Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If the Senators could stop trying to get themselves killed for half a second maybe Commander Fox could use it to rest and Thire would stop riding his ass about his sleep habits. But Fox was never that lucky. If it wasn’t Separatist attacks it was political rivalries or mysterious assassins, and if it wasn’t any of those it was privileged stupidity that kept landing his charges in danger. Fox would be lying if he denied that, once in a while, it was tempting to let nature take it’s course. Like when Senator Baab not-so-subtly threatened Senator Amidala within earshot of the Jedi General she was kriffing. Or when Senator Nian booked himself a night at a brothel in District T-69 using his real name and found himself held for ransom there instead. But if harm came to any them, the circumstances wouldn’t matter. The Guard would be punished, and Fox wouldn’t stand for that, so long as he could help it.

So Fox did his duty for the sake of his men, regardless of who the Senator was, how much of their predicament was self-inflicted, or the number of shifts he had already pulled in a row. 

He sank down into his chair in his cold duracrete office with another cup of stale caf. As of now, he was on his third consecutive shift, and the emergencies had piled in as quickly as the datapads accumulating on his desk. If he could just get through a few of the more urgent ones in the next hour without another interruption or a summons from the Chancellor, maybe he could get half a night’s sleep and avoid hearing about it from Thire…

An escort squad was needed for Senator Tepin’s upcoming visit to Alderaan. Request Approved.

A visiting dignitary was set to arrive in five days time as a personal guest of the Chancellor’s. Fox’s presence was required. Request Approved. As if he really had a choice.

Senator Nian wanted a guard for personal security in light of his incident in District T-69. 

Fox groaned. It was a common enough request, but he had requested a specific trooper, CT-3744. Ash, Fox realized with dread.

That was never good.

He pushed that datapad aside and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into his temples. The reason the Senator wanted Ash hardly mattered. One of his men had mentioned that Ash was acting strange lately, and Senators like Nian were exactly the reason why all of Fox’s precautions with the guard were necessary in the first place, from keeping their helmets on to identifying themselves by numbers only. Experience and instinct told the Commander that the two things couldn’t possibly be coincidence. He couldn’t approve the request, but he would have to get creative in order to deny it without making matters worse…

It would take time and a much clearer head for him to work out what to do about it, though. For now, he reached for the next datapad.

Which was the next quarter’s spending budget, of course. Fox frowned. The numbers blurred together in his exhausted state, but even at first glance, they seemed lower than usual despite the recent military spending increase -

A sudden buzzing jerked his attention away from the tablet. Urgent message. Because what else could it be? The code came from a private guard. Fox reluctantly accepted.

Intruder in the Senate building, spotted in ventilation system above Senator Chuchi’s office, East Wing, Level 16. 

Karabast. Fox leapt from his desk automatically and pulled on his bucket. If this wasn’t the fourth karking emergency today...

“Mole,” He spat into his comms, “We have a 1204. Report to E16 with your squad and prepare for plan 48. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Copy!” 

Fox gritted his teeth. Senators really couldn’t go more than half a kriffing second without trying to get themselves killed, even the good ones. He really wasn’t getting any sleep again tonight. Thire would throttle him.

---

In position, Commander Fox sent the message to Senator Chuchi’s personal guard as he listened in through the open line. He and Sergeant Mole’s squad waited at attention, blasters set to stun, for the moment he drew the Pantoran Senator away from the intruder’s line of sight.

“A secure communication just came in, Senator,” he heard her guard lie through the comms. There was a pause, a few footsteps, and the smallest whispered “Now.”

Fox gave the signal and the squad burst through the doors! They stormed towards the center of the room, firing stunners at the vents in hopes of hitting the intruder before he ran into Sergeant Mole overhead.

“Enough! All exits are blocked,” Fox barked. “You’re surrounded, don’t try-”

“He’s trying!”

“He won’t get far.” 

Thunk. 

“Got ‘em!” Mole’s voice echoed from above. 

Fox’s mouth twisted into a hollow grin beneath his helmet. It was already over, clean and simple. Good. The report he filed on this incident would reflect well on his men, and he wouldn’t even have to omit anything to make sure of it.

“Bring him back this way. Let’s see what he’s been up to,” Fox called up to the Sergeant with a quick glance towards Senator Chuchi and her guard in the corner. Essix was over with them. He frowned. Essix had become more comfortable with the Pantoran Senator than he would prefer. The good ones still caused problems for the Guard, even if unintentional, like this. It was something Fox knew all too well, but he pulled his attention back to the task at hand as a blue Rodian fell unceremoniously from the vents above in a cloud of dust. 

Fox grimaced, slapping a pair of binders around his wrists. Something fell out of the man’s hands as he did, and Fox narrowed his eyes. A holo-recorder?

A second later Mole dropped down at his side, landing on his feet.  “Tell me he’s not an assassin,” Mole whispered to Fox. “Essix might blast him on the spot if he is.”

“Essix might be too attached to the Pantoran Senator, then,” Fox grumbled, rifling through the Rodian’s pockets for anything else telling.

“Can’t blame him,” Mole muttered.

“I can, actually.”

But Mole shook his head ever so slightly as he dusted off his armor. “With all due respect, Commander, it’s not just because she takes him to debates. Sounds like she’s working to get us all protections. Dunno if it’ll work, but-”

Fox made a sharp gesture for him to shut the hell up. He didn’t need to know anything more, in fact, he shouldn’t, it was dangerous. She would probably never be successful, he’d never hope for that, but if word got out about such a thing? If somehow Essix and Mole both knew? He glanced down at the Rodian, at the holo recorder, and his mind raced. Even running on half a ration bar, dubious amounts of caf, and three hours of sleep over a day ago, the Commander was nothing if not quick-witted, and there was little time to decide on the best course of action to protect his men. Senator Chuchi was approaching them now, looking determined.

“Thank you for your quick response, Sir,” the Senator spoke in what could pass for a respectful tone. “Do you know what it is that he wanted with me? Have you found anything of importance?”

“He isn’t an assassin, Senator, for what it’s worth,” Commander Fox answered even as his mind reeled through the options. “But you may want to take a look at this,” He said decisively, settling on the best one as he dropped the holo-recorder into her hands. If it contained what he thought it might, it would be better if he never saw the contents, if no one besides Senator Chuchi herself saw them. Fox knew better than to rely on luck, but if his cunning prevented the information from reaching the Chancellor…

“We’ll take him into custody and send him for questioning when he comes around,” Fox stated, knowing full well he would have to conduct such questioning himself in order to keep Mole and Essix out of it now. “Will you require additional protection while my men investigate?”

“I - Yes. Please,” The Senator asked, clearly still flustered. “Ah… Which of your troops will be assigned to my security detail?”

Fox scowled beneath his helmet where she couldn’t see his face. Clearly, she was hoping for Essix, and even if she wasn’t anything like Senator Nian, making requests like that was never a good sign. Never. They set a dangerous precedent and were difficult to justify denying, so even if one Senator had pure intentions (an almost laughable idea), the next trooper to catch a Senator’s interest might not be so lucky…

But Senator Chuchi’s request didn’t come. She only looked at Fox expectantly… nervously, even. It didn’t go so far as to make him sympathetic to her, she was still a Senator, but the longer he paused and the longer she simply waited for his answer… Karabast. An idea popped into his head, the kind born of sleep deprivation and caf addiction but an idea nonetheless. Even Fox himself had to categorize her as one of the good ones as far as Senators went or he would have moved Essix’s station long ago, and if she really was working on a bill for clone protections?

“CT-3749, CT-3744,” He addressed Essix and Ash, working hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice at what he was resorting to. “You’re being officially re-assigned to protect Senator Chuchi during the course of this investigation.”

An investigation which may go on for some time, if it keeps Ash out of Senator Nian’s slimy hands, he thought wryly.

“Her safety is your primary directive. Report any unusual activity directly to me.”

“Yes sir,” They spoke in unison. 

Fox briefly glanced down at the unconscious Rodian who Mole was holding at blasterpoint before turning back to the Senator with narrowed eyes. No kriffing way should one moment of not asking a stupid question be enough to justify this, but she wasn’t Senator Nian, and right now, this was the best way he could protect his men. 

“Senator,” He said as professionally as he could muster, “If you need any additional assistance or require us, please contact me directly. I’m CC-1010, or Commander Fox, if you prefer.”

“Thank you, all of you,” She smiled at them.

“It’s our duty, Senator,” Commander Fox said, biting back sarcasm and signaling the rest of the men to move out before he came up with any more grand ideas in his exhausted state.

---

Fox had technically started a fourth shift by the time he made his return to his gray duracrete office to file the incident report with a deep scowl on his face. Four karking emergencies in one day… Or two days, technically, if he counted the hours. He would need another cup of caf before returning to the pile of datapads. The moment he rounded the corner and faced his own office door, though, he was faced with a hell worse than any of the incidents that transpired since he last slept.

“How many hours has it been this time?” Thire growled. Even with the helmet on, Fox could see the expression on his brother’s face.

“Doesn’t matter,” Fox muttered, rolling his eyes.

“How many?”

“None of your kriffing business.”

“Yeah? Hound says you didn’t make it back to the barracks last night,” Thire glowered. “Keep this up and I’ll get Stitch involved, again.”

Fox bristled at that, but tried not to let it show. It was bad enough his men had realized their medic technically outranked their Commander in certain situations and could even order sedation if he deemed it necessary for his health. The last thing he needed was for them to make a habit of getting him involved.

“Yeah, thought so,” Thire said triumphantly.

“I just have one report to file,” Fox grumbled. “Then I'll turn in.” 

Thire stared him down. “One report,” He conceded. “Then I’m escorting you back to the barracks myself.”

Fox nodded silently and stepped inside. The operation had gone smoothly anyways. It didn’t take long to punch in the details, noting the important parts and keeping the entire report as boring as possible so as not to draw any unnecessary attention.

He sent it off, satisfied, and set the datapad down, then reached for another.

“You said one,” Thire warned.

“This will only take a second,” Fox snapped back, greedily snatching up Senator Nian’s request. After all he had been through in the past forty-something hours, he deserved to end the day with this small satisfaction, the closest he could get to telling a sha'buir to kark off.

Request Denied.

Chapter Text

Nox? Come in, Vaughn’s voice crackled with urgency over the comms. We have a situation.

The message should have jolted Nox out of a much needed sleep at this hour, but no karking way was Nox sleeping tonight. Every time he closed his eyes, despite his best efforts to block it all out, he saw Umbara. Barrages of blaster bolts flying in the dark, luminescent vines and tentacles writhing and striking out, his vode dying-

“Yes?” He hissed back, swinging off the raised bunk as quietly as he could so as not to disturb any of the men who had managed to fall asleep around him in the barracks of the ship. He shook his head clear. For Vaughn to call during the sleep cycle like this couldn’t mean anything good, so he couldn’t be dwelling on that. He needed to be strong. Calm. Practical. Like a good medic should be.

Spicy snack. Room LR309. Hurry.

Nox’s stomach clenched. He had been right. 

“On my way.” 

And Karabast, he added in his own head, grabbing his med kit in a hurry. There was no point bothering with his weapons or armor before he rushed out the door, pounding down the dimly-lit halls in his blacks.

This was the second spicy snack issue since they hit hyperspace. Far more men than usual had been succumbing to breakdowns after their most recent battle, breakdowns that Nox and Kix and the rest of the clone medics tried hard to keep under wraps while keeping their heads in check themselves. The clones were supposed to be made better than this, supposed to be able to withstand the mental toll of war, at least according to the long-necks who created them. But after what happened on Umbara? After Krell?

Nox could hardly blame a trooper for trying to eat their blaster.

He caught a lift, punching incessantly at the buttons until it hummed and began to rattle downwards. Nox drummed his fingers against his med kit and focused on his next steps. 

This was going to be another hyperauxossis diagnosis, at least officially, since that was the most convenient excuse to get a vod the treatment they needed without involving the Kaminoan doctors. No one yet had questioned why someone might need anti-depressants or anxiety medication or anything else he came up with in order to combat the effects of fast-growing bones. Now, though, Nox was running low on those medications himself. He had already diagnosed more men with hyperauxossis since Umbara than he had after any of their previous deployments…

The lift shuttered to a stop. Nox bolted from it, focused, his eyes flicking over the durasteel-grey doorways in the bowels of the ship as he went. 306, 307… 309! He punched the access panel and the solid door whirred open.

Two men, Sterling and Mattox, had their arms wrapped around a shaking shiny, simultaneously comforting and restraining him. Vaughn sat crouched on the ground opposite them with his arm around a distraught young trooper who Nox didn’t recognize. A blaster lay against one wall, probably kicked out of reach. The moment Nox entered the room all eyes snapped to him, and Vaughn’s face flooded with relief.

“Nox,” Vaughn breathed, jerking his head towards the others. “It’s Crater.”

Nox nodded solemnly, though his heart plummeted. Crater. He knew that name, the trooper had come fresh from Kamino and Umbara had been his very first battle…

“Crater,” He said evenly, trying hard to keep the heaviness from his voice. “Why don’t we talk? Tell me what’s going on, vod.”

“Nothing to tell,” Crater tried to snarl, but it came out strained and exhausted. “Just cleaning my blaster, that’s all.”

“Down here? Alone? Crying? Pointed at your face with the safety off?” The shiny who Vaughn had been consoling spoke up in an accusatory tone.

Crater scowled, staring hard at the floor, but a deep burning red flushed his cheeks. “I… I wasn’t actually gonna…”

“Well if you were,” Nox offered gently, “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

Crater shut his mouth and glared at the floor.

“Whatever happened here, we aren’t going to report it. Crater, look at me - We know better than to involve the long-necks. This doesn’t make you defective. Understand?” He continued, waiting for the shiny to meet his eyes, and after a moment, he did. “No one here is going to let you be decommissioned, either. We’re all brothers, you’re one of us now, and we protect our own. But I need you to help me out and tell me what’s really going on. Can you do that?”

Slowly, quietly, Crater seemed to consider the words. He gave Nox an almost imperceptible nod. “I -,” He whispered, his voice small and thick. “How can I fight with the 501st? I’m a vod-killer.”

Sterling and Mattox loosened their deadlock grips now that he was talking, almost as if they had done this far too many times before, but Nox felt a sick pang in his gut at the words. He halfway expected to hear something like this, but that didn’t make it any less cutting after…

“Tell me why you say that,” Nox spoke calmly, in spite of his own feelings.

“We fired on the 212th!” He cried. “We killed our own brothers! I killed my own brothers! And I know it was Krell but I - I was glad to!” 

Nox furrowed his brow and took a deep breath. No, no, this wasn’t about him. This was about Crater. He had to focus on Crater.

“Glad to?” He asked, gulping down the lump in his throat. “Can you explain that a little more?”

“I saw them go down,” He said, his voice stronger but full of venom and hatred. “And it felt good. I thought I was proving myself, taking down the enemy but - But it was them! My first kills were my brothers and it felt good and no matter how much I regret it now that isn’t going away! It’s burned in my head, I feel sick, all the time, I can’t shake it. My batchmate died out there, my brother, Shams…” He took a trembling breath as his voice hitched. “And what if it was me? What if I killed him, what if I felt good killing him!?”

His assurances to himself weren’t working anymore. Nox couldn’t breathe. 

Focus, He thought fiercely over the buzz of those words in his head, Keep Crater talking! But his own words wouldn’t come, his throat was tight, something heavy pulsed against his chest in the silence -

“Sir? Are you… Okay?”

He wasn’t. He tried so hard to be what the others needed after Umbara, tried to rely on the things he read in that mental health manual he illegally downloaded years ago on Kamino in order to help his fellow cadets, but too often it wasn’t enough. Nox was no mind-healer. He didn’t always know what to do, even if he knew better than most, and now, with those words echoing in his head all over again, with images of Boulder crumpling in the darkness under Nox’s own shot, that twinge of satisfaction that he too felt as his brother fell -

“I’m sorry Sir, I shouldn’t-”

“No,” Nox cut him off hoarsely, snapping his head up to meet Crater’s gaze despite the stinging at the corner of his own eyes. Kriff. He hadn’t been able to help himself through these very thoughts so how the hell was he supposed to help the poor struggling shiny?

But Mattox let out a shaky sigh, still gripping Crater’s arm to keep him steady, and abruptly looked down at the floor, avoiding Nox’s eyes. Behind him the other shiny let out a small hiccup, and he heard Vaughn mutter something soothing under his breath…

His best wasn’t going to be enough this time, not for any of them. It was going to take something more. Nox took hold of Crater’s hands, steeling himself to be raw, be honest.

“Don’t apologize. I’m not okay... None of us are,” He admitted. “You’re not alone in those feelings, vod. But we all need each other now, if we’re going to face them. And that includes you. Because that,” Nox jerked his head towards the blaster on the floor, “Isn’t the answer. Krell is dead, but we’re not about to let him claim one more of our brothers.”

A collective sharp gasp rose up in the room, but Nox kept his eyes firmly on Crater, blinking away the water from his own eyes to see clearly. The shiny’s expression was frozen and wet, but slowly, something different flickered behind his eyes. His face crumpled and he nodded vigorously. Sterling and Mattox loosened their grip and Crater fell forward into Nox’s arms.

Nox closed his eyes and held on tight as the trooper’s sobs racked his body, and he ached. He knew these feelings. He knew what it took to push a Clone Trooper to a breaking point amidst the pressure to stay strong and unshakable like they were made to be, and Umbara had done it. Krell had done it.

But Nox would keep fighting for his brothers, no matter the battle. He would find a way to stay strong for them, to be a safe place for them, to get them help, like he always had... And it helped that now Nox had a safe place of his own, too. He only needed to hold on a little longer and he would be back there, in Luz's arms.

Chapter Text

No hiding place at 79’s was perfect, but there was an alcove down the hall and past the freshers that provided good enough cover for this. Boomerang only wanted a few minutes of privacy, a few minutes to be close to his beautiful Rena in the dark, to hold her, to hear her voice over the loud thumping music from the bar. As if by hiding here he could focus, savor the time, commit these feelings to memory before deploying, again. It was entirely too soon. It always was. And as many times as he had turned on a charming smile and insisted that he would Always Come Back, it was still war. There were no guarantees. Boomerang might be the luckiest bastard in the GAR so far, but he wasn’t a di’kut.

Rena’s lips met his own, though, interrupting his thoughts and turning his attention fully back to her. She pulled him closer, tracing a hand along his cheek with a devious grin. Boomerang chuckled low and kissed her eagerly in return. Something fluttered in his chest with excitement. Just because this started as a quiet reprieve from the party outside didn't mean it had to stay that way, did it?

“Kriff,” Boomerang said, taking a breath as they pulled apart for the briefest moment. “Kriff Mesh'la, I love you so much.”

Rena froze. Boomerang paused what he was doing instantly, meeting her eyes just in time to see something in them shutter closed.

“...Mesh'la?” He asked, concern creeping into his voice. “I’m… I’m sorry. Was that too much?”

To his horror, Rena’s lower lip began to tremble. Her words shook a little as she spoke. “You… Really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Boomerang answered without thinking, worry and confusion flooding his mind. He moved his hand to cup her arm, to steady her. “I mean, it kind of slipped out but, how could I not?”

Rena shook her head. “You… shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I thought I was just… I mean… I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“And you… you don’t?”

“I’m leaving Coruscant soon,” She admitted in a small voice. “This isn’t fair to you.”

Boomerang made an involuntary, wounded sound. On his last mission, his squad had been sent to an ice-covered moon of some sort. They had wished for snow. At least snow was soft, unlike the ice, which had been jagged and splintered like glass. No one came away without at least one deep laceration from shards that found their way between the plates of their armor to slice through their blacks.

Somehow, those words cut colder and deeper than the cursed ice.

“Well - I’m leaving soon too!” He blurted out in protest, his heart in his throat. “I leave all the time but I always come back, maybe-”

“I’m not coming back from this.”

“I-”

“Please,” She cut him off, pulling away. “I - I never meant for it to go this far, please just… You didn’t mean that, okay? Forget about me.”

Before he could process or react or even think, she had slipped from his embrace, leaving him alone in the cold little alcove with his heart in pieces. By the time he realized she hadn’t actually denied feeling the same way, she was gone.

---

Boomerang almost didn’t come back from his next mission. Almost. But he was the luckiest bastard in the GAR, again, not that he felt like it anymore. For the first time he could remember he refused the invite to 79’s with his brothers once they were back on shore leave. The last thing he needed was pressure to party like everything hadn’t changed, or to hear jokes about never falling for the twi-lek girls, no matter what his reputation used to be. 

Yet, somehow, Boulder and Bumi managed to drag his ass there anyways. He still wasn’t entirely sure how that happened but here he was, back in the familiar dimly lit club with its neon lights and thumping music and secret alcoves he didn’t intend to visit anymore. The Twi-lek girls were here, too, the same ones Rena used to come with, because of course they were. He averted his gaze, at least at first.

A couple of drinks in, though, that was becoming more difficult, especially since Bumi was off dancing obliviously with them and kept waving him over. Boulder, at least, didn’t push him right away. His twin even seemed a little regretful as Boomerang stared pointedly into his drink with his eyes glazed over. 

“You’re miserable, aren’t you?” Boulder interrupted his brooding.

“What gave it away?” He snapped.

“Come on, vod. It’s not like we have many places to cut loose, you can’t write off 79’s just because of a girl. This is our bar, not theirs!”

“And I’m here. What more do you want?”

“Get behind the counter and put the bartender to shame, like old times! Show off some tricks, use those cringey pick-up lines on someone, I don’t know! Boomerang stuff! Just get out there and dance, for all I care!”

Boomerang rolled his eyes, pounding the remainder of his drink and slamming the glass back down on the table. “One song,” He growled. “Then I’m going back to base.” 

“Deal.”

Boomerang shoved his glass aside and slicked back his hair with a frown. Bumi waved again for him to join them. One of Rena’s old friends even flashed him a flirty grin that made his gut twist before flouncing off towards a guy on the other end of the bar. He sighed as a new song began to pulse overhead. It was best to get this over with.

Party rock in hyperspace tonight,
Everybody just have a good time…

Fine. Boulder was right. Dancing was still fun. Moving with the rhythms, even half-heartedly, made him feel more like himself than he had since the last time he was here. The alcohol probably helped, or maybe Bumi at his side cheering him on, but regardless, maybe he would stay a little longer. He twisted to face another newcomer as the bridge kicked in. Still, fun as it was, this wasn’t the same without-

Without - 

He froze, and so did the gorgeous green-skinned Twi-lek man opposite him, with the brazen, deep, piercing eyes. Eyes he knew.

“Mesh'la?!”

“Boomerang! I…” 

The twi-leks words seemed to get caught but it was undoubtedly her. Or, him? The person standing before Boomerang looked different, but those expressions, the way they spoke his name, those eyes… He swallowed hard. There were so many things he wanted desperately to say, but only one seemed to come to his mind. 

“You came back?” 

Seconds ticked by before they nodded tensely. “S-So did you.” 

“I always come back,” Boomerang said weakly, earning a nervous grin from his old partner, but a second later the volume kicked up and whatever more they tried to say was lost. He took a steadying breath and jerked his head back towards the hall, the same one they broke up in not too long ago. To his relief, after a moment’s hesitation, they nodded.

“It’s… It’s Rafi now… You should probably know.”

“So… he?” Boomerang asked the moment they were alone.

“Yeah,” He said sheepishly. 

“Rafi… I like it,” Boomerang replied. “You chose it?”

“I did.”

“Good,” He grinned. “I never understood how so many nat-borns could stand to keep a name they didn’t choose, to be honest.” 

Rafi chuckled at that. The sound was little deeper than before, but it was still clearly Rafi. It still made his heart leap.

“I wasn’t planning to come back,” Rafi said, after a short pause. He stared hard at the ground as he spoke. “I went to one of Brentall's moons for this, but, afterwards… Some part of me just kept hoping... For us, I think. I didn’t expect to see you tonight but… You deserve to know.”

“Know which part?” Boomerang asked in bewildered excitement. “That you still... Want me? Us? Or that you've changed? Or...”

Rafi let out a shaky sigh and nodded again, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Both," He said in a near whisper. “I didn't want to hurt you, I - I shouldn’t have let you fall in love with Rena no matter how much I liked you when I already knew that I -”

“What?” Boomerang blurted out, unable to stop himself. “I’m in love with you! Not your name!”

“But I’m different now.”

“You’re stunning!”

Finally Rafi’s eyes snapped up in shock to meet Boomerang’s fiery gaze. His heart raced wildly in his chest, aching and indignant at Rafi’s disbelief. Sure, he had fallen hard and fallen fast for the twi-lek, but that had nothing to do with it! And if he still liked him back? If he still had a chance?

“You always have been! I fell for your heart,” He said breathlessly, taking Rafi’s hand in his own and holding on tight. “I fell for your resilience and daring and passion, and for the sparks in your eyes, and the way you love! And I - Kriff’s sake, I’ll love every version of you! As long as you’re happy.”

Rafi stared back at him, speechless, and those sparkly eyes began to water.

“...If you’ll have me,” Boomerang added a little lamely, flushing red after that kind of an admission. Osik, he’d never spoken like that before in his life, but he meant every single word and Rafi had to hear it. He had to know.

“I am happy,” Rafi whispered softly, blinking tears from his eyes. Boomerang tenderly wiped them away. “Really happy. And I… Of course I'll have you… I love you, too.”

Boomerang’s heart just about exploded on the spot. He couldn’t quite contain the joyful cry that escaped him as he swooped his beloved Rafi up into a long awaited hug and held him close. Rafi practically melted in his arms, sniffing hard and nestling into Boomerang’s shoulder. After everything, he could hardly believe it. He had Rafi in his arms again, and Rafi loved him too! There was nothing in the galaxy, no war, no clankers, nothing at all, that would stop the luckiest bastard in the GAR from always coming back.

Chapter Text

Crow’s guts were in absolute knots as he was practically frog-marched out of the alley, away from Luz and Nox, and ushered into a waiting speeder at the end of it. None of his vode in the Guard spoke a word. Stitch, their CMO, had made off with the poor shiny already, and as soon as the perp was loaded behind them they sped off back towards the base. 

He could hardly believe they arrested the man, and even behind their helmets, huddled in wordless silence, he knew the others felt the same. Normally in a situation like this, Commander Fox would do his best to placate the nat-born so they wouldn’t retaliate, neutralizing the evidence if at all possible, but that would have been tricky here. The shiny had fought back. The nat-born attacker had a clear blaster wound on his kriffing neck. It didn’t even matter that it was self defense, that only applied to people, not clones! A clone’s word wasn’t worth much anyways, and it was impossible to deny what he did. Crow only knew that the Commander kept more men alive in the aftermath of situations like these than anyone outside the Guard was aware of, and as soon as he heard the vic was one of their brothers, they needed him. Even if it got Crow himself in trouble. Even if he had gone against several of Fox’s rules in being out here tonight, even if the Commander was going to be livid to find him in an alley with people from outside the Guard, nonetheless Luz, a nat-born herself and a dangerous person in Fox’s eyes.

Fox’s assumptions about Luz were well justified. People like Luz could lie. People like Luz could claim anything about what a clone did or didn’t do. People like Luz could do whatever they wanted to his brothers without consequence, because even if stealing or misusing or vandalizing or destroying military equipment was illegal, nothing was ever done about it. It was never worth the resources. 

Luz not only could lie, she did. It wasn’t lost on a single Corrie here that a nat-born had looked their Commander in the face and spluttered out a blatant lie about what happened in that alleyway, like countless others had done before her. Even Crow hadn’t been expecting that. The difference, though, was that this time, they weren’t rushing to stash the victim somewhere safe. Instead they had a perp in binders in the back of the speeder, charges pending. Fox had already pulled up his file and found no less than four other instances where this man was involved in something of this nature. In one of them the clone still hadn’t been found, and another had resulted in a decom order that Crow could only hope hadn’t actually gone through.

This time, though, they had made an arrest, and Crow knew that Fox was never going to let this man hurt one of their brothers again.

Considering the trouble he was about to be in, that would have to be consolation enough. The speeder slowed to a stop outside Headquarters and he leapt out. For the briefest second he considered trying to stay with the rest of the squad and slip off when he got the chance, but it would be pointless. Fox already knew which trooper had called in the 10P, and even now, the Commander was staring at him, like he expected Crow to try such a move. He sighed. Fox knew them apart even in their identical armor, didn’t he? There was no getting out of this one. Before anyone reminded him of his fate again, he turned on his heel, marching off towards the cold duracrete building that housed the Commander’s office.

Another of the guard went with him, matching his strides, as the rest pulled their latest prisoner from the back of the speeder. He was groaning now, just starting to wake up and realize what was happening.

“Where… YOU… One of you SHOT me!” He spluttered indignantly. “Unbind me! Which one of you fucking morons-”

“You’re under arrest for assaulting a citizen of the Republic…” Commander Fox’s voice trailed off behind him as the door whirred shut. 

The other guard escorted him all the way to Fox’s office, as if it was his first time heading there, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Crow wasn’t so sure he wanted to be alone anyways, even if they were just walking in silence. The image of the shiny’s listless, terrified eyes kept coming back to his head, just moments before they rolled back and his brother keeled over in his arms…

All the rules he broke, that he had been breaking for months, were meant to protect them from things exactly like that. Crow felt a stab of guilt at the knowledge of it. But his rule-breaking had also resulted in saving so many of his brothers, too! It wasn’t just the missions with Luz and his vode in the GAR, Crow had tracked down plenty of tips on his fellow Corries who went missing, whenever he could. If he found evidence of criminal activities among the people tied to their disappearances, they could do something, even if the Guard would never recover them all. Maybe that was why the Commander hadn’t fully cracked down on Crow sooner. Then again, all the previous times he had been here were for considerably less serious offenses. 

The door was locked, so he slumped against the wall outside the office. The other Corrie remained at attention even though no one else was here. 

“Wild night, huh?” Crow broke the silence as minutes ticked past.

The other trooper hesitated before responding, casting a glance down the hall. “That doesn’t matter. So long as we’ve done our duty.”

“Said that she did,” Crow grumbled to himself beneath the helmet he knew better than to remove. It was going to be like that then. Alright. Fine. He kept his mouth shut, brooding, stubbornly waiting until he heard footsteps again to straighten back up. When they finally came, he gave a small groan of displeasure. He deserved this, he knew it, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it in the slightest. 

Commander Fox appeared around the corner. To Crow’s mild surprise, their CMO, Stitch, was following in his wake.

“CT-8846, you’re dismissed,” Fox nodded at Crow’s escort. “CT-2769, come inside.” 

Crow followed obediently. It was probably a little late to start complying now, but he could still try. The moment the door shut behind him, Fox and Stitch removed their helmets, and Stitch pulled out a med scanner. Crow raised his eyebrows under his own bucket.

“Let me see you, vod.”

“I’m fine-”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Stitch angrily cut him off. “I won’t believe for a damn second that the fucking perp didn’t hurt you too until I see so myself, and who the hell knows what that girls deal was? So helmet off, no one’s being a kriffing martyr tonight!”

Crow gritted his teeth but tore off his helmet so his long curls flopped into his face again, and tried to shake them back. Fox frowned. He really should have thought to put it in a regulation cut this week, but it was just starting to grow out nicely again after last time…

Stitch’s face was brimming with barely controlled rage as he looked him over, but every time he touched him, it was gentle. He muttered everything he was doing between curses so Crow wouldn’t be caught off guard. The scanner beeped on occasion, and he scowled at it. 

“Did that other medic give you anything?” He said bitterly as he concluded the exam.

“No,” Crow said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice at the way Stitch had referred to Nox. “He was focused on saving the victim.”

“He better have fucking been.”

“Nox knew what he was doing.”

“Oh, well then, good for Nox, passing his training!” Stitch seethed. “He’s still not me.”

“Enough, Stitch,” Fox said in a tired tone. “Is he okay?”

“Physically, yes.”

“Then report back to Skip,” Fox said, setting his helmet gingerly on his desk. “Keep his number off the Tox reports, I want them anonymous. Have them sent to me hourly. Understand?”

“And how many kriffing hours are you going to work on this tonight?”

“Don’t.”

“You need rest, Fox, I swear if you try to pull this banthashit one more night I’ll fucking sedate you myself-”

“Go back to the med bay, Stitch. That’s an order.”

Stitch gave the Commander an absolutely scathing look that would have gotten anyone else put on latrine duty for a week, breathing hard, but said no more. After a tense few seconds he rounded on his heel and stomped back out of the office.

Fox let out a heavy exhale and gestured for Crow to close the door. He did so. When he turned back around, Fox was facing him with an expression like steel. Crow gulped, but his throat felt dry all of the sudden. Fox looked weary, but his eyes blazed.

“Explain,” He said in a dangerous tone.

“I…” Crow began, but words seemed to fail him. “Which part, Sir?”

“All of it,” Fox demanded. “Starting with what really happened out there.”

Crow let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his curls. All of it would be a loaded answer, one he really couldn’t afford to give. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his Commander, far from it, in fact. Fox tried hard to protect them. He was already running himself into the ground trying to keep as many of his men safe as he possibly could, between Senator’s abuse and Citizen’s tempers and the lack of basic resources the Guard was provided with to do their damn jobs. 

And Crow had a knack for making that more difficult. It felt like something was wrong with him. He understood the reasoning for all of the rules, he cared about his brothers, about his Commander, and he never wanted to make things worse! The look of disappointment on their faces when he screwed up made his guts writhe with anger and guilt, but he had always been like this. He disappointed their trainers on Kamino, too, didn’t he? But he couldn’t help it. He was always a little deviant, he couldn’t just sit still, follow orders, stay in line. Even the idea made him feel itchy on the inside, if that was possible. He had been a terrible cadet. He was a terrible Coruscant guard.

But he wasn’t a terrible brother. Breaking the rules was inevitable, so he tried to break them in a way that would help them best he could. He just… Never imagined it would have gotten to this point. He loved his ki’vod, he respected his Commander, but come what may, he wasn’t sorry.

“I was at 79’s,” He began, carefully retelling the relevant parts of the story. Chances were Fox would review security footage of this incident, so he didn’t hide who was present, even if he didn’t volunteer the reason they all met. Fox didn’t interrupt, but his face darkened as Crow went on, and every time Crow paused he motioned for him to continue. Crow explained how Luz had suspicions about the man and how she noticed when he hauled off with Skip, how he and Nox had chased her into the alleyway, how his first instinct was to comm Fox when he realized what happened (not that mentioning as much earned him many good points now), how he heard the blaster shot and found Skip on his knees…

He had to stop at that point, and this time, Fox let him. He took a couple steadying breaths as the image flickered in his mind. No matter what anyone else said, Skip had done well. He had been so lost and scared back there, barely conscious, but he managed to fight back against a person who had clearly done this to their brothers before...

A hand settled comfortingly on his shoulder, and he looked up in surprise at his Commander’s gaunt, weary face.

“Nox made sure the nat-born was stable,” Crow told him, his voice suddenly feeling hoarse and raw. “Then Skip passed out and… He gave him that thing, the medicine that saved him… Then you arrived.”

He knew none of this would change the official report. That much went without saying. Reliving it, though, was much more harrowing than Crow had expected it to be. He hadn’t had time to process what was happening back in that moment, but now…

“Sit,” Fox instructed, guiding him into one of the stiff padless chairs. Crow sank into it, scowling at the floor to keep his face from crumpling completely. Fox crossed over to his desk, hovering near his own chair, but didn’t take it. Even without looking up, Crow could hear his heavy breathing. He really had upset the Commander, as if the Commander needed more shit to be upset about. It made him feel sick.

“Rule breaking aside,” Fox spoke at long last, “That doesn’t explain why the perp had the girls hairs in his hand.”

“Luz did that.”

“I need you to be more specific, trooper.”

“Luz pulled out some of her own hairs and dropped them into the man’s hand,” Crow mumbled, raking his own hand through his hair in distress as he said it. “I - I didn’t understand why she did it but-”

“So everything she told us was pre-meditated,” Fox stated, his tone nearly unreadable.

“I… I guess,” Crow muttered.

“She told us that the perp dragged her back there by her hair, pushed her to her knees and dropped his pants,” Fox said matter-of-fact. “Why would she lie about that?”

Crow looked up at him in confusion, blinking a few times, and Fox held his gaze intently, despite the bags under his own eyes.

“Did you tell her to do that?” Fox pushed, a little more aggressively this time. “What prompted her to make up that story, Crow? What does she know?”

“She was just trying to protect us!” Crow stammered. “She’s just like that. I didn’t tell her to do anything, she just did it on her own-”

“Why?” Fox asked again. “Why did that even come into her mind? Is it a game? Does she expect something?”

“N-No!” Crow stammered. “She was just upset because the perp wouldn’t be charged for hurting Skip and she probably thought if it was her he would go to jail for it. We aren’t people-”

“I know that-”

“And she is, so she used it. And it worked,” He said pointedly. “It’s… It’s a good thing.”

“I’m not arguing whether or not it’s good,” Fox said suspiciously. “She’s a nat-born, Crow. What reason would she have to care about us?”

“She’s my friend.”

Crow knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say.

“And you trust that?” He spat.

“Yes,” Crow doubled down, narrowing his eyes.

Fox dropped his head into his hands. “Crow - We both know how many rules you’ve already broken but of all the things-”

“I trust Nox, too!” Crow blurted out. “And Vaughn, and Ridgeback! And Nox said - He said this isn't normal! He's a medic, too, and he said-”

Fox wheeled on him with a pained and furious look on his face that made Crow’s heart wrench. "The GAR doesn't have a clue about what's normal! You know I’m only trying to protect-”

“Protect me, I know!”

“Protect all of you! All our vode!" Fox cried.

The words echoed for a second and died in the air. Crow felt flayed open. He did know that. Fox was damn good at protecting them, too, even to his own detriment, and they all knew it… But Crow was good at that, too. He felt torn, torn between two sets of vode and torn between his sworn duty and his irrepressible deviance.

“You wanted to know everything,” Crow huffed in frustration at it all. “Now you do. I'm no good at this, I know I've karked up, I just-”

"No. You have skills, Crow, just, maybe they aren't well suited to the Senate," Fox said tiredly. A moment later, though, his voice hardened. "But that's another conversation."

"Sir?"

"I don’t know everything, but I will,” Fox said in a threatening tone. “You’re still hiding something. What the hell are you up to, Crow? I’m going to find out one way or another. This is your last chance to tell me yourself.”

Crow balked at that. “W-what, I can’t just have friends?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Fox growled.

Crow did his best to cycle through his options but his mind felt like putty after everything tonight. Across the desk, Fox stared at him fiercely, dark circles wreathing his eyes. Crow took a series of deep breaths, stalling, and still, Fox waited, patient despite his own obvious exhaustion and distress. He ran his hand through his hair again, and Fox winced, ever so slightly. Crow paused. That was one of the things too, wasn't it? As much as he liked it like this, his hair made him stand out, made him a target... Made Fox nervous. And Fox did so much for them. Even if Crow wasn't a very good Coruscant Guard, maybe there were a few things he could do to be less of a pain in the ass, too.

There was hardly any point anymore. No matter what spiral he started on, they all came back to the same conclusion. His Commander would do anything to protect them, even take a lying nat-born at her word if it meant that their brothers would be a little bit safer out there on the streets. Even skip out on his own rations to make sure everyone else had something to eat first. Even implement a series of stifling rules that made troopers like Crow the bane of his existence, as if he didn’t have enough already to handle.

He trusted him.

Crow looked Commander Fox in the eye and gave him a squirmy, apologetic little grin. “So… Luz has a ship.”

Chapter Text

Fox had thoroughly warned Sergeant Milo about the dangers this mission would entail before even allowing him to accept it. Cohorting with nat-borns was incredibly risky, given the threat they posed through malice or ignorance or both. Aiding deserters could get him branded as a traitor if he was caught, and the consequences for that would be severe, if he was lucky. Milo had treated all those warnings with the utmost seriousness, honored that Commander Fox would trust him to oversee a mission this sensitive and vital and determined to prove he was the right choice for it. His directives were made perfectly clear - He was to protect Skip and Harrow by any means necessary, ensure all of Fox’s rules were respected, and keep an eye on the Nat-born pilot. If there was any sign of dishonesty from her, any hint she may not stay true to her promises and put himself or his brothers in any more danger, he knew his orders.

Of all the points Fox had made though, all the assurances and advice and worry he gave them, he hadn’t said a damn thing about the food.

Milo lay on one of the most comfortable bunks he had ever slept in, just starting to stir from another rare full night’s rest to the smells of breakfast wafting in under the door and some music playing softly in the background. A few days ago he would hardly have been able to distinguish between different nat-born meals, nevermind getting used to the idea of even having more than one meal a day! Now, though, breakfast was one of his favorites. Along with lunch and dinner… And dessert. In fact he hadn’t had a single meal here that he didn’t just love, especially once Luz began making them with choklad!

It was ironic. For such a high risk mission, he had spent an awful lot of time feeling comfortable and full, eating more than enough food and getting more than enough sleep. Even now it was very tempting to just burrow back into the cushiony pillow, pull the velvet blanket a little tighter around his neck and let his mind drift peacefully again, but he wasn’t supposed to let his guard down, not while he was alone with a nat-born. Fox trusted him too much for that, and besides, the smells from the galley were already making the idea of leaving his bed feel like a much better option.

He stretched out all his limbs with a groan, slowly blinking open his eyes, and his stomach growled. Milo untangled himself from his oversized blanket and crawled his way out of bed. A neatly stacked pile of armor sat on an opposite bunk, where Skip had slept just a couple nights before. His heart lurched. Milo barely knew his two vode before this trip, but saying goodbye to them had been one of the hardest things he had to do as a soldier, even knowing in his heart they were truly going to be okay. They were free. It was almost more than he could handle, but Fox would be so, so glad to know that it had been for real.

Milo, though, couldn’t stay. He had to return to Coruscant, which meant being in close proximity to a nat-born for several days with no backup. He shook his head. Fox would want him kitted up, even now, and Fox was usually right about these things, so he began dutifully pulling on his armor, piece by piece.

“OW-” A yelp interrupted him, followed by a clattering sound and a sharp hiss. “SHIT!”

And that’s why. Fox knew what he was talking about, no situation was truly safe! Milo snatched up his blaster and bucket, burst out of his room and bolted into the galley, taking up a position with partial cover around a wall in only half his armor. He shouldn’t have even waited that long, now he was caught halfway unprepared! The threat could be anywhere, from a hostile stowaway to a mechanical failure to being discovered-

“Ah kriff, sorry Trooper,” Luz said casually over the music from just beyond the wall. “Didn’t meant to wake you, I just tripped over the damn step stool and knocked a bowl off the counter, this galley is NOT made for short people!” 

Milo tightened his grip on his blaster, Fox’s warnings all ringing in his head as he peered cautiously around the corner, but Luz met his eyes with an embarrassed little sigh as she sat in a heap on the floor. A sticky blue substance was splattered across her face and arms, dripping from the colorful cabinets she had painted herself.

“I’ll have to re-make that batter for the Felucia toast,” she muttered, wincing just a little as she pulled herself to her feet. “At least it wasn’t gravy this time.” 

Milo exhaled. This wasn’t a direct threat after all, at least, not to him. She was a bit of a danger to herself though, wasn’t she? He would have to keep an eye on that. If Fox did want to use her again, he would probably need her back in one piece. He stowed his blaster and stepped into the room with a shake of his head.

“You mind giving me a hand with the cinnamon?” Luz asked, pulling open a cabinet door with some Mon Calamari musician painted on the front and gesturing to a little glass jar full of brown powder towards the top. “I haven’t made this in a while and Nox put it away too high for me last time.”

Milo blinked at her a couple of times in confusion. “Nox… cooks?” 

“Yeah! He helps me sometimes, found the Felucia Toast recipe himself before our last trip…” 

She trailed off, but he furrowed his brow with a frown. Luz had talked a lot about that particular trooper, a reckless, too-trusting type from the GAR, but the bit about him cooking was new. That hadn’t occurred to Milo. He and his men had been planning to subsist on rations for the trip, but when Luz started offering her own food to them, well… They tried to hold out at first, but her cooking smelled like everything they’d ever had to watch Senators gorge themselves on while their own stomachs ached with hunger, and besides, the Guard knew better than to waste food.

It was still nat-born food, though. Getting to try it at all was practically unheard of, but he knew it wasn’t really meant for them. He knew better than to pry, nat-borns got upset when you asked too many questions, so he didn’t ask about all the jars of colorful powders she shook into the stew, he didn’t ask what the thick brown liquid with such a strong flavor was that she slathered over a hunk of nerf chops, he didn’t even ask what the squishy white cubes were, the ones that melted so perfectly into a sweet foam over their hot choklad. It wasn’t like having those answers would make a difference back on Coruscant anyways, and it wasn’t worth the risk of upsetting a nat-born and compromising the mission.

But Nox cooked.

Milo absentmindedly passed the jar down to her and caught a whiff of it as he did. His knees almost went weak. It smelled divine.

“Would it-” He started, then paused to collect his words, hoping to phrase the question right. It wouldn’t do him any good to sound overly eager. “Would it help if I… Learned some of this, too?”

“Sure would!” Luz replied easily, grinning as she mopped the blue mixture off one of her arms. “Especially if you’ll be on more of these trips. I can cook for a couple people at a time but many more than that and I need the extra set of hands. Unless everyone likes soup anyways. It’s easy to make a lot of soup.”

“The soup was good,” He said a little awkwardly. “Is that what… Do you make Felucia Toast with soup?”

Luz gave him a quizzical look and his cheeks flushed red. That probably wasn’t right, was it? But he gestured at the mess of the blue stuff dripping off a painting of a tooka and into a puddle on the counter. It wasn’t the same color, but it certainly looked like soup…

“Oooh,” Luz nodded, more to herself than to him. “Nah, this is different.” 

He didn’t want to push to ask what made them different, that might be a step too far, it was hard to tell. She hadn’t been angry on this trip yet, at least not at them, but that hardly meant anything. Plenty of Senators acted one way in public and another way entirely once they were alone. Her face scrunched up though, almost like she had heard his question anyways, and he could practically see her mind working through the answer. 

“Soup and batter can have similar textures, but you have to cook batter, whether on something else or by itself. When you do, it turns into a solid, like cake! But soup just stays… Well, soupy, whether you cook it or not. Cooking it helps the flavor and blends it all together, but it still stays soup.” 

She was smiling as she finished her explanation, to his relief. Even though some of that still sounded foreign to him, the basics of it seemed to make sense.

“So… We’re making batter,” He said with all the seriousness and professionalism ingrained in him from his days as a cadet, and even more so since joining the perfect Coruscant Guard.

“Yep! Which is really pretty easy, there’s only a few ingredients and they all get mixed up together. I already have them out. Blue milk, eggs, vanilla, flour…”

She listed off a couple other things and handed him a datapad from the counter with the full recipe, briefly pausing to finish cleaning up the mess from before, and he took the opportunity to pour over it as thoroughly as he could. To his relief, there were step by step instructions on exactly how to prepare the dish. Milo was good at following instructions. If he could handle the list of specific rules and regulations Commander Fox had given him, he could handle Felucia Toast.

      - Combine all ingredients besides bread in a single dish.

Well, he wasn’t quite sure which was which, but Luz said all the ingredients were already out. He took a steadying breath and picked up one of the brown oval things to place in the dish -

And it shattered in his hand. A thick yellow goo oozed between his fingers, his heart jumped to his throat. He broke it.

He broke it. 

The first thing he touched and he broke it-

“Ah, forgot to say, eggs are fragile and kinda weird,” Luz spoke up from across the room, drying her hands after finishing with the mess from before. “Just toss that one down the drain, I’ll show you!”

The color had already drained from his face and he felt frozen in place, but he nodded stiffly, jaw set, and did as he was told, a pit in his stomach. He broke it, he broke the egg, there should be consequences for that, she should be angry for that…

“I’m not great at it either, it’s usually a little messy. But you just hold it gently and kinda tap it, like this,” She said, ducking in front of him to demonstrate, and he held his breath. He had to pay attention. Luz should be mad, he had to be careful, but all she did was rap the egg on the edge of the bowl a couple of times until it cracked in two. The goop fell into the dish. “Then toss the shells, we don’t use those.”

…So they were supposed to break. Just, not like he had done it. Milo tried to settle himself as he picked up the next egg, carefully, without squeezing it this time, like she indicated. She hadn’t retaliated yet, but he couldn’t mess up again. Gently, he repeated in his head… So, maybe it was like rolling a droid popper. He could do that, he was good at that. With forcibly steady hands, he gave the egg a couple gentle taps of his own, the shell broke apart cleanly.

Milo didn’t sigh in relief, but a little excitement fluttered in his chest. 

“Great!” Luz grinned up at him. “Just one more of those. Then we’ll have to measure out the milk and the other things…”

Thankfully, the eggs were the most complicated part of the batter, and he didn’t mess up anything else along the way. Luz showed him how to dunk the thick spongy bread into the batter they made, coating both sides before dropping it into a pan full of butter so it sizzled. Butter, he was told, was key to a lot of cooking. Or at least, the kind of cooking Luz tended to do. She claimed to use too much butter sometimes, though apparently, that made things better. However that figured, it was a good piece of information to know. When in doubt, add butter.

“And that’s about it! We flip it over again after it’s nice and golden-brown, drown it in syrup or whatever toppings you like, and that’s it!”

“Syrup?” He asked, still a bit nervous, but not so much as before. She hadn’t been upset by the egg or any of his questions so far, though he was still a little worried about finding her limit.

“Yep, same sweet brown stuff we had with Pantora Pancakes a couple days ago.”

“Right,” Milo nodded with a sheepish grin, dropping his own first piece of bread into the pan full of butter. He remembered now, that stuff was good, but he hadn’t considered that they could put it on more than one thing!

“That first one is probably done on that side, you can flip it over,” Luz spoke up. “Think you got this? I can start gathering toppings and making drinks if you do.” 

“I - Yes but - How do I know when to flip it?” Milo asked, squinting at the piece of perfectly golden bread on one side as the other sizzled in butter again. 

“Eh, the timing is kind of a gut feeling. If you’re not sure you can peek and see, but once you get the hang of it, you can fry more than one at once. And it’s not the end of the world if they aren’t perfect either. Just means we use more syrup!”

That… Was unusual to hear, but probably for the best. He had always been expected to perform new skills correctly from the start, and it hadn’t always been possible, try as he might. But butter made everything better, and apparently, syrup could fix his mistakes. 

If only rules like that could apply to the other aspects of his life! There ought to be something like syrup they could use to fix mistakes made in the Senate or make everything better in the barracks.

Come to think of it, there might not be any helping the Senate, but a little bit of this food could go a long way to improve the lives of his brothers…

Luz bustled about pulling all sorts of new things out of the conservator, heating the syrup and brewing them both rich mugs full of hot choklad to drink, and soon the delicious smells of breakfast were rising up from his own pan on the stovetop as the Felucia Toast cooked. In the end, he burned one of the pieces, but as long as he kept that one himself it would probably be fine. No matter what she said about syrup, it was best that she didn’t know. He was still lucky to be eating like this at all!

“Well you picked that up quick!” Luz beamed at him as he set the plate down in the center of the table in the main hold, between the bowl of fluffy white cream, a plate full of colorful little berries, the cinnamon that started it all, and the jar of syrup. “Those look amazing!”

“Thanks,” He muttered, trying to stifle the surge of pride that was making him blush already as he slid the burnt piece onto his own plate and quickly covered it with a regular one, so Luz wouldn’t see. “I… I hardly did anything really, it was your recipe.”

“It was Nox’s recipe. And cooking it is half the battle, Nox burned all of them the first time,” She chuckled, taking two pieces for herself and pouring the syrup on top. “Still delicious though.”

He exhaled a little at that. Another good sign. By all accounts she even seemed happy, despite the mishaps this morning, and it sounded like this recipe had caused quite a few mishaps, between Nox’s attempts and her own mess this morning and his screw-up with that egg. Absentmindedly, he reached for a few of the toppings, cut into it and took a bite and…

Milo nearly melted on the spot. It was delicious, warm and gooey and sweet and crispy all at once, one of the best things he’d had on this entire trip…

And he made it.

He paused mid-bite to stare down at the plate, but his vision suddenly went blurry as the thought echoed in his mind. He made this. He made something this good, something that instantly brought him all sorts of feelings of comfort and joy and warmth, almost overwhelmingly so…

“Mmm,” Luz hummed with happiness from across the table. “That’s so kriffing good, you know that? You did a fantastic job, Chef!” 

Milo’s eyes snapped up to hers, another question on his mind, and whether it was the food or the praise, he didn’t second-guess asking her this time. “What’s a Chef?” He asked with a strange momentary confidence, before stuffing the next bite in his mouth. 

“Oh! It’s like a cook. Someone who makes food, but better than normal. Like really, really good food.” She went to eat more of it, but hesitated with a forkful halfway to her mouth, and her face fell. “Wait, is that a problem? With the name rules or… Something? Should I not have called you that?”

Milo paused his eating too. That was actually a very good question, and for once, he wasn’t entirely sure. On one hand, it wasn’t his name. It wasn’t even a name at all, the way she used it, it was more of a title, like Sergeant or Pilot. But on the other hand, she was supposed to call them all Trooper, very specifically…

He kind of liked Chef, though. Especially if he was going to help her with this in the future, or if he was going to get to make food like this for his brothers, make them something delicious that made them feel like this…

“I’ll have to ask Fox,” He decided. That was an unexpected development, and he would need his Commanders insight.

Luz shrugged and nodded. “Well, if either of you don’t like it, I won’t use it. Just let me know.” She dug back into her Felucia Toast again, without complaint.

Milo did the same. It was good to know she wouldn’t press it, if anything that might make Fox feel a little better about it. There wasn’t much hiding the fact that she was a little frustrated at the lack of names, but she hadn’t pushed the matter, even if it seemed to him like she might be a little lonely at times. It could be a good solution, though, if they were going to work together again. And maybe the idea of being called something like that, something that meant that, gave him a bit of a warm fuzzy feeling. It was a title he could earn, even if he still had a long way to go. Hell, an hour ago he didn’t know what an egg was, or that syrup fixes everything! And syrup did fix everything, Luz was right. He could hardly taste the burnt parts of his breakfast. 

If food really could make people feel like this, he would learn. Come to think of it, all his brothers deserved to have something like this, at least once in a while, didn’t they? He might get to come back to Luz’s ship and make more food if these missions continued, but the rest of his vode wouldn’t, not unless they were on board for a one way trip anyways, and that wasn’t enough. They were all hungry, they were all stressed, all the way from the newest of shinies to Commander Fox…

Especially Commander Fox. Chef put down his fork with a frown.

“Full already?” Luz asked, sponging up the last of the syrup off her plate with her final bite of Felucia Toast.

“No, I…” Milo sighed. “I was just thinking… About my brothers.”

“Mm hm?”

“They… They deserve this too, don’t they?”

Voicing something like that could be dangerous, Milo knew, but despite being a nat-born, that much was something he had a feeling Luz of all nat-borns would agree with.

“Totally. It’s banthashit that you don’t,” She muttered, eyes narrowed. “A lot of things these days are banthashit.”

Milo nodded solemnly. “I wish I could do this for all of them.”

Luz popped her last bite of breakfast in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, tracing something with her finger into the table and pursing her lips. Milo raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re serious about that,” She said cautiously, at long last, “There might be a way…”

That wasn’t what Milo was expecting to hear at all. Maybe some sympathy, Luz seemed good at that, or maybe a scoff, it wouldn’t quite fit with what he had seen of her so far but he was still waiting for her true colors to come out anyways, and this was as good a time as ever for them to show. But, a solution?

Then again, this was the same nat-born who pulled together a whole desertion plan with Fox, and it worked. Maybe she wasn’t the usual kind of dangerous after all, even if she was certainly strange and a bit self-destructive.

“I’m listening,” He replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

“You’d have to convince your people, but… I do have a contact I could talk to. Let’s just say that they’re really good at supplying food and essentials to large groups of people under the table.”

Milo considered that, and before this trip, he probably wouldn’t have, but kriff, his brothers were hungry, they deserved this… And he could learn. He could cook for them so they would know it was safe to eat, so they could enjoy eating, not just scarf down their daily half-ration and march off to their posts… And so Commander Fox in particular might be able to survive off something besides caf and sheer obsessive determination to keep them all alive.

The mental image of Fox’s face as he took a sip of hot choklad instead of caf slipped into his head, and he made up his mind. This was important, somehow. He had a feeling in his gut about it, like he needed to do it… Though that feeling could just be the Felucia Toast, too. 

“I’ll ask the Commander, if…” He gulped, hoping this wouldn’t be too much of an ask. “If you can teach me.”

For a second he held his breath, but Luz just gave him an easy smile and a carefree shrug.

“Sure!” She said. “I’m not the best cook but I get by. Most of my recipes are simple, I got them from my Ama and they’re really good to throw together for lots of people! But you can find more on the holo, too, once you know the basics, or just start to make your own…”

Milo couldn’t quite help the grin that spread across his face as he sat back again and started stuffing himself full of Felucia Toast again. This would be a good thing, he would make sure of it. He could read about cooking, too, educate himself on the topic between lessons with Luz, learn what all the common ingredients and different methods were and put them to the test here, now, on their trip home. When he presented the idea to Fox he would do it with a meal that the Commander couldn’t possibly resist! And soon, he would be cooking for as many of his brothers as he could, filling their stomachs with warm, comforting food that they all needed so badly.

Somehow, with that idea in his head, the Felucia Toast tasted even sweeter.

Chapter Text

Luz watched as Powpow zoomed around the room, clearly quite proud of herself for everything she managed to download in the time Luz and Nox had been trapped in a cell on Kowak. Vaughn sat hunched over her holotable, hard at work decrypting and analyzing the last of the data she had procured for him, with Nox hovering in anticipation over his shoulder. Luz herself just sat fidgeting on her own sofa, turning over several things in her head. 

She knew the Lieutenant wouldn’t be happy with them for how the mission went, but he hadn’t yet asked her anything specific about Kowak, and it made her nervous. Nox’s basic debriefing glazed over most of the details, and she was sure that Vaughn would start questioning the specifics any time now. He had pushed back the hardest against letting them go, had warned them of his several very specific concerns, which, of course, all came true. He had been right at every turn. Powpow had been absolutely critical to their survival there, nonetheless any amount of success they had pulled off, thanks to him and Crow’s combined efforts. The lecture had to be incoming, she would hear all about it just as soon as he finished pouring over the data Powpow delivered.

“I should probably be thanking you for whatever you programmed her to do,” Luz said at long last. Maybe if she initiated the conversation, if she took the humble route, he would go easier on her. “You were right. We really were in over our heads, and if she hadn’t come to save us I’m not sure we would have made it out.”

“Hmm,” Vaughn grunted, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth across the data projected before him. “That’s something that confuses me about your story. I wouldn’t put it past her to have spotted your incarceration before disconnecting, but her actions don’t quite make sense,” he pondered. “To get a key she would have had to pull one off a guards person, those are not left laying around to simply swipe. And that may be possible, but the fight mentioned was conveniently timed too, wasn’t it?”

Nox shot her a warning look, but so did Vaughn, and Luz squirmed.

“I… Guess she could have been super stealthy? Or lucky?” Luz suggested weakly, but Vaughn shook his head.

“Nox, didn’t you say someone let you go free at the gates by mistake?” Vaughn said plainly.

“...I mean… That’s what it looked like, but-”

“Your ship wasn’t even locked down or tracked, and that should have been one of the first steps they took upon your capture to prevent further security breaches.”

“Well wouldn’t that all be in Powpow’s memory banks?” Luz huffed, letting the little droid land on her shoulder. Truth be told, their escape was odd, and some of the things about it didn’t add up. She hoped Vaughn would shed some light on it, but apparently not, at least not without her giving up more of their own guilt in the matter. “Maybe she scrambled their logs so it looked like we came in on a different ship?”

“Possible, but doubtful. That’s the other curious thing about it all, her memory is blank between leaving the control room and re-emerging on the Tempest.”

“What?” Luz gasped, and Powpow mimicked the sound with a surprised little chirp of her own.

Vaughn raised an amused eyebrow at the droid. “I noticed that right away. It doesn’t seem she’s even aware that it’s missing. The evidence would suggest that you had some unexpected help, but whoever or whatever it came from, they didn’t want to be known.”

Luz sank down into a seat at that news, racking her brain for an explanation, and Nox let out a disturbed sounding grunt at the information. Had she recognized anyone at the slave auction? She had really been avoiding making eye contact with anyone, truth be told, and only her eyes would have been visible to anyone else. Maybe Riyo sent someone to watch their backs, to be safe. She wouldn’t have put it past her friend to do something like that. But then why would Powpow have erased her memory of the encounter?

“It’s less surprising than you may think,” Vaughn said, frowning. “I found some other interesting modules on your droid myself but haven’t gotten to ask. What connection do you have to the Jedi?”

Luz gave him a blank look and he paused his work, he and Nox both staring at her curiously.

“You have a connection to the Jedi?” Nox asked in disbelief.

“I don’t think so!” Luz protested.

Vaughn fixed her with a scrutinizing look. “Well, there must be something.”

“What does that have to do with Kowak anyways?” She said a little defensively, but she was absolutely baffled by the question, that didn’t make any sense at all.

“Humor me.”

Luz blinked rapidly back at him a few times, but she really didn’t have anything to go off of. She tried to wrack her brain. “Not much you don’t already know about, really. I’ve met a couple over the years but that’s not uncommon. And I know some of their names because of you guys. You and Nox have Skywalker, Ridgeback has Commander Tamber, the 212th has Kenobi, General Nara leads the 407th now, thank the kriffing stars.”

“That’s not it. Anything else?”

“I don’t know, nothing notable, pretty sure.”

“Hmm. Then that remains a mystery as well.”

She looked at him incredibly confused. “What does? Really Vaughn, what did you find?”

“Yeah, what the hell is in there?” Nox seconded.

Vaughn sighed. “A program titled Protocol: Jedi. Set to alert a list of people who I can only assume to be your entire family if the presence of a Jedi is detected. It became quite the little battle of wills between me and Powpow out on the actual battlefront, while I was busy trying to fight alongside three Jedi Generals.”

Nox’s eyes narrowed for a second, then widened in silent recognition.

“Why would she have that?” Luz screwed up her face.

“I was hoping you could tell me, but apparently not. Maybe your parents will have answers, or whoever was responsible for her original programming.”

Somehow, Luz doubted that. For all the progress they had made recently, Ama was still tight lipped as ever about certain topics, and oddly-specific-protection-protocols built into childhood toys had Ama written all over it. If Luz hadn’t even been aware of this existing before, chances were, that was by design. But maybe she could go about finding answers on that topic another way.

Suddenly Vaughn drew in a sharp breath. Look glanced up questioningly at him and saw his face stricken with distress. Nox had gone pale.

“...What did you find?” She asked with trepidation.

Vaughn kept his eyes focused on the data, his face darkening as he finished reading, before he responded.

“I found… Some of Watchers’ men,” he said slowly, and Nox sucked in a sharp breath. “Thirty-nine clones, sale credited to House Serreno. It appears that Count Dooku isn’t even attempting to hide his involvement… Which either indicates he fears no repercussions, or he himself is the cover for someone else.”

“Like who?” Luz whispered.

“No idea,” Vaughn said darkly. “All were purchased by a Kellux Mining Co. But… there’s more.” 

“How many more are we talking?” Nox just about whispered in a tight voice.

Vaughn exhaled. “Many more. I’m seeing at least a couple hundred of our brothers who have been through this place, and some of these batches I know I can trace back to Krell. But…” His voice drifted off and he punched something into the holotable. Another data set appeared next to the first, and Luz scrunched up her face to peer at it. 

“Hmm… yes. That’s what I thought,” Vaughn muttered, more to himself than anything. “These numbers…”

“What?” Nox demanded, leaning forward with a white-knuckle grip on the back of Vaughn’s seat.

Vaughn leaned back with a scowl. “This is the data set of battles Crow and I have identified where it is probable that Krell left men to die or be captured,” he explained, gesturing to the new data he had just pulled up. “We have good estimates of how many may be still out there from each battle, and the data you’ve found us shows another pattern. Within two standard weeks after each of these battles, clones were sold at this auction.”

“Karking bast-“

“What kind of shabla game are they-”

“But,” Vaughn interrupted her before either of them could get too far down a string of expletives, and they both fell silent, “Either our calculations were incorrect, or… or there are six men missing from the number of clones brought to auction. Every time.”

Luz took a sharp breath in. “And… the chances that you were wrong are…”

“Highly unlikely, when you account for our own activity.”

“What do you mean?” Nox said suspiciously.

Vaughn gestured at the two data sets before him. “There were sixty-four men listed as MIA on Krell’s battle report. Thirty-nine were sold at auction, but since we encountered nineteen who were directly sold to the Hutts-”

“I get it, Nox growled. “Six unaccounted for…”

“Too specific to be actual MIA troopers or part of the death toll,” Vaughn said quietly.

”Yeah… I… I don’t like what this implies. Krell…”

Luz put a steadying hand on Nox’s lower back as he shuddered and trailed off, not that she felt very steady herself at the moment. 

Vaughn closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “It doesn’t bode well… I’m not sure any of us know what he was truly capable of, what Dooku might have asked or what he did with the unaccounted for clones... Not that the men we do see in this data set are much better off,” He said miserably. “I need to think on this.”

Luz stared hard at the information between them and tried to make her mind focus on the numbers, willing some sort of pattern or missing piece to jump out at her with all the answers, but nothing did. “Well, what about the ones we know were sold? We can at least start by tracking them down, can’t we?” She asked at long last, trying to keep discouragement and fear out of her voice. “And a couple of these numbers still don’t add up.”

“Likely because there are still survivors out there. We ought to plan a mission, if it isn’t too late,” Vaughn said darkly. “But many of the ones on the ledger will be near impossible to retrieve.”

Luz could feel her own defiant resolve bubbling up at the words. They already had more men than expected with fates unknown. She wanted to tell Vaughn she was up for it, they could do it, just to point her and she would make it happen, that they owed it to find the men they could. But he had been right about their last job being too much for them to handle. They had barely made it out, and from the sounds of it, it wasn’t even Vaughn’s expertise which ultimately saved them. Without this mysterious outside help, who knows where they would have ended up? She took a deep breath instead of arguing and waited for his explanation.

He sighed heavily, peering closely at the scrawling data before him with tired eyes. “Most of the remaining men have been purchased by the Pyke Syndicate.”

“No…” Luz breathed, horror struck. “That means…”

“Kessel,” Vaughn spat. “Yes.”

Nox didn’t bother saying anything, but Luz saw the way he visibly deflated at the news. Vaughn didn’t need to say anything else. They already had one close call with the Pykes and Luz wasn’t confident they would survive another. Besides, she might be able to navigate a maelstrom like the one that surrounded that planet under otherwise good conditions, but she was nowhere near skilled enough a pilot to make the Kessel Run in a firefight. Even if they did manage to make it to the place under false pretenses, and even if they did manage to find the enslaved clones and break them out, they would certainly meet heavy resistance trying to escape. The Tempest would be torn to pieces. 

“But we know about Kellux,” She said quietly. “And these other two battles, and the other small buyers in here. Let’s focus on that, and any other one-off places you can pull info on. I’ll make runs for just one clone at a time if I need to.”

“I know you will,” Vaughn sighed and nodded up at her, and Nox glanced sideways to give her a weak, appreciative smile. “There is still a chance that Skywalker would be interested in this information, too. He’s not above dealing with scum and villainy like the Pykes. Perhaps he can work something out. I’d say diplomatically, but, knowing him it would be fairly… Aggressive negotiations.”

“They’d deserve those,” Nox muttered under his breath, and Luz nodded. She was plenty familiar with the General’s reputation and, truth be told, she really wouldn’t mind siccing Skywalker on the Pykes of all people. 

“I can bring it to my benefactor, too,” She said instead. "I’m not sure what can be done about the Pykes but maybe we can pull together some resources on Kellux and the others, find out some more about those operations.”

“She has certainly proved to be a good resource in the past,” Vaughn said thoughtfully. 

Luz’s jaw dropped. “I never said she was a she-”

“Well, you did just now,” Vaughn spoke, giving her a plaintive look, and her heart dropped. 

“Why do - How do you - What?!” She spluttered, much to Nox’s confusion, but that didn’t make sense! She had never revealed Riyo’s identity to the clones before, that information was supposed to stay secret for everyone’s protection, but here Vaughn was, smirking at her about it without saying a word! Luz had always been very careful not to mention the Senator by name to the clones or the clones by name to the Senator, other than Claggor, anyways, and a couple who had died...

“You forget I’m a slicer, too. I have my resources” Vaughn said with a teasing grin.

What the hell did he know? Luz went absolutely Corrie-red in the face, and Nox gave her a questioning little frown, which absolutely did not help.

“Well anyways,” She said nervously, not even sure how to cover for that and just hoping to change the subject to literally anything else, “So you’re saying we’ve got Kellux, Pykes, not to mention the kriffing war, some secret Jedi warning system in my old toy, some mysterious helpful ghost saving Nox and I from certain doom…”

Vaughn twisted in his seat to give her an unreadable look as she listed it all off, and her expression faltered. Shit. This whole thing really was karked in every direction.

“I mean… You were right,” She mumbled, staring hard at the floor. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“Get what over with, exactly?”

Luz let out a defensive huff, but Vaughn looked genuinely confused, and his eyes were soft. Nox made a short quick gesture to her to shut up, but she shook her head. It had to be coming, didn’t it? Vaughn wasn’t an idiot and she didn’t want to keep waiting for it to hit her out of nowhere, it was better to just do it now…

“Are you expecting a lecture?” Vaughn asked plainly.

“Yes,” Nox groaned, crossing his arms against his chest, looking dejected.

“We messed up, we know we did,” Luz cried. “We pushed too much, we got in too deep, you were right that I couldn’t handle sticking to the task in a place like that and we almost - no, we did get ourselves captured for it. We should be gone now! So just say it.” Her voice trembled a bit with the words but she steadied herself with a deep breath. It scared her to think about these days, knowing how close they had come to a horrible fate. Nox crumbling to the floor, being dragged away, the searing pain against her chest -

“It looks to me like you’re saying it all just fine yourself,” Vaughn observed, glancing between her anxious fidgeting and Nox’s closed off brooding with something almost like amusement. “But, if I can offer some advice instead...”

Luz raised an eyebrow in suspicion. That wasn’t the response she expected but it wasn’t over yet. Nevertheless, she asked for this, so she nodded.

“I think you already knew your limits when you came to us with this plan,” Vaughn said gently, “But respecting our limits and pushing the boundaries of what we think we are capable of are equally important. It can be difficult to discern which one to adhere to if given the choice, but ultimately, it is a choice you need to make yourself. That’s why, ultimately, I let you go, even against my better judgment.”

“So we chose wrong,” Nox said miserably. “We know.”

“From a certain point of view,” Vaughn mused, “But by all… technical accounts, objectively speaking and based off results alone… your mission was a success.”

Luz snorted just a little at all the disclaimers he put on that statement and the sour look on his face as he said it.

“The point is. You’ve both chosen this… Unorthodox cause. Luz, if I am honest, I never expected you to. I never thought Crow would find a nat-born willing to work with us for no recognition or pay when I agreed to let him try, but, I suppose that’s a lesson learned not to underestimate his tenacity,” He continued solemnly. “And I take it you intend to continue doing so, even though we all know you are not obligated to.”

Luz nodded again, eagerly this time. Of course she did. They were some of her dearest friends. 

“And Nox… Your role in this has never once surprised me,” Vaughn said with a tenderness in his voice Luz had only heard once before, on a particular holo... It made something catch in her throat, and from the way Nox looked up, the guarded look cautiously slipping away, he must have felt something similar at hearing it. “I don’t normally make rash decisions of this nature at all, but asking you to join our efforts simply made sense. It was an easy choice, the easiest I’ve ever made in our mission, and I’ve never once regretted it. Yes, even now,” He said with a soft smile that seemed to melt away the rest of Nox’s worries in an instant, to Luz’s relief.

"I know you both intend to keep up this fight, and I doubt I could talk either of you out of it even if I wanted to… So I'll tell you from experience. There are always going to be things that you could have done differently. There are always going to be choices you wish you could take back, losses you suffer, comrades and friends you let down..." He trailed off for a brief second as a shadow crossed over his face, and Luz's heart twisted. He was talking about Ahsoka, wasn't he? But she wasn't about to say as much, and no sooner did she have that realization than he continued on.

"You will not always make the right decision, even with all the intel or wisdom or willpower you can muster. None of those things alone will stop the atrocities of war. So you must reflect on your mistakes when you make them. Learn from your failures, admit them, forgive them, and move forward. Never forget to move forward. Make the best decision you know how to make, give yourself grace if it isn’t enough, rest if you must, but keep going, with greater wisdom the next time. That’s all you can ask of anyone when you’re in a fight like this, most of all yourself."

She sat silently for a moment, letting the words sink in, and Nox met her eyes again, doing the same. Deserved or not, maybe they both had already beaten themselves up about Kowak enough. No matter how they ultimately chose to define their last mission, at the end of it, they possessed valuable intel that could save many more people out there - it may not be them all, not yet, but it was so many more than they had before, and each and every one of them mattered. 

Vaughn was right. It was time they moved forward again, albeit more wisely this time, to continue the fight.

Chapter Text

Fox could have cried in relief at the sight of Milo in the doorway of his duracrete office. He’d spent the last two weeks unable to eat even his daily quarter ration, guzzling caf to keep from collapsing in lieu of even the measly nutrition the damn things offered, terrified at the idea that he had made a horrible mistake sending his men off with a kriffing nat-born. Milo was back, though. It would be a lie to say his vod’ika was safe now, but at least he was here. 

He swallowed down the lump that it brought to his throat before speaking. “CT-27-6456,” Fox addressed his vod in practiced monotone. “Come inside please. Close the door.”

Milo obliged wordlessly, maintaining the strict professionalism Fox tried so hard to instill in all his men while there might be prying eyes around, but the second the door clicked shut behind him Fox dropped all pretense and crossed the room in two big strides to clasp a hand on his brothers shoulder.

“Helmet off, vod. Let me see you.”

His voice was thick with worry but that hardly mattered. Milo pulled his helmet off right away and Fox exhaled as he took in his face, eyes tracing quickly over his skin with a pit in his stomach. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked with trepidation. There didn’t appear to be any new injuries, no bruises or cuts or scars that he could see, and that eased the slightest bit of his worries, not that he would be able to fully relax until Stitch confirmed his vod was really okay. 

“No. I’m perfectly fine,” Milo assured him. “And so are Skip and Harrow. They’re… They’re safe.”

Fox exhaled, finally looking Milo in the eyes with a skeptical frown, but his vod’ika’s expression was painfully gentle and sincere. 

“Really,” Milo insisted. “It’s… It was better than what you said to expect there. The villagers didn’t even seem to know we weren’t people. They gave us coats and scarves, told stories around a fire, shared their food…”

Milo tugged at something concealed just below his armor, something blue, and pulled free a piece of a scarf he had wrapped around up against his blacks for Fox to see. Fox hesitated a second before pinching the fabric between his fingers. It was soft. Far softer than almost anything his men had been given on Coruscant, and Milo grinned as that realization must have shown on Fox’s face.

“We have a new shiny in my squad,” Milo said quietly. “He's been missing his batchmates. I think he’ll appreciate this.”

Fox felt just a little bit of the tension unknot itself in his empty stomach. He was sure the kid would. Moreso, though, a report like that coming from anyone else wouldn’t mean a damn thing, but there was good reason he chose Milo for a mission this important. Not only was Milo one of his most highly trained men, easily on par with the ARC troopers the GAR took so much pride in, but he had an intuitive understanding of how best to protect himself and his brothers, whether in the Senate or on the streets from entitled and dangerous nat-borns. He followed all of Fox’s rules on the matter because he believed in them, not just to do as he was told. His instincts and reads on delicate situations could be trusted, Fox knew it. 

Still, the risk it was to ask something like this of his kih’vod had haunted him. If anything had gone wrong? If his little brother who trusted him implicitly had come back hurt? Or not at all?

“Can I show you something else?”

Fox snapped his eyes back up to Milo’s face and his eyebrows arced up in question.

“I ah… Think you should have a taste of Skip and Harrow’s new life,” Milo said just a little sheepishly, fumbling for one of the pouches on his belt and pulling a small bar wrapped in purple foil.

“What’s this?” Fox asked suspiciously.

“Choklad,” Milo grinned. “It’s food. Try it. You did good, Fox. I promise.”

Milo broke off a small piece of it and held it out to Fox, but Fox shook his head.

“You should share that with your brothers, Milo. I don’t need it.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Milo said firmly, “You are my brother. And you need to know… Please.”

Fox sighed, gearing up to protest again, he wasn’t about to deny his men such a rare treat if it came from a trustworthy place and he did trust Milo but that didn’t mean he deserved to have any himself. But Milo fixed him with a look that was so blazingly eager, excited, and hopeful… How could Fox say no to that?

He reluctantly took the piece of choklad Milo offered, for his sake, and popped it into his mouth.

…oh.

As soon as it hit his tongue it began to melt, a flavor unlike anything he had tasted before in his life. It was sweet, or at least what he imagined sweet would taste like based on the smells of the desserts various senators had eaten during fancy dinners and galas he was made to attend. It was smooth, too, though, unlike the granular rations, and rich, like blood, but better than blood, and something else…

“Good, yeah?” Milo’s voice drifted into his awareness again, and Fox realized he had closed his eyes as he tried to process what he was experiencing. He snapped them open, staring at Milo practically in disbelief, and nodded.

“Skip and Harrow get to have that every day now,” Milo said with the slightest waver in his voice, cupping a hand behind Fox’s neck and pulling him into a gentle keldabe. “Whenever they want. They’ll make it into a drink and put it in food and eat it plain. You did that, and so much more for them. They’re safe. They’re happy. They’re valued. I know you had doubts, but we both know what would have happened if they stayed here, and you saved them, understand?”

Kriff, Fox couldn’t help it, hot tears prickled at the edges of his eyes, the choklad had all melted in his mouth now but he could still taste it. There was so little he could do right these days, so many limits to the ways he could protect his brothers and more every day, more failures, more scars and injuries he couldn’t prevent, more decom orders he scrambled to cover up, more brokenhearted shinies learning the hard way what being stationed here really meant, more hunger, more good men he knew he was letting down despite his every effort not to, no matter what he did. And the Chancellor was quick to remind him of it all, just how helpless he really was in the long run…

But he did this.

Skip and Harrow… They really were safe. Milo wouldn’t lie about that. He could trust him… Fox had saved them. He had done something right. 

And now they had the chance to live.

He took a shuddering breath, and felt Milo’s grip steady on the back of his head. Fox wasn’t sure what to say to that. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but it was something. 

Milo made no attempt to break the moment, if anything his eyes sparkled as Fox let out a low breath and came to terms with it all. A knock came at the door that tore them apart anyways. Fox straightened up and tried to compose himself, not that he would fool his vod on the other side. When he pulled the door open Stitch marched himself wordlessly in, his brow crumpled as bad as Fox’s had been, med scanner already in hand. Fox closed the door again quickly. Stitch likely had a lot to say and his CMO wasn’t known for self-restraint.

“You made it back,” Stitch said with a deeply concerned huff. “Let me look you over, two weeks is too damn long. Tell me everything that happened.”

“I’m not hurt,” Milo said with a small, obliging grin, stepping back and holding his arms out to be scanned. “Fox was right about Alzoc, I was just telling him. Our men are as safe there as we could hope for. They’ll be okay.”

“Of course Fox was right about that,” Stitch scowled, his face still full of worry, but there was a confidence and warmth to his voice Fox could clearly hear. “But you just spent half that trip alone with the kriffing Nat-born…”

The scanner beeped as it finished, and Milo dropped his arms to his side. “I know. I followed all Fox’s rules, though, just as we discussed, and nothing happened.”

Stitch, though, inhaled sharply, staring at the medical scanner as if perplexed, and Fox’s heart plummeted. 

“Vod, what-“

“He gained weight,” Stitch cut him off sharply, and Fox froze. Stitch blinked at the med scanner a couple more times, as if afraid he was reading it incorrectly, like that was even possible for the best medic in the GAR to do. “How the fuck did you gain weight?” Stitch repeated, eyes narrowing in something almost like disbelief.

Milo looked quickly to Fox, hesitating, and Fox pursed his lips. This was probably something he should have told Stitch about ahead of time, he should have had the forethought, he should have found a minute to give his CMO that update somewhere between patrol duty and the Chancellors demands and the mountain of flimsiwork on his desk, but at least he would take Stitch’s wrath for it now, so Milo wouldn’t have to.

“I allowed him to eat Luz’s food,” He admitted. “As an exception.”

“An exception?!” Stitch rounded on Fox in an instant, just as Fox knew he would. “Are you fucking kidding me? Exception my ass, what if it was poisoned? What if it was drugged? She could have done anything to it-“

“I conducted a search of her food stores and supplies the first night we were there after she went to sleep,” Milo reported. “Didn’t find anything of that sort, just some triptans. I… Guess she gets migraines sometimes.”

“She could have hidden it.”

“Maybe, but I checked the smuggling compartments, too,” Milo countered evenly. “Just standard GAR weapons and spare blacks and… A lot of blankets.”

Stitch still looked like he was about to pop a vein, but his expression turned the slightest bit thoughtful.

“She ate the food herself, too. And I kept an eye to make sure she didn’t do anything to our portions… It would have been easy to spot. Trust me. She’s not that subtle.”

“Skip and Harrow got to keep more rations that way,” Fox interjected. “Just in case…”

Stitch let out a disgruntled sigh at that explanation, trading his glare between Fox, Milo, and the medical scanner in his hands, before speaking again. 

“Fine,” He bit out. “Nothing to do about it now. I’d just rather have you hungry than dead, vod, but it’s not like either are kriffing great.”

Fox nodded his own miserable agreement. It wasn’t as though any part of this plan was something he wanted to resort to, but what choice had there been? Between the guaranteed danger the two men were in on Coruscant and the potential danger the Alzoc mission posed, Fox knew what he had to do, and he would do anything to protect his kih’vode, even this. 

That didn’t mean the decision weighed lightly on him, or that the consequences wouldn’t hurt if they came.

But they hadn’t. Milo was back, he was unharmed, truly. He even, by all accounts, returned healthier, and if this first mission had gone well, perhaps Fox could utilize the girl again, in desperate situations…

“I know,” Milo was saying, his voice full of the solemnity and weight Fox knew Stitch needed to hear in the moment. “I’m alright, though. It’s not like I trust the nat-born either, but… She didn’t try anything from what I saw, I can report that much….”

He trailed off, and Fox narrowed his eyes. “Is there something else you need to tell us?” Fox said in an undertone. 

Stitch’s lip curled in a way that told Fox his medic had caught their brothers sudden uncertainty, too, and was already assuming the worst, but Milo let out a quick sigh and gave Fox a patronizing grin.

“Nothing bad, sir. Just…” He hesitated a moment, then swung the pack off his back and stopped down to unbuckle it. Fox and Stitch both looked on, bristling as Milo pulled out a small glass container full of… Something.

Stitch and Fox shared a tense, confused glance.

“Luz… Taught me how to make some of the food myself on our return trip,” He said nervously, and Fox’s heart twinged. Milo wasn’t typically nervous, not more than necessary anyways, for self-preservation and common sense’s sake. “I… I made this,” He gulped, holding out the glass container and peeling back the lid. “I - I think we deserve to have food like this too, sometimes.”

The smell wafted into the room instantly, and Fox’s heart raced. Even the fancy dinners he had been forced to attend didn’t have anything that smelled quite like it, and after the choklad, the aroma was almost too much for his senses. 

“It’s Felicia Toast,” Milo was explaining quickly, words tumbling nervously out of his mouth. “It’s thick sliced bread dunked in a batter made of eggs and blue milk and… And spices like cinnamon and… You fry it in butter and top it with syrup and cream and fruit, I know it sounds like a lot, it’s probably better fresh and warm, I made this one a day ago on the ship-“

Fox glanced at Stitch, who was turning an ugly shade of purple. 

“Vod,” Stitch seethed, “I’m glad that you’re okay. I’m glad that the girl didn’t kill you but if you think thats enough reason to let your fucking guard down-“

“I didn’t,” Milo challenged, despite the anxiety on his face that was probably the only thing keeping Stitch’s protective rage in check right now. “I wouldn’t. I - I’d feel better cooking for them myself on these missions, that way I know exactly what’s in it and- and you can scan it, can’t you? To make sure it’s clean?”

Fox frowned. Milo was going somewhere with this, he could feel it.

“I can,” Stitch said, his voice practically dripping with paranoia.

“Then…” Milo mumbled, holding out the glass container with slightly trembling hands, fixing them both with a pleading look that made something tighten in Fox’s chest. 

“Scan it, Stitch” Fox said softly.

Stitch’s eyebrows shot up in shock and indignation, he opened his mouth to protest, but Fox shook his head.

“It can’t hurt now,” He explained. And clearly, this meant a lot to his vod’ika. Milo was usually among his most stoic, level-headed men. He wasn’t one to get nervous or excited easily, but after the risk he took to save Skip and Harrow, when Fox couldn’t have gone on the mission himself? After bringing back choklad just to try and prove that they were really okay? After his encouragement that Fox would be clinging to for months? His little brother deserved the world, and Fox couldn’t bear to see that little spark in his eye get crushed.

Stitch shot him a searching side-eye, but slowly, he pulled out his scanner, scowling at it and muttering under his breath as he punched in the necessary adjustments and held it over the dish. A few second passed before it beeped twice.

“…It’s clean,” Stitch said with the vaguest hint of relief.

Fox nodded and Milo let out a sigh.

“You can share that with the others,” Fox said tiredly, sinking down into his office chair next to the pile of flimsiwork he couldn’t put off much longer. “Bring it straight to the barracks, keep it hidden, and dispose of the container. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

Milo grinned, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet, and Fox paused.

“…Would you try it first, sir?” He asked hopefully.

Fox froze on the spot. The choklad was enough. He shouldn’t have anything else, a treat like that should really go to Milo’s squad mates or the newest shell shocked shinies or the tired men returning to their barracks after 16 hour shifts, not him. He opened his mouth to protest again, he didn’t need anything else, not as much as the others, but the look in Milo’s eyes made the words die in his throat. 

Dammit. He wasn’t going to be able to say no to this without watching that spark in his eye go out, was he? The kid was practically holding his breath, and Fox couldn’t let him down, not now.

With a resigned sigh, Fox mustered up a small smile and nodded. 

“You-“ Stitch started, but quickly snapped his jaw shut, staring wide-eyed at Fox, but joy flooded Milo’s face. Fox’s heart twisted. It was good he didn’t just kark that up, he couldn’t have stood it if he did. Milo set the little dish on his desk, awkwardly plopped a small metal utensil into the center of it, and stood back in anticipation.

Stitch fixed Fox with a brooding, deeply curious look as he stabbed the little metal thing into the dish the way he had seen Senators use it, successfully spearing a piece of the soft, gooey substance, and popping it quickly in his mouth.

It squished. 

That was unexpected. Fox wasn’t used to the texture, the closest thing he could compare it to was the caf sludge he had tried a couple times by crumbling his quarter ration bar into a mug of caf and pretending it was more filling that way, but it didn’t taste anything like that. It was as sweet as the choklad, maybe more so, but more complex than that. There were competing flavors and he barely had words for any of them!

Without thinking he took a second bite, only to look up to see Stitch’s face twist with shock for a second before something seemed to dawn on the man and the look melted into something else, something… Malicious. Milo seemed to be close to tears at his side. Fox wasn’t sure what to make of either of them, so he swallowed hard.

“It’s… Very good, vod,” Fox told him sincerely. “You did well. That’s all I should probably have, though.”

“I’m glad you like it Sir,” Milo exhaled a little shakily, and Fox nodded as his brother scooped up the rest of the dish. Even just those two bites left Fox’s previously empty stomach feeling oddly full.

“Because I think all our brothers should get to eat like this sometimes…”

Fox blinked at his vod’ika, then narrowed his eyes. “They should,” He said carefully. “Out with it, Milo. What exactly are you proposing?”

“Iwanttocookforourbrothers,” Milo said in a rush of words Fox could hardly pick apart before taking a breath. “I - Luz can help get ingredients, I thought if we scanned them all first to be safe, and if I cooked it - and I could train some of the others too! I-“

That sounded like a horrible plan. They couldn’t, just because Luz fed him for a few days didn’t mean she could feed the whole guard, and it definitely didn’t mean they should trust her to!

“-has a contact. She does relief work, no one would even have to know where the food is going, we could set up a rotation schedule so everyone gets to-“

“Milo,” Fox reluctantly cut him off, feeling a stab of guilt as he did. “I don’t think-“

“It’s a good idea, Fox.”

Fox jerked his head towards his CMO in complete shock, but Stitch met his gaze with arms crossed and a devious glint in his eye. The Felicia Toast curled in his stomach. That look coming from Stitch immediately gave Fox a bad feeling.

“He would have to try and make the meals a little more nutritious. Felicia Toast contains a lot of sugars, our men need more balanced foods, but after the latest cuts I’d be glad to supplement our diets with kriffing starch crisps.”

“Stitch-“

“Three quarters of our men are underweight! And the shinies make up most of the ones who aren’t,” Stitch glowered. “And you’re the worst of them, Fox. If we scan the food to make sure it’s safe first and no one but us touches it after, I don’t care where the fuck it comes from, there’s no reason we shouldn’t take advantage.”

“What if it stops?” Fox countered. “What if we rely on that and then it vanishes?”

“Then we adapt, and we have a greater stockpile of rations to supplement when that day comes. We’ll take what we can get now and hoard the extras while we damn well can.”

Fox dropped his head into his hands. He could veto this, he could override it, but… But even Stitch was smiling. It was an evil, conniving smile, but a smile nonetheless, and when was the last time he saw his vod do that? 

Probably a year ago, if he thought about it. The one time when Fox actually let himself be dragged off to bed in lieu of another cup of caf, and a mistake he hadn’t let himself make since.

But even besides that… They both made good points. The excuses Fox could think of to say no to the idea had already been countered, and his men were suffering, no matter what he did. Besides, he trusted Milo, maybe if it was someone else he would have doubts but Milo had clearly thought through every angle of this, taken every possible precaution when coming up with his plan, and perhaps most importantly, hadn’t attempted to enact it behind Fox’s back, like some troopers would.

He tried hard not to think of specific examples (Crow). It was going to give him more gray hairs, but at the end of it all, he knew Milo and Stitch were right. Fox loved his men, they were hungry, and there was so little he could do about that. They had presented him with a solution. How could he deny this to any of them?

“We… can try it,” He spoke at long last. “If Stitch agrees that it’s safe.”

Stitch clasped his hands together in victory and Milo lit up as if Life Day came early and the clones were actually allowed to celebrate it. 

“Thank you!” Milo cried. “I can’t wait to have you try more of it sir, I-“

“I don’t need anything spec…” Fox started, but gave up as the smile faltered on Milo’s face for the slightest second. “I appreciate it,” he sighed instead. It wasn’t like he would be able to eat much of it anyways if the kid insisted on bringing him more special foods. He would probably try to give them to Thorn. His little brother was always ravenous, but stubbornly refused to finish Fox’s uneaten rations.

Stitch’s smile twitched into something positively gleeful at Fox’s words, though. “We need to talk about nutritional value and safe practices for food storage and preparation,” his CMO said in a conspiratorial tone. “Tell me everything you’ve learned so far and I’ll tell you what’s banthashit.”

“Well… I know everything is better with butter.”

“No.”

Stitch draped an arm around Milo’s shoulders and steered him back towards Fox’s doorway, shoving Milo’s helmet back into his hands and giving Fox a smug little nod before they went. Fox just shook his head. It was rare for his CMO to be in a mood like this, but he supposed the prospect of feeding his vode would do it. Fox himself would love to be able to make a bigger difference in that regard himself, but eating less than his own share only helped one man at a time. He was already buried in flimsiwork to do, decom orders to fake, senators to appease, men to protect, the Chancellor to answer to…

With the door shut behind him, Fox started in on the mountain of data pads piled up next to his desk. He wasn’t sure how much time passed by the time another knock came at his door, but judging by the deep disapproving scowl on Stitch’s face as he entered, Fox must have worked through the night again. 

“Milo made an omelette,” Stitch announced, pushing a blushing Milo into the office from behind. “He wants you to try it.”

Fox blinked twice at his CMO before his bleary thoughts caught up with the moment. Milo stood in his doorway, holding something yellow and spongy-looking on a plate with those big kriffing tooka eyes, and suddenly, he realized exactly why Stitch had gotten so excited the day before. 

He also realized Stitch was going to be dead right. Milo really shouldn’t have gone to the trouble, but Fox would never want to disappoint his vod’ika.

“Alright,” Fox conceded, stifling a yawn, and Milo shuffled forward to place the dish gingerly on his desk. It didn’t smell nearly so sweet this time, but it was still warm, little tufts of steam rising up from it. He carefully sliced off a small piece with the edge of the utensil Milo handed him and bit into it.

The taste was very different from the day before and Fox wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but it seemed to give him a new burst of energy on the spot, and suddenly he was three bites in. Milo’s face was brimming with delight, Stitch was positively gloating, and Fox was doomed. 

“Do you like it?” Milo asked.

“I do, vod,” Fox said encouragingly, letting himself take just one more bite for good measure, to make sure Milo knew he meant it. “This is good. You have a talent.”

He didn’t understand why those words coming from him made Milo smile quite like that, but it sent Fox’s heart soaring, to see the effect. Maybe Fox could still do something right after all, at least this one small thing, for his one vod, to make him feel special.

Which meant that, apparently, Stitch’s little plan was going to work.

And it was worth it. 

Chapter Text

The doors of the lift slid open on the industrial rooftop and Trapper stepped out into the night air with a grin. He had been meaning to come here with his new ade, the pair of shiny Corrie’s who had no business being deployed to any part of the GAR at their age, before the 212th’s shore leave was up and he shipped out again. Until now, it hadn’t worked out, but the pair of them managed to catch a lucky couple of shifts off in a row on the last possible night, so they’d finally made it. Trapper felt almost giddy to see them following just behind.

“Almost there now,” He assured them. “Best view of Coruscant in the whole city is just ahead!”

The two kids followed cautiously after him as he marched across the roof, slipping between various pipes and exhaust systems to reach the ladder on the other side, and he began to climb. This wasn’t one of the high class skyscrapers like Senators and celebrities lived in, where the rooftops were fancy and luxurious, featuring an exclusive bar or club or a state-of-the-art swimming pool with designer furniture. Three clone troopers would be too easy to spot if that were the case, so it wasn’t worth the effort, even to Crow, who in a moment of rare common-kriffing-sense had found this spot instead. 

The views from this old building, the one with several floors left unrented and an outer lift you only needed a four digit code to access, were just as good. Better, probably, just because no one would bother them here while they gazed at the cityscape or watched the ever changing sky. Crow had brought Trapper and Link here a couple times since they reconnected to reminisce about their cadet days and spend much needed time together. It was a precious place. And now, he got to share it.

He reached the top and pulled himself up, turned around, and offered a hand to Snap, who took it with an elated smile and let Trapper help him the rest of the way up. Snap dusted himself off and Trapper reached out to his other kid, who hadn’t chosen a name for himself yet, and pulled him up too, clapping him gently on the back once he stood upright, catching his breath.

“You can see it all from up here,” Trapper said softly to them both as they started to take in the sight. Snap slowly raised his holocam to snap a picture and Trapper slipped a pair of binocs out from his pack to hand to his other ad. “That patch over there, with the little rows in front? That's headquarters. You can see the First Battle Memorial with the binocs, might even be able to read some of the numbers.”

“There’s… There’s so many lights,” Snap breathed. 

“Not all of them are from ships either. Out here, we’re a little further from the biggest ship lanes, so on a clear night like this, you can really see the stars.”

The two kids - and they were kids, Trapper wasn’t going to shake that feeling anytime soon, they should never have been deployed this young, no matter how desperate the Republic was to replenish their fallen men - craned their necks back to look up in awe, past the handful of ships to search for the stars. Trapper got to see their faces light up as each of them spotted some, the tiny bright specs reflected in their deep brown eyes. 

Snap raised his holocam slowly again, pressed his eye to it, and let out a gasp. “Look!” He exclaimed! “It’s different through the lens and - Oooh, if I run this filter there’s SO MANY MORE!”

Trapper laughed along with him, taking the holocam gingerly from his hands and holding it up himself to peer through it. Sure enough, more than twice as many stars glistened overhead than he could see on his own, and Snap was practically bouncing on his heels in excitement as he handed it to his brother next, who’s jaw fell open at the sight.

“We could see them clearly on Kamino sometimes but… These are different,” His unnamed ad whispered, taking a minute to look around at it all before trading the holocam back for the binocs.

“The stars look different from every system,” Trapper smiled. “Even night to night, they change. Or we change. Everything is always moving in the galaxy, so the stars you see tonight are unique.”

“How does that work?” His kid asked quietly, lowering the binocs for a second to look up at him. 

Trapper furrowed his brow. “They… Didn’t teach you astronavigation? Or star-mapping?”

“Our training was cut short,” Snap reminded him. “We only got the basics.”

Trapper gritted his teeth at the reminder. “Right,” he huffed, settling a hand on his kids shoulder in reassurance. “I… Haven’t had to use it myself in a while, to be honest, and I don’t remember it that well. Maybe that’s why they cut it.”

“It was my favorite subject,” The unnamed boy sighed. 

“We could name you Astro?” Snap suggested with a shrug. “Or Star?”

But the kid shook his head and looked sheepishly down at his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Trapper said sincerely. “My batchmate Adrie always liked that topic, too. Maybe I can find you a… A report on it, or something. Or I bet Crow can.”

“I thought you said not to listen to Crow,” Snap said mischievously.

“I did, and you shouldn’t,” Trapper chuckled. “Listen, Crow is the type of vod who will get you both in AND out of bad situations. So if you ever find yourself in trouble, comm him, he knows I’ll give him hell if he karks that up. But don’t always take his advice or go along with his plans, for your own good,” Trapper explained. “You listen to your Commanders, they know this city best and they make those rules for good reason.”

“Yes, Buir,” Snap teased, and Trapper grinned. The kid could poke fun all he wanted, but they had been the ones to call him that name first, and he intended to take the title seriously, whether or not it was official in any way.

“What about Adrie?” His other ad asked quietly. “What’s he like?”

Trapper hesitated for a moment, trying to keep his face from falling at the question, but it was little use. He took a quick, steadying breath instead. “Adrie… Wanted to be a pilot,” He said slowly. “I found him on the top of the dorm roofs on Kamino more times than I could count, laying on his back, staring at the sky. Always dreaming. But he had more trouble than most cadets with g-forces. Passed written tests but didn’t score high enough on the practicums to qualify for sky corps… Still became a hell of a trooper, though, and a better brother. I think he might have taken it upon himself to make sure all our batchmates succeeded in their goals since he couldn’t reach his own.”

“What do you mean?” Snap asked, dropping down to sit on the edge of the rooftop and kicking his feet off the ledge.

“Triggs ended up becoming the pilot of our batch,” Trapper explained. “And half the reason he managed it was the help Adrie gave him studying for exams. He encouraged Crow with his slicing too, even if he wasn’t able to keep him out of trouble for it, and he gave Link extra training when he was falling behind. Link probably woulda been decommed without that... He helped me, too. I had a lot of trouble finding my own track and it made me feel lost for a while. I didn’t realize I was good with demolitions and explosives till he noticed I had a knack for it in a training exercise. It didn’t occur to me that it helps to have a cool head around that kind of firepower,” Trapper said wryly, shaking his head a little at the memory. “Adrie checked on all of us every day after we got deployed and split up, made sure we didn’t let Crow get away with ignoring us in the beginning…”

“So that’s why you still talk to Crow?” Snap asked.

“It seems like a lot of the Guard lost touch with their batchmates,” His brother chimed in. “They don’t check in and… We’re not really supposed to.”

“Oh, yeah. Adrie had none of that. And thankfully Crow didn’t try to shut us out for long,” Trapper smiled affectionately. “He’s too stubborn I guess. And so were we. Speaking of which, don’t shut out your batchmates, understand?” He said, giving each of them a firm look. “They might not understand everything but you need each other, I promise.”

Snap and his brother exchanged a crestfallen look at the words, and Trapper’s heart plummeted. 

“No… You didn’t already…” He asked incredulously, but Snap looked away and gave the tiniest nod.

“We… Already lost one,” Snap said in a small voice, and the other kid nodded along with a small sniff. “Dell…”

Trapper sank down to the durasteel floor with a heavy sigh at Snaps side and put a comforting arm around the kids shoulders. Snap sniffed again, harder that time, but after a moment of trying to hold it in he turned and crumpled into Trappers neck. 

They were much too young to know that kind of heartbreak. Some deep-seeded sense of injustice writhed in Trappers gut at the idea, at the reality that a baby-faced shiny just like his ade, in armor that their adolescent bodies still didn’t quite fill out, who should by all metrics still be a kriffing cadet, had died in a war that had taken too many of their brothers already. 

His other kid settled on the ground on Trappers other side and Trapper immediately looped him into a hug too, holding them both close in their grief as he rapidly blinked tears from his own eyes that were making the stars go blurry.

“I’m so sorry,” Trapper said solemnly. “I know the feeling, I really do. Nu kyr'adyc,”

“Shi taab'echaaj'la,” The pair of them muttered in unison, and Trapper nodded.

“You’ll see him again one day, but it’s okay for it to hurt while you’re apart.”

They sat in wordless silence for several minutes as both of his brave boys battled between the need to compose themselves pounded into their heads by their trainers and the need to let themselves feel the loss they hadn’t been prepared for, that no one could be, nonetheless anyone so young. Finally, as the rogue tears and shaky breaths started to subside, his kid who still needed a name asked another question.

“W-what happened to your batchmates?”

Trapper looked down at him again in mild surprise, but the kid had a sheepish, serious look on his face even with some of his hair falling down into his eyes. Trapper gently brushed it back.

“Well… There were five of us. Crow, Triggs, Adrie, Link, and myself,” He started slowly. “And you know Crow went on to become the biggest pain-in-the-shebs the GAR has ever seen,” Trapper said with an affectionate grumble, earning a watery smile and a half chuckle from each of his ade. “Link is alright. He… Drinks a lot these days. Spent a long time stranded on a remote planet after his platoon pulled out without him, and it took a toll, but he stays in touch. I’m still here, fighting for all my brothers. And… Adrie and Triggs have marched on.”

He left out how, at least for now. That was perhaps a story for another time. 

“Sorry, Buir,” His unnamed kid said softly into his shoulder, without a hint of sarcasm. 

A lump rose up in Trappers throat.

“I miss them,” Trapper said honestly. “And… That’s okay. We’re not just numbers, none of us are, we’re men, so it’s okay to… To mourn them.”

That seemed important to press upon his ade, before he shipped out, just in case. Their trainers never would have taught them anything of the sort and Coruscant wasn’t going to be kind, so they needed to hear it now, and internalize it best they could.

“But they’re not gone, not really. As long as we continue to remember them and honor them, they never will be.”

There was another pause in which no one said anything, but slowly, as all their breathing began to return to normal, the stars grew clearer once again.

“Now. Snap, you wanted to show me some of the holos you’ve been taking lately, didn’t you?” Trapper asked, just as his arms were beginning to ache from the position he was holding both his boys in. “You said you had some interesting shots of the rotunda at night?”

“Y-Yeah,” He stammered for a second, but then his smile turned bright. “You know how the Senators hoverpods are all silvery? That can have some really cool effects in holopics! I was safe about it too, no one but us Corries were there at night, it was so quiet…”

Trapper felt his spirits lift as Snap began to flip through the various holopics he had taken, with his brother pressing in to look over his shoulder and the pleasantly cool night air drifting about. Snap was right, there were some very interesting shots. The strange, abstract, artsy looking shapes and patterns he captured looked nothing like the inside of the rotunda, or at least, nothing like what he had seen from simple news footage. His ad really did have a talent for this, from what he could tell. All too soon, the slideshow was over, but Snap began snapping pictures of the three of them instead, starting with a couple basic poses holding the holocam backwards to catch them all smiling together at once, then taking progressively more elaborate and ridiculous holopics as they began to goof off. Soon the results had them all doubling over in laughter so much that Trapper felt the need to tug both kids a little closer to the middle of the small platform, just to be safe. 

Once they had all but laughed themselves out, Trapper pulled out the rations he had brought, insisting they both eat an entire bar no matter what banthashit they had been told about half-bars being enough for the Guard. After hearing that shabla excuse he also shoved all the rest of the rations he had on him into their bags, fixing them a look that swiftly silenced their protests when they tried to argue it. Before sunlight began to peek over the horizon, his yet-unnamed kid had fallen asleep on his lap, and Snap had snapped a couple candids of the moment with a mischievous little grin before falling asleep on Trapper himself, too. Trapper smirked as he got ahold of the holocam and turned it backwards like Snap had, snapping his own holopic of the three of them like that, prominently featuring Snap drooling all over his pauldron. 

But daylight eventually broke, and reluctantly, Trapper began to shake his kids awake with gentle hands.

“Snap… Hey, kid,” He said in an undertone. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get you both back to base.”

“Mhhmmm,” Snap groaned. “But ‘ts nice here…”

“Come on now, I know the Kaminoans never let you sleep in,” Trapper chuckled softly. “You know better than that.” 

The kid on his lap slowly stretched and pushed himself upright, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “Sorry,” He muttered. “Didn’t know I fell asleep…”

“It’s alright,” Trapper said lightly.

“Do we have to go back now?” He asked.

“I… Unfortunately, yes,” Trapper replied, furrowing his brow. Call it buir sense, but something told him there was more to that question, he just wasn’t sure what. The kid nodded, looking down at the ground with an odd sort of expression on his face, and Trapper pursed his lips. If he was going to be buir, he should probably listen to that feeling.

“Though we may have a few minutes,” He said a little uneasily. “Skywalker is leaving with us and he’s usually late, is… Is there something wrong?”

The kid’s eyebrows shot up at the question and he met Trappers eyes, opened his mouth, then shut it again, and shook his head.

“Come on vod,” Snap yawned. “It’s now or never.”

Trapper’s gut did a flip. He had been right. He did have buir sense! His kid bristled at the statement, eyes going wide with anxiety, but before Trapper could ask anything else or offer reassurance Snap rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“He wants your help picking a name before you go,” Snap said with an exasperated smile. “He’s just too chicken-shit to ask. And I’m not mean enough to just name him chicken-shit after he thought of Snap for me.”

“Is that true?” Trapper asked, excitement and other emotions rising in his chest that he tried to keep at least a little out of his voice, so he didn’t scare his ad if it wasn’t. But the glare that the kid shot at Snap had little heat in it, and when he looked back at Trapper there was so much uncertainty on his face that Trapper could tell it definitely was.

“Alright!” Trapper said eagerly, turning to face him. “I’d be glad to, of course it’s okay. Do you have any ideas?”

The kid’s cheeks darkened like mad in the hazy morning light and he looked away.

“What is it?” Trapper asked, his worry increasing, and he reached out to take his kids hand in his own. “Hey… Whatever it is, you can tell me, yeah? I’m sure it’s nothing stupid… It can’t be worse than chicken-shit.”

He saw the kid’s mouth twitch into a small grin at that. Trapper squeezed his hand encouragingly, and his ad took a deep breath.

“I… Was thinking of…” He gulped. “If there was a name that - that meant something to… to you… then maybe I…”

Oh. Trapper felt like he’d been punched right in the heart, in a good way, if that was even possible. He sucked in a breath and tears sprang to his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s stupid, I know it’s stupid. I - I’ll just go with chicken-shit or Lee or something, there’s a million Lee’s…”

“It’s not stupid,” Trapper said, his voice wavering. “It’s - I - I’m honored you would want to do that…”

The kid took a couple rapid stuttering breaths and Trapper wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, trying to offer some steadiness even though he wasn’t that much better off.

“I… Was thinking… After your stories… I like the name Adrie…”

Trapper was not able to hold back the flood of emotions anymore. Hot fat tears poured down his cheeks as he yanked his kid - his Adrie - in close to his chest for a full body hug. Adrie’s fingers dug into his back hard enough to feel through the plastoid as he shook and continued muttering into Trapper’s chest.

“Onl-ly if it’s ok-kay, I d-don’t want t-t-to-”

“It’s okay,” Trapper rasped back. “Of course it’s okay, I - Oh, Adrie. That means so much, he… He would be so proud, too...”

Adrie fully melted into Trapper’s arms at those words and Trapper held him tight to keep him upright. His heart was so full and so touched by Adrie’s gesture, though, that he couldn’t possibly mind. Snap yawned loudly and slipped his arms around the pair of them too, and Trapper smiled, adjusting his grip to hug both his boys at once. 

He wished he could do more for them. If he could keep them safe here forever, he would.

“Thank you, Buir,” Adrie mumbled at long last, finally loosening his grip. Trapper pulled back and looked at him adoringly, then at Snap, who, unsurprisingly, was wiping at his eyes too.

“Yeah… Thanks, Buir,” Snap smiled too. “For everything.”

Trapper was about to tell them no, he should be thanking them, they had no idea what this meant to him, but something about their words and calling him Buir again without the teasing tone made something very different come out of his mouth instead.

“I know that calling me that started as a joke,” He said in a voice that was vulnerable and raw, “But you are my ade. And if you ever want that to be official, just… Just say so. I’d be glad to, I’d - I’d be honored to, I’d swear it in a heartbeat.”

Both of the Corries looked at him with blank, shocked expressions, and for a moment Trapper felt sick, like he had overstepped, he had gone too far. But Adrie and Snap locked eyes, and to Trapper’s amazement, their faces broke into unbelievable grins.

“Yes!” Snap said eagerly, and Adrie nodded along, scrubbing at his eyes and sniffling all over again.

There was no hesitation at all, Trapper barely processed their acceptance before the vow tumbled out of his mouth like he’d been practicing it forever. “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ade, Snap, Adrie,” He said with a smile so wide that it hurt, and the boys - his boys, now it was official - threw themselves back into his arms one more time. 

Trapper closed his eyes and held them so close. That was the last thing he could do for them, the biggest gift he could possibly give, even if it didn’t come with a promise of safety or inheritance or even a long and happy future. For now, it was enough. The Galaxy was a dangerous place, especially for a clone. He couldn’t protect them forever. But they were loved, they were his, they knew it, he’d sworn it. And, at least in this moment, with the stars fading and the warm sun rising on a new day, Snap and Adrie were safe in his arms.

Chapter Text

Trapper held Adrie’s hand, struggling to blink away burning tears. He needed to be strong for his ad. He had no idea how much of what Stitch described either kid might have endured since the order came through. The last thing he needed when it all came flooding back was to see his buir falling to pieces, but Trapper was scared. Grateful that Stitch found him, sure, and relieved that the surgery was over, but scared.

Stitch’s agonized words still rattled around in his head. He had no idea it was that bad. He couldn’t believe Crow hadn’t told him, but apparently even though he knew they weren’t right, it didn’t occur to his batchmate just how abnormal or kriffing insane that list of abuses was. Nox had apparently tried to tell him once, but it was all Crow knew, and that only made it worse. Trapper wasn’t sure whether to knock his block off or sob all over him for it. At least his batcher hadn’t been abused like that, not badly anyways, he claimed he’d always managed to wiggle his way out of those situations… But there was no telling what Adrie and Snap had been through until they woke up.

He brushed back a lock of Adrie's overgrown hair that fell into his eyes. Maker, he didn’t even know what being under the chips influence was really like, so what the hell was he supposed to do? What would he tell them, how would he help? Adrie was hooked up to the machines the exact same way he and the rest of his brothers who had undergone the surgery had been, but even though Trapper had his own chip removed as a precaution, he didn’t feel any different with it out. He hadn’t carried out the order, he faked it, he never lost himself, and he should be grateful for that, he should. But right now, he almost wished it had happened to him too, just so Adrie and Snap would know he understood.

He let out a shaky sigh and gave Adrie’s hand a squeeze. If anyone touched them during that time, if they got hurt, if… If Trapper had been too late… He swallowed hard and tried to focus on taking deep breaths, like Stitch had told him to. Adrie looked so much different than them in the recovery bed, so… Small. He was still a kid, without the armor it was easy to tell just how young he still was, how innocent. At his age Trapper’s training was just being expedited to push him out to the front lines sooner, but not that soon. Trapper’s batch had at least finished most of their training, even if he was fairly sure they only passed their final exams because Crow somehow turned up one day with a copy of the battle simulation schematics and passed it around the barracks without being noticed. Adrie hadn’t even been able to pick the specialty he was interested in because there wasn’t enough time left to learn it. He and Snap should still be building forts and sharing stolen snacks with all their batchers on Kamino instead of mourning one of them. Snap should be taking his holopics and showing them off, Adrie should be studying the stars like he loved to, not laying unconscious in Coruscant’s depths, so far from the sky or anything scenic, to save them from nightmares like the chips and the Guard. The two of them endured so much more than Trapper had at their age, and he could only hope what they suffered hadn’t been any worse than what he already knew… 

Adrie’s nose twitched in his sleep, and Trapper sucked in a breath for a second, going completely still as everything in him seemed to freeze. His ad’s brow crumpled together, like he was suddenly deep in thought, then suddenly he squeezed Trappers hand hard and lurched upright, eyes flying open and gasping for breath.

“Usedii, ad’ika! Usedii, it’s okay,” Trapper hurried to comfort him, standing up abruptly to take the kid by the shoulder and push him back down in the bed. “It’s okay now. You’re safe, no matter what happened before you’re safe now.”

Adrie’s breath came in short spurts for a few seconds but he grabbed onto Trapper’s forearm desperately, looking around the small recovery room in wild confusion before he met Trappers eyes.

“You‘ve been through so much,” Trapper told him, his heart clenching in his chest. “But you don’t need to fight. I can explain…”

“Buir,” Adrie said weakly, blinking up at him in disbelief for a second, and Trapper felt some of his tension fade.

“It’s me, I - I’ve got you now, it’s going to be okay. Whatever happened I…” But his words got all choked in his throat.

“Snap?” Adrie wheezed, and Trapper nodded, swallowing hard.

“He’s here too, he… He’s in surgery. He isn’t hurt, you just got out of surgery too, so try to take it easy, okay?”

“We’re here…” Adrie said in a daze, his eyes still a little unfocused as he clung desperately to Trapper.

“That’s right. We’re all here, I found you and you’re not going back to the Guard after this. I’m keeping you and your brother safe now, understand? No one is going to - to hurt you, and if - if they ever d-did before I-“

Adrie slumped backwards in the bed again, still hanging on to Trapper and practically pulling him down with him. Trapper twisted so he was half-draped around his ad’s side instead, cradling the kid against his chest as he crawled into the recovery bed with him. Adrie curled in close as a shiver ran through his body, and Trapper’s heart just about broke. 

“I’m sorry, I know, it’s so much,” Trapper said softly, tugging one of Luz’s blankets up tighter over his poor, shaken ad. “Does anything hurt?”

“My head,” Adrie whispered. “How…”

“That’s a little expected, but I’ll talk to Stitch, see if we can spare a stronger painkiller, yeah?” Trapper reassured him. Adrie nodded and let out a little sigh as Trapper gently traced some circles in his back.

His ad didn’t try to talk after that, and Trapper didn’t push him to. In just a few minutes he had all but fallen back asleep, tucked safely under Trapper’s chin, his rhythmic breathing soothing something in Trapper’s heart just a little. When Stitch and Bato pushed open the door with Snap on a hoverstretcher, that’s how they found them. Trapper quickly shielded Adrie’s face from the light and strained his neck to see his other ad, his gaze falling on the bandage on his temple and the tiny scar over his eye.

“Snap is okay,” Stitch answered in an undertone before Trapper could even ask. “It was as standard as it could be for a procedure this kriffing new. He should wake up soon.”

Something unclenched in Trapper’s stomach at the news, and it must have shown in his face, because Stitch’s expression visibly softened. “How’s Adrie?” the CMO asked as he and Bato carefully transferred Snap off the hoverstretcher and onto a recovery bed.

“Needs more pain meds,” Trapper whispered back, and Stitch nodded, only for Adrie to speak up without moving from Trapper’s chest.

“Only if we have thmmm,” He muttered pitifully.

Trapper had to stifle a flash of anger at that, at the reminder that his ade or any of the Corrie’s ever had to go without something so basic, and he saw the feeling mirrored in Stitch’s face.

“We do,” Stitch bit out, gesturing at Bato, who hurried off to fetch some as the CMO muttered something about nat-borns under his breath and fiddled with Snap’s monitors. By the time Bato came back with a little hypo in hand, Stitch had taken it upon himself to push the second recovery bed up next to Adrie’s, so Trapper was laying between his two ade. Trapper gave him a grateful nod for it, adjusting a little so he could reach around and take Snap’s hand in his own, too… And had to blink back tears all over again.

He had them both back. They were both here, right here. They were safe in his arms again, and he would keep them safe. He could do that now, they were free from the chips and they were never going back to the Coruscant Guard again. They were too precious.

Bato returned and silently administered the hypo through the IV in Adrie’s hand. His ad visibly relaxed within moments, rolling back off Trapper with a much more contented expression on his too-young face. After a last few checks the pair of medics left them alone again, at least for now. Trapper knew that would be short lived. Stitch hadn’t liked leaving any of them alone, he checked on Trapper himself practically every ten minutes until Trapper was up and moving after his surgery, even with Crow keeping a vigilant watch by his bedside. It definitely wouldn’t be much different with the vulnerable Corrie’s the snarly medic considered family. 

They were safe… But as he lay in the silence his mind drifted back to Stitch’s claims. He looked down at his ade and swallowed hard. Both of them looked so peaceful now, so calm and secure, like they should be. They deserved to know this every day… And they hadn’t. Whether or not they had been beaten or injured or… Or raped… His stomach lurched at the thought, but those things had been a real, daily threat, he had to accept that. They’d been in an environment where all that and more was the lived reality, where they were hungry, where they rationed medical supplies and saw brothers vanish from their ranks in terrifying ways, then lived through the chips control, seen death, possibly killed people like the Jedi themselves, had what little autonomy they retained stripped away…

No. His boys weren’t going to be okay, no one would be after seeing things like that. Crow did a damn good job pretending all this time but Trapper knew better and his ade were no different, whether or not they took the abuses themselves. Trapper realized suddenly that his cheeks were wet as he lay in the beds, holding on to them both. He hadn’t even noticed when the tears started back up, but before he could do anything about them, Snap groaned loudly at his side and his eyes flew open.

“Buir?” The young clone blurted out, bleary-eyed and a little disoriented, but he blinked a couple times and his face lit up. “Buir! You - You’re here! How-“

“Easy Snap’ika,” Trapper said soothingly, but he couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across his face at his enthusiasm. “I’m here. So is Adrie, but take it slow, you just got out of surgery.”

“How’d you do it?” Snap carried on immediately, ignoring Trappers advice and propping himself upright with a small wince to look between Trapper and Adrie, a disbelieving grin on his face. “You found us! You - I - I can think-“

“Snaaaaaaap, shhh,” Adrie groaned from Trapper’s other side, and Snap rolled his eyes, but lowered his voice a little bit. 

“What’s going on? Where are we? What happened to my holocam?”

“One thing at a time Snap’ika,” Trapper chuckled, wiping quickly at the tear tracks on his own face and carding a hand through the kid’s hair, careful to avoid the bandage on his temple. Snap’s breath hitched and he looked at him with big, questioning eyes. “About being able to think… I wish there was an easier way to explain this, but they did something to us on Kamino, they… They put something in our heads to make us obey,” He started slowly. It was a speal he recited a hundred times in his head, they had to explain it to so many brothers, but there was never a good way to put it, no way to dull the betrayal. Adrie shifted next to him, looking up, and Snap cocked his head, sending a pang through his chest, so he explained, or at least he did his best. He told them how the chips were implanted before they were even decanted, that they took control of their minds when they were activated, made it so they were forced to follow orders, any orders at all, and the result. He explained how he had some good friends who figured out the conspiracy and worked out how to remove the damn things, and that, most importantly, nothing they did under the chips influence was their fault. 

They listened with rapt attention both their faces darkening in understanding as the worst bedtime story in the kriffing galaxy went on. Snap’s eyes shone bright with righteous anger at what had been done to them, while Adrie burrowed his face into Trappers chest a couple of times wondering how any of this ever happened in the first place. Trapper still wondered that too, and he said so. The Republic had fallen, the Jedi were gone… Kenobi… It all came back to him hard. His ade asked him about his own Jedi, the one he spoke so highly about despite what they had heard the Jedi were like, and he told them the truth. His chip hadn’t worked… And he was fairly sure that Kenobi managed to escape.

That, at least, put a little smile back on their faces, and on his, too. If Kenobi was out there, then another light in the galaxy still lived. But towards the end of the explanation, Trapper had to pause. 

All of this went deeper than a one-time order for the Corrie’s, and for his ade. The chips were only one method of manipulation and control they had faced… But it wasn’t really all that new. Not to them.

“And if… If anyone ever hurt you,” He said, making every effort to keep his voice even and strong even though the idea made him want to throw up, “If any of the Senators ever… Injured you, or touched you, or did anything you didn’t want, that… That wasn’t your fault either. Before or after the chips, understand? You can talk to me. Stitch told us what can happen and if anything did it’s not your fault, I’d never blame you, I-“

“We weren’t hurt, Buir,” Adrie spoke softly into his chest.

Trapper’s heart practically leapt out of his chest. “You… You’re sure?” He stammered out. “Even in the Senate?”

“We were both assigned to Senator Mothma,” Snap said solemnly. “She was on the safe list.”

“No one else ever… You didn’t get caught or - or-“

“Well Possede shoved me pretty hard once ‘cause I saluted wrong in the hall trying to hide my holocam,” Snap admitted with a sheepish shrug, “But I wasn’t really hurt.”

“And Senator Mothma took a chunk outta him for it,” Adrie said with a yawn.

Snap giggled at his brother and flopped back down at Trapper’s side. “Yeah, that made it aaaaall worthwhile!”

“Good,” Trapper choked, his voice breaking on the word. “G-good.”

All sorts of emotions were tangled up in Trapper’s chest. He hated that anything happened to Snap, ever, but if that was the worst of it then… Then… Maker, that could have been so much worse. He tugged both of his boys in close and closed his eyes tight against the burning in his eyes and his chest. They had been lucky, so lucky. Not everyone coming out of the Guard would be, he knew that, but right now it meant the world to know that at least his two kids with such good hearts had escaped without suffering any more than that. 

“Buir?” Adrie murmured into his chest, and Trapper opened his eyes again to look back down at his ad, sniffling just a little. “Thanks for finding us.”

“Of course Ad’ika,” He answered, strength starting to return to his voice again at long last. “I always will, as long as I live. I made a promise, didn’t I? That’s what those oaths are for. I’ll always do my best to find you, to protect you, both of you. It’s my duty. You’re my ade, and I love you.”

Adrie tried to bite back a sob, but it broke free anyways, and the sound of his little shaky breaths filled the room as Trapper spoke to him in gentle Mando’a and ran his fingers back through his slightly-long hair. Snap reached across Trapper’s middle, too, taking his brother by the hand and holding it tight, but Trapper didn’t miss the way he was biting his lip and blinking fast, too.

That was okay. They didn’t have to be okay, but they would be. He meant every word of those vows back then, and he meant them now, just as much. 

“B-buir?” Snap spoke up a little shakily, and Trapper looked back down at him, not bothering to hide the way his own eyes were shining that time. Snap looked up at him with a raw little half grin, hesitating for a second before asking.

“Really though… Where is my holocam?”

“Is this really the time?” Adrie grumbled, making no move at all to so much as look up from his spot buried in Trapper’s chest, but Snap nodded emphatically.

“We’re together,” He insisted. “We have to.”

“I look gross.”

“We all look gross!”

“Can’t we do that later?”

“Yeah! We can do another one later!”

“Maybe just one, if we keep it to ourselves,” Trapper intervened with a little chuckle. “Would that be okay, Adrie?”

“…Fine,” Adrie sighed. “But I’m not showing my face.”

“Deal!” Snap said enthusiastically, propping himself up and looking around the hold. His face lit up as he spotted his armor stacked neatly next to the bed and promptly knocked most of it to the ground grabbing for the belt that held his most prized possession, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it. 

“I’ve only taken a couple since the order came through,” He explained, shaking his head. “And it always felt wrong…”

“It was never wrong,” Trapper assured him.

He smiled, his expression going watery all over again. “Yeah. I know.” Then he turned the thing around to face them all.

Trapper covered the top of Adrie’s head with his hand and smiled obligingly at the cam. There was a small flash, and Snap turned the thing back around for them all to see.

“Aww, look at us!” Snap said affectionately. “We look awful. I love it.”

“I do too,” Trapper said honestly, gazing back at the little image as his heart swelled. It was raw, vulnerable and messy. His eyes in it were puffy and red, and he hadn’t quite managed a convincing smile through his wobbling lips. Snap’s eyes glistened and his hair was matted to his head, Adrie was barely visible tucked under a blanket and into Trapper so thoroughly, but none of that mattered, not really.

It meant they were together, and it meant they were safe. To Trapper, that made it the most beautiful image in the galaxy.