls in med bay.

“I’ll give you a private room,” Kix adds.

Rex reluctantly surrendered to Kix’s tender care. But that does not mean Rex’s reluctance is over. Oh no, getting him in the med bay is only the first step in getting him to accept help. Rex was a self-sacrificing dikut, and since he was in a private room, Kix couldn’t see when he was getting queasy and needed another hypo.

True to form, when Kix comes to check on him, the captain is laying flat on his back. On the floor. He’d thrown up, tried to get a glass of water to rinse his mouth out, gotten extremely dizzy, ended up on the floor, and hadn’t been able to get up again.

Kix sighed. “This is what the call button is for, Rex.” He pressed it into Rex’s hand. “Use it.”

When Rex did use the call button, it was for a glass of water to rinse out his mouth and for Kix to bring him a new disposal unit.

Kix rolled his eyes. “Rex, you do not have to suffer in silence. If you even think you might vomit, call me. We have medicine to prevent that.”

Rex remained silent, further proof of his reluctance to show “weakness”.

Kix glared at him and Rex opened his mouth.

Kix didn’t let him speak. “The men don’t need me more. They’re getting better because they actually tell me all their symptoms.”

Kix stared pointedly while Rex desperately tried to avoid eye contact. At last, Rex cracked.

“Well, my nose has been a bit runny and my throat’s been sore this last week. My whole body ached, but I thought that was just the campaign. And last night I was freezing, so I might have a little fever.”

“39.5 celsius,” Kix corrected as he stood up. “You have Puffer Pig Flu, and if you’d come when your symptoms started, you would not be currently tossing your rations.”

“Thank you, Kix.”

Kix smiled. “Your welcome, ori’vod. Next time just let me help you sooner, okay?”

Rex nodded like a good little patient and Kix snorted. Like Rex was ever going to be anything but reluctant and stubborn about accepting help.

Hnnnng I told myself I'd restrain myself, bit I can't XD Can you do Oh No or Double Trouble for Rex XD I know those were in my ehhh 'list' XD

Thanks for the prompt! This is the last of these I’ll be doing, so please don’t send any more requests in! I got way more than I expected to get, which isn’t a bad thing at all and I’m super grateful for (and surprised by) all the requests I got, but now my brain is like “why are you doing this to me.” Thank y’all!

Double trouble— character is sick and injured

Rex hadn’t meant to let the cut on his arm go untreated for as long as he did. It was difficult to get things treated in the midst of endless battle after endless battle, and Rex hadn’t had time to go to any of the medics to get it looked at. It was a pretty long gash, but not very deep, so Rex figured it would probably be fine.

He didn’t really like the way that it was getting red around the edges and was hot to the touch, though. That didn’t really bode well, but it probably was fine for a little while longer. He’d get it looked at after this next battle. Ignoring the way his arm twinged with every movement and the waves of nausea that coursed through him with every step, he continued on with his duties and led the men from the very front as he always did, General Skywalker by his side.

Getting slammed against a wall and then falling off a short ledge in the midst of battle certainly hadn’t been in his plans for the battle, but it happened nonetheless. He heard someone yelling his name and jumping down into the small crevice he’d found himself in, but he was too busy blinking back stars and ignoring the way his arm was screaming at him to pay attention to who it was. Now his head hurt a lot, and he realized that his helmet had gotten knocked off at some point during that whole ordeal. Opening his eyes ever so slightly, he found himself looking up at Anakin’s worried face.

“Go back to the men, sir, I’ll be fine,” Rex managed. His stomach decided then was the time to do some flips, and he barely managed to roll over in time to throw up. His arm screamed in protest, and one of his ankles felt like it was twisted, if not worse, and he was somehow both cold and hot at once, but he’d be fine.

“Sith hells, Rex, you’re in rough shape,” Anakin said, obviously ignoring the fact that Rex had told him to leave.

“Sir, the men—“ Rex began as he rolled back over onto his back (with a little help from Anakin, although he didn’t really register that fact).

“Will be fine with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in the lead. I’ll help take you back to camp and to the medics, and help them with anyone who got injured along the way, okay? There’s no way you’ll ever make it there on your own,” Anakin said, holding out a hand for Rex to take. Rex begrudgingly took it, but realized a moment too late that it was the wrong arm. He bit back a scream when Anakin pulled him up, causing Anakin to look at him in concern.

“What all’s hurt?” Anakin asked, using the force to call Rex’s helmet to him.

“Ankle, arm, head, nausea,” Rex muttered, “Not all of that’s new.” Anakin lifted an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on anything, instead using his real hand to feel Rex’s forehead.

“And you’ve got a fever, Rex!” Anakin exclaimed, “Yeah, no way are you going back to that battle.”

Rex merely grunted in response. Anakin warned him that they were about to jump out of the little crevice they were in. Rex nodded, but as soon as they lifted up and landed, he nearly threw up again. There was a rushing behind his ears, and he gasped as pain overtook him. He could vaguely hear Anakin talking to him before he passed out.

Rex woke up to a very unhappy Kix standing by his bed, tapping this foot and looking at Rex expectantly.
“Why, pray tell, did you not get that cut on your arm treated when it happened?” Kix demanded.

“Let a guy wake up first, Kix,” Rex muttered, gingerly sitting up in his bed, grimacing when his arm flared a little, along with the way his ankle protested at the movement..

“It got infected. Do you know how difficult it is for things to get infected with all the medical technology we have? If you’d taken 5 minutes to come get it looked at, it would’ve been fine, and I wouldn’t have had to fight for your life over something that was entirely avoidable,” Kix scolded, “Infections are deadly if they aren’t treated, Rex. If you hadn’t been injured out in the field today, by the time you came to finally get it checked, it may have been too late. We might have had to amputate your arm.”

Rex paled at the realization, eyes going wide. He really hadn’t thought it was that serious, but he certainly wasn’t the medic in the room.

Kix sighed and smiled at him kindly, “I’m just worried, is all, captain. I don’t mean to sound cruel. Just stating the facts. You’ve gotta take better care of yourself.”

Rex nodded, “Sorry, Kix. I won’t let that happen again.”

Kix smiled at him again, “I know you won’t. Now, General Skywalker was worried sick about you and I’m sure he’ll want to talk for a little bit. Should I let him in now, or let you sleep a little longer?”

Rex paused and sighed, “I suppose let him in now.” Kix went to go fetch the general, leaving a glass of water by Rex’s bedside.

Anakin came in not long after, going straight to Rex’s bed.

“I’m glad to see you looking much more… alive,” Anakin said as he sat down, “You passed out after I jumped out of that crevice. I had to carry you the whole way back— you are heavy!”

“Most of that’s the armor, probably. Adds about 70 pounds or so,” Rex said with a smirk, “But sorry about that, sir. You shouldn’t have had to leave the battle field because of one man.”

“When will you get it through that head of yours that I do that because I care about you guys? I would’ve done it for any of you. After I got you back here, I went back and helped with some of the other injured,” Anakin said, stroking his chin thoughtfully in a way that was reminiscent of General Kenobi, “We Jedi should do that more often.”

“I’m sure it would mean a lot to the men if you did,” Rex replied, “It’s not a horrible idea.”
“Ah, that’s basically saying ‘I love that idea’ in Rex-speech, so I’ll take it. I’m gonna go check on some of the other men— just try and take better care of yourself next time, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t with me. Probably go insane,” Anakin said, smiling and patting Rex’s shoulder as he drifted off to the next patient. Rex settled into his bed with a smile and slipped back into an easy slumber.

Many years later, after the Battle of Endor was won, Rex would find out from a certain blond-haired Jedi exactly what Anakin would do when Rex wasn’t with him.

I just thought of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad au where during Umbara it’s Rex that’s injured and he’s begging Kix to leave him behind so Kix can keep outrunning the tanks. And Kix still tells Rex he sounds like General Krell but he’s more frustrated and afraid than angry. Kix manages to group Rex with the rest of the wounded and Rex orders Kix to leave them behind and initially Kix is like no Fucking way I’m leaving you all out here but Rex reasons with him that he’s the only medic with the company right now and he had to keep moving with the group and Rex would keep an eye on and defend the rest of the wounded. At this point Kix knows he’s right so he leaves with them with a bunch of supplies and keeps going with Torrent. At the end of the battle when their recovering everyone’s like oh Kriff where’s Rex?! Did we loose him?! Is he dead?! And Kix speaks up and tells them he’s with the wounded, which spurts Fives and company to try and go back and look for them but in the name of progress and sacrifice Krell forbids it. He temporarily promotes Jesse to captain because i think at the time he was Rex’s lieutenant but mostly because Krell liked Jesse’s attitude more than he liked Five’s. The rest of the arc continues the way it originally did but with Jesse and fives at the lead. Meanwhile, Rex and like 25 other troops are lost in a foreign environment in the center of hostile territory on a planet far from any republic system, dwindling rations and medical supplies trying their best to live off the land for weeks. Rex had found a cave for the men to hide out in and made a camp there. Since he’s the captain and one of the least injured he goes out trying to locate and contact the gar while finding food and supplies. Between encounters with natural predators and Umbaran squads he always comes back more injured than he left. At this time Anakin gets back and he’s also like umm where’s Rex?? When the 501st tells him what happened he’s pissed and immediately goes out into the jungle to find Rex. And he does, just in time too because Rex had gotten his legs caught in a trap and was too injured to walk or fight and was surrounded by enemy Umbarans. Rex and the others wounded are rescued and get shipped of to a medical station for a while. When they get back hella comfort ensues and torrent is never letting Rex out of their sight again. Over the next few months however it’s clear that Rex has developed a significant amount of trauma and ptsd from the experience and is finding it hard to integrate back into and function within the gar.

Snoozeville with rex maybe?

I’ve never written for Rebels Era Rex and I thought that I might give it a try. I hope you don’t mind! Rexsoka shippers DNI, this is purely platonic.

Snoozeville— character falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed

Rex was sitting in the common room of the Ghost after a supply run. Surprisingly enough, this one had actually gone off without a hitch (most likely because Ahsoka had decided to come with them for whatever reason), and they were able to get in and out of the planet quickly. Said planet, however, had been rather cold and damp and that did not make for a good experience.

Rex was well aware of the fact that he’d come down with a cold after being on that planet, if the pressure in his head and the incessant runny nose that was plaguing him were any indication. He really didn’t want to admit that he was sick, though, because he was a clone who had been raised on a planet where it was cold and wet constantly, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be and his immune system had permanently been compromised by the Blue Shadow Virus. However, he’d mellowed down since his days as a hot-headed captain and would admit his illness if anyone came and asked him outright… if not, then he’d go about his business like nothing happened.

He sighed to himself, as no one was in the common room with him, the rest of them elsewhere in the ship. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. It was the middle of the day cycle, according to the chrono on the wall, and he refused to go to sleep any earlier than necessary, no matter how tempting a nap was at the moment. He knew it would probably make him feel better, but… he didn’t want to admit it. He supposed some part of him was still that stubborn captain.

Ahsoka made her way into the room and slid onto the bench next to him, regarding him carefully.

“Rexter, you aren’t looking too hot,” she stated bluntly.

“Yeah, must’ve caught a cold on that planet,” Rex replied, sniffling as if to prove his point. He grimaced at the pressure in his head and sighed yet again.

“Wow, you’re openly admitting you’re sick? Because I distinctly remember multiple occasions where you refused to admit you were sick and then made yourself sicker as a result,” Ahsoka said, lifting a brow marking at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve gone soft in my old age,” Rex said, rolling his eyes at her as she giggled. He then yawned and suppressed an involuntary shiver as he felt a fever taking hold.

Ahsoka immediately grew concerned, “Oh, let me go get you some medicine and a blanket, and you can take a nap right here if you want to!”

Rex shook his head vehemently, “No, I don’t want to go to sleep right now. It’s the middle of the day.”

“So? Naps are one of the best things that have ever been invented. I used to nap all the time when I was a Padawan,” Ahsoka said, moving to stand up.

“Well, we clones were engineered to not need naps. I shouldn’t need one. I can last without one,” Rex said stubbornly, refusing to make eye contact with her.

Ahsoka sighed and settled back into her seat, laying a reassuring hand on Rex’s shoulder, “Rex, that may have been true when you were younger, but like it or not, you’ve aged a little and things like recovering from sickness are going to take a little more effort.”

Rex frowned and stared at the table in front of them. Ahsoka looked like she was going to say more, but Rex ruined the moment with a loud sneeze.

Ahsoka chuckled warmly, “At least let me get you some medicine and a blanket. You don’t have to fall asleep if you don’t want to.” Rex nodded. Ahsoka patted his shoulder and got up to get the supplies.

She returned only a few minutes later with medicine, a bottle of water, and a blanket, just as promised. After ensuring Rex took the medicine she provided him with, she sat down next to him and handed him the blanket, which he begrudgingly wrapped around himself.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, only interrupted by Rex’s occasional sniffle or stifled cough.

Ahsoka regarded him carefully in that time, and Rex was all too aware of her gaze on him.

“What?” He asked defensively.

“What’s really bothering you, Rex?” Ahsoka asked.

Rex frowned and shook his head, “It’s just… Ahsoka, I’m younger than you. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have gray hair already and wake up with every single one of my joints aching. I shouldn’t fall sick so easily and it shouldn’t take so much for me to get back on my feet.”

“Oh, Rex,” Ahsoka said, gently shushing him, “I know. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Rex agreed, leaning against Ahsoka and closing his eyes, “Why did I have to be one of the last clones? All by myself?”

“I don’t know, Rex, but I do know that I and everyone on this ship are glad to have you by our sides, aged or not. And you’re not alone, Rex. You have me and you always will,” Ahsoka replied, adjusting the way that she was sitting so that Rex could be more comfortable.

Rex grumbled but didn’t respond, the lure of sleep calling his name. He fell asleep sitting in that exact position, head resting on Ahsoka’s shoulder. Ahsoka put a comforting arm around his shoulders and sighed, raging at the universe that had been so cruel to clones and had cast them such an unlucky lot at life. Truly, she didn’t know whether Rex was lucky or unlucky to live as long as he had, and she wasn’t sure that either of them wanted to know the answer to that.

Some of the other Ghost crew members wandered in at different points, but they were all shushed pretty quickly upon seeing Rex resting on Ahsoka as he was (her fierce glare towards Ezra when he’d been about to yell at Zeb had certainly helped things, as well). Eventually, she fell asleep in her seat as well, sitting with her fellow survivor and brother.