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therisingdarkness · 11 months

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5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, my adopted son, and for Odessa, who deserves him XD (it’s like 30 pages, i’m so sorry lmfao)

Also figured I should link the other parts (also guess i should mention there’s some adult mentionings, so if you’re underage, i’m not your mom but don’t get caught lmao)

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

As luck would have it, Ghoul’s next deployment sent him back to Ryloth, right into the waiting arms of Cham Syndulla and Captain Howzer, who were only too happy to explain exactly what was expected of him for the mission at hand; it was nothing he hadn’t done before, nothing that he shouldn’t have had any trouble with. And he didn’t. He was fine. Performance above reproach despite his grumbling and scowling, winning him Syndulla’s unneeded and unwanted praise upon his return.

It used to make him sick, the way his superiors commended him to his face after another successful mission—it still did, but now he was forced to endure their adulation with her in the back of his mind, and the things she had told him. Would they sing songs about this victory, small as it was? Would they remember his name like she had? Did they already speak it among themselves in lilting whispers when he wasn’t around? When he took his leave, would they look to the stars and remember what he had done?

He wasn’t distracted.

He couldn’t afford to be.

But sometimes…sometimes out of the corner of his eye he would catch a glimpse of green lekku and he would find himself turning his head out of curiosity, despite knowing it couldn’t possibly be the little bartender on Coruscant.

Sometimes he would hear bright laughter and he’d freeze in place.

He caught snippets of conversation in Basic, the accent familiar in a way that was almost a relief, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

If Howzer and Syndulla suspected anything, neither made mention of it; for that, Ghoul was grateful. He didn’t know what lie he’d have to make up on the spot to cover for any inconsistencies in his performance, but it’d have to be a good one to survive Syndulla’s scrutiny. The head of the Twi’lek rebellion was one of the very few figures Ghoul felt he could respect—unlike the leaders of the Republic, Syndulla put himself on the front lines of nearly every skirmish, leading by example and throwing himself head first into harm’s way. He fought for Ryloth, for his people, in a way that determined exactly how willing Ghoul was to risk his own life for the mission assigned to him.

Captain Howzer, on the other hand, was just a standard clone but he followed Syndulla’s lead with an eagerness that bordered on sycophantic. He was a good soldier, obedient like he was supposed to be, and Ghoul hated him for it. Thankfully, he outranked Howzer and therefore didn’t have to answer to him. All transmissions were heavily encoded and Ghoul didn’t engage in smalltalk outside of the mission itself so it was easy to isolate himself until the time came to return to Coruscant.

A solid sixty rotations had passed, during which time he had gathered enough intel to give the Twi’lek rebellion the advantage it needed to push back against the Separatist forces; with luck they’d be able to secure the win they so desperately needed. Ghoul didn’t care either way—he wouldn’t be there to see it. To the clones stationed on Ryloth long term he imagined it would mean more for their morale…but they were idiots in the same vein Howzer was, softhearted and too quick to give too much of themselves for a cause that wasn’t their own.

Orders are orders, Ghoul thought bitterly to himself as he checked his packs over one last time. The transport ship taking him back to Coruscant was nearing its departure; he’d be sharing too small a space with too many wounded troopers, many of whom probably wouldn’t survive triage. Stabilizing them didn’t mean anything if they were sent back to Kamino for ‘reevaluation’. It was a death sentence either way and Ghoul wasn’t looking forward to fighting off the memories that were sure to be dredged by during the trip. He could close his eyes and remove his hearing aids, but the smell…the smell of death wasn’t something that could be ignored.

“Commander!”

Ghoul groaned and ran a hand down the right side of his face, narrowly avoiding the cygarette he had been trying to savor in spite of the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace to himself, not on this planet.

“Howzer,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation as the captain jogged up to greet him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to see you off, Sir,” Howzer said brightly, saluting with an enthusiasm that set Ghoul’s teeth on edge.

“Don’t need it,” he muttered. “You got better things to do, surely.”

“Not right now, thanks to you. That intel you procured put us ahead of our original plans by months. We’ll be able to launch an effective counterstrike against those clankers within the week.”

Ghoul snorted. The rebellion couldn’t afford to lower its guard at their current standpoint. The position they had held onto by tooth and nail for the past sixty rotations still put them at the disadvantage; all it would take was one full-scale assault from the enemy and they’d be wiped out. It had been one of the first things Ghoul had pointed out upon his arrival, but his advice had gone unheeded. It didn’t matter—in an hour he’d wash his hands of Ryloth and all five of its moons. As soon as he boarded the transport, it wouldn’t be his problem any longer.

“As long as you don’t kark it up,” Ghoul said as he tightened the straps on his pack, further compressing his extra gear. “Should be a sight t’ see…if you live through it.”

He looked up in time to see Howzer’s optimistic expression falter, and it sent something sick and pleasurable racing through his veins. That’s right, the feeling seemed to say, don’t get complacent. Don’t get cocky.

Unfortunately, ‘giving up’ wasn’t one of the qualities that had gotten Howzer promoted to Captain. He fixed his expression into something more neutral and bent at the waist to haul one of Ghoul’s bags over his shoulder, grunting with effort. If he thought he was helping, he was dead wrong, and Ghoul immediately jumped to his feet with a growl, getting in Howzer’s way and shoving at his shoulder.

“Drop it,” he ordered, exhaling around his cyg in a cloud of smoke, sending it straight into the captain's face and watching his eyes water.

“I’m just trying to help,” Howzer said, bewildered by Ghoul’s sudden aggression.

“Didn’t ask for it,” Ghoul said as he grabbed the strap of his bag out of the captain’s hands. “I don’t need help. I do things on my own.”

“Howzer! Kassurra!” came a call from halfway across the landing platform; a couple of Twi’leks waved enthusiastically, a greeting which Howzer returned like Ghoul wasn’t even there.

“Kass!” he called back. “Kei’nata ni!”

Of course he knew Ryl. He was such a good clone, nearly perfect in every way, from the ease with which he had tried to integrate with the people and the culture, to the way he treated Syndulla with the same respect usually reserved for Republic Admirals. Even his accent was affected with the tinge of Ryl dialect. Ghoul hated him more for what he represented. The GAR didn’t have need for recruitment posters, but if it did, Howzer would have been plastered all over them.

Kiss-ass, Ghoul thought resentfully.

Howzer dropped his arm back down to his side and looked over at the other two bags sitting at Ghoul’s feet as though contemplating making another go for it; he seemed to think better of it though and stood rooted in place.

“It’s not so bad here, you know,” he said, still trying to broker…something between them, some illusion of brotherhood that Ghoul wanted no part in. “Once you get used to the heat and the humidity, you start to see the beauty of the land.”

He doubted it. Ryloth was many things, but ‘beautiful’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Too many times he had felt like he was being steamed alive in his armor, sweat soaking through his blacks as he stalked through the thick, unforgiving jungles, avoiding the indigenous and carnivorous wildlife that had driven Twi’leks to live in caves for their own safety. If Howzer thought differently, then he needed to get himself checked out by medical for brain damage brought on by heatstroke.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul growled.

“It’s not just deserts and jungle,” Howzer continued, nonplussed. “If you make it past the Jixuan there’s these mountains—”

“Listen,” Ghoul snapped, losing his patience, “Whatever it is you’re trying to do…just stop. It’s embarrassing how much you think I give a damn.”

Howzer blinked, somehow managing to piss him off even more. There was something about him that was…different, even for a clone. His eyes were almost too big, his face a little too symmetrical. There was no other word for it, he was pretty. If any one of them could be considered ‘designer’, then it’d have to be Howzer; the longnecks must’ve slipped something a little extra into his slurry while he marinated, for him to turn out the way he had.

While not strictly his fault, Ghoul took offense to it nonetheless.

“Is there anything else you want to bother me about, or can I go?” he asked.

“Wow,” Howzer grumbled. “I had heard from Wolffe that you were a little standoffish, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Ghoul froze.

Wolffe was talking? About him?

He dropped his bag onto the pile with the others and fixed his glare on Howzer, who stood there with a look on his face that said he wasn’t all that aware of the danger he was currently in.

“Oh yeah?” Ghoul said in a rough whisper. “And what else did Wolffe say about me?”

To his credit, Howzer didn’t back down.

“He said not to expect anything from you but the bare minimum—just the mission, nothing more.”

I’m going to kill him.

“You should have listened,” Ghoul spat, getting close and jabbing a finger against Howzer’s chestplate. “I got sent here against my will, to do the job that you failed to do. That’s it. I don’t care about you or anyone else on this rock. The only thing I’m interested in is making it back to base and forgetting I was ever here.”

“You talk real big for someone who just risked his life to ensure the Twi’leks have a chance to make it through this war,” Howzer said, his amber eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. He held his fist tight at his side and Ghoul wished, wished he’d make a move. Maybe he could get lucky and bleed some of his stress out before the trip back, and give Howzer a few little reminders why he should keep minding his own karking business.

“Like I said,” Ghoul hissed, “I didn’t ask for this assignment. I was just sent here to clean up after you.”

“We’ve done everything we could,” Howzer said, drawing himself up indignantly. “You were our last resort before the Council was going to send the Jedi.”

“The Jedi,” Ghoul echoed mockingly. He picked the cyg from his mouth and flicked it at Howzer, watching as it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the ground. “There’s an idea. Why don’t you call them next time? I’m sure they’ll solve all your problems for you.”

“You hate them.”

“Is stating the obvious the only thing you’re good at?”

“Is it because of that?” Howzer asked, tapping his own jaw. He had a scar there, freshly formed and still pink at the edges where the new skin grew on the torn edges of the wound, the shape of which indicated shrapnel as the most likely culprit. Ghoul stared, black rage climbing the ladder of his ribs until he felt that he could reach out, put his hands around Howzer’s neck and squeeze until he stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped looking at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Howzer continued, “but I heard rumors you were the only survivor of the 331st. Their last campaign…it was on Toydaria, wasn’t it?"

Ghoul inhaled sharply. Ryloth’s air was warm, moist, but nothing compared to Toydaria, where every breath had felt like they were drowning, even through the advanced air filtration of their helmets. He had tried not to think about how similar the two climates actually were ever since his arrival.

“Weren’t Jedi part of that battle?”

For all the good they’d been. He still couldn’t bear the sound of lightsabers and part of his special conditions for continued duty included keeping him as far from Jedi as possible, a condition the GAR had only been able to fulfill by assigning him solo missions. It was probably the only thing they’d done right.

“What happened?” Howzer pressed, completely incognizant of the distress every single one of his words afflicted.

“Shut up,” Ghoul managed to hiss. “Just…shut the hell up.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about—he didn’t have any right to talk about it.

No one did.

For a moment it seemed like Howzer was going to prove himself the biggest idiot in all the GAR and keep pressing buttons. He looked like he wanted to, though for the life of him Ghoul couldn’t figure out why.

What could he possibly gain from opening old wounds and sticking his fingers into them, like it was his business to do so? Only Wolffe knew the details of that fateful campaign, having pieced together events from the reports submitted by the Jedi Knight who had also survived. The rest he had pulled out of Ghoul himself, bleeding him so slowly with quiet questions and gentle touches that had only made recounting more difficult.

He didn’t want to remember.

If there had been a way for him to forget, some experimental procedure he could have undergone that would have sucked the memories from his brain, he would have. Anything was better than knowing what he now knew.

And Howzer…Howzer didn’t have any claim to it.

“Sorry,” the captain said, with the audacity of someone who was sorry but didn’t understand why. “It’s just…I’ve been trying to figure out what’s made you so detached; you’re a good soldier, I can see that much, but you don’t…you don’t act like the rest of us."

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ghoul asked, feeling like he had just run half a dozen laps around the landing pad for the way his heart thrummed in his chest. He wanted Howzer to shut up, wanted him to swallow his karking tongue, and there was nothing he could do about it because there were two many eyes around, too many clones and too many Twi'lek, and Ghoul was willing to bet they all liked Howzer better than they liked him.

Howzer shrugged.

“I’ve never met a brother who was…so cold.”

There it was.

If he could have laughed normally, he would have. Of all the ridiculous complaints lodged against him, being cold was the least of them. It didn’t matter how he treated his ‘brothers’, as long as they knew to stay out of his way and give him a wide berth. That was how he preferred things and, up until now, it hadn’t been a problem. But he could tell Howzer was young, a second gen clone at least; he didn’t understand war yet, not in the way Ghoul did.

“It’s got nothin’ to do with you,” Ghoul said, fighting back the urge to reach out and slap him around a bit for being a nosey little idiot. “I’m like this with everyone. Ask Wolffe.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Howzer hurried to say. Off in the distance an announcement sounded over loudspeaker, signaling boarding for the transport leaving for Coruscant. “I mean, the people here, on Ryloth…they care. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but they’re appreciative of our help.”

We are not blind to their sacrifice.

He had tried not to think too much about her, the Twi’lek bartender, but being surrounded by her people, on her planet, made it difficult. Not only were there reminders of her everywhere he looked, but now Howzer’s words echoed a sentiment she had tried to instill in him the last time they spoke. His skin prickled with the feeling of being cornered, like he was being pressured into admitting to something he didn’t believe in.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul said, exasperated and at the end of his rope for how much more he could tolerate. “They’re only grateful because they’re desperate. They’d be licking the boots of anyone who showed up to help.”

“That’s not true,” Howzer frowned. “They’ve been nothing but accepting.”

“Tch. Don’t kid yourself. No matter what you do, no matter how many battles you manage to scrape together, you’re never going to be accepted by them. You’re not one of them.”

He struck a nerve. He could tell almost immediately from the way Howzer’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. Ghoul watched the scar on his cheek stretch and contract with the movement and wondered if there was a limit to how much abuse Howzer was willing to take before he snapped. But maybe it wasn’t the insults thrown his way that bothered him so much.

“With all due respect,” Howzer said, drawing himself up and standing back at attention, “You’re wrong, Commander. You’re wrong about the Twi’leks and you’re wrong about me.”

“Oh am I?”

“You are. I wasn’t assigned here against my will. I requested to be stationed on Ryloth. The Siege of Lessu was my first campaign before I made Captain—a complete and utter loss, by the way, so yeah, I’m aware you’ve had to clean up after us. But you know something?”

He took a deep breath, like he was getting something off his chest that had been weighing on him for some time, and Ghoul wished that he could be anywhere else at the moment.

“Syndulla and his people got us out of there. They knew this planet better than we did, knew how to utilize the cave systems and escape routes that have existed for thousands of years. They refused to leave my unit behind even though we were slowing them down. At the end of the day, after we made it to safety? They helped us mourn the dead, showed us how they burn their bodies to release their spirits back to the mother goddess, Kika'lekki. They shared with us everything they had, even when they had so little to begin with. We were nothing to them, nobodies, but they took us in and showed us kindness that I’ve never known before. So…yeah. I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter. Ryma gesu'tak allesh, Commander. Have a safe flight back to Coruscant.”

Howzer executed the tightest about face Ghoul had ever seen and strode away, leaving him alone on the platform with three packs filled to bursting with heavy, non-standard equipment and no one to help carry it all onboard. It was the way Ghoul preferred things to be; he didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, he didn’t need help, and he definitely didn’t want attention.

The departure announcement sounded again, nearing its final call for boarding. Ghoul slung one of his packs over his shoulder and grabbed the others one in each hand. His legs moved like he was on autopilot, carrying him across the landing pad until he was safely strapped in to a seat, crushed between a small porthole and two other clones who had already decided to take advantage of the several hours they were going to spend in hypersapce to get some sleep. They leaned against one another, heads touching and cradling their helmets in their laps as they stretched their legs out over a crate in front of them.

Every last centimeter of space was taken up by either bodies or supplies. There were more injured clones than not, but Ghoul wasn’t focused on them. He didn’t even seem to notice the sounds of their moans as the pain meds wore off, or the scent of dried blood permeating the cabin space. He barely noticed the gentle beeping of medical equipment hooked up to the worst of them. The only thing playing through his mind was the way Howzer had looked at him while delivering his final unwanted speech…and the little green Twi’lek bartender back on Coruscant.

It was uncanny how similar their words sounded when he played them back in his mind.

Out the porthole he watched as Ryloth got smaller and smaller, until they made the jump to hyperspace. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but ended up not having much of a choice as he made himself as comfortable as he could, leaning against the cold hull with his arms crossed over his chest. His dreams were scattered, disjointed and unintelligible except for the one that woke him up gasping for air and looking around to see where the hell he was; he didn’t sleep again after that, and by the time they finally landed on Coruscant, he had all but forgotten what the dream had been about.

Mandatory debriefing lasted only two days, with one day being fully given over for making his report to higher-ups. Ghoul had to grit his teeth to get through the whole thing and somehow managed not to lose his tenuous grasp on his sanity when one of the Senators started asking idiotic questions about the mission. He didn’t know the name of the Jedi general who came to his rescue and took over fielding questions, but he didn’t care. He was just about done with it all. He wanted a smoke…and a drink.

He…he realized he wanted to go to 79s.

For a drink, he told himself. Not to see her, though he doubted she cared after the last time they parted ways. His last memories of her were the way she had moved across the stage at Rollo’s, flexible and lithe, wearing clothes that left so very little to the imagination. He had watched her dance through three different songs, until he forced himself to leave because he could no longer ignore the tightness in his pants. He couldn’t even remember making it back to the barracks, only that he had headed straight to the showers and spent all of his time allotment in one of the corner stalls, blasting cold water against his head and back as he fisted his cock until he came hard enough to make his knees buckle.

He was so sure she wouldn’t want to see him again after that night, positive that she had never expected him to stand there like his boots had sunk through the floor of that dingy club and watch her dance, and so he had avoided 79s like the plague until his assignment to Ryloth. He didn’t want to admit to any guilt…but he had thought about the way she had swung herself around the poles so often he was almost certain he had permanently burned the image of her into the backs of his eyelids.

And now there he stood, outside of 79s and feeling like the same kind of pathetic loser he had called Howzer for daring to express a simple desire for acceptance among a people he didn’t belong to.

He didn’t even know if she was working today.

You’re not gonna find out by standing out here, Ghoul told himself, before shoving his way inside. It was still too early to be crowded, but several clones had already gathered in pockets, some lounging around at tables with their kits half-on, half-off while others actually had time to change into their dress uniforms. Ghoul stood there at the entrance in his dark armor, helmet once again tucked under his arm as he scanned the bar, looking for—

Yes. There she was, serving drinks to a couple of grizzled, first-gen commanders. He didn’t know how he had ever mistaken the muted, blanched greens of the Twi’leks on Ryloth for her; it felt like an insult to how vibrant her skin glowed beneath the neon lights above the bar. He watched her for a moment, the cheerful way she greeted the other clones and spoke to them, leaning over the counter to better understand them when they asked a question too low for her to hear. She came away laughing, a little flush on her cheeks that made Ghoul feel like he needed to break something before she finally noticed him standing by the door.

It had to be his imagination that made the blush on her cheeks spread to her lekku, just a trick of the lights. She smiled brightly in his direction and waved before turning back to the bar to grab a bottle off the top shelf. Ghoul steeled himself and made his way to the seat at the end of the counter, closest to the wall—the seat that, somewhere down the line he had come to think of as his seat.

“Ghoul,” the Twi’lek said warmly as he sat down and she slid him a small glass, “it is so good to be seeing you again! It has been a long time since last we met…I wondered where you had gone.”

Ghoul picked up the glass and sniffed at the liquid within. Just as he thought: Catsblood.

“Just another mission,” he said, trying to push down the overwhelming sensation of relief that flooded his entire body. He didn’t know why, but this felt a bit like…like coming home. He didn’t try to think about how it was the first time since Toydaria that he had bothered stepping foot into 79s without either Wolffe or Fox present, or the fact that he didn’t feel burdened to answer her innocent question with anything other than the truth. He could look at her now without feeling the burn of annoyance he usually felt when dealing with civvies.

“Anything you are allowed to talk about?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her lekku sported a striped pattern that he hadn’t seen on any other Twi’lek he had encountered on Ryloth; the way the stripes fell against her forehead almost reminded him of the way some people wore their hair with bangs.

“It’s classified,” he said, wondering what she’d say if she knew he had been to her home planet.

“That figures,” she sighed, still smiling. She smiled at everyone, but for some reason when she aimed it at him…it felt more personal. “Most of the interesting missions always are. I will have to use my imagination then, to come up with a good story for where you have been these past two months.”

Months. Yeah, it’d been about that and some change since he had last seen her. Nothing about her or the bar was different—still the same old 79s, with its gaudy decor, cheap drinks, and sticky floors, still the same cheerful bartender. Ghoul took a sip and found the Catsblood warm, the way he liked it, because too much ice messed with his prosthetics, made some of the internal synth-metal pieces contract painfully. She had remembered, the same way she remembered his name.

Ghoul didn’t know how to verbalize the way it made him feel. It was such a small detail, such a pitiful thing to get excited about, but when he knew he could sit at the bar, not even look at a menu, and she’d serve him anyway? It felt like for the first time in his life, his opinions mattered. That he was someone outside of the armor.

It made him feel like she saw him as…a real person.

The image of Howzer arose in his thoughts, the way he smiled and acted so friendly all the time, especially with the members of the Twi’lek rebellion, and Ghoul remembered Howzer’s parting words to him—“I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter.”

Was it something like this? Was it the same way he felt just sitting in a bar and not caring who was staring at him, because he could get a drink without asking for it and the bartender smiled at him like she was happy to see him, even though it had been two months since the last time, and even though there were other clones, friendlier than him who made her laugh and blush? Ghoul wondered what she might think of Howzer, with his candid expressions and his perfect smile, his affable nature and the easy way he seemed to have picked up her language. He bet Howzer would never call her stupid, or insult her people to her face.

Ghoul winced at the memory and quickly downed half his drink, holding it between his synthetic cheeks just long enough to feel the comforting burn spread across the roof of his mouth.

“You, uh…been doin’ alright?” he asked haltingly, trying to remember what it felt like to make smalltalk with someone he wasn’t actively trying to get away from.

“It is the same as ever,” the Twi’lek replied, leaning over the counter and resting on her elbows. “When I am not working or volunteering I am sleeping; always those three things, I think. I am lucky if I find time to read.”

“What do you read?” Ghoul asked.

“Many things, but I enjoy an escape every now and then—would you believe I love the mystery stories the best?”

“No,” he said, “I wouldn't have guessed.”

She was close enough that he could move his arm and they’d be touching. She’d never gotten so far into his personal space before, and he hadn’t seen her do this with the other clones who made her laugh. Maybe she treated all of her customers the same whenever he wasn’t around, though.

“What about…the other place?” Ghoul asked, trying to think of things to say. “You still work there?”

“Yes, but not so loud!” she whispered, holding up a finger to her lips. No one could have possibly heard, but she looked worried all the same. Maybe it was a mistake to bring that up so immediately; she might think it was the only thing he had thought about the entire time he had been gone.

“Anyone been bothering you?” he tried again, feeling more stupid and worthless by the second. It had been so easy for the other clones to drag a peal of sharp laughter out of her. What had they managed to say that had been so amusing? What was he missing? He didn’t remember conversation being this difficult before; he could still make Fox and Wolffe laugh, but he didn’t think their brand of humor was something she’d find funny.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but that is part of the job. There will always be customers who drink too much and let it go to their heads; they are handsy and loud, but nothing more.”

Handsy? Ghoul thought to himself.

He remembered the look of her slender wrist caught in the grip of the drunk who had assaulted her, the way she had worked to free herself in a pointless struggle that hadn’t ended until he had stepped in. Was it more of the same? More like that? He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that she was the type to put up with a lot from others, maybe more than any sensible person would have under normal circumstances.

And it gave him an idea.

“Hey,” he said, “what time do you get out of here?”

It’s my imagination, he told himself when he thought he saw a blush reappear on her cheeks.

“In—in a few hours,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit. “Why?”

“I want you to meet me somewhere.”

She looked suspicious for a moment, the ends of her lekku flicking in a way that Ghoul thought might be curiosity. He didn’t speak Ryl, or know all the ways Twi’lek communicated using their lekku, but he wouldn’t blame her for thinking he was up to something. He was going off of a whim and if it worked then maybe he wouldn’t need to subject either of them to the painful way he kept grasping at attempts to communicate the same way others did.

Ghoul grabbed a napkin and smoothed it out on the countertop in front of him; he didn’t have anything to write with, but he didn’t even need to ask before the bartender was holding out a pen of her own, a curious look on her face as she watched him write down coordinates (and then, on a second thought, he wrote down the actual address because that’s probably what civvies did when they were trying to give directions).

“It’s not far from here,” he said. “You can walk it. I’ll have everything set up by the time you arrive.”

“So mysterious,” she said, taking the napkin and reading it over. “Just like my favorite genre. Alright, I will accept this offer…but are you sure you will not be waiting too long? Sometimes I am made to stay and clean before I leave.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ghoul said, feeling a little lighter when she didn’t immediately reject him. “I’m on leave for the next few days. I’ve got time.”

“What is it for?”

“...you’ll see when you get there.”

That brought a smile to her face. A small one, but the way her mouth curved felt like a dagger slipped between his ribs, more effective than any vibroblade.

“I like surprises,” she murmured, folding the napkin into a square and slipping it into the pocket of her pants. “Okay. I will see you in a little while. Thank you.”

He wanted to tell her not to thank him just yet; it was honestly a harebrained idea and if it fell flat he didn’t plan on showing his face anywhere near her again. But he was riding the high the idea had brought and he still needed time to go and get them registered. If she got there and hated everything about it, he’d deal with the fallout then.

For now though, he downed the rest of his drink, slapped his credits down on the bar and grabbed his helmet.

“Oh,” he said before he took his leave. “I uh…forgot to ask.”

“Yes?”

Ghoul averted his gaze, unable to look her in the face as the parts of his cheeks not mottled with scar tissue heated up in an embarrassed flush.

“What’s your name again?”

He didn’t see her initial reaction, but when he heard her laugh he looked up just in time to see the way her nose scrunched up before she covered the lower half of her face with her hand.

Oh.

“Odessa,” she said, humming with amusement.

Ghoul stood there a moment, transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to try and keep her smile from taking over her entire face.

“Odessa,” he repeated with a nod. “I won’t forget this time.”

~~~

Odessa didn’t realize she had been keeping track of the days since she had last seen Ghoul until he walked back through the doors at 79s, wearing the dark armor she had become so accustomed to seeing him in and carrying his helmet beneath his arm as rules dictated.

She had made note of the last time he had come to the bar, just a little memo she kept at home for her own amusement, but as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months she had grown worried. Of course he was a soldier, and soldiers were made for the battlefield, but she didn’t know his rank or position and had no idea what attachment he was a part of. She thought about asking Commander Wolffe the next time he showed up, but lost her nerve when he did.

She didn’t want to seem as though she was fishing for information…even though that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

The same night Odessa had caught Ghoul watching her dance at Rollo’s she had gone back to her tiny one room flat and thought about him. She thought about him more than she had ever thought about any clone who had come through the bar before and determined for herself that she…she had started to think of him in ways that were no longer strictly professional. Ghoul had piqued her interest from the start with his dark looks and his gruesome prosthetics, but the more she observed him and interacted with him the more she had begun to take an interest in who he was beneath those things.

Yes, he was rude, abrasive, aloof, and only seemed to care about Commanders Wolffe and Fox, but he was also…oddly considerate. Not on purpose, she thought, but he paid for his drinks each time in spite of her trying to give him at least one on the house. He tipped proportionately when he could and didn’t drink what he couldn’t pay for, even if she couldn’t pour it back into the bottle. He obeyed the sign at the door and removed his helmet, even though she felt confident in assuming he would have preferred to leave it on for as long as possible. He kept his head down and minded his business, like he didn’t really want anyone to take notice that he was there.

And then, more recently, he had proven that he could be considerate. Odessa still didn’t believe that he had jumped to fight those drunks in order to save her—they had insulted him, and she knew more than a few other clones who would have happily swung first—but in doing so he had stopped them from potentially hurting her or destroying the bar. He had offered to escort her to Rollo’s for no reason other than he thought it would be dangerous for her to walk alone, in spite of the fact that she had already made the short journey a hundred times before he had even known about it.

He’s nice, she told herself as she quickly wiped down the counters one last time while Rumi and Cyna clocked in for the evening shift. He’s nicer than he was in the beginning, at least. I think I could like him.

She actually thought she could do a whole lot better than just ‘like’ him, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

“Everything is ready for you,” Odessa called out to her coworkers as she threw off the apron she wore around her waist. “Remember to do the restock at the end of the night—you do not have to wait for everyone to leave, you can start before as long as it is not too busy!”

“Stop worrying about us and go enjoy your, uh…date or whatever,” Rumi said, waving her off.

“It is not a date,” Odessa said, while her heart leapt in her chest.

“Okay, don’t get murdered then, I guess!”

Odessa rolled her eyes and left the other two girls to figure out how to survive without her covering for them as she quickly ran outside to take the napkin out of her pocket. It was a little damp from where she spilled beer on herself trying to carry too many mugs at once, but at least the ink hadn’t bled. Ghoul’s handwriting was messy, but legible, and the address he left her was in an area she only partially knew, located near one of the large military bases. Curiosity consumed her—normally she would always refuse the offers she received from patrons to take her out after work, but this felt different.

Ghoul’s intentions were a mystery, but the fact that he had wanted her to meet him instead of waiting for her so they could go together kept Odessa grounded in reality; it wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t looking forward to it.

She had to stop twice to ask for directions, but once she made it past the base she had a better idea where she was headed.

And it was a surprise.

It made sense that there’d be a firing range right outside of a military base, but it had never occurred to Odessa to visit one. She couldn’t legally own a blaster anyways, so learning how to shoot was just something that had never crossed her mind. She could almost hear her father’s voice echoing around her thoughts, telling her there was no point in teaching her since she wouldn’t be joining the rebellion—her heart throbbed painfully with the memory, her throat suddenly tight as she remembered the angry tears she had spilled over the argument.

Suddenly she…didn’t feel so sure about this anymore.

But, true to his word, Ghoul was waiting for her outside. He took up more than his fair share of a bench, smoke curling from his mouth as he exhaled off a cygarette. He saw her coming in the same second she noticed him and quickly stubbed out the death stick before she got too close. Odessa didn’t mind the smell, but it was a nice gesture.

“I was not expecting this,” she said as soon as she was close enough that she didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Are you sure I am allowed to go in?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Ghoul asked, giving her an odd look. “It’s mostly clones, but the range is open to the public; if anyone looks funny at you, just tell me. I’ll set ‘em straight.”

She had meant it more in the sense of legality, whether it was okay for her to even look at a blaster, let alone go inside a building where she assumed she’d be surrounded by them, but something about the way Ghoul reassured her filled her with a sense of calm. He wouldn’t have brought her here just to humiliate her in some way.

“So what is this place?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the seemingly endless walls; it was at least three stories tall. “What are we going to be doing?”

“Just some target practice,” Ghoul said, opening the door; he started to go in first then seemed to think better of it, and stood aside to gesture her in ahead of him. Odessa hugged herself nervously, but allowed him to usher her inside the cool, air-conditioned room. As her eyes adjusted to shift in brightness, she felt him nudge her with his elbow toward another set of doors past a counter and rows upon rows of blaster power cells. There were a few people browsing, a couple of standard clones who didn’t appear to have any self-imposed modifications as well as a human woman wearing custom armor.

“I do not know how to shoot,” Odessa heard herself say as the distant sound of blasterfire sent cold shivers running up and down her arms.

“I know,” Ghoul said from right behind her, “I’m going to teach you.”

Father would be displeased, she thought to herself. He had done everything in his power to keep weapons of any kind out of her hands from the earliest age she had begun to show an interest in learning to use them, and he had forbidden everyone her family knew from teaching her in secret. He was well-respected within their village and didn’t fear disobedience from anyone.

But this wasn’t Ryloth and Ghoul, she suspected, feared no one.

Trepidation began to loosen its hold on her as anticipation slowly took its place. Odessa allowed herself the freedom to look around, watching with interest as Ghoul accepted a black duffel bag from one of the workers behind the counter; they looked at her strangely for a moment, but he leaned in and tapped his finger sharply against their shoulder.

“She’s with me,” he said brusquely.

And that was the end of it. The employee found something far more interesting to stare at and Ghoul jerked his head at Odessa as he shoved open the doors that led into a brightly lit hallway. It stretched in both directions for what seemed like the entire length of the building, the white expanse of wall broken up by steel doors stenciled with a combination of letters and numbers. Ghoul took off to the right with the bag slung over his shoulder, headed for a predetermined destination and it was all Odessa could do to keep up with the length of his stride. She could tell he wasn’t used to being followed, or having to wait for someone to catch up. He was single-minded in his intent to get to where they needed to go.

“I have never held a blaster before,” Odessa admitted as he wrenched open door H19.

“We all start out that way,” he said, unmoved by her excuses. “You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Get in.”

She hurried to obey, scurrying under his arm as he held the door open for her. The room she entered looked smaller at first, until she realized it was only the width that made it seem so. The walls were covered in a soft, fabric material and a barrier separated the small area where they stood from the rest of the room, which stretched roughly forty-five meters to the other end. Odessa could see a series of targets lined up, sheets of paper sporting dark outlines in the rough shape of Separatist droids.

“They are so far away,” she said, “how will I be able to hit anything?”

“I do it all the time,” Ghoul snorted as he dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and knelt by it. He ripped open the zipper and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a black, hard case, followed by a second one. Odessa’s heart rate spiked erratically when he popped the locks open to reveal a set of matching blasters. They looked much smaller than what she had seen before, but her memory betrayed her—those had been Separatist weapons, not Republic. The design Ghoul held was sleeker, fitted for organic hands, the grip situated closer to the trigger.

The lump in her throat grew and she felt as though she couldn’t swallow around it. The chill crept back into her flesh, raising tiny bumps all along her arms and shoulders. She wrung her hands together, seriously contemplating telling him that she didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to hold that cold, black thing in her hands, didn’t want to hear the sound it made when it went off.

“Here,” Ghoul said as he got back to his feet. He fit the other blaster into a holster on his hip, and she realized that these were his own personal weapons. He took hold of her elbow and dragged her closer to the barrier, setting the blaster down on the narrow siding. “I’m not an idiot, so we’ll go over safety first. This is the end blastbolts come out of; obviously, don’t point it anywhere you aren’t willing to shoot. This is the grip, the trigger, the power cell fits into here, and this is the safety switch.”

Odessa’s head swam as she watched him point out the parts of the blaster, information she realized she had already known, but had buried deep inside of her. She tried to say something, but the inside of her mouth felt as though it were filled with dust and she had to wet her teeth before trying again.

“That one there,” she said, pointing to a red button, “that is…for stunning?”

“Yes, good,” Ghoul said, sounding surprised. “We don’t use it on the range though; it doesn’t leave a mark and most of us are interested in our scores.”

“Score?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Now, look at this.”

His hands moved quickly and efficiently over the blaster, holding it at an angle away from himself as he popped the power cell containment. The cylinder fell into his waiting palm after a good tap and he set it aside. In the next moment he swept his arm up and pointed the blaster toward the target hanging at the other end; Odessa slapped her hands over her tcharan as he pulled the trigger…but nothing happened.

“It’s got no charge to it,” Ghoul said as he looked down at her. There was something close to amusement in his expression, she thought, but it was difficult to tell with his prosthetic. She knew though, just from the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled despite the scarring.

“That was mean,” she said as she dropped her hands, cheeks burning in embarrassment, like she should have known better.

“It’s educational. Here, you can hold it now that it’s safe.”

He held the blaster out to her expectantly, but Odessa just stared at it. It looked so small in his hand, so unassuming, like a little toy. It was…difficult to believe the power it held…the danger it represented. She thought of her father and the way he would disapprove…and she thought of her mother, laying on the floor in front of her, eyes glassy and unseeing as smoke rose from a hole in her chest.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat and forced herself to swallow it back down, forced herself to reach out and grab the weapon before she let her fear get the best of her.

It was as cold as she expected it to be but weighed heavier in her palm than its compact design had led her to believe. She closed her hand around the textured grip and Ghoul shuffled to stand just behind her shoulder, so close she could have leaned back just a bit and her lekku would brush against his chestplate.

“Remember what I said,” he murmured, “don’t point it at anything you don’t wanna shoot.”

“I have been paying attention,” Odessa murmured back as she slid her other hand along the side of the blaster, feeling it out. She toggled the safety switch and pressed the button that switched the modes for stun and kill, popped the bottom of the grip where the power cell fit in place, but avoided the trigger entirely. She didn’t know if she could do it, even while it presented no danger.

Ghoul observed her quietly, his presence at her back offering some comfort. She trusted that he knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Odessa knew he wouldn’t have invited her out to the range if he hadn’t thought her competent enough to at least try to learn. She still didn’t understand why, but…there was a part of her that didn’t want to disappoint him. He had come all this way and went through who knew how much trouble just to see her inside the building…it would shame her too much to back down now, after his show of trust.

Hesitantly, reluctantly, she slid her finger around the trigger and pulled back.

It didn’t budge.

“It is broken,” she said apologetically, after trying again with both hands to no avail.

Ghoul snorted and reached around her. He touched the back of her hand before his finger joined hers on the trigger, helping her hold it steady. The noise she swallowed would have been embarrassing, had she let it slip past her lips.

“Don’t yank on it,” he muttered, his breath a warm puff against the back of her lekku. “You gotta squeeze.”

He demonstrated what he meant, helping her slowly pull back until the trigger clicked, indicating it would have fired a shot.

Odessa squeezed her eyes shut—this time, the chill that ran up her spine had nothing to do with fear.

“I do not understand why it is so hard,” she said, trying to distract herself from how close Ghoul stood to her. She swayed in place and felt her hip brush against his kit; in response, or maybe just because, he took a step back.

“It’s to guard against accidental discharge,” Ghoul said. “You get used to it after a while. Ready to try with a live cell?”

“I…I do not know,” Odessa said, biting her lip. She set the blaster down on the siding the way she had watched him do before, and turned to look at him. “Why are you teaching me this? I am…not a soldier.”

He blinked down at her, his eyes giving away nothing. She didn’t know if it was because they were cybernetic or because he was trying very hard to school his expression, but he had always been more difficult to read for that reason.

“You don’t have to be a soldier to need to know your way around a blaster,” Ghoul said, his hands on his hips. “Consider these self-defense lessons.”

“But I do not own a—”

“I’ll deal with that later. Look, do you wanna do this or not?”

Odessa looked back down the range at the target. It was so small and so far away; there was no way she’d ever be able to make such a shot on her own, not even in the case of an emergency. If she were ever in a position where she was caught unawares, she’d have no choice but to surrender without a fight.

She closed her eyes and her mother’s stared back at her, dull and empty, lifeless.

“Yes,” she said, inhaling sharply. “Yes, I want to.”

“Good.”

Ghoul knelt back down and dug through his bag again, coming back up with a pair of protective earmuffs and glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been used in a very long time.

“Will these fit?” he asked, holding both items out for her to take.

Odessa took the heavy earmuffs in hand and turned them over, pulling on either earpiece to see how far they stretched.

“I think so,” she said, trying them on. They were a little tight over her tcharan, but the sound of her own voice was muffled now. The glasses fit her awkwardly, but they were not made with Twi’lek anatomy in mind.

“What about you?” Odessa asked when she saw Ghoul stand back up without any additional safety gear for himself.

“Relax,” he said, then reached to his ears to fiddle with his hearing aid. “Volume’s down, so talk louder if you want me to hear you. Here’s the power cell. How you watched me take it out? It goes back in the same way. Just push until you hear the click. The gauge shows how much of a charge you got left. Keep the safety on until you’re ready to make your shot.”

Odessa’s hands shook as she tried to follow his directions. She felt clumsy, like a child trying to figure out a new toy for the first time. It didn’t help that she felt his eyes on her, judging her for the amount of time she wasted trying to do what he could in seconds.

“There,” she said as the gauge lit up, showing a full charge. “Now what?”

“Now you point it at the target, line up your sights, and squeeze the trigger.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she grumbled loudly, holding her arm out to point the blaster toward the target.

“Both hands,” Ghoul growled, roughly tapping her other shoulder. His fingers were hard and sharp, jabbing into her painfully. Odessa scowled but corrected her grip with one hand cradling the other. She heard him sigh in exasperation and he reached over her shoulder again, pressing against her back to do so.

“Extend this finger,” he said, uncurling her pointer that wasn’t on the trigger. “Hold it against the barrel like this; it helps steady your shot.”

“Do you normally teach?” she asked as her lekku twitched. He was so broad, so warm. Her heat-seeking heart wanted to lean into him, which was a silly idea, very stupid. She distracted herself by tapping her newly extended finger against the side of the blaster.

“I don’t waste my time with shinies,” Ghoul said. “They got instructors on Kamino for that. How’s that feel?”

“Like I am holding a blaster in my hands.”

“Alright, smartass. Go ahead and take your time. Shoot only when you’re ready.”

“I am going to miss.”

“Probably.”

Odessa pouted, but their banter felt…a little more playful this time. She could swear Ghoul was enjoying himself. Already he had spoken more words than he ever had before and had invaded her personal space twice. She didn’t mind it at all, even though it put her back in the headspace she had been trying to escape from for the past two months, where thoughts of the way his hands might feel on the ends of her lekku tormented her. She wondered how much of his prosthetic jaw was for show.

“I am aiming,” she said, closing one eye to try and focus down the tiny sights on the top of the blaster.

“Eyes open,” Ghoul ordered. Odessa made a noise of frustration and glanced over her shoulder to shoot him a little glare. Nonplussed, he shrugged.

“You see better with both eyes open,” he said. “It’s common sense.”

“Okay,” she said, licking her lips as she refocused. It was such a small target, impossible for anyone except an expertly trained soldier…but she took a deep breath, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and squeezed the trigger the way Ghoul had shown her, slowly exerting pressure until she felt it give.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa yelped as the blaster fired, the recoil reverberating up through her hands and into her forearms. It tingled in the same way her leg felt when she sat with it folded beneath her for too long, like it had gone to sleep. Fuzzy was the right word. She could taste her heart in the back of her throat, heard the blood rushing through her head. For a moment, she almost felt dizzy. Quickly, Odessa flicked the safety back on and set the blaster down, taking a step back and bumping into Ghoul as she did so.

His hands flew to her shoulders for the briefest of moments, then fluttered away, like he was…unsure about the ways he could touch her. Small gestures seemed to be alright, but anything more set him on edge, though whether he was being considerate of her own comfort over his was unclear.

Odessa took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes again, counting through numbers until she didn’t feel like her legs were going to give out from under her. When she looked toward the target to see whether or not she had hit it…there was only a blackened mark on the wall far to the left…and about a meter too high.

“I told you I would miss,” she said, ripping off the earmuffs. “This is pointless.”

"It's only pointless if you give up. Stop whining."

"The target is too far away! How can anyone hit it from back here?"

Ghoul sneered and reached for his blaster so quickly Odessa barely had time to pull her earmuffs back on before he fired. Unlike her, he held his blaster in one hand and aimed from a sidestance and unlike her, all three of his rapidfire shots hit the target dead center, three perfect holes that made her one attempt look even more pathetic.

“You missed because it's your first time, " Ghoul said. "And you closed your eyes at the last second. And your stance is…kriffing awful. Come on, put those back on and try again. You’re not leaving until you can at least hit the target.”

She almost refused…but she remembered the way she had cried when her father took her brother out to show him how to use a blaster, leaving her behind. It had dug a hole in her heart, one so small it had been easy to ignore for the past decade. This…could very well be her only chance to learn what she had been denied so long ago.

With a sigh, Odessa pulled the earmuffs back on and tried to adjust them so they weren’t so uncomfortable. Ghoul waited for her at the barrier, and this time when she picked up the blaster his hand hovered over her arm, like he wanted to take hold. Odessa swallowed, the ends of her lekku curling.

“You can touch me, if you need to,” she said.

“...what?”

“I said…if I am standing wrong, you can touch me—to fix it.”

Ghoul didn’t say anything for so long that she thought he hadn’t heard her at all. Or maybe he was trying to find a way to refuse. She realized a little too late that her words could be taken the wrong way, out of context, and hoped he’d mistake her blush for one of stress. Another moment passed in which she considered telling him to forget what she had just said, but then she saw his fingers curl a bit in hesitation before he took hold of her arm, cupping her elbow in a firm grip.

Odessa felt him press against her back, then jumped as he knocked his boot against her feet, kicking them a little further apart. His other hand fell to her hip—she imagined the way his last two fingers flexed against her, surely—and he used his hold to forcibly angle her body so one foot was planted ahead of the other. She wasn’t sure she felt any sturdier than she had before, but he seemed pleased at least.

“Now I shoot?” she asked, looking back at him.

He was close, so close she could see the fine details of his prosthetic, the black-on-black pattern etched into the pieces on either side of the bottom row of teeth, and the impossibly tiny screws holding them together. His eyes were more silvery than white, and the scarring surrounding them more extensive than she had previously realized.

“Hold on,” he said. His hand had never left her elbow and he held tight as he leaned over her shoulder, unblinking as he adjusted her aim. Odessa found herself holding her breath as every inch of her became painfully aware of every inch of him.

“Alright,” Ghoul said. “Go ahead and shoot.”

She squeezed the trigger too quick and the shot went wild, this time to the right of the target; the blastmark against the wall sat closer, but still a little too high.

“Stop tensing,” he snapped, squeezing her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I am not tensing!” she protested. “I am doing exactly as you said!”

“Like I can’t feel it? No one’s shooting back at you, so loosen up.”

He gave her a little shake that made her want to ‘accidentally’ step on his foot, but his criticism was valid. He was probably regretting his decision to teach her how to shoot now that he saw how bad she was at it, but Odessa didn’t want to give up. She wasn’t a quitter

“Again,” she said. “There is plenty of charge left. And you are on leave, are you not? We have time.”

She heard him sigh.

“Fine. Let’s try and make at least one passable shot.”

The next two attempts failed in the same way, with one narrowly missing the target and the other scorching the floor and almost sparking another argument. Ghoul’s frustration with her inability to make one clean hit was only matched by her stubborn refusal to back down. Her fifth shot did better—it clipped through the edge of the target, burning the paper. Ghoul still counted it as a miss and helped her adjust her stance again by just a small margin.

Odessa’s hands felt numb, like they were filled with stinging insects. She could scarcely feel her fingers anymore and she truly had no idea how clones could do this day in and day out. She felt her respect for them climb ever higher, knowing how useless she would have been on the battlefield. She tried not to think of her father and the infamous I–told–you–so expression he wore whenever he was proven right. None of that mattered.

“I think I am beginning to get the hang of it,” she said when her next shot actually hit the edge of the target’s outline.

“Barely,” Ghoul snorted as he slid his hand further up her arm, toward her shoulder. “On Kamino they’d have dropped you back in the tank for reconditioning.”

“What’s that?” she asked, immediately curious. She had never heard him—or any clone, for that matter—speak openly about the watery planet from which they originated. Rumors ran rampant, of course, but she never trusted any piece of newsworthy information that didn’t come with sources attached.

“It’s…it’s when clones don’t do as well as they’re supposed to in simulations,” Ghoul said. Odessa felt the change in his grip as much as she heard it in the tone of his voice, the way his fingers stiffened and all the emotion bled out of him. He sounded so different, so guarded all of the sudden that she felt bad for asking.

“What happens?” she pressed, despite the warning signs that this was a subject best left alone.

“...they’re made to start over.”

She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but there was finality to his words that she didn’t argue. He didn’t want to talk about it and she didn't want to push him any farther. Whatever 'reconditioning' was, it couldn't be anything good.

"One more, I think," Odessa said, changing the subject to distract Ghoul. "I will hit the target this next time, I am certain."

"...we'll see."

He lowered his hand from her arm and took a step back, leaving her at the barrier alone. Without his support, she felt the ache in her shoulders more poignantly. The scent of burnt ozone hung in the air and the blaster felt slippery in her hands, a combination of the sweat from her palms and the heatsink compensating for the power cell and capacitors. She really didn't want to disappoint him….

Odessa inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled just as slowly. She stared down the sights of the blaster, lining them up with the target in the distance.

Just squeeze, she coached herself. Slowly and firmly.

TSSEEW!!

The blasterbolt ripped through the paper, incinerating a good portion of the target's shoulder and chassis. It wasn't a direct shot, nor was it perfect, but it was a solid hit.

"Yes!!" Odessa cheered, setting the blaster down before jumping around in a circle. She beamed at Ghoul, who stood there with his eyebrows raised like he hadn't expected her to actually do any better.

"Your expert teaching has paid off!" she claimed as she set aside the earmuffs. "So now I sign up for battle, yes?"

He chuckled—actually chuckled— and shook his head.

"I didn't think you'd be able to do it," he admitted. "Guess I don't mind being proven wrong. Good job."

His praise, however small, made her feel as though she could float away. More than anything she liked the way he looked, the shape of his eyes narrowed the same way they would in a smile and the lines of his body more relaxed. She liked the easy way he talked to her now, versus his clipped way of speaking at 79s. He was…handsome, she thought. Not in the usual way, but…it was something else, something that wasn't necessarily physical.

Odessa continued to beam at him, feeling for all the world that she could launch into the sky, circle the sun, and come back down for a perfect landing. And she hadn't wanted to hold the blaster at first.

"Now what?" she asked, rocking on her heels. "More targets?"

"Not today," Ghoul said, stretching. "I need to get back to base. We only had an hour here anyway."

"Then next time," Odessa suggested, feeling very brave. "Next time we…try again."

Ghoul looked startled for a second, then confused. Did he not think she'd want to do this again, just to be around him if nothing else?

"It will be good practice," she insisted before he could say anything. "I am still not so good a shot…it will take more times before I can be like you."

That drew out another little snort of amusement and Ghoul shook his head.

"A whole war wouldn't be enough to get you on the same level as me," he said, "but you gotta start somewhere. Come on, pack up."

He made her discharge the blaster's capacitor before letting her pack it back into its protective carrying case, and then he hauled his bag back over his shoulder again and shooed her out the door. The target itself came with them, rolled up and tucked beneath his arm until he handed it to her to carry. Odessa hadn’t realized she would be allowed to keep it, but she was already making plans in her head where she would hang it as a memento in her apartment.

The hallway was abandoned except for another pair of humans also ending their training session—not clones, she saw, but what looked like a father and son. Their hair color matched, at least. The boy looked scarcely older than thirteen and, still riding the high from making her shot, Odessa waved at him with a smile when he looked up.

He grinned and waved back enthusiastically—and too late she realized he waved with the same hand holding a blaster.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa didn't have time to react as the shot ricocheted toward them, but she felt an arm encircle her shoulders and push down, hard enough to send her crumpling to her knees mid-step. She curled in on herself instinctively, a hand coming up over the top of her head as she dropped, followed by the weight of another body against her back. The blasterbolt struck the wall, the floor, then the ceiling as it traveled down the hall, burning itself out and sending sparks everywhere. One of the lights flickered, damaged beyond repair, and several doors swished open as people came out to see what the commotion was.

She heard the noise of people shouting—“You karking idiot, who let that brat in here?! Take that thing away from him before it goes off again!”—and footsteps pounding against the floor, the loud, panicked cries of the boy—“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”—and the loudspeakers feeding an announcement into the air for everyone to remain calm. Her heartbeat sounded in her head like the staccato beat of a wardrum and she couldn’t move, frozen to the floor with the rolled up target clutched to her chest like it was her only lifeline.

The hard plasteel of Ghoul’s armor dug into her side, but then she saw his boot come into view. He knelt over her, practically straddling her hips for a moment before climbing to his feet. She caught a glimpse of his expression—incandescent with rage, yet it sent a thrill racing through her—and then he held out his hand to her.

“Get up,” he hissed.

Odessa grasped at his gloved hand and let him yank her to her feet as though she weighed nothing at all, practically lifting her off the ground until she gathered her legs beneath her. Her limbs shook wildly and she gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

“You hurt?” he asked, looking her over.

“N-no,” she replied. “Just startled, I think.”

“Good. Come on.”

He pushed her in front of him, steering her toward the exit doors with a hand on her shoulder; they passed the boy and his father, who were now surrounded by a combination of other patrons and employees, all of them shouting so loudly the sound of it hurt her head. Odessa pressed a few fingers to her temple to quell the throbbing and allowed Ghoul to guide her until they were both outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air, closing her eyes and trying to calm her nerves. She was rattled, but untouched. It was harrowing, but just an accident. No one was hurt. It was okay.

Ghoul paced about four meters away, already smoking a cygarette that she hadn’t noticed him light up. She could hear him muttering to himself, his tone dark and murderous; she didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he probably wanted to go back inside and give those two a piece of his mind. Maybe if she hadn’t been there he would have…or maybe he would have done worse, she thought, remembering the violent way he had reacted to the drunks at the bar. Maybe leaving had been the best option.

As the adrenaline wore off, Odessa felt exhaustion take hold of her, filling her limbs with a sluggish feeling that told her she’d sleep well tonight if the nightmares didn’t take hold. Too much excitement for one day, and she hadn’t even managed to change out of her work uniform. Ghoul dropped onto the bench by the wall, having already burned through half of his cygarette.

“Are you alright?” Odessa asked as she joined him, gingerly taking up the space at the far end of the bench. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and all his muttering had ceased, replaced with a dark, haunted look that filled her with apprehension. His mood shifted him into someone unknown, but she didn’t want to simply ignore it in the hopes that he would return to the Ghoul of only a few moments ago.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely, inhaling on his death stick. “I get shot at all the time; it’s nothing new.”

“Not like this though,” Odessa said as she squirmed in place. “It is not supposed to be happening here.”

“...no. It was an accident—a kriffing stupid one. They need to ban that idiot until he teaches his brat blaster safety.”

“...thank you, for saving me.”

This time she was certain that was what he had done. There was no need to second guess herself when he had acted so quickly, putting himself between her and harm’s way like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wondered how much of his actions were due in part to his training, versus instinct. Or maybe they were the same thing to clones, who were bred to endure conditions worse than an accidental discharge. Odessa swallowed and looked up to the sky, painted in shades of orange and crimson as the sun began to set.

“Don’t need thanks,” Ghoul said beside her. “Just…did what I’m supposed to.”

“Still,” she sighed, “it was dangerous. Thank you.”

He grunted and flicked the rest of his death stick to the ground, getting to his feet again and jerking his head at her.

“Where do you live,” he asked, and there was a tiredness to his voice that she felt reflected in her bones. They were both worn out, it seemed.

“Not far, actually,” she said, also getting to her feet. “But you do not need to accompany me. I can find my own way.”

“Wasn’t asking permission,” Ghoul said.

Odessa smiled and shook her head, but led the way back down a level, like she was headed toward 79s. Her apartment was very small, part of a series of lower-income housing funded by the Senate and rented mostly by immigrants such as herself. It was close enough to the bar that she walked to and from every shift, but far enough from the shelter that she had to take a skyliner with three transfers.

They walked in silence the entire way, Ghoul managing to get through another whole cygarette before he seemed to finally relax. She hadn’t said anything, but she could tell that he had also been unnerved by the rogue blasterbolt. The difference between them was that he had still been able to take action, while she had all but seized up. Her father had been correct about her in a way that burned her to admit, but Odessa didn’t dwell on it for long. She didn’t want to end her day on a sour note.

“This one is me,” she said as she came to a stop in front of her door. Three flights of stairs and a balcony view was more than she ever could have hoped for, even if the inside wasn’t all that impressive. The paint of the door was cracked and peeling and the outside of the complex had seen better years. She didn’t think Ghoul would judge her for where she lived, so she didn’t let it bother her.

“Thank you again,” she said, turning to look up at him. “For the lesson, and for walking with me. You are full of surprises.”

Ghoul sniffed and avoided looking directly at her. Human skintones were all some variation of beige, pink and brown, but she could tell that he blushed from the way his ears reddened.

“It was nothing,” he said. “Just…felt like you should know how to shoot, since you’re always walking places by yourself.”

“You did not have to spend your precious time teaching me, but you did. I…enjoyed it very much.”

He squirmed like he was uncomfortable receiving her gratitude, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Odessa watched him for a moment, fighting the feeling building inside of her chest.

But why?

“Ghoul,” she said, to get his attention. He looked and she crooked her finger at him. “Come close.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in like he was expecting her to tell him a secret, turning his ear toward her to better hear. She giggled and reached for his face, standing up on her toes and sliding her fingers along his prosthetic jaw to turn him back to look at her. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was gentle, lingering just long enough for her to realize that yes, his upper lip was as soft as it looked despite the scarring, and she didn’t at all mind the way the prosthetic felt. It was cool beneath her fingers, smooth metal and synth-flesh married together in an impressive feat of engineering that allowed her to kiss him the way she had been thinking about for too long.

“Thank you,” Odessa said as she rocked back on her heels. “I had fun, despite being shot at. You are a very good teacher.”

Ghoul just stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. It wasn’t the first time she had managed to surprise him, but she was definitely beginning to master the act. She thumbed the line where the flesh of his cheek disappeared beneath metal and dropped her hand reluctantly. If she stood there any longer she would do something brash, like invite him inside. It was too much for one day, and she already had a lot to think about. She suspected sleep would not come easily for her, despite how tired she felt.

“I will see you again?” she asked. “At 79s?”

“Y-yeah,” Ghoul finally said, his voice raspy.

“Good. Well…take care.”

She unlocked her door and slid inside, watching through the crack as Ghoul turned to leave, his movements halting and stiff. She watched as he glanced back at her door twice, a different look on his face both times; she had never met a man like him before, someone as guarded as he was, who didn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, and yet whose recent actions betrayed the very image he tried to project.

Odessa watched until he descended the stairs out of view, then closed her door and leaned against it with a happy little sigh, her lekku flicking back and forth with delight.

I like him.

#star wars oc #star wars oc fanfic #the bad batch oc #friend oc #odessa x ghoul #the babies #they've come so far #;;A;;#i have never written so much in so short amount of time #the mun writes

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