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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 1 year

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Pieces - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: Swearing, drinking.

Word Count - 9.2k

A/N: ALRIGHT NERDS! I'M BACK HAHAHAHA.

After what feels like the world's longest hiatus, my personal life is back on track and this fic is ticking over once again. To apologise for my absence may I present a 9k chapter that I spent far too long agonising over. Biggest of thank yous to @wild-karrde - Karrde my friend, you are the reason this fic continues to live, thank you for all your help, advice, and for battling through my lack of commas <3, one day I will learn 😁.

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Steam clouded Issa’s lenses as she wrapped her thin hands around the mug of tea before her, lifting the red liquid to her lips. The Jedi took a sip and gave a content sigh as the warm drink did its work of fighting off the cool from the ship’s air supply.

It was her first moment of peace in little over a month she realised. The fighting on Antar 4 had been relentless, and the only reason for the battalion’s sudden respite was the fact that their initial campaign had been a success. They’d managed to push the Separatists out of the main city, and established a secure perimeter to keep them out, which gave Antar 4’s elected government the chance to begin their defence efforts against the local terrorists. There were a few moments where things had been tight and times when casualties had been higher than anticipated, but overall, their success had been noted by the Jedi Council and higher ups in the GAR.

That recognition is what led them to this point, being aboard the Triumphant and heading back to Coruscant. It seemed now that the 104th had proven themselves, Issa, her master and the battalion were being reassigned to a more pressing fight in the war.

This morning they’d welcomed the 182nd Legion and their general, Master Kolar. They spent a few hours bringing them up to speed on their surroundings before beginning the process of packing up and shipping out. It’d been a long day, but the troops were looking forward to sleeping in their own bunks again on the Venator.

As was she.

Fighting on the frontlines of a war was something Issa had truly had to experience in order to gain some semblance of understanding of what it would be like. Words and stories didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. It’d been grinding, dirty, and exhausting to the bone. The fear and uncertainty she felt each time she got a chance to close her eyes pushed rest and ease far from her mind.

It had been an odd feeling, not being able to slow her mind for such an extended period of time. Everything had felt thrown together and reactive, no matter how long they’d spent hunched over a holotable, strategising into the early hours of the morning. The Pantoran also didn't remember a time when she’d been among other people’s company for so long, having spent years in the calm and steady presence of only Master Plo on their extended research missions. She’d always found solace on her own, in her own safe spaces where she could unwind. But out there, she’d had no escape, especially with every sense being pushed to the extremes. It’d been overwhelming to say the least.

But, in spite of it all, she and a majority of their men survived.

We’re still here.

Since they’d returned to the Triumphant, Plo had given her the green light to retreat to her quarters to take stock of herself and what they’d all been through together the past month, while still fulfilling her new command duties but from a distance. It’d been a couple of days since she’d seen anyone really, but it had helped, so she was thankful for her Master’s understanding as always.

Having gotten used to sleeping for short bursts while on the frontlines, Issa was struggling to readjust back to a normal sleeping pattern. She’d spent a good hour that night tossing and turning in her bunk before giving up and hunkering down in the mess hall with a cup of tea and a few datapads.

Might as well use the time to get some new scenery and do some work.

As another smooth sip of tea warmed her throat, it hit Issa that it’d been nearly a year since the last time she’d had this particular blend, and for a moment she was transported back in time. She was back in Obi-Wan’s quarters at the temple with him and one of her closest friends, Anakin. The Jedi Master was a connoisseur of teas from around the galaxy, always trying to stop off and pick up different recipes while away on missions. He’d been particularly excited about the one he’d finally managed to source from a small village on Karlinus. The three of them sat in his sparse room while the steam of freshly boiled water drifted through the small space, quietly chatting and joking amongst themselves. She remembered Anakin’s face behind his Master’s back as he grimaced at the drink’s sweet taste, sticking his tongue out dramatically in a way he knew would have Issa chuckling. He'd always been one who sought out the more bitter flavours in life, like the ten cups of caf he drank each day.

With a knowing smile as he turned back around to the pair, Obi-Wan shook his head as he caught the way Anakin tried to hide his reaction from him. “I feel as though your palate might be a lost cause, my Padawan.”

The Pantoran smiled, shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Anakin’s failed antics. Issa couldn’t believe that the young Jedi she’d spent half her life training alongside had recently been promoted to the rank of Knight, making history as one of the youngest in the Order aged just nineteen. She was truly proud of her friend. It seemed he was truly destined for greatness, and Issa could think of no one more deserving. I’ll have to congratulate Obi-Wan on finally being free of his Padawan too.

As the feeling of nostalgia settled in warmly within her chest, Issa placed down her cup and grabbed her abandoned stylus so she could continue her notes on Antar 4. She’d been studying a battle plan when the door to the mess swished open. Issa noticed someone paused in the doorway for a moment before entering the room with a huff. “What are you doing up?” the new entrant questioned.

“Hello to you too, Wolffe,” Issa replied, not lifting her eyes from the work before her. “I’m going over those strategies we drew up with Book and Master Plo. I want to make sure I know them inside and out for the briefing on Coruscant.”

“Well you’re not going to be of any use to us half dead on your feet. You should get some sleep.”

“Could say the same to you, Commander. What are you doing up?”

Wolffe just grunted at her before making his way over to the caf machine and pouring himself a strong cup. Still maintaining his silence, he leaned back against the counter and stared down into the dark liquid before him. Issa chanced a moment to look her commander over. He was clad in his black body glove he usually wore under his armour, and his eyes were heavy with the beginnings of dark circles blooming beneath them. Her eyes traced up to his hair, which was slightly mussed, and his frown was even more downturned than usual, which was really saying something.

Wolffe had something on his mind, that much was obvious. Though it was also kyber clear that he didn’t come in here to talk. In fact, he was surprised to have seen her, which meant he’d likely been looking for some solitude.

Do I check on him anyway? Issa asked herself. She knew she would likely be met with a biting response demanding she mind her own business, but as her eyes flitted over to Wolffe once more, his sombre expression gave her the final push of concern she needed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered quietly, averting her eyes so that they remained firmly on the datapads before her so as to not put him off with any unwanted attention. Issa and Wolffe weren’t exactly close. The clone commander was rather rough around the edges, and they were still finding their feet with whatever working relationship they were forging, which added a nice layer of uncertainty to many interactions between them.

“No,” Wolffe grumbled. Though he didn’t say anything else, which was more positive than Issa was expecting.

“Okay.”

Maker, this is awkward.

With a small nod, Issa pushed her frames higher up her nose and returned to her work while Wolffe began sipping at his hot caf. A good few minutes went by, and they settled into a rocky silence while Issa lost herself in strategies and plans. She became so engrossed in the data before her that when Wolffe spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“We lost some good men in that last battle.” Wolffe’s voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it could probably be called a whisper, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like he’d shouted into the quiet room.

Issa knew her eyes had widened in shock, confused and relieved that Wolffe was actually talking about what was bothering him. She peered up at him through her lenses and settled the datapads away from her, giving the commander her full attention. “We did. Wrexler, Vick, Kip, Dino and Zander were all great guys.”

Now it was Wolffe’s turn to look shocked. “You remember all their names?”

“Of course. Master Plo and I said we’d learn everyone’s names that first day we all met. We don’t say things we don’t mean. You’re people Wolffe, not droids. The lives we lose aren’t so easily swept away for us either you know.” Wolffe grunted again and fell silent, staring back into the mug in his hand as if it held the answers to whatever questions he was torturing himself with.

Feeling brave and maybe stupid, Issa took a steadying breath before choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… blame yourself?”

Wolffe’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his amber irises burning with something she couldn’t pinpoint, making Issa swallow. Shit, okay too far. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she held her hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Great, that’ll set us back nicely. Smooth Straun.

As Issa mentally kicked herself, she noticed that something in her reaction to his heated gaze had caused Wolffe’s frustration at her to cool. His glare softened, and he averted his eyes to stare at the wall to his side as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy while bouncing his leg ever so slightly.

“Yes,” he eventually replied, biting the word out as if it went against everything in him to utter it. It took Issa a moment to realise he was responding to her question. So he does blame himself. Wolffe continued. “I’m their Commander, my choices lead to their deaths. I’m the person who's supposed to protect them.”

“That’s not your job alone, Wolffe. If that’s your logic, Plo and I are equally as to blame as you.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” she asked. Her question wasn’t fuelled by impatience or frustration at Wolffe’s mindset but by genuine curiosity. Issa wanted to understand exactly the reason why he was putting this responsibility solely on his shoulders.

“Because you’re not one of us,” he snapped, eyes burning brightly once more. His harsh tone appeared to be an accident as a sliver of regret slipped onto his features while he flexed his jaw.

Issa gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I'm not offended.” Every soldier lost is another member of his family gone, another face identical to his that was taken too soon. “It’s personal for you, I understand.”

Wolffe scoffed and lifted a hand to rub at his jawline, his fingers scraping across the rough, growing stubble there. “I don’t need a lecture on the losses of war, just so you know.”

Issa’s smile grew. “I wasn’t planning on one. I was just going to say that should you ever want to share that burden, Master Plo and I are carrying it as well, maybe in a different way, but we are. We’re here to support you, Wolffe, as much as you are us.” He didn’t have a reply to that, but Issa was happy that she’d been heard. She chanced a look down at the chrono on one of the datapads and realised it was very early in the morning.

“Hey, since we’re both up, fancy a spar? Might help tire you out.”

Wolffe took another sip of his drink with a raised eyebrow. “A spar?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle a Jedi?” Issa teased, which earned her one of Wolffe’s signature eye rolls, slow and exaggerated, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

“Fine. But I'm not explaining to the general why his padawan’s pride is in pieces tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The pair made their way to the training room. The open space was cast in shadow until the sensors detected their presence and triggered the lights to roll on. In the centre of the hangar was a blue mat, which Issa stepped onto gently. The plastic covering was cool beneath her feet as she stretched her arms above her head, sighing as some of the bones in her back popped. Kriff, I’ve been sitting down for too long. Across from her, Wolffe shook his limbs out and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“What sort of spar did you have in mind?” he questioned as he pulled an arm behind his back, stretching the Republic cog in the middle of his shirt even further across his broad chest.

Issa shrugged. “You’re my military teacher. I thought you could decide.”

“Fine. Hand-to-hand it is. You know the rules?” Issa shook her head and he continued. “Mostly anything goes, though no career-ending hits, and if your opponent taps three times you let go and the match is over. Clear?”

“As transparisteel.” At her confirmation, Wolffe locked eyes with her and met her in the middle of the mat. The area they were fighting on was rather large; the hangar the mat sat in was designed to house multiple gunships, and the mat itself was almost the size of one. Issa took a steadying breath as she tracked the strong commander in front of her.

“Sure you wanna do this Straun?” Waves of confidence rolled off of the clone as he stepped closer.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Alright.” The word had barely left his lips before he darted forward with a swing of his right fist. Issa managed to duck just in time to miss Wolffe’s punch, but her confusion left her open, which Wolffe utilised by delivering a swift kick to her ribs, winding Issa and forcing her back a few paces.

For someone so bulky, I thought he’d move a hells of a lot slower than that. Unfortunately the universe wasn’t that kind. It seemed the commander had plenty of training on keeping his speed up in a fight. The Pantoran heaved a few ragged breaths before she willed her breathing back under control.

“Sure you want to carry on?” The question was genuine, but the slight upturn on the corner of his lips made Issa bristle.

“Only just getting started, Wolffe.”

They traded blows back and forth fairly evenly from then on, Issa decidedly not underestimating her commander any further. She might not have had military training, but the ways of the Force lended well to combat, and her years at the temple hadn’t all been studying and katas. She’d trained on how to fight without her weapon just as much as she had with it. It was just a skill she hadn’t had to call upon in a real world scenario in a while. As she analysed Wolffe’s movements and opportunities for attack, her training slowly came trickling back on how she could lean on the Force to make her movements more swift, her attacks hit harder, her defensive positions more fortified.

By the time they were bone-tired and sweaty from their fight, Issa had managed to get a few good hits in on the clone commander, including a kick to his cheek that left the skin bright red. Overall, Wolffe had bested her more times and was the clear winner of the fight, but it was progress, both in her training to become a better commander and also in her relationship with Wolffe. This had been the longest the two of them had been left unsupervised, and they were both still talking to each other, which Issa felt was a great victory.

“Not bad, Straun, though you’re thinking too much. I can tell you were holding back at times. You don’t trust yourself. You’ve got to get more comfortable with your abilities if you want to throw your all into a fight.”

“Right.”

“We’ll try again when we stop off on Coruscant, bring a few of the men in so I can point some things out to you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Wolffe.” The commander nodded at her and the room descended into silence until an almighty yawn tore its way through Issa before she could stop herself. She met Wolffe’s gaze, a look of exasperated confusion conveyed through his raised eyebrow as she gave a sheepish chuckle.

He huffed at her with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back to the barracks.”

The pair of them walked in silence through the halls of the Triumphant, passing the odd pair of patrols on their way who always stopped to salute their two commanders. Finally they arrived at their neighbouring rooms and bid each other goodnight before Issa collapsed onto her bunk and drifted immediately off to a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day the 104th arrived on Coruscant. Issa, Plo, Wolffe and Admiral Coburn had been holed up in a meeting room for an in-person debrief of the situation on Antar 4. They’d spent hours divulging everything including their findings on the enemy, loss ratios and any future battle plans they had drawn up which could be passed onto the 182nd, who would be taking over the protection of the Republic-aligned moon.

It’d been a long day, but Issa felt confident that she’d been able to contribute to the meeting where appropriate rather than just listening and learning. They’d also been told that they’d be heading to the Outer Rim to Scariff. Apparently the Separatists were planning to build a factory on the planet and were shipping in large portions of materials for the development. The 104th’s job would be to disrupt the delivery of the materials and take out as many of the enemy forces as they could.

Since landing on Antar 4, it felt as though everything had been non-stop for the battalion. They’d barely had a moment's respite in the month they’d been fighting, and it was starting to show among the troops. Thankfully, Plo had convinced the council to extend their layover in the Republic’s capital for an extra couple days, giving the full squad some well-earned downtime.

The news of their first night off had sent shockwaves of celebration through the ranks of the 104th, which warmed Issa’s heart. They’d fought hard in tough terrain and deserved the time to themselves to revel in their victory and remember the brothers they’d lost. What had sweetened the deal even more for the soldiers was that the Republic had created a bar dedicated to the clones right here on Coruscant where they could drink for free and enjoy their downtime in peace amongst their brothers.

The Wolfpack were truly overjoyed with the news of a night partying and had even kindly extended the invite to their two Jedi to join them. However, Plo and Issa decided that the troopers deserved a real night off, away from their natborn commanding officers, as Issa had learned they’d been called.

At the GAR headquarters, Issa was chatting pleasantly with Admiral Coburn as they exited the meeting room, the pair trailing behind Master Plo and Wolffe. The padawan watched as the two men in front of her talked amongst themselves. It was clear to see in Wolffe’s presence how he respected his general, and while Issa was on the road to earning that respect herself, it warmed her to know that Plo had the same effect on other people as he had on her. From her few conversations with Wolffe over the past couple months, Issa had been gaining snippets on Wolffe’s views and the weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he shouldered, and it was clear that his trust was rarely given out. Issa was glad he at least had someone of seniority who he could truly put his faith into beyond the respectful level of courtesy he automatically gave as clone commander.

Admiral Coburn cleared his throat politely, drawing the small group to a stop. “Padawan Straun, Master Plo, Commander Wolffe, I’m afraid I will have to bid you a farewell here. Please enjoy the rest of your shore leave and I look forward to our first mission together in a few days.”

“Thank you Admiral, we shall see you soon,” Plo replied, nodding in goodbye as the naval officer turned on his heel and down an adjacent hallway, his shiny black boots clacking on the metallic flooring as he walked away.

“Issa, I believe we should head back to the temple.”

“Yes of cour-'' Issa was cut off by her comm chirping, the light flashing up at her from her vambrace. Her forehead creased as she clicked the button on the device. “This is Commander Straun.”

“Sir, it’s Sinker. We were hoping you could come down to the barracks with Commander Wolffe after your meeting.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably best you didn’t.” Issa could practically hear Sinker’s smirk on the other end of the line, picturing his silver eyes sparkling in mischief, likely with Boost and TP hanging over his shoulders.

“Alright, we’re finished now so we’ll head down.”

“Well it appears you have other business,” Plo suggested fondly. “Enjoy your evening Commanders.”

Issa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll be back at the temple after this, Master,” she assured.

The Kel Dor said nothing as he inclined his head at the both of them and began walking towards the exit, leaving Issa perplexed. She chanced a look at Wolffe to see if he could elaborate on what had just transpired. Unfortunately all she received was a restrained eye roll before he silently led the way to the turbo lift, leaving her to trail after him.

During the battalion’s stay on Coruscant, their troopers were given bunks at the Guard’s sleeping quarters. The lower levels beneath the HQ practically acted as a clone hotel; there were levels upon levels of rooms for any visiting soldiers to use alongside the resident red and white troopers.

As the lift skid to a halt, the pair stepped out and made their way to where the 104th were staying.

—-------

The slow and deliberate thump of footsteps sounded. Followed by the scrape of something metallic being dragged across the floor.

The man held his breath, hands clamped over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him as the attackers' steps sounded ever closer.

Suddenly all noises came to a halt, and the man could do nothing but wait… Until–

“Booooook, come on it’s going to be morning by the time you put that ‘pad down, vod,” Boost whined as he clipped his now polished vambrace back into place.

The strategist locked his datapad reluctantly and sighed. His perfectly crafted world for his story in his mind had now officially been shattered at the interruption. Can’t get a minute's peace in this place. A heavy weight fell onto the mattress next to him, causing the clone to bounce slightly.

“Yeah Bookworm, we want some attention for a change,” Two-Pint teased, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder and yanking him into his side for a crushing hug.

Book scowled as he fought the stronger man for his freedom, his copper hair ending up more than a little ruffled as he broke away with a half-hearted frown. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The heavy gunner grinned. “I do.”

“Come on short-ass, be nice,” Boost challenged with a mischievous smirk, which only widened at Two-Pint’s pout at his own nickname. Serves him right, Book thought smugly.

“Alright alright, reign it in you lot,” Wolffe chided as he made his presence known with a humoured Commander Straun standing at his side.

“Commanders! Perfect timing,” Sinker called out pleasantly as he pulled his gloves on.

With one last ruffle of Book’s hair, TP and Boost moved away to find their boots. The strategist carded a hand through his red curls to try and tame them while his Jedi Commander walked over to take TP’s spot at his side.

The Pantoran bumped his shoulder lightly with her own and gave him a small smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a thriller novel.” He tried not to sound too deflated, but he couldn’t help it. He loved reading, but moments of jabs with his brothers served to remind him that he was a bit of an outlier in their group. He wasn’t crazy about weapons like TP and Cloud, or strong like Boost and Sinker. Instead he favoured learning and reading as his method of developing his skills as a soldier. Book knew his squad didn’t mean anything by their teasing; it was their way of showing that they cared, but even still, it did a good job of highlighting just how different he was sometimes.

Of course, the Jedi next to him was somehow able to figure all this out without him even having to utter a word. With a gentle look in her eyes behind her lenses, she placed a blue hand at his shoulder bell. “You know, as much as the ‘Pack love to wind you up, your interests are what make you you Book. Your brothers would never want you to change or be ashamed of them. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… I know.” He gave a small smile of thanks. Because he did know. But it was nice to have the reminder every now and then he supposed.

Seemingly content that she’d eased his worries, the Jedi looked up at the rest of the group. Their previously battle-worn armour had been cleaned and polished, not the the point of shininess as each scrape and scuff ingrained in the plastoid was a sign of each battle survived, but clean enough to not be caked with the mud and blood of their last campaign.

“So Sinker, you called?” Issa questioned as she caught the sergeant’s eye.

“Yeah, we’re going out sir, and you’re coming with.”

Still sitting next to Book, Issa sighed. “Guys we went over this-”

“Yeah but we’ve decided to overrule you, so there you have it,” Boost explained, leaving no room for argument.

“We want you to come along, Commander. It’ll be fun. You’re one of us anyway. Your insides were christened with TP’s brew,” Cloud added with a soft smile.

Smirking, Issa replied. “Oh so there is a reward for suffering through that.”

The heavy gunner in question somehow managed to pout even harder, which given his intimidating exterior, only served to make the room chuckle. “Hey! Don’t you all come crying to me when you want a night to unwind.”

“We’re kidding ‘Pint.” Sinker huffed as he threw his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a loose headlock.

Eventually the Wolfpack stopped rough housing and were ready to paint the town red, as it were.

—---

79’s was a beacon of life. Neon boards decorated the walls while the sound of laughter and chatter wove through the notes of the heavy bass music reverberating through the venue. The dance floor was already packed, clones and natborns alike dancing their troubles away, connecting with new souls as their inhibitions faded and bodies moved to the beat. At the bar, a group of pilots were sharing a round of shots while a squad of commandos in their heavy duty armour took quiet sanctuary in a booth in the corner, flirting with the beings who’d captured their attention.

Issa couldn’t quite believe that the Republic was providing such a normal place for the troopers to unwind. I suppose it’s the least they can do. After all, they are heroes fighting for the civilians across the galaxy, protecting their way of life.

As the Wolfpack made their way towards an empty table, Issa noticed a few of the patrons whispering as they passed. While most of 79’s was full of plain white armour, she supposed a maroon, wolf-stylised commander and Pantoran Jedi were a bit of a giveaway as to which battalion they were. It seemed their success on Antar 4 had been passed through the other ranks.

Next to her, Boost nudged her with his elbow, smirking. “How’s it feel to be famous, Commander?”

“Famous is a bit of a stretch.” Issa rolled her eyes at the sergeant who chuckled next to her.

“I don’t think that’ll be our last big win, so you best start getting used to it.”

Once the group had settled in their spot, Issa had offered to get the troopers their first round of drinks, allowing them to relax for a moment while she navigated the sea of bodies to reach the bar. After finally clearing a space for herself to lean forwards, the Pantoran drummed her fingers on the neon surface as she waited to be served. She was minding her own business until the being next to her gave her a nudge, knocking the Jedi off balance. Frustrated at the person’s lack of awareness, she spun around to confront them. That was her plan at least, but unfortunately the person she came face to face to made her pause, her fiery words dying on her tongue.

“Quin? What are you doing here?” Issa breathed.

There he was, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master and Shadow, back from his extended mission like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year without a word. It’d been a while, but it appeared his flare for the dramatic hadn’t changed.

“Issa! I was supposed to meet Aayla but she got stuck doing General things, so I stayed for the free booze and pleasant scenery. Fancy seeing you here.” His honesty and cheeky smile were so familiar that it nearly made her heart ache. It’d been too long since she’d last had a chance to spend time with her friend and despite all of his bravado, Issa had missed him dearly. He looked well, a few new scars littered his bare upper arms and his dreadlocks had grown, extending to his jawline, but he was in one piece. A weight the Pantoran didn’t know she had been carrying suddenly lightened, and she smiled fondly at the Kiffar’s antics.

“The drinks aren’t free for you, you know,” she chided.

“Ah but surely they’ll have to take pity on a poor religious figure like me. Remember young Padawan, Jedi can have no attachments, which means no material items, which means no credits to buy those items, which means free watered-down Corellian ale,” Vos explained while lifting his drink in the air in a ‘cheers’ motion before taking a satisfied sip.

“That’s not how that works, and you’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Quin replied with a beaming smile of pride.

Without another word, Issa launched herself at the man, locking her arms tightly around his neck and catching him by surprise. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Issa felt it as Quinlan relaxed in her hold and wrapped his own glove-clad arms around her middle, smiling into her shoulder. “Missed you too, kid.”

Issa was finally able to place her order and while she waited, she spent the time catching up with the man she’d come to look up to as a brother. His mission had been a success, as they always were, and he managed to take down a critical drug ring in the outskirts of the Mid-Rim.

Smiling with pride, Issa nudged the man beside her. “Sounds like another job well done.”

“Yeah, it went about as well as the Council would allow.” The end of his sentence was slightly muffled as he lifted his glass to his lips, but Issa heard him all the same.

She took a moment, trying to unpick the meaning hidden in Quin’s words. “The Council? I thought you were heading this as a Shadow?”

“Let’s just say if it was up to me, I’d still be out there.”

“Why?” Issa’s brows were furrowed as she tried to navigate Quinlan’s vague hints.

The Shadow Jedi seemed to have noticed her questioning look and snapped out of his mood with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Let’s talk about something else. How’s the war going, Commander?”

His sudden change of topics perplexed Issa. Whatever Vos found at the end of his assignment had him on edge, and seemed to be straining his already tenuous relationship with some members of the council. Not wanting to spark a debate about the politics of the Order at that moment, Issa let him off the hook for now and launched into her experiences of leading an army for the past month.

“You’ll have to come meet the Wolfpack. They’ve heard all about you.”

“All flattering things I presume.” Just as Issa went to reply, a light began blinking on Quin’s forearm, pulling his attention. “Ah I better get this, but I’ll see you over there in a bit.”

While Vos trudged through the many bodies to an exit, a striking Mirialan placed a tray of drinks in front of her, which Issa took with a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender before using all her concentration to avoid spilling the ale as she finally reached the 104th’s table for the evening.

Now that everyone had a drink in hand, the Pantoran allowed herself the chance to relax, sliding into the spot Sinker had made for her at the edge of the booth, facing Wolffe across the other side of the table. His permanent frown was unsurprisingly still in place, but it was slightly softer than usual which was nice to see. This may be as relaxed as I'll ever see him.

After a round of ‘cheers’ and the first few sips of their drinks, they asked about Quin after having seen the two of them during their reunion.

“Do all Jedi make fashion choices alarmingly unsuitable for battlefields?” Wolffe cut in sarcastically, making Issa bark out a laugh she wasn’t expecting, nearly choking on her drink.

“Actually if Quin had his way, he would probably rather have a lot more of himself on display, but he needs things like the gloves he wears to prevent accidental use of his Psychometry. It’s a power that lets him see impressions or events tied to an object based on who’s touched or used it previously. As you can imagine, that can get quite invasive quite quickly.”

“Woah, can you do that?”

“Unfortunately not. Jedi all have similar basic skill sets, the standard things we’re taught at the temple, but some of us excel further in some areas or are born with special abilities. Quin was born with Psychometry. It’s a common gift among Kiffars, and it runs in his family. He’s grown incredibly skilled in it, but it can be quite overwhelming at times, hence the gloves. While psychometry is one example, some Jedi have been known to have deep connections with animals, plants, space matter and even technology, making them easier to read or utilise with the Force.”

“Have you got a fancy skill, sir?”

“I’ve always been quite good at illusions. In fact it’ll probably start to come in handy during the war so I’ve been working with Master Plo on pushing my skills a bit quicker than we normally would.”

Wolffe raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you mean by illusions?”

“Care to be a volunteer and find out?” At Issa’s challenge and smirk, Wolffe scoffed.

“Fine.” He was clearly intrigued but trying his damndest not to show it. The Jedi humoured him and took his feigned indifference as consent for her demonstration.

Issa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Using all her concentration, she manipulated the molecules around her using the Force, picturing as each one shifted and changed to mimic the image she set in her mind. As she let the air out of her lungs, she allowed her eyes to flutter open once more and took in the clones surrounding her.

“No way.”

Issa spared a look down at herself, and sure enough, she was clad in white and maroon plastoid, the skin of her hands no longer blue, but a beautiful tan.

“That’s creepy, two Wolffes is the stuff of nightmares, turn it off!” Two-Pint squealed as he tried to hide behind Book, who rolled his eyes at the heavy gunner.

Vos chose that moment to slide into the Wolfpack’s booth, smirking and elbowing Issa in her side, breaking her concentration and shattering the illusion. “I see you’re doing your-” Quin paused to do a little waggle of his fingers, “-magic show.”

Huffing, Issa shoved the Kiffar back, making him chuckle and throw an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah well we can’t all read emotions like you. Gotta find my ways to be useful somehow.”

Quin then infuriatingly chose that moment to ruffle her hair, making her bristle slightly in annoyance as her troopers chuckled, Wolffe notably was taking great joy in her embarrassment at the hands of the Shadow as he smirked slightly behind his glass.

“When I tell you guys that your commander got us into some trouble over the years at the temple using those little tricks of hers.”

“Ha! I knew I liked you sir!” Two-Pint exclaimed with a beaming grin.

Soon introductions were made, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant comradery with the Wolfpack and Vos. Issa realised now that she’d been worried about nothing. Spending an evening with her troopers hadn’t seemed to have stopped them from being able to enjoy themselves and relax, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy spending her free time hanging out with them. They were a fun group; even Wolffe had gradually loosened up ever so slightly as the night dragged on, matching the boisterous energy of his brothers around him as they joked and wound each other up.

It’s nice to see.

—----

Much to Book’s dismay, the Wolfpack and two Jedi had eventually gravitated to the dance floor as the alcohol in their system began to do its work. The strategist had cut himself off a few drinks prior to that, not interested in losing control of himself that evening. Subtly, Book had managed to excuse himself from his dancing battalion, giving him the chance to escape to the sanctuary of the bar where he could take a moment to himself. He even managed to snag an empty stool, pulling himself up and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the bartenders so he could place his order. Unfortunately, it was still fairly busy, so he was left to his own devices for a moment. To keep himself occupied, he spent his time eyeing up the liquor on the back shelf of the bar and trying to guess if he could name each luminous bottle. He’d definitely read up on enough world exports by now to be able to identify most of them, so he began cataloguing each spirit quietly to himself as he waited.

For not the first time that day, the peace in his mind was once again shattered, but instead of the cause being his squad, it was the result of a loud crash of a server droid clattering into one of the beer taps. Every being in the vicinity scattered in fear of being drenched as the tap went up in a dramatic fountain display, leaving the now damp Mirialan bartender to deal with the situation.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” The bartender cursed as the battered ale tap continued to spew everywhere despite them attempting to use their hands to stop the spray. Unfortunately, the tactic only served to push the liquid to the floor as opposed to up in the air.

Looking around and noticing that no one was coming to help, Book pushed off of his stool and walked over to the scene.

“Excuse me, do you-”

“Look I’ll serve you in a sec, can’t you see i’m a bit busy?” the Mirialan snapped, huffing a breath to try and move their damp claret fringe from where it had fallen across their face. The sheer look of concentration as they attempted to fix their predicament caused the black geometric facial tattoos trailing down the centre of their forehead to crease between their brows. Book knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he dared to think that the bartender looked rather cute while flustered.

No, that is not helpful right now. Wise up, Trooper. Book cleared his throat, gearing himself up to try again. “Um, sorry, I was just going to offer some assistance. Your method of stopping the leak isn’t the most efficient. I’m happy to help.”

Those bright green eyes snapped up to his face, and he froze under the sharp gaze. Oh Maker I’ve stuck my foot in it haven’t I?

After a few dragging seconds, they finally relented, nodding behind them towards a cupboard. “Fine, there’s a wrench in there. Once you’re back we can get this sealed off and I’ll start cleaning up this mess.”

Book nodded and set about getting the tool as suggested. He ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the bartender as he tried to get the pump to seal off while they protected his face from being sprayed with alcohol.

It seemed they made a rather good team as after a few seconds of fiddling, Book managed to stop the flow, making the Mirialan sag in relief as they were finally free to move once again. “Thank the Maker for that… and you, I guess. What’s your name, Trooper?”

“Oh, uh Book, and you are…”

“Jae, Jae Tevv.” They reached a soaked hand out towards him before realising what they’d done and retracting with a nervous chuckle. “So Book, huh? How’d you manage to end up with a name like that?”

“It’s unfortunately very simple. I always had my head in a book while growing up on Kamino.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed. What kind of books? I’m always looking for some new things to add to my reading list.” Suddenly, Book found himself engaged in the most wonderful conversation about literature as the two of them fell into the flow of working as a team to fix the mess from the broken tap. Jae was incredibly well-read, enjoying a variety of genres that they spoke about with a deep passion. Book was pretty sure he had a dopey smile on his face, but Jae’s enthusiasm was infectious, so who could blame him? He could listen to them talk for hours, their hands gesturing wildly, eyes alight with excitement as they relieved one of their favourite romance novels, clearly excited to finally be able to discuss the story with another reader.

All too soon, the mess was cleaned and Book found himself running out of machinery behind the bar that he could tinker with to prolong their conversation. With a sigh, he slid the wrench back into the borrowed tool box and extended a hand to Jae to help them back to their feet from where they were scrubbing the floor.

“Thank you, Book. Both for the help and the conversation. I think I've finally met my reading match,” Jae said with a kind smile. “Now that the tap’s working again, can I buy you a drink as a thank you, something a bit more upmarket than that cheap beer the Republic is feeding you boys?”

“Ah there’s no need to thank me. Plus I best stop with the drinks now. Someone has to make sure my battalion gets home in one piece, and something tells me it won’t be my commanders.” Book spared a pointed look at his two superiors. Issa was on the dance floor with General Vos, Two-Pint, Sinker, Cloud and Boost, giggling and dancing without a care in the world, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her cup. Wolffe was seated a few tables away with one human and one Zabrak woman hanging off each arm as the three of them sank a shot each before he sat back and let the two shower him with attention. Jae followed his eyes and chuckled warmly.

“Well… If not a drink, how about dinner?” Their deep emerald eyes sparkled with the offer, making Book swallow nervously as his stomach fluttered. When did my collar get so tight?

“Uh, dinner?” he choked out.

“Yeah, dinner. Give you a chance to eat something that isn’t rations maybe. My treat, I can cook us up something.”

Book felt his face flush bright red as he averted his eyes. “Dinner. Right… yes. Dinner is good. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Jae beamed at him before grabbing his datapad out of his hands and tapping something into the notes. “Great, well, here’s my comm frequency. Drop me a message next time you’re planet-side, or if you have any more books you’d like to recommend in the meantime.”

“Yes… I'll definitely do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Book.” And just when Book thought he couldn’t get anymore flustered, Jae leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. That was the moment Book’s brain finally short-circuited. “Stay safe out there, I'm holding you to that dinner.”

Jae disappeared across the bar, set on a mission to serve the backed-up requests of orders, leaving Book standing there like a tooka in the headlights as his hand lifted up to ghost over his cheek where Jae had kissed him.

—

It was 0300 by the time Book decided to corral his brothers, Jedi, and apparently General Vos. The Wolfpack and friends collectively stumbled out of the front of 79’s, giggling amongst themselves as TP told another Maker-awful joke.

As the laughter died down, Issa strolled up next to Book and swung an arm over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief, and the strategist shook his head in anticipation. “Soooo Book, where did you run off too?”

To his right, Sinker crept up and also threw an arm around him, officially trapping him for their questioning. “Did my eyes decei-” Sinker’s question was abruptly interrupted by a chest-shattering hiccup, “...ow… anyway, did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you talking to that cute bartender?” The silver-haired clone waggled his eyebrows, making the Pantoran to Book’s left cackle loudly in his ear.

“Well actually, I was. And um, I think… I think I’m going on a date?”

At his admission, the whole group paused and spun around to face him. Book felt his face begin to heat under their teasing gaze, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, TP launched himself at him to crush the slighter clone in an almighty hug, knocking his previous two captors aside.

“Look at my little Bookworm, all grown up, going out on dates. It’s so karking cute it nearly brings a tear to my eye,” TP announced loudly while clutching Book to his side and wiping fake tears from his face, making the strategist flush with embarrassment as he shoved the heavy gunner off.

Everyone extended their congratulations to Book and finally continued on their way back to the barracks. As they walked the lower levels, Book chanced a look up to the sky above, littered with the shimmering lights of speeders flying in all directions, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face until his cheeks hurt. Despite the cheeky comments, Book felt everyone’s genuine excitement and happiness for him which warmed his heart, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was more than just a soldier bred to die on the battlefield. Because surely no cannon fodder could feel the sheer peace he felt in his chest at that moment.

—--------

Finally they reached the GAR HQ, and Quin cheerily went to bid them all a goodnight. But as he turned to Issa, his demeanour changed slightly. Issa had seen that look before during her years growing up at the temple. He was plotting something, and she had a bad feeling about just what was going on in his head.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With an air of nonchalance, Quin shrugged and lifted his hand to examine his finger nails before answering. “Do you remember that time you broke Obi-Wan’s favourite tea pot?”

The question sent a wave of guilt coursing through Issa, bringing the memory alive in her mind as she tried with all her might to push it away. It was years ago. She’d been trying to do something nice for Plo as Master Fisto had let it slip that the Kel Dor’s birthday was coming up. So Issa had decided that she’d try and make her Master his favourite tea as a surprise. She knew Obi-Wan had a full set that he brought out when he had people over, and she would’ve asked his permission but of course the young council member was stuck in the same meetings for the day as Plo. So, she’d made the decision to borrow it and leave a note, thinking Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. But as she went to leave his quarters, she tripped and couldn’t get her hands out from under the tray quick enough to use the force to catch the fragile items, leaving her to watch as they hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. She’ll never forget the image of Obi-Wan’s sad blue eyes as he cleaned the broken porcelain from his floor later that day.

The Pantoran cringed. “You know I do.”

“Well, you know how I covered for you and got a twenty minute lecture on my lack of appreciation for other people’s property and you said, and I quote,” Quin paused to clear his throat before his voice changed to a higher pitch, attempting to mimic Issa. “Oh Quin, my hero. Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“That’s not verbatim and I do not sound like that,” Issa huffed.

“Well the gist is there. The point is, I’m looking to cash in that favour. I know I said my mission is over and the council is moving me on to another problem, which is great and all, but I don’t think my job on this one is done just yet.”

“Well, did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly happy with me. Apparently because of the war we’re spread thin, and they need me to move on. I’ve gone against their word one too many times now, so they’re watching me like a Blood Eagle this time. Listen there’s a guy on the lower levels here, level 1313. He’s got connections to the Narkabb family and there’s been rumours that the crime lord’s cousin is looking to take over while there’s a power vacuum. I just need you to go down there and find out if that’s true so I can put it back on the council’s radar for someone else to pick up.”

“Maker Quin, that’s a big ask. Plus I don’t exactly want to go around pissing off the council. The same council where my Master, who is freakishly good at telling when I'm lying, is a member.”

“Yeah well, you do have the sabacc face of a Tooka in Plo’s defence,” Quin conceded with a chuckle, before shaking himself and guiding the conversation back on topic. “But seriously Issa, this information could help us save some lives later down the line. The Narkabb family is bad news, and if they’re coming back with a vengeance. People are going to pay and it won’t be me; it’ll be innocent people.”

His words were starting to affect her, wearing down her resolve. “Surely there’s someone better suited for this. Have you not heard back from Desh yet on when he’s coming home?”

Quin sobered for a moment at the mention of his closest friend. “I still can’t get hold of him,” he admitted with a frown that looked far too out of place for the usually easy-going Jedi. The admission that Desh was still out there alone, his status unknown, sat heavily on Issa’s chest.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you for this if I thought I had any other option,” Vos insisted.

Issa gnawed at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. She’d never gone against the council’s wishes before. There’s rules and hierarchy in place for a reason. But the urgency in Vos’s dark eyes was tearing at her logic. This means a lot to him, to save the people this family has hurt.

I’m so going to regret this in the morning.

“Ugh, fine, I'll do it. But I swear if I go down in front of the council for this Quin-”

“Kid, you won’t, I promise. I’ve got you covered. You're a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Issa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man before her. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“When you stop being younger than me maybe.” Quin smirked at her before sweeping her up in a hug, mumbling his thanks again into her shoulder.

The pair bid each other goodbye and Issa jogged to catch up with her troops. The Pantoran just managed to join the clones in the lift before the doors sealed shut.

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath as she tilted her head back against the durasteel of the lift and closed her eyes.

Maker’s sake, Quin. It’s been nearly ten years since the teapot incident, I can’t believe he’s been sitting on that for so long.

Next to her, Issa heard the small clang as one of the troopers copied her stance. Cloud quietly leaned a few centimetres closer before whispering. “Hey, everything okay? You seem tense.”

The quiet ones are always the most observant, Issa thought fondly.

“Yeah Cloud, I’m good. It’s just been a long day.” She didn’t expand further and he didn’t push, which Issa was beyond thankful for. The two of them stood in companionable silence as they observed the rest of the Wolfpack chatting amongst themselves while the lift continued to plummet down floor after floor to their accommodation.

The troopers had been kind enough to provide her one of their spare bunks for the night to save her having to sneak back through the temple in her inebriated state. Gracelessly, Issa nosed-dived into her bed for the evening, all background noise falling away as she settled into the hard mattress and flat pillow. As the dark bliss of sleep closed in around her, a final thought drifted through her mind, in particular an image of her Master’s amused, all-knowing look earlier that day when Sinker had first called. Issa smirked to herself at the reminder.

He knows me too well.

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One Step at a Time - Part 6

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A/N: As always, thank you to my outstanding beta-reader @teletraan-meets-jarvis for helping me out with this chapter! :)

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: language, graphic injury, character death

Word Count: 9.4k words

The first week passed almost blissfully in comparison to everything else they’d experienced, and the Ayyshu family fell into a routine. Chuck would rise before the sun, quietly slipping on his work clothes, face covering and goggles, and boots before waking up Arni and creeping out of the ship, trying not to wake Nita. He’d walk a couple of kilometers to the small settlement in the crisp morning air, reaching the common house just as the sun would crest the horizon. He’d start by wiping down the tables from the night before and straightening the chairs and benches before checking in with Ry for the harder tasks.

Most mornings, Oksann would be in already, shuffling around in the back, cooking the day’s bone broth as Ry read her datapad, sipping a cup of tea. The Togruta would give him a soft smile in greeting when she appeared while her partner would mostly ignore him, usually only acknowledging his arrival by sliding the wash rag towards him on the counter so that he could begin wiping down tables for the day. They would occasionally pepper each other with trivial questions, but they normally steered clear of anything too personal. Chuckles hadn’t had much time to make many friends outside of his brothers during the war, but despite Ry’s cutting retorts and nearly perpetual glares, he suspected this was the closest he’d come in a while. Even though he was certain her tough exterior was meant to be a deterrent, there was something about it he found endearing.

She reminds me of Sticks. And Stones. And a few others.

At the start of his second week of employment, Arni’s ankle had healed enough to walk on, so he brought the younglings with him to work. He’d been bringing home extra bone broth at the end of the day for them to eat, but Ry had suggested he bring them by to get it when it was still hot at some point.

“What will happen after we eat?” Nita asked as they had gotten ready to leave that morning.

“If you stay in the common house, you’ll sit quietly until I’m done with work. If you do want to go explore, you don’t wander far, and you take the comm in case of an emergency.”

“Will there be snacks?”

“You’re being fed breakfast, Nita.”

“That’s not a snack.”

Arni grinned. “I’ll pack some snacks.” Nita cheered.

The early morning air was crisp as they set out, trekking towards the small settlement in the new day's light. Arni walked next to Chuckles while Nita skipped ahead, picking at the wildflowers that grew along the roadside. Chuckles had noticed a collection of flowers starting to accumulate around the ship, and he smiled to himself under his face mask as Nita inspected a small orange bloom before plucking it, carrying it back to Arni.

“What do you think this one is?”

Arni inspected the flower, turning the delicate blossom in the sunlight while Nita hovered at their side. The flower had a bright pink set of pistil and stamens that protruded from the center of the blossom, waving lightly in the breeze. Arni studied the leaves on the stalk as well before carefully tucking it into a pouch at their waist. “Dunno. Haven’t seen that one before. We can look it up when we get to the common house.”

Along with Nita’s flower collection, Arni had been accruing a steady stream of sketches. They’d managed to find some flimsi and a pencil tucked away in a corner cabinet on the ship, and while there hadn’t been much, they’d covered the front and back of each piece with drawings and notes about the flowers Nita brought to them, sometimes pressing some of their more treasured blossoms between the pages. Chuckles had found some of the drawings once, all laid out on the small table where they ate their meals. There were sketches of flowers and creatures, but there were also drawings of him, slumped in the pilot's chair asleep. His favorite page that he'd found was one that included notes on a light purple lily that the younglings had found nearby. Arni had taken meticulous notes about it, but the drawing was what Chuck liked the most. It showed Nita squatting down, her nose pressed into the blossom as the ribbons in her hair fluttered in the wind. Arni had recorded Nita’s observations in quotes under the drawing: “Very pretty but smells like farts.” He'd stared at the picture for a few minutes, smiling to himself before he set it back where he'd found it. Now, he could see the last few blank sheets of flimsi tucked under Arni’s arm along with a few sketches, the pencil that was almost a nub gripped tightly between their fingers.

“Chuckles, I’m tired.”

He stopped, finding Nita’s wide eyes staring up at him expectantly. “We’ve only gone a klick, kid,” he teased.

She sighed dramatically. “I’ve been running a lot.”

Probably doubled the distance just collecting flowers, he thought with amusement.

“He’s just Chuck now, remember?” Arni reminded. Nita wrinkled her nose at the reminder.

“I still don’t get why.”

Chuckles knelt down, pulling her onto his back. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he scooped up under her legs, carrying her piggyback. “Chuckles is a weird name, and clones are known for having weird names,” he explained. “We can’t let people know I’m a clone. Just like they can’t know you two are Jedi. Got it?”

“But you said Ry and Oksann are nice.”

“They are, but if they know stuff like that, it can put them in danger too. It’s better to keep everyone safe and have it be our secret. That way, if they ever get asked, they don’t have to lie for us.”

“Ok.” Nita appeared to be mostly satisfied with that answer. Chuck gave her knees a reassuring squeeze.

“How’s the wrist today honey?”

Nita wiggled her fingers. “Still sore. And itchy. Do I really gotta keep this thing on?”

“Probably for another week or two. Sorry kiddo. Gotta make sure it heals up ok.”

Nita huffed in frustration, resting her chin on top of Chuckles’s head.

A half an hour later, they made it to the common house. Chuckles carefully helped Nita down, taking her hand as they stepped inside. Ry was leaning against the counter as always, her sharp gaze flicking up at the sound of their footsteps, but when she saw the two younglings, her expression softened. Setting down her datapad, she came around the counter and squatted down in front of them.

“And who might you two be?”

“Arni,” the Twi’lek replied softly.

“And I’m Nita,” the tiny Pantoran stated proudly.

Ry smiled at the two of them, and Chuckles was struck by how gentle she seemed in the moment, a far cry from the sarcastic employer he’d become accustomed to.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Ry said. “Your dad’s been telling me a bit about you, but I was eager to meet you both in person.”

The parental term made both younglings look up at Chuckles, and he knew Ry saw. She doesn’t miss anything. Quickly, he shuffled them both forward. “Why don’t the two of you go sit at that corner table while I help Ry get things straightened up?”

He knew Ry was watching him carefully with a questioning look until a shuffling behind them made her turn. Oksann was emerging from the back with a stack of clean glasses cradled in her arms. She didn’t appear to notice the visitors for a few seconds, but after a few moments, her eyes finally made their way over to Arni and Nita, and a massive smile broke across her face when she noticed their presence. Nita waved shyly at her, and she waved back. Arni helped Nita into a chair before hesitantly approaching the counter.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but could we get some water, please?”

Chuckles stared at them slack-jawed, not due to the question, but because they had signed it in addition to expressing it verbally.

“You know how to sign?” he asked incredulously.

Arni shrugged. “I told you. I like languages.”

Chuckles huffed a laugh. “You did.” He felt a warm pride blossom in his chest that he couldn’t identify the source of, but it became even more intense as he noted the look on Oksann’s face. The Togruta’s eyes were shining, her fingers covering her mouth for a few moments before she began signing back excitedly at Arni. The young Twi’lek was hesitant at first, clearly not as fluent as Oksann, but the Togruta smiled warmly, putting the youngling at ease. Ry tapped her on the shoulder, signing a few things at her before she reached for two of the clean glasses. Oksann looked at Arni, who nodded excitedly. The Togrutan woman came around from behind the counter, going to sit with the two younglings at their table as Ry filled the glasses. Her eyes settled on Chuckles as the water piped into the glasses, leaving a cool film of condensation on the outside.

“So you gonna tell me who these kids really are?”

He turned to stare at her. “They’re my kids. I told you-”

“Yeah, yeah, adopted. So you said. But you don’t know much about them, Chuck.”

His mind was racing as he examined Ry through his goggles.

Shoulders relaxed. Tone isn’t accusing. But can I trust her? It’d be a relief to tell her.

But she’s not Chirrut. Or Baze. And we’d only be putting her in danger, even if she is trustworthy.

He sighed, wetting his lips under his mask. “We haven’t been a family for long.”

“Clearly.” The tone was less biting than normal, but still not enough to totally tear his guard down.

“They… they lost their families at the end of the war. As everything came to an end, their settlement was destroyed. They watched everyone they knew and cared for die. I was there and managed to get them out. Promised to look after them.” He paused. “It was an easy decision. I grew up with several brothers, but… it always seemed like our family was growing. Newcomers would arrive, we’d take them under our wings, and they’d become a part of our family. It might sound strange to just take in two kids without much hesitation, but I just couldn’t just leave them on their own.”

He finally met Ry’s eyes again, but the expression held within them had shifted to something very distant. Her amethyst irises flicked over his face, as though she was trying to read his expression underneath his mask and goggles before she nodded. “A lot was lost during the war.” Her voice was noticeably quieter.

Chuckles picked up the rag, rubbing it along the counter next to her, sweeping off some dust that had gathered during the night. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked softly.

Ry’s eyes snapped to meet his behind his goggles, almost as if she was gauging whether or not he was serious. He shrugged.

“Sometimes talking helps.”

Ry nodded, putting the two glasses of water down on the counter and watching Oksann and the younglings for a moment before she took a deep breath.

“My home was a small moon near Mygeeto. It didn’t even have an official name. But to those that settled there, it was home. Until it wasn’t.” Her gaze grew distant again, her fingers beginning to nervously drum on the countertop. “There were four major battles at Mygeeto during the war. My home was annihilated during the first one. It was early on, when the Republic was clearly trying to determine where the Separatist strongholds were. They must have assumed they’d be on our moon, for whatever reason. And they firebombed our village. I’ll never forget the sound of the fighters as they flew by overhead while flames and smoke and screams erupted around me. And then came the silence, and that was unimaginably worse.”

Chuck gripped the rag harder, his hands shaking slightly. He hadn’t been on that campaign, but he had known pilots who had flown it. Crater had been among them before receiving his promotion. He was certain his former captain had never known this side of the story, and Chuckles was briefly glad he was dead and would never discover the truth.

This would have killed him. He didn’t know. Or he’d have never gone through with it.

Right?

Ry was so lost in the memory she didn’t appear to notice Chuckles’s internal struggle. She huffed a dry laugh. “We were nothing more than a world to be conquered, a speck to be wiped off the map.” It was then Chuckles noted the scars on her left forearm, poking out from beneath her rolled up sleeves. His stomach turned as he realized what they were: burn scars. His eyes trailed up to the collar of her shirt, and sure enough, just barely visible when her collar shifted, a matching set of scarring.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“You didn’t do it,” she replied.

But I might have. A few months after that battle, Crater was promoted, and I joined his newly formed combat wing. It could have been us bombing them without ever knowing.

Ry exhaled sharply as if she were coming out of a trance. “Sorry to bring the mood down.” Before Chuck could respond, she grabbed the two glasses of water, delivering them to the younglings before she disappeared into the back room, presumably to continue preparations for the day. Chuckles took a few more moments to gather himself before he continued wiping down tables, Chirrut's words echoing in his mind.

Everyone thinks they’re on the right side in a war, that their reasoning is the most righteous.

But maybe ours wasn't.

---

Over the next few weeks, Chuckles made a habit of bringing the two younglings in to work with him a few times a week. He was surprised with how quickly Nita and Arni took to Ry and Oksann. Watching their interactions brought a smile to Chuckles's face under his mask. When Nita’s wrist finally was healed enough to remove the splint, she practically skipped the entire way to the common house to show off her healed joint, which Ry and Oksann doted on an adequate amount. Even Arni began to open up, smiling more and even laughing out loud on several instances at something Oksann signed to them. It was a kindness that had been absent in all of their lives since the end of the war, but something he felt the two younglings deserved more than anything.

On days they didn't go to the common house, Arni and Nita stayed with the ship. Chuckles had managed to track down a trader with the right components to fix the ramp, and Arni had it working a few weeks after the crash. They had also set up a perimeter around the ship that was motion-activated and also made a few additional repairs around the freighter, fixing lights that failed or scraping carbon scoring off the exterior. When they weren't working on the ship, Arni continued studying and cataloguing every bit of Sorgan's flora and fauna that they could find. They had been shy about their artwork at first, but after a few times at the common house, Chuckles noted they were more excited to bring their sketches, gathering their latest drawings to show Oksann. When Chuckles asked them about it, they told him that Oksann was teaching them about the different flowers and how to sign their names. On one occasion, when they arrived, Oksann was waiting with a small parcel that she handed to Arni. When the young Twi'lek opened it, they found a dark green leather bound journal and a small pack of charcoal and colored pencils. Their eyes had lit up as they signed their appreciation, and Oksann had smiled back at them before taking the two kids outside with her to find some subjects to draw.

Ry watched them go, nudging Chuckles in the shoulder with hers. "They're good kids, you know."

"I know. They've taken quite a liking to Oksann."

Ry laughed. "Well, Oks is by far the more likeable of the two of us. Still can't figure out for the life of me why she agreed to marry me."

Chuck looked at her. "You never told me you two were married."

Ry shrugged. "You didn't ask."

"Didn't know to. You said you don't like talking about your personal life."

"I don't. But you seem alright, for what it's worth. I figure you're sharing your family with us, so maybe you knowing a little about ours isn't the end of the galaxy."

He huffed out a laugh. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Ry."

"That's what they tell me."

Things were getting easier between the two of them, and while Ry was still distant, Chuckles appreciated her friendship in whatever form it took. He still carried guilt in his stomach about what had happened to her home and what part his brothers had played in it, but in his mind, that guilt was what kept him on his toes, ensuring he never became too comfortable around her.

She can never find out what I am. She'd never forgive me. And it would only put her in danger.

But as the weeks passed, he found the urge to confide in her growing, particularly as she opened up more and more to him.

"Ten," she said one evening as she tossed the rag at him to wipe down the tables after the last patrons had finished eating.

"What?"

"Arni is ten. And Nita is five."

He stared at her. "That can't be right. Nita, sure, but Arni can't be only ten. You've heard the kid talk."

Ry shrugged. "That's what they told Oks yesterday apparently. From what she said, it seems the kid is very worried they’ll be seen as not as competent if you find out how old they are. It sounds like it was a problem with their family growing up."

Chuck stood in stunned silence, absently wrapping the rag around his hand. "They never told me," he said quietly.

"Did you ask?"

His shoulders slumped. "No. Just assumed."

Ry leaned on her elbows on the counter. "You know, you should really ask them more about themselves. Especially since you're their adoptive… father? Uncle? Whatever."

Chuck wiped at a small puddle of bone broth someone had left on the table nearest him. "I'm afraid to ask them too much about their past. I don't want to press in case the memories are painful for them."

Ry nodded, resting her chin on the heel of her palm as she watched him. "Maybe. But you'll never know unless you ask. In my experience, the happy memories are worth reliving and talking about. That's how you keep the ones you love alive."

"That's true for us, but we're adults. They're just kids, and they've lived through some absolutely awful stuff. I just… " His voice trailed off.

"Give them a bit of credit, Chuck. I know you want to protect them, but it shouldn't be at the expense of knowing who they are. You wanna be a family? Rip the bandage off. They care about you, and from what it sounds like, I think it would take some weight off of Arni if you were more open with them. They want you to think they've got all the answers, but that's a lot for a kid to put on themselves. Might be a good thing if you took some of that pressure off."

"I don't… I didn't mean to make them feel like that."

"I know that. Arni just wants your approval. So make sure they know they've got it." Reaching over, she squeezed his shoulder. "It's very obvious you care for those kids. And it's also obvious that the three of you are still figuring things out. You're doing alright. Just gotta keep learning and taking advice from your very wise and all-knowing boss."

Chuck let out a snort of a laugh. "If you say so, oh Sage One."

Ry rolled her eyes in response, moving to gather the last of the empty bowls from a table. Just then, Chuckles felt a shudder in his pocket and heard the quiet beeping of the comm Arni had fashioned for him.

Weird time for the kid to be messaging. They know I'll be heading home soon. Maybe Nita’s out of snacks again.

The words he read on the screen sent his stomach hurtling into his boots and adrenaline thrumming into his system.

HELP. KLATOOINIAN.

Blood pounded in Chuckles’s ears as he whirled, trying to think.

I’ve got to get to them now.

“CHUCK!” Ry had clearly been calling to him, but it took a few moments for her voice to finally carry over the rush in his ears, and he whirled to face her. Concern was evident in her expression as she took in his posture, his shoulders heaving as the pace of his breathing increased, his lungs seemingly in a vice grip. “What is it?” she asked.

“I need to get home. Now. The kids… something’s wrong.” Chuckles could barely form a complete thought, his mind already racing with how long it would take him to get home if he ran the whole way.

Ry dug her teeth into her lip, thinking hard. “Wait right here.”

“I can’t. Ry, I’ve got-”

“Stay.” Ry jogged through the doorway into the back. A few seconds later, she emerged with Oksann close behind, carrying a key fob in her hand. She pressed it into his palm.

“Take the speeder out front with the chipped green paint. Get going. We’ll be right behind you. Now go.”

He didn’t waste another millisecond arguing with her, darting out the door of the common house and into the cool evening air. There were only a few speeders parked outside, so it was easy to find the one Ry had specified. Leaping onto it, he tore out of the settlement, racing for the ship.

The minutes seemed to drag on for eternity as the wind whipped at his hair and shirt, tugging at him as he pushed the speeder bike to its limit.

I have to get to them. I have to.

I can’t lose anyone else.

The line of trees came into view, and Chuckles urged the speeder on, the engine whining loudly. As soon as the ship came into view, he could make out a large figure yanking a tiny one roughly by the arm just as a yellow lightsaber blade activated, humming in the night. Chuck barely stopped the bike before leaping off, yanking his blaster from its holster on his hip.

“GET YOUR KRIFFING HANDS OFF HER!”

Broog whirled at the sound of Chuckles’s shout, and Chuck’s heart leapt into his throat at the sight of Nita being gripped roughly by her shoulder, a blaster pressed to her temple as the Klatooinian yanked her in front of him. Arni stood to their right, their lightsaber clutched tightly in shaking hands, not daring to move. The Klatooinian’s face curled into a grin that more resembled a snarl at the helpless slump of Chuckles’s shoulders as he frantically took in the scene before him.

“You know, I thought I’d come out here, kill you, steal your ship as a repayment for you breaking my wrist a few weeks back. But Maker alive, I never could have predicted the bounties you had hiding out here. Two Jedi younglings? I’ll be able to retire once I turn these brats over to the Empire. They’re paying handsomely for them these days. Now put the blaster down.”

Chuck knelt down, keeping his hands raised until he placed the DC-17 on the ground. He met Arni’s eyes, and Broog noted it, unsheathing a knife to press to Nita’s neck as he swung his blaster around to aim at Arni. “You too. Put your little glowstick down.”

Arni chewed their lip until Broog pressed the knife against Nita’s neck more, drawing a whimper from her. Casting one last look at Chuckles, they deactivated their lightsaber and flung it down.

“Good job, tailhead.” Broog grinned wickedly, his pointed teeth glittering in the dimming light. “Now, tell your friend here goodbye. You won’t be seeing him again.”

“Chuckles,” Nita whimpered.

“Don’t,” Chuckles gritted out at the Klatooinian. “Leave them.”

Broog barked out a laugh. “Not exactly in a bargaining position, are ya?”

“You can have me. I’m worth more than both of them combined.” He doubted that was true, but he was flailing. Still, the Klatooinian paused.

“And why might that be?”

Chuckles sighed, shuffling closer on his knees and removing his face mask and goggles, revealing his face. “Because I’m a traitor. I stole them from the temple and abandoned my post. I know Imperial secrets. I know how they work. I’m far more dangerous to them than two younglings are.”

Broog stared at him for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re a clone.”

Chuckles bit back the sarcastic retort that bubbled up inside of him, settling for a simple, less antagonistic response instead.

“Yes.”

The Klatooinian sneered. “A dime a dozen. But if you think you have value, then we can find that out too. And if not, I’ll enjoy killing you all the same.”

Chuckles ground his teeth. “That’s not the deal. You get me or you get nothing. That’s it.”

“Again, you don’t have any position to bargain, you tube-bred freak.” The last words dripped with animosity, and the Klatooinians' eyes were glittering menacingly.

Chuckles sighed in apparent exasperation, but his pulse was racing as his fingers drifted down to where he kept a knife hidden in his boot. “If you don’t just take me, you’re not leaving here alive. You’re not taking them.”

Broog tipped his head back and laughed.

Chuckles met Nita’s gaze. “Close your eyes, honey.”

She did as he asked.

Before Broog could process what he’d said, Chuck yanked the knife loose from his boot, flicking it at the Klatooinian’s face. It embedded in his right shoulder, and he dropped the blade he was holding, roaring out a curse. Nita slipped from his grasp, and before she could take two steps, Arni grabbed her, diving into the bushes and out of view.

Chuckles lunged forward, dropping his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around the Klatooinian, tackling him backwards. Broog growled, rolling Chuckles onto his back and snarling as he brought his blaster down, cracking it across Chuck’s face. Warmth trickled down from just above his eyebrow as fireworks exploded across his vision. Pulling another knife from his hip, Broog swiped at Chuck’s face. The clone slammed his head backwards into the mud to avoid the sharp blade, but the knife still managed to catch him in his cheek, reopening the flesh near his scar. Chuck swore loudly as Broog reached back, slamming the blade into the side of Chuck’s thigh. Another burst of pain exploded through him like lightning streaking through his veins, and he was stunned for a moment before his training kicked in.

Not today, you kriffing coward.

Bucking his hips upward, Chuckles tossed the Klatooinian over him and onto his back, and he scrambled around to reverse their positions. His fingers were covered in mud as he reached for the blade that was still embedded in Broog’s shoulder. His hand slipped once, twice, before his fingers found purchase around the hilt, and he twisted it. Broog screamed in rage, bringing the blaster up and trying to take aim at Chuckles’s face. A bolt winged by, the heat of the plasma grazing his cheek and leaving a ringing in his ear, but he did not relent. Chuckles brought his other hand up, pinning Broog’s wrist as he shuffled his knees forward, pinning his assailant’s arms into the mud as he knelt on his shoulders. Yanking the knife in Broog's shoulder loose, he punched the Klatooinian in the face repeatedly until his features were misshapen and swollen with blood trickling from every orifice. Panting, he gripped his opponent by the top of his head, pushing his weight forward and exposing Broog’s neck.

“You should have stayed the fuck away from me and my kids.”

He drew the blade across the Klatooinian’s throat. Broog gurgled, thrashing violently as his blood poured from the gash in his neck. Chuckles watched emotionlessly as the life drained from his body, his motions becoming less violent and frantic until they completely ceased and his bugged out eyes glazed over.

Chuckles was panting, his shoulders heaving, and he tasted blood. Bringing his hand up to his face, he tried to wipe at his forehead only to smear cool mud over his skin and feel a sharp sting when he touched the cut there. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, which was still swimming slightly from the blow he’d taken to his face. Carefully, he clambered off of Broog before slumping in the mud on his hands and knees. He hissed as the knife in his leg reminded him it was there. Reaching down, he decided it would be best not to remove it until he had medical supplies. He looked around, but could barely see anything in the dark.

“ARNI! NITA!” His shouts were hoarse and came out in between gasps as he tried to steady his breathing. The brush to his left about ten meters away rustled, and his eyes managed to adjust in time to see Arni cautiously peer out.

“Keep… I’m hurt… keep the little one over there,” he gasped.

Arni’s eyes flicked down to where the knife was embedded in his thigh, drifting to the blood covering his face before they swallowed hard and nodded. Nita erupted from their hiding place, trying to get to him, tears streaking her face.

“CHUCKLES!” she sobbed as Arni wrapped her in a hug, holding her back.

“Hold on,” they whispered. “We have to be sure it’s safe.”

“He’s hurt!” she whimpered. “We have to help him.”

“I’m… I’m ok honey. Stay… with Arni. I’ll be right there.”

The sound of an engine in the distance suddenly caught his attention, and he froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Arni’s.

Another speeder.

“Hide,” he rasped.

Arni immediately grabbed Nita, shepherding her back into the brush as Chuckles scrambled back through the mud, scraping the grime from his goggles’ lenses and sliding them back over his eyes along with his mask just as a speeder bike’s headlight came into view around the corner. He gripped the blaster, leveling it at the speeder from one knee as it approached. It halted abruptly, swinging around so the headlight was no longer blinding him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the purple spots from his vision.

“DON’T SHOOT CHUCK! IT’S US!” The sound of Ry’s voice almost ripped a sob of relief from him. He fell forward onto his hands and knees again, dropping the blaster. Two sets of footsteps sprinted towards him before four hands carefully rested on his shoulders.

“Where are the kids?” Ry asked, her voice frantic.

“They’re hiding… in the bushes,” he gasped. Glancing up, he watched as Ry signed quickly to Oksann, who nodded, moving off towards the trees. Ry knelt back down next to him, her hands bracing firmly against his forearm as she helped pull him to his feet before slipping his arm over her shoulders, taking some of the weight off the leg with the knife still poking out of it.

“What happened?” she asked as they slowly limped towards the ship.

“Broog. Came looking for me. Found them instead. Was going to take them, but I handled it.”

Ry's gaze fell on Broog's still form, her mouth drawing into a thin, tight line. "He dead?"

"Yes."

"Good." She spat. “Why would he want to take them? They’re just kids.” Chuckles swallowed hard, his head pounding as he did his best to formulate a careful response, but before he could come up with anything, Ry paused suddenly, her eyes squinting into the dark at something. Chuck followed her line of sight, and his blood froze in his veins. Sticking out of the mud a few meters away was Arni’s lightsaber hilt, glinting in the dark.

“That… that’s a lightsaber.” Ry whipped her head around to look at him.

Chuckles tried to come up with a lie, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough, not with the way Ry’s eyes were boring into him. He sighed deeply.

“I told you. Everyone they know and love is dead. I had to keep them safe.”

Ry appeared to accept the answer, or at least didn’t plan on interrogating him any further right then. She nodded wordlessly, guiding him up the ramp and through the hatch. The ship’s door was open, casting a soft glow outside that almost felt like a warm embrace to Chuckles. Ry helped him over to the pilot seat, and he sat down heavily, wincing at the pressure on his thigh.

“Wait here,” she ordered, and he couldn’t find the energy to protest or argue. Ry turned, her head taking in the ship around her before she moved towards the refresher, finding the medkit almost immediately. She set that by him before heading towards the back of the ship and returning a few moments later with a bowl of steaming water and a dish rag. She yanked an empty supply crate over to sit on and set to work on the knife in his leg.

Carefully, she peeled back the torn fabric of his pants, examining the wound. “Looks like he missed everything important. You’re lucky.”

He grimaced. “I have a knife in my leg, Ry.”

“Yes, but you’re alive.”

“I guess.”

She blew a lock of hair out of her face, checking around the knife for a few more seconds before taking the medkit into her lap and beginning to dig around in it.

“We can’t take too long. I don’t want Nita to see me like this,” he said softly.

“I told Oks to take her time finding the kids and bringing them back here so I’d have time to get you patched up. Don’t worry about it.” Ry reassured him as she leaned forward. Abruptly, she reached forward and yanked the knife out of his leg, letting it clatter to the floor as she applied pressure with a fresh wad of gauze. Chuckles swore loudly, pounding his fist into the armrest of the seat.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she muttered, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. It took her a few more moments to cauterize the wound and coat it with bacta before carefully bandaging it. “Alright. Let’s see that face now. Sit still,” she demanded, reaching for the strap on his goggles.

Chuckles’s hands rocketed upwards, gripping her wrists, and she stilled. “Don’t.”

She huffed a frustrated sigh. “I told you, whatever you’ve got going on with your face, I’ve seen worse. My world was torn apart during the war. I’ve seen limbs blown off and eyes missing. It’s-”

“Ryena.” His voice was soft. “I… You don’t understand.”

Her expression softened. “Let me see, Chuck. Let me help you. Please.”

Chuckles hung his head. He could feel blood trickling from the wounds on his temple and cheek. She knows enough to be dangerous as it is. What’s a little more? His head was throbbing, and his shoulders were sagging with exhaustion. He had no more fight left in him. It was time to give in and throw chance to the wind.

Calloused fingers traced along his cheek, slipping under the goggle strap and pulling them up and over his head. He raised his bloodshot amber eyes to meet her purple ones, and she inhaled sharply, but she didn’t pull away. Hesitantly, she reached up, pulling down the cloth that covered the bottom half of his face. He waited, hardly daring to breathe.

Ry sat for a moment, her eyes flicking over his features, taking all of him in. He felt her gaze linger on the scar on his cheek. Finally, she leaned forward, dipping the cloth in the bowl of water and taking his chin in her fingers, turning his head before she dabbed at the gash, trying to clean the mud from it. He flinched.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I’m the one that should be sorry,” he croaked. “I always wonder what the kids think of when they see my face. I have little doubt what you do.” His voice cracked.

Ry tilted his face to meet her gaze again. “I know what war looks like, Chuck. I also know that the clones were created to fight in it. You had as much of a choice as the droids did. I don’t blame the soldiers that fought in it necessarily, not anymore. I blame the politicians. Those that saw our world as nothing but a place to be conquered and wiped from existence.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a stance to take.”

She smirked. “I didn’t always have it. Oksann helped with that.” She wrung the cloth out, tinting the water red before she dipped it again. As she looked back up, her gaze was misty. “She is a gentleness I never felt I deserved.” She pressed the cloth to Chuckles’s wound again, and he did his best not to recoil. Ry rubbed her thumb soothingly over his cheek. “She wasn’t always deaf, you know.”

“What happened? If I can ask.”

Ry swiped more of the blood away. “She was captured during the war. Her family had struck out to settle on Ziros, but the Separatists attacked and enslaved them, shipping them off to Kadavo. She was… resistant. Oksann is stubborn to a fault, more so than me if you can believe that, and try as they might, the slavers just… they couldn’t break her. When their collars and whips didn’t work, they took her to the harder parts of the facility. Set her up to work right in the loudest places with no sort of protection for her hearing. She went mostly deaf within a few weeks, and of course that just made the Zygerrians treat her worse since she could no longer hear their orders really. After she was rescued, what little hearing she had left deteriorated quickly. The damage was too severe to fix, but Oks has never let that bother her. In fact, she’s proud of it. It’s proof they didn’t break her.” Ry smiled sadly, her eyes misting over as she dipped the rag in the bowl again.

“How did she get out?” he asked.

Ry looked him straight in the eye, her normally piercing gaze softened. “A group of your brothers came to get them. There was a clone captain there already. He’d come in undercover with a few Jedi to scout the reports they’d received about the missing colonists, and they’d been captured. She says he was very kind, that he picked up on her hearing loss quickly and tried to shield her from harm as much as he could. A short while after their capture, reinforcements arrived, a battalion of clones in white and grey armor. They came swooping in and rescued the Jedi, the clone captain, and all of the Togrutas that were still alive. She said they called themselves the Wolfpack.”

Chuckles swallowed hard at the mention of the 104th, his mind drifting to his batch mate Two-Pint, and his commanding officer Wolffe, who Chuckles had also befriended during the war.

Ry wrung out the cloth again as the water turned brown and murky. “Your brothers are the reason my wife is alive, the reason I was able to meet her and dig myself out of all of the anger I harbored. That to me is something I’ll never be able to fully repay.” Her gaze grew distant for a moment, the same look Chuck had noted before. After a few seconds, she appeared to recover, blinking rapidly and setting the cloth aside, reaching for another packet of bacta. “So is Chuck your real name then?”

He smirked. “Technically, it’s CT-4311, but I go by Chuckles. Chuck for short.”

Ry raised an eyebrow, her eyes meeting his. “Chuckles?”

He shrugged, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. I’m going to be bruised all over in the morning. “I’ve got a bad habit of getting the giggles when I’m nervous. Or scared. Just the worst times really. If you heard me cackling on comms, you knew shit was hitting the fan. The trainers hated it, but it stuck."

“I don’t know that I’ve heard you laugh much,” she observed.

He sighed. “Not much to laugh about these days.”

Ry gently smoothed some of the bacta over the cut on his cheek. “Is it true what they’re saying? About the chips?”

Chuck let out a shaky breath. “I have no idea, but to be honest, it sounds plausible. My brothers were deeply loyal to those they served with, and I can’t imagine them all collectively just turning like that. They-” he stuttered, his mind drifting back to the day at the temple. “They never would have just killed children like they did that day.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ry paused, sitting back on the crate and watching him carefully. “Why didn’t you turn?”

He huffed a laugh. “Another mystery in these trying times. I have no idea, Ry. I just know I ran into those two in the middle of it, and I couldn’t leave them. We got out by the skin of our teeth and have been on the run ever since. I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to put you and Oksann in danger.” He paused, meeting her eyes again. “We’ve got to fix the engine, but as soon as we do, we’ll get out of here. I promise.”

Ry didn’t say anything for a few more moments before she leaned over, taking a bandage and applying it to his cheek. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll stay here as long as you’re safe.”

“Ry-”

“Chuckles.” She gripped his chin again, turning his face so that they were staring at each other. “I’ve told you my story, one that only Oks knows. I trust you more than I probably should, and there's nothing either of us wouldn't do to keep your family safe. What makes you think I’m gonna let you pull some hero shit and uproot those kids?” She let go of his face, but her eyes continued to pierce him. “Family is important, and those that you choose to make a part of it even more so. You said you wanted your family to settle here, so that’s what you’re going to do. You will fix your ship in case the Imperials ever do decide they want to stake out this backwater world for whatever reason, but until then, you’re staying here. Got it?”

Chuck hung his head, trying to fight the tears that were stinging his eyes. He nodded, reaching forward and resting his hand on Ry’s, squeezing it tightly. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Thank you.”

She shrugged, clearly considering the matter settled as she leaned forward again to smooth the first bandage over the gash in his cheek before setting to work cleaning the cut on his temple. “The good news is, aside from the jab in your leg, I don’t think any of the other wounds on you are going to scar too badly.”

He grinned. “Well thank goodness for that. Wouldn’t want to mess up this pretty face.”

“Anymore than you already have? Sure,” Ry teased. Her tone was lighter than normal, and a bit of laughter was twinkling in her eyes as she pressed another bandage over the other wound. “Was that story true at least? About how you got the scar on your cheek?”

“Yeah. Training accident on Kamino. Was surprised they still let me fly after that, but I think some of the trainers took pity on me. It was a cascading failure in the fighter’s systems, so not much more I could have done differently.”

Ry looked like she was loading another snarky comment up before they heard footsteps on the ramp behind them, and the two of them fell silent, turning to find Oksann stepping through the hatch with Nita balanced on her hip and Arni close behind. A glint caught Chuckles’s attention, his eyes flicking to Arni’s lightsaber, which Oksann was clutching in her other hand. The Togruta met his gaze and stopped abruptly, taking in his features, her eyes widening with recognition. Nita wriggled on her hip, and she carefully placed the tiny Pantoran down before turning back to Arni and handing them their lightsaber, smiling reassuringly.

Nita sprinted across the hold, practically launching herself at Chuckles, sobbing quietly. “I thought he killed you,” she whispered into his chest. “I thought we were going to be alone again.”

Chuckles winced as he shifted to wrap his arms around her. “I’m ok, honey. The galaxy is going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.” Her large honey-colored eyes glanced up at him, bloodshot and still brimming with tears, and her bottom lip trembled as she took in the bandages.

“He hurt you.”

Chuck shrugged, trying not to betray how in pain he was. “I’ve had worse. Ry’s helping take care of me. Why don’t you and Arni go and get some food, ok?” He met Arni’s eyes, and they nodded. It appeared there was something else they wanted to say, but after a few seconds, they turned and signed to Oksann, who nodded before signing back. Chuckles wasn’t sure what they had said, but Arni came over and took Nita’s hand, leading her back towards the kitchenette. Oksann watched them go before coming over and squatting in front of Chuckles.

He glanced over at Ry before he began speaking, and she took his silent cue, signing for him.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t sure who to trust. And I had to keep them safe.”

Oksann shrugged, giving him a small smile before signing back. Ry translated for her.

You were watching out for your family. No hard feelings.

He nodded, his head dropping down as he searched for words, but all that came was a flood of emotions: relief, sadness, fear. He coughed loudly, doing his best to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. He knew it was a fruitless attempt, but if he allowed the floodgates to open, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stop.

A warm pair of palms rested on his knees, and he glanced up to meet Oksann’s gentle, turquoise eyes. She slipped her hands into his and gave them a squeeze before signing something.

Your secret is safe with us.

Chuck’s throat was tight as he tried to speak, so instead, he brought his right hand to his chin, hesitantly trying to sign one of the few phrases he'd picked up from Arni while watching their interactions with Oksann, almost mimicking a kiss being blown.

Thank you.

The Togruta smiled warmly before leaning forward and slipping her hand around the back of his head, gently pulling his face forward to touch their foreheads together in a gesture he had performed with his brothers a thousand times. The significance of Oksann choosing that specific act wasn't lost on him, and he clutched her tightly. Her hands signed something to Ry for her to translate.

It’s the least I can do after what your brothers did for me.

Chuckles’s breath stuttered as he lost the battle with his tears, and they streamed down his face. It seemed as though in that instant everything he’d held within himself came pouring out, and before he knew it, he fell forward onto his knees, clutching Oksann and sobbing into her shoulder. She held him tightly before another pair of arms enveloped them both.

“Shhhh you’re alright, Chuckles. You’re safe. They’re safe. It’s all ok,” Ry soothed in his ear. The two women let him wear himself out for a few moments before his shoulders finally slumped with exhaustion. Ry pressed him back by his shoulders, and when she did, he could see even her sharp amethyst eyes were glossy with tears. She gave him a smirk.

“Would you like us to stay with you three tonight? Make sure you get enough sleep and that the kids are alright? I know you're not as mobile as you normally are with that leg in the shape it is.”

Chuck took a deep breath before shaking his head. “We’ve got nowhere for you to sleep. I think we’ll be alright.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I do have one last favor to ask before you leave though.”

“Name it.”

“Can you help me take care of Broog’s body? I know he had friends, and I just want to make sure there’s no evidence he was here in case they come looking for him.”

Ry huffed a mirthless laugh. “He puffed his chest a lot. Most of his clan and company couldn’t stand him, but yes, let’s go take care of him so the kids don’t stumble across his corpse by accident.” She rose to her feet, but when he did the same, she pressed a hand against his chest. “You’re not worth shit right now. Oks and I will handle it.”

“Ry-”

She raised her other hand, silencing him. “Go be with your kids. They’re shook up and need to know that you’re alright. We’ll handle it.”

Chuck saw that arguing was pointless, so he relented. Ry took Oksann by the hand, and the two of them strode back out into the dark. Chuckles watched them go for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and heading towards the back of the ship.

Nita was at the table, her woes nearly forgotten as she dug through a box of fried snacks, her legs swinging back and forth under the table. Arni was sitting quietly next to her, picking at a bowl of leftover stew. Chuckles gave a soft laugh at the little Pantoran. “That your dinner?”

She gave him a sheepish look. “Arni said I could.”

Arni ducked their head, but Chuck rested a hand on their shoulder. “Well, in that case, I suppose it’s alright.” The Twi’lek didn’t move, their head seeming to sink lower. Chuck noted it and turned back to Nita, squatting down and looking her over. Dirt streaked her blue cheeks and a few leaves were still caught in her silver curls from their hiding place in the brush. He grinned, wiping at a particularly large smudge of mud with his thumb. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go get cleaned up in the ‘fresher and then I’ll meet you at the bunk and tuck you in.”

She frowned. “But I’m still hungry.”

He tried his best to stifle a chuckle at her indignance. “Alright, just this once, I’ll let you have snacks in the bed. But no getting crumbs everywhere. Ok?”

Nita’s eyes sparkled as she nodded affirmatively, extending her pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Chuckles grinned, locking his pinky with hers before she scooted off towards the refresher. Chuck waited until she was gone before sliding onto the bench next to Arni, resting his elbows on the cool metal table. They sat in silence for a few moments before Arni released a deep, shuddering breath.

“I messed up again,” they whispered.

“How do you figure that?” Chuckles asked gently.

“I-I-I had a motion sensor perimeter set up. I… I don’t know how he got through. I was supposed to keep her safe, and she almost got killed because of me.” Their large brown eyes were beginning to shine with tears.

“Arni.”

“I’m better than that. I have to be. I can’t fail. I already messed up the ship, and now I can’t-” Arni’s words were falling out of their mouth as if someone had opened a faucet, and finally, Chuckles just took Arni in his arms, clutching the Twi’lek to his chest, and they fell silent.

“Arni. You are ten. You did everything you were supposed to. You messaged me. You got Nita out of there when I got Broog's attention. You did exactly what you needed to do. You didn’t fail anyone.” He cupped the Twi'lek's cheeks, bringing their gaze up to his. “I am so proud of you. Do you know that? I am so proud of you. You have taken on more than any kid your age should ever have to handle, and you are doing so much better than I could ever have hoped for.” He stroked his thumbs over Arni’s cheeks, swiping at the tears there. Arni hiccuped.

“I’m not doing good enough though,” they whimpered.

Chuckles let out an incredulous huff of a laugh. “You are doing more than enough.” He paused. “Arni, you are enough. Do you know that? You don’t have to go above and beyond all the time to prove that you’re worthy of something.” He jabbed his finger in the middle of the young Twi’lek’s chest gently. “Everything that’s in here. That’s enough. You don’t have to be the best at everything. You don’t have to prove anything to me or anyone else. I know you’re smart enough and brave enough.”

Arni wiped at their nose. “I… At the temple, I was different. People thought I couldn’t do things because I struggled in certain areas. Like when I couldn’t read you without touching you.”

Chuckles nodded. “So you decided to be the best at everything else so no one would doubt you were a good Jedi? That you were competent?"

Arni dropped their head, nodding. Chuck pulled them into his side, wrapping his arm around their shoulders. “Well, I’ve got news kid. You are a good Jedi. One of the best I’ve known. And you’re an even better person.” Arni leaned their head against his chest.

“You’re going to make mistakes,” Chuckles continued softly. “And that’s alright. I make them all the time. It's like I told you when I crashed the ship; as long as you learn from them, it’s fine. But this, this wasn’t on you. Broog wanted to hurt me, and sometimes when people want to do bad things, they can’t be stopped. But we stopped him. I’m a little banged up, but you and Nita are ok, and that’s the most important thing. So we’ll keep making mistakes and keep learning from them, and we’ll get through this. But you have nothing to prove to me or anyone else. I know you're competent and smart and have it all under control. Alright?”

Arni wrapped their arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. “Alright.”

—

An hour later, Oksann and Ry returned, entering the silent ship. Oksann went to check the kitchenette, but came back a few moments later shrugging and signing.

Not back there. Maybe they went to check the perimeter.

Ry chewed her lip before a soft snort broke the silence. Her eyes flicked over to the cracked bunk door. She put a finger to her lips before motioning Oksann over and peering inside the door.

Chuckles was laying in the bunk with the two younglings flanking him. Arni was laying next to him, their back pressed against his side as their chest slowly rose and fell. Nita was curled into his side with a box of some sort of snack clutched in her arms, and Chuck had wrapped his arm around her, cradling her. His head was tipped back, and he was snoring with his mouth open, but the occasional grunts and snorts didn’t appear to be bothering the two kids. Ry smiled before motioning for Oksann to hand her the blanket that Chuckles had sitting next to the pilot’s chair. Carefully, she pushed the bunk door open as quietly as she could before prying the snack box from Nita's grip and throwing the blanket over the three of them.

His neck is going to feel like shit in the morning. But I don’t know that he’ll care.

The two women quietly cleaned up the remnants of their dinner in the kitchenette and the medical supplies that Ry had used in the main hold before slipping out of the ship and closing the hatch behind them.

A/N: Two-Pint is the fantastic creation of @teletraan-meets-jarvis and is first introduced in her fic “Pieces”, so if you’d like to know more about him, please go check that awesome fic out!

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @dsburnerblog @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @moonstrider9904 @rain-on-kamino

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