Gelphie - Modern Au

September 1st… Rex

Hey, look’s who got a tumblr. Me! I hope you enjoy these little drabbles. I worked hard on these. 

Word Count: 300

Characters: Rex, Anakin Skywalker

Enjoy!!

Rex hated having Jango as his template. One word. Curls. He hated them. That’s why he always buzzed his head as short as he could get it. He hated his curls. 

Keep reading

Prompt: sleepy Captain Rex

That’s all. Short and sweet. Maybe a little Fives thrown in for fun. 😁

I have made vod fluff 🤷🏽‍♀️ Sorry if you wanted X Reader stuffs anon 😬

these were just some feels that came up... (I blame @lifeofclonewars for encouraging my clone cuddle pile headcanons)

Complete mental and physical exhaustion. There wasn't much else to it. After a long... rotation? (give or take a couple hours) of sorting through mission reports, requisitions... oh hells, when's the last time he ate something? Doesn't matter. He's got about an hour until Kix was heading to the barracks to... actually Rex didn't know if the medic even slept anymore... but he would be coming to the barracks. And maybe two hours before Echo and Fives stumble in from whatever place they're drinking at tonight. He removes most of his armour, placing it on the rack near the entrance to the small barracks room. His feet dragging along the floor as he tries to remember which bunk is his. That doesn't matter either, apparently, as he suddenly trips over something on the floor.

Kix entered the barracks, ready to spend the next couple hours going over patient reports, planning out treatments, and reviewing procedures. Placing his boots and helmet on the rack, he notices the sound of heavy breathing from... the middle of the room? He flicks on the light on his vambrace to see Rex flopped across some matresses that were on the floor for whatever reason. His mind tiredly jumping to how he, Rex, Jesse, and Hardcase used to sleep out in the field. (It always felt safer, leaning against a vod.) He rolls Rex off his stomach, only mildly surprised the when Captain doesn't wake at all. Sitting him up to where he could lean against Rex's back, Kix sat in the position they'd taken up countless times on missions. Fully expecting to sit awake, skimming his data pad until someone comes to help him move the dead-to-the-world captain.

Fives stumbles into the barracks, followed quickly by Echo who is (loudly) shushing him, telling him not to wake anyone. They both stop at the same time as they become aware of light snoring and a dim light in the middle of the room.

"You didn't put the mattresses back?" Fives hissed at his twin.

"I'm not the one who wanted to see how far he could jump off the bunks." Echo shoved Fives' shoulder.

Fives squints in the low light of Kix' data pad. Seeing the Captain and the medic sleeping against each other's backs, heads rolled back on the other's shoulder. He smacks Echo's chest with the back of his hand. "I told you we weren't the only squad to sleep like that."

"Di'kut, I'm not the one who disagreed with that." Echo slurred slightly, as he went to the right side of their sleeping vode. Leaning low so his head wasn't in Rex's face. Fives just shrugs, taking up the left side, making sure his hair wasn't going to brush against Kix if he shifts too much.

Could you do 'Right as rain' with Rex? (also your fics are so good, I really like all your ideas, all your stuff is so cool, like you've got fan art and everything!)

Some notes first— Thank you so much! It means so much to me to hear that you like my stuff so much. And I know right?? The first time I got fan art, I nearly fainted from excitement. It was such a cool moment. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, anon (and @razena88 bc this was one of the ones you mentioned in your reblog— I also have another coming after this that you mentioned in your reblog, too)! To those of you who also requested something— I’m posting these as I write them, so you’ll see yours… eventually. I’ll also post these to AO3 at some point, although when also remains to be seen. Anyways, on with the fic!

Right as Rain— character says they’re fine before collapsing

The debriefing that was supposed to be 30 minutes had turned into a 2 hour long one. The battle had only just ended and Rex hadn’t had a chance to catch a break in between.

On any other day, that wouldn’t have been an issue. On this day, however, it was, although Rex would never admit it to anyone. The planet that they were on had a harsh environment, which included plants that could cause someone who even slightly touched its leaves to become ill. It started with a headache and some dizziness, but soon spiraled into a full migraine accompanied with a high fever. It was nigh impossible for someone who had been infected to keep down any food after awhile, too. It was potentially deadly if not treated soon enough.

They’d all been careful to avoid it and had been covered head to toe for the entire mission, even the Jedi. Rex was starting to think that maybe he hadn’t avoided it as well as he thought he had as the meeting droned on. Still, it wasn’t his place to interrupt a debriefing simply because he had a headache that felt like a herd of bantha was tap-dancing on his head (a comparison lovingly made by Hardcase earlier on in the war when he’d earned himself a concussion due to an impressive explosion). Besides, Rex didn’t really know if the symptoms were because of that deadly plant, or if it was just because he hadn’t slept in awhile. He’d been so well covered during that entire mission that he was inclined to believe that it was the latter.

Of course, that was ignoring the fact that he felt simultaneously cold and hot, chills running down his spine continuously. It was also ignoring the fact that it was getting more and more difficult to keep from swaying on his feet. Rex stood at Ahsoka’s right and Cody’s left, and it was all he could do not to lean into his older brother. Whatever. He was probably fine.

Rex’s awareness of the meeting, however, had become nonexistent, and so he missed when they asked him a direct question. He had been too focused on controlling the head splitting migraine he’d procured and ignoring the horrible chills running through his veins. Cody bumped Rex’s arm with his elbow, causing Rex to jump back into attention.

“Sorry, what was the question?” Rex asked, mentally kicking himself for not paying attention to the meeting (but Force, it was only supposed to have been 30 minutes long).

“We were asking about the status of your troops, Captain,” General Windu said through the holotable, “How they faired on the mission.”

Rex was fairly certain that they’d already covered that in the meeting (he could have sworn that was what Anakin had been talking about for the last hour or so), and he opened his mouth to say that when he realized that that would not be an appropriate response. He was very glad he was wearing his helmet, then, so that the generals could not see his facial expressions as he tried to get his thoughts in order.

“Captain, are you quite alright?” General Kenobi, ever perceptive, asked from across the table. Rex nodded— he thought he did, at least, but it was actually more of a shudder than anything else.

“Rex,” Cody said in a low tone, gently reaching out to rest a hand on Rex’s shoulders.

Rex was vaguely aware that now all eyes were on him, so he gathered up his strength to reply, “Yes, I’m fine.”

He collapsed into Cody’s arms immediately after getting that out, his strength spent. His head was aching, though, and he was so cold and so hot and he couldn’t even see straight. The last thing he remembered before everything went black was Cody ripping the helmet off of Rex’s head and asking him to respond.

Rex woke up an indeterminable amount of time later, finding himself in the medbay stripped down to his blacks, although the top had been peeled off at some point. He still had a hell of a headache, although now it only felt like one bantha tap-dancing on his head instead of a whole herd. He heard a chuckle at his bedside and found Cody was looking at him with an exasperated expression, and he realized that he must’ve said that out loud.

Rex opened his mouth to actually talk with his brother, but Cody held up a hand to hush him.

“Next time,” Cody said, “Just tell us you think you’re sick, okay?”

Rex had the decency to look embarrassed and nodded. Cody rolled his eyes at him and told Rex to get some more sleep. The good captain was more than happy to comply.

After the Captain

They haunted him at night.

For a while, Rex had convinced himself he was doing okay. He kept moving, place to place, camp to camp, never packing more than he could carry. If it wasn’t in his armor, or tucked into the pockets of his cloak, he didn’t need it. He got up in the morning before the sun, of whatever planet it was today, did. He kept a low profile, watched the gazes of those around him slide over his face without recognition. He collected what he could - bits of data from loosely guarded corners of the networks, bits of food people forgot to chase after, spare parts and necessities from those who forgot to remember them.

In a sense, they’d forgotten him too - him, and the thousands and thousands of people who shared his face. The vode were fading already, sinking to the back of public memory as the Empire hung its gaudy trappings and spread its newly-hatched wings.

But those endless faces never left him alone.

Identical.

Unique. Given the same blank canvas, each person who picks it up will paint something new.

And they had.

He had.

That was the thing. Because he had been one of them, once. There hadn’t been a moment when he hadn’t had someone to turn to, a piece of advice, a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold or the person next to you, ready to fall in step as you go.

Captain.

They all said it differently, and he did too. It was wry, or joking, affectionate, or sincere, respectful or hopeful or a thousand things he couldn’t name.

For him, it was weighted. Thankful, in a way, desperate, in another. It was the responsibility of all of those faces, all of their newly-painted canvases warped from a galaxy they never knew. But they had never cared, stacking themselves on themselves until someone could make their identity out of the pieces of the others. He could see them without asking their names or finding their faces.

Tup’s smile bled into the horizon, the vod’ika he couldn’t save.

Fives’s laugh echoed in his ears, and something tore in Rex’s stomach every time.

Echo’s hands lingered on his, after the thousandth battle plan, and Rex could only see them shocked thin and wizened and paper-white, abandoned and alone.

Hardcase moved in the corner of his eye, off to his next adventure, and he was gone because Rex hadn’t the strength to stop him.

Kix’s side of the bed was empty, lost to the wind without a word.

Jesse was gone, stolen away, nothing but a body inside of a helmet Rex had helped him paint.

Captain.

There were so many things he could have done. So many things he should have done, would have turned the impossible upside down if it meant saving them for a day, a rotation, a year, a life they never got to live, trauma they never had to have.

Captain.

He heard it in their voices, in Hawk’s voice, in Charger’s voice, in Appo’s and Sterling’s and Koho’s and Vere’s and so many more that he never got the chance to save. He heard it in General Skywalker’s, barely-hidden humor and a kind of sarcastic optimism that infused his steps and his words. He even heard it in Ahsoka’s voice, and he knew she was fine, knew she could take care of herself. But it’s her as barely a Padawan, thrown into a war too big for her, it’s her as a newly-minted commander, it’s her growing into a kind of maturity she shouldn’t have to understand. But he did, because they all did.

It’s Ahsoka’s voice, broken, her hands bloodied and battered from digging their graves. She’s shattered, and there was no one there to hand her a needle and thread and teach her how to sew her scars together.

Captain.

Tup cries, and Fives gasps as his heart fails, and Echo’s hands are cold, and Hardcase closes his eyes before an explosion swallows him whole. Kix’s absence says more than his words ever could, but there’s a ghost of him in all the places he isn’t. And Jesse watches them all. Rex’s mind can imagine what his face looked like, behind his helmet. His eyes glaze and his mouth sets and his newly blank canvas amounts to nothing more than kindling.

Rex wakes up with the salty taste of tears on his tongue. He’s never had to be alone before.

So they haunt him at night, and still he tried to convince himself that he’s okay. He doesn’t deserve not to be. He couldn’t save them. It’s up to him to deal with the ghosts.

He woke before the sun, of whatever today’s planet was. He kept a low profile. He collected what he could.

He kept moving.

*******

oof I hurt myself with this one.

I love Rex. I write for him all the time. But when the prompt was "Captain Rex" I was like....uh....what do I do? (find the full list @clonetober - I can't believe it's been 20 days already.)

It took awhile, but this is what I came up with. What does our boy do after the end of the war?

(it'd be a humanitarian effort to a. give him a many hugs and b. teach him healthy coping strategies.)

so i've given glinda anxiety. i've given her adhd. i've given her autism. all of those kinda make sense. next thing I've got in my personal arsenal to project onto her is pots tho. so. um.

a glinda that faints into elphies arms all the time?? idek

For the WIP ask, I want to know more about Fox shoots Rex. 😭

Thank you for asking about it 💗 Believe it or not, that one actually ends up being a fix-it, eventually. It's a canon divergence fic that takes place during the chip conspiracy arc, except that in this, Rex manages to break the Force Field Fives had set up to restrain him and Anakin just as the Coruscant Guards arrive. He puts himself in front of Fives, trying to deescalate the situation, but takes the hit for him instead.

The moment he realized that he shot Rex, and that his blaster wasn't on stun, Fox is devastated by what he's done. And it only gets worst, because when he sees Rex fall, Anakin just loses it and force-chokes Fox. The only reason he doesn't just kill him is Fives, who breaks his concentration, shouting about how they need to get help for Rex.

Thorn takes advantage of it to drag Fox away. Not being able to stay by Rex's side makes it even worse for him and he just breaks down. This time, Fives lives, because Anakin won't let anyone come near his trooper after what happened to Rex. It also leaves Fox fearing the repercussion the Coruscant Guard will ineluctably get for failing its mission. He's so shaken and scared that he doesn't even dare send in the report of how arc trooper Fives wasn't neutralized.

Thorn tries his best to comfort him, but it's not enough to counter how much he now hates himself. No one in the Guard has ever seen him being so miserable. And when Cody asks to see him, Fox is convinced it's to tell him Rex died because of him. However, things turn out better than he expected.

Since Rex wasn't the original target Fox was aiming at, the blaster shot wasn't fatal, even though it left him with a big injury. When Cody heard of Rex getting hurt, he came to see him, along with his General, and they found Fives waiting by the captain's side, who explained them all about the chips, and about Palpatine being the Sith Lord. Also, since Anakin's outburst had many witnesses, Obi-Wan now knows his padawan has gotten dangerously close to the Dark Side, as well as the rest of the Order, who then make sure he gets help, so Vader never comes to be.

So the war is over, and Fox gets to hug Rex and to apologize a thousand times for hurting him.

During the funeral Rex stood behind class Seventeen, his old spot in the platoon occupied by its previous owner. It reminded Rex of a question he’d been putting off asking. 

He didn’t go to find ‘17 until late that evening, almost curfew, knowing the dread low and heavy in his gut would make it impossible to sleep unless he had an answer. 

“Sir? Can I ask you something?” Rex  fell in beside ‘17 as he left the Aurek’s mess after a meeting and made his way to– presumably– his barracks. 

“Yes?” ‘17 stopped, turned to give Rex his full attention. Rex skidded to a halt as well, surprised. 

“Um. Now that Kote’s back, what’s going to happen to me?”

“What do you mean what’s going to happen to you?”

“Am I being transferred back to my CT platoon? If it’s possible, I’d like–” Rex swallowed. “If A-030’s alright with it, could I be transferred into Colt or Havoc’s spot in class Thirty?”

He didn’t want to leave command track. He didn’t want to leave Davijaan or Fox or Kote. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave ‘17 either. 

Even if he was in a new class that would be better than being back in CT training. He’d at least get to see them. 

‘17 raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to be transferred?”

“… No, sir.” 

“Then you’re not getting transferred. Not if I have any say.”

“But–” Rex sputtered. “The class is at capacity!”

‘17 shrugged. “Thirty-seven’s only one more than thirty-six. Doesn’t seem like much of a difference to me.” 

“There’s nowhere for me to stand.” 

“Kote and Davijaan can squish in. I’m sure they won’t mind.” 

Rex gaped at ‘17. ‘17 reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Rex,” he said, soft. “I promise. And I will do whatever I have to do to keep that promise.” 

And all Rex could do was nod, and hope.

Keep reading

Right Hands of the Republic

Summary: Sabé and Rex have the worst jobs in the world.

Pairing: Background Anidala

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: None

Authors Note: It’s finally done! After months of inactivity! Big thanks to @transfetts for helping me edit this one! And a special shout out to @royalhandmaidens for helping me run with this idea, and being an incredible person to bounce off of ❤️

In all honesty, Sabé wasn’t sure if her day could get any worse.

Her life had been threatened before. That was easy to deal with. She had played the seven-string hallikset in front of millions of people. That was also easy, although in a different way. Sabé had fought the Battle for Naboo in the most uncomfortable outfit she’d ever worn, with a headpiece that weighed down her neck and made her look like a child wearing an oversized bonnet.

But standing here. Looking like an idiot next to the stiffest Trooper she had ever met? Today definitely took the cake as the worst day of Sabé’s life.

Sabé had never actually met a Clone Trooper before. Sure they were everywhere on Coruscant, they were practically everywhere in the universe, but Sabé had never actually met one before. The Coruscant guard didn’t really talk much, and she had only ever interacted with them as Padmé, not as Sabé.

But as soon as she saw Anakin and his trooper outside Padmé’s senate chamber, Sabé knew she would be spending some quality time with a Clone.

“General Skywalker,” Padmé started, and even with her hood covering her eyes, Sabé could practically see that dreamy look in Padmé’s gaze. Ugh. “How unexpected.”

Anakin wasn’t supposed to be back for weeks. He had returned from Umbara after a misunderstanding on the battlefield. Rumor had it that the GAR had suffered immense casualties and every available Jedi had been needed to finish the assault. Sabé wasn’t sure what was propaganda and what was the truth yet, but it seemed messy regardless.

And yet here Anakin was anyway. Sauntering through the senate halls as if nothing had happened and he wasn’t keeping the galaxy's biggest secret.

“Well you know how it is,” He says with a smirk, “I bring word from the Frontlines. I was hoping I could give you an update on our progress.”

What he really meant was, “We should both neglect our responsibilities and make out in your office and make Sabé super uncomfortable.” Or at least, that’s how Sabé heard it.

Playing third wheel was bad enough, but playing third wheel to a secret marriage between the dumbest Jedi and her best friend was possibly the worst way to spend an afternoon.

“Ani, you know I-“ Padmé starts, but he interrupts.

“Just a moment of your time senator,” He grabs at her hands gently, holding them near his chest. “Please?”

And Sabé knows then that Padmé is sold.

“Alright,” Padmé sighs, but she’s smiling. A lovesick type of grin that spreads warmly across her face. “Sabé, would you mind waiting here for a moment?”

“As you wish M’lady.” Sabé says. She actually did mind. A lot. But doing things she didn’t want to do was part of the job.

My hands are yours.

“Rex, why don’t you keep Sabé company for a bit? I’ll be right back.” Anakin winked as if to say “I won’t be right back”.

It took all of her Amidala training to hold back the eye roll.

And thus they stood.

And stood.

And stood.

Being a handmaiden meant a lot of standing around and waiting quietly. Standing behind Padmé as she addressed the Senate. Standing behind Queen Amidala as she addressed the senate.

It was a lot of senate and a lot of standing still. Sabé didn’t mind that. She liked listening and observing. What Sabé didn’t like was listening to her best friend fawn over a Jedi while she waited outside with a stranger.

Although the stranger probably didn’t like hanging around with her either.

Captain Rex hadn’t moved once. Hadn’t even addressed her. He stood at attention, armor faded and dented as he gazed silently ahead. He looked like he had seen better days. The paint was chipping off his arm brace and there was ash on his chest plate.

They must have gone straight for the senate building as soon as they had returned.

He was probably just as exhausted as her. And frustrated. Sabé let out a silent sigh. She was being unfair again. Not liking Anakin shouldn’t mean not liking his trooper.

So, Sabé takes a deep breath, without even moving, and tries to apply that “warmth” Yané always tried to teach her.

“So, see any good holovids latey?” Is the only thing she can think to say. Padme was a master at conversation, and although she had spent almost eight years imitating her, that was the one trait Sabé could not crack.

“I don’t have time off to watch Holovids.” His voice is mechanical under his mask, crisp and echoing.

It wasn’t like they were trying to be subtle or anything.

“Oh.” Is all Sabé says before they fall back into an uncomfortable silence. He seems to pity her though, for Captain Rex tries to start up conversation again after a few moments.

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

As if it is the will of the Force, suddenly there's laughter coming from Padmé’s chambers.

“No.” Sabé responds.

And suddenly there’s a crash, like a window shattering.

Forgetting her formalities, or her own embarrassment, Sabé instantly turns and slams into the door, forcing it open. The Captain is right behind her, blaster drawn. He almost runs right into her.

Padmé and Anakin are staring out a window. Anakin is leaning out, as if trying to see something. Padmé turns.

“Sabé. It was a reporter. I left my window open.”

Her heart drops.

Reporter. Open window. Secret affair.

Ruin.

Anakin seems much less panicked than Padmé, straightening himself and shutting the blinds. He looks… relieved? But Sabé has no time to untangle the map of his soul right now.

“What did he look like?” She asks firmly. There was little time for her to act, and she couldn’t waste a second.

“Dark hair, silver speeder bike. He was wearing a blue media jacket. Heading down to the lower levels.”

“Understood.” Sabé turns instantly, already planning the best route in her head. He would have had to take-

“Now wait just a minute.” Anakin. A minute is not something we have, Sabé wants to yell, but she keeps silent. “I’m not going to let Sabé go alone. She’ll never be able to catch that guy by herself.”

Yes I could. Sabé thinks. But still she keeps silent.

“Rex. Accompany Sabé. I want both of you back before we ship out.”

“Understood Sir.” The Captain stands at attention before quickly turning to Sabé.

Great. The one thing worse than being slowed down by Anakin, was being slowed down by his right hand. He had no idea how she operated. And he stuck out like-

Well he stuck out just as bad as a velvet robbed handmaiden.

“Whatever you wish, m'lady.” Sabé says, secretly hoping Padmé will side with her and deny Rex. But of course, she doesn’t.

“It would be helpful to have another person come along.” Padmé says instead, “Just hurry.”

Sabé gives a soft bow before turning on her heel and racing out of the room, the sound of clanking armor following her the whole way.

The Naboo garage was filled with glimmering starships and speeders. Sabé’s personal speeder was not counted among them.

“I’m driving,” Sabé says as she turns on the machine. “You can sit behind me.”

“Right.” He clearly didn’t like handing off leadership, but it seemed he was wise enough to take the metaphorical and literal backseat when he had to. The engine of her speeder roars to life as Sabé settles in the front with Rex quickly following suit.

“You’ll be able to see better than me if you use your scanner to try and spot him,” Sabé yells over the engine.

Her hair was wiping wildly now, flying loose from her hood and into her eyeline. What she would give for a hairpin.

“He’s probably klicks away by now.” Rex says, and Sabé hears the mechanical clinking of his rangefinder shifting into place as he scans the city.

“That’s why I asked you to use your bucket, genius.” Sabé says before pulling into the busy skylanes.

Sabé didn’t like Coruscant. It was too busy, with too many people and too much pollution. And the Underworld was the worst part. Between the smell of burning fuel, the rattling metal and the horrid smell of endless garbage disposals, everything about it made her skin crawl.

But whatever Padmé asked, Sabé would follow through.

“You seem to know your way around.” Rex says.

“I make it my business to know.” She replies. Just because Padmé wanted Anakin’s clone to tag around did not mean Sabé had to like it.

“Right.”

They fall into the motion of the city. With the wind tugging her hair loose and ringing in her ears, Sabé almost misses Rex’s shout.

“I found him! There!” He points over to her left. The reporter in question is six lanes over, blue jacket whipping wildly in the wind. Camera strap around his neck.

“Hang on!” She yells, before pulling a completely illegal six lane change.

Pulling up as close as she can, Sabé tries to settle herself even with the reporter, bikes side by side.

“Pull over and give me that camera!” Sabé yells, and the reporter turns to her with a wild look.

“On whose authority?” The reporter yells back.

“The Grand Army of the Republic.” Rex doesn’t yell, but the speakers in his helmet amplify his voice enough to be heard over. Sabé wasn’t exactly sure they were officially acting on behalf of the GAR, but it seemed to scare the reporter enough to give him pause.

“You’re in possession of private property!”

“I’m in possession of the story of the century!”

“Like hell you are!” Sabé screams.

He was drifting dangerously close now, his bike almost brushing hers. Normally, the auto navigation system would prevent them from getting this close to another vehicle, but Sabé had rewired it months ago in favor of more subtle routes.

He’s still yelling at her about “stories of the age” and “secret affairs” as she reaches out with her right hand and tries to grab his camera. He pulls back, but he could only move so much with both hands on the handle.

Almost-

And suddenly Sabé’s right hand slips off the steering.

And everything moves in slow motion.

Sabé’s bike tilts left, falling straight into the reporter’s. There’s a crunch from her bike, and the engine spits fire and sparks. The speeders are locked together now, her pedals caught in his.

The reporter has this terrified look on his face, and Sabé seizes that split second and rips the camera off the chain around his neck.

And then her bike falls.

And she falls.

And Rex falls right after her.

In the back of her mind, Sabé vaguely hears Rex yelling something along the lines of, “not again” but all she was really processing, was that she was falling to her death.

But instead of dying, Sabé finds her fall cut short as she crashes into a large speeder hood.

The group inside gasps in horror, and reaching as fast as she can, Sabé tries to grasp at the driver's hand, or the windshield or anything, but within an instant, she slips right off. Her sleeve catches on the side of the vehicle and tears in half as she falls again.

And lands directly onto another speeder.

This one is smaller, and buckles under her weight. Dripping off the skylane. The driver lets out a scream, and shakes her bike.

“I won’t be robbed by some crazy lunatic!” She cries.

“I’m not trying to rob you!” Sabé yells over the commotion.

“Liar!” The driver screams, and keeps shaking her bike. Sabé’s grip slips, and she can feel herself falling.

“Stop, stop! I just want to get down!” She manages. But the driver won’t hear it, and gives the bike one hard shake.

And Sabé is falling again, but the fall is quick, as she lands straight into a dumpster.

Despite the gross cushioning, Sabé hits the bottom of the bin with a sick crack, and instantly knows she won’t be sleeping on her left side for a while.

Ow.

Against the will of her body, Sabé pushes herself up and stands. She had to find that reporter, and she had to get out of that terrible, terrible smell.

Climbing over the edge of the bin shouldn’t have been hard, normally Sabé could have scaled a wall in seconds. But her vision was slightly blurred, and not being able to use her left shoulder was a hindrance. Standing on trash bags, Sabé boosts herself over the edge and stumbles out and onto the alley floor.

Her dress is in shambles. The left sleeve had ripped clean off, as had her hood. The once perfect ombré is now stained with mysterious green and brown liquid from the dumpster. Not to mention the pieces of trash that got stuck to the velvet.

Sabé knows her hair is flying free now and dreads the thought of her reflection. If her grease stained and scratched hands are any indication, she isn’t pretty.

Rex is laying on the ground a few feet away, trying to push himself off his stomach. His pauldron has a crack down the middle and several small pieces of his armor are missing. And so is his helmet.

Rex has a thin cut across his face, spanning from his left eyebrow to his chin.

He looks.

Really young.

Younger than she had expected.

It was probably foolish of her to assume he was older than her, Sabé knew most clones were only around ten, with accelerated growth. But she had always assumed he would look like her father or something. All grey and set lines. But Rex appeared no older than Sabé herself. Sure he had a giant cut across his face right now, but she could see past that.

He looks like a kid. Well, teenager. Well. He looked her age. But still. Young.

Too young.

Sabé supposes to most people he would seem handsome. Maybe in a boyish way, that would make the school girls on Naboo giggle, but to Sabé he just looks like-

Like a boy, covered in dirt, who really didn’t want to be here.

“Did you see where the reporter fell?” Sabé asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks, and she can feel an invisible weight sitting on her lungs. Her left rib is definitely cracked.

“No.” He groans. Without his helmet, Rex’s voice was drastically different. “But he can’t have gotten far.”

Sabé studies around them, Rex was right, the reporter couldn’t have fallen that much farther than they had, their bikes were practically locked together-

There.

Crawling off a trash heap, the reporter looks just as stunned as Sabé feels. Although she hoped she was holding it together better.

“Stop!” She shouts.

Sabé groans, and despite her aching limbs, she runs after him. He’s not fast, but in her current condition, neither is she.

Stumbling loosely, Sabé runs until they’re side by side. She doesn’t have enough energy to even yell at this point, so instead she reaches out for the camera and almost-

Suddenly Sabé feels a sharp tug on her hem, and she’s janked backwards, stumbling into Rex. He yelps, and they both tumble onto the pavement.

“I had him!” Sabé says sharply, pushing Rex aside. Red flames tug at her vision.

She just wants to go home. This was stupid, and she had better things to do. And why would Padmé make her run around with some knockoff Anakin-

“I’m sorry.” Rex says. “I guess I’m not quite used to your fighting techniques. I should have been paying closer attention.”

“Oh.”

Maker, she was an idiot.

Rex isn’t Anakin, and this wasn’t his fault. She is a spy and he is a soldier. And while she was playing lone wolf, he was trying to offer support, and she had ignored him.

Maker.

“No I-“ Sabé pauses, and looks at him. “That was my fault.” She can’t find any other words, and mercifully, Rex seems to accept her half apology and changes the subject.

“Fighting General Grievous was easier than this.” He mumbles under his breath.

“You’ve fought General Grievous?” Sabé says.

“Yeah, and it hurt less.”

They both pause. They had crossed a bridge. Both of them serve as the right hands of the ridiculous people they love but can’t see past the end of their noses.

And they’re both exhausted.

He laughs then. It’s an overtired laugh interrupted by a harsh cough, but it’s a laugh. And it makes Sabé laugh too.

In the dim streetlights, Sabé lets herself breathe. And relax.

“This is ridiculous!” She says suddenly, muffled between coughing giggles. “We look ridiculous, and this mission is ridiculous and our friends are ridiculous.”

With a huffed laugh, Rex forces himself to stand, and offers Sabé his hand.

“Let’s get him this time.”

As it turns out, they don’t have to look far. Less than two klicks away, the reporter stands over a garbage can, vomiting. Camera held limply around his neck.

“Surrender your camera, or face the consequences.” Rex says, standing over the reporter as he hurls. He sounds so serious, Sabé tries not to laugh.

“Just take it.” The man mumbles. “Dear maker, just take the kriffing camera.” Reaching around his neck, the reporter unclips his camera and holds it out limply.

Sabé reaches forward and rips it from his hands, cradling it to her chest.

“Thank you for your service, citizen.” Rex finishes, nodding his head politely.

“Whatever.” The man mumbles, “Just leave me alone.”

“All this for a holo.” Rex says. He’s got a playful tone, despite his knee guard missing and all the pieces of trash in his hair.

But Sabé ignores his quip, and wanders to a more secluded part of the alley. She scrolls through the memory files, passing moments and memories and gossip and-

There.

They look ridiculous. Sabé thinks, but she knows that’s not true.

They look happy. Even through the lens, their warmth is captured.

Padmé’s warmth.

The way she looks at Anakin is so warm.

So loving.

Sabé lingers for a moment, holding the camera gently between her hands. Staring.

“My hands are yours.”

Then with all the power she can manage, Sabé throws the camera down and smashes it against the pavement.

Sparks fly and bits of metal shatter this way and that, kicking up dirt and muck. The flickering metal almost looks poetic.

Almost.

Rex is silent for a moment, staring at the unceremonial end, and Sabé can’t seem to find her voice.

Something in her chest ached. It’s probably a displaced rib, Sabé reasons, but she knows that isn’t really it.

Thankfully, Rex seems to know how to defuse uncomfortable situations.

“We should call someone to pick us up.” He huffs, gaze pointed at the endless levels above them. “I’m not walking back.” Sabé almost laughs.

“Can we eat first?” She asks instead, trying to swallow the strange tears caught in her throat, and rolling her aching shoulder.

“Yeah I could eat.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nope.” He says with a grin, offering her his arm like they were leaving a charity ball and not crawling out of a dumpster.

That makes Sabé laugh. But she links her arm into his anyway and punches him in the shoulder, ignoring the way he winces.

“Fine. We’ll just charge Senator Amidala’s card.”

“You have access to the Senators bank?”

“Sometimes I AM the senator Rex.”

“Right. Sometimes I forget that.”

Sabé laughs.

“That’s the whole point, dummy.”

The diner they find looks almost as disgusting as they do.

Filled with flickering lights, unkempt floors, and more than a few blaster marks, the establishment doesn’t even react when a beaten up clone trooper and a crazy girl in half a dress show up and ask for a table.

The corner booth smells a bit like garbage, but Sabé reasons she also smells like garbage, so in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal. At least she could eat.

“Their wedding kinda sucked.” Sabé says, voice slightly muffled in between bites of her sandwich.

“I’ve never been to a wedding.” Rex responds, taking another bite of his cushnip. He had a weird taste for someone whose main diet consisted of ration bars.

“They suck. Never let your best friend talk you into attending one.”

“Noted.”

“It was just me, and two droids.” Sabé swallows, “Have you ever had to make conversation with two droids at a secret wedding?”

“I’ve had to make conversation with undead Genioshians.” He tries, pointing his fork at her.

“That’s not the same.”

It’s silent for a moment, Rex still pointing at her, and then they both burst into laughter.

Uncontrollable, over tired laughter. Sabé only stops when her arching chest can’t take it anymore.

“Why are you blonde?” She interrupts suddenly. “I thought all clones were Jango Fett, well, clones.”

“What?” He breathes, coughing at the end, and staring at her in disbelief. “I help you chase a reporter 30 levels, and all you want to ask is ‘why are you blonde?’ That’s the best you can do?”

Sabé tries to laugh again, but her chest hurts so much she stops herself.

“Do I really look that awful?” Rex reaches up and pulls another piece of trash from his blacks.

“Yes.” Sabé says with a smile, “You look ridiculous without your bucket.”

Rex rolls his eyes, pointing at her again.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

Something catches his eye, and Rex glances out the diner window.

“There’s our ride.”

Outside, a Republic landspeeder settles into the parking lot recklessly. There’s an ARC trooper in the driver's seat, white armor painted the same blue as Rex. A member of his battalion no doubt.

Quickly rising, Sabé settles the bill, and follows Rex towards the trooper.

She wants to get out of this hole as quickly as possible. And shower. Twice.

“What happened to you?” The ARC trooper asks, and Sabé can’t tell if his tone is genuine concern or teasing.

Or perhaps both.

“Not now.” Rex mumbles, as he brushes past the trooper and practically falls into the back seat of the landspeeder.

“Hi.” The trooper turns to her now, and even through the helmet's voice altering, Sabé can hear his tone dripping with charisma. She gives a half laugh, but it sounds more like a wheeze.

“Hi.” She responds, “I’m Sabé.”

“I’m Fives.” He replies, “Hang out in the underworld often?”

“Can it, Trooper.” Rex yells from the landspeeder. His head is leaned against the seat, and his brow is furrowed, as if this happens all the time. “Just get us back to base.”

“Yes Captain.” Fives says with a loose salute, but he nods at Sabé, and she swears he winks under his helmet.

Carefully maneuvering around her bruises, Sabé settles into the backseat beside Rex.

“You know.” Sabé starts, “If I’m going to be a third wheel more often, I wouldn’t mind serving with you Captain.”

“It’s been an honor Sabé,” Rex says, and then pauses, “but in all honesty I could never do this again and be just fine.”

Sabés cracked rib hurts too much to laugh.

angstpril day 4: he’s not heavy, he’s my brother

oh dear, oh dear. have some Umbara (derogatory)

(tw: major character death)

“Sir!” Waxer skids to a stop, out of breath. “I’ve found the platoon leader. He’s still alive.” The forest shivers around them, imaginary enemies blinking red eyes in the distance. 

Cody hates it here. “Who is it?”

Waxer swallows and his face pales. “It’s—” he clutches the helmet in his hand tighter, duraplast creaking in his grip. “It’s Rex.”

Keep reading

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.