Some say the first thing we forget about people when we're away from them is their voice. You could have the most vivid image in your mind, or their perfume etched into memory. But their voice eventually fades, no matter how sonorous. I couldn't forget hers even if I tried. Her laugh. Her soft voice. How she smiled with her whole body. Eyes that held storms. I could never forget her.

~:~

"Here," the young waitress said, placing a steaming hot cup of caf on the counter in front of him. When their eyes met, she shot him a warm smile. "This one's on me. Anything for our brave men in white."

The gesture was unexpected. He has seen her many times, but this is the first time they've interacted directly. Curly dark hair, a small round nose, with full lips. This woman was radiant.

Usually no one gave his type a second look or gave them a moment of their time. Considering there are batches of triplets and quintuplets with the same face, he's definitely nothing special to look at. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all.

"Err…" He fumbled to find the words with his deep and accented basic. "Thank you, ma'am."

The young woman behind the counter chuckled as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "It's Quinn. My name."

Her laugh was warm and soft. It illuminated the empty café.

"What's your name?" She asked curiously.

His eyebrows furrowed and his gaze fell to his cup sitting between his hands. This was an unexpected question. Mainly because this soldier didn't have a name. He wasn't born with one. All clones from the Republic are given a number. Although many eventually give themselves a new name, this soldier has yet to choose one for himself.

The question bounced around in his mind for a moment before he straightened his back and neck at attention. "I am ARC Trooper, CT-1435." His reply was confident and full of pride.

Being an ARC Trooper was indeed something to be proud of. It meant he was above average in combat, smarter and had more experience than a run of the mill clone trooper. It meant responsibility and trust from the men that depend on him and above all, recognition from the Republic for which he defends.

Quinn leaned forward resting her forearms on the counter. Their faces are only inches apart from each other. That position compelled him to look straight into her eyes. They were round and an intense and fierce shade of brown in a swirl of gold that somehow, despite the intensity of the colour, appeared calm and tame. They were the most curious yet entrancing eyes he's ever seen. Not to say that he always has the time to stare into someone's eyes...

"Oh, an ARC Trooper." She whistled. "That's impressive, but that's not much of a name. Surely you must have a name."

He realized he was starring a little longer than he should and willed his body to focus on anything else but her. Once again his eyes fell back to his drink. "All clones are given a number for a name."

"You may be a clone but you're still flesh and blood aren't you? Just like me you can bleed and you all think for yourselves and make your own decisions."

"I suppose so. But I'm still considered property of the Republic."

"Is that what you believe?" Her tone turned serious.

"It's not about what I believe." the soldier paused to take a sip of his beverage. "I was created for a purpose."

Quinn made a curious face. "hmm… is that so?" The waitress reached from under the bar and pulled out a rag and moved down the counter wiping away the small spills and crumbs.

It's grown quiet in the small café. It's awkward and they're both painfully aware of the silence. The only other sound came from the city. Mild hums of speeders and usual sounds of foot traffic. It was deafening.

The trooper is bouncing his leg impatiently under the table. He knows there's something she wants to say. What's wrong with her?

"Out with it." he spat.

She pauses her cleaning momentarily to face him. "You're content with having a leash around your neck."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you don't know anything about what I do."

"No, you're right." she acknowledged. "I was just under the impression that you made your own decisions."

"I do."

"Do you?"

"Yes," he emphasized.

"You may be a high ranking officer, sir , but that just means you've got a longer leash."

"I doubt that."

He wasn't going to back down. She was a civilian living a civilian life who's oblivious to what it's like on the front lines. What does she know about fighting for peace?

"We're all slaves to one thing or another. Be it work or the Grand Army of the Republic. Some are unfortunate enough to actually be enslaved in the literal sense."

What a strange woman. He didn't know where she was going with all that. But he let her talk anyway because he was growing curious.

She walked back across from him. "My point is, eventually the war will come to an end. What will you do afterwards to fill your days, if all you know is taking commands?"

The trooper paused for a beat. "I guess I haven't thought that far ahead."

"You don't say?" Her tone was sarcastic yet playful. "Maybe it's time that you do."

It was quiet for a few minutes and since then, he had taken a few more sips of the warm beverage, savouring the richness and deep flavour as it warmed his core. Every few minutes his com device on his wrist would chirp and he would step outside to take the calls. Oftentimes his fingers would dance across the wrist guard. Quinn felt the high pitch beeps deep into her ear canal. She felt herself growing irritable.

Finally, she reached across the bar to lay a hand on top of the soldier's nimble hands, stopping him from completing his task. "If you make your own decisions, how about you ignore the calls for a moment and relax."

She gently let go of his wrist and continued. "Why don't you just, you know, hang out?"

He looked up, puzzled by her meaning. "You mean here?"

"Or anywhere. The objective is to do what you want for a change and stop being controlled by that. " Quinn pointed to the soldier's wrist.

Coruscant isn't necessarily a planet worth exploring. There are shops and restaurants, but it all seems pointless when considering a soldier's salary. Despite the diversity of its citizens, Coruscant isn't too keen on clones. There's 79's, of course. But that isn't really his scene.

"But if you choose to stay here, I'd appreciate the good company."

"Oh. I don't know…" he said, awkwardly.

"How about this," she reached into the desert window to retrieve a delicious treat and placed a dense pastry across from him. "On the house."

The desert was misleadingly delicate and flaky, despite it's chewy and dense looking texture. The soldier has previously enjoyed this confection on numerous occasions. It's the house's signature dish.

I suppose I could stay.

He couldn't help his lips pulling into a smile. "It would be rude to say no to moon cake and a good conversation."

The waitress laughed. "Wow, he's polite, too!"

ARC Trooper CT-1435 has since frequented this café several times in the next few cycles. Along with all the other times his legion was on leave on Coruscant. He always managed to slip away from the boys. Whenever he'd visit the café, he'd hope she was working.

A pastry and a good conversation.

Slowly, his feelings for Quinn began to transform. When he'd share a little piece of what his life was like in the Republic's pursuit of peace against the Separatists, she'd share something meaningful about her life. How she was an orphan who was sold to an especially cruel mining colony for several years until she had escaped and taken in by kind farmers.

She went from a random waitress with a pretty face to a strong and admirable woman. He never gets the opportunity to talk to people in such an in-depth way. They would talk until CT-1435 had to return to his battalion's barracks, but he always came back. And when he did, on the counter would be a warm cup of caf waiting for him.

It didn't matter what they talked about. Whether it was related to his work or simply about her day, they laughed and smiled together. The whole galaxy seemed to disappear whenever they met. Neither of them said it, but it became their favourite thing and she looked forward to whenever he'd be back to that little café of hers. Nothing else seemed to matter.

~:~

Even though most clone troopers chose to stay on base during leave, It wasn't unusual to venture out into the city. The ARC Trooper would spend so much time away from the base that his clone brothers began to take notice and wondered where he'd disappear off to.

"Say, where are you always off to, 35?" One clone asked, referring to the ARC Trooper's last two digits of his designation.

CT-1435 wasn't sure if he wanted to be entirely honest. Should he lie and keep this to himself? He knew what he was doing was against the rules as clones shouldn't have individual personal lives or unhealthy interests outside of their intended purpose. Yet he was bending all the rules.

The ARC Trooper picked up his helmet from his bunk and placed it over his head. "To get a cup of caf, of course." He replied and walked towards the door. After all, he wasn't lying.

"Must be one heck of a cup if you're always getting some."

His lips curled into a soft smile at the thought of who was waiting for him. The door hissed open. He spoke over his shoulder, "the very best." He stepped over the threshold, the door automatically closing behind him.

"So, mister ARC Trooper See-Tee-One-Four-Three-Five," Quinn teased, enunciating each character of his designation. She watched him smile into his cup before committing to a deep sip of the freshly brewed caf. Quinn leaned in closely from the other side of the counter. "I know I ask you every time, but have you thought of a name yet?"

~:~

Blaster beams whizzed through the clouds of smoke. Further away, the booms of explosions and blood curdling screams and clanking of metal. Trooper's heavy boots stamping as they push forward past enemy lines. Not everyone was so lucky. Some were picked off in the heat of the fray, their bodies littering the battlefield among the other rubble.

The brain fog only masked the full extent of the injuries. Fighting through consciousness was agony and the simple act of breathing was now a tasking one. Sprawled on the hard ground he was panting uncontrollably, desperately trying to fill his lungs.

The wounded soldier let out an excruciating groan.

Everything hurts.

With some strategic blinks, the ARC Trooper managed to access a personal holo message he'd previously saved. The image of a smiling curly-haired woman flickered as it materialized in front of his eyes on his HUD.

"Hey Hal, haven't seen you at the café in a while." The image was grainy and unstable. "Come by the store as soon as you get back on Coruscant. Be sure to keep your head down, soldier. There's a cup waiting for you when you get back. I miss you."

"Forgive me, Quinn. " ARC Trooper Hal, strained to breathe. "I might be a little late for that cup," His armour was pierced and pieces were blown off into warped shrapnel nearby. Facing the sky, he was desperately fighting to focus though the sting of tears forming in his eyes.

The sky. It's the same colour as her eyes.

A conversation replayed in his mind...

"You? Quinn scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "A farmer?"

"Is there something wrong with wanting to become a simple farmer?"

"None at all, I just didn't think it was possible for you to slow down even further. It was hard enough to get you to relax and enjoy lunch without answering a com."

"Yeah, well, you asked what I was going to fill my days with once the war was over… That's my answer."

"That's an interesting one, I'll give you that," she teased. " Are you sure you can handle all that work? Seeing as you're better-worn and all that."

He laughed. "I've seen a lot of battles and collected countless scars throughout the years. My body might be a little worse for wear, but I can handle honest farm work."

"Maybe I should come with you."

"Don't expect me to let you lounge around," he warned.

"Since when have you known me to be lazy?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not the one sitting on their backside enjoying a caf, soldier."

They shared a laugh. Hers was much louder, as it often was. Carefully, the soldier pushed the empty mug to the side then reached for her hand on the counter. His gloveless hand was softer than anticipated, she noticed. Along with how it easily dwarfed hers. They stared into each other's eyes and without uttering a single word, they knew. It was decided. Their future was decided.

Quinn felt a twinge in the chest. For once it wasn't uncomfortable. Rather it was a giddiness and thrill that comes with giving in to new possibilities that lie ahead.

"And so you've decided, finally." her voice echoed in his mind.

… Untether myself from the leash.

His vision began to blur as darkness clouded the peripherals. He willed his mind to focus on the familiar voice, following it as he drifted off in a field of white flash.

"Hey Hal, haven't seen you at the café in a while. Come by the store as soon as you get back on Coruscant. Be sure to keep your head down, soldier. There's a cup waiting for you when you get back. I miss you."

"Haven't seen… Cup waiting for… Get back… Miss you."

"… I miss you."

/ERROR