Promised On Stars

You promised.

Rex heard her voice sometimes, through the sounds, through the noise, through the dark. It always came when he was thinking, thinking dangerous thoughts that could cause a lot of damage. Her voice would come, her words, the soft whisper of reminder, and he would clench his hands into fists because he had promised, and she had reminded.

The new Five-Oh-First stood tall and proud. Vader's Fist, they were. Oh, and what a terrible fist, smashing and breaking and burning, and Rex saw, he stood and watched as that fist destroyed his men, one-by-one, and the pieces of his shattered heart scattered further from each other with each one of his men that was taken from him.

They lived, they all lived, but not really. They weren't men, and they weren't his men. His men, the one's he had promised, promised before he ever met that bright-eyed Padawan, promised before he'd ever known the possibility of love and the power of smiles. Promised before he'd known just how dangerous the stars were.

"Commander."

He'd gone up in rank. He'd been a good soldier, a good part of the Fist, and he'd gone up in rank. He was commander, Commander Rex, because he wasn't able to keep his promise, because he stood by and watched as his men were destroyed.

Rex looked up into the eyes of an old friend. Kix, ever faithful, ever loyal, stood in the doorway. Kix wasn't destroyed, maybe the only one who wasn't, and Rex wondered how long that would last.

"Medic."

The name, Kix's name, it was on his tongue, burned the tip of it, but names weren't allowed. Names and men, they were destroyed. Names and men and promises. The stars didn't burn nearly as bright as they used to.

"There's an issue near the cells, sir."

Rex stood. An issue near the cells; there was always an issue near the cells, or in the cells. The Stormtroopers weren't his men, didn't behave like his men, didn't think like his men, didn't agree with his men, so there was always an issue. An issue of man versus fist, and every time, the stars got a bit dimmer.

With a tired sigh, because he was so, so tired, started towards the cells. An issue. He could deal with an issue, at the same time he couldn't, and after it was taken care of maybe he'd find that old bottle of liquor hidden under his desk and count how many swigs it took until the stars went out completely.

Kix led the way, moving quickly, hurriedly, with purpose, and Rex moved with him, because stopping an issue was much more appealing than being a fist. Because he had promised her he'd take care of the men, and maybe he couldn't stop them from being destroyed, but he could stop them from destroying themselves.

Except.

Except when they got near the cells, there wasn't an issue, and when they got to the cells, there wasn't an issue, and Rex turned to Kix, and Kix turned to Rex, and suddenly, for a moment, it wasn't Kix, but it was her.

And the stars reappeared, bright and blinding and beautiful.

"I'm not sorry for what I'm about to do, sir."

Rex heard him, felt him, saw him, but he didn't fight him. Because Kix was Kix, and in that moment Kix was her, and if the stars were there then maybe things would be not so bad. He could feel it, when he started losing consciousness, when Kix threw him over one shoulder and started moving.

He woke up in a strange place, with strange walls and strange lights. But the sound, the movement, it was familiar. The familiarity of a ship, a ship moving, moving through hyperspace, through the stars.

Soft fingers brushed his forehead. Soft and gentle, the touch of a brother, the touch of Kix. "Are you okay, commander?"

Rex blinked blurrily up at the medic, his old friend. "What happened?" And the name burned the tip of his tongue, almost slipped out, but he didn't let it, because maybe he had it wrong, and maybe they weren't as safe as he was thinking.

"I drugged you."

And Rex had to smile, because Kix was Kix, and Kix was blunt and to the point at the same time he was gentle. "Yes, I know. Why?"

Kix shrugged a shoulder, and gave Rex a considering look, one that reminded him of her, and stars, familiar stars, sparked in the medic's weary eyes. "I didn't think you'd come quietly otherwise, sir."

Come where, he almost asked, but he didn't. He sat up instead, and looked around. Cots were laid out on either side of them, the cots used in the prisons, and on each one lay a brother, one of his men, the men of the Five-Oh-First, the men the Fist had destroyed, and Rex looked back at Kix.

"Are we under arrest?"

And for the first time in a long time, Rex heard the laughter of one of his men, honest laughter, good laughter, and stars in Kix's eyes flared with the laughter, driving away some of the darkness. "Look again, commander."

Rex did. He looked, really looked, looked long and hard, because it was prison cots, but it wasn't a prison ship. They were brothers, brothers who had dangerous thoughts like he did, but they weren't traitors. And suddenly it made sense, and Rex looked at Kix and knew why he hadn't been destroyed.

"How'd you manage it?"

Kix shrugged a shoulder, a modest shrug with a modest smile, but the stars, oh they sparkled in his amber eyes, and Rex saw an echo of what she had left behind as an imprint on his men. "No one pays attention to the medics, sir. We're just there to slap on bacta patches."

An answer that wasn't an answer, and Rex was okay with that. Words that weren't spoken couldn't condemn men who weren't there.

He lay back down, thinking, remembering, allowing those dangerous thoughts to finally move from the shadows of his mind, to come out of hiding, and he felt better than he had in a long, long while.

"Why, Kix?"

The name, it slipped out this time, but that was okay. They were safe, and Kix smiled a full smile to go with his stars.

"You promised her, commander. I did, too."

Yah? Nah? Should I keep going? Should I do a part four?

Idk, man. This was originally meant to be a one-shot. And now it's gotten to this.

Maybe I'll do a part four, just to even it out. Who know? I certainly don't.

Read, review.

Kisses!