Chapter Twenty-Five

Even close to the campfire he was creating, cold seeped past the barrier of Rex's insulated jacket and gloves, but he didn't mind the feeling. Like the moonlight that cast everything in silver, the chill sharpened his senses and made him more alert, because out here, under the open, endless sky, he could truly breathe. He could think, not about all the pieces of his life that were crumbling to dust in his hands, but about simple things. Things he could do something about.

Things like the anooba.

In the back of his mind, Rex knew that part of the reason he was so caught up with finding the creature was because it was a distraction from his other, more pressing problems. Perhaps it was also a way for him to exert some kind of control over his discordant life, but he'd pushed the thoughts aside in order to focus on his self-appointed task.

The kriffing thing had eluded him, again. Rex had done nearly a full sweep of this section of the Damaris' land until he realized that the predator was nowhere to be found. He'd debated returning to the ranch, then decided to remain out here, setting up camp for the night, just in case the mountain anooba thought it was safe to make an appearance.

A few meters to his right, well within the glowing perimeter of the portable heat-lamps that he'd brought, Nova stood, head dropped and one rear hoof cocked in her sleep. The quagga's peaceful stance alerted Rex to the fact that the anooba was probably not in the immediate vicinity. Nor would it return, probably, given his presence and that of the fire, which most wild creatures feared.

However, even if it did choose to show up, he was ready. His blaster-rifle was charged and at his side, and as Rex leaned over the beginnings of his campfire – built more for the comforting glow than the heat, which was provided by the lamps – he felt slightly more at ease. Above his head, the part of the sky that was not soaked in the pale light of the moon was coated with stars, as though someone had scattered handfuls of sugar across a dark cloth. The omnipresent Alderaani wind teased his jacket and toyed with the edges of his hat as it rested on his folded knee.

Before him, the flames that he'd coaxed from a bundle of dried kindling began to lick upward in earnest, greedily consuming the timber and growing brighter with each moment. When he was satisfied that the fire would not die anytime soon, Rex sat back on the blanket he'd brought and exhaled as he looked up at the stars. It was nice – more than nice, actually – out here, but despite his best efforts, he could take little comfort in the open sky, not like he used to. While the lamps provided relative warmth, beneath the blanket the ground was cold, hard and unforgiving, and he considered retiring to his tent and trying to sleep, though he remained in place.

He missed Bren.

It didn't matter that he heard her voice every day or was able to sit beside her at dinner, because he was starting to understand that the woman he'd fallen in love with was truly gone, and he didn't know what he was going to do without her.

I wanted us to be a family, he thought, frowning at the fire that could do nothing to warm him. But it's not going to happen, is it? At least not like I hoped. She was so wary and he was terrified of hurting her again, but keeping his distance like this-

It was hard. Harder than anything else he'd ever had to do, and it felt wrong, besides. But what did he know of what she was going through? Rex was a clone. His entire existence was based on the sum of his experience and memories, and he honestly had no idea what he would do if those things – his very identity – were taken away from him. Even knowledge of the clone army's true purpose had not diminished his love for his brothers or his fighting spirit, though it had caused a huge blow to the man he'd thought he'd been.

But Rex thought in a lot of ways he was a new man, now.

He wanted to help Brenna, somehow, he just had no kriffing idea how, and it was starting to be more than he could bear to watch her look at him and know that she was seeing a stranger. He wanted to embrace her, tell her he loved her no matter what and then kiss her senseless, but he was certain that such a thing would only cause more problems than not. In his mind, it didn't matter what he wanted, only what she needed, and he thought that such a thing was not him trying to rush her into remembering what she couldn't, or force her to just accept that they were a family, and go about their lives like everything was normal.

But nothing was normal. He wanted to believe that things would be better, but it was difficult, especially with the woman he loved hurting so much, and with the lack of a cure for his brothers' rapid-aging. Rex felt the weight of that realization settle over him anew. He'd failed Bren, failed his brothers. Only Iri seemed to have come out of things unscathed, though he would have given anything, anything, for her to have her mother whole and healthy again.

Nova's soft whicker broke him out of his thoughts, and he watched as the quagga lifted her head, nostrils flaring and ears pricked forward. A heartbeat later, the rhythmic sound of hooves against the cold ground reached him, and he was on his feet in one fluid motion as the other rider approached.

It only took him a moment to register Bren's figure atop the other quagga, and his heart leaped into his throat as he watched her ride up, pausing about a meter outside of the perimeter of the heat-lamps' warm glow. She was dressed in a similar manner to himself: long, woolen coat, gloves and a scarf, though her head was uncovered and the wind was lifting her hair around her face. Her skin was creamy pale in the moonlight and she was so beautiful he suddenly couldn't look at her directly, so he stepped over and focused on holding her quagga – Rico, he realized – as she dismounted.

Brenna said nothing to him at first, only reached for the nearest saddlebag and began to rummage through its contents, while he gathered Rico's reins and tried not to seem like he was scrutinizing her every movement. What was she doing out here? His mind went to their daughter at first, but if there'd been a real problem with Iri, Brenna likely would have comm'd, or sent one of his brothers out on a speeder to retrieve him. Just as he was about to ask her what was going on, she withdrew a canvas bag and glanced back his way.

"You weren't at the house for dinner," she said as her gloved hand tightened around the bag. "I thought you might be hungry."

He had rations, of course, but the idea that she'd brought him something to eat was heartening, so Rex indicated the blanket where he'd been siting a moment ago, and within a few moments they were seated beside one another, close but not touching, and she was pulling out a variety of plasti-containers. Soon they had an assortment of food between them, and after she handed him a fork, he thanked her, removed his gloves, and began to eat.

The first container held roasted vegetables mixed with chunks of savory nerf, and it was delicious, but his attention was too heavily pulled towards her for him to really focus on the meal. Brenna sat cross-legged, arms folded and resting on her knees, and her face was turned up to the stars. The moon and the fire's glow cast her in silver and gold, and for one moment she looked ethereal, unattainable as a star, but far more beautiful. A slip of wind toyed with the edges of her hair and scarf, causing her hands to lift and rub at her upper arms, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from dropping his food and embracing her in the hope of staving off the chill.

Brenna was no Jedi, no mind-reader, but Rex wanted to think that on some level she still knew him well, so when she glanced at him as if she understood his desire he tried not to seem too eager. When she spoke, her words were quiet against the wind and the darkness beyond the fire. "I don't remember how we met."

From what they could tell, some memories were returning to her, but it was only after she discussed them with someone else who'd been present at the time. She'd been so busy with Iri and with trying to put her own mind back together, he'd been reluctant to push her to remember anything about the two of them, so he chose his words with care and tried to hold his excitement back.

The fork was nearly to his mouth, but he set it down and cleared his throat while he formed his reply. "It was on a Republic warship called the Resolute, just over a year ago."

Her forehead creased as she studied him, and after a moment she frowned down at her gloves. "I don't know...that doesn't seem right, somehow."

"No," he said, wincing at his mistake, made in eagerness. "You're right. We met in a cantina, though we were both serving on the Resolute at the time."

A moment passed, and she frowned again. "We met in a cantina...on Toydaria? No," she added, shaking her head. "Not Toydaria..."

Rex sighed and glanced down at his fork. "Mimban. You're thinking of what we drank. Toydarian Teases."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful, then actually gave a soft chuckle. "You got drunk, right? And tried to kiss me?"

"I was kind of hoping that you wouldn't remember that, of all things," he replied before he could stop himself. However, the instant the words left his mouth he froze, because he didn't think that teasing her – even gently – about her affliction was the best course of action.

But she startled him with her laughter, bright as any fire, and he watched the way her eyes crinkled in amusement when she looked at him. "I remember you nearly fell off of the barstool," she said, giggling in earnest. "And you turned this odd shade of green."

"Don't remind me," he said with an eye-roll, though he was inwardly delighted at her reaction, for now she was grinning at him, back straight while her hands rested in her lap; her eyes were alert and her expression was open and eager.

Feeling hopeful in the direction the conversation had taken, Rex tried to keep the mood casual, so he selected another bite of dinner while he considered his next words. "It wasn't one of my prouder moments," he said at last. "I thought I'd botched the whole encounter."

She shrugged. "Maybe you did, but apparently I didn't hold it against you for too long." There was quiet for a moment more while she seemed to think something over, then she shot him a curious look. "Why do I keep thinking about ration cubes?"

Meal finished, Rex set the container and fork aside, but did not replace his gloves. "That would be because of a joke I played on you on our...second date."

Her brows lifted. "A joke? You?"

"Stranger things have been known to happen," he replied with a half-smile that he knew she liked. Indeed, he watched her return the look as he elaborated. "If you've forgotten how they taste, I envy you."

Bren made a noise of displeasure and her nose wrinkled. "Unfortunately not. That's one of the things that stuck, I guess."

Despite her words he could read amusement in her eyes, so he gave a shrug and an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

Neither one spoke for a few minutes as they watched the fire, which had grown a bit stronger as the time had passed. Rex spared a moment to glance around their immediate area and assess the condition of the camp, the quagga, and the terrain: all appeared to be well. When he looked back at Brenna, she was watching him with an expression he didn't know how to read, anymore.

"You taught me how to fight, didn't you?"

He felt a flash of heat course through him, though whether it was anger or embarrassment, he couldn't have said. Perhaps something of both. His hands were starting to get cold, but rather than replace his gloves, he held them, palms up, to the fire. "I wanted you to be able to protect yourself," he replied. The anger heightened and the embarrassment merged to chagrin, and his hands trembled for all that he tried to keep them steady. "But I failed you."

"Rex-"

"I'm sorry, Brenna," he said, dropping his hands and looking back at her. "I have failed you, again and again, and there's nothing I can do to make it right."

Suddenly she was leaning forward and her hand was on his; the touch of her knitted gloves over his skin was warm and her eyes were fixed on his own. "No, Rex," she said in a deliberate voice. "Because of what you taught me, I was able to defend myself. I was able to kill Arcas and get away, get back here. From a certain point of view, you saved me."

"You've never killed anyone before," he replied, shaking his head. Her touch was welcome, but he couldn't let himself forget the severity of the change within her in the wake of other, more pleasant distractions. "Bren...it wasn't supposed to be like this, for you. I may have taught you how to fight, but I never wanted you to have to do it. It's my job to keep you safe."

"We can't choose what happens to us, sometimes," she said, the words quiet against the crackling of the fire. "Only how we deal with it. I did what I had to do to get back to...you."

Her features softened as she looked at him, and he felt himself trembling from the effort of holding back, of keeping his own selfish desires in check. He had to restrain himself, for her sake. It was the honorable thing to do. It was the right thing to do, especially when he'd faltered at every other step of this journey.

Brenna was no mind-reader, but she knew him well, perhaps in a way that surpassed any sort of memory. Her next words, softly spoken, confirmed his hope, fragile that it still was. "You didn't fail me, Rex."

With that, something broke inside of him. The restraint that he'd worked so hard to fortify fell away, and he gave up, reached for her, cupping her face and hoping his fingers weren't too cold against her skin because he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He tried to keep the kiss light and gentle, but the floodgates within him were down and all of his careful restraint was gone, so he kissed her like it was his last day alive.

Rex let go, and in doing so held her close.

She tasted like Bren, like the woman he loved, and she did not pull away. No, she returned the kiss with a passion that matched his own, and for its duration everything else fell away and they were simply you and me again. Rex's senses swam with Brenna, with her taste, her warmth and her scent, and when he felt her hands reach around the back of his head in an effort to be closer, relief was nearly his undoing.

When they parted to take a breath, he twined his hands in her hair and murmured her name, still half-terrified that he'd gone too far, but still unable to help himself. Everything he'd felt for her, every hope he'd had about the life they could share...they flooded his heart and overran his mind, and he knew he could not hold back any longer. She had to know; he had to tell her.

"I love you," he said in a voice that was too hoarse to be recognizable, and he pressed their foreheads together as if he could transfer his feelings to her through their skin. "Bren, I love you so much, and I miss you more than I can even say, and I'm sorry if this is the wrong thing to do right now, if it's too much too quickly, but I can't hold back any-"

"Rex." Her own voice was breathless and she clasped her hands to his cheeks; their breath mingled between them and her eyes were bright with something that was not firelight. "Stop talking and kiss me again. Please."

He did.

When Rex kissed her, the pieces of Brenna's memory did not fall back into place.

But it didn't matter.

In that moment, with his hands on her skin – a touch that had been absent for far too long – and his taste on her lips, she felt more right than she had since this entire ordeal had begun, and she didn't care that she couldn't remember much, because she had Rex and he had her, and in this moment, it was more than enough. It was everything.

She didn't want to breathe ever again because she never wanted to stop kissing him. Indeed, they parted for a brief gasp of air but she pulled him close again as soon as she could, because she couldn't get enough of his taste, his smell. These things were familiar in a way that went beyond memory, as if Rex's very essence was indelibly written on some part of her consciousness, so that the act of kissing him was like coming home.

But breathing, as it turned out, was a necessity, and just when Brenna felt herself growing a bit lightheaded, Rex pulled back so that they could both catch their breath, though their faces were still close. The campfire beside them tinted his eyes a rich gold, and his gaze on her was filled with love and longing as he held her so that their bodies were pressed close together while they remained seated.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, until he kissed her cheek once, gently. "Do you know how much I've missed you?"

The baritone resonance of his voice sent a shiver through her body, and she felt his arms slip down her back, settling above the curve of her hips. It was an intimate touch, one that was – she realized – wholly welcome. She felt like she belonged here. She felt loved.

Brenna leaned forward, shifting so that she was nearly in his lap, and rested her head against his shoulder while her left hand dropped to the front of his jacket, coming to rest at the place just above his heart, and she savored the way he smelled of leather and starlight. She inhaled, then looked up at him again. "I've missed you, too."

At her words, both of his eyes opened fully upon her, and again she was struck by their color, so like her daughter's: amber, rich and warm, and filled with love. There was only a brief pause before his head dropped and he pressed his lips to her jawline, as if he couldn't stand to be even more than a breath away from her right now.

As he did so, she remembered something. After pausing to remove her gloves, she skimmed her fingers across his jacket, over the place where his heart was sheltered. It was difficult to focus with him so close, with his hands caressing her hips and his mouth lightly kissing the sensitive skin of her neck above her scarf, but she managed.

"A scar," she murmured, the word causing him to grow still. "You have a scar, here. From-" She looked up at him in thought; the memories were faded and tor,n like a flag fraying in the wind, but the strength of his embrace and the overwhelming love in his gaze gave her a new kind of assurance. "From a sniper."

Rex's breath caught and he nodded, his brow creasing as he regarded her, as if he was not quite certain if this was real, as if any moment he'd wake up and this would all be a dream. "Yes."

As she studied him, Brenna lifted her hand and traced two invisible, triangle patterns on his forehead, above each eye. His eyes closed briefly beneath her touch, and she considered her words for one more moment before giving them voice. "You had markings on your helmet," she murmured, watching him as he looked at her. "In blue. They meant that you're brave, right?"

"Jaig eyes," he replied with a nod. "I got them on Kamino."

"I love you," she said, more to reassure him than herself, but she felt heartened by the words, anyway.

He slipped his right hand up to touch her cheek, his thumb grazing across her lips once before he kissed her gently. "Say it again?"

"I love you, Rex." Her voice was still strange, heavy with wonder. It didn't sound quite like her own, but that was okay. This was right.

Brenna reached for him again, because it even the few minutes that had passed since they'd last kissed were too long, and she needed to feel his mouth on hers once more. She whispered the words again, then kissed him as soundly as she could, delighting in the eagerness with which he returned the action, and for the first time in too long she was not afraid of the past or the future, because the present was everything she needed.

This is one of those scenes I've had in my head since the beginning of this story. I'd love to know what you think!

Next time: More Rex/Bren fluff. You have totally earned it. ;)