I’m So Sorry We Didn’t Learn, George.

CrossHAIR Decisions…a Flashback

(Here are parts one and two!)

(Writing and layout credit does to the special & wonderful @legacygirlingreen!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream @rex-targaryen @freesia-writes @heidnspeak @justanotherdikutsimp

Tunes-Giving Event: Tech/Leena (NOV 26)

From the moment Leena laid eyes on him, she was utterly captivated, and when Tech met her, he was equally fascinated by her free-spirited nature. Together, they’ve always shared an undeniable magnetic energy. Leena brings spontaneity and excitement, while Tech offers a sense of stability and grounding. It’s true that opposites attract, and their quirky, endearing romance is a testament to that. With bouncy, playful tunes that capture Leena’s adventurous spirit, and thoughtful, lyrically rich songs that reflect Tech’s intellectual side, this collection perfectly blends their contrasting personalities. These songs will not only make you smile but remind you of a love as unique and delightful as theirs.

'Cause my love is very deep and I know what you need

What can I do to fulfill your dreams? I wanna be with you

There she goes again

Racing through my brain

'Cause we could stay at home or watch the sunset

But I can't help from askin', "Are you bored yet?"

And I'll be yours until two and two is three

Yours until the mountain crumbles to the sea

In other words, until eternity

From my heart and from my hand

Why don't people understand my intentions?

Nice to meet ya! 

EVENT MASTERLIST

(Special thank you my dear friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is responsive for all the writing, design layout, post editing & greatly assisted in song selections!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate

t'lyn sketch

I love them 5ever ✨

Tunes-Giving Event: Wrecker/Chori (NOV 27)

From the moment they met, Wrecker and Chori were utterly smitten, and their infectious energy lights up any room they enter. There's never a question that these two are destined to find joy in every moment of life. Their bond is pure happiness, and their songs reflect that with vibrant, upbeat tunes that make you want to dance and celebrate right alongside them. Together, Wrecker and Chori are a perfect pair, their lively spirit and playful connection shining through in every note.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Oh, Saturday Sun

I met someone

Don't care what it costs

No ray of sunlight's ever lost

You're my love, you're my sweetest thing

Shawty’s like a melody in my head

That I can’t keep out, got me singing 

Deep in her eyes

I think I see the future

Meet Chori!

EVENT MASTERLIST

(Special thank you my dear friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is responsive for all the writing, design layout, post editing & greatly assisted in song selections!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate

Baldur's Gate, but they're all ensigns on a Galaxy-class starship

Between Hearts and Ruin Pt. 3 "Spontaneity"

Summary: Tech and Leena’s marriage is strained, with mounting tensions that leave Tech feeling exhausted from carrying the weight of trying to fix their issues. Despite his efforts, he’s reached a breaking point, unsure of how much longer he can continue. The same night Tech starts to find some peace with his uncertain decision about their future, he meets someone new, stirring unexpected feelings. Meanwhile, Leena, who isn’t ready to let go, finds solace in the company of someone she knows only vaguely. Both are left questioning the path forward, caught between their unresolved past and the pull of new, uncharted connections.

Word Count: 8k

Pairing(s): Tech / OC Leena

Warnings: Mentions of splitting up

Author's Note: Hi friends! This is a 3 part story crossover between myself and @leenathegreengirl! All characters are part of her Pabu AU. All other chapters will be posted at the same time and linked below. Please check out her page to learn more about the AU if you are new, and if you have stuck around for a while... buckle up because it's going to get intense... You can find a link HERE on her account to a book version of the full story!

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

She distanced herself from the others, as the temptation to defy her twin's warning only intensified. It felt unjust—every single part of it. Despite the way Leena had recoiled at Kayden's harsh words about Tech, the pull to see him again was undeniable. She needed to confront him. She wanted to yell at him, to voice every frustration she’d been holding in. But more than anything, she yearned to break down in front of him, to cry—to make him feel the weight of the guilt that seemed so well-deserved for the things he was doing.

It didn’t matter that her stomach churned with a relentless storm of anxiety from the cruel words spoken about the clash between her and Tech’s natures. It didn’t matter that the past few months had left her feeling like a stranger to her own happiness. Because despite everything, despite the doubt, she was happy. What did they know of her life, of her heart? They weren’t her. They couldn’t possibly understand how she truly felt.

Kayden bringing up their childhood was utterly absurd. People were allowed to grow, to evolve, to leave behind the mistakes of their younger selves. Holding someone to the standards they had set as children—before they’d even fully understood who they were—was beyond unfair, Leena thought. It was a betrayal of the very idea of change, of the human capacity to learn and improve.

Leena could feel the shift in perspective over the past few weeks, a quiet and subtle transformation that gnawed at her from the inside. At first, when she stormed into the room at the tail end of Kayden's proposal from Crosshair, everyone had rallied behind her. They had been on her side. But as time passed, things began to change. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, everyone seemed to be lured in by Tech’s explanation. Even her own sister—her closest confidante—began to lean toward the idea that Tech wasn’t entirely to blame, that perhaps their marriage was worth giving up.

And Leena? She was left questioning everything.

She couldn't shake the feeling that Crosshair was at the heart of it all. He’d been one of the first to listen to Tech’s side of the story, and from that moment on, things had started to shift. Whenever she collapsed into their living room, her heart shattered and her body wracked with sobs as she clung to Kayden, Crosshair was the first to slip away, retreating to his room when her grief became too much. And then, at night, she would hear it—the whispers. Muffled, fragmented conversations slipping through the cracks of their walls, barely audible but unmistakably mentioning her name, and Tech’s, woven together in murmurs that felt too intimate for her to ignore.

Kayden’s unwavering support was no longer a guarantee, and the sting of that realization was sharper than anything else she had felt. The whispers in the dark—those hushed, secretive murmurs slipping through the walls—echoed her deepest fears: she was losing everyone, piece by piece. The people she had relied on, the ones she trusted to stand with her, were slipping away. She had been left behind with nothing but excuses. It was supposed to be her side they stood on.

As Leena walked the familiar path back to the secluded bungalow she knew Tech had retreated to, the weight of it all pressed down on her. Her mind wandered back to the moment everything began to unravel, to the conversation that had changed the course of everything. The words exchanged between her and Tech, so sharp and final, had felt like a blow to her heart. And yet, she couldn’t quite shake the memory—the way Tech had looked at her then, his eyes a mixture of regret and resignation, as if he was already preparing to walk away before he had even spoken the words. Not to mention the only time she’d ever actually seen him angry.

"Leena, would you please sit down?" Tech’s voice carried from the other room, frustration unmistakable in his tone.

She had perched herself on the edge of the counter of the fresher, trying to hurriedly get ready. Plans with Chori had been set, and that meant she had to leave soon. But as she’d returned to the house later than expected—caught up in the distraction she couldn’t quite place any more—she lost track of time. Sitting at the table, watching Tech work, the minutes slipped away unnoticed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to get caught in the flow of things, and Chori had long since grown accustomed to her tendency to lose herself in the moment.

“I’m not sure I have time before I leave to meet Chori,” she called out, her voice drifting over her shoulder as she rushed to finish her makeup. The faint rustling in the next room paused for a beat, but Leena didn’t give it much thought at first. She was too focused on the mirror in front of her, on the task at hand. But when a long, exasperated sigh followed, she felt a knot tighten in her chest. She hastened the final touches, fingers trembling slightly as she tried to speed through the motions.

Tech didn’t respond. Leena assumed he was just settling in for some quiet time, perhaps planning to relax on his own for a while. But as she moved toward the door, preparing to grab her jacket and leave, she heard him clear his throat, his voice cutting through the air with unexpected gravity.

“You promised we would have the conversation I mentioned a week ago,” he began, his tone measured but sharp. “I feel I have been patient enough, but the timing seems to change constantly to accommodate your schedule. I do not think it is fair to—”

Leena’s gaze flickered to the wall display, catching sight of the time. Her heart skipped. She was already running late. “I’m sorry,” she interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I promise we’ll have it when I get back—”

“Please do not interrupt me,” he cut in, his tone firm as he finally turned his gaze toward her. Leena nodded, her eyes briefly flicking back to the wall before she met his again.

“Tech, I’m already late,” she pointed out, her voice strained as she tried to reason with him, but he refused to turn toward her to acknowledge her words. Instead, he shook his head slowly, his frustration only growing.

“As a result of your own distraction,” he continued, his voice tight. “First, it was because you got held up with Omega. Then it was helping Crosshair plan some surprise for Kayden. Every time I try to have a serious conversation, something else always comes up. I’m continually sidelined. These promises made and not kept are becoming increasingly frustrating.”

Leena’s pulse quickened, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy cloak. His accusations hung in the air, thick with frustration, and for a moment, she could only stand there, caught between the need to explain herself and the mounting pressure to leave.

“I know I’ve been distracted, Tech,” she said, her voice tight, but there was a flicker of defensiveness in it too. “But you can’t keep acting like the world revolves around your schedule. I’m trying to juggle a million things. I have things to do too.”

She could feel the tension rising in the room, the space between them filled with the unspoken words neither of them wanted to say. She glanced at the door again, willing herself to walk out, but her feet felt like they were stuck to the floor.

Tech’s eyes were cold now, a calm but sharp anger that sent a chill down her spine. “That’s exactly the problem, Leena,” he replied, his voice deceptively quiet. “You are prioritizing everything except promises made to me. I’ve been patient, but this... this is becoming a pattern. We keep putting it off, and I can’t keep pretending that it does not bother me.”

She clenched her fists at her sides, the urge to leave becoming overwhelming. Why did everything have to feel like this? She had wanted to escape this conversation, to get away from the suffocating weight of it all, but now she felt trapped, both by his words and by her own inability to walk away.

“I have prioritized you!” she snapped, the frustration bubbling over before she could stop it. “You so often work late into the evenings with little to no regard for me. How often lately have you neglected to attend plans with me to see our friends? You just hole yourself up in this stuffy house and work. I can’t live like that. I have a life outside of you, Tech.  And you’re not the only one who’s been patient here. I have been patient with you.  I told you we will have the conversation at some other time.”

Tech stood there for a long moment, just looking at her, as if weighing her every word. His jaw clenched, and she saw his expression harden, the faintest flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it.

“This isn’t about your life outside of me,” Tech said, his voice low but steady, the weight of his words pressing into the space between them. “This is about the commitment we made to each other—the trust that’s supposed to be the foundation of this. And I can’t keep pushing my feelings aside while you run off to others, ignoring something I consider to be incredibly important.”

Leena’s jaw tightened, and the sharp sting of frustration burned in her chest. She crossed her arms, the familiar defensiveness rising within her. “Fine. I’m the bad guy,” she bit out, sarcasm coating her words. “Glad we’ve established that, Tech. You’re right. I’m wrong. Same as always. Can I just go meet up with my friend now? I know you don’t understand what it’s like to want to be around other people.”

Tech’s eyes flashed, and the chill in his gaze sharpened. “That’s not only inaccurate, but it’s also unnecessary. And childish,” he scoffed, clearly displeased with her tone.

Leena felt the sharp edge of his words, but she wasn’t backing down. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, her temper flaring, but also a deep frustration with the way he was trying to frame the situation. She knew it was a low blow on her part, especially considering that Tech did have friends—people he was close to, even if they didn’t share the same emotional reliance on others that she did. She knew they were wired differently in that regard. But at this moment, it didn’t matter. Her anger at him derailing her plans, turning what should’ve been a simple, enjoyable evening into a guilt-laden argument, was growing unbearable.

“There it is,” Leena said, her voice dripping with frustration. “It’s always childish when it’s something you don’t like. It’s childish for me to want to have spontaneous dance sessions in my kitchen with my partner. It’s childish for me to fill the bed with plushies because my partner won’t sleep next to me unless he’s exhausted. You always do this, Tech. You make me feel like I can’t be myself—like I can’t be spontaneous. And that hurts.”

Her voice wavered as the frustration bled into sadness, a deep ache rising in her chest. She had always prided herself on being free-spirited, willing to embrace the little moments, to laugh, to dance, to find joy in things that didn’t always fit into a neatly organized box. But here he was, once again, pulling her back into the rigid structure he clung to, forcing her to bend and twist herself into a shape that didn’t feel like her own.

Leena took a slow breath, trying to steady herself, but the weight of it all was too much. She was tired—tired of feeling like her happiness, her quirks, were something to be judged. She was tired of always having to conform to his routines, his quiet, methodical approach to life. She didn’t work that way, and it felt like every time she tried to break free, to embrace the unpredictable, she was made to feel small, childish.

Tech’s response was sharp, cutting through the moment. “It is childish the way you’re acting right now, Leena. I will not apologize for calling the situation as I see it. I asked for a discussion, and you made promises to have it several times. You keep brushing my request aside. You’re the one breaking your word. When I brought it up last time, you said tonight was a good time to talk. And now, once again, you’re neglecting me. That is you, going back on your word. I don’t see how holding my partner to their promises is something I should be villainized for.”

Leena felt the sting of his words, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. “It’s not about breaking promises, Tech,” she countered, her voice rising with the force of her emotions. “It’s about you treating me like my needs—my desire to be spontaneous—don’t matter. And now you say I’m ignoring your needs,”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss in the first place, Leena!” Tech’s voice was sharp now, the calm that usually defined him slipping away with his growing frustration. “I’ve been here, trying to better suit your needs. Every time you don’t like the words coming out of my mouth, you pull back into this state of trying to appeal to me through guilt, turning it into a smaller, more irrelevant issue. This—it’s becoming the most exhausting, repetitive argument we continue to keep having. It’s starting to feel like I’m stuck in the most unpleasant routine and I can’t break out of it.”

He stepped forward, his body tense, as his usual calm demeanor shifted into something more urgent, more impassioned. Leena could see the shift in him, the subtle but undeniable way his frustration was mounting, spilling over in a way that surprised her. She had expected him to remain composed, to be the steady, logical one—but now, there was a new intensity in his voice.

“Let me make this very clear,” he continued, his words more measured, but still laced with an undercurrent of frustration. “Just because I’m not like you, doesn’t mean I judge you or think any less of you. I respect you, Leena. I respect the individual person you are, and I’ve made an effort to accommodate the differences between us. But when you keep pushing my boundaries, trying to force me to be something I’m not, simply to make me more like you—it feels unfair. Your constant quest to reshape me into someone who thinks and behaves exactly like you doesn’t feel like love or compromise. It feels like control. It puts me in the position of being unable to fulfill your needs and that hurts. You know I pride myself on being able to solve problems but your never ending void of things that are ‘wrong’ with me or ‘wrong’ with how we function seem insurmountable.”

Leena’s chest tightened as she processed his words. She hadn’t expected him to voice this so bluntly, to lay it out with such intensity. She had always felt the differences between them, but hearing him speak so plainly about it made her realize how deeply this was affecting him.

“Every time we address these issues, you cry, demand that I comfort you, and then there’s no real change. No effort to understand my needs. It’s always a list of new things you need me to alter about myself so that you can be happy,” Tech said, his voice low now, tinged with a bitterness that Leena had never heard from him before.

“I can’t even fully blame you for all of this,” Tech began, his voice quieter now, but still heavy with emotion. “I’ve continually made the effort to accommodate your requests, even when they make me incredibly uncomfortable. I’ve tried to meet you where you are, even when it meant pushing aside my own boundaries. And yes, I acknowledge that there are times when I’ve been unfair to you, too. But this whole situation—it’s leaving both of us so unfulfilled. I can feel it, Leena. I can see it in the way you avoid being around me. You’re gone so much now, and the truth is... we’re both miserable. I don’t think either of us knows how to fix it anymore.”

His words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of everything they had both been avoiding. There was no anger in his voice now—just resignation. But it stung all the more. The quiet truth of his statement settled in her chest like a lead weight, and for a moment, all she could do was breathe, her thoughts spiraling.

But before she could respond, he continued, his voice taking on the familiar cadence she had come to dread. “We both know this isn’t working. We both know we’re just going through the motions, and pretending everything’s fine isn’t helping either of us. I’m tired of waiting for things to change when it seems unlikely given the depth these issues—”

“Stop. Tech, stop talking right now,” Leena interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the flow of his words. A chill swept over her as she felt the shift in his tone. That shift from frustration to the all-too-familiar, clinical, matter-of-fact way he spoke when he was trying to distance himself emotionally. It wasn’t anger anymore, but it felt even worse. He wasn’t mad at her—he was simply... resigned. Detached.

The same tone that always made her feel like she wasn’t capable of understanding the bigger picture. The same tone that made her feel small, as though she were simply too naïve, too impulsive, to grasp the full weight of the situation. It was the voice that stripped her of any agency in their relationship. The voice that made her feel ignorant—like a child fumbling in the dark while he watched from above, quietly disappointed.

Her pulse quickened as she tried to steady herself, but the feeling of inadequacy washed over her. She hated that tone.

“Leena,” Tech’s voice was soft, but it still carried the weight of everything that had been unsaid between them. She immediately shook her head, as if the simple motion could shut out the truth he was about to speak.

“Don’t,” she pleaded, her voice strained, a desperate quietness to it as she tried to keep her composure.

“Leena, please—” he urged, stepping closer, his voice laced with a combination of concern and frustration. But it was too much. The words she didn’t want to hear, the thoughts she didn’t want him to share, felt like they were suffocating her.

“No.” She snapped, her hands flying to her ears, covering them as if the simple act of blocking out his voice could erase everything he was trying to communicate. Her eyes squeezed shut, the darkness behind her eyelids somehow offering a false sense of control as she tried to steady her breath, desperately trying to hold herself together.

But it was no use. The emotions that had been building inside of her for what felt like an eternity, the pressure that had been quietly simmering beneath the surface, all erupted at once. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore.

And then, just as she thought she might be able to pull herself together, she felt his hands. His touch was firm, grounding her in place, but it wasn’t the kind of touch she wanted. His hands rested on her shoulders with careful distance, a space between them, as if he was trying to steady her without crossing that invisible line. It was meant to be comforting—she could tell—but in that moment, it felt like a thousand miles away.

The tears came faster now, hot and raw, filling the room with a desperate sorrow that she couldn’t contain. She shook with the intensity of it, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs. Every part of her wanted to collapse into him, to feel his warmth, his comfort—something that would anchor her in the midst of her chaos—but he was so far away, physically and emotionally.

Without thinking, she reached out, hands trembling as they grasped at the empty air, desperate to close the distance between them. She wanted to pull him into her, to hold onto him so tightly that the words and the pain and everything else would just go away. But no matter how much she stretched her arms toward him, he remained just out of reach, keeping her at a distance from his chest.

Her body trembled as she fought against the overwhelming wave of emotion crashing over her. The sobs filled the space around them, echoing through the cottage as she cried out in frustration, in helplessness, in all the things she couldn’t put into words. She was too far gone to hide it anymore.

“Why won’t you just hold me?” she whispered through the tears, her voice breaking. It was the simplest of requests, but the hardest one to make. Tech’s grip on her shoulders tightened ever so slightly, but his words still hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken distance between them. 

“Because I refuse to play into this cycle any longer, Leena,” Tech’s voice was firm, but the undercurrent of frustration was clear. “I need space. I need—”

But before he could finish, Leena’s anger surged. Without warning, she shoved him away, the force of her actions surprising them both. The movement was desperate, a physical manifestation of everything she had been holding back.

Without a second thought, she turned and ran for the door, her heart pounding in her chest, the weight of their conversation too much to bear. She couldn’t hear anything else he had to say, nor did she want to. The words, the distance, the suffocating silence between them—it was all too overwhelming.

Her hand was already on the door handle, and she didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

Tech didn’t call out after her. He didn’t chase her, didn’t try to stop her. Instead, he just stood there, rooted in place, his eyes locked on her retreating figure. His expression remained unreadable, distant. It was as if he had already accepted her departure—like it was inevitable.

He let her go.

The silence that filled the space in the wake of her exit felt louder than anything she had ever heard before.

Leena’s steps quickened, each stride growing more forceful, more determined. The anger bubbled up inside her, each step pushing it higher. It felt like it was all she’d been living in since that moment: a constant, exhausting cycle of sadness, anger, and a gnawing confusion that never seemed to let up.

It left her spiraling, caught in a whirlwind of hurt and the desperate need to take action. She wanted him to feel the weight of what he’d done, to make him realize the depth of the pain and come back, to fight for what they had left. She wanted the validation of everyone else to agree with her, to have them all stand beside her, reaffirming that she wasn’t the one who had caused this rift. She wanted everything to fall back into place, to go back to the way it was before—before the arguments, the distance, before they had become strangers in their own relationship.

But the truth was, Leena wasn’t ready to face the reality that some of what Tech had said that night had struck a chord within her. The words he’d thrown at her—harsh as they were—had a ring of truth she wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. To admit it would feel like admitting defeat, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

That’s why she needed to speak with him so desperately. She wanted to apologize, to beg him to understand that she never meant to hurt him, to make him feel like he had to carry all the weight of their struggles alone. She wanted to show him that she was willing to put her needs aside if it meant he would stay, that she would bend, just as he had, to make it work.

As Leena neared the last few rows of houses, the jungle looming just beyond them, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her—both physical and emotional. Her mind was still reeling from the night’s events, from the weight of the argument and the hollow space it left in her chest. Distracted by her turmoil, her footing slipped, and before she could brace herself, her knees slammed against the cold stone with an unforgiving force.

The pain shot through her, but it wasn’t just the physical ache that struck hardest—it was the crushing weight of everything she had been trying to avoid. Kneeling there on the unforgiving streets, her knees bleeding slightly from the scuff, the rawness of her emotions overwhelmed her. For a moment, she felt as though the fire that had been pushing her forward—driving her to act, to fight—dissipated entirely.

Something about being sprawled on the ground, her body aching and vulnerable, made the internal storm inside her grow even more unbearable. It was like the final nail in the coffin, the moment when the fight in her finally seemed to wither. The hurt wasn’t just physical; it felt like suffocation, like being trapped beneath water for far too long, your lungs desperate for air but unable to find it. It felt like being wedged into a tight space, your limbs aching from the lack of freedom, a constant tension in your muscles that couldn’t be relieved. It was a constant throbbing in her skull, as if the pain would never cease.

And the embarrassment. The sting of humiliation surged through her, as though her world had just crumbled on display. She prayed—more than anything—that no one had witnessed her fall. Please, don’t let anyone have seen. This entire situation had become an embarrassment in itself. Their loved ones, once supportive, now watched in silence as everything between her and Tech unraveled. She couldn’t bear how everyone else seemed to be finding their own happiness while her world came crashing down in slow motion. It was suffocating, their pity hanging around her like a dark cloud.

Part of her longed for the sympathy, craving it as some sort of validation. Yet another part of her resented it, hating the feeling of being seen as weak, broken, unable to manage her own life. This constant storm of conflicting emotions felt like it was tearing her in two. She could never quite tell which side of her thoughts would win out—one minute she was angry, the next, she was desperate for someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But it never was.

“Leena?” came a voice from behind her, loud but gentle. It held an unexpected weight that broke through her spiral of thoughts. It was a clone—though not one of the batch. Their voices were all uniquely altered by their enhancements, and after spending time around the “regs,” Leena had learned to recognize a handful of them, though their voices often blended together in her mind. Still, the voice was unfamiliar enough to be a comfort, a momentary distraction from the mess she felt she was drowning in.

Leena heard the shuffling of footsteps growing closer, the soft sound of boots dragging against stone until they stopped just in front of her scraped knees. She couldn’t bring herself to look up. Looking up meant meeting their gaze, exposing just how deeply she was affected by everything that had happened. She wasn’t ready for that—wasn’t ready for someone to see her so raw, so vulnerable. Especially not someone like Rex or Jesse. They were both good men, people she respected, but the thought of receiving an awkward pep talk from someone who shared so many of the same traits as the man who had just broken her heart felt unbearable. It wasn’t just that they were clones—it was that they shared his essence, and right now, everything about that made her skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to wave them off, her voice barely above a whisper. She hoped it was enough to send them away, but as she shifted slightly, there was a sudden movement that made her freeze. Whoever it was didn’t retreat. Instead, they knelt down beside her.

“You’re bleeding,” they said, their voice soft but laced with concern. Then they sucked in a breath, clearly startled by what they saw. “And… you’ve uh… been crying.”

Leena squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to break again. The words hung in the air, heavy with truth, and she hated hearing them. Hated that someone had seen her like this, completely unraveling. But even as the harshness of it hit her, something in their tone made her pause. It wasn’t judgment, wasn’t pity—it was simply a quiet recognition of her pain, and that somehow made it worse. In the solitude of her emotions, she had convinced herself that no one noticed, that she could slip away unnoticed. But here they were, kneeling next to her, acknowledging everything she had tried to bury.

“Yeah? I wonder why that is?” Leena retorted with a sharp, sarcastic edge in her voice, her words dripping with frustration. She hoped the tension in her tone would make it clear that she really didn’t want company right now. The sting of her emotions was still too raw, and the last thing she needed was someone trying to console her. It was easier to be cold with this man, whoever he was, than to face the reality of what had just happened. She couldn’t take her anger out on Tech—he wasn’t there to receive it—but that didn’t mean her frustration wasn’t bubbling over. This stranger would be an easier target for her bitterness, she thought.

The response came slowly, almost like they were testing the waters. "Uh... because you fell and hurt yourself?" Their voice was cautious, as if trying to gauge her reaction, unsure whether to push further or retreat.

Leena stiffened at the answer. It was simple, logical—but it only served to highlight how much she’d failed to keep her emotions in check. Fallen, hurt herself. It seemed like such a small thing, something that could easily be brushed off, but the truth was far more complicated. It was the culmination of everything she had been struggling with, everything that had been building up for days. And now, here she was—scraped knees and face full of tears—and no one to share the weight of her broken heart with. Kayden had tried and she dismissed her. 

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she finally glanced up at the figure kneeling next to her, but it wasn’t with the relief of someone ready to accept help. It was with the defiance of someone who was tired of feeling so out of control. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay. 

Leena took a moment to assess him, her gaze moving slowly over his appearance. Sweat clung to his skin, and his shaved head glistened in the dim light. It was a look she’d seen countless times before on the regs. Most of them kept their hair short, if they had any at all. Rex was one of the few exceptions she could think of, and even his hair was kept cropped closely. 

But the man before her, this particular clone, had something else that set him apart: the tattoos. Intricate blue patterns snaked up the side of his face and head, marking him with a kind of permanence that only soldiers like him seemed to wear proudly. The tattoos weren’t the only distinguishing feature, though. A few metal piercings caught in the light. But, it was the hearing aid that drew her eye next—an essential part of him, always there, a reminder of the harshness and endurance of his life.

Hardcase.

She wasn’t particularly close with Hardcase, but there was a certain sense of familiarity between them. They all shared the same space, the same friend group—living and working on the same isolated island. It created a bond, whether or not they acknowledged it. Hardcase had always been the kind of guy who radiated energy, someone who was constantly full of life and laughter. It was hard to pin down whether it was the result of surviving so many close calls with death or if that was just who he had always been. Either way, his presence was infectious. He was the kind of person who could easily lift a room with his humor and his reckless charm.

She knew he spent a lot of time with Wrecker—given their shared love of all things chaotic and physical—but beyond that, she’d never really spent time with him in an isolated setting. They were part of a larger group, a shared dynamic that never really allowed for individual connections to form outside the group context. And besides, Leena had never really felt the need for anything deeper with him.

There was an unspoken boundary in her mind, a line she’d never even considered crossing. Seeking companionship from another man while married had always felt... inappropriate, almost like a betrayal. It didn’t matter that Tech spent time with Mae—those moments had always felt different. Non-threatening, even. Leena had never felt any insecurity over that relationship. Mae was a friend, nothing more. But in her own case, even in the absence of anything beyond platonic with Hardcase, the thought of it felt wrong. It was a loyalty to Tech, to the life they had built together, that kept her from seeking out these kinds of connections.

Leena shook her head, almost frustrated with herself for even allowing her thoughts to wander in that direction. She hadn’t come here for this—to think, to question, or to even entertain the possibility that she was somehow drifting into unfamiliar territory. Yet, as she noticed Hardcase’s gaze lingering on her scraped knee, the care in his eyes almost felt like a gentle reminder of the kindness that had been missing in her own world lately. The thought of chasing after Tech in this moment didn’t seem right anymore.

Tonight had been a storm, an emotional chaos she couldn’t untangle in her mind, and maybe, just maybe, circling back when things weren’t so raw would be the better choice. Time had a way of settling tempers, she knew. It was just a matter of waiting for the tension to dissolve enough so they could both approach the conversation with clearer heads. Something about seeing a near stranger—someone as disconnected from her personal life as Hardcase—show the kind of concern that her own family hadn’t, made her pause. There was no history there, no emotional weight, and that made it easier for her to consider it without the usual walls going up. Hardcase’s detachment from her current situation allowed her a space to breathe, to think for once without everything being clouded by the overwhelming noise of what had just happened.

“It’s just a scratch,” she said quietly, trying to downplay it, but there was no fooling him. She watched as he shook his head, a subtle hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Still probably hurts,” he said, his voice gentle, but there was a knowing tone in it. He wasn’t dismissing it, but acknowledging the hurt in a way that seemed more... real. More understanding.

Leena’s gaze flickered instinctively to the side of his neck. It was there she saw the fading scars, a patchwork of history that spoke of battles fought and injuries endured. She’d heard stories about the extent of the damage he’d suffered—not just from the physical pain, but the emotional toll it had taken on him. She had seen him swim once or twice, the way the marks ran down his body, crisscrossing like an unfinished map. They were part of him, just like the carefree energy he always exuded. She had no idea how someone could endure that level of pain and come out on the other side seemingly unscathed, emotionally.

So when Hardcase's concern shifted to something as minor as her scraped knee, something about it caught Leena off guard. His concern felt genuine, untainted by her complicated history with Tech or her emotional baggage. It wasn’t about fixing anything—it was just care, unprompted and unassuming. A small, quiet gesture that she couldn’t help but find almost absurd in its simplicity. She couldn’t help it—she giggled, a soft sound that escaped her lips before she could stop it.

It was the first time in hours she had felt any sort of release, and it felt so good, so unexpected. Here was a man who’d faced real pain, real struggle, and yet he was tending to her small, insignificant injury like it was something that mattered. It was such a contrast to the suffocating silence she’d experienced all night. In that fleeting moment, something shifted inside her—this ridiculous, absurd giggle breaking through the wall she’d built up inside.

“Is that a laugh?” he asked, feigning shock, his voice teasing but with a soft edge of curiosity.

“Does it matter?” Leena replied, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of weariness. She shifted to sit more comfortably on her leg, the sharp stone and dirt bits pressing into her skin as she examined the scratches she’d earned from the fall. They were insignificant, really, but they seemed to mirror the small pains that had built up inside her over the past weeks, things she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge.

“I think it does,” Hardcase shrugged with a faint smile, his gaze flicking to her as he reached into his pocket. Leena wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for, but when his hand emerged with a small piece of scrap cloth, she raised an eyebrow. It was odd, but then again, she had learned to expect the unexpected from people like him.

Without waiting for her to say anything, he passed it to her, and she took it with a quiet nod. The gesture, simple and unassuming, was oddly comforting. It wasn’t much—a scrap of fabric—but at this moment, it felt like a bridge over the distance she’d tried so hard to maintain between herself and others. Leena dabbed at her face, wiping away the evidence of tears she hadn’t noticed gathering until now. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice quieter as she focused on the task at hand. She hadn’t realized how much of a mess she’d become in the span of a few hours.

Hardcase didn’t reply right away, but his eyes held an understanding she hadn’t expected from someone she didn’t know well. “I can’t say I recall hearing one from you in a while,” he said after a beat, his voice softer than before, not mocking, just observant. It wasn’t an accusation, but an acknowledgment of what she’d been through, and it made her feel oddly seen.

Leena paused, her fingers tightening around the cloth for a moment. “It’s been a... rough time,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mind briefly flashed to the argument with Tech, the overwhelming tide of emotions, the disconnection she couldn’t seem to fix.

“That’s an understatement,” Hardcase said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. It was light, like he was trying to pull her from the depths of her own thoughts. “Sometimes we forget how to laugh. Or maybe we forget it’s okay to laugh. Even when things feel impossible.”

Leena’s eyes flicked to his face, studying him for a moment. There was a sincerity in his words that she wasn’t used to hearing from people, let alone someone she barely knew. It was like he saw through her outer walls, recognizing the fatigue in her that she’d been so desperate to hide.

“You don’t really know me,” she said softly, surprised by the vulnerability in her own words. "You probably think I’m just... over reacting, or something."

Hardcase shook his head, his expression softening, losing some of the usual guardedness that came with the military. “I think... you’re going through a really tough time. It’s okay to hurt when things don’t make much sense.” He paused, running a hand over his head as though searching for the right words. “Sorry. I’m not great at saying the right thing. I’m sure you’re used to smarter conversations than this.”

Leena couldn’t help but let out a small breath of relief. She knew he was alluding to Tech’s natural eloquence—the way he could articulate his thoughts with precision, always calculating the best way to express himself. Tech had always been able to explain everything, to make sense of the world when she felt lost. But there was something refreshing about Hardcase’s rawness, his willingness to admit that he didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t try to overcompensate with words, instead offering his honesty in a way that felt genuine.

Tech’s brilliance often left him detached from others emotionally, his sharp mind sometimes blinding him to the vulnerability of those around him. But Hardcase... Hardcase seemed to understand the weight of the unsaid things, the quiet moments where words weren’t necessary, only understanding. It was a stark contrast to what she was used to, but in this moment, she found herself leaning into it.

“It’s... it’s okay,” she said quietly, glancing up at him as the remnants of her tension began to ebb. His concern wasn’t forced, it wasn’t because he thought he had to say something profound—it was simply because he cared, in his own, unpolished way. And for some reason, that felt easier to accept than anything Tech could offer right now.

“I didn’t think I’d be... here, like this,” Leena continued, her voice growing softer as she spoke. “I didn’t think things would get so complicated, you know? I didn’t think I’d feel like I’m... falling apart.”

Hardcase nodded slowly, his eyes understanding, but there was no pity in them. He didn’t look at her like a broken thing to be fixed. “Yeah, life has a way of throwing everything at you all at once. Makes it harder to keep your footing. But that doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

The words hung in the air between them, simple but impactful. Leena swallowed, her throat tight. She wasn’t sure why she was opening up like this—after all, she barely knew him. But in some strange way, his presence felt like the only thing holding her together in this moment. Maybe it was his unspoken kindness, his ability to let her just be, without judgment or expectation.

“Thanks,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the cloth, for the concern, or for not trying to fix her. Maybe it was all of it.

Hardcase smiled, his expression soft and genuine, the kind of smile that didn’t demand anything in return. “Anytime, Leena. Anytime.” His gaze shifted to the water in front of them, a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, before he turned back to her, his dark eyes meeting hers with quiet sincerity. “Can I walk you back to your place? I want to make sure you get there alright.”

Leena paused, her thoughts swirling. His offer was simple enough, but there was something in his tone that made it feel different from the usual gestures of kindness she’d grown accustomed to. It wasn’t pity, or some well-meaning obligation—it was just genuine, the kind of kindness that didn’t come with strings attached. For the first time in weeks, someone was being kind to her not because they had to, but because they wanted to. It felt... good.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift, just enough to breathe. She nodded, her throat tight as she forced a small, thankful smile. Hardcase rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his pants, and extended his hand to her. She took it, grounding herself in the steady strength of his grip. He didn’t push or try to fix anything—he simply offered his support, in the most human, uncomplicated way.

“Are you sure I’m not ruining your evening plans?” she asked after a pause, noticing in the corner of her eye that he'd changed into something a bit more polished than usual.

“I was already running behind to meet everyone at that gathering,” Hardcase replied with a shrug. “A few extra minutes won’t be a problem.”

Leena mulled over his words, feeling a flicker of relief at the thought that he, too, could be late for things. "It’s winding down, you know?" she added, almost absentmindedly.

“Yeah… got a bit distracted,” he admitted with a sheepish grin before quickly adding, “Not by you. Before I found you, I mean,” he reassured her.

“Oh?” she said, intrigued, happy for the distraction of his story and what might’ve caused him to be behind.

“Yeah, it’s kinda silly, actually,” he muttered, looking away, almost embarrassed.

“Nothing wrong with a little silly,” Leena replied after a beat, watching the way his features shifted at her words. There was something in the way she said it—maybe the quiet understanding in her voice—that made him open up.

“Well, there’s this moonyo that hangs around outside Jesse’s house. And I’m telling you, that little guy is great at finding hidden things... at least, that’s what I call them,” Hardcase said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. Leena noticed the way his voice had gotten a bit louder, likely due to his partial deafness—or maybe he’d always been a bit boisterous.

“Hidden things?” she asked softly, genuinely curious.

“Yeah. Hidden things. One time, I followed him to this alcove in the caves, and it was packed with all kinds of stolen stuff from around the island—clothes, little trinkets, all sorts of shiny objects. That moonyo’s a troublemaker,” he grinned, before his expression shifted to something more wistful. “Another time, he led me to this quiet spot by the water, a place no one really knows about. Anytime he’s hanging around, but then suddenly bolts off like he's on a mission... I just follow him.”

Leena chuckled, a gentle smile curling her lips. “You probably think it’s ridiculous. Following an ape around for no reason…”

“No, not at all,” she interrupted, meeting his eyes. “I think it’s sweet and…” She paused, searching for the right word, then added, “spontaneous.”

Hardcase’s eyes softened, the warmth of her approval settling over him. With a little nod, he continued, telling her more about the secret treasures his four-legged companion had led him to discover. 

As they walked side by side, the cobblestones beneath their feet rhythmically clicking with each step, Leena allowed herself to relax just a little. Hardcase’s words came in a steady stream—nothing heavy, just casual musings about random things: the weather, a funny incident from earlier that day, a strange looking cloud in the sky. His voice was calm and unassuming, filling the silence in a way that wasn’t overwhelming or uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of conversation she had with Tech—where every word had its weight and meaning—but it was nice. Simple, comforting.

Leena let herself get lost in the sound of his voice, her focus shifting away from the sharp edge of her pain for a moment. It wasn’t that the hurt was gone, but for the first time in days, she didn’t feel like it was choking her. She wasn’t fighting it. She wasn’t fighting anything. There was no expectation, no pressure—just the quiet comfort of someone walking with her, offering their company without expecting anything in return.

As they neared the house she’d been staying in since the split, Leena felt a pang in her chest, a mix of relief and sadness. This place had become her refuge and her prison all at once. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to stay there, or what would come next, but in this moment, with Hardcase walking beside her, she allowed herself to hope for just a bit of peace.

When they reached the doorstep, Hardcase gave her a final, casual nod. “Here you are. Safe and sound.”

She smiled, though it was a bittersweet one. “Thanks, Hardcase. Really. For everything.”

He shrugged, his smile light. “Like I said, anytime.”

Leena watched him turn to walk away, his figure growing smaller with each step. She stood in the doorway for a moment longer than she intended, feeling a mix of emotions well up in her chest—grief, gratitude, confusion—but most of all, a sense of being... understood. Not fixed. Not judged. Just understood.

Art by the lovely @leenathegreengirl!

"Now we are even" || The Introduction || Commander Wolffe x OFC! Perdita

Author's Note: I am so excited to drop the first installment of a story involving Commander Wolffe. This is my first time writing for him, and I won't lie, I cannot express how much I've enjoyed getting in his head. I want to thank my lovely and dear friend @leenathegreengirl for helping breathe life into not just Perdita through her art, but also this story at large. This was truly a whim in every fashion of the word, but as Bob Ross once said, there are no such things as mistakes, only happy little accidents. I am really proud of what bit's I've come up with this pair so far. I apologize for future works involving them, because while this is an introduction set after TBB, I plan to go back in time a bit (wouldn't be part of the Filoniverse if there wasn't chaos with the timing I suppose). Also I'm still racking my brain over a shipname so I'd love the suggestions... Any who, enjoy loves - M

Summary: A story as old as time itself. A Clone Commander. A Jedi. Two people bound by honor and duty. Lives defined by unwavering codes. But now, everything is shattered as the Empire orders the galactic execution of the once-peaceful warriors known as the Jedi. When Wolffe unexpectedly crosses paths with a fleeting figure from his past, he faces an agonizing choice. Will he obey the Empire’s command, or will he risk everything—his identity, his loyalty, and his future—in the desperate hope of rediscovering the man he once was?

Pairing: eventual Commander Wolffe x OFC! Perdita Halle

Warnings: Mentions of Order 66, Brief mentions of assisted suicide, angst with a hopeful ending

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist || Next Part (coming soon)

Wolffe often found the hum of space to be unnerving. Not that space itself had a hum—space was cold, dark, and empty. The hum came from the ship, a constant, low vibration that resonated through its walls, a reminder of its fragile protection against the infinite void outside. He hated this liminal space, this time spent outside planetary orbits, where nothing anchored him.

The vacuum had nearly claimed his life once. He could still feel it if he thought about it too long—the suffocating press of nothingness, the frozen tendrils of death creeping up his spine as his oxygen dwindled. The darkness had wrapped around him like a shroud, a cruel mockery of safety. Skywalker, his padawan and the Sentinel had pulled him back at the last moment, but something about him had stayed behind, left adrift in that endless void. He’d survived, but a part of him hadn’t.

He wondered, often, if death would feel the same. Cold. Empty. A silence so profound it swallowed everything. Or would it be something entirely different? Something warmer, like the faint memory of a sunrise on Kamino’s horizon or the strength of a brother’s arm slung across his shoulders after a battle well-fought?

Plo Koon had once told him that death was not the end but a transition—a merging with the living Force. The words had stayed with Wolffe, though he wasn’t sure if they brought comfort or dread. The concept was simple enough, but it opened too many questions. Would he still be himself in the Force? Would his memories, his regrets, his flaws follow him into that eternity?

And what of those he had lost? Would he see them again? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. The idea of facing the Jedi again, seeing their calm, unwavering gazes, filled him with an ache that felt too large to contain. He respected them deeply, but respect came with weight, and he often felt crushed beneath the burden of their trust. Undeserved, he thought. Always undeserved.

He stared out the viewport, watching stars streak by as the ship hurtled through hyperspace. The endless cascade of light reminded him of something—he wasn’t sure what. A memory tugged at the edges of his mind: Plo Koon standing beside him, hand on his shoulder, as they stared up at the night sky from a dusty outpost.

“There’s always light in the dark, Wolffe,” the Kel Dor had said, his voice steady, unshakable. “Even in the emptiest parts of space, the Force is alive.”

Wolffe had nodded then, silent as always. Even now, the words felt too far away. The darkness pressed in closer these days, even when he was surrounded by his squad, even when the hum of the ship reminded him he was still alive.

Maybe death was different for men like him—men who had taken orders, done what they had to, and carried the weight of it in silence. Maybe for him, death wouldn’t be a warm reunion with the Force but a cold, endless void, like the vacuum that had almost claimed him.

Maybe that was what he deserved.

He tightened his grip on the edge of the console, the familiar vibrations grounding him, even as the void outside seemed to call his name. The stars streaked on, indifferent to his musings, and he stayed where he was, caught between the hum of life and the silence of the dark.

Sure, right now he might be aboard an Imperial transport ship, tasked with carrying a highly dangerous prisoner marked for execution. But in his mind, he was still in the Abragado system, sitting in a pod, waiting. Waiting for the moment his life would be snuffed out in a war he neither fully understood nor had ever truly wanted to be part of.

He hadn’t believed Master Plo when the Jedi had reassured him, promising that someone would come looking for them. Wolffe had learned early on that he was expendable, a belief etched into him by the longnecks on Kamino. He was just another number, another body in an endless sea of soldiers bred for war.

Then came the Jedi. Their compassion, their respect, their quiet insistence on treating clones as individuals—it had shaken the very foundation of everything Wolffe thought he knew. In a world where duty and obedience were everything, where each clone was molded to fulfill a singular purpose, the Jedi had introduced something foreign—something that made him question the very core of his existence. 

Master Plo Koon, in particular, had made an inerasable impact. There was a quiet strength in the way he carried himself, an unspoken understanding that resonated with Wolffe on a level he hadn’t known was possible. Master Plo didn’t just command him; he listened—and more importantly, he understood. The way he treated Wolffe wasn’t like a subordinate or a mere tool of war, but as someone with thoughts, desires, and a sense of self. He spoke to him not as a soldier on the battlefield, but as a fellow being who had hopes, fears, and a need for connection.

When the order came, he didn't want to believe it. He hated how easily his finger had complied, how instinct had overridden thought. The words echoed in his mind, even now when he laid down for sleep: Good soldiers follow orders.

But in that moment, as Master Plo Koon’s starfighter plummeted from the sky, spiraling toward the ground in a fiery descent, Wolffe felt an emptiness unlike any he had ever known. It wasn’t just the shock of watching his commander, his ally, fall—it was the crushing realization that he was complicit in the destruction. The weight of betrayal was a heavy cloak around his shoulders, pressing down on him with unbearable force.

He had followed orders, as he always had, but this time, there was no duty, no justification that could soothe the gnawing ache in his chest. For so long, he had prided himself on his loyalty, on his ability to uphold the ideals of the Republic and the men he fought beside. But as the remnants of Plo Koon’s ship burned in the distance, Wolffe couldn’t help but feel that he had lost something far more vital than the life of a Jedi. He had lost the sense of himself as a man who stood for something honorable.

The world around him seemed to blur, the familiar sound of blaster fire and the chaos of war drowning out in the silence of his thoughts. For the first time, he saw the full, horrifying scope of what he had become—a tool of an Empire that had twisted everything he had once believed in. His identity, his purpose, had been shattered in that instant. As much as he wanted to believe he was still the same soldier, the same Commander, a part of him knew that he had crossed an irreparable line.

Wolffe had never felt further from the idea of being “good.” Not just because of the life he had taken, but because of the loss of the man he had been—the soldier who had once believed in the nobility of his cause.

The last time Wolffe truly felt in his heart that he had done the right thing was the night he learned Rex was still alive. He could still see Rex’s face—pleading, desperate, filled with a conviction that cut through Wolffe’s carefully constructed walls. Rex had begged him to see the truth, to understand that the Empire’s orders were wrong. That hunting a child wasn’t justice.

Wolffe had spent years trying—vainly, tirelessly—not to question his orders. He was a soldier. And good soldiers followed orders. 

But good soldiers didn’t hunt children or order their friends to be killed.

Good soldiers brought in criminal lowlifes, the kind of scum he now had locked in the brig, to justice. At least, that’s what Wolffe had assumed when the prisoner had been described to him as “highly dangerous.” But maybe it was his more recent desire to question his orders, or the way something about this mission didn’t sit right, that sparked the flicker of curiosity. Maybe it was the sentimentality he’d been battling since Rex’s reappearance, or the uneasy edge that always came with being in space.

Whatever the reason, he made a choice. He sent his men off for an early retreat, claiming he’d stand guard himself. He told himself it was for tactical reasons, but it wasn’t. It was personal.

Just like opening the cell door.

The door slid open with a low hiss, revealing a dimly lit chamber. Wolffe expected to see a hardened criminal, someone rough around the edges, beaten down by years of wrongdoing. Instead, his breath caught in his throat.

Seated on the floor, her back pressed against the cold wall, was a woman—young, though her posture bore the weight of someone who had seen more than her years should allow. She didn’t flinch or rise as the door opened, her bright green eyes snapping to him with an intensity that felt like a challenge. Even in the faint light, they glowed, piercing through him like a blade.

“Commander Wolffe,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, the hint of an edge betraying both recognition and caution.

He froze. His hand hovered near his blaster, not out of fear but reflex. “How do you know my name?” he asked, his tone sharp, though his heart hammered in his chest.

A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You don’t remember me, do you?” She shifted slightly, the movement revealing the scar that ran across her pale face, a jagged line that seemed out of place on her otherwise delicate features. “Not surprising. It was a lifetime ago.”

Wolffe’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. Her appearance tugged at a distant memory—a mission gone wrong, the deafening silence of space, and a bright flash of light. Falling out of the escape pod into waiting arms. Bright Green eyes. The scar.  His breath hitched as it clicked into place.

“The rescue,” he murmured. “Abregado.”

She inclined her head, her expression softened ever so slightly. “I was,” she said simply. “And now, here we are. Funny how the force works, isn’t it?”

His grip on the blaster faltered. This wasn’t a hardened criminal. This was a Jedi—a Sentinel, at that. She had pulled him from the pod, her face masked with the exception of her eyes. But he didn’t forget the voice, nor could he forget her scar.

He also didn’t forget the way she’d accompanied him to Aleen, attempting to calm his frustrations at the locals after the earthquake. He was built for combat, not a mercy mission. But she’d been there, calming that raging storm in him with her soft spoken words and delicate place of a hand on his skin. General Halle. Perdita. 

As he studied her features for the first time, he realized the shroud she had always worn concealed far more than he had anticipated. She had once explained to him that part of her trials as a padawan had been overcoming her vanity. After that moment, she had either been encouraged—or perhaps felt the need—to keep herself covered. The distinction between the two was significant, though he now found himself unable to recall which version of the truth it had been. The Jedi’s appearance had never been something he had been allowed to fully see, and so witnessing her efforts to hold her shoulders and chin high under his gaze felt wrong. Not that he hadn't been curious—he had. But seeing more than just those bright eyes and that scar across her face felt intrusive, as though he were crossing an unseen boundary.

Seeing her now, with her ghostly pale skin, so light that it was as if it had never touched sunlight. Her hair, equally fair, was a tangled mess of long braids and matted strands, though the right side was sheared close to her scalp, hinting at the harshness of the life she had experienced. Bruises etched into her neck, a testament to her resilience, showing that she hadn’t been easily subdued.

She was far more delicate than he’d imagined for someone of her position. She didn’t match the mental image he had formed of the woman who had once saved his life with her luminous eyes and sharp voice. Yet, in her very features, there was a contradiction that unsettled him. Her soft, pale skin was marred by a jagged scar that seemed to tell a story of its own. Her long hair clashed with the shock of short strands that spoke of some past confrontation. Her gentle eyes, framed by dark kohl. Her delicate lips—so soft and inviting—contradicted the clipped, controlled tone of her voice.

There was a complexity to her, an unsettling blend of contradictions, and it was that stark difference between appearance and reality that made her all the more enigmatic.

Not to mention, she truly was much more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Even after their brief conversation together. He’d wondered, but to see it in front of him now, he found words difficult on his tongue. 

She wasn’t like most Jedi. Distant. Quiet. She wasn’t one to preach or stand at the frontlines of politics. Instead, she focused on the people of the Republic, working directly with them in ways that often went unnoticed, or at the Council’s rare request. But she was no stranger to rebellion either. He remembered how she’d stormed away when General Skywalker's padawan had been placed on trial—angry, in a way that Wolffe found unexpected. He had always been told Jedi were supposed to rise above emotions, especially anger. Yet here she was, as human as anyone else.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the weight of his own disillusionment pressing down on him. “Why would the Empire want you dead?”

Her smile disappeared, replaced by a shadowed expression. “Because I am breathing,” she said, her tone defensive. “And because that’s enough to be a threat to the Empire,”

Wolffe’s stomach churned. He wanted to call her a liar, to draw his blaster and end the conversation, but something about her words rooted him in place. She didn’t move, didn’t press further, as if sensing the storm inside him.

However, her eyes flashed with realization, and Wolffe felt the rare tug in his mind. He wasn’t immune to it. The Jedi, though usually respectful of a clone’s privacy, occasionally breached that unspoken boundary—usually in moments of intense concern. His thoughts became muddled, a fog settling over his mind, and in that instant, he knew. She had used the Force to reach into his mind.

“They sent you to hunt a child,” she said, her voice softening, almost mournful. “And now they’ve sent you to deliver me for my execution. How much longer are you going to follow orders, Commander?”

The words struck him harder than he expected, the weight of her gaze pinning him where he stood. For a moment, he didn’t feel like the soldier standing guard. He felt like the man adrift in the pod, lost in the silence of space, waiting for someone to find him.

He exhaled sharply, the silence broken by the harshness of his words. “What do you expect me to do? Not following orders makes you a traitor,” he spat.

She stared at him for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. “You’ve already disobeyed more than one order, haven’t you?” Her tone shifted, probing deeper. “Tell me, Wolffe—or do you prefer your number now? Should I respect the identity the Empire has forced upon you? After all, you seem so eager to follow their commands, to remain obedient, even if it means abandoning everything else.”

Wolffe’s jaw clenched as her words hit home, each syllable sharp, cutting through the layers of his resolve. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers twitching at his side, but he refused to let her see the crack in his metaphorical armor.

"I follow orders," he said, his voice tight. "It's what I was made for. It's what we all were made for. You think I like this? You think I want to be this?" He gestured vaguely toward his armor, the cold, sterile shell that defined him as much as his number did. "The Empire... they gave us purpose. A place in this galaxy. A role. And what do you want me to do, General Halle? Turn my back on that? After everything?"

She took a slow step forward, her eyes unwavering, assessing him like she always had. He could feel the pull of the Force, a subtle pressure against his mind. She wasn’t pushing, but her presence lingered, and it was almost like she could see through him.

“I’m not asking you to abandon your past, Wolffe,” she said, her voice softer now, though the challenge remained. “I’m asking you to remember it. To remember who you were before the Empire twisted everything. You have never been just a number.”

Her words settled into the space between them, heavy with meaning, and Wolffe felt something shift deep inside him—a faint stirring he didn’t want to acknowledge. He had spent so long burying that part of himself, the part that still remembered loyalty to something more than orders. But now, in her presence, in the weight of her gaze, it felt like the walls he had built up around himself were starting to crack.

"You think I can just walk away?" he muttered, almost to himself. "That it’s that simple? The wars, the lies..." He paused, the words thick in his throat. "I don’t even know who I am anymore."

Perdita’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes. She took another step toward him, this time with less certainty. She didn’t reach out, but the gesture was enough.

“You can always start again, find a new purpose, and maybe along the way find who you once were. I know you Wolffe. You are a good man. You always have been,” she commented quietly.

Wolffe didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the hum of the transport ship’s engines. The weight of his own thoughts pressed on him like an anchor, dragging him deeper into the abyss of uncertainty. He didn’t know what the right choice was. But standing here, facing the Jedi, he felt something stir in him that hadn’t been there for a long time.

The man he had been—the man before the Empire—was still there. Somewhere.

But could he still find his way back? Or was he already too far gone?

The question lingered, unanswered, and it gnawed at him from the inside out. The conflict within him was too great, an overwhelming surge of doubt and guilt. He was lost between what he felt and what he knew. He knew the Jedi were kind, compassionate—humane in a way the Empire could never be. But there was another part of him, the part shaped by years of conditioning, of following orders without question. The part that told him Jedi were the enemy, that they had betrayed him, betrayed all of them.

Even if she was correct, he didn’t feel he deserved a second chance.

"Stop," he snapped, his voice low and harsh, barely containing the fury building within him. "You're twisting my mind. That's why all you Jedi were executed." He spat the words, stepping back as if to escape the heavy weight of his own thoughts.

But Perdita’s gaze didn’t falter. Her eyes flashed with frustration—and something else. It was the same intensity that had pulled him from the wreckage of the Abregado system all those years ago. The depth her eyes had shown when he’d looked into them deeply under the glow of the setting sun on Aleen. The same ferocity that made her a Jedi in a way he could never fully understand.

“Did you pull the trigger yourself, Wolffe?” she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the haze in his mind.

His eyes widened. “What—?”

“Master Plo.” She took a step closer, her bound hands held out in front of her, as if she were trying to approach him without triggering some kind of defense mechanism. “Did you take the shot yourself?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His mind flashed back to that day, to the moment when it all went wrong. The blast rang out, and Plo Koon had fallen, silent and still.

“I didn’t—” Wolffe started, his voice shaking. “I didn’t want to…”

But she was relentless, her voice a hiss, her anger barely contained. “Did you pull the trigger yourself, or did you let one of your men do it for you? Did you stand by while they carried out the order?”

Wolffe’s heart pounded in his chest. She was right. He hadn’t pulled the trigger, not directly. He hadn’t been the one to execute the order. But he had been there. He had stood by calling the order while his brothers did the work. His hands had been tied by duty, by obedience and the relentless weight of his training. 

Her words cut deeper than he expected, and for the first time in years, he felt a crack in the armor he had spent so long building. The Jedi saw through him in a way no one else had in a long time.

“No,” Wolffe said, his voice heavy with bitterness. “Boost did it. Shot down the starfighter,” he explained with a dramatic sigh, as though the memory still weighed on him like a stone in his chest.

Perdita’s gaze never left him, unyielding. “Why?” she pressed, her voice soft but insistent, searching for the truth behind his words.

Wolffe hesitated, his eyes darkening with the weight of the past. “Because I couldn’t. Because I was weak…” His voice trailed off, thick with shame. He had always prided himself on being strong, unwavering. But in that moment, when the world seemed to fall apart around him, he had faltered.

“To lay down arms is not weakness,” she replied, her tone calm but firm, as though she had spoken those words to herself a thousand times.

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Says the woman marked for execution,” he muttered, a sharp edge in his voice. His gaze flickered toward her, searching for the woman who had once saved him, who had risked everything to pull him from the wreckage when all seemed lost. The memory stung.

“You saved my life once,” he reminded her, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mix of gratitude and regret.

“I did,” Perdita agreed, her eyes softening, but her expression remained steady. “And now, may I ask one favor of you? A simple one, so that we can finally be even?”

Wolffe raised an eyebrow, the weight of her words sinking in slowly. There was something in the way she said it, something that made him pause. 

“Kill me,” she whispered solemnly, her words cutting through the silence like a blade.

Wolffe froze, his breath hitching in his chest. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t even process what she had just said. Kill me? The weight of those words landed on him with a staggering force, and for the first time since they’d started this uneasy exchange, his mind went utterly blank.

“W-What?” he stammered, confusion and disbelief mixing with a knot of panic that twisted deep inside him.

Perdita’s gaze never wavered, though there was a deep sadness in her eyes, a quiet resignation that tugged at something buried within him. She didn’t look like someone who feared death. In fact, she looked like someone who had made peace with it long ago.

“Kill me, Wolffe,” she repeated, her voice soft, but heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken things. “Where you are taking me is a fate worse than death,”

The words hit Wolffe like a punch to the gut. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he absorbed the depth of what she was saying. She was asking him to end her life, to release her from the nightmare that had followed her since the purge, since the fall of the Jedi. He could hear the quiet despair in her voice, the resignation that she had already accepted that no other option was left.

"Stop," he snapped, stepping forward with a sharpness he hadn't meant. His hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Don't say that."

Perdita’s eyes flickered to his, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability breaking through her hard exterior. "It's the truth," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve lived through so much betrayal, Wolffe. I’ve seen what the Empire does to those it deems 'enemy’, it’s not a pretty sight I assure you"

Wolffe’s breath caught in his throat as he processed her words. He had heard whispers of the horrors of the Empire, the ruthless efficiency of its cruelty, but hearing it from her—someone who had once been who had fought beside the clones and now found herself hunted—made the reality of it all feel sharper.

“It’s not fair for you to ask that of me,” he demanded, his voice tightening with frustration. The very thought of it made him nauseous. To kill an unarmed woman—especially a prisoner—was not only unjust, it would be a betrayal of everything he had ever stood for. It could lead him to a court-martial, or worse.

“Why not,” she demanded.

Her words struck him harder than he expected. The Empire had already claimed so much from him—his autonomy, his sense of purpose, his very soul at times. But now, the reality of what she was saying pressed against him like a vise. Was he just another pawn? Would he become expendable too, the moment they had no more use for him?

“I’m not one of them,” he said, his voice a mixture of defiance and doubt. He wasn’t, was he?

But Perdita only stared at him, her expression unreadable. “You’re more like them than you think,” she whispered. “You’ve followed their orders. You’ve done their bidding. And now… now you want to pretend you don’t have a choice in what happens to me. Pretend I got free, tried to kill your men. I’m a threat am I not? Is that not what they told you? Please Wolffe. I do not wish to suffer needlessly. However if your resignation truly is with the Empire then I suppose you truly do not have a choice.”

Wolffe took a step back, his breath quickening. She was right in one sense—he had followed orders, too many times without question. But was that enough to define him? Was that all he was now? A soldier for an Empire that cared nothing for his humanity? Or worse, the humanity of others.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I still have a choice.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wavering just slightly. “Then make it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Should he kill her? Should he let her go? Should he risk everything? How much more guilt would he carry in delivering her to whatever fate she had foreseen? She was asking him to do something impossible, something that could destroy him just as easily as it would destroy her.

But the longer he looked at her, the clearer it became. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It wasn’t just about doing what was expected or what was easy. This was about redemption—for her, for him, for them both.

“I won’t kill you,” he said, the words steady but heavy. His eyes darted around. The cybernetic one struggling to see in the dimly lit cell as he searched for the control panel on the wall. 

Perdita didn’t respond, assuming he was ready to leave and her last attempt at peace, foiled by a clone who truly owed her little loyalty. As she prepared for his departure she felt the chains around her hands unlock, before falling away. Flexing her fingers she looked up to see him much closer now as he tugged her forearm.

“But I won’t let them take you, either.” His voice was low, almost aggressive in nature, as if he was revolting against the very action he was taking.

Perdita didn’t smile. She didn’t thank him. She just nodded, the flicker of something like hope passing through her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give him the courage to take the next step—whatever that might be.

“Why?” she asked, her voice calm, though it carried the weight of disbelief. She paused for a moment, taking a breath to collect herself in the wake of his unexpected actions.

Wolffe met her gaze briefly, then dropped his eyes to the floor, his attention lingering on the mud caked on the tops of his boots. After a moment, he lifted his gaze to hers again, his eyes scanning hers as if unsure whether to reveal the truth. Yet, in this moment—after throwing caution to the wind—it seemed honesty was the only option.

The problem? He wasn’t entirely certain himself. Of course, he had theories. Wolffe had been searching for a way out of the Empire ever since that night he crossed paths with Rex. Having a Jedi by his side would significantly increase his chances of desertion. So, part of his reasoning, at least, was rooted in a tactical advantage.

But then, as his gaze fell on her face, resting on the scar that marked her eye, something else surfaced. He remembered how much he owed her—how she had been the one to help locate their damaged pod. Without her, he would have been lost to the cold expanse of space. A debt like that, a life saved, demanded more than mere gratitude—it demanded something deeper.

“You saved my life once, General,” he said, though internally he wanted to slam his head into the durasteel wall. He knew that she had done so more than once—countless times, in fact, for him and his brothers. “Consider us even,” he added, his words laced with a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

After a brief pause, he heard the soft sound of her approach. Her arm brushed against his unintentionally as she spoke, her voice steady but curious. “What’s your plan?”

Wolffe felt the faintest stir at the brush of her arm, but he quickly focused on her words. He turned slightly, his gaze meeting hers, but there was a momentary hesitation in his expression. The question hung in the air, heavy with more than just the immediate answer.

He knew she wasn’t just asking about the details or the strategy—she was asking what came next, what he planned to do with everything that had led them to this moment. He could feel the weight of her question, the uncertainty that hung heavily in the air between them.

For a moment, he stayed silent, his mind racing through countless possibilities, each one more uncertain than the last. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but tinged with the weight of the decision. "It’s a long shot, but I think it might work. You’ll have to trust me on this." He met her gaze, a quiet resolve in his eyes. "As for everything else, we’ll improvise—if we make it out of here."

"Alright. After you, Commander—"

"Wolffe," he interjected, his voice flat, almost terse. The weight of the moment pressed down on him—the knowledge that he was about to turn his back on everything he had ever known, to abandon the man he had been for so long. It felt like an impossible choice, and yet it was the only one left. In the face of such a drastic break, being addressed by his rank felt distant, cold, and impersonal. It was as though the uniform, the title, had become a mask for something that no longer fit him.

She paused for a moment, as if sensing the shift in the air between them. Her gaze met his, a flicker of understanding in her eyes before she nodded slightly, her voice equally dry, yet carrying a certain weight of its own. "Lead the way, Wolffe."

Her words, though simple, held a quiet acknowledgment—an acceptance of the change that had already begun. Neither of them needed to say more. The decision had been made, and whatever path lay ahead, it would be walked side by side.

To be continued...

(Also if you made it this far thank you so much! Below is the unedited image of Perdita courtesy of my lovely friend… you can find her bio HERE, on her page! Additionally, I may start a tag list soon so if anyone's interested just drop a comment or shoot me a DM <3!)

Day 9 - Tech and Leena

For many, the holidays are about traditions, connecting with family and loved ones or feeling spiritual reprieve. For Tech… it often becomes a day off from the normal hustle and bustle of his life. A chance to relax 😌 💚💕

AO3 format can be found here!

Event Masterlist

(As always, thank you my very dear friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is the beautiful mind behind ALL the writing, design layout, post editing and song selections! I couldn’t have done any of this without her!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream