Lyrics: "Budapest," by George Ezra, on Did You Hear the Rain?
FEARLESS
Chapter One
My friends and family,
They don't understand.
They fear they'd lose so much,
If you took my hand.
But for you, I'd lose it all.
Approximately one year later...
Kalinda took a deep breath, gathering what calm she could. Force above and beyond, she was going to need it, especially since she still felt a little queasy. The doors to the Council chambers hissed open and allowed her entry. Her boots made no sound on the marbled floor; the only indication of her passage was the Kali-shaped shadow cast by the fading light of day and the movement of every Council members' eyes upon her as she approached. Mace Windu's gaze, in particular, was stern, and his mouth was set in a firm line. Not unusual for him, but it didn't bode well. Its severity signaled that something was not right.
But of course that was true. There was only one empty chair, where Obi-Wan was supposed to be, but Kali did not let her eyes linger upon it, because if she did, she'd lose what control she'd managed to shore up. Instead she stood at the center of the room and faced Master Windu, and took another deep breath. Calm.
"What is the nature of your relationship with the the clone known as CC-3077?" Mace asked without so much as a how's it going?
Heat flooded her face but she forced back the accompanying emotion. She'd had an idea this was coming since Alderaan. It would be unpleasant and probably extremely embarrassing, but she'd tried to prepare herself.
"You mean Captain Stonewall?" she asked.
The Korunn Jedi's face betrayed no emotion as he nodded once. Beside him, Master Yoda's flickering, holographic form regarded her just as calmly. "Formed a romantic relationship with the clone, we believe you have. Is it true, Knight Halcyon?"
"Yes," she said, lifting her chin.
Though nearly the entire Council was present, no one spoke or stirred. Only about a fourth of the Council members were physically on-planet; the rest appeared via holo. There was a war on, after all. Even so, the air suddenly felt thick and heavy, coating her lungs and tightening in her chest. Calm, she reminded herself. Stay calm, and you will get through this.
"You know such attachments are forbidden," Ki-Adi-Mundi said from his place to her right.
Kali glanced his way. "Attachments are forbidden, but I was unaware we were expected to be celibate."
It was a blow, albeit an inadvertent one, and she regretted her words at once. Master Mundi's species had a low birth rate, so he had been permitted to take several wives. The Cerean Master's pale, elongated brow furrowed at her reply, and Kali schooled herself to dial her emotion back even further.
Before he could reply, though, Luminara Unduli shifted in her chair, causing the others to look her way. "Your thoughts betray you...and the captain. Do not attempt to deceive us with semantics."
"You care for him," Master Plo Koon added. "You cannot conceal the truth from us, Knight Halcyon. We know that you have formed an attachment to CC-3077."
"You have always struggled with that weakness." Master Windu's voice rolled through her heart like thunder, and it began to beat faster.
Her throat was tight and her eyes pricked with heat. Not now, she pleaded with herself. Keep it together, for both their sakes. That thought chased the emotion away; there was more than herself and Stonewall, now. So much more.
She shook her head and met Mace's eyes. "Perhaps you're right. But it's my weakness, not his." She indicated the direction of the Coruscant Guard barracks, tucked into the cityscape and bathed in the glow of the almost-setting sun. "Captain Stonewall is innocent of any wrongdoing. He could not," her cheeks heated again but she pushed on, "refuse an order by his general."
Luminara lifted her chin, and if Kali didn't know any better, she would have sworn the Mirialan Jedi's eyes had hardened. "Are you telling us you ordered CC-3077 to...be intimate with you?"
"I'm not that desperate," Kali shot back before she could stop the words. She paused and took a moment to collect herself, and continued. "As Master Windu pointed out, I have a...predilection for attachments. Obi-Wan and I were very close, as many of you know. Last month, after he was killed by Rako Hardeen, I was...upset, and sought companionship. Stonewall is a young man, and was eager to please his general."
She made an indeterminate motion with her hand, to let them fill in the blanks. "The point is that it was my idea, and any attachment in this situation is purely my fault, and my problem. Captain Stonewall has done nothing wrong. In his mind, he has served the Republic faithfully."
There. Humiliating, to be sure, but she was past caring. All that mattered was saving Stone's shebs. Her own, she'd worry about later.
Mace Windu exhaled through his nose, long and slow, and leaned back in his seat, looking at her the way he used to when she was not an errant Knight, but his Padawan who had disappointed him in one way or another. It was not uncommon for him, but something struck her as off, now. She glanced around again at the nearly full Council chamber and realized this meeting was more than a simple dressing-down.
As a rule, it did not take an entire Council to reprimand a Jedi. The body only assembled to offer harsher disciplines.
Her throat tightened.
"A 'predilection,' you say, hmm?" Everyone looked over at the flickering form of Yoda, seated in his customary egg-shaped chair beside Mace. But he only watched Kali. "Semantics, again, Knight Halcyon. Warned, you were, about such things. Only truth should you bring before us."
Kali's hands tightened into fists at her sides, and it took every ounce of control she could muster to relax them. Heat stung her eyes again, anger and shame coursed through her. It was truth they wanted, yet they would have her live a lie. They would have her deny the things written in her heart and soul. Her head buzzed with restrained emotion but if she spoke her true mind, she would lose everything.
"I have many weaknesses," she managed at last. "But Stonewall–"
"Is one more," Mace broke in, lacing his fingertips together. "I see now that I made an error in judgment in allowing you to participate in the Wars. You are more suited to Temple life."
Yoda and Mace exchanged glances, some sort of silent communication passing between them. When Mace looked her way again, his gaze was durasteel. "Kalinda Halcyon, you are officially on probation. Three more causes for reprimand will result in your expulsion from the Jedi Order. You are to return to your former Temple duties, effective immediately."
"No."
Mace frowned. "Excuse me?"
Kali clenched her hands and didn't care that she was shaking. They could not do this. She would not let them do this. Her gut churned but her voice was steady. "With respect, Masters, I think Shadow Squad and I have made great strides in our efforts during in the Wars. Despite my 'weaknesses,' we've done a lot of good. This war has been going on for nearly three years, and there are less Jedi every day..."
She shouldn't have looked at Obi-Wan's empty chair. One shot. All the heroic things he'd done, all the messes and scrapes and last-ditch efforts, all the warmth, wry humor and fierce intelligence...a kriffing sniper had destroyed his bright spirit with one shot, and some days it was more than she could bear. She shouldn't have looked. But she did. And traitor tears sprang to her eyes when she most needed to keep them away.
"Even now, your emotions betray you," Luminara said, echoing Kali's thoughts. "Master Windu is correct; you are not suited for the Wars. You can make yourself more useful here at the Temple."
This wasn't happening. Kali tried to breathe deeply and regain her calm, but it slipped through her hands like so many grains of sand. "What will happen to my men?"
She said this with a glance at Plo Koon; of all the Jedi Masters in the room, she had heard he was closest with his clones, the fierce fighters known as the Wolfpack. Perhaps he would understand...
But the Kel Dor Jedi said nothing.
Mace's voice pulled her gaze as if her head was tied to a string. "They will be disseminated back to their original teams. Shadow Squad was," his frown deepened, "a failed experiment, on my part." He leveled his gaze on her again. "In any case, Shadow Squad is no longer your concern, Knight Halcyon."
"I urge you to reconsider." Kali paused, then took a step toward her old Master, trying and failing to keep the pleading out of her voice. She had one final, desperate card to play, though she had a feeling they would not buy her bluff. "I will end my...affair with Stonewall if you let me keep working with them."
Mace shook his head. "Our decision is final."
"Please," she whispered. "Mace, please. Don't do this to them. They deserve better."
"You should have considered that earlier," he told her sharply. The change in pitch was minute, but amounted to a klaxon of warning to those present, and Kali felt the force of his ire like a slap. A beat passed; he took a breath and leaned back in his chair, all emotion faded from his face once more. "This discussion is over. You are dismissed."
Meanwhile...
Traxis threw down the cards and grinned across the table at his captain. "I win."
"Again?" Stonewall sighed and made a show of frowning at the sabacc cards spread before him. "Kriff. I'm getting cleaned out."
Shadow Squad's ordnance man, a bald clone named Crest, gave Traxis an exaggerated look of wariness. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cheating."
"Nope," the scarred clone drawled as he collected his winnings – a pile of sweets that Shadow Squad had collected over the last few weeks. "I'm just that kriffing good."
The youngest member of the squad, Milo, began to gather the cards. "None of us are cheaters, Crest. That's just mean."
Crest sat on Traxis' left side, at the small table in the rec room at Coruscant barracks. At Milo's words he chuckled and glanced at his scarred brother. "Hmm. I don't know...turn out your pockets, Trax, and let me check."
Like all the members of his squad, Trax was dressed only the black body-suit normally worn beneath armor, and there were no pockets. So he shot the bald clone a mock glare and began to sweep the packets of honey sticks into his rucksack. "Eff off, Baldy."
Shadow's medic, Weave, sighed as he entered info into his datapad. He'd opted out of the last game, but had chosen to sit with his brothers anyway. "Trax, he's just teasing. Don't let him get to you."
"That goes for each of you," Stonewall added, looking between Crest and Traxis, both of whom feigned innocence. At their looks, the captain rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from their Jedi general. "Di'kutle."
Despite the insult, there was affection in his voice. Only Stonewall could call Traxis an idiot and make it seem like an act of camaraderie. And in a way, it was.
"Ah, vode, right?" Crest chuckled, nudging the officer's side with his elbow. "Brothers can be so annoying, and we're downright incorrigible."
"You're a fekking pain in my shebs," Traxis shot back reflexively, though his heart wasn't really in it. He was still full from lunch, and pleased that he'd won the sabacc round. A little R & R almost made up for the fact that they'd had to make an unscheduled trip to the Core this morning.
Milo shuffled the cards, but didn't deal them. "She's been in that meeting a long time," he said, glancing at the captain, who tensed. "D'you think everything's okay?"
The levity that had surrounded them evaporated, and no one spoke. Milo, maybe sensing his misstep, winced and looked down at the cards. "I'm sure it is. Okay, I mean. I'm just bored and saying silly things. You know how us shinies get," he added hopefully.
This was said to Stonewall, who nodded slowly, but twisted around in his seat to glance out the barrack's small window. The others followed suit. Kalinda Halcyon, their Jedi and general, had been recalled to the Temple suddenly, which, in Trax's limited experience in Jedi affairs, did not bode well for her. He didn't blame the captain for his distress.
Every member of the squad knew that Stonewall and their Jedi were romantically linked. And while Trax might have found the arrangement displeasing in his younger days, now it was such a steady facet of his life, he couldn't well imagine things any other way. The captain and general made a team to be reckoned with on their own, and the addition of the rest of the squad only improved matters. Besides, Stonewall was ass-over-kama in love with the dark-haired woman, and she with him. In his more reflective moments, Trax liked the idea that a clone could find that kind of happiness. Though he wished...well, a lot of things, the sight of them together gave him hope for the future, or whatever sort of future a cloned soldier could have.
But one thing niggled at Traxis. Weave made another idle comment meant to distract, and Crest answered, but Traxis cast a wary glance at Stonewall, considering the events he'd witnessed on the planet Balasi. His captain met his gaze, and Traxis didn't have to be a Force-sensitive clone trooper to read the agitation in Stonewall's posture.
Of the entire squad, only Traxis knew their captain had the Force – somehow. The specifics were still something of a mystery to their Jedi general, and Trax had seen the evidence about two weeks ago on Balasi. In all likelihood, Stonewall was the reason Shadow Squad had been recalled to the capital world. And he knew it.
Trax frowned. But if that were the case...why wasn't Stonewall in the meeting with Kalinda? Fek, you'd think a Force-sensitive clone trooper would be enough of a novelty to warrant a trip to the Council chambers. As far as Trax knew, no other clone was like Stonewall. No other clone could access the Force.
Stonewall blinked once, and looked down, worry practically radiating from him for a moment before he glanced at Milo. "It's not that late, yet. Why don't you deal another round, Mi?"
The shiny obliged, and Traxis watched his captain try to pull himself together and make jokes with his men. No, there was no one else quite like him.
Across the small room, the door hissed open and a group of clones spilled inside, their armor splashed with the bright crimson insignia of the Coruscant Guard. Traxis' stomach flipped and his hand fell on the blaster pistol he wore at his hip without knowing why. Stonewall turned around and, seeing the dozen clones enter the room, got to his feet. Trax and the rest of Shadow Squad followed their captain's lead.
An officer, clearly marked by the kama at his waist, approached Stonewall. Too slowly. A warning siren began to blare in the back of Trax's mind.
"Can we help you?" Stonewall said as the officer paused before him.
The unnamed clone officer glanced at Traxis. "Put that away, or we'll do it for you."
Traxis scowled, but lifted his hand from his blaster. Mollified, the officer looked between the other clones, the blank T-visor of his helmet skimming over each of them in turn. "All of you, put your hands where I can see them, and don't fardling move unless I give the order."
Stonewall's shoulders straightened. "What's going on?"
"CC-3077?"
Stonewall frowned but nodded. Immediately, four clones broke from the ranks and lunged for him, grabbing his shoulders and arms, rendering him immobile. They forced him to his knees while a fifth trotted over and began searching him, running a hand-held scanner across his form, even though the body-glove didn't leave much to the imagination.
Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was that sense of self-preservation that ran so strongly in Jango Fett's DNA. Maybe it was desperation. But Stonewall acted, and it was in a way Traxis had only seen once before.
The captain stilled and ducked his head, and the air pressure in the room seemed to thicken as with an approaching storm. Something buzzed in Trax's ears and it was hard to breathe... Then Stonewall sprang to his feet, just as the five clones surrounding him were propelled backward as if shoved by an invisible hand. They tumbled over themselves and each other, knocking the Corrie Guard officer to the floor in the process.
"Fekking hell," the officer shouted as he clambered to his feet. "Stun him!"
"Captain!" Milo called, but the Corrie Guards had already regrouped.
Those who'd not been knocked away had rushed in to support their brothers, and Stonewall was lost in a sea of white and crimson armor. Trax and the others were slammed against the nearest wall with orders not to resist ringing in their ears. Heart hammering like some shabla machine, Trax snatched his shoulders out of the grip of the clone who held him so he could turn and see what they were doing to Stonewall.
A buzzing whine echoed in the room as the stun bolt hit his captain, and Trax watched in disbelief as Stonewall crumpled to the gleaming barracks floor. The fight was over. They'd lost.
Trax had lost before, many times. But never quite like this.
"Let him go," he heard himself snarl. "What in the Nine Hells is the matter with you? Karking shabuir chakaare!"
If the Corrie Guards understood the Mando'a curses, they didn't show it. They ignored Trax and picked up his captain's limp form. They ignored Crest's cries of indignation and Milo's pleas, and Weave's demands for a warrant, and they took Stonewall from the room in a dead-man's carry.
The remaining members of Shadow Squad were forcibly turned and made to face the unnamed officer, who rested his hands on his hips. "Orders just came in. Your captain is under arrest and you are to remain here until further notice." He paused and swiveled his helmet between the four unarmored, unarmed clones. "I was going to allow you to stay in the barracks, but after that little display, I think a holding cell is more appropriate."
"Orders?" Weave asked, his voice medic-calm. "Whose orders?"
Traxis gnashed his teeth, unconcerned with Officer Kark-head's answer. All that mattered was getting his captain back. But even so, he caught the words Jedi and Council, and ice ran through his veins. Did Kalinda know? His vision went white and hazy as rage took over. It didn't matter. Kalinda wasn't here. He was. He could do something. He would.
Traxis glared at the Corrie Guard officer and wished to whatever fekking gods lived on this world that he could kill with a look.
Officer Kark-head raised his blaster at Trax. "Steady, trooper. One wrong move, and I'll have you carted off to Kamino with your captain. Understand?"
Without waiting for a response, the officer turned away, touching the side of his bucket in a way that meant he was speaking through his comm. His men continued to hold Shadow Squad, and for a few seconds the only things Trax was aware of were his own labored breathing and the shudder of blood through his veins. Adrenaline had kicked in, but had nowhere to go. He jerked against the grip of the man holding him, but didn't have enough leverage to break free, and the Corrie Guard held him firmly in place. Traxis felt his lips pull back in a sneer as he jerked again, but he could not move.
He fekking hated being helpless.
"Kamino?" Milo was beside him, breathing hard, voice soft.
Trax glanced over at his younger brother and noted the confusion in his eyes. "You heard Officer Kark-head, shiny."
Milo frowned. "But why would they send the captain to Kamino?"
No one else knew, and Trax had given his word he'd keep the secret. It shouldn't have mattered any more, but even now, he could not break a promise to Stonewall. "Does it karking matter? Kamino's a kriffing death sentence, and he's got no one to watch his six."
The shiny's eyes widened and his head ducked. Beyond him, Trax saw Weave and Crest listening to the exchange, but neither had a chance to speak.
"Oy, shut it, all of you," the Guard holding Trax said, adding a jerk on his arm to get his point across.
"Fekking make us," Traxis growled. The Corrie Guard responded with a jab of his armored elbow into Trax's jaw; the resulting blow made his vision spotty, and he tasted copper where he'd bit his tongue. A red haze of pain washed over his consciousness, disorienting him and making him sag against the other clone's grip as he blinked at the barracks floor.
So he didn't quite know exactly how what happened, happened.
There was a scuffling noise, a creak of armor, and a hiss of pain. Someone shouted Milo's name; Traxis looked up just in time to see Shadow Squad's youngest member, who'd somehow broken free of his captor, lunge for Officer Kark-head.
The whole of it only took a few seconds. The officer turned toward the commotion and was met with Milo's right uppercut, the blow landing at just the right angle to knock Officer Kark-head's helmet off and send it clattering to the floor, where Stonewall had lain minutes ago. Traxis saw the officer's face: smooth, unblemished, a slightly aged mirror of Milo's.
Then Milo decked him again. Hard.
Good work, Mi. There's hope for you, yet.
Officer Kark-head swore, and Traxis grinned despite his own frustration and his efforts to pull himself out of the Guard's grip. The other Guards swarmed around Milo, grabbing him and shoving him roughly to the ground, while Weave and Crest protested, but Trax knew Milo had put himself beyond his squad-mates' help. The officer stood over Mi, jerking the shiny's face up and forcing Milo to meet his gaze.
"Are you kriffing defective?" As he spoke, a trail of crimson escaped his nose and spattered on the clean, white patches of his kit. "What the fek is the matter with you?"
Milo's eyes flickered to Traxis, but it was a brief look, and Traxis' stomach twisted at the kid's next words."That color looks good on you, sir."
Maybe it was a good thing clones couldn't kill with a look, after all. Officer Kark-head glared at Milo, then turned to his men. "Get them all the hell out of here." He straightened and indicated the rest of Shadow. "Throw those three in a cell, and ship this," he nudged Milo's ribs with the toe of his boot, "milking sod on the first transport to Kamino."
"No!" A wave of helpless fury pulsed through Trax. Not Milo, too.
Crest and Weave, too, protested, but their words fell on deaf ears. Milo looked at the floor, but Traxis could not read his expression. That had never happened before. Four Corrie Guards wrestled Milo to his feet and shoved him out the door. He was gone. Both of them were gone.
Anger warred with fear and Traxis shuddered at the force of it. It was wrong. It was all wrong.
It should be me.
Traxis tensed his legs and tried to stand, but another clone hurried over and helped the first push him down. Two sets of hands, coupled with his position, meant he could not find his footing, and he could do nothing. Nothing. White rage filled his vision, and he settled into the feeling, using it to bolster his movements.
"Kriffing let us go!" Trax shouted, trying and failing to jerk free of his captor.
"You can't do this," Crest added, his words cracking. Traxis spared a millisecond to glance at his bald brother and see that Crest was also struggling against his captor.
Only Weave remained moderately steady, his gaze fixed on the T-visor of the officer's bucket. "Tell us why this is happening."
"For fek's sake," Officer Kark-head muttered. He motioned to a few of his men. "Stun these three. I don't have time for this."
Traxis looked up, into the muzzle of a standard DC-17, and the blue ring of a stun bolt met his gaze. It bit cleanly through his body-glove and burrowed within his chest, and he sank to the gleaming barracks floor, heavy with regret.
I'm sorry, Stonewall, he thought as his world went black.
Milo relaxed into the Corrie Guards' grip. His stupid plan had worked; his captain would have someone to watch his six. He sighed with relief and let himself be dragged across the rec-room.
As he went, he glanced up and into the eyes of his vode, and a wave of chagrin moved through him. He wished he could make them understand, but it was too late now. He'd made his choice, and silently thanked Traxis for giving him the idea. Trax always reminded him what was really important.
Crest, too, had taught him some measure of irreverence, which he thought had served him well. And Weave, who always knew the right thing to say, and when to say it. Milo's boots slipped on the lip at the door's threshold, and the Guards who held him pulled him along with enough force to wrench his arm from his socket.
"Come on, crazy barve," one of them muttered.
Milo was silent, trying to get one last look at his vode. They were good soldiers and better men, and were obviously a heck of a lot smarter than he was. He was going to miss them. He watched them watching him, until he was taken from the room and into the shadows of the corridors beyond. Shadow Squad had become another part of his past.
A/N: This fic takes place about three years into the Clone Wars. As far as my timeline goes, it takes place about eight months after the events of Untouchable, and about five months after the events of Better; if you are familiar with my other stories, Fearless will supersede the Eye Of the Storm trilogy. While I don't think it's necessary to have read my other stories to understand this one, having done so will enhance your experience. I'll try to note where any references to previous fics occur.
Like most of my stuff, this story is OC-riddled, angsty, and romantic. It's also unapologetically AU. I initially tried to keep it within canon, but canon has thumbed its nose at me one too many times, so you know what? Screw canon. I'll make my own. :)
All song lyrics are reprinted without permission. Disney, not me, owns Star Wars, and if you think I'm making money from writing/posting this, PM me, as I have a Star Destroyer to sell you.
Conversely, all original content is mine. This includes, but is not limited to: characters, races and planets. If you'd like to borrow any of my original content, please read the note on my profile.
Comments, musings, questions, random thoughts...all are welcome with open arms. Complaints will be considered, but probably ignored. Flames will be mocked.
Deep, abiding gratitude to the immensely talented impoeia, whose beta-skills I often and shamelessly call upon. If you have not read her stories, do yourself a favor and let yourself be swept away by her marvelous OCs. :D
Please read and enjoy!
A note on the music:
Each chapter has a "song" that corresponds, which is listed at the outset. Some songs are a backdrop for the events of the chapter, or tie in with the strongest emotional notes, or fit a particular character at a particular moment.
All together, they make a pretty sweet playlist for this fic, the link to which can be found on my author page. It's not complete yet, but I'll be adding songs as we go.
