Dedicated to everyone who ever doubted their worth. You're all priceless, no matter what anyone else tries to tell you.

"I'll start," Anakin said, and Rex really wished he wouldn't. Allow me to just freeze in peace, sir. "What's your favorite color?"

"Uh… sir?"

"C-come on," his general prompted through lightly chattering teeth. "We have to keep our minds active."

Do we really have to?

A crash land on Koridia was already not the way Rex had wanted his day to go, and now his general had to make it worse by forcing them to play some silly child's game.

He couldn't even manage to crash us in the warm, tropical sector of the planet, Rex thought grimly as he shot a glance at Skywalker. Typical.

Seriously, I thought he was supposed to be one of the best pilots in the galaxy…

"Favorite color?"

And Rex bit back a sigh. When he signed up to be a soldier, he definitely did not sign up for this.

Actually, I didn't sign up… I didn't sign up for any of this.

"Blue," Rex replied, earning an eye roll from the Jedi huddled beside him.

Skywalker made a show of studying the blue paint on his armor and the similarly colored kama around his waist. "Seriously?"

"Fine." And Rex wished he had his helmet on, not only to keep away the chill, but also to hide the annoyance he so desperately wanted to exhibit. But the close confines of the helmet didn't allow for the best intake of breath and Rex's breathing was already bordering on labored from the cold.

Most people said he and Skywalker made a good team, almost as good as the Skywalker/Kenobi duo—though he was sure they'd never be nearly as iconic—and Rex was inclined to agree. Only, lately, as the first year of the war drew to a close, Rex couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been roped into a life he never would've chosen otherwise.

Not if the choice had been left up to him.

"Uh… Orange." Rex finally replied, if only to pacify his general. "You?"

Because if he had to answer these silly, unimportant questions, so did Skywalker.

"Blue, I guess?" Anakin shrugged, wrapped his arms tighter around his chest.

Rex has to resist the urge to elbow him—because that was definitely against protocol. One didn't simply just elbow their commanding officer in the ribs. "So, it can be your favorite color but not mine?"

"Oh please, just because it's the color you wear, doesn't mean it's your favorite."

True.

Rex had never quite cared for the color blue, probably because it reminded him too much of the endless seas of Kamino. Though, some days, the waters were more grey…

But, the color had grown on him—at least, the 501st shade of blue had. He couldn't say the same of the other shades.

"Okay," Skywalker went on, "favorite animal? Mine's definitely a Loth-Cat"

Rex shivered, his only defense now against the cold. "I-I don't know… A vulptex, maybe?"

"You mean those crystal creatures on Crait? Have you ever even seen one of those in real life?"

"I've seen pictures. Do you have to have seen it in person to like it?"

"Nah," Skywalker replied, leaning back against the frozen rock wall, then quickly sitting back up again with a shiver. "I guess not. All right, favorite number?"

"Does this really matter, sir?"

"I'm just trying to keep us thinking so we don't zone out and eventually fall asleep. Pretty soon, this cold is going to turn into warmth as hypothermia sets in, and when that happens, it's gonna be really easy to slip into unconsciousness." He shook his head. "We can't let that happen. Not if we want to make it out of here alive."

"W-When did you say help was gonna arrive, s-sir?"

Skywalker heaved a sigh. "I commed the nearest troops less than five minutes ago, so probably not for some time. Ahsoka was able to make it to the rendezvous point with the rest of the boys."

The ones we didn't lose in the crash, at least.

Rex braced himself against the onslaught of pain that accompanied the memory. So many fallen brothers.

"Some time… Meaning an hour, sir? Two hours? Or fifteen to twenty minutes?"

Cracking a smile, Skywalker shrugged. "Hopefully closer to the last one. Now, favorite number?"

"Five."

"Ten."

"Why ten, sir?"

Another shrug. "That's how many years I spent being Obi-Wan's Padawan. Why five?"

"That's how many clones there are in a batch, in a squad—at least, a training squad on Kamino. And, I guess it's in my CT number, so there's that, too."

With a thoughtful nod, Skywalker pressed forward. "Favorite… food?"

"Sir,"—and Rex did not whine—"permission to speak freely?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?" When Rex didn't respond, his general nodded. "Yeah, of course, Rex. Consider yourself off-duty for now."

"Sir… This is getting… uh, boring."

Chuckling turned to shivering, and Skywalker nodded again. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Okay… uh… How about we turn it into a guessing game?"

"Guessing, sir?"

"Yeah. Come on, guess my favorite food."

Well, that was easy. Whenever they were reduced to eating rations on a battle campaign, Skywalker would always say—every kriffing time—"these are nothing compared to…" or "I sure wish I had some…"

"Deep-fried nuna legs," Rex replied with ease.

The Jedi just blinked.

"Sir, everyone knows that's your favorite food. You don't let us forget it."

"Ha, yeah, well… All right, your favorite food has to be…"

And the joke was on Skywalker this time because Rex didn't have a favorite—

"It has to be those weird little jelly orbs we had on Tessla. The ones they piled on top of cream and called it dessert."

Now, it was Rex's turn to blink in surprise. "Sir, how did you…?"

"Please," Skywalker replied with a grin, "you and Jesse were practically salivating over them."

"We were not."

"Were to. Fives always said you had a big sweet tooth, but I never knew to what extent until those little jelly balls."

That particular dessert had been very good, and Rex would be lying to say he hadn't scoured the holonet for the recipe, with no luck.

"Was n-not," Rex murmured, cursing his chattering teeth. Still, it filled him with warmth to know that his general cared enough to notice and remember such things.

He couldn't remember anyone other than his brothers ever doing something like that…

"Your turn."

Rex merely cocked a brow at his general's prompting. "I already guessed yours, s-sir."

Skywalker shook his head. "It's your turn to ask a question."

The cynical part of Rex was itching to test his general, to make him try and guess something only Rex's closest brothers knew the answer to, just to see how perceptive the Jedi truly was.

The other part of him, the part that wasn't absolutely freezing todeath with the cold, was curious… How much did Skywalker notice when Rex thought no one was paying attention?

"Uh… I don't really wanna do this, s-sir."

"Come on, Rex. It's hard enough to speak as it is in all this c-cold. Drop the s-sir, will you?"

"All right, si—All r-right."

"Any question will work."

"Sir…"

"Rex…" It was the grin that sent the captain over the edge. "Come on, you've been in a rotten mood ever since we left the Resolute. You need to loosen up a little."

"Well, forgive me if I'm not as excited about answering questions as you are, sir."

Shooting him a look that Rex could've sworn was tinged with a hint of concern, Skywalker pressed on. "Fine! Fine. And call me Anakin, will you?"

Not likely, sir.

"Here, I'll do the next one. Uh…" The Jedi closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought, and Rex wondered why they couldn't just freeze in peace without playing the sort of game little girls played when they got together with their friends. "Oh! Okay, here it is: favorite memory. Guess mine."

Rex blinked. "How on H-Hoth am I supposed to guess that?"

"Just try."

With a huff, Rex wracked his brain, settling for a wild guess—because what else was he supposed to do? "Uh, I don't know… When you… built your first lightsaber."

"Uh…" Skywalker looked sheepish now for some reason. "Heh, yeah. It is. Well, it's one of my favorite memories. I don't think you can choose just one. But yeah, I was having a really tough time putting it together. The rest of my class had already finished theirs and, well, I guess it made me f-feel… slow, inadequate. Anyway, Obi-Wan came alongside and h-helped me craft it. He even said he'd gone through the same thing at my age." He shrugged. "Our apprenticeship t-together wasn't always the best—I definitely made it difficult many times—but that was one of the first times I t-truly felt close to my Master, connected in a way I used t-to… Well, connected like I used to be with my m-mom."

Rex was silent, choosing to nod his understanding instead of using up more of his fast draining energy.

"My t-turn."

"M-Maybe we should stop," Rex suggested, noticing the way his general's skin was slowly starting to turn from frost-bitten red to a pale blue. "I don't th-think—"

"We need t-to keep t-talking," Skywalker insisted. "So we d-don't freeze before they g-get here. Now… My t-turn. Your favorite memory is…"

"S-Sir… I mean, Anakin," Rex amended when his general fired a death glare his way, "this isn't necessary—"

"Shh! I'm trying t-to concentrate. Uh… It probably has s-something to do with Cody, right?"

"Probably." In all honesty, Rex didn't know. There were too many memories to take into consideration, to sift through and label bad or good.

It was easier just to forget about them. That way, he wouldn't have to remember…

"Okay, my wild guess is th-that your favorite memory has something to do with when you b-became Captain. Maybe Cody celebrated with y-you or s-something like that…"

Rex shook his head, willing the unpleasant memories of Kamino to remain buried under the layers of years passed. "Sure. S-Something like that."

Skywalker shot him a knowing look. "But that's n-not it, is it?"

Again, Rex shook his head. "No. I didn't know C-Cody when I found out I was gonna be a captain." It was Skywalker's raised brow that prompted Rex to continue. "I didn't even ask t-to be chosen for the Command Track. They just t-told me where to g-go and what to do." What to be.

"So, you don't like being C-Captain?" And Rex wasn't sure if it was the whipping wind or the cold affecting his ears, but he could've sworn the general sounded a bit hurt.

"No, I d-do. It's just… Well, I guess it would've been n-nice to be given that choice."

With a nod, Skywalker's voice took on a more somber tone. "Yeah… Something tells me that wasn't the only choice the Kaminoans t-took from you."

Rex pursed his lips. "No, it wasn't."

Skywalker swore under his breath. "Well, what did you g-get to choose?"

"How I painted my armor and h-how I styled my h-hair." The answer was so easy, it was almost sickening.

But Rex was used to it by now, having accepted long ago that this was just the way things were.

Skywalker's eyes shown with a new understanding. "That's why s-so many of you guys get t-tattoos."

Rex nodded.

"S-So why don't you have one?"

"I think I already s-stand out enough as it is." And had his fingers not been so stiff with the cold, he would've ran a hand over his buzzed head.

Skywalker just raised a brow, but before he could even open his mouth again, Rex cut in with his own question.

"S-So… Is it m-my turn?" Because playing the stupid game was far more appealing than answering his general's questions about Kamino.

"What do you m-mean?"

"Uh… the game?" Had Skywalker forgotten already?

"No, I'm t-talking about you standing out. What was that supposed t-to mean?"

Isn't it obvious? Rex wanted to scream. No, what he wanted was to drop this conversation.

"Well, I am the o-only soldier in the 501st with b-blond h-hair," Rex replied, trying—and failing—to keep the sass out of his voice.

"What?" Skywalker seemed more confused than ever, now. "You don't like your hair color?"

"It hasn't always been the e-easiest to fit in with it."

"Why'd you ch-choose it, then?"

"Sir… I mean, Anakin," Rex began slowly as he realized what his general was getting at. "I d-didn't dye my h-hair."

"What?"

"I came out of the t-tank this way." Briefly closing his eyes, Rex sucked in a breath. "Two of my b-batchmates came out with d-defects. Me and CT-7568. His defect was a b-bit more noticable and… Well, h-he didn't survive long enough to get a n-name."

In an instant, Skywalker's blue orbs had frozen over with an ice thicker than any icecap on this kriffing planet and the mere sight of them gave Rex a sharp jolt.

"You mean to t-tell me that the Kaminoans killed him just because h-he didn't look like all the others?"

"Sir," Rex sighed, feeling suddenly very fatigued, "I d-don't really want to talk about this anymore…"

"That's not r-right, Rex," Skywalker breathed before slamming his fist into the floor of the small cave. "How dare they? Kriff! I th-thought I'd escaped all that, yet here I am, fighting to protect the very monsters I th-thought I'd left behind for good!"

It was Rex's turn to be confused and he raised an icy brow. "Sir?"

"The Kaminoans think they're s-so high and mighty—perfect citizens and b-brilliant scientists of the Republic. But they're n-nothing more than filthy slavers!"

Rex paled at the thought. He recalled learning from someone, somewhere, that his general had been a slave as a child…

But surely there's a difference between life on Kamino and Tatooine…

"Wanna bet?"

Rex whipped his head to the side, eyeing Skywalker with lids that he hoped weren't insanely wide. Had he really said that out loud? Kriff!

Skywalker's eyes were hard now, burning with the memories he was no doubt reliving. "Gardulla the H-Hutt would have anyone who messed up or displeased her executed on the spot. At the slave markets, the ones who didn't sell—the weak ones—were never h-heard from again."

And this time, Rex found this was one sick game he was too curious to pass up. Still, his mouth felt too dry to speak. What was he even supposed to say?

"Every slave had a chip implanted in their skin to keep them from escaping," Skywalker confided, clearly hoping to prompt Rex along. "When I was freed by Qui-Gon, Watto didn't even b-bother to remove it himself. He just deactivated it, the barve. Master Vokara Che had to surgically take it out—after she even found it."

Swallowing, Rex didn't quite meet his general's eyes, staring instead at the dark plate of armor fixed against his chest and shoulders.

He sucked in a deep breath. "The Kaminoans would lock the younger c-cadets in their rooms at night to make sure they didn't break curfew. The only t-time you didn't get your quarters locked from the outside was during squad training… And that's only at the very end of it all."

"Watto would h-hit my mom when she did something he didn't like or said the wrong things," Skywalker went on, his gaze drifting to the small section of cave wall directly above Rex's head.

"The Kaminoans would use c-corporal punishment to handle any misbehaving or mischievous young cadets."

Rex distinctly remembered one of his batchmates, Rik, taking the fall for him when they were kids. He shouldn't have done that…

Even now, Rex felt guilty for so indirectly hurting his brother.

"Mom and I never got to t-take a sick day."

"My brothers and I learned quickly that you couldn't get s-sick on Kamino. The ones who did and couldn't hide it until they got better were taken away." Rex clenched a fist. "Apparently, clones are supposed to get s-sick. We're not engineered that way."

"Yeah? Tell that to F-Fives."

Rex nodded grimly, remembering the Felucian Tropical Fever his brother had picked up on their last campaign to the colorful jungle planet. The poor ARC had been sick for weeks after that and it was all Kix could do to keep it from spreading throughout the ranks.

"When my mom and I were enslaved to Gardulla, we never had time to ourselves. Watto was a little bit better at that… but not by much."

"The only down time I ever h-had," Rex admitted, "always pertained to some form of training, whether it was target practice or reading the reg manuals."

"Gardulla never called us by our real names…" And there was an even harder edge to the general's voice this time around. "Just slave, girl, or boy." He spat the last word with a vigor that drew Rex's gaze up to lock on his general's.

And for a moment, it felt as if they were delving deep into each other's souls. Rex shivered, feeling the full force of the pain behind Anakin's eyes and knowing it was reflected in his own amber orbs.

"The Kaminoans…" Rex swallowed so hard, it hurt. "They never called us by our names… They refused to. We were just numbers to them… just units—products. Their neatly numbered creations…" He shook his head, averting his eyes once more. "We're still just numbers to them."

The pain that had begun to well up in Rex's chest suddenly became unbearable and he curled in on himself, a feeble defense against the cold.

And against the memories.

"I…" He said before Anakin could take his turn again—and he wondered when exactly Skywalker had become Anakin. "I-I don't want to play this game anymore, sir."

"Rex," Anakin said quietly, "it wasn't a game. And no matter what you or your brothers were trained to believe, you aren't just a number to me. You never were and you never will be. Other Jedi like Obi-Wan might be softer, more understanding, and less, well, volatile and unpredictable than I am. But I do have a deeper understanding of sentient life than anyone else in the order. I know the true value of a being because I've seen it taken away so often in my childhood. And when someone tries to tell you you're worth little or nothing at all, that's when you have to remind yourself that you're worth more than ten of them put together."

Rex felt himself nodding against the chill that gnawed at his flesh.

"That's a concept I struggled with for months after coming to live at the Temple…" Anakin sucked in a breath before continuing. "It was Obi-Wan who taught me where my true value lies and how to keep my self worth from changing every time someone tries to degrade me. Rex, I played that 'boring game' with you earlier not only to keep us conscious, but to prove to you that you're valuable to me. That you're more than just a number. And no matter what you do or what you look like, your value never changes. You're worth the same today as you were yesterday, and you'll be worth that much tomorrow and the day after. You and every single one of your brothers."

"How,"—And Rex silently cursed his voice for cracking, but he just had to know…—"How much are we worth, sir?"

"You're priceless."

Rex blinked, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears biting the back of his eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, and while he'd always known his general was different than most, much like General Kenobi, he hadn't known the depth of his caring.

Until now.

He found himself searching Anakin's face for any signs of trickery, of some sick sort of humorous deceit, but discovered only truth and sincerity.

"Let me guess," Anakin went on with a small smile, filling the gap created by Rex's silence, "no one's ever told you that before?"

Rex just shook his head dumbly.

"Well, I have the honor of being the first, then. And I can promise you that I won't be the last."

"Sir, I—"

"Anakin, Rex. Remember, you're off duty."

Right.

Still, the name felt odd on his tongue. "Anakin, I… Thank you. For reminding me why I'm here." At this, Anakin quirked a brow. "Because you're valuable, too… And it's an honor to serve under you as your captain."

Rex would never forget the look of sheer pride and joy that warmed his general's face in that quiet moment. It was the kind of joy that was contagious and Rex felt his own lips stretch into a grin.

The kind of joy that made everything worth it.

"All that said," Anakin began, clearing his throat and rubbing his hands together to keep warm, "what's your favorite holodrama?"

Rex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Their shivering had subsided sometime during their talk, and he couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or not. Probably not.

But the cold wasn't so bad anymore—in fact, it was almost bearable. Yeah, that's definitely bad.

Help was on the way, though, and that thought put Rex at ease. Besides, if they were to succumb to the chilling effects of hypothermia, there was no one he'd rather die alongside than Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.

"I don't really watch holodramas, si—Anakin," he replied at last, purposely keeping his answer vague. "Never enough time."

And he wasn't sure he cared for the sly look on the general's face. "Oh really? Does the title Coruscant's Finest mean anything to you?"

A deep flush colored Rex's frozen cheeks. "How did you—?"

Anakin shrugged. "Ahsoka saw you watching it when she stopped by your quarters last time we were on leave."

Oh. Rex recalled that day. He remembered how she had asked if he'd turn it back on so they could watch together.

"I watch it whenever I can with Pa—Well, I watch it a lot. Though, it drives Obi-Wan insane."

Embarrassment forgotten, Rex smirked. "I take it he's not a fan of cooking shows?"

"Not a fan?" Anakin shook his head, a dry chuckle tearing at his frozen throat. "No, it drives him insane because he gets too into it. I think it's the combination of fictional drama and real-life recipes that draws him in, even though he can't cook to save his life. Don't tell him I told you that, though. It's one of the best kept secrets in the order—the holodrama, not the cooking."

"I never would've guessed…"

"Most people don't, but man, that show is addicting! Okay, favorite planet?"

Rex's smile widened as Anakin continued to come up with question after question, forcing Rex to reveal things about himself even he hadn't known.

Forcing Rex to realize how truly different and unique he was—how unique they all were.

When help finally came, Rex felt a slight feeling of loss. The camaraderie he'd shared with his general was unlike any he'd ever experienced before.

Because he knew his brothers understood what growing up on Kamino was like, he knew they understood the inherent value of sentient life where the Kaminoans did not.

But to have someone else, someone who wasn't a brother tell him that he was valuable, that his worth was priceless…

Well, Rex would certainly see himself differently every time he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror.

And he would never forget the words of his general.

Because no one could put a price on his head. No one could add up his worth and write it on a piece of flimsy or imput it on a datapad.

Because now he realized—now he truly understood—that "priceless" was a value too great to fathom.

And the word "priceless" found its definition in the names Rex, Fives, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, Cody, and countless others.

And no one could take this away from him.

No one.

Not ever.

Not unless he let them.

And Rex had decided he was done letting others steal away his value.