Glimpses

I

Hevy sat cross-legged in his cell, thinking; being angry at himself. He enjoyed her company. He gave a small frown. Was that wrong?

II

So, what was your childhood like."

"I was never a child," she spat

His brown eyes turned sad and he glanced at the table. "I can understand that."

Her expression changed, becoming softer, more sympathetic. She must have remembered. Clones didn't have a childhood either.

III

"Not that door," called Two as Hevy opened one of the prohibited doors.

"It's the mess, isn't it? Two doors down from my cell." He affirmed as his eyes took in the sight of equipment. He closed the door with a frown as One reached out to grab his arm.

"It's not the mess." Hevy put all the disappointment he could muster in his voice though he wanted to dance in joy. He held his hands so he could count for One. "My cell," he touched one of his outspread fingers and folded it into his fist. He held the remained four fingers to One's ocular. "See, two."

One shook his head. "We'll work on math later, republic dog."

Hevy smiled, in an excellent mood. "Roger, roger."

IV

Hevy pondered through the night. He had plans but couldn't carry them out because of fear that she knew about them. She was his first encounter with a Force sensitive and he had no idea about her abilities. If should could read his mind, he was dead. He shrugged, he was dead anyway, but he'd like to get some more things done.

He cast his mind over the sparring. She'd been angry at him, not realizing that his words concealed his own inadequacies, his own fears. Emotion, especially her own anger, blinded her to the Force.

Getting her angry that often though would lead her to the truth ... or cause his death, neither of which were in his interest.

Emotions were the key though. It was in his mind before he consciously thought of it.

Lust.

Hevy was surprised, scared even, at how easily he could imagine Asajj in his arms.

V

"Where's Asajj?" he asked One casually.

"Speaking with Count Dooku," answered One.

"He's not very happy," chimed in Two.

One looked back at his partner. "He's never happy."

Gossips. Hevy decided, free to think. She was busy and Dooku required all her attention. He knew that much.

All B1 battle droids loved gossip. Often all he had to do was get them started and he learned things; not always useful knowledge, but certainly entertaining.

Sometimes they provided useful information. He knew the location of the armory in the ship, where they were headed, a storeroom of unused parts – oh, that had been valuable and he had confirmed it with the trick of only counting to two. He'd been there the last time Asajj was off the ship on some assignment for the CIS. It hadn't been hard, getting out of his closet-turned-cell.

The problem was keeping the droids gossiping on some topic rather than scattered. And not letting them know how terribly interested he was in all they talked about.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just take a nap." Hevy yawned widely.

"Ok , republic dog." replied Two.

One walked down the hallway, followed by Two. "We'll collect you later." He raised his three-fingered arm in a sort of optimistic wave. "If you can count to three tomorrow, republic scum, perhaps we can go to four." Hevy heard his words to Two as they turned the corner. "Do you think all humans are so dumb or is it only clones?"

Hevy lay on his side, facing the wall. He pulled the blanket over his shoulder and smiled as he programmed the small transmitter under the cover.

The hardest part was not thinking of plans and what he knew when he was with Asajj.

VI

Hevy pulled his punch.

Her favorite forms were the swirling, circular motions of echani. He didn't have any favorite form, basing his usage on efficiency; on whatever worked the best in any given circumstance.

They had been sparring and he had moved from the graceful circling motions of echani into the linear forms of wrruushi with deadly swiftness. Even as he was rotating his trunk, his left arm circling, deflecting her blow, his right hand had not moved into the customary wrist hold that followed in classic echani, but had balled into a fist and shot into her face.

Hevy was angry at himself, suspecting he'd told her much more about clones with that punch than she'd known before; more than he had ever intended letting her know. Not only the fighting skills of the clones but the speed at which they could change, not locked into one form or another even as they fought. The flexibility that could win wars. They had no inhibitions in fighting and would move into street fighting as easily as they used the more classical styles; both on an individual as well as group basis. Fight was both reaction and action. The clones were trained in combat, in war, but fighting was life. Clones had no inhibitions in fighting.

He had pulled back at the last instant; his emotions pride, confusion and then a tiny flame of concern.

Her face had reflected that child-like lost look for only an instant as she felt his emotions. Then she'd known, realized what that strike had told her.

Hevy was angry with himself. He'd also broken her nose.

VII

Hevy escaped the next day. They found him in the room with the two bacta tanks, looking over his armor, his helmet in his hands. He was sitting cross-legged on the counter and barely looked up at their intrusion.

He held up his back plate for her inspection and nodded. "With these scars on my armor, I'd be the envy of half the GAR." Then he looked at her, remembered how he envisioned her the night previous. The lust came immediately. "I don't suppose you could let me go back for one day... just to show off my battle scars?" He smiled softly. "I promise I'd return." He would too, if he gave his promise. He imagined running his hands over her slender waist, kissing her mouth, possessing her in the most intimate way. Even though Hevy wasn't sure how that might be, his body knew. He was shocked at the response it provoked in himself. He saw her startled look, for a split instant, lost, like a child . . . he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

Hevy pushed himself off the table walked to face her and raised his fingers toward her face. His fingers trembled but he would have touched her, would have taken her in his arms.

If she hadn't spun around and left the room, issuing orders to One and Two to return him to the cell.

His knees were shaky and he told himself it was just because he was sure the message had gone through.

He knew he lied to himself. Again. He always knew when he lied to himself.

He wondered if Jedi lied to themselves. He looked down the hall where Asajj had angrily stalked off. Did Sith lie to themselves? Do Force sensitives? Did everyone?

Echani and Wrruushi are both martial arts from Wookiepedia. Thank you, Wookiepedia.

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