Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Rex had undergone ARC training on Kamino, he had expected the risks that came with captaincy. He had understood it meant more dangerous missions, meant being assigned a Jedi, who seemed to attract trouble like magnets, meant being responsible for sending brothers into the field to their potential, even likely demise. He’d accepted that, because that was what it meant to be a solider, and Rex had faith he could look out for himself and his vode. What he hadn’t expected was the flimsiwork. And how much it kriffing sucked.

Cody had patted him on the back the first time he’d complained, the gesture sympathetic but his smirk anything but. “Welcome to the glories of command, vod,” he’d said. “We’re happy to have you.”

Which is all well and good for Cody. The command class likes to joke that the Commander’s spreadsheets have spreadsheets, and Cody is meticulous and organized and, probably most importantly, was assigned a Jedi who actually does his own flimsiwork on time. Rex has spent the entire first year of this war listening to Cody wax poetic about General Kenobi’s field reports, both in terms of timeliness and thoroughness, and it’s enough to make Rex want to gag. He loves his ori’vod, but if he has to hear one more treatise on why Kenobi’s requisitions templates are almost as good as Cody’s own, he’s going to lock the door on them when they’re doing flimsiwork together and not let them out until Cody actually kriffs his Jedi General about it, and he’s pretty sure most of the 212^th would give him their blessing. So far, Cody has remained staunchly insistent that his admiration for General Kenobi is strictly professional and platonic, despite every evidence to the contrary. Which only makes the temptation more tempting.

It might be less annoying if General Skywalker was capable of sitting still long enough to do his own mission reports. The 501^st has Commander Appo to run point on some of them, but Rex is the one who does the most field work with Skywalker, which means Rex is the one who has to run the debriefings and send the intel on to GAR Central Command. As General, Skywalker should at least be pulling some of his own weight, but General Skywalker likes assigning himself other projects, like taking his ship apart and putting it back together again, until it’s only recognizable as a starfighter on the outside, because the inside has been modded to hell and back. Rex has had to politely remind him a few times to keep his hands off Shadow Squadron’s ships while he’s at it. Clone reflexes are good, but they don’t handle like a Jedi.

Between that and his private calls to the Naboo Senator, which Rex is pretty sure Skywalker thinks only Rex knows about – the whole battalion knows, not because Rex can’t keep his mouth shut but because Skywalker is painfully obvious about what Rex is pretty sure is a gross violation of, if not Jedi code, then at least GAR/Senate conflicts of interest, though it’s not his place to point that out – his general manages to keep busy, which means Rex does his own flimsiwork and then some. Not that he does one hundred percent of Skywalker’s: no, Skywalker manages probably a quarter of it on his own, and another quarter which needs heavy revision to be up to the Third System’s (read: Cody’s) standards. The remaining fifty percent, Rex shares with his Padawan Commander.

When he’d asked Cody if that was normal, Cody had shrugged. “Obi-Wan says his master pawned off a lot of Jedi mission reports on him during his training. Probably where he got all the practice.” For once, he hadn’t looked starry-eyed, but a little thunderous, and Rex had decided to shut down that conversation before Cody decided that whatever landmine Rex had inadvertently triggered, the natural response was to put Rex on his shebs on a sparring mat about it. Rex was a top hand-to-hand fighter even before his ARC training, but he learned most of his best tricks from Cody. Against most other vode, he can hold more than his own, but he doesn’t need the embarrassment of that showing.

Which means Rex has mostly accepted that flimsiwork is part of the war, even if he isn’t happy about it. He does his own mission reports and edits Skywalker’s, signs off on duty rosters and casualty reports, and okays the requisitions lists sent to him by the medics and the quartermasters before sending them up the chain to be inevitably denied. That might be his least favorite part of all this: he knows intimately how little his brothers can get by on, not even of luxuries but necessities. The Senate, despite being the head of the GAR, does not. Which makes it a kriffing nightmare to get everything they need.

Medical supplies might be the worst. Rex is pretty sure someone, somewhere, is only counting the commissioned natborn and Jedi officers in terms of need for stocking bandages and bacta. Every medspray is hard-fought, every icer as much a victory as downing a clanker squadron. Kix manages to keep a good attitude about it, but Rex doesn’t relish the pinch on the man’s face every time he informs Rex over latemeal that they’re rationing hypos again.

Requisitioning medical supplies is never easy, but these past couple weeks have made Rex even more acutely aware of just how easy it should be, how irritating is it that it’s not. They’ve been doing hyperlane patrol, thank the stars, so it’s not life or death for the first time in a while, but none of the clones under his command like to see their Padawan Commander in pain. Rex gets a front-row seat to it more than any other: he’s the one who sits in on lightsaber training sessions when Skywalker wants his padawan to practice against multiple opponents. He’s the one who makes sure the jet’ika is eating properly, when she’s almost as bad as any of her full-grown counterparts about hovering over battlemaps and strategy boards until she’s cross-eyed with fatigue. He’s the one who sits with her in the briefing rooms, Rex balancing his workload and the General’s, Commander Tano picking up the slack on top of her own Jedi training curriculum, and it’s been grating on Rex’s every protective instinct, hearing the subvocal whine the young Togruta has been trying and failing to suppress for the last several days.

Rex is Human Standard, like every man in the army. It’s been a learning curve for many of them, working with the Jedi. Skywalker is hard enough to get a handle on, Human Standard plus the Force. Wolffe’s Jedi is basically allergic to oxygen, as Rex understands it, which makes the territorial Commander that much more frantic and protective, especially after the decimation of the 104^th. Monnk has detailed an embarrassing experience of a few men under his command trying to rescue General Fisto from drowning, to the Nautolan’s amusement, and even Bly, who mainly works with the Twi’lek General Secura, has confided that there are more biological differences than the headtails, requiring an adjustment period for the men and the medics as they’d updated their training. With that in mind, Rex had done his homework when they’d been assigned a Padawan Commander. Togruta were near-human, but there was no sense being complacent.

For the most part, it had meant assigning men to set up hunting exercises, indulging Commander Tano’s burgeoning predator species instincts. Skywalker had approved; when they’re planetside, it’s usually local rodents, but when they’re in hyperspace too long, they’ve even arranged chases, and Rex still isn’t sure if it’s a punishment or a reward for the men assigned to the case. The Commander can be a vicious little thing when she wants to be, and as one of the hunted volunteers, Rex knows what a workout evading her can be. And there’s nothing like the heart-stopping surprise of a tiny Jedi hunter dropping on top of you from the ceiling, cackling as she flattens you to the floor with her sheer weight. For a twiggy little teen, Commander Tano is pure compact muscle when she needs to be.

It had been the hunting that first alerted Rex there was a problem. They’d run one, after about two weeks of dead hyperspace duty, and Jesse had ended up needing a couple stitches after Ahsoka had sunk her teeth into his forearm on a ‘kill.’ She’d apologized profusely, looking horrified, and Jesse had told her it was okay – his fault, really, but that was what he got for going without armor, trying to be stealthy. Rex had checked in with Skywalker, who had said Ahsoka was going to meditate on her instincts. Kix had agreed.

“She’s about fifteen now, isn’t she?” he’d said. “That’s usually when Togruta start teething anyway.”

Right. Because near-human actually meant something. Rex has never dealt with a teething tubie, isn’t even sure when or if it happens for human species, and this might be normal for Togruta, but that doesn’t mean Rex has to like it. He’s known his Padawan Commander was from a predator species, but he’s used to seeing her with flat teeth. Knowing some growing pains are normal when a predator youngling’s fangs are coming in doesn’t make it any easier, hearing her biting back whines of pain.

It's setting Skywalker on edge too. He can probably feel it in the Force or something. He might not do his reports on time, but Rex knows he’s done his own reading, provided by General Kenobi, on helping a predator youngling. There are tips, same as Rex has read, but most of them don’t account for war zone resource allocation. When it first started getting bad, Rex had spoken to Kix about getting icers, with Skywalker’s blessing. Kix had been all for it, even with the meds in short supply, but Ahsoka had all but ordered them to drop it; there were more important things to be using their supplies for than her teething pains. Rex wasn’t totally sure he agreed, but he understood Jedi pride enough to recognize a losing battle. Whether or not he and Kix outrank the Padawan Commander, at least in this instance – Rex on field experience, Kix as a medic – is up for debate, but even Skywalker, who clearly outranks her, had been reluctant to naysay. Who knew if the Seppies might drop in, and then they might really need the supplies. If Ahsoka wanted them, it wouldn’t be a waste, but if she refused…well, Rex wasn’t going to strap her down and make her take one. It wasn’t his place.

So it’s been a rough couple weeks, and it’s only getting rougher. Togruta don’t lose any of their teeth, just rearrange them, as the newly growing fangs start to push up from the gums, displacing the others into a tighter array. Rex isn’t privy to the progress, and Ahsoka has been tight-lipped, literally and figuratively, but he knows the pain is only increasing. She’s been putting on a brave face around the men, but Rex thinks Skywalker must have taken her aside to reassure her after the first week, because though she’s stoic around her master and Rex, she’s not pretending.

That was before the rendezvous, though. They’re set to link up with the Negotiator for a few days, offloading some supplies and troop refresh, as well as going over some strategy for sector deployment, like anything has happened in the dead of space the entire time they’ve been sitting on the hyperlane. Ahsoka hasn’t been taking it as well as Rex expected, alternating between gnawing on her fingers the way she’s started doing the past five-day and folding them tight behind her back against temptation, bouncing on her heels the way she does when she’s nervous as they wait for the 212^th envoy to disembark. Seeing General Kenobi is likely the culprit. Normally, Rex thinks she’d be excited to see her grandmaster, and even maybe Cody, as they work with the 212^th often enough for her to be familiar with the officers, if not the shinies. Ahsoka loves Kenobi, respects him in a way that frankly, Rex isn’t sure she respects her actual master – though, in fairness, Skywalker has only a few years on her, where Kenobi carries himself with a wisdom and weight like he’s seen centuries, even if Rex knows he’s seen less than four decades, all told. Probably, it’s the thought of disappointing him, appearing less than composed over something so minor, that has her fidgeting this badly, fighting her instincts every step of the way. Kenobi is a proper Jedi, and Ahsoka desperately wants to prove she’s mastering her training.

They wait for the arrival outside the briefing room, and Rex isn’t surprised to feel his shoulders sag with relief beneath his armor as he catches sight of the orange sunbursts and visor decorating Cody’s bucket as his vod rounds the corner, a half-step behind Kenobi as is proper. They have secure comms channels, private Vode ones in addition to GAR, but there’s a comfort in seeing a brother in the flesh, and though Rex has gotten close to many of the men under his command, his closeness with Cody goes all the way back to Kamino, the ori’vod who took Rex under his wing when Rex was just a cadet with a pigment mutation trying to prove his own worth. Kenobi gives Rex a smile and a, “Captain. Good to see you,” before turning to his lineage, which gives Rex enough time to nod back before Cody is stepping up, greeting him with a forearm clasp.

“You look tense,” Cody says, echoing privately over Rex’s helmet channels. “Don’t tell me babysitting a hyperlane has you squirrely.”

Rex shoots Cody an unimpressed look; by the tilt of Cody’s bucket, he’s sure the mir’sheb is smirking right back, though neither of their faces are visible. You get good at reading a brother in armor, and Rex can read Cody like nobody else. Save maybe a Jedi, and Rex casts a meaningful glance towards Kenobi, who is saying hello to Skywalker and Tano with clasped hands and warm smiles. He doesn’t need to say anything; he can feel Cody’s glower at even the implication, and Rex bites back his own smirk. He’ll catch hell for it later, if Cody stays long enough to get Rex on the sparring mats, but Rex is counting on General Kenobi to occupy too much of Cody’s attention to bother kicking his vod’ika’s shebs in front of the men.

Cody, though, seems to do a double-take as his attention flicks towards the Jedi cluster, and his shoulders reset in curious confusion. Rex isn’t sure what he’s pinged about it, so keeps his own reaction carefully neutral, even as he sees Ahsoka fighting to smile through a grimace. As they take seats in the briefing room, Cody and Rex doffing their buckets onto the table, Rex doesn’t miss the mirroring crease between the eyebrows as Cody and Kenobi share a look. Something protective flashes in Rex: if Skywalker can feel Ahsoka’s discomfort in the Force, Kenobi probably can too, even if she’s done a good job keeping the whining to a minimum. Rex hopes General Kenobi isn’t about to fall in his esteem. Thus far, he’s only known him to be kind and patient with Ahsoka, even at her most excitable and headstrong. She might remind him of Skywalker in that respect, considering Kenobi’s knighted padawan doesn’t quite seem to have outgrown it himself.

“I want to apologize,” Kenobi says regretfully, signaling the meeting is coming to order. Rex clasps his hands on the table, coming to attention. “We’ve done our best with the requisitions list, but considering the Resolute isn’t intended to be on the front lines for the next few weeks, a full restock wasn’t deemed necessary by GAR Central Command.” He glances at Cody. “We’ve supplemented what we could with our own supplies, but I’m afraid it’s a little short all around.”

“What else is new,” Skywalker grouses. At least he’s paying that much attention; he has to sign requisition forms too, even if Rex submits them. “They know that if they wait until we are on the front lines, it’s too late?”

“Oh, they know,” Cody bites out, his face flat and professional but his tone the kind of scathing Rex is still adjusting to using in front of natborns, even his General. “They’ve just decided it’s our problem.”

“That’s not fair!” Ahsoka bursts out, sounding distressed. Rex isn’t sure how much of it is genuine upset at the news, and how much is her own discomfort. She schools herself when attention swivels to her, ducking her head and folding her hands in her lap. “I mean, it’s not right. If we’re fighting a war, shouldn’t the Senate want to make sure we have everything we need to fight it?”

Kenobi gives her a small, sad smile. It’s an expression Rex is becoming familiar with from the Jedi. “You won’t find any disagreements here. Unfortunately, that is the difficult reality of war: those who are fighting it rarely make the budgets.”

Ahsoka huffs, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. She’s clenching her jaw again, Rex notes, and it won’t be long before she’s grinding her teeth. He clears his throat to get attention off her. “Well, there’s no use complaining over the same spilt Bantha milk. You’re here to discuss redeployments, yeah? What do they think, that the Seppies are going to decide this region is interesting just because a couple more Jedi stopped by to say hello?”

It earns him a snort from Cody and Skywalker and amusement from Kenobi, doing the trick of refocusing the meeting. Ahsoka casts him a side-eye that tells Rex she knows exactly what he’s doing, but there’s gratitude as much as defensiveness. She grits her jaw tighter, and Rex is grateful that Cody and Kenobi are on the other side of the room. They just need to keep it together through this meeting, and then Skywalker or Rex can spirit Ahsoka off in the guise of some training duty or other, sparing her dignity until the 212^th and Kenobi depart.

To her credit, Ahsoka does manage to keep it together through the first twenty minutes of briefing, while Skywalker and Cody go head-to-head on the best ship formations for communication nets. Rex hears an occasional whimper, swallowed hard into her throat, but she’s sitting next to him. Even Skywalker doesn’t have the hearing to pick it up without using the Force. Rex wonders if it’s his imagination, the way Kenobi seems to twitch every time Ahsoka does it, so every time she does, Rex tries to interject something else into the conversation, egging it on. Skywalker gets louder the more he’s challenged, and though Cody’s volume doesn’t change, the weight of the air around him does. Rex thinks it’s a command skill, altering gravity like that. Commander Cody’s sheer presence can make shinies shit themselves. It’s a skill Rex is still learning to master.

It's a pointless effort though. Skywalker has been goaded into standing, gesturing emphatically in Cody’s direction, and Rex does have to suppress a smirk at that image. He may not trust Skywalker to do his own flimsiwork, but he does respect the man’s fighting skills and his pilot’s intuition. It’s more than met its match, however, in Cody’s stone-cold tactical training, and Cody is standing too, his arms tight behind him in a rigid parody of attention. But despite the two of them dominating the room and the conversation, Kenobi – who, like Rex, is still sitting placidly in his chair – leans forward abruptly, taking advantage of Skywalker’s sharp inhale before continuing to interrupt his rant. Unlike Rex, he doesn’t add anything to the heated debate going on above them, instead focusing in on his grandpadawan sitting across from him. “Ahsoka, are you feeling well?”

The room goes silent. Judging by the fact that the question had been immediately preceded by a low, barely audible keen, Ahsoka is not feeling well at all, and based on the blush that darkens her orange skin, she really wishes he hadn’t asked. Rex sits forward minutely, his own shoulders going tense. He’s not sure if there’s anything he can do, getting between a Jedi Master and a padawan in need of scolding, nor is he sure Kenobi actually means to scold. He sounds concerned, at least, but Skywalker has expressed frustration a few times with just how perfect a Jedi his former master proports to be. Rex has run a few missions with Kenobi by now, and talked to Cody, and he’s not sure that assessment is all it’s cracked up to be, but the fact is, he’s known Kenobi a cycle, and General Skywalker has known him over a decade. Rex just can’t be sure, and his loyalty is to his Padawan Commander, even if Kenobi is a High General of the GAR.

Ahsoka manages the attention shift with aplomb, diplomatic and polite as she says, “I’m fine, Master. It’s just been frustrating, all this waiting.” It’s a perfect answer, delivered with a small smile – and that, Rex thinks, is the mistake, as a flash of teeth becomes visible, baby fangs starting to protrude over her bite line. She realizes it too, going tight-lipped again as Kenobi straightens up, his eyes widening with understanding.

“Ah,” he says. He clears his throat, and hedges, “You’re certain?”

“I’m sure, Master. I’m alright.”

Kenobi’s gaze flicks to Cody’s; for his part, Rex’s vod has gone quiet too, his posture opening out of antagonistic with Skywalker into something strangely defensive, his eyes darting back and forth between Kenobi and Rex’s Padawan Commander – and occasionally back to Rex’s General again. Finally, Kenobi folds his hands on the table, leaning into it. His voice is kind when he says, “I have very good hearing, dear one. Your fangs are coming in, aren’t they?”

Ahsoka blanches, orange turning almost as white as her markings. Skywalker goes on the offensive immediately. “It’s not her fault!” He glowers down at his former master, crossing his arms tight. “You know we’re short on med supplies. She can’t help it if it hurts.” It doesn’t exactly get attention off his padawan, but Rex can appreciate him trying. It’s one of his General’s most admirable qualities, his loyalty to the people he cares about. It’s a little uncomfortable seeing it directed against the man who basically raised him, but since it’s in defense of Ahsoka, Rex supposes it makes sense. Skywalker probably has a ranking somewhere, which may be un-Jedi, but does prove he cares about the men under his command. Rex thinks he’s squarely somewhere in the middle there, which is a worry and a relief at the same time.

Kenobi, to his credit, looks a little startled and a hair’s breadth short of offended. He squares his shoulders, head titled up in a way that suddenly emphasizes Skywalker’s looming form, in a manner that suggests he’s unimpressed. Skywalker looks abruptly cowed, and slowly sinks back into his seat. It’s only once he has that Kenobi says primly, “I’d never suggest otherwise. The teething process for most predator juveniles can be quite uncomfortable, and I’m merely surprised Ahsoka is comporting herself with so much ease under the circumstances. I have it on good authority from the Temple that I was rather a terror during my own teething process, and I did have access to adequate medical supplies for the duration.”

He says the last bit with a conspiratory smile in Ahsoka’s direction, which makes the Togruta bite back a giggle and a trill, her blush still embarrassed but much less anxious this time. Skywalker, though, looks a bit like Kenobi’s dropped an EMP on the conference room table.

Cody, Rex notes, does not look surprised.

“I, uh,” Skywalker swallows, drawing the look of his former master. “I didn’t realize you…”

That makes two of them, but between Skywalker and Rex, Rex isn’t the one who should know. At least Kenobi seems firmly on Ahsoka’s side. It’s a little worrying that his support seems to have taken Skywalker this badly by surprise.

Those pamphlets make a lot more sense, in hindsight. Kenobi was intended to be Ahsoka’s master first. Even if fate – or maybe the old troll that is the Order’s Grandmaster – had other plans afoot.

Kenobi lets out a soft sigh, as if thinking the same. “Really, Anakin,” he says, glancing towards Cody and then back again. Rex wonders if that’s reflexive; Cody’s stance shifts in response, still on his feet, and Kenobi’s ears color faintly in return. He clears his throat and adds, “You are aware I’m near-human.”

“I know,” Skywalker says, sounding like he hadn’t actually remembered until that moment. “I just…”

“I suppose in your defense, it’s not something I discuss very often.” Kenobi’s expression has dropped into mild discomfort, and Rex doesn’t miss the way Cody’s posture shifts again, defaulting ever so slightly towards him. Kenobi’s not wrong; it’s public record, technically, that Kenobi is classified as a near-human species, although the files even in the Jedi and GAR records don’t clarify more. Skywalker isn’t the most observant, but it’s unlikely he spent a decade being trained by the man without his species coming up at least once. But also in Skywalker’s defense, Rex had forgotten himself. Just like so many of his brothers have learned over the course of this war, it’s been easy for Rex to forget, when he has a Human Standard General for his commander, that their generals overall are Jedi by creed. It’s not a species in its own right. Kenobi looks human, and his behavior is quintessentially Jedi. Cody’s authority or not, Rex forgets that he’s a person sometimes, as opposed to a mythic warrior. He certainly acts the part in front of the men.

“You don’t have fangs now,” Skywalker points out, a little petulantly. He sounds more wrong-footed than Rex is used to him being. “I think I would have noticed.”

Skywalker hasn’t noticed that half the GAR, his master included, knows about his relationship with the Naboo Senator. He also hasn’t noticed that there’s definitely something going on between his old master and Rex’s ori’vod, even if Cody denies it. Kenobi rarely smiles with his teeth. Rex wouldn’t have been shocked if they’d all just never noticed before.

But: “I filed them down when I was thirteen,” Kenobi says mildly, and ignores the way even Rex, Force-null as he is, can feel that rock the room. Skywalker and Ahsoka both straighten in response. He adds, “It’s a very standard ritual for my people.”

Rex catches Cody’s expression twitch, finally sitting down again at Kenobi’s right hand. Regardless of how true that statement may or may not be, it’s clear his vod emphatically disagrees. Rex wonders who, exactly, Kenobi’s people are. Near-human can mean a lot of things.

Ahsoka’s eyes have gone very wide, and her paleness now isn’t due to embarrassment. She leans forward, hugging herself almost defensively. “Did it hurt?” she asks.

Kenobi hesitates a beat too long. That’s a yes, then, and one the Negotiator doesn’t want to cop to. “A little,” he allows. “But no one is expecting you to undergo that process, dear one. Togruta hardly share the practice, and I had several reasons to go through with it that I hope do not apply to you.” Yeah, Rex definitely doesn’t miss that angry twitch from Cody. His vod is often vague when he decries his general’s tendencies to disregard his own safety, but Rex knows it goes deeper than the war. He thinks again about how Cody had gotten thunderous when he’d brought up Kenobi’s old master, who died around the time Rex knows he and his brothers were first created. Maybe there’s more than flimsiwork there.

Skywalker looks caught between three types of anger, at varying degrees of severity. That’s pretty standard for him, and even a year into the war, Rex is still deciding if he wants to learn how to parse that mess or leave it be. For now, he chooses the latter, as Kenobi adds, “Fortunately for me, and for you, my dear, Cody has been kind enough to track down some bunta bark tea, to help with my jaw aches.”

“Bunta is poisonous,” Skywalker objects.

“The leaves, yes,” Kenobi says. And, well. At least he’s not poisoning himself on accident. Not that Rex thinks Cody would stand for that. “The bark is very effective for pain relief, particularly of this sort. The Temple Healers use it, in addition to more advanced medicines. It was very effective when my fangs were growing in.” He directs his attention again to Ahsoka. “If you’d like to stop by my quarters later, I can give you some to keep here, to see if it works for you.”

“Thank you, Master.” There’s no small amount of relief in Ahsoka’s voice, though she’s clearly trying to school her expression at least a little. Kenobi is nodding, but Cody is the one who catches Rex’s eye, fishing something out of his utility belt, holding it out towards Ahsoka.

She takes it reflexively, and Rex cranes to look. It’s a strip of bark, dark and gnarled on one side, almost yellow underneath. “Raw bunta bark,”  Cody says by way of explanation, and Rex gets to watch the flash of surprise and tenderness that Kenobi schools quickly, apparently just as taken aback as the rest of the room. Purely platonic, Rex’s ass. “Not as good as the tea, but chewing it will help, with the pain and the biting instinct.”

Ahsoka casts a quick look at Skywalker; he still looks a little pissed, but gives a brief nod of assent. She bites it loosely first, testing it between her back teeth, and then tears off a strip to work at diligently. Even without Force-sensitivity, Rex can see the response is almost instant: as she chews, her whole body slumps in relief.

“Well then,” Kenobi says, still making soft eyes at Cody. A shame: Kenobi, Rex can’t tease. “I suppose we should get back underway?”

Skywalker doesn’t look happy about it, but he diligently goes back to arguing about troop deployments. For Rex’s part, he’s just happy to hear the quiet chewing to his left. Ahsoka isn’t making those little pained whimpers anymore, and Rex counts on it to thank his vod later for the unexpected boon.

They rise at about the hour mark with a compromise that leaves Skywalker twitchy and Cody dissatisfied. Ahsoka is actually laughing, teasing her master playfully, and she grins widely for the first time in weeks when Kenobi offers for her to accompany him back to his quarters on the Negotiator, fetching the promised tea. Rex turns to follow after, at least out of the room, when Skywalker says tightly, “Did you know?”

Rex freezes. Skywalker is glowering at Cody, who for his part looks nonplussed, meeting Skywalker’s glare with blank neutrality. It roots Rex to the spot; he recognizes that look on Cody, and it’s the sort of look that could get a clone in trouble, if the natborn on the other end of it isn’t forgiving. “Did I know what, sir?” Cody asks, just shy of offending. Apparently, Rex’s General isn’t the only one wound up from this meeting.

“You know,” Skywalker bites out. “About Obi-Wan. About him having fangs. Did he tell you?” Rex doesn’t think he imagines the way the temperature drops a few degrees, and he shifts uneasily. Skywalker is his General, but Cody is Rex’s ori’vod. Rex hasn’t been ranking his personal loyalties. He’s not supposed to have personal loyalties, not really.

“Did he tell me he used to have them?” Cody says, and oh no. That’s not good. Cody’s posture would fool a casual onlooker into thinking he’s just at attention before a superior; Rex recognizes the Marshal Commander of 7^th Sky squaring up for a fight. “Or did he tell me he performed a self-mutilation ritual, alone, when he was barely more than a tubie?” Cody’s voice is too flat, too even, and Rex’s hackles raise in response as Cody takes a step forward, arms crossing with a clack of his vambraces. “Did he tell me how badly it hurt, to the point that he still get jaw aches, twenty-plus years later, from the karked up nerve endings?” Skywalker blinks, opening his mouth, and Cody steamrolls right over him. “No, sir, he didn’t, because he’d rather wait until he’s dying to even suggest he might inconvenience someone else.”

Skywalker looks like Cody has slapped him. For a moment, they’re both still poised to fight. Then, Rex watches the anger rush out of his brother, exhaled hard into the air between them as Cody looks away. “He mentioned he used to drink the tea when we were doing requisitions,” he says. “He said that he missed having access to it. I didn’t know what it was for until I looked into it myself, and our mess officer asked why I wasn’t bothering the medics about it instead. I knew Obi- I knew he got jaw aches sometimes, but I’d put it down to tension headaches or stress. After…I asked. I don’t like seeing my General in pain.”

It's not pointed, just tired, with a carefully masked ache that Skywalker probably can’t read but Rex can. Teasing Cody about Kenobi is all fun and games, until it isn’t. Skywalker is loyal. Cody is too. It’s built into their DNA.

Rex clears his throat, trying to deviate from whatever this little pissing contest is trying to prove. Skywalker’s upset, probably, that Cody knows when he doesn’t. Rex isn’t sure how to take that. Confiding in your second is different than confiding in a vod’ika, and Kenobi is somewhere between Skywalker’s ori’vod and his buir, neither of which lends itself to showing moments of weakness. Rex knows there are things Cody doesn’t tell him, burdens he only shares with his batchmates instead, and he knows that isn’t a lack of trust on Cody’s part. Rex doesn’t know Kenobi as well as he knows Skywalker and Ahsoka, but he does care about the man. He’s a good general, and he’s good to the men. “Why’d he do it?” he asks, hoping that coaxing a little more out of Cody will satisfy Skywalker – and, admittedly, Rex’s own curiosity. “Get rid of his fangs, I mean. I thought Jedi were Jedi. They didn’t really do their own species stuff.”

Cody’s face goes tight, glancing at Skywalker, who shrugs tensely. “Most do, to different degrees, I think,” Cody says. “Depends on the Jedi, I guess. Ob- General Kenobi wouldn’t go into detail about it. Apparently his…people are pretty insular. The ones out in the galaxy do this.”

It’s a pointed evasion, Rex realizes, of whether Cody actually knows Kenobi’s species or not. He wonders if Skywalker has figured that out. “He didn’t use the words ‘self-mutilation,’ did he?” Rex guesses.

“No, he didn’t. But if you’ve got a better word for a kriffing kid taking a laser file to his own teeth, I’d love to hear it.”

Rex doesn’t have a better word, but he does have a guess why Cody is so protective of General Kenobi, besides the obvious. Most of Skywalker’s anger has pivoted to uncertainty, which at least makes Rex feel less caught between his vod and his Jedi General. Still, he doesn’t love how hurt Skywalker sounds when he says, “Why wouldn’t he have told me?”

That raises Cody’s ire again, arching a dangerous eyebrow Skywalker’s way. “Have you ever asked?”

“No, but-“

Cody’s shoulders draw back, face rigid. His voice is a razor of politeness when he says, “General, with all due respect-“ and Rex hears the undercurrent that says just how much respect Cody thinks is actually due. Ouch. Rex does respect his General, but he supposes, if Kenobi is Cody’s priority, he can see why there might be some antagonism there. Skywalker has never shown a great deal of understanding towards his master as a person, as opposed to an ideal. “General Kenobi barely talks about his history,” Cody continues, “and he doesn’t talk about anything difficult unless you drag it from him kicking and screaming. Even if it has very real impacts on his health.”

“But he should trust me-“ Skywalker starts to protest.

Wrong move. Cody’s eyes go downright icy. “It’s not about whether or not he trusts you. You’re his ad, General. He’s not going to tell you things that make it look like he doesn’t have the answers. He wants you to be safe, and the Jedi have done kriff all to help him there.”

Maybe it’s that unexpected twist that Cody doesn’t love the Council either – Force knows, Rex had heard Skywalker complain about them often enough – but it derails whatever argument he’d been ramping up to. General Skywalker isn’t a shiny, and he’s not about to shit himself because Commander Cody is angry. But even if he doesn’t shrink in on himself, Rex can see the way he rocks back on his heels, letting some of that surprise push the anger away.

Cody must sense it too, because his voice loses the edge to it as he says, “It’s really not my place to discuss General Kenobi’s business, sir. If you want to know, ask. But I can tell you, this isn’t about you. It’s about him, and how he thinks he needs to be. And if you’d let him off that pedestal for a minute, instead of resenting that you’ve put him there, maybe you’d see that too.” He takes a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have duties.”

He nods at Rex, not waiting for the dismissal as he leaves. Skywalker stays rooted, shell-shocked, before he turns slowly. “Is he right?” Skywalker asks, undercurrents in his voice at war between uncertainty and demand. “About Obi-Wan?”

“You’re asking me?” Rex doesn’t want to get between whatever this is, but he does hesitate. “I don’t know him very well, General. You and Cody would know better than me. And I didn’t know about the fangs,” he adds, because it’s true, and he doesn’t need accusations of betrayal today.

Skywalker deflates, rubbing the back of his neck with his mechanical hand. His expression pinches unhappily. “I guess it’s good he could help Ahsoka. He’s kept quiet long enough; he didn’t have to say anything.”

“He cares about you, and the Commander,” Rex says. “You’re his family.” Like the Vode, aliit is different for the Jedi than most of the galaxy. But Rex knows lineage is important, knows Kenobi worries about his padawan and grandpadawan when he’s away. “I don’t know if he’s trying to hide things, or just doesn’t think they’re important, but I think if he thought they would help, he’d be willing to say something. I think Cody’s right. If you care about him being honest with you, you should ask.” It’s what Rex would do, anyway.

“Maybe.”

Rex has served under Skywalker a year, so he knows a ‘maybe’ is probably the best his General can do. Skywalker hates being wrong, doesn’t like to be challenged about his way of thinking. Doesn’t like to be challenged, point blank. Even Rex and Ahsoka have commiserated – mostly at the jet’ika’s goading, because Rex still isn’t comfortable going against his general – about how hard it can be to divert Skywalker, once he’s set on having his way. “Sir,” he says, an acknowledgement and his own dismissal, and Skywalker gives a distracted nod, face still twisted unhappily. Rex takes it, beating feet.

Ahsoka is all smiles when they meet up after latemeal, bouncing into the sparring gyms like she’s ready to take flight. “You’re in a better mood,” Rex says, smiling his own relief. He’s stretching, warming up himself, and half his own relief is that Cody is back on the Negotiator, and isn’t about lay Rex out on the mat for this afternoon’s display.

“The tea really helped, and Master Obi-Wan gave me plenty,” Ahsoka says. She drops her ‘sabers on the bench beside the mat, rolling her shoulders and neck as she joins him. “Kix thinks I’ll only need it for a few weeks.”

“And then we just have to keep you from tearing up my men with your teeth,” Rex teases. “Maybe I should put my armor back on, just in case.”

Ahsoka flushes, but her voice is playfully edged as she bares her teeth at him in retaliation. “Maybe you should. After all, it’d be embarrassing for the men to see their captain taken down by a Jedi-in-training.”

Rex snorts, grinning. “That’ll be the day.” It’s bravado, part of the game. Rex is a good soldier, and he’s good at what he does, but he and Ahsoka are still fifty-fifty during training spars, accounting for the Force. “Your master going to be late?”

Ahsoka shrugs one shoulder, dropping into fighting stance. “I saw him going to his quarters to make a call. I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to talk to Master Obi-Wan or, you know.” She smirks, rolling her eyes.

“He’s really not subtle,” Rex admits.

“Not even a little.” Ahsoka bounces one more time, then tilts her head in challenge. “Come on. No sense waiting.”

“You asked for it.” And Rex charges. He hopes Skywalker does talk to Kenobi – and that he asks, not accuses, when he does. Rex is already fighting a war on one front; he doesn’t need to play mediator to Jedi on top of it. He hopes Cody is right about Kenobi, that it’s just Skywalker’s pedestal keeping him quiet, because Kenobi does look like a perfect Jedi from where Rex is standing, even if maybe, every once in a while, he’s seen cracks in that careful display. He hopes Cody is wrong, and it doesn’t take dragging Kenobi, kicking and screaming, to get him to admit what Skywalker wants him to say. Mostly, Rex knows it will be a very long war, if Skywalker decides that his master is hiding things from him, because Kenobi is on the Council, and Skywalker is angry. So very angry.

But those are all problems for later days. Right now, Rex has a teething Togruta to handle, even if her pain has mostly been taken away, and he’s not about the end up like Jesse. As long as he focuses on the fight in front of him, he can hope that everything will turn out okay.