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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 month

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Blue and Fire Engine Red #3

TW: reference/depiction of school shooting (no onscreen deaths)

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Kara’s choice of bar proves to be the perfect opposite of the bright and open firehouse. Its dim ambience feels cozy, and the low light helps ground her, letting her release some of the bravado that fueled the sexually charged tit for tat she’s been firing towards Lena. She hopes tonight will be something more than that.

Of course, that doesn’t keep Kara’s insides from positively melting when Lena walks in the door. She looks positively pedestrian out of uniform, in a loose muscle tank layered over a snug tank top, and her jeans even snugger. But her gaze glints when it finds Kara in the small two person booth towards the back. Kara’s chosen a relatively isolated corner– not to hide, but rather from a desire to not share the woman who slides in across from her.

“Glad you found the place okay,” Kara greets, grinning.

“Yeah, you kind of forgot to mention that it was literally underground.” Lena wrinkles her nose when Kara’s grin widens puckishly. “Fink.”

Kara laughs. “Let’s just say it makes for a good conversation starter.”

An arch brow answers her. “So you bring girls here a lot then.”

“Uhhmm…”

Pink lips soon soften into a teasing grin. “Relax. I’m joking.”

Releasing a sigh, Kara lets her shoulders relax. Before she can say anything, a waiter appears to take their drink orders.

“The first of a few, I hope,” the girl says brightly. She turns towards Lena first. “Your usual, Lena?”

Green eyes twinkle at Kara in the low light, clearly enjoying the way Kara’s mouth falls open. She’s been had.

“That would be lovely,” Lena returns.

The server nods, then turns to Kara. “And what can I get you?”

Kara tries not to frown. “Rum and coke,” she grumbles dejectedly. “And onion rings.”

“Excellent choice! Your drinks will be out momentarily, but the rings will take a few minutes. Is that okay?”

Lena nods, giving the girl a winning smile. “That’s totally fine, Jess,” she purrs. “We’ll be here for a while.”

Jess moves away to another table, leaving them to themselves. Kara glares at Lena, who shrugs with an abashed grin.

“I served with Jess’ brother.”

Ears pricking with interest, Kara leans forward. “Bartender?”

Lena blinks, then lifts an eyebrow. “Army.”

Kara’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh! Wow, I didn’t even think… sorry. Medic?”

Lena nods with a hum.

“So if I talk to Jess’ brother, he’ll tell me about some daring rescue where you saved his life?”

Lena holds Kara’s light gaze for a long beat before looking down at her hands, folded on the table in front of her. “Not exactly.”

“Oh.” Kara’s stomach falls out from under her as she realizes the implication. Her cheeks start to burn. “Oh.”

There’s a long moment between them, and KAra is desperate to fill the silence.

“Thank you for your service—”

“Don’t,” Lena cuts in sharply. She takes a breath, only for it to huff out of her an instant later. “Can we talk about something else?”

Kara quickly nods. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry–”

Jess returns then, delivering their drinks. Lena’s quiet murmur of “thanks” confirms how uncomfortable she is, and Kara kicks herself again and again for having wrecked the mood. The date has ground to a halt, she knows, and it’s her fault. Even so, she clings to hope when Lena tries to salvage the conversation.

“What about you?” Have you always wanted to be a cop?”

“Hah, well…” Kara gives a nervous smile. The short answer is no, not always. Long answer is… kinda dark, honestly.”

To Kara’s surprise, Lena gives a dark chuckle. “Well aren’t we the pair,” she drawls.

Kara feels some warmth creep back into her extremities. “I don’t mind talking about it though, if you don’t mind hearing it. If you’d rather not–”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with sharing is fine with me. It must be important if it led to you becoming a hero of law and order, so– I’d love to hear it. But no pressure.”

With a nod, Kara considers where to start. “Have you ever heard of Midvale High?” When Lena shakes her head, she continues. “Ten years ago there was a school shooting. Twenty-three students died. I was one of the survivors.”

Lena watches her solemnly, and though she seems content to simply listen, Kara lifts her hand to stave off any condolences or sympathy that might be heading her way.

“It’s okay,” she promises. “I got all the therapy, and I got to a place I can comfortably talk about it. And you know, it was the usual story: kids are awful to one kid, kid gets depressed, then angry enough to do something about it. For us, that kid was Kenny Lee, and he was my best friend.”

That’s the most shocking part, for most people. Like she said, school shootings are tragically common, but rarely does anyone realize that the shooters might actually have a friend or two.

“Kenny was a good kid– quiet, smart… he just had the wrong combination of interests, or maybe he just had the wrong face. I don’t know. The others were just… cruel. And no one did anything about it. Until one day Kenny did.”

“Did he hurt you?” Lena asks quietly.

Kara shakes her head. “No. No, he… he started in the cafeteria. I usually eat with Kenny, but he missed the first half of the day, so I ate in the bathroom that day.” She wasn’t well-liked either, so eating alone in the cafeteria always gave her enough anxiety to avoid the place.

“But I heard it. The gunfire… all that cement and linoleum… it echoes, you know? I bunkered down in the bathroom as best I could. When the shooting paused, I heard the police sirens. I thought… I didn’t know if they’d find me where I was, so when I thought it was safe, I crept into the hallway.”

Her heart had stopped when she’d recognized the back of Kenny’s head at the end of the hall. She’d gasped, and he’d whirled, lifting the weapon in his hands. When locked eyes, the rage in Kenny’s gaze had shocked her, but a moment later it gave way to apathy.

“Kara….”

“NCPD, put the gun down!”

The sound of a new voice startled them both. The rifle Kenny held jerked, and Kara’s whole body flinched. But Kenny didn’t put the gun down.

“Y-you’re going to have to kill me,” he stuttered. Kara stared at him. He looked like her friend, but there were bloody footprints behind him, and his pants were spattered with blood and… brain matter, Kara realized in horror. Her best friend had stood over someone and shot them in the head.

Trembling, Kara’s gaze bounced between Kenny and the officer who had spoken. The officer was small, barely taller than Kara, but exuded calm authority even as Kenny hefted the gun higher against his shoulder. It was too heavy, Kara realized. He wasn’t used to the weight.

“We don’t want to do that,” the officer said. Her tone was cool and clear, traveling easily down the corridor. “My name’s Officer Grant. What’s yours?”

“K-Kenny,” he stammered. Sweat beaded and slid down his forehead.

Officer Grant nodded. There was a shuffle of footsteps as more officers moved into a formation behind her. Kenny’s finger curled around the trigger, but Officer Grant lifted her hand to both put him at ease and to tell her people to hold off.

“I’m sure you have reasons for what’s happened today,” she said. “And I’m sure they feel like good ones. But no one else needs to get hurt today.”

“Yes they do!” Kenny snapped back into his rage, his features warping back into an unfamiliar mask. “He– he wasn’t there! I have to– he deserves–” His gaze locked on Kara, imploring her to understand. “He wasn’t there, Kara!”

Kara’s heart stopped. She knew exactly who he meant. Jake. The worst of them all. Kenny wanted– he was hunting. But there’d been so much gunfire already– how many people did Kenny hurt instead? Her vision wobbled, and for the first time she realized she was crying.

“Everything feels so big right now,” Officer Grant continued. “I have a son, and his emotions get so big, he just doesn’t know what to do with it. This may have felt like the only way, Kenny, but it’s not.”

“B-but… I…” Kenny sounded small again.

“You still have decisions to make, Kenny. You’re making one now– you haven’t hurt Kara.”

Kenny looked at her, tears of his own streaming down his face. “She– she’s my–” He shook his head. “She doesn’t deserve to die.”

“There are a lot of other people who don’t deserve it either. A lot of families who don’t deserve to have dinner without their kids. Your parents don’t deserve to lose their son.”

His resolve wavers. He hitches the gun again, but from exhaustion rather than ire. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

“You can choose to put the gun down, Kenny,” Officer Grant pushed gently, sensing the ground she’s gained. To Kara’s surprise, the officer’s focus shifts to her for a pointed moment before returning to Kenny. “Kara doesn’t deserve to watch you die.”

Kara’s throat locked then. She stared at Kenny, desperate. “Please, Kenny,” she croaked. Kenny didn’t look at her. “Kenny, PLEASE!”

Her legs almost gave out when he looked at her, his despair palpable. Kara knew in that moment he’d planned to die that day; the alternative would be years in prison, maybe an entire lifetime. Kara didn’t know what she would choose either.

After a long, tense moment, Kenny exhaled shakily before taking a step back. He knelt. Leaning forward, he’d slid the rifle across the floor away from him before interlocking his fingers behind his head. Before Kara could blink, officers swarmed Kenny, locking his handcuffs on his wrists and confiscating the rifle.

Officer Grant, though, came to Kara.

“Are you okay, Kara?”

An avalanche of sobs came crashing out of Kara, and Officer Grant opened her arms and held Kara as she crumbled.

“Officer Grant talked Kenny down,” Kara continues, blinking her way back to the low-lit bar. Lena waits on the other side of the booth, her features patient and calm. Kara offers a small, quiet smile. “She talked him down, by talking to him. Not as a monster, but as a person. Her compassion won out over his anger, and it saved lives.”

Lena reaches across the table, clasping Kara’s in hers. Her thumbs rub soft circles against Kara’s skin, further grounding her back in the present. “She inspired you.”

Kara turns her hand, letting her palm settle fully in Lena’s. “She did. A few years later, she was the one who gave me my badge. Literally. Her signature is on my graduation certificate.”

“I bet she remembered you.”

“She did,” Kara confirms. Then she snorts, dispelling the somber mood. “Not that it won me any favors. In fact, I was pretty sure she hated me right up until she pinned my badge on my chest.”

Lena laughs. “Oh, man, I could spend days telling you about basic. The worst.”

Kara squeezes the hand in hers, giving a genuine smile. “I look forward to it. But first…”

She pauses when she sees Jess heading towards them with a basket of food in her hands.

“Onion rings!”

#supercorp #blue and fire engine red #tw school shooting reference #no onscreen death #a little angsty #but still a first date!#the important bits are there #plus world building!

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ariadnes-red-thread · 8 days

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The Last Word: Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: LOOKING TOO CLOSELY

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter [coming soon]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Mal settles into the 501st, but running into a familiar face in a clone army is the last thing she expects

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Recommended Listening: Looking Too Closely by Fink

A/N: Whoops, so maybe by "Coming Soon", I meant 14 months later. Sorry, I was crippled by self-hatred, perfection paralysis, and fears of my own incompetence. I'll try to be more cool writer girl next time. Thanks to everyone who connected with Mal and with my writing, and reached out to remind me that this might be a story worth telling. I love and adore you forever.

Ao3

Taglist

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Rex extended his hand out to Mal. For the briefest moment, she stared at his gauntlet, decorated in blue and white. The gap between them felt lightyears apart, and she was almost surprised at how quickly her hand closed the space. Taking his hand, she turned her eyes up to meet his and smiled, trying to reflect the Captain’s own warmth back at him. Mal gripped his hand firmly as she tried to shut out the hundreds of soldiers marching around the 501st’s hangar. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her discomfort. This was an opportunity, and she was grateful for it. It just felt odd, like putting on someone else’s clothes. The size was right, but the fit was all wrong.

Calling it the 501st’s hangar wasn’t entirely true. In a day or so, this battalion - her battalion, Mal quickly reminded herself - would ship out, off to a different star system, and another troop would take over this space for their leave. But for now, it swarmed with blue and white troopers. This system was designed for convenience and space-saving, but it gave Mal, and all transfers, an advantage. She already knew where everything was, from the medical supplies to the fresher. Still, after a briefing on protocols (all of which she learned a long time ago), Rex insisted on giving her a tour.

As he led her through the stacks and pointed out where the medical supplies were being kept, Mal had a feeling he was trying to distract her and that her feeble efforts to mask her unease hadn’t gone far with the blonde clone. She wasn't surprised.

Mal spent most of her life taking care of other people. It had taken a long time for her to get used to the way the Wolfpack watched over her. But she smiled, realizing that all the ways they had helped her made her softer now, more ready to let someone else in. So she tried to relax as she followed Rex, letting him point out where the extra gauze was stored, which fresher to use, and where to find the ration bars if she needed a meal.

Despite herself, Mal soon found herself feeling almost at home. Wolffe was right. Rex was the best. She watched as he would stop occasionally to check in with a passing soldier. He would slide an arm over their shoulder or rest a hand on the pauldron. Sometimes the check-in would be wordless, just a nod between the two men. Sometimes, Rex would mumble a bit of mando’a, and his brother would smile. Just as quickly, his attention would be back on her. There were a couple of moments when she thought she might have seen a shadow pass over his face as his eyes lingered on a soldier for a moment longer or as he scanned the crowd, looking for someone he couldn’t find. She might have imagined them, though, because, in the next breath, he would turn back to her with a charming grin and point out where someone named Jesse had hidden more snacks.

As Mal peered over his shoulder while he rifled through a med-pack and showed her the simple, familiar contents, the tension started to leave her shoulders, and a wave of ease settled onto her brow. There was comfort in the sameness. And comfort made Mal curious.

“So, who am I working with?” She turned her attention from the med-packs back to the throngs of troopers scattered across the platform.

Rex followed her gaze. With battlefield precision, he scanned the crowd, searching out his medic. The Captain spied his target in split seconds.

“Oi, Kix!” Rex’s voice boomed over the thunder of boots on durasteel.

At least two dozen men jumped to attention as their commanding officer’s call echoed off the soaring walls of the vast space. There was a clattering of dedlanite as a trooper dropped a container of DC15Ss. Across the bay, a clone with a medical sigil on his shoulder peeled off from a group of soldiers. A collective sigh went up through the troopers as they each realized it wasn’t them who was being summoned by their CO.

The medic, Kix, jogged across the hangar to where Mal and Rex were standing with only the lightest sense of urgency. Mal eyed the medic as he got closer. Crux was clinical and quiet, a man of science born from science. Their only heated battles (recently anyways) came when he felt like she was acting on her gut rather than evidence. Kix didn’t appear to be cut from the same cloth. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and she could see how brightly he smiled as he threw greetings and quips over his shoulder at brothers who whistled and cat-called as he ran by. His appearance was as bold as his crossing, with hair closely shaved into intricate lighting bolt patterns and an Aurebeseh tattoo on the left side of his scalp. When he got close enough, Mal could finally make out the writing, ‘The only good droid is a dead droid’. Mal couldn’t help the smile on her face. It was a sentiment she could get behind. The 501st medic came to a halt next to Rex.

“This is Kix.” Rex clapped the medic on the shoulder. “You’ll report to him. There’s the CMO Coric somewhere too but you’ll meet him later. Kix here is the head medic for Torrent Company and the most dedicated medic I’ve ever met. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Aw shucks, Captain.” Kix laughed at Rex. He shifted slightly under Rex’s grasp, just a little further from the Captain. “Nice to meet you…”

He held out a gauntleted hand as he waited for a name.

“Mal.”

“Nice to meet you, Mal.”

Rex watched for a moment before he began to shift from foot to foot. He wasn’t a man who sat still for long, Mal noticed. She wondered if he’d always been like that or if this came from being burdened with so many responsibilities. Wolffe was the same way, his attention jumping from task to task, somehow always simultaneously present and attentive, but still somewhere else.

“I’ve got a meeting with the generals.” Rex finally said as he clapped his gloved palms together. “Kix, you mind helpin’ her get settled?”

“On it, sir.” The medic replied, brightly.

“Thank you, Captain.” Mal turned to Rex. "I feel very settled in."

"Wolffe wouldn't have let me live it down otherwise." He said, waving away her gratitude.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go to the mess.” Kix motioned for Mal to follow him, already spinning on his heel. “You can meet some of the men.”

“Good luck.” Rex cheekily yelled after them.

“I can handle the 501st,” Mal called back over her shoulder, “I put up with the 104th for years.”

Rex laughed and nodded as though she won a hand of sabacc. With a small salute, he turned in the opposite direction and disappeared into the gears of the GAR.

“He’s just being dramatic.” Kix rolled his eyes as Mal caught up to him. “The boys are all good fun.”

She fell into step beside the clone as Kix started to make his way down the long durasteel hallway to the mess. Mal lost track of time while Rex was showing her around, but it must have been getting close to dinner because most of the other clones were starting to head in the same direction.

“You get the full tour?” Kix raised an eyebrow as he flashed a knowing eyebrow.

“Captain Rex was very thorough,” Mal smiled back, instantly at ease with the small gift of an inside joke.

Mal watched the medic out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He nodded to every soldier that passed, but the ones with decorated armor got a verbal greeting or a pat on the shoulder.

“How long have you been with the 501st?” Mal asked, curious about her new CO.

It had taken a long time for her and Crux to warm up to each other. They started at the same time, joining the decimated 104th as it was rebuilding. Crux wasn’t thrilled to be serving with a civilian, and Mal had her own grudge, which was no fault of Crux’s. She knew it was irrational to dislike him for not being Tye, but she couldn’t help it. Still, once they stopped yelling at each other, they found that they worked well together. Crux’s strength was in his analysis and his textbook memory. Mal’s came from her quick thinking, calm under pressure, and her well-trained gut instincts. They came at problems from different routes, but almost always ended up at the same answer. Another ache passed through her as she realized their last mission working together would be just that. For now anyways, she tried to reassure herself.

“Just after Teth. Got assigned to Rex after that disaster, and he’s been grumpy about it ever since.” Kix flashed a cheeky smile at Captain Rex’s expense. “I’ll be honest, this is the first time we’ve had a civilian medic.”

Mal shrugged. It wasn’t surprising. There weren’t many civilians in the GAR, and even fewer were medics. The government official that helped her at the recruitment office had tried to talk her out of signing up in at least fifteen different ways as she was filling out the dataforms.

“How about you?” Kix asked, “How long have you been with the 104th?”

“I joined after Abregato,” Mal answered. It wasn’t a lie.

“Hmm, I remember that one.” Kix frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved palm. “I helped take care of Wolffe and the other two when they got back. Commander Tano still talks about it sometimes. Rough stuff. Glad that was before your time.”

Mal had heard a lot about Commander Tano, and even seen her from a distance on the Venator a few times. The Togruta Jedi padawan was hard to miss and liked to visit General Plo when she could. Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe spoke about her in hushed, grateful tones. Mal supposed that she did too. It wasn’t surprising, given that the whole of the 104th would have been wiped out if not for Commander Tano. Mal knew exactly to whom she owed her friends’ lives.

“You must have started with Crux, then.”

Mal looked back at the clone to find him watching her with a glance that was trying to appear more casual than it was. He must have seen something in her face change at the mention of Abregado. The clones in the 501st were good at distraction, Mal was starting to notice, but she was grateful for the change in subject.

“You know Crux?” Mal tried to match the Kix’s bright tone.

“Yeah, we went through medic training together,” Kix said. “Crux and I shipped out after Geonosis. Both the 501st and the 104th had hard times of it. Trained with Tye, the first CMO for the 104th, too, but he would have been before your time.”

Mal’s spine stiffened at his name.

A flash of a smile.

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Mal agreed, even as her heart clenched. “Before my time.”

“Heya, Kix.”

A clone with a large Republic cog in the middle of his helmet fell into step beside Kix. He elbowed his friend as his helmet tilted towards Mal. She could feel his eyes as they looked her up and down before he spied the medical sigil on the shoulder of her jumpsuit.

“Rex finally get someone to replace you?” The clone elbowed Kix again.

“You’d be dead without me,” Kix replied without missing a beat. “Mal, meet Jesse.”

“Hi!” Even through the modulator, the man’s greeting was warm.

The clone named Jesse stripped his helmet from his head. He tucked it under his arm as he flashed Mal a sideways smile. The cog that had decorated his helmet matched a tattoo that covered most of the upper half of his face, spanning from just under his left eye to the top of his clean-shaven head. His smile stretched across his face, bringing a glint to his eyes and wrinkling the edge of the cog.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal couldn’t help but smile back. “Nice tattoo.”

“You like it? I lost a game of sabacc to Hardcase, but I’ve grown attached.” Jesse ran a hand over his clean scalp as he grinned a little wider. “Spotchka may have been involved.”

“It suits you.”

It did. The clone had an animated face, his expression written all over it, and the tattoo emphasized every look. Mal imagined he wasn’t very good at sabacc.

“I like her.” Jesse turned to Kix with an air of grievance. “You never compliment me.”

“She doesn’t know you yet.” Kix chuckled.

“You’re just mad you’re not the prettiest medic in the 501st anymore.” Jesse snapped back.

Mal winced at the comment. She had a feeling Jesse was just kidding and that the joke was more at Kix’s expense than hers, but it was irritating all the same. Mal had never met a clone who thought less of her expertise because she was a woman. Still, there were plenty of civilian mechanics and medics who did. Any other day, the comment would probably have rolled off her. Instead, Mal thought of the clone from the night before. Would he think less of her if she ever had to treat him? Would he trust her? She quickly pushed that thought aside. No point in considering it. In an army of a billion clones, that wasn’t something she would ever have to worry about.

“Hard to compete with Kix.” Mal quickly spoke.

Just like that, the worry was gone, and Jesse was reaching around Kix to slap her on the back.

“I like you,” He let out a belly laugh as he repeated his approval.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret introducing you two already.” Kix rolled his eyes before they suddenly flashed.

Mal followed his look down the hallway. Just ahead, two troopers walked with their helmets pressed close together like they were strategizing. One was dressed in clone trooper armor, and the other wore the unmistakable kit of an ARC trooper. His kama swayed around his hips as he walked, arm over the shoulder of the other trooper. They seemed to catch Kix’s attention.

“Now, these two, you definitely need to know. Gotta watch them closely.” Kix spoke, his voice raised and playful. “They spend more time in the medbay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

They stopped and turned at Kix’s words, the sound of mocking modulated laughter coming from their helmets. Kix and Jesse paused with them, forming a small crowd in the busy hallway, like rocks in a river.

“This is Mal, our new medic from the 104th.” Kix gestured.

The clone troopers pulled their buckets from their heads. The first man smiled sweetly, a contrast to the single teardrop that decorated the lower lid of his left eye. Mal barely registered him, though. She was too busy gaping at his friend. The second man flashed a knowing, familiar grin. Even without the temple tattoo, Mal would have recognized him anywhere.

Fives.

The first thing Fives saw as he rounded the corner into the mess hall was Jesse’s face. His vod immediately looked annoyed and that put an extra spring in Fives’ step. Nothing like the sheer pleasure of irritating Jesse without even having to put in the effort.

“Ah osik, I bet Tup 5 credits you’d miss roll call.” The lieutenant frowned at Fives over two steaming paper cups of caf.

“Come on, Jess.” Fives grinned at his older brother. “You know me better than that.”

Fives picked up the two cups before he turned, seamlessly slipping the drinks out from under his vod's nose. Jesse leapt up and yelped but, short of leaping over the table, there was no stopping Fives.

He kept moving down the hall, practically gliding, as Jesse’s swears faded behind him. He hummed, sipping on the black caf that Jesse had poured for himself, and savoring each jolt to his taste buds. Fives meandered his way through the maze of the base, nodding to brothers that greeted him. Faces, armor, and haircuts were all distinct. He recognized them all but most of the names escaped him. It was becoming harder and harder to keep track. There were so many, and they came and went all too quickly. It made him feel old in a way that an eleven year old probably shouldn’t. Was it eleven? Or was it twelve now?, he wondered. Who could keep track of decanting days anymore? That was Echo’s job and, without his twin, he wasn’t ever in the celebrating mood. Finally, Fives slipped into one of the main supply rooms, where he paused before a large supply shelf. It was pressed up against the durasteel and tucked in the back of the dark storage space.

“Hey, Tup. You there?” Fives called.

“Roger, roger.” Tup called back.

The long-haired clone popped his head over the edge of the fourth shelf, about eight feet off of the floor. He perched there for a moment, chin resting on his hand as he smiled down at Fives. Fives grinned back up at his vod. Tup found the empty shelf the first day after the Umbara deployment, and he dragged a mattress up there to turn it into a getaway. Fives didn’t ask why he wanted one and Tup didn’t volunteer the information. Instead, Fives just helped him redirect several blankets and a mattress from shipping to an “ARC training mission” and, in a comical heist that involved General Skywalker nearly catching them, assisted Tup in smuggling the large bedding into the supply room.

“So, how was the night, vod?” Tup winked.

“A gentleman never tells,” Fives smirked up at his brother.

“Well, luckily, you’ve never been a gentleman.” Tup laughed as he swung down from the shelf, landing gracefully beside Fives.

“Hey! I brought you caf and everything.” Fives held out the second cup to Tup, who took it without hesitation.

“Ah yes, three creams. Just how Kix takes it.” Tup chortled as he sipped on the warm liquid.

Fives smiled back at the younger clone. Losing Echo left a hole in his heart that he knew would never be filled, and it had been a long time since he had felt a connection with one of his brothers like that. Tup was different though. He reminded him of Echo in some ways. He was quietly smart. A little nerdy. But he could still merk a Seppie in seconds and without hesitation. He was clever, more clever than most people realized. Fives was still impressed with the plan Tup came up with to capture General Krell. While he knew he could never replace his twin and he wasn’t looking to try, he felt a little more whole lately when Tup was around.

“Now, come on vod.” Tup threw his other arm around Fives, “Tell me about the night.”

He filled Tup in on a few of the details while they made the walk to roll-call. He skipped the feeling that she had given him when he made her laugh or the way he wished someone would bottle up her scent. Instead, he talked about the other stuff, like how great her tits were and how hot the sex had been. Tup dutifully listened to all of it with a small smile on his face.

They made it to roll-call right on time. Jesse glared at Fives over a fresh cup of caf. Fives gave his fuming vod a wave just as Rex called them to attention. The Captain marched down the line, inspecting his soldiers. He paused in front of Fives.

“Nice to see you made it back,” Rex muttered, cocking an eyebrow at the ARC.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about, Sir,” Fives smirked at his old friend.

Rex let out a familiar sigh of exasperation as he shook his head and continued back down the line.

It was Fives' least favorite kind of day. Drills, strategy meetings, and more drills. The drills drove him crazy. It was all pretend. There was no room to be creative or stakes to make the shineys take it seriously. It seemed like they were getting sloppier and sloppier, and nothing he said would get through to them until the blaster fire was real. The strategy meetings weren’t bad, but it was all a lot of talk and pretend. He knew it was important. Fives got that. But there was never a day that he didn’t want to be out there, in the fight, instead of planetside doing drills.

“We’re gonna have to reconsider how we’re using our resources holding Felucia,” Tup was still thinking about their last meeting as the day wound down and they made their way to the mess. Fives was only half-listening, having had his fill of strategy talk for the day, but Tup kept going, his enthusiasm obvious though his modulator. “Focusing on hyperspace lanes instead of the planet itself could help us protect the whole system. We keep fighting these high-cost, low reward battles on the planet’s surface.”

“S’not a bad idea.” Fives heard enough that he looked his vod up and down.

“It’s a great idea.” Tup looked back at him and Fives knew, even through the helmet, exactly the teasing look his vod was giving him. “Don’t you run to Rex and steal it.”

Fives snorted and wrapped an arm around Tup’s shoulders.

“I would never dream-” Fives started to protest before a voice rose up behind them.

“… these two, you definitely need to know. They spend more time in the med bay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

Fives barked out a laugh. Tup joined him as he tilted his helmet at Fives. He rolled his eyes at Tup and knew, in the same way that Tup knew what expression he was making; Tup was rolling his eyes too. They paused their walk and turned towards Kix's voice.

He was glad he had his helmet on. Standing there, walking with his vode, was the woman from this morning. Her form was now hidden behind a civilian medic jumpsuit, and her long red curls were pulled back away from her face, tied back into a low bun, but he knew her in moments.

He knew the light in her eyes as she laughed at Kix’s words. He recognized the smile that danced on those soft lips. He knew the smattering of freckles he could map out on her nose and her cheeks. He knew the way her skin would feel if he were to dig his fingers into those hips, barely hidden by the bulky jumpsuit. Maker, he knew the way she smelled still and could taste it in the air. Or maybe that was just him and the way she lingered on his skin.

Pull it together, Fives. He warned himself. His heart wouldn’t slow, though. He couldn’t believe his luck as he took in the blue markings on her jumpsuit. She was here, and she was theirs.

“This is Mal, our new civilian medic transfer from the 104th.”

Fives barely heard Kix as he stripped the bucket from his head. He waited for Mal to squeal, to laugh, for the joy to spark in her eyes like it had last night.

“This is Tup.” His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as Kix droned on, “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added loudly.

Fives ignored Jesse as he pressed his lips together in a knowing smile. She knows, you di’kut, he wanted to shout, but Mal spoke first.

“Nice to meet you.”

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