Braid

Oh-eight - Retreat from Hamura

It was a reasonably ordered retreat. Oh-eight thought of several possible counters to the rebel attacks, but the captain didn't ask for his opinion. Oh-eight had done his best to keep a look for any deserter clones when he realized the Hamuran's had gotten reinforcements but he didn't see any. He might have stayed on the planet, 'accidently' been left-behind and sought out Are, but the captain was there yelling them into the gunship.

Oh-eight gazed down at the white-shrouded planet as the transport bucked and twisted away from incoming rebel starfighters. The rebels were backed by, not one, but two destroyers. He twisted his head, but the helmet was a bother, so he quickly removed it to press closer to the glassteel panel. The trooper between him and the panel moved quickly out of his way and Oh-eight grunted something between thanks and acknowledgement. One of the destroyers looked Mon Calimar the other… he narrowed his eyes. Corellian? Maybe? Did that indicate a coalition?

His eyes drifted away from the frenzied battle. There was something pristine about space. Oh-eight sometimes wished he was a pilot. He remembered a long time ago, perhaps four years back. Before the Imperial Army. Before the Citadel. When they'd been clonetroopers instead of stormtroopers, when they'd been on the Resolute. Him and… his mind ran through names, stuttering over only one. It had been after battle and they were jet packing over the free-floating battlefield detritus searching for two starfighters. They found them too. A live Broadside in a dead ship and Giz peacefully frozen, his fighter shot through with a dozen penetrations but not a scratch on his body.

They'd found something – or someone – else also. An odd black and white furred creature even the medical droid couldn't identify, tucked in what could only be an evacuation capsule because there were no controls. It looked as though it had been peacefully asleep only moments although by the pitting of the capsule the droid estimated it had been frozen nearly a quarter million years. That couldn't be too bad to die like that, could it? To float forever between stars and suns and galaxies? To look as if a hand on your shoulder or a loud noise might wake you?

Oh-eight's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of one of the rebel fighters. It was moving fast, a white streak trimmed with royal blue, followed by two of the Imperial fighters. The colors of the 501st had caught his attention. Another rebel broke off to assist but was quickly forced back to the general melee. Another Imperial starfighter joined the chase. One of the troopers next to Oh-eight gave a short laugh.

"They've got him now." There was a general agreement among the others but Oh-eight softly shook his head.

"I don't think so," he murmured slowly as he wondered when he'd seen that maneuver before. "The rebel fighter is going to…" He shut his lips and stood straight in the gunship. For his own sake and peace of mind he hoped they took out the little rebel ship. For the sake of everything else he hoped the rebel fighter eluded the pursuers.

A fourth Imperial fighter came at the ship from an oblique angle, blaster fire so close to the rebel, Oh-eight was sure it left a streak of burnt black on the white fighter. There was a collective gasp from the troopers viewing.

"Care to wager, ARC eight?" The captain stared at him.

"No." Oh-eight turned back to the fight, a spectator to the dizzying spiral of the starfighters as their own transport waited for entry clearance and eluded stray blaster rounds.

He'd seen General Skywalker tease up to eight vultures into chasing him then pick them off by flipping upside down or by spiraling them around one of the larger ships in tighter and tighter spirals until they hit an antenna or some other barely-noticeable protuberance and, knocked off-balanced, careened double-destructively into the larger ship.

"It's a wager then," said the captain, ignoring his words. "You're backing the rebel."

"I like the colors," Oh-eight said softly, remembering when he'd been someone else. "My armor used to…" He let the words fade as another Imperial craft took up the chase. Five must have been this pilot's limit. The little craft began the long, swift spiral around the Imperial destroyer. Oh-eight could hear other wagers being made but his eyes and mind were on the little craft, streaking and twisting through the multiple dimensions of space. Then he turned away, shoved his helmet viciously over his head and moved away from the panel.

He didn't care who won. He'd lost either way.

Are - Home

Even wrapped in Rex's heavy coat, Kix was shivering by the time Are and Rex got him to the main cabin.

"I'll be fine," he was saying. "It's just a chill and I'll get warm under blankets."

"You get the brace off him, get him in bed and covered," Rex ordered Are. Then he turned to Kix and spoke more gently. "You don't have endurance anymore, Kix. I don't want that chill to become anything else. Anything worse."

Kix nodded, too obviously exhausted to argue.

"I'll get his coat from the back." Rex let the weight he'd been carrying slide onto Are's shoulder. There was a moment's pause then Rex, seeing Are knew how to take the weight off Kix's bad leg, continued speaking. "He likes sleeping with it as well."

"Fine, Rex. Tell all my secrets," muttered Kix. "And don't forget my cane."

"I didn't leave it next to the cargo hold door by accident, Kix." Are spoke shyly. There was a moment's stillness then Rex roared his laughter and clapped Are on the shoulder.

"You'll be in good hands, Kix." His grin was tight but genuine. "We'll be underway within a quarter day, Are. I'll make sure you get some food shortly but I have to talk with Ghost before we're gone from Hamura."

Kix grumbled until he reached the room. It was a small room with an attached refresher. There was a table, flimsis neatly stacked on a corner, and two chairs, one like Are had never seen before – padded and made for relaxing with a rest for the legs. It was close to the door and he started to guide Kix to it.

"No, Are." Kix corrected and gestured toward the bed. "I'll need the bed and as soon as I'm down…" He took a deep breath. "As soon as I'm down I won't be able to get up."

So Are, his arm around Kix, mostly carried him to the bed. It was larger than two troopers' racks combined and Are stared at it for a moment. Then he gently helped Kix to sit on its edge and pulled a blanket, fine and luxurious, over his shivering shoulders.

"Anodyne, first." Kix's voice was regretfully somber and darkly sardonic. "I'll need it."

Are found the medical supplies where Kix directed and he thought he knew this was Kix's regular room not simply a makeshift place for him on someone's ship. "Is this your home, Kix?"

Kix was thoughtful for a moment then he snorted. "As much as anyplace, I guess. I've spent a lot of time here."

Are nodded as he handed Kix the pain-killer and water. His fingers moved along the brace and undid all the buckles and straps.

"Check me, Kix," he asked and Kix did, making sure everything was loose before letting Are remove the apparatus of straps and metal. The breath that came from his lips was almost a soft cry and Are was glad Kix had remembered the anodyne first.

That will be my task from now on. Are decided.

"Does it always hurt?" Are held the brace in one hand as he stood, his other hand supporting Kix with a light palm on his back.

Kix didn't answer the question but he held on to Are's arm as he slowly laid back. "Gently, Are. Gently lift my leg to the bed."

"I was hoping to get your clothes off, too, Kix."

Kix gave a short laugh and Are blushed at the implication. "I mean, your clothes are at least two days dirty and maybe you could use a bit of cleaning. I didn't mean…" He lost words.

There'd been some troopers at camp, when he'd just arrived, who'd shared the warmth of his body, making him touch them in sexual ways. Are hadn't really enjoyed it. The illusion of being liked during the night had not really been worth the price paid. He had only wished they'd been so kind in the day; maybe then it would have been worthwhile.

Kix nodded, his hand still on Are's, but he sat up again and quickly pulled off the vest and the sweater. Under that was a soft grey shirt with some black thread decoration at the wrist and neckline; beneath that was a worn trooper glove. Are took those from him and set them on the relaxing chair after making sure the blanket was around Kix's chest. He'd find out where they belonged and put them up later. Kix's ribs were evident and he seemed a bit thin to Are's eyes.

Kix's hands moved to his waist and he unfastened his outer trousers. Are was unsurprised to see the bottom half of a body glove.

"I'll need help for this part, Are." Kix said wearily.

Are gave a single nod. "I know. You tell me what to do; best way Kix. No hurry."

It was simple and surprisingly intimate. Kix laid back and Are gently teased the trousers down his legs, Kix's long, strong fingers guiding Are then pulling away as Are's hands moved further out of reach. Are then rolled the body glove material down in the same fashion, Kix's hands resting lightly on his. As Are finished pulling each part of the trouser he made sure to cover more of Kix with the blanket.

A massive bundle of scar tissue curled around Kix's waist; from just in front of his hip bone around his waist to his back. Though some of the muscles of his bad leg had withered, there were no scars on his leg.

Kix yawned, the anodyne taking effect, as he gestured at the scarred mass. "SCI. Spinal cord injury, partial lateral lesion." His eyes were mostly closed. "I'd really appreciate not being cleaned as if I were helpless." He yawned again. "I'm not."

"We'll wait then, Kix." Are told the sleeping man.

There was a soft knock on the door as Are was folding the clothes and Are opened it.

It was the Togrutan co-pilot. She was as young as Are had thought, but she moved with quiet self-assurance as she entered the room and set the tray of food on the table. She smiled as Are's eyes grew big. "Since you're awake, I guess you get first choice."

The coat draped over her arm, she took to the bed and tucked it around Kix, pressing the hood near the side of his head. Even in sleep, his fingers clutched at the leather and fur.

"I'll wait for Kix," Are began, but she chuckled.

"You'll starve before he wakes up. Here." She grabbed something and pressed it into his hand then grabbed one for herself and took a large bite from one end. Emboldened by her example Are took a bit and hunger immediately slammed to the forefront of his perceptions.

"Nerf steak slices and bithbean rollup with aeoli spread." She said, covering her chewing mouth with a hand. "Rex's favorite." She swallowed. "Kix's too, for that matter."

"Mmm, mmmf. Mmmne foo." Are replied as he tapped himself on the chest then swallowed the half-chewed bite of something delicious. "Mine too."

She smiled at him and took a second rollup, Are tentatively reached out to claim another. She nodded as she chewed then swallowed. "I'm Ahsoka Lawquane. You're probably famished, I'll leave the rest for you and Kix." She pointed to a small closet. "I don't know if you've had time to explore, but there's a small conservor in there." She glanced at Kix. "How is he doing?" She looked at Are with clear blue eyes. "How did you do?"

"I must have done ok," admitted Are around the mouthful of food. "He was almost asleep before I got the pants down his knees. I was going to clean him but he asked not."

"Well," her lips twisted and Are was afraid for a moment she was angry with him then realized it was worry. "Sleep is more important for now, but when he wakes up do try to get food down him." She continued frowning at the sleeping man and gestured at a covered dish on the tray. "Even if it's just the soup. Cleanliness can wait."

"He doesn't eat enough," said Are in question as his brows drew down. "I thought he looked less muscular but I didn't know for sure." He paused. "There was only Kamino and Hamura for comparison."

"No," the woman whispered. "Not nearly enough. But it's because he hurts so much." She looked into Are's eyes with her own; hers were pools of blue like the sky and he realized he'd never seen eyes that color. Then he ducked his head.

"Leave him his dignity, Are. As much as possible but not at the cost of his health." Her hand touched the sleeping man, her fingers ruffled through his hair. "It's getting long," she murmured absently. "Touch him, Are. As much as you can. Scrubbing his back – there's a chair for him in the shower and he hates it but make him use it." Are nodded at the command and she continued, sitting on the edge of the bed next to the sleeping Kix. "Even just touching his shoulders; a massage or a hug. He needs it."

Are nodded. "Food and touch. Yes, sir. I can do that." He frowned. "A hug leads to sex doesn't it? I can," he paused then continued after a thought. "I can do that."

"Not always, Are." She shook her head. "Kix won't make that assumption. He won't ask anything of that nature from you." From the look on her face, Are suspected there might be more to know and understand.

Are nodded with a swallow. "I didn't like sex with my brothers." He said it as if ashamed, as if he owed his brothers compliance because he wasn't as good as them.

She touched his face lightly with her hand, her fingers against his cheek. "I don't think any of your brothers treated you with kindness."

"Oh-eight did. I mean Echo. He didn't make me do anything like that." Are looked down at her then sat softly next to her on the edge of the bed. "But I think," he began slowly, "that I wouldn't have minded if he had. Sometimes when I had nightmares, he'd rub my back or my hair." He gestured to her fingers caressing Kix. "Once he hugged me next to him all night because I'd been crying. I reached to…" Are paused, deep in memory. "But he just said no, he wanted to hold me so I would be warm and sleep." Are sighed deeply. "Maybe he was just tired and needed me to be quiet so he could sleep."

The ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "Not Echo. He held you for comfort. Yours. Probably his as well."

"How do you know?" Are didn't doubt that she knew.

"Echo could sleep through anything." She wiped at the dampness threatening to fall down her cheeks.

Are nodded and tentatively touched her face liked she'd touched his. She didn't jerk or push his hand away.

"Can I ask a question?" Are drew his hand back to his side.

"You want to know why we decided to accept that you're not a spy?"

Are nodded slowly. "I was thinking it's because I don't have a personality."

"You have one, Are. A very nice personality from what I can tell so far." She paused. "Kix says they didn't flash one into you, but a personality develops in reaction to what we've been exposed to. You're just young and unsure. Everyone is unsure when they're young."

Are gave her a hesitant smile and straightened as he sat listening to her.

"To answer your question; someone flash-drilled wouldn't think about anything that might jeopardize the mission. Rex and Kix kept letting you believe you wouldn't be able to stay. An infiltrator would not have gone to Kix's aid in the interview. That was the price Kix bargained for with Rex. If he fell, then you'd been flash-drilled to disregard anything not mission-critical and were a spy. You disregarded everything in favor of making sure Kix wasn't injured further; making sure he was comfortable." She spread her russet-hued hands palms up. "Does that answer your question?"

He nodded but frowned slightly and she tilted her head waiting for his words.

"Does this mean I belong here?" The furrows in his brow deepened and he tried to hide his hope. "Does this mean I'm home?"

"If you want, Are." Ahsoka replied quietly. "Ultimately that will be your decision. For now, I'd say yes."

He nodded, speechless, but his Force aura glowed with happiness.

Fives - Assignment on Aldaraan

There was a tentative knock, almost inaudible, at the heavy wooden door and Fives wondered if it was Celly returning for several of the garments of an intimate nature she'd left behind. Fives smiled as he rose from the massive bed and pulled a robe over his lean frame. She was round faced, like her sister-in-law and distant cousin, the Queen of Aldaraan, but rounder and softer in form. After all the deprivations and hardship Fives had seen, after the hardened bodies and harder faces of women fighters, her giggling plumpness was a delight to his flesh. He'd been instantly attracted and she had tilted her eyes flirtingly in his direction.

He moved silently, by habit, with a warming smile on his face. He had escorted her to one of the large balcony gardens and, after a banquet of kisses, she had suggested a more intimate place and a more vigorous activity.

Unlike most of the participants of the dinner party, she knew he was not a 'distant cousin' of Bail Organa but Celly was the least politically astute and most intelligent of Bail's sisters. She knew what she didn't want to know. When she'd seen the large scar on his shoulder, the other, smaller scars on his body, her fingers had brushed against them softly and her lips had kissed them. But she didn't ask.

There was no one at the door he barely opened. He signed in disappointment then felt a soft tug on his robe and looked down.

She was a solemn child; dark haired with velvet-dark eyes as large as one of the moons that circled overhead. She was dressed in the long robes befitting a princess of Aldaraan though someone had started to undress her for bed and half the intricate braids he'd seen at the dinner were undone, leaving the child with a half-finished look. She carried a ragged doll in one tiny fist.

Fives looked down the hallway for her escort. He'd seen the child earlier, sitting at her mother's side and very passably handling the myriad selection of eating utensils at the state dinner. More passably, he knew, than he had done.

What was a child doing wandering around the dark warrens of Aldera Royal Palace's lower level? What the kriff was the royal princess of Aldaraan doing wandering around without an escort?

Her solemn face lifted to his and she gave a small sigh. Fives supposed she might be lost and tired. Where was her minder? Her entourage? Where was a palace guard? Fives glanced both ways down the short hall and saw no one. Why wasn't there some sort of alarm, some sort of rushing around in search of her?

A line of caution threaded down his spine.

She lifted both hands up then looked at the doll hanging raggedly from one clenched fist. She brought her hands down again and moved to one side of the door, tucking the doll in a seated position at the corner of wall and floor under a small table. Then she moved back in front of Fives – kriff, he should have closed the door – and lifted her empty hands.

Fives let go of a huff of air as he bent and lifted her. She settled comfortably on one arm, her head tucked again his neck. "Let's go find someone to take you off my hands, royal brat." He glanced down as her stocking foot slid against his bare chest. "After I dress."

I am going to lodge a complain with the Muses Guild. I did not sign up for where this is heading... another 50,000 words or so.

*grumble, grumble* I have taxes to do!

Oh well, enjoy. Read and review.