Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

“I’m not technically on leave.” Rex says, shifting uncontrollably on his feet, “Im just waiting for Anakin to return from his meeting with the Chancellor.”

“You totally have time to hang out with us then!” Cordé replies excitedly, and something about her brilliant smile makes him slightly nervous.

“Well-“ Rex begins, but Sabé cuts him off.

“Oh come on, live a little,” Sabé says, pushing his shoulder, “A little rebellion is good for you, healthy even.” Her tone is sincere, but there’s a wicked grin across her face and a glint in her eyes.

“Fine.” Rex caves, “but if General Skywalker comms me, we leave right away.”

“How about right away-ish?”

-The Right Hands of Amidala, a sequel to Right Hand of the Republic

I’m finally working on this again bc I’ve got too many good Rex jokes and I’m giving them to Sabé-

Whumpril Day 22: "Let's Get You Cleaned Up."

Fandom: Star Wars The Clone Wars

Note: Ah okay so I did my best. Enjoy.

Warning: Minor Character Death

Summary: Rex holds one of his men while they die.

  Rex hated losing his brothers. However it was part of the war. It was unfair and cruel but that's why they were made right? To fight and die for the Republic?

    The Captain sat with one of his men for the last time. The shiny didn't even have a name yet. However the man's armor was no longer shiny, now it was covered in blood. The blasters and explosions were deafening.

    "Captain?" the unnamed clone coughed.

    Rex looked down at his feet. There laid one of his men. "Soldier." Rex dropped to the ground. He removed his helmet to get a better look at the man. "Medic!" he yelled. But the request went unheard.

    "Captain, I'm scared."

    "You'll be okay."

    The clone slightly sat up and grabbed Rex by his head, his thumb right before the others ear. "Is this it?"

    "No, no it's not. You'll be okay." Tears gathered in his eyes.

    Without another word his brother died. His hand slipped from Rex's face, leaving a blood trail. There was nothing he could do. He never got used to it; the blood, the noise, the death. It felt surreal. Rex shakily placed his helmet back on and continued to fight.

Later he would greet Anakin at the end of the fight. The only blood on Rex was his face and hands so the general had no idea anything was wrong. The soldiers helped Kix wherever they could.

Rex took his helmet off for the same reason he had taken off before. Anakin took note and waited till time was right. He walked over to him and said, "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Huh?" Rex looked at him, "no, I'm okay. I'll take care of it."

"No come here." Anakin grabbed his Captain's hand and went to find a damp cloth. Rex protested but gave up as Anakin rested the cloth of his skin. It felt nice.

The Jedi gently held his brother's face still with his other hand. He ran the cloth over the blood and lightly scrubbed it.

Rex just sort of stared at Anakin. It felt nice to have someone take care of him for once. He was so used to taking care of everyone else that this took him by surprise.

"How's that? It stained, there's nothing I could do about that, sorry." Without another word Anakin grabbed Rex's gloves and cleaned his hands next. Then he switched the clones for his. "There. Get some rest, you need it."

Everything together made Rex tear up. It was nice to feel loved and taken care of.

For the bad things happen bingo, I Will Punish You For Your Friend's Failure, with Obi Wan and Rex during the Zygeria arc with Rex being punished by the slavers.

Oooooh, happy evil brain twinkles.

TW for blood, child death, and mildly graphic torture. No specifics because spoilers but do be cautious.

•••

There is an enemy, and it is within, the Jedi taught.

You will encounter foes of all forms in your years as a Jedi. There will be cruel tyrants and selfish politicians, ruthless criminals and violent terrorists. Possessive lovers, radical reformists, slavers and desperate people willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what matters to them. And then the next thing, and the next.

But these are not the enemy.

The Jedi have only two natural enemies.

The Sith have been extinguished from the galaxy, lost to ruin. What the Jedi did not destroy, the Sith themselves did, locked in the raw emotion of the Dark Side, turning on one another.

And the Jedi are left with the true enemy.

You are the enemy, the Masters warned. Your weaknesses are your real enemy.

All obstacles can be overcome as long as you master yourself.

Fear will lead you astray. Push through it.

Anger will corrupt you. Abandon it.

Envy will poison you. Purge it.

Grief will break you. Overcome it.

And if you fall, you will fall as yourself, at peace. A true Jedi perishes for the right reasons, where not even self-possession could stop the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The enemy is within.

•

Obi-Wan Kenobi took a deep, steadying breath. The enemy is within, he reminded himself. My fear is the enemy. These people cannot destroy me.

The broken wrist, clumsily bandaged and still forced to work, whispers that otherwise. The bruises along his spine groan in misery. There was a cut on his upper lip that had bled and dried in his beard and lips. Someone had driven the handle of a whip into the muscles of his left leg, and it could not bear his weight.

He opened his eyes just in time to receive a stunning blow across the face.

Despite the fancies of holodramas, a strike to the face is nothing to brush aside.

The Jedi reeled, his head exploding, his face stinging. White light erupted behind his eyes and his nose burned as if he’d dived too deep into water.

“Who is your Master?” a voice demanded.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping for air. His entire head throbbed; he was on his knees but his back had arched back so far his head was a foot from the floor. Wincing, he dragged himself back up and stared passively into the snarling Zyggerian’s eyes. “I am.”

A roar of discontent. “Wrong!”

The hand came back, but this time it closed around his throat.

•

Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders, one hand moving upwards to press against the side of his Padawan’s neck.

“You are stronger than your fear,” he said. “Because your fear is only part of you. Your strengths outnumber your fear, Obi-Wan.”

Behind the boy’s young eyes, though - flashes of remembered horror, children dead in the streets of Melida/Daan and the screaming sound a blaster bolt made as it grazed close, so close, to his ear - and hit another boy instead —

Obi-Wan gasped as if drowning, his mind convinced that he was not getting enough oxygen.

Fear was going to kill him.

Fear was the enemy.

“Oh, Padawan,” sighed his Master. And then the hands left his neck and his shoulder, leaving Obi-Wan bereft, plunged into ice cold waters of terror and trauma, his failures haunting him like the ghost of Cerasi.

•

Obi-Wan choked, bucking involuntarily as the meaty hand clenched around his throat, crushing his air pipe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Still. What did it matter, if this monstrous slaver killed him in a fit of rage? Obi-Wan was more than this man and his pride, his greed, his disregard for life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

His body’s automatic response to being abused and killed was nothing.

He was more than his fear.

“Damn Jedi!”

The hand released him, and the red-haired General slumped to the floor, unable to stop his forehead from colliding painfully with the uneven slag flooring. More blood. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it dripping down his forehead.

“Very well,” the same voice continued. “The punishment must suit the prisoner, in some cases. How lucky of you. So special.”

They cannot hurt me, Obi-Wan reminded himself. My body is not my soul. I am more than my fear.

And then two more slavers entered the room at a summons, dragging a struggling figure between them.

Rex.

Obi-Wan’s fear spiked so sharply he felt his chest stab with physical pain.

No, he told himself. No. Fight it. Fight it—

The Zyggerian behind him sensed his rising emotion and grabbed him roughly, one hand on the thick collar around the Jedi’s throat, and the other dug painfully into his hair.

•

Obi-Wan shuddered.

A bomb - Twela, Bruin, Conno, Toorun, and others went flying, flailing helplessly in the air.

Toorun rolled on his side and got back up.

Conno collided with a vehicle and lay still.

Bruin landed on his feet and stood up, grinning in shocked relief, and then dropped with a bullet in his head. Blood spattered stone.

Twela landed on a pile of rubble.

When Obi-Wan found her, she had been lying there for an hour while the battle wore on, a rebar shoved through her stomach.

It took her two days to die—

Cerasi, falling into his arms. Gasping. Blood everywhere. Her father screaming. Blood on Obi-Wan’s hands—

Nield, his friend, telling him he didn’t belong - kicking him out of the camp to die alone - blaming Obi-Wan, rightfully, for the death of Cerasi and the peace she had helped create—

But as quickly as they had been taken away, the warm and solid hands of Qui-Gon Jinn were there again, this time on his back. Pulling him. Tightening around him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping and shaking, pressed into a warm embrace while his Master rocked him gently, whispering encouragement into his hair.

It was good to be held.

•

Obi-Wan twisted, struggling in near-panic to get away from the arms restraining him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop!”

They did not stop.

The Zyggerians had been on Rex for over two hours, holding him down, methodically slicing the soles of his feet, throwing their fists into his abdomen and face and throat, slamming his head against the unforgiving ground.

The Captain was a mess; bruised and bloodied, involuntary tears making his damaged face glisten.

Rex had finally started to scream five minutes ago, and still they would not stop—

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” Obi-Wan shouted, his bound hands clenched so tightly that his palms were torn and bleeding. “Stop!”

“And now the bird sings,” the slave master crowed, laughing down at him. “So high and mighty, Jedi?”

“Leave him alone!” Obi-Wan demanded.

The slaver’s face darkened.

Two things happened at almost the same moment.

A knife was drawn from seemingly thin air and without hesitation or fanfare was plunged into Rex’s thigh; the Captain screamed again, writhing.

A button was pressed, and the collar around Obi-Wan’s neck blazed with electricity that made him convulse, blinded, agonized.

“You don’t give the orders here,” the master snarled. “Haven’t you learned? You’re not in control here!”

•

“You are in control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, following the still too-prominent line of his spine. Up and down, up and down.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “I’m a failure.”

“You haven’t failed until you’ve let yourself down and decided not to get up again,” his Master replied firmly. “You are master of yourself, Obi-Wan, and therefore master of the situation. You can rise above. Even if you need help to do it. You are not a slave to fear.”

•

“Slaves are not masters,” the Zyggerian bellowed, and Rex screamed again.

Obi-Wan shuddered and twitched on the floor; he felt filthy, ragged, used. Now useless.

“You don’t make the rules!” A kick to the abdomen that deprived him of air. Once again suffocating. Drowning.

All he could see was the bloodstained floor. All he could hear was the voice, and Rex screaming through gritted teeth.

“Every time you cross me, I’ll punish your freakish friend. And anyone else that crosses your path. I! Am! In! Control! Here!” Each of the final words was delivered with a sharp jerk on the chain that had been attached to the collar.

Obi-Wan choked and wheezed.

Pain.

Terror.

Helpless.

I can’t —

“Who is your Master?”

“You are,” Obi-Wan told Fear, eyes glazed, blood spattered across his vision. Maybe permanently. Like a brand. Like Cerasi’s lifeblood on his shaking hands.

“Who is your Master?” the slaver asked again.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly upwards.

Fear looked back at him. Outside him. Inside him. Triumphant.

“You are,” whispered the Jedi, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He slumped to the floor.

Rex’s screams faded as the punishment abruptly ceased; the Clone lay on the stone floor, limp and in terrible pain, staring with abject fear in his eyes at the fallen Jedi.

His utter relief that the pain was over, that they had taken their hideous hands off of him, was warring with his worry.

And his growing terror.

If even General Kenobi could be controlled...

“A good start,” the slave master said thoughtfully, trodding deliberately on Obi-Wan’s damaged foot. “And I was told Jedi did not feel fear.”

•••

Curses, Cocoons and Clones: part 5

When everyone woke up they starting to process of packing and heading to the ship so they can leave this god forsaken planet.

Poor Rex and Fives ended up in the pockets of Cody after a long argument of how to transport them. Rex was grateful that they were in separate pockets. The jostling bumped caused him to hit his antenna which sent bursts of nausea and pain through his head.

The mud leftover from the rain wasn’t helpful to their travel. Many of the men slipped, much to their dismay. Ahsoka got one of her boots suck and had to walk the rest of the way with her boot filled with mud.

When they got to the city everyone was tired and hungry. The ship was in the heart of the city. The smell of food that floated in the air made Fives’s mouth water. In vaguely Fives could hear someone mentioned getting food for the rest of them and he agreed.

He was hungry, tired and sore. It was getting to the point the cotton that was left in Cody’s pocket for lighting fires was looking appetizing.

Fives reached out and picked a piece of the cotton. He was so hungry-

Rex finally noticed on what he was doing “Wh- Fives what are-“

Too late, he had eaten half the cotton piece that was in the pocket. Which is seriously impressive since it was bigger then his current size.

“Did-did you just eat half of the cotton”

“….no….”

“I’m calling Kix.”

Several hours later after checking Fives for potential food poisoning. Kix concluded that their diet had changed in the process of transforming and allowed him to finish eating some of the cotton with some moderation. The rest of the crew went to get some clean up. General Kenobi went to get some local food for the rest of them. Rex refused to try to eat the cotton and waited for the food to arrive despite the rumbling that Fives could hear.

The food, when the general came back was flavorful and full of spices. Fives even with the food he already ate chowed down. Rex ate even more with the rice and mild sauce being his favorite. Anakin folded up some bread and put some meat and rice just for them. Kix was careful to see what they had in case it upset their bodies just in case.

When the meal was almost finished, Kix and Jessie bickered over who gets the last piece of flatbread. Fives didn’t have the heart to tell them that Cody and Ahsoka was enjoying it watching them fight.

Fives and Rex where sitting on the edge of the table quietly watching the others. The size difference was….unnerving. Fives hoped that a night’s sleep would help before his emotions start get the better of him.

…………….

Hello!

Uhhhhhh happy mermay? I started this part along with Maelstrom last week cause I forgot it was going to be mermay on the day I planned to post. So I had more done with this rather then Maelstrom for mermay…. So here’s moth au instead!

“ c'mere. let me give you a hug. “ with Kix and Rex maybe, please?

Thanks for asking, anon! The ending references my fic Golden Heart because I can’t resist an opportunity to reference it :)

——————

Kix stood outside Rex’s quarters, staring at the door as though it had done something to offend him. He was hesitant to knock on the door, and he’d never been hesitant before, but…

But, after Umbara, Kix was hesitant to approach anyone, especially Rex.

Umbara took a toll on everyone. Kix could see it in the way everyone held themselves. Their energies were slightly subdued. Tup seemed lost with Dogma gone, and Fives had taken to the young trooper pretty quickly. Fives liked to help people in order to distract himself from his own problems and, well, there were worse coping mechanisms out there. Kix would have to talk to him at some point to make sure he was actually addressing his own issues.

Jesse had taken things hard, too. Losing Hardcase was rough on both Jesse and Kix because he was their batchmate. They were working through their grief together, and it would be a long process, but at least they weren’t alone.

Shaking himself out of his musings, Kix thought back to the matter at hand. He was standing outside of Rex’s door, fist hovering just a few inches away from knocking. He knew that Rex was also struggling with his own guilt for everything that happened in Umbara. Kix thought he could help.

Kix remembered with great clarity the moment that he snapped at Rex and accused him of acting like General Krell when Rex ordered him to leave the injured behind.

The guilt of that interaction was hanging like an albatross around Kix’s neck. Looking back on it, he realized that Rex had been put in an impossible situation where he had to mediate between his men, his brothers, and a leader whose entire goal was to get them killed. Rex was right, too— Kix had to survive and carry on because if he wasn’t alright, then there would‘ve been no one else to take care of other injured brothers.

Kix knew he had to apologize for his outburst, both for his own ease of mind and for Rex’s. Still, he hesitated, and was about to turn on his heel and come back another time when the door to Rex’s quarters slid open, and the captain himself stood in the doorway. He jumped a bit upon seeing Kix there, obviously not having been aware of his presence just beyond his walls.

“Sir,” Kix said, slowly lowering his fist from where it was poised to knock on the door, “may I have a word with you?”

Rex furrowed his brows together but nodded and gestured to have Kix enter his quarters.

The room was in disarray. Rex’s armor was skewed about the room in a disorderly fashion, which was uncharacteristic for his usual organized room. There were datapads strewn about the floor as well, all incomplete paperwork that had to be filled out in the aftermath of a battle.

Kix didn’t comment on any of this, and instead stood in the corner of the room, looking at his feet and fiddling with the sleeve of his body glove.

There was silence between the pair for a few moments. Rex sat himself on his unmade bed and regarded Kix with a blank expression, not that Kix noticed his gaze, as focused on the ground as he was.

Finally, Kix took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry.” He was startled, then, upon realizing that Rex had said the same thing in sync with him.

“Sir? What do you have to apologize for?” Kix asked.

“The… the campaign as a whole. I let you all down, and you had to bear the brunt of so many unfair situations. I never should ordered you to leave those men behind. That’s not what we’re trained to do, and I asked you to do it anyway. So, I’m sorry.” Rex explained, now looking at the ground instead of at Kix.

Kix scoffed, “Sir, Rex, I don’t blame you for that. I’m sorry for comparing you to General Krell in that moment. You are nothing like him, and I just said that because I was tired and frustrated. I know you were put in a ridiculously tough scenario and… it’s been weighing on you as much as it’s been weighing on me, maybe even more.”

Rex just sniffed and nodded slowly. He glanced at Kix and let a slight smile grace his face, “C’mere. Let me give you a hug.” He said, holding out his arm as an invitation.

Kix sighed dramatically and sat down on the bed next to Rex, leaning into and returning his older brother’s embrace.

“You’re never going to let me forget that I gave you a hug when I was still in medic training, are you?” Kix said with a sigh.

Rex laughed, “Oh, definitely not. But, hey, I think this hug is helping, so maybe the research you did back then wasn’t all for nothing.”

“Damn straight.” Kix said with a huff. Rex let out a laugh at that, and Kix allowed himself a chuckle, too.

Umbara left wounds on them all, but… they would heal with time (and maybe a few hugs, too).

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.

Re-Write Snippet (A New Brother)

“There’s gotta be something I can call you other than CT-7567. That’s a bit of a mouthful.” No response. “How about… just 67? I mean, technically it’s not a name, it’s a part of your designation. Nothing in the regs that says we have to use our full designations at all times. How’s it sound?” Still nothing. “67 it is.”

Curses, Cocoons and Clones part 4

Fives stared blankly at the wall

Half an hour ago he had awoken to a horrible sensation in his body and a massive headache. He remembered the events of the previous time of his nap (he refused to say he fainted) his nausea increased when he stared at his new body and promptly emptied his stomach.

Rex wasn’t doing much better, after crawling out of his cocoon and being fussed over by whole group wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t helpful that they both were naked and could see the major changes. The poor Captain had unfortunately came out with another change with two sets of arms rather then two.

Oddly after a close examination by Kix noted that Rex’s and Fives’s parts that changed where noticeably different. To their Wing pattern’s and to the leg joints hells, their antenna where different.

Thankfully Skywalker ripped some of his tunic to make a makeshift poncho for the both of them and and Kenobi surprised the rest of them by stitching some pants for the both of them. When asked how he knew to sew, he said and Fives quotes “Between having Qui Gon as a Master and having to watch Anakin, one needed to learn a such a skill.” Whatever that meant. Anakin sulked slightly after that.

Now, Fives and the Captain was sitting on the makeshift table half-heartily nibbling on some rations that Kix and sternly ordered them to eat.

Fives could tell that Rex was barely keeping together and honestly he felt the same, so he called over Echo and Ahsoka to distract them both while Skywalker, Kenobi and Kix quietly debated on if this was a permanent.

Fives pulled his poncho over himself and curled his wings closer to his back, praying if this was some shitty nightmare or prank.

“Fives? You look like you need some rest, why not you lay down for a bit?” Ahsoka eventually offered after she sensed the mood dropping.

Fives only nodded, Ahsoka took a spare cloth and folded it a couple of time to resemble some sort of bed mat. Fives ignored the worried stare of his batchmate and shut his eyes to pretend that he was going to sleep.

Rex was panicked when he woke up to say the least.

After struggling to open some sort of thick slimy film over himself he discovered himself with wings, antenna and inhuman legs. What was even more humiliating was he was small, small enough to fit in Cody’s hand who had nearly picked him up in a distressed attempt to see if he was ok.

Rex bit his hand though when he came to close, though he might had hung out with the Wolfpack too much. After some much needed calming down (Rex thanked the stars that Obi Wan Kenobi was there) they settled on focusing on maintaining on Fives and Rex’s dignity and made them both ponchos and pants. It helped a little, thankfully due to Skywalker’s lest then impressing handwork on the ponchos it covered most of their wings. Thankfully Obi Wan’s work ended up fitting more nicely.

Rex twitched when Fives quieted down and went to bed, Rex knew Fives was only quiet when he was really distressed or dissociating after a bad battle. Rex would of course comfort his Vode, however Rex wasn’t feeling the best himself and quietly excused himself to bed. As he laid down he wondered what this meant for him and Fives.

As everyone was asleep, with only the soft snore being the only noise, nobody noticed the growing rash on Kix’s and Cody’s legs and back

i love these two characters. i need to trap them in a collapsed building so they can talk about their feelings as one of them slowly bleeds out.

Summary: A few weeks before Kenobi was due to arrive on Kamino in the original timeline, the clones wake up with memories of their lives up to their deaths. Rex stays strong for his brothers— he has to. But who will stay strong for him?

Snippet: When Rex opened his eyes, he felt numb. He thought he was dreaming, at first, because he was back in his pod on Kamino. He hadn’t been there in decades, but occasionally he’d dream about being with his brothers again. He’d eventually wake up, though, and remember that they were all dead and he was alone. Huffing, Rex rolled onto his side and hoped he would wake up for real soon.

———

I’ve had this written for awhile and finally decided to post it! I hope you all enjoy!