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Chapter Text

From the moment he was born (decanted) and looked into his buir’s eyes, Boba Fett had known what he was meant to be. A warrior- verd. Similar to his father’s clones, born with a higher purpose, but with freedom. But when Boba was ten, the aruetii jetii, karking Kenobi, came to Kamino, and he kriffed everything up.

The jetii and Boba’s buir fought. Boba’s buir then took Boba to Geonosis, where the same kriffing jetii turned up once more, and this time brought with him. Not just an army of jetiise, though Kenobi’d brought that too, but the clones.

The vode. Boba’s vode, his buir’s ade even if his father never acknowledged it, and Boba just knew that the brothers he was closest to (the only ones who could stand his presence- Fox, Rex, Wolffe, Gree, Bacara, Ponds, Kote) were among them. And that was nauseating.

The others had never seen buir the way Boba had. He understood that. Boba’d had a very different, non-altered, life than theirs. But still, he never thought that they’d fight against buir (even if they weren’t there for him). He’d never thought they’d be on opposite sides of the battlefield.

And this was horrifying. The sound of blasterfire, the moans of dying vode all around, trying to keep up with his buir while staying out of sight and range, pretending not to care that those were his brothers, pretending to not care that any moment that one of his brothers could kill him. Boba- Boba hated this. He hated the sand underneath his boots, hated the scorching sun, hated the karking kaminiise for creating his brothers only to sell them to the jetiise, hated his vode for betraying their allit. 

But then came the dark-skinned jetii with the purple jetii’kad, and Boba’s world fell apart with a simple stroke. With a single stroke, he watched from the shadows as his father’s head parted from his shoulders, his knees sinking down as his body collapsed, his buy’ce hitting the sand with his karking throat exposed.

The jetii moved on, but Boba stayed. Boba stayed, unable to hear anything but the sound of his heart in his ears as he stepped out onto the battlefield towards the body of his father.

Don’t risk yourself unnecessarily, his father had told him. That’s how idiots die. 

But as Boba crouched down and held his buir’s buy’ce in his hands, he found he really didn’t care anymore. 

‘Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la, Jango Fett,’ Boba whispered, his voice hoarse from sobs he had barely noticed as he had hurried towards his buir’s corpse.

And he buried his dreams, his idea of an allit, with his father and his identity, on a strange, dry planet, a million light years away from home. That was when he put on his father’s armor, taking it off his father’s corpse. That was when a ten-year old orphan walked back to his buir’s ship, his second home, no longer a boy but a man far too early.

That was when the beroya was born. The man without an allit, without vode, despite sharing a face with millions of men. He gave up on being a verd- because what’s the point in being a warrior if you have no one to guard your back?

***********************************************************************************************************

One year later

Boba had just finished a job for the Guild. In the year that had passed since Geonosis, since the Galaxy had devolved into war, he’d gotten himself a serious reputation. Though small (he’d had his growth spurts, but he was nowhere close to being done with that; he still looked like a kid, albeit a thirteen-year-old kid instead of an eleven-year-old one), and with a strict code of honor, every sentient being knew he wasn’t someone to be kriffed with.

He wasn’t Boba Fett to anyone but himself, anymore. All the Galaxy saw was a small, dangerous verd in beskar’gam named Tracyn (a reference to Geonosis, when his entire life had gone up in flames) who got the job done. And he was okay with it.

Boba Fett had died on Geonosis with his buir. To everyone else, he was just another Mando earning a life in this legal business. After all, no one ever saw his face, never knew his species or what he looked like; though some whispered and said he was a member of the Kyr’tsad.

Please. If he’d even thought about joining, Jango would’ve come back from the dead just to strangle his son. So he went on through his life, the cin vhetin he’d been given, overachieving and making a new name for himself.

But that was until Mandalore. He’d held out for a year, but eventually the temptation to see his buir’s culture, to see his home system, had grown too strong. And it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

I’ll take you there one day, ad’ika. Manda’yaim is something else, his father had said.

So he’d steered Slave One into the Mandalore system and landed it near one of the distant small towns. Even now, after he’d painted his armor and the outside of the ship (mostly yellow for remembrance, spots of white for a new beginning, red highlights for honoring his father, and one splash of purple for luck), someone could still recognize it as belonging to Jango Fett, and Boba really did not need the scrutiny.

Honestly, what happened next was entirely Boba’s fault. If he had paid any attention whatsoever to the Cuyv’dal’s backgrounds, he would’ve known that they liked to go to ground in places like Kyrimorut, and he could’ve avoided the entire damn situation. But no, younger-Boba had to be a naive idiot instead. Great.

What happened was that soon after Boba walked into a small, warm tavern and ordered ne’tra gal and uj’alayi, a very familiar face (or two) showed up.

Dank ferik.

It was Mij Gilamar and Kal fucking Skirata. Boba would know those faces and those beskar’gams anywhere. Shit. Boba stiffened and quickly glanced down at his drink and food to hide his face, because after ordering he’d taken his buy’ce off to eat, as he was certain that if the two Cuyv’dal came any closer they would recognize him.

Why else would a minute form of Jango Fett with a long scar across his nose be sitting in a tavern in Kyrimorut, and not on Kamino or on active duty, if he were not Boba Fett, the rogue clone no one had seen in a year? Besides, the two had babysitted Boba back on Kamino; they knew his face, they knew his tells, and even a year couldn’t change everything. He heard footsteps and someone sat down next to him.

‘Gi soup, gedet’ye,’ said the cheerful voice of Mij Gilamar. ‘And a papuur’gal for him.’

Sithspit and jetii spawn.

‘Coming right up,’ the bartender, who seemed to be a Togruta in blue-and-purple beskar’gam, said, before turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

‘Morning,’ Gilamar told Boba cheerfully.

Fuck, I don’t remember him being like this when I was young. To be fair, I was completely naive, so I probably missed something, but good Manda is he on spice or something? No one’s ever that nice. Not in my experience.

Boba, tension thrumming through his veins, made the mistake of glancing at the former Cuyv’dal slightly, trying to scare him off by glaring at him. However, even revealing that much of his face was too much, because Gilamar inhaled sharply.

So he’s not using spice, he’s just built that way, and he’s noticed. Great. Manda, why couldn’t he have just now been a spice-riddled idiot and not an intelligent man? Kriff.

‘Kal?’ Gilamar said quietly.

Skirata tensed next to him and turned around. Boba, despite wanting to break eye contact and look away, met Skirata’s gaze, one hand slipping to his thigh holster and the other one gripping the handle of the vibroblade in his sleeve.

‘Su cuy’gar,’ Boba said smoothly. ‘Bavodu’e.’

Skirata paled, looking rather like he’d been stabbed. ‘Bob’ika?’

Boba forced himself not to flinch at the use of the diminutive. It had been so, so long since someone had called him that, and the nickname usage  felt like a punch (especially from those two). He forced himself to stand, ignoring the watchful eyes of the other patrons, and placed a few credits down by the remains of his uj cake and alcoholic drink.

Rage filled him at the closeness of the aruetiise, of the aliit who had betrayed him. They had been supposed to be his bavodu’e, his cabur if anything happened to Jango, and they had left him to the wilds of space. They had failed him, and they had failed his buir.

Kriff them both and may the Manda damn them to oblivion.

‘Kote lo’shebs’ul narit,’ Boba snarled, grabbing his buy’ce and stomping away.

He heard the two men stand up and he was sure that they would follow him.

‘Ke’pare!’ Skirata called after him. 

Against his will, Boba froze in the doorway.

‘Me’copaani?’ He hissed, turning around.

Sure enough, the two men were practically on his heels. The entire tavern was silent, their eyes on this interaction.

‘You’re alive,’ Skirata said softly.

Boba rolled his eyes and pulled on his buy’ce, covering his face. ‘Don’t say that you care. None of you do. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to go now. Tayli’bac?’

Much to his surprise, Gilamar reached out and grabbed Boba by the wrist. His grip was like steel, unsurprising for a medic.

‘No,’ Gilamar said. ‘We’ve been looking for you, you know. You haven’t made it easy.’

‘Yeah, why would I want to see you?’ Boba snapped, trying to pull out of Gilamar’s grasp and failing to. ‘We were aliit. You were my bavodu’e. And you left me to bury my father on foreign sand, all alone, and then survive in the galaxy, with not even the skills your ade have.’

Not like Boba liked Skirata’s boys much. The Nulls were a bunch of assholes, always had been, especially towards Boba, who had no batch or squad to rely on for protection or assistance all the time. But he was slightly jealous of their extensive abilities and eidetic knowledge- he’d had to work hard for everything, unlike them. Boba grunted as he twisted his hand, popping his thumb out of its proper place, allowing him to slip out of Gilamar’s grip, albeit momentarily.

‘Sorry about this,’ Gilamar muttered. ‘And we will talk when you get up, ad’ika.’

But then something- a needle- poked in between the vulnerable gaps in Boba’s beskar’gam, and shadows spread through Boba’s vision. The eleven-year-old sank down, exhaustion hitting him like a blaster shot, and found himself wrapped in warm armored arms as darkness descended.

‘We’ve got you now, ad’ika.’

***********************************************************************************************************

An unknown amount of time later, probably hours 

Boba returned to consciousness slowly. The first thing he noticed was that whatever he was laying on was soft, unlike the pilot’s chair of Slave One, which was where he normally slept. The second thing he noticed were the memories of what had happened. He swore under his breath and slowly blinked open his eyes.

He seemed to be in a cabin. Not his cabin, not buir’s, not the cabin that Boba curled up in when the nightmares got too much or the pain of a wound or the grief was too much to bear, but someone else’s. 

Probably Skirata’s or Gilamar’s, on one of their ships.

Boba frowned. Karking Gilamar, trying to get to him by being soft and then drugging and kidnapping him when that didn’t work.

Trust Mij, buir’d said once. He is cheerful, but he is kriffing good shot and has the steadiest hands. You can always trust him to have your shebs.

Yeah, right.

‘You’re awake,’ a voice remarked, and Boba turned his head to find Mij Gilamar watching him from the doorway.

Gilamar’s sand-colored beskar’gam shimmered like gold in the artificial light, so similar to the blistering orange sands of Geonosis and yet so distant.

Vengeance, Boba thought. He lost everything, like me. But he found people he could rely on- which I haven’t. I don’t trust Sing or Bossk as far as I can throw them, and Bane…he’s a bastard.

‘What do you want?’ Boba asked sharply. ‘Why do you pretend to care now?’

‘Bob’ika,’ Gilamar said gently, ‘no one knew where you were. We looked on Kamino, but you were gone.’

‘I was on the karking planet!’ Boba spat. ‘You of all people should’ve known that buir wouldn’t leave me with the kriffing kaminiise, Gilamar.’

‘You know more Mando’a now,’ Gilamar noted in surprise.

‘When your culture is the only thing you have left, you cling to it,’ Boba said, a tad bit more honest than he had intended.

Gilamar softened. ‘Ad’ika…’

‘Don’t call me that. You weren’t there. You didn’t have to dodge the blaster fire of your own vode, didn’t have to watch that jetii kill the most important person in the universe to you and then bury him with your own hands,’ Boba said viciously. ‘And you weren’t abandoned by your aliit.’

Funny. The man with a million faces, a million pairs of eyes, winds up left with only one to watch his own back. The man with the largest family winds up all alone. 

‘You weren’t abandoned,’ Gilamar told him.

‘It damn well felt like it! None of you came for me, mir’sheb.’ Boba’s voice caught in his throat. ‘He said it was important to trust my squad. But I don’t have one. Not anymore.’

Your greatest weapon will be the men by your side, Jango had told him. You have to rely on them. You have to trust them. If you can’t…are they really on your side at all?

Gilamar looked sympathetic, albeit a bit exasperated. ‘You were hiding from us, ad’ika. Faked your own death pretty convincingly. It’s hard to look for a dead man.’

Boba huffed and crossed his arms. ‘Whatever,’ he muttered.

Gilamar reached out and placed his hand on Boba’s shoulder. Despite the beskar’gam, his hand was warm, and as steady as ever. 

‘Don’t doubt for one second, ad’ika, that if your aliit had known you to be alive, they’d have burnt down the galaxy for you,’ Gilamar said warmly. ‘Even Ordo. That di’kut acts like a cornered strill, and he can be a massive pain in the shebs, but he’s got the ori’vod instinct.’

‘Ah, reading him the riot act, eh, vod?’ the voice of Kal Skirata called from a distance. ‘Good. Maybe you can knock some sense into him.’

‘I don’t need more sense, kark you,’ Boba muttered.

Gilamar whacked him gently upside the head. ‘Language, ad’ika.’

‘I’m as old as the rest of the vode! I can swear!’

‘Yeah, but you neither look like it or act like it,’ Gilamar said, giving Boba a stern stare that did nothing at all to Boba whatsoever and totally did not remind him of his kyr’adyc buir at all.

(That was a lie, but Gilamar did not need to know that.)

‘And the rest of them aren’t running around unsupervised,’ Gilamar added.

‘I don’t need supervision,’ Boba protested. ‘I can handle myself, thanks.’

Gilamar arched an eyebrow. Boba ignored it. 

‘Where are you taking me, anyway?’ He asked.

‘Kal’s gonna be busy with his boys, and you wouldn’t have much of a life with me,’ Gilamar said.

Boba had a bad feeling about this.

‘So we’re taking you to the place of best stability we can find: the Coruscant Guard.’

Karking hell.

‘You were close to one of their commanders, right? 1010?’ Gilamar asked.

‘Fox,’ Boba muttered, deeply displeased about this entire plan (if you could call it that).

They were basically just throwing him at the Guard, saying ‘kriff it’, and leaving- leaving Boba alone with one of the vode who had betrayed him (no matter the osik Gilamar said about him not being betrayed and just being assumed a casualty). This couldn’t go well. 

‘Where’s my buy’ce? I want to smash your brains in for creating such a dumb idea,’ Boba said.

Gilamar only laughed at him, making Boba scowl further (not like his face did anything else these days).

‘You’re mandokarla, I’ll give you that. But though you may be taller, made of a solid wall of muscle and beskar’gam, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.’

‘I’ve been bounty hunting for a year,’ Boba told him. ‘I’m sure I could give you a hard one.’

Gilamar’s eyes widened and somewhere in the distance Skirata swore.

‘You’ve been what?!’

Boba beamed, glad to get the one up on them for once. ‘Yeah, who’d you think the newcomer Tracyn was? A rogue vod?’

‘You’re kriffing Tracyn?’ Gilamar screeched, sounding very much like a strill during a feeding frenzy. ‘What the kark? You?’

Skirata laughed, his voice edged with disbelief. ‘Oh, you are so Jango’s son. Osik.’

Even from them, even from the men who had betrayed him, the compliment made Boba smile.

I hope you’re proud of me wherever you are, buir. 

***********************************************************************************************************

Earlier

Mando’ad draar digu. That was a core concept to the Mando’ade, up there with the aliit and cin vhetin. Though it was commonly assumed to only apply to grudges, the concept was also applied to more normal things. And that included faces, body language, armor paint. 

So when CC-1010, Commander Fox, received a holomessage from Sergeant Skirata with a sleeping cadet wearing beskar’gam passed out on the cot on Mij Gilamar’s ship, he immediately recognized the vod immediately. Even if it had been a year. Even if the vod was taller, older, with more lines in his face and more muscle lining his frame and a new scar across his nose.

He still knew his name. Still knew his number. (It was 0024.)

‘Something wrong, Commander?’ A voice asked.

Kebii’tra, a female clone who had been saved by Shaak Ti from decommissioning, stood a few meters away from Fox. Her electric pink hair was short and kept close to her face, she had a scar across her nose, and her unusual gray eyes were concerned as she peered at her commanding officer. She had pale pink (almost lilac) stripe-like tattoos on her arms and shoulders, though only the shoulder ones were exposed right now.  Out of everyone in the Guard, she perhaps had it worse; all of the creepy senators flirted with her, and somebody (Fox had no idea who) had had the bright idea of making her wear another, entirely sexualized, outfit (very similar to General Secura’s outfit, it had red wraps on her arms and hands, a blue wrap covering her chest, and blue pants with red highlights that did not cover her torso at all). 

Some of the vode or the good senators usually donated her robes, which she loved. (Her not-so-secret-lover, a dark blue female Mandalorian Togruta with dark red and white lekku markings, teal eyes, a dark blue triangular headdress-thing and dark blue beskar’gam with pink highlights, as well as a yellow lightsaber, named General Lilith, loved her in them too.)

Fox blinked and he realized he had been crying. Kriff. 

‘Nothing,’ Fox said, wiping away the evidence of his momentary weakness.

‘Osik,’ came Kebii’tra’s response.

Knowing how stubborn his sister would be, Fox relented.

‘Someone I thought dead is alive,’ he said, telling the truth (partially, anyway).

Kebii’tra’s face softened. ‘A vod?’

‘Mm.’

Kebii’tra clapped him on the shoulder. ‘K’oyacyi, vod. Take a break. Triple Zero won’t explode while you’re gone. There’s a reason we have like, five commanders, and not just one, hm?’

‘I don’t know how to take a break,’ Fox told her.

‘Yeah, I figured. Call your batch, vod. Maybe talking to your closest vode about this could help,’ Kebii’tra suggested.

That was a good idea, actually.

‘Thanks,’ Fox said quietly, standing up and stretching. ‘You’re really knowledgeable about this kind of thing.’

‘It’s the lack of testosterone, helps uncloud the mind,’ Kebii’tra teased. ‘You’ve worked your shebs off for us, al’verde. It’s the least I could do.’

Fox gave her a thankful glance and strode off towards the barracks for privacy (insomuch as a clone ever gets privacy). More specifically, towards his own quarters in a reused broom closet. Once inside he began messaging his batchmates.

Best Commanders

C.Fox (CC-1010): Vode

C.Fox (CC-1010): Look at this

C.Fox (CC-1010) posted a picture to ‘Best Commanders’

C.Fox (CC-1010): @C.Cody (CC-1024), @C.Wolfe (CC-1036), @CT.Rex (CT-7567), @C.Ponds (CC-1011), @C.Bacara (CC-1038), @C.Gree (CC-1004), @C.Bly (CC-1052)

C.Gree (CC-1004): WHAT

C.Gree (CC-1004): BOB’IKA’S ALIVE??

C.Gree (CC-1004): AND WHY DOES SKIRATA HAVE HIM???

C.Fox (CC-1010): Yes

C.Fox (CC-1010): and I have no idea why that hut’uun has him. Probably found him first.

C.Gree (CC-1004): >:(

C.Gree (CC-1004): bob’ika’s grown so much :( 

C.Fox (CC-1010): I know.

Suddenly Fox’s datapad pinged with a new message from Skirata.

Srgt.Skirata: We’re bringing him to Coruscant

Srgt.Skirata: ad’ika needs some stability for once.

For the first time in his life, Fox actually agreed with the hut’unn.

C.Fox (CC-1010): Apparently Skirata’s bringing him to Coruscant. 

C.Gree (CC-1004): :0

C.Gree (CC-1004): absolutely unfair that you get to see him first. I’m the oldest.

C.Fox (CC-1010): You’re five minutes older than me, Gree.

C.Gree (CC-1004): Oh, kriff you. 

C.Gree (CC-1004): I want to hug him so bad :( say hi for me, won’t you?

C.Fox (CC-1010): Sure. 

C.Fox (CC-1010): But this, ori’vod, is why we don’t go running around with our heads buried in books in the most obscure locations known to the Republic.

C.Gree (CC-1004): IT’S NOT MY FAULT I’M NEARLY IN WILD SPACE
C.Gree (CC-1004): YOU SHABUIR

C.Gree (CC-1004): MY INTEREST IN BEING WELL-PREPARED HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH OUR BEING EXILED TO THIS HELLPIT

C.Fox (CC-1010): My, my, such language. General Unduli would be upset.

C.Gree (CC-1004): GO KRIFF YOURSELF

C.Fox (CC-1010): I’m sure General Unduli would rather do that to you herself ;)

C.Gree (CC-1004): I am NOT sleeping with my general!!!!!

C.Fox (CC-1010): Nothing to be ashamed of. Bly is, Kote is, Ponds might be, Bacara isn’t only because he doesn’t want to be part of a harem as far as I know, and Rex seems to have a menage a trois situation going on with his general and a senator. One might say it is almost second nature.

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Quite right, ori’vod. I really do not want to become one of Mundi’s many wives.

C.Fox (CC-1010): I think you’d look nice in a dress, though.

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Go jump off a cliff.

C.Fox (CC-1010): Those are conspicuously lacking on Coruscant.

C.Fox (CC-1010): Not to mention, if I die, who is going to be here to welcome our vod’ika home?

C.Bacara (CC-1038): …

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Bob’ika’s alive?

C.Fox (CC-1010): And on his way to Triple Zero so if you could kindly refrain from killing me, I would appreciate it.

C.Gree (CC-1004): Fox’ika, Bac’ika, knock it off.

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Oh no, the ori’vod voice. We’re karked.

C.Ponds (CC-1011): What did I miss?

C.Ponds (CC-1011): what the osik??

C.Gree (CC-1004): su cuy’gar

C.Fox (CC-1010): Ponds, are you on Coruscant?

C.Ponds (CC-1011): For now, why?

C.Fox (CC-1010): Read up, di’kut.

C.Ponds (CC-1011):...

C.Ponds (CC-1011): Yeah I’m coming over.

C.Ponds (CC-1011): I assume Skirata will probably show up at the Corrie headquarters with Bob’ika in tow at a random time, like the prudii he is?

C.Fox (CC-1010): Almost definitely, yes.

C.Fox (CC-1010): Does anyone else know where everyone is stationed?

C.Ponds (CC-1011): You and I are on Coruscant

C.Gree (CC-1004): I’m in hell.

C.Gree (CC-1004): Scientifically fascinating hell, but hell nonetheless.

C.Bacara (CC-1038): I am stationed on this scorching hellpit of a planet, Jakku. Kote and Rex’ika are doing a joint mission somewhere in the Outer Rim, dunno where. Bly’s…Blying.

C.Gree (CC-1004): Ah yes ‘Blying’ my favorite verb

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Shut up you grammar Sith

C.Gree (CC-1004): >:(

C.Bly (CC-1052): What in the actual kriff?

C.Bly (CC-1052): why have I been verbified?

C.Bly (CC-1052): and BOB’IKA IS ALIVE??

C.Gree (CC-1004): Hey ad’ika

C.Bacara (CC-1038): There’s the batch baby

C.Bly (CC-1052): go kriff yourself 

Fox snickered, a faint smile on his face. Those were his brothers…and one more was soon to be returned to the chaos, righting at long last one of the galaxy’s many wrongs.

Chapter Text

Now

They landed Gilamar’s ship not far from the Coruscant Guard’s headquarters on a landing pad.

‘Come on,’ Gilamar nudged Boba.

I can run as soon as we get off the ship and Gilamar, Skirata, and Fox have their backs turned, Boba reassured himself, anger and anxiety twisting in his gut at the idea of having to face his vode again after Geonosis.

So he stumbled after Gilamar, back ramrod-straight and his chin perfectly level. His sharp brown eyes scanned their surroundings, at the durasteel skyscrapers that surrounded them, almost hoping for a threat to deter them from their path.

They were greeted by a scarlet-and-white plastoid-wearing trooper. Boba studied them. Of course, back on Kamino, none of the troopers had painted armor- it all had been a shiny, blinding white, much like everything else on Kamino. But the face…Boba knew that face.

It had grayer hair and many more stress lines than Boba had last seen the face with, but it was still recognizable. Next to him, nearly bald and with duller red streaking his armor, was Ponds.

Ori’vode, Boba thought, a complicated feeling twisting in his chest not unlike the sensation of a noose wrapping around his neck.

After all, how do you face your brothers after they  abandoned you on a battlefield (where they possibly shot at you)? After they abandoned you after your father died?

‘Sergeant,’ Fox said politely and stiffly, Ponds beside him as silent as a hunting strill.

‘Commander,’ Skirata said back, equally as stiffly. ‘Su cuy’gar.’

‘Where is he?’ Fox asked.

Gilamar stepped out from behind Skirata and moved to the side, giving Boba room to step out into the weak Coruscanti sunlight. Boba complied, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He forced a defiant look onto his face, drawing upon his anger and sense of betrayal.

‘Here,’ he said smoothly.

Fox and Ponds stared at him in shock.

‘Vod’ika?’ Fox whispered.

Something in Boba’s chest ached.

‘Hello, Fox,’ he said quietly.

Fox looked dazed. ‘You’re here.’

‘Where did you find him?’ Ponds asked 

‘Mandalore,’ Skirata said grimly. ‘Di’kut’s been bounty hunting.’ 

Ponds let out an unholy screech and nearly knocked Boba off his feet in his haste to check on him. 

‘What the kark?’ Ponds hissed, running his eyes over Boba urgently. ‘Are you alright?’

(Ori’vod instincts were hard to get rid of, even when your vod’ika is technically older than you and just showed up after a year of being assumed dead.)

‘I’m okay,’ Boba said, wondering where this concern had been a year ago.

‘Thank the Manda,’ Ponds said gratefully.

Fox shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. ‘Thank you for bringing him here.’

‘You’re his family,’ Gilamar said. ‘And he does not need to see any more combat. It was an easy decision.’

Boba frowned. 

I’ve been handling myself in combat for a year, Boba thought angrily. I’ve been fine. And who are you to decide that for me? You’re not my buir.

But he knew better than to say any of that out loud. It wasn’t exactly something they’d love to hear, even if it was the truth.

Gilamar turned to face Boba. ‘Jate’kara, Boban’verd,’ he said. ‘Stay out of trouble, ad’ika.’

Boba nodded stiffly.

Good riddance, he thought to himself.

Skirata and Gilamar had betrayed Boba and his buir just as much as the vode had.

‘Ret’urcye mhi,’ Skirata said, ‘al’verde.’

‘Vor entye,’ Ponds said, giving Fox a sharp look just as the other clone opened his mouth. ‘Ruus’alor.’

Fox closed his mouth, his eyes glittering. He dipped his head in a shallow impression of a nod, which was probably the best Skirata and Gilamar were going to get. Fox had been stubborn since he had come out of the tube, much like the rest of his batchmates (adopted or otherwise), and he had never much liked Skirata or Gilamar.

You and me both, Boba thought, and instantly did not like agreeing with his brother about anything

Skirata nodded and gestured to Gilamar. The two verde turned around and walked back to Gilamar’s ship. Fox watched them go, dha daryc eyes narrowed. Ponds, however, returned his attention to Boba, and immediately scooped the younger clone up into his arms in a tight hug that pressed Boba against the unfamiliar chipped plastoid of his vod’s armor for several heartbeats.

Boba, caught off guard, froze, and didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, it had been a long time since a vod had given him a hug (or anyone with anything resembling armor). And on the other, he was still kriffing pissed about being left behind on Geonosis. 

But now curiosity twisted among the constant numbness, sorrow, and anger. They had seemed so emotional when they’d seen Boba- they seemed to care like he remembered them doing. So what the kriff had happened on Geonosis? 

It was so confusing. And now Boba was close to his vode again, he found that he didn’t want to hurt them. He just wanted an answer. He just wanted an explanation for the vode’s behavior, for what his vode had done to him and his buir.

‘Suumpir?’ Boba asked.

‘Elek, Bob’ika?’ Ponds replied.

What Boba said next came straight from his brain to his mouth without any pause for consideration. 

‘Do you not love me?’

‘What?’ Ponds said, shocked, nearly dropping Boba.

Fox, who had been just letting the two of them hug it out, cursed. 

‘Tion’jor?’ Ponds asked, letting go of Boba and placing him back on the ground.

Hurt glittered in his brown eyes, so very much like Boba and Fox’s but yet so different. (After all, even the kaminiise could not make perfectly identical men; if one cared enough to pay attention, each clone had very slightly different voices and other identifying features.) 

Boba shifted and looked away, feeling guilty about hurting his ori’vode but also feeling slightly pleased at the idea of giving even one tenths of the pain they had caused him to them. 

‘You didn’t come for me,’ he said simply. ‘You fought against buir and then you left me there. Aliit ori’shya tal’din, elek? A gar, ner tal, payt ni Nor’be o’r haran. Gar payt ni at ash’amur.’

Ponds looked like he’d been punched in the face.

‘Nayc, ner vod, draar,’ Ponds insisted. ‘We thought you were-’

Ponds’ voice trailed off, his eyes clouding.

‘We thought you were on Kamino,’ he whispered softly. ‘But when we got back, and you weren’t there, and the kaminiise said you’d gone to Geonosis with Prime-’

‘-we thought you were taab’echaaj’la,’ Fox said, jutting into the conversation, as brutally honest as ever. 

‘Nu kyr’adc, shi taab’echaaj’la,’ Ponds said quietly, more out of habit than anything else.

‘We said rites for you, ner vod,’ Fox said, peering down at Boba with sad eyes. ‘We would’ve fought a thousand dar’jetiise to bring you back if we had known you were alive, kih’vod. I promise.’

Boba had spent the last year among pathological liars, so he knew instinctively that his vode were not lying. The shock of the truth- that his anger towards his vode was misplaced, that they had mourned for him- hit him like a me’sen.

Salty liquid burned the corners of his eyes and guilt swept through him like a tidal wave. All this time he had been hiding from and hating his vode; and this entire time they had been mourning for him. Most likely saying ‘ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Boba’ daily.

And that…that felt worse than being shot, stabbed, or strangled, as Boba had been plenty of times during his one-year tenure as a bounty hunter. Distantly, he noticed he was shaking and the tears were coming down like a torrent in Tipoca City. Arms wrapped around him and someone held him gently to their plastoid-covered chest (and he didn’t even care that it wasn’t his buir’s beskar’gam, just some cheap replacement, because right now it felt just as much like home).

‘Ni kar’taylir gai sa’vod, Boba,’ Fox told Boba softly. ‘Ni kar’taylir gai sa’ad, Boba. Gar cuyir  morut’yc. We’re never going to leave you again.’

Boba barely noticed, but his breath slowly evened and his tears slowly dried as he fell asleep, clinging to his ori’vod.

*************************************************************************************************************

Fox carried Boba back to the Guard’s barracks. His kih’vod was light, pure muscle and bones, and roughly the same height as a young clone cadet, so it was easy for the commander to carry his vod’ika home. Ponds followed on his heels, almost as closely as Hound’s mastiffs did. 

When they got back to the barracks, Scythe and Kebii’tra were playing sabaac (she was kicking Scythe’s shebs), and it seemed like all of the off-duty Guard were otherwise sleeping or watching the game (both Scythe and Kebii’tra tended to be sore, vicious losers, which was why usually they were banned from playing anything together, let alone sabaac; but right now Fox really could not care less), so it was pretty easy to sneak Boba into Fox’s quarters.

Fox’s quarters were a reused supply closet, and his bed was equally as small, but it was enough to fit Boba in with room to spare. Once he had tucked his kih’vod in, Fox was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion and swayed on his feet, only just realizing he had been up forty-seven hours without sleep and hadn’t had caf since earlier that day.

‘Rest,’ Ponds told Fox, a faint smile on his face. ‘You need the sleep too. I’ll go tell the vode that Boba’s here.’

Fox, for probably the first and last time in his entire life, did not argue and curled up beneath the thin, terrible sheets on the bed next to Boba, and let his eyes drift closed, his arms wrapping around his vod protectively.

For the first time since Geonosis, he did not dream, and he felt safe.

‘Aww.’

Fox was rudely awakened by the sound of his vod’s voice. He sat up with a slight groan, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping Boba,  and found Ponds sitting on the floor and peering at him.

‘So cute,’ Ponds teased.

‘Go kriff yourself,’ Fox muttered. 

‘Anyways, Rex and Kote will be here in a few hours for a couple days of leave,’ Ponds said. ‘Bacara and Gree haven’t replied back yet, because Gree got shot in the shoulder and is currently recovering, and who knows what Bacara’s doing.’

‘What? How did that book-loving di’kut get himself shot?’ Fox whisper-hissed.

Ponds shrugged. ‘All General Unduli would say was that Gree got shot in the shoulder and wouldn’t be up to messaging for a while.’ 

Fox ignored the reference to their oldest brother’s secret liaison with his commanding officer. Honestly, the idiocy of four of his batchmates (Gree, Ponds, Kote, Bly)  and one of his closest vode (Rex) to get involved with their commanding officer. Seriously. At least Wolffe and Bacara had common sense, and at least Kebii’tra slept with a jetii that was not one the Guard served with.

‘Also, your men are terrifying,’ Ponds said, shuddering.

Fox grinned. ‘That they are. What did they do now?’

‘I have no idea who the woman with gray eyes is, but-’

‘-that would be Kebii’tra. Don’t ask why she’s a she, or she’ll break your knees,’ Fox interrupted.

Ponds looked mildly disturbed but carried on as if Fox had not interrupted him.

‘-she started a prank war,’ Ponds said, with the voice of someone announcing a death.

‘Oh, that happens,’ Fox said.  ‘We get a lot of men invalidated out of active combat, you know, and so we do prank wars occasionally. It’s a great way for morale. Until it gets out of control. Which should be in…how long was I out?’

‘Seven hours,’ Ponds said.

‘Hm. So three hours before an explosion, then. That’s their best record.’

Ponds stared at him like he had lost his mind. ‘What the kark is wrong with you?’

Fox shrugged. ‘Can’t control it, can’t stop it, best to just let it happen and manage the aftermath.’

‘What the kriff.’

‘Hey, it's not my fault Scythe and Kebii act like the Domino twins,’ Fox said. ‘Speaking of which, their batches did go to the 501st…and I really do not want Scythe and Kebii’tra hanging out with Fives and Echo. So let’s keep them separated, elek?’

Ponds shuddered. ‘Now that would be an apocalyptic disaster.’

‘Ori’vod?’

Fox turned around and saw a sleepy-looking Boba sitting up and peering at him with bleary eyes.

‘Yeah?’ Fox asked, unusually gently.

‘You talk very loudly,’ Boba teased.

Ponds snorted. Fox gaped at the two of them in faux betrayal.

‘I take you into my broom closet, and this is how you treat me,’ Fox sighed dramatically. ‘How rude.’

Boba giggled- an innocent sound that broke Fox’s scarred heart. Ponds’ face softened.

‘How are you feeling, Bob’ika?’ Ponds asked.

‘Better,’ Boba admitted. ‘How long was I asleep?’

‘About seven hours,’ Fox chimed in.

‘I haven’t slept that long in ages,’ Boba mused.

Fox and Ponds exchanged a concerned look and Fox stood up.

‘Well, then, we should probably go see Scythe,’ Fox sighed.

Ponds looked horrified. ‘He’s your medic??’

‘Yeah, one of them, anyway. Our senior one. He’s…practically feral, but he’s a good medic,’ Fox said, offering Boba his hand. 

Boba took it and Fox pulled Boba off of the bed and onto his feet.

‘He’ll help take care of you while you’re here, vod’ika,’ Fox told Boba. ‘Tayli’bac?’

Boba nodded and the three walked out of Fox’s closet-bedroom.

Besides, it’ll be a good way to make sure Scythe and Kebii’tra don’t team up for the prank war, at least temporarily, Fox thought as they walked down towards the medical wing.

‘Scythe?’ Fox called.

A familiar face popped up. It wasn’t the short-haired, dark-haired form of Scythe. No, it was perhaps the Guard’s youngest medic, Sho’cye, who was a former scuba trooper under Monnk and Fisto. Even now he still had his long, electric blue hair, though it did not go with his red-and-white armor whatsoever, and his prosthetic arm was an interesting combination of blue and blood red. He was also the medic Fox had interacted with the least.

Sho’cye narrowed his eyes. ‘Commander. Did you pass out again?’

‘Again?’ Ponds whispered from behind Fox.

Fox ignored his brother.

‘No,’ Fox said, a bit indignant. ‘I have a patient for you to look at.’

Sho’cye lit up. ‘Are you finally admitting you’re in love with General Vos and coming to get you and him tested so you can assume conjugal relations?’

Fox spluttered, his face turning red. ‘What- no!’

Ponds cackled and behind Fox Boba smirked.

‘Something you’re not telling us, vod?’ Ponds teased.

‘Shut up,’ Fox grumbled, and stepped out of the way before gesturing at Boba. ‘I was referring to this…child.’

Sho’cye raised an eyebrow. ‘Since when were you a buir, vod?’

‘Why are you assuming he’s my child?’ Fox snapped, blushing furiously. ‘He’s a vod, di’kut!’

Honestly. What the kriff were they teaching shinies over in Monnk’s battalion? This medic was incredibly out of line and making not helpful assumptions.

Fox groaned. ‘Just- give him a physical. Please.’

Sho’cye saluted. ‘Sir, yes, sir.’

Fox turned to Boba. ‘He’s not going to hurt you,’ he said softly. ‘This isn’t like the kaminiise. Everything he does is to help you, elek? I’m going to straighten out my men, because Prime knows they’ve gotten themselves into chaos while I’ve been asleep, but you’re going to be alright.’

Boba nodded.

‘I’ll stay here,’ Ponds chimed in. ‘Keep Boba company. You and Boba already had snuggle time, Boba and I need some bonding time.’

Fox rolled his eyes affectionately. ‘Okay, okay, you jealous shabuir. Just don’t hoard him when the others get here.’

‘The other vode are coming?’ Boba demanded, a tad bit anxiously. ‘Who?’

‘Just part of our batch, ner vod. Just Kote and Rex,’ Ponds soothed. 

Boba relaxed. ‘Okay. I was worried.’

Because most of the army thinks you’re a kyorla ik’aad, Fox thought, and many of them bullied you. I can’t say that I blame you, Bob’ika.

Fox pulled Boba into a quick keldabe.

‘You don’t need to be,’ he whispered. ‘We have your back, vod’ika. We’re here now, and we’re here for you.’

I’m your brother, and your buir now, Fox thought as he pulled away from Boba. I will always be here for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t before.

But he didn’t say that. The b word could scare Boba away, or trigger an emotional breakdown, and Fox didn’t even know for certain that Boba had even heard Fox say the modified gai bal manda, as Boba had been too distraught at the time. So, no. He wasn’t risking it.

Fox nodded to Ponds, gave Boba a reassuring glance, and turned and walked out of the room, giving Sho’cye a frosty look on the way out (out of sheer irritation with the young medic).

*************************************************************************************************************

The blue-haired medic watched Fox go with a concerned look on his face.

‘Ruus’alor’s going to rupture an aneurysm one of these days,’ he said.

Boba frowned. ‘How is he going to make an expanded section of a weak artery explode?’

The medic blinked. 

‘How do you know that?’ Ponds asked.

Boba shrugged. ‘Isn’t that part of basic medical training on Kamino?’

‘You didn’t get that,’ Ponds reminded him.

‘Eh, Gilamar used to babysit me. He sang lullabies in Mando’a about all the different parts of the body and what could go wrong,’ Boba explained. 

The medic’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooh, that would be a good way to cover basic medical training with the troops here.’ He then frowned. ‘Wait, what do you mean he didn’t get basic medical training on Kamino?’

Oh, boy.

‘He’s unaltered,’ Ponds explained. ‘No accelerated aging.’

The unaltered, Boba thought, but he kept his mouth closed.

‘Ah, that explains it,’ the medic said sagely, and he extended his prosthetic hand/arm to Boba.

Boba shook it.

‘I’m CT-9971, but you can call me Sho’cye,’ the medic- Sho’cye- told him. He glanced at Ponds. ‘And you are…?’

‘CC-1011,’ Ponds said promptly. ‘Commander Ponds.’

‘Ah. Fox’s t’ad’vod, elek? Pleasure to meet you. Now, kid, come sit up here and lay down,’ Sho’cye said, gesturing at a squishy neon yellow chair that was almost the color of a meilorunn. 

Boba complied, the first vestiges of panic from memories of Kaminoan abuse only kept at bay by Sho’cye’s warm eyes. His warm brown eyes.

Kaminoans never have brown eyes. Only a lifeless, dull, gray-white like radioactive fallout. Eugenistic demagolka. 

Sho’cye picked up a scanner. ‘Hold still,’ he told Boba, before pointing the datapad-like scanner at Boba and running it up and down his body. 

‘Hmm,’ Sho’cye said. ‘You’re pretty tall for your age, at five foot eleven. I expect you will be somewhere along the lines of six foot one when you achieve maturity. Muscle mass is normal for a clone your age. However, you do seem a bit underweight, so I recommend we get you started on a meal plan once I am done with your physical. Anyways, kriff, I forgot; kid, what’s your name? Pronouns?’

‘Boba. CC-0024. He and him, please,’ Boba told Sho’cye, who nodded. 

Sho’cye suddenly frowned. ‘Wait. If you’re unaltered- the unaltered clone of Prime- why do you have a batch number?’

Boba’s chest ached at the reminder of the brothers he had never gotten to meet, and Sho’cye’s kind eyes convinced him to answer.

‘My original batch died,’ he said softly, finally speaking the words he had told nobody since his second batch.

They didn't have names, of course. They’d been CC-0023, CC-0025, CC-0026, CC-0027, and CC-0028. But in his mind Boba called them Styx, Uj, Arlo, Zy, and Lucky, even though he barely remembered them. They’d been unaltered, too, supposedly; however, they had all somehow developed fatal mutations and died before decanting. 

Boba had been the only survivor. Which was why the closest he’d had to his own batch was another batch, the one several  batches down the line from him.

(But he did not know about a certain CC-0029. A surviving clone, who had developed a mutation that had made her female. Nala Se hid her well, and it wasn’t like Boba ever wanted to go back to that rainy hellpit. So he did not know that one of his actual batchmates still lived.)

‘The Nulls picked on me,  buir was gone a lot, and Gilamar wasn’t always available, so I ended up crawling into the nearest bed that seemed safe. And that’s how I met this di’kut,’ Boba said, gesturing at Ponds.

Ponds snorted. ‘That was because he crawled into my bunk, for some reason, at ass o’clock in the morning. Even though mine was closest to the windows.’

‘I wasn’t going to cuddle with Wolffe,’ Boba protested. ‘That kriffer even then had a reputation for biting.’

Ponds made an over-dramatic gasp. ‘You’re too young to use such language!’

‘He’s older than both of us,’ Sho’cye noted dryly, eyes glued to his scanner as he scrolled down, peering at Boba’s scans.

‘Besides, did or did not Wolffe bite Walon Vau during commando training?’ Boba asked.

Ponds sighed. ‘Our vode are di’kut’s.’

‘Walon kriffing Vau?’ Sho’cye gaped, peering up from his scanner. ‘What the kriff?’

‘Vau just laughed it off and said Wolffe was mandokarla,’ Ponds reminisced. ‘Even though I am pretty certain it left a scar.’

Sho’cye blinked. ‘You vode are insane.’

‘Yep. See anything else of import on Boba’s scans?’

‘Uh…no. Just traces of well-healed bone injuries and the like. Organs are in good health. Time for blood draws now, vod’ika. Do you want me to count down or just go for it?’ Sho’cye asked.

‘Go for it,’ Boba said, and let Sho’cye do his work.

It was over relatively quickly, unlike the prolonged needle torture the kaminiise had performed whenever Boba had gotten physicals on Kamino. Sho’cye pulled away with the vials he needed and Boba relaxed, albeit a miniscule amount. 

Because his father’s voice was ringing in his ears and he couldn’t stop it. 

Why are you showing them your belly so soon, verd’ika? You were so angry at them. You still are, but you are softening, you are being kind to the bastards who abandoned you and letting them parent you like they weren’t partially to blame for the year you spent with Bane and Sing.

Only hours ago you hated them. Show them your claws, Bob’ika. They hurt you and you are letting them get away with him.

But the thing was, Boba wasn’t sure that he’d ever actually hated his vode. He’d been an angry, bitter, man left the last one standing on a battlefield of blood and plastoid, scattered and scarred buy’ce stacked into a hill, weathered by the elements but eerily like scars, and his vode had simply been the most convenient targets.

And if anyone abandoned me, buir, it was you, Boba thought as Sho’cye placed the vials of Boba’s blood into a fridge to test later. You died. You left me all alone, isolated from my brothers.

‘All right,’ Sho’cye said, snapping Boba from his thoughts. ‘The testing’s going to take a bit, so you two should go get some food in the mess. I’ll message the Commander if anything comes back abnormal.’

Ponds stood up from the chair he had perched himself in at some point and stretched, his back popping as he did so. Boba sat up and climbed down from the table he had been lying on.

‘Elek, baar’ur,’ Ponds said, smiling at Boba. ‘Ret’urcye mhi, Sho’cye.’

‘Ret’urcye mhi, Commander. Farewell, Boba. Stay out of trouble, eh? Otherwise you’ll end up like me, part cyborg,’ said Sho’cye with a smile.

‘I”ll try,’ Boba replied, not entirely truthfully. ‘Ret’urcye mhi, Sho’cye.’

Sho’cye nodded at him and then Ponds and Boba walked out of the medic’s office, nearly getting trampled in the process by another clone. This one had the normal appearance of a clone, the almost mirror image of Boba’s buir (and presumably an older Boba as well), with jet-black hair, copper skin, and dark brown eyes, as well as all of his limbs.

However, his armor was not the traditional blood red of the Coruscant Guard, or even a red at all- not even the similar shades of the Galactic Marines, (or the 91st Recon, or the 87th Sentinel Corps- though that was kind of a purple). Rather, this clone’s armor was white with streaks of purple and copper. 

On his breastplate was painted a scythe, and he had a lightsaber scar on the side of his throat. 

So this is Scythe, Boba thought, surveying the Coruscant Guard’s other medic. 

Obviously he had the scythe for his name, and purple for luck, but copper? Boba could not remember what that meant in Mando’ade culture. 

‘Sorry, sir,’ Scythe said curtly, and then he was gone before Ponds (who had opened his mouth) could say anything.

Ponds closed his mouth, gestured at Boba, and the two of them walked off, Boba still puzzling over the color choices on Scythe’s armor as well as the lightsaber scar on the vod’s neck- weren’t jetii supposed to take care of their troops? Had one of the Generals been hurting him?

Or had it been one of the dar’jetii? Whatever the answer, Boba hoped that his vod was safe from whoever had left that mark upon his neck.

*************************************************************************************************************

Fox marched into the barracks, his kama swaying as he lumbered into the main rec room of it. The room, which had been almost ridiculously noisy before he came in, because of the ongoing prank war, silenced instantly. 

‘Hey, Foxy!’ A certain Kiffar jetii called from where he was currently scheming with Stone and Thire, catching Fox off guard.

Fox did a double take. ‘Vos?’

Quinlan winked at him. ‘Hey, cyare.’

Fox turned bright red, almost the exact shade of his armor, as he spluttered. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Helping your boys with a prank war, cyar’ika,’ Quinlan said. ‘Wait, you slept? Without me?!’

Stone choked on thin air and Thire barely hid a laugh behind his hand as he thumped his vod’s back. Fox glared at both of them, but apparently his blush made him seem much less threatening, because they did not seem to care.

(To be fair, he always teased Wolffe about being a total bottom all the time, so he was used to this sort of brotherly teasing about sexual relations.)

Quinlan stood up and crossed the room in what seemed like milliseconds as he peered at Fox in concern.

‘Are you alright, Fox?’ Quinlan whispered, peering at him for any sign of injury but not touching.

Fox, in response, just took Quinlan’s hand, hoping his jetii’s psychometry would explain what he couldn’t. 

Quinlan’s eyes widened. ‘Oh.’ He smiled at Fox softly. ‘I’m happy for you, Fox.’

Fox softened. ‘Thanks, cyare.’

Quinlan ran his hand through Fox’s slightly greasy curls. ‘I’ll try and keep the explosions to a minimum,’ the jetii said quietly. ‘Now go wrangle your brothers, elek?’

Fox knew how much his cyare loved chaos, so for Quinlan to offer to contain himself was…well, it meant a lot, and to Fox it showed just how much Quinlan loved him. And Fox loved him too. So, regulations be damned, and knowing that there were no cameras in the barracks and that his brothers would never report him, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the jetii’s briefly before pulling back.

‘Good luck,’ Fox said softly (very unusual for him), and then he turned and left, heading back to his quarters.

Once inside he grabbed his datapad and peered at his unread messages.

Best Commanders

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Oh Prime oh Prime why is Neyo asking me for dating advice

C.Gree (CC-1004): Ah, it’s General Skoll xD

C.Gree (CC-1004): He’s dark and brooding and Neyo has a MAJOR crush on him lmao

C.Gree (CC-1004): Haven’t met him so I don’t know his feelings about Neyo but apparently he likes working with General Allie the most ;)

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Baylan Skoll??? 

C.Bacara (CC-1038): …

C.Bacara (CC-1038): In Neyo’s defense 

C.Bly (CC-1052): Y’all hella gay lmao 

C.Bacara (CC-1038): You two are the outliers, @C.Bly (CC-1052) & @C.Gree (CC-1004) you’re the crazy ones

C.Bacara (CC-1038): Also have you SEEN General Skoll he is built like a kriffin Seppie tank 

C.Cody (CC-1024): @C.Fox (CC-1010) we are arriving in nine hours 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): I would leave Bacara to suffer but unfortunately

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): I have worked with General Skoll and he is. Very much a walking Sexuality Crisis 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): My poor shinies 

C.Bly (CC-1052): Wasn’t he knighted just after Geonosis?

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): And we’re all technically children, di’kut, what’s your point; also Rex’s boy was knighted then too 

C.Bly (CC-1052):... Good point

C.Cody (CC-1024): @C.Fox (CC-1010) are you alive 

C.Cody (CC-1024): @C.Ponds (CC-1011) what the hell is going on?

C.Ponds (CC-1011): oh whoops

C.Ponds (CC-1011): He’s asleep

C.Cody (CC-1024): That’s unusual for our sleep-deprived vod

C.Ponds (CC-1011): I made him

C.Ponds (CC-1011): also he’s cuddling with Boba so

C.Cody (CC-1024):  !

C.Bly (CC-1052): He gets Boba cuddles :( while I’m stuck in the Outer Rim :( this is very unfair :( 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): I agree 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): lets revolt and storm triple zero 

C.Ponds (CC-1011): how about No

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): Go kriff yourself 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): I need my emotional support kih’vod 

C.Gree (CC-1004): I GOT SHOT IN THE SHOULDER

C.Bacara (CC-1038): because you’re in idiot 

C.Cody (CC-1024): I’m sure your General took care of you with a nice massage ;)

C.Gree (CC-1004): AHDMMFMOEKFO

C.Gree (CC-1004): oh shit my medic is coming for me im not supposed to be on my pad ingottago

C.Bly (CC-5052): Do you have a concussion you karking di’kut

C.Gree (CC-1004): jfrkwgr

C.Gree (CC-1004): this is cmo twi and yes the commander has a concussion as well as his blaster injuries. He’s a moron. 

C.Cody (CC-1024): lmao

And then, the most recent:

C.Cody (CC-1024): @C.Fox (CC-1010), @C.Ponds (CC-1011) almost there, two hours to go 

And Fox smiled.

Chapter Text

Fox returned to the main room of the barracks and found that Ponds and Boba were playing sabaac with Stone and Quinlan. The four were laughing.

Kriff, Fox thought, his heart aching, they look so happy.

Happiness was a rare thing in wartime, even here on Coruscant among the Coruscant Guard. So it was good to see Stone smile. As for the other three- Quinlan had just finished a month-long undercover stint and probably had not smiled at all during that time, Boba had spent a year with a mix of the scummiest beroya in the universe (and, considering they weren’t good parents, Boba smiling during that time had probably been as frequent as a clone like Glitch popping up in the ranks), and Ponds- Ponds had been off at combat for months, and war was hell. 

So Fox smiled at his aliit’s happiness, but he also worried deep down that this peaceful, happy interlude would not last. In the life of a clone, nothing good ever lasted. The only thing that was permanent was pain and misery…so they had to cling to the good moments when they did come their way.

‘Hello,’ Fox said, walking over to join them.

Boba looked up and grinned. ‘Fox!’

‘I see you survived the rest of Sho’cye’s inspection,’ Fox said. ‘Are you alright?’

Boba’s grin faded into a softer smile. ‘Elek, ner vod.’

‘Cyare!’ Quinlan grinned, making Fox’s ears blush red. ‘Back so soon?’

Fox sat down next to Quinlan.

‘Eh, just needed to check on something,’ he said.

Boba frowned. ‘Cyare? You’re dating a jetii?’

Ponds snorted. ‘Kid, the entire batch is.’

‘Except Bacara,’ Fox chimed in, rolling his eyes. ‘Because he has ‘the common sense’ not to have any romantic leanings whatsoever for anyone, let alone his jetii.’

Quinlan shrugged. ‘To be fair, Mundi is…not exactly lovable. I’d rather try my chances with General Yoda.’

Stone choked on thin air and Thire, who had just sat down with the group, thumped him on the back with a grin on his face. Fox rolled his eyes, used to his cyare’s shenanigans.  Boba stared at Quinlan like he was his hero, and Ponds sighed.

‘Right, Kote and Rex’ll be here in two hours, so we should probably set up a rendezvous,’ Ponds suggested, eying Quinlan like he was a bomb about to go off (a very apt comparison).

************************************************************************************************************

Boba wasn’t okay. He knew the memories of Geonosis would haunt him forever. But this, this moment, this happiness, would dull the edge of memory’s blade, and so he dwelled in the moment, choosing happiness over sorrow. 

If he let the darkness creep back in, if he let the rage and the grief and memories drag him down, his demons would consume him. And while he wasn’t built for combat the way his vode was, he knew it was easier to manage his pain if he enjoyed the good times more.

Once you let the rage swallow you completely, there is no coming back. Aaaray par aaaray, oya’cye par oya’cye, eye for an eye, it will destroy you, Bob’ika. I do not want you to do what I did.

Too late. Boba had. But now he was out. He was home, with his aliit, and he was unwilling to lose it again. He sighed quietly and returned his attention to the vode around him, pulling his mind away from his thoughts.

Fox nodded. ‘Good idea, ner vod.’ Fox grinned. ‘Go do it, Ponds.’

Ponds glared at him. ‘Kriffing shabuir.’

‘Your idea, your problem,’ Fox said calmly, his eyes bright. 

Ponds, grumbling, took a datapad from a nearby table and began typing on it. Boba, curious, peered over to read what his ori’vod was saying, even though everything was upside down.

Best Commanders

C.Ponds (CC-1011): @C.Cody (CC-1024) listen up you shabuir 

C.Ponds (CC-1011): meet us at the Neon Green Statue of General Kenobi when you & Rex’ika get here

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): He lives!!

C.Ponds (CC-1011): I messaged earlier >:(

C.Ponds (CC-1011): bitch

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): <3

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): Love you too, ori’vod 

C.Cody (CC-1024): Copy.

C.Bacara (CC-1038): wait why is general secura messaging me 

C.Bacara (CC-1038): OH MY FORCE 

C.Gree (CC-1004): ?

C.Ponds (CC-1011): isn’t your medic holding you hostage why are you messaging right now

C.Gree (CC-1004): I escaped through the air vents 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): and they say Gree’s the calmest of us

C.Gree (CC-1004): nah I just know how to get away with things 

C.Gree (CC-1004): unlike you di’kuts 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): speaking of which

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): @C.Ponds (CC-1011) Boba update?

C.Gree (CC-1004): FUCKKK

C.Cody (CC-1024): oop

C.Cody (CC-1024): vod are you alive 

C.Gree (CC-1004): Commander is now in custody.

C.Cody (CC-1024): Oh, hey Twi 

C.Gree (CC-1004): Hello commander.

C.Cody (CC-1024): Did he fall out of the vents again?

C.Gree (CC-1004): Yep.

C.Cody (CC-1024): Amateur. 

C.Ponds (CC-1011): @C.Wolffe (CC-1036) Boba’s alive, but he’s only been here a few hours and most of that was him asleep after a breakdown, so who knows how he’s doing emotionally

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): :( poor vod’ika 

C.Wolffe (CC-1036): but I have the distinct feeling that he’s reading this conversation right now, so you might want to watch your mouth before he shivs you 

Boba almost laughed but caught himself in time. Of course Wolffe knew him so well even after a year, he had taught Boba a lot of things. 

C.Cody (CC-1024): wait what happened to Bacara he just vanished

C.Bacara (CC-1038): um. 

‘Snoopy, eh?’ Vos teased, drawing Boba’s attention away from the words on his vod’s datapad.

Boba’s face turned the bright red of an overripe meiloruun, realizing that he had been caught. 

‘Shut up, cyare, you’re the nosiest of us all,’ Fox said. 

Vos faked an upset face. ‘Wow. Speak your true feelings about me, Foxy.’

Fox rolled his eyes, brown eyes glimmering with affection and mirth. ‘Di’kut.’

Stone sighed deeply, glancing at Boba with begging eyes. ‘Do you see what we have to put up with?’

‘Yeah. Sorry about that. Who knew Fox’ika was such a romantic?’ Boba teased his older brother.

‘You little shit-’ Fox began, bright red in the face.

Stone cut Fox off. ‘Eh. It’s true. But he’s in denial about it.’

‘I am not a romantic,’ Fox hissed. 

‘You kind of are, vod,’ Ponds said, his attention back to his datapad, which was unfortunately now positioned so Boba could not read it. 

Quinlan kissed Fox’s ear. ‘It’s okay, cyare. It’s not a bad thing.’

Fox pouted. ‘There goes my tough reputation.’

‘You never had one in the first place,’ Ponds said, and grimaced as Fox leaned over and punched him in the arm. ‘Ow. What, it’s true! Everyone knows that you’re a gigantic softy!’

‘Fuck you, Ponds!’ Fox snapped.

‘Sorry, not interested in incest,’ Ponds replied, perfectly monotone, which sent Stone into hysterics.

And honestly? Boba hadn’t been this happy in years.

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Gree was the next to show up, possibly because a wounded commander needed leave so he could heal before rejoining the fight. He showed up two days after Boba first arrived on Coruscant, a tall and regal Miralian dressed in a dark dress and headdress by his side. The jetii had small triangular tattoos on her face as well, and a short stripe on her chin. Her eyes were a piercing blue that seemed beautiful and remote at the exact same time- though when they glanced at Gree and the clones, they seemed to soften.

Gree himself was exactly how Boba remembered him, albeit bandaged up from his blaster wound and moving stiffly, from his stupid reddish-brown haircut (that everyone believed was dyed yet was actually natural; Gree had almost be decommissioned for it) to his almost extreme interest in aliens (which was exemplified by his relationship with his general…they were totally ‘secretely’ dating, as well as him promising to be Boba’s ‘instructor’ from here on out’).

Gree hugged Boba tightly with his uninjured arm. ‘Welcome back, vod’ika,’ he whispered. ‘It hasn’t been the same without you.’

************************************************************************************************************

Wolffe happened to Coruscant a week after Gree, and he…was the one who had changed the most. Physically, anyway. His left eye was now clear, grey, and cybernetic, a scar crossing over it. His jetii, a Kel Dor, seemed very much like Buir had- soft, warm, and protective of his boys; in the Jedi’s case, the Wolfpack. 

Wolffe punched him in the arm when he saw Boba again. Then he pulled him into a hug. 

‘I’m sorry, vod’ika,’ Wolffe whispered, his voice unusually ragged. ‘I failed you. Just like I failed my wolves.’

Boba, who had been caught up on the Battle of Abregado and the Wolfpack’s massive casualties during it by Gree, clung to his brother tightly.

‘No,’ Boba said, voice determined. ‘You saved me. What you taught me on Kamino saved my life after Geonosis.’

Buir didn’t have time to teach me a lot. You, Wolffe, taught me a lot of things, and all of them have kept me alive.

The two brothers sat there for a while, holding on to each other tightly, as if scared that if they let go the other would vanish. Both were scarred, inside and out, but both knew things would be better now that the other was here. 

************************************************************************************************************

Rex was the last to get leave. Fox said something about Rex’s General being the Chancellor’s poster boy, whatever that meant, so that meant Rex did not get a lot of downtime. When he did arrive, though, it went weird.

‘Rex!’ Boba yelled, running into the crowd of blue-and-white armor and aiming for the kama-wearing blonde-haired vod whose helmet bore jaig eyes.

Rex turned and let out an ‘oof’ as Boba slammed into him, wrapping his arms around the painted plastoid armor.

‘Boba?’ Rex asked, surprised.

‘Damn right,’ Boba grinned up at Rex.

Rex’s jetii, who wore surprisingly dark clothes and had short hair that shone golden-brown, suddenly appeared. Like Wolffe he had a scar across his left eye, but he had managed to keep his eye. One of his hands was gloved- possibly a prosthetic. He peered at Boba with curiosity and Boba peered back. Something about this jetii seemed different.

‘Who’s this?’ Rex’s jetii asked.

‘My vod, sir. Boba,’ Rex answered.

‘Do you like to fly, Boba?’ The jetii asked. ‘I enjoy it greatly myself. Much better than being on the ground.’

Boba smirked, sensing that he and this jetii could get on well; Boba loved flying. ‘Fuck yeah!’

‘Ahsoka! What do you think about having a sibling?’ The jetii called.

‘What??!’ Rex cried.

(And that was the beginning of how Boba accidentally got adopted by Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala, found two families- one new and one old, saved the galaxy by forcing Anakin to be a more emotionally-rational person, and became Luke and Leia’s adoptive older brother.)