A/N: This will not be a happy fic. Star Wars doesn't strike me as a very happy universe.
Reviews are super appreciated!
Enjoy.
Impulse
My armor. You know. Self-protective camouflage. Everybody has an armor. Even you, I bet, even though I still haven't figured out what form yours takes.
Jennifer Sturman, And Then Everything Unraveled
The sound reverberates, a quick urgent staccato. The room is tinted an eerie blue from the glow of her lightsaber, the floor cold beneath her bare feet. Aayla can't remember standing. Some detached piece of her mind notes the familiar leaky threadbare tent she usually wakes to has been replaced by dark metal.
A ship? A compound?
Well at least she isn't wet with a rock digging into her spine. That's something.
"General Secura!" The muffled voice from the other side of the door makes her stomach clench sharply, a voice she knows far too well. "General Secura we have received a transmission!"
Honoghr. She is on Honoghr.
Relief slowly mixes with discomfort. She is safe. This is not the battlefield. She takes a deep breath and repeats her mantra. This is not the battlefield. She answers the door with her lightsaber in hand anyway. Normally Bly doesn't knock like the building is on fire.
Then again normal had made a dramatic exit four days earlier. She can picture it dancing out the barn door before spitefully blowing her a kiss and skipping off into the distance while she tries to yank the pants up from around her ankles to chase it.
Well. Awkward it is. Years of training keep the deep unhappiness off her face. A blue hand raises to return the salute automatically.
The helmeted figure in the door makes her chest ache. How many months had it taken to convince him saluting constantly was a waste of precious time? How many hours of gentle persuading had it cost to get him to stop wearing that elaborate painted bucket of a helmet every waking moment?
How had she fucked up this badly? The air knots in her throat and she swallows slowly.
By not using your head as usual Secura. That's how you fucked up. Not even her mind wants to give her quarter.
The clone is every inch the professional: cool, collected, and distant. Wrapped in impenetrable armor while watching the world through the guarded eyes of the helmet. The strangely intimate camaraderie gone.
Now she realizes just how important it had been, how much Bly's good opinion meant.
"Sir we have receive an urgent transmission from General En. The Separatists have a Scientific Instrument Package for 1138 toxin at a Rakata temple and he has supplied the coordinates and requested assistance. We should leave immediately." No inflection or hesitation colors Bly's deep voice. In that instant he could be any one of hundreds of clones she knows only as impersonal numbers and statistics.
Chillingly like a robot returned to factory settings, falling back on protocols. Aayla manages a dumbfounded nod. The clone salutes again before performing a stiff military turn, a strategic withdrawal from hostile forces.
You broke it Aayla, you must be the one to fix it. Master Quinlan Vos's favorite scold flashes across her mind, as dryly paternal as ever.
"Wait." The word slips out despite the sudden blankness of her mind, all the carefully rehearsed words and explanations gone. The clone freezes solid staring down the hallway, a carved rock of flesh.
What could she say? What possible explanation could she give? White teeth worry at her bottom blue lip as she mentally curses the complete inadequacy of clone upbringing and Jedi training.
"I don't..." Air rushes out her lungs in a frustrated sigh as she passes a hand across her face. "I'm doing this badly." A bitter smile twists her mouth as she says it. "I didn't...mean it to happen. But it did. The Twi'lek in me came out and...I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to you, but..."
The General squares her shoulders determinedly, the bitter smile never leaving her face. "We're fighting a war now, and there are lives at stake. The Republic needs us at our most focused, being distracted and confused will get men killed. For now...this...will have to wait. When its all over, I'll tell you anything you want to know."
It's a mistake. Almost as the words leave her mouth Aayla wants to call them back. None of it is a lie exactly, sure there's a war and yes, they need to be on top of their game...
Convenient little thing this war? Perfect thing to hide behind General. Not even her own mind will buy it. That's when you know you're bullshit's bad.
The apology he deserves is nowhere to be seen. Nor is the reassurance she meant to give.
Damnit.
"It means nothing." The helmet finally cocks in her direction, the voice staying a serene calm. "The men should be ready in an hour. Preparations need to be made. Am I dismissed General?"
Aayla has to force herself to breath. The words are hollow bits of bone.
"Yes, Commander. You are dismissed."
Got what you wanted right? Focus on the mission, the war...Her thoughts are a swirling, racing mass. But damn, why did it sting so much?
The hallway is empty as her lanky form leans against the wall, breathing in measured gasps. An eerie blue glow dances along the walls
Her lightsaber, Aayla realizes. Her lightsaber is still active, a glowing safety blanket of violence.
Who brings a drawn weapon to a tense parlay?
"Stupid. Stupid." The empty air doesn't provide an answer.
She slams the door and makes for her boots.
Somehow she has to fix this, she thinks grimly.
She has to.
A/N A bit AU. Hopefully not too much.