Warning: it's a long one...

Chapter Sixteen: Turn Into You

1085 days ABG

Had he not been so terrified of what he would see in his dreams, Stonewall would have preferred sleep to wakefulness. So the night after Kali and the others left, the captain decided to try and meditate, as much to clear his brain and keep his calm as to not sleep, and therefore allow the horrific visions to encroach. Simple things like standing and walking were still not as easy as he would have liked, but he was able to make his way into an adjacent room in the infirmary in order to get some quiet, as Crest and the others had taken to teaching the cadets – the boys, I suppose, as it doesn't seem like they're going to be cadets any longer – how to play sabacc.

His body was in that transient stage of healing, past the point where bacta had done all it was going to do, but too soon to be considered up to par. As much as he despised the crutches, it was wiser to use them for now than risk injuring himself further, and a part of him was loathe to admit that he really wasn't fit for duty at the moment. Upala had said that he should rest, her lilting accent reminding him of one of the happier times of his life, and rather than refuse her outright he had nodded – anything to get her to leave him alone – as he was not about to sleep. For a while, anyway.

So he meditated.

It was easier than he'd expected, given his mental state, but he chalked it up to the fact that he was growing more and more used to the practice. He sat on a padded chair in a small room of the infirmary, lights dimmed around him, feet flat on the floor, counting to ten both on the inhale and his exhale. Inhale, exhale. Again and again and again.

Slowly, he felt calm settling over the parts of his mind that were still cracked with loss and regret. But doubt still seeped in. Should I have protested less, or more? Did I only make things harder for her, or should I have done more to prevent her from leaving? Am I right or just completely crazy? Through it all the dream continued to haunt him. Part of him knew that he was in the vicinity of a Jedi Master who could perhaps shed some light on the disturbing vision, but Stonewall was unwilling to go that route quite yet.

But her words about perspective and experience rang in his ears. I never thought she would say such a thing to me. She didn't sound like Kali...she sounded like someone else. He recalled the set of her shoulders when she talked about her responsibility to the others. She's carrying them all, or trying to. I shouldn't be upset with her for saying those things, especially considering all that's happened.

But it still stung. We've never disagreed like that before.

Gradually, he turned his attention away from his mental state and towards his physical well-being, paying particular attention to the areas of his body that had been the most afflicted by injury; his focus sharpened as he sank into a healing trance. At one point, however, he became aware of a gentle rapping on the door, followed by the chime. Rather than respond, he reached out through the Force and laid his awareness against the maker of the noise.

It's one of the lads. The command-cadet. His eyes opened and he lifted his hand, sweeping the door open with an easy motion of his fingers and not even bothering to marvel at how commonplace such things had become. The boy – No-Name – stood over the threshold and looked at him with wide eyes, radiating awe and curiosity, and Stonewall realized that this was the first opportunity he'd had to speak to the younger clone, just the two of them.

"What's up, lad?" Even as Stonewall said the words, he knew that No-Name would not voice his true question, the one that the clone captain could almost see written in the air before his young brother: You and the Jedi...are you in love? How is such a thing possible? He decided to go ahead and answer, anyway. "I think I can guess."

"Sir?" The younger clone's voice was tentative, but hopeful.

Stonewall leaned forward, carefully, and held the boy's gaze. "You're curious about my relationship with Kalinda, aren't you?"

Again, the younger clone's expression wavered between conflicting emotions, though he only nodded. Stonewall took a deep breath. "I'll make it simple for you, No-Name: we love one another." The boy's mouth opened and closed; his brows knitted and he was the picture of confusion. Keeping his expression patient, Stonewall wondered if it would ever not shock anyone that a Jedi had managed to fall in love with a clone. I know I shouldn't take it personally, but still...He continued. "Yes, it's real. No, I don't entirely understand it; as a matter-of-fact, it's very often frightening and confusing, for the both of us. But it's there, nonetheless."

"So...what are you doing in here, sir?"

"Meditating." He lifted his brow. "I can use the Force, too. Comes with the territory, from what I can tell." To hell with keeping back information. I don't want to hold anything back, any more. His younger brother nodded as if this made perfect sense, and Stone found himself smiling at the lad. Absorbed the new information, accepted it, and moved on; I think he's the first person who's done so. I like this kid. "Did you have another question?"

No-Name blinked once, then straightened his spine as he replied. "Sir. We were going to get some food from the cafeteria, and the others thought you might be hungry."

Stonewall considered this. He had not eaten since the previous day and while he didn't feel hungry, he knew that the best way to keep up his strength and help his body heal itself included proper meals. At the very least, with Honi gone I can have some nerf-steak. So he nodded to No-Name and made to stand up to rejoin the others; the movement made pain clutch at his legs, and he could not help the hiss of breath that leaped from his throat at the sensation.

The sudden presence of someone smaller beside him was unexpected but not – he realized – unwelcome, and he had to smile to himself as the boy helped him to his feet without a word. "Thanks, lad."

"No problem, sir."

The clone captain sighed as they began to limp to the next room. "Just call me Stonewall, or Stone." I may not be a captain much longer, anyway, if I follow Kali's path. It was not entirely a pleasant thought, as he found that he didn't care for not knowing the future; however, the notion of spending the rest of his days at the dark-haired woman's side was enough to make his heart a little lighter even as his body weighed so heavily on him right now.

No-Name helped him to the next room, and Stone found that he was pretty hungry, after all.

From her place at the helm, Kalinda frowned at the stars while they receded around the Wayfarer before glancing at Milo again. "Are you certain?"

"Triple-checked it. The Chancellor's been returned safe and sound – by none other than Generals Kenobi and Skywalker – and Count Dooku has been confirmed dead." Milo watched the stream of intel from the GAR intel bank on the screen before his eyes as he faced the console. Way to go, Kenobi. He'd never had the opportunity to work with Skywalker, but by all accounts the younger man was the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. Maybe I'll be reassigned to the 501st , he thought with a grin. I guess anything's possible.

But the Jedi beside him didn't seem pleased, though he supposed that could have had nothing to do with the information and more to do with her and the captain's parting words. However, after a moment she took a breath and smiled at him. "Then perhaps the war is really on its way to ending."

Behind them, General Tallis was listening intently; she had risen from her place at the common-area table where she and the Commander were seated to stand between Kalinda and Milo. "What about General Grievous?"

Milo shook his head. "Escaped."

The red-haired Jedi frowned and glanced at Kalinda. "It won't end until he's dead; I've heard it said countless times. I suppose they'll send a team after him." She gave the other Jedi a knowing look. "Obi-Wan and Anakin, I imagine."

"Very likely. Unless Mace and Yoda want to take a crack at him. Though I hope they send more than just two Jedi...you'd think they'd want to send more Jedi than Grievous has arm-wielding lightsabers." She grimaced and Milo recalled hearing of multiple Jedi deaths at the hands of the infamous cyborg.

Not to mention the countless brothers he's cut down. I hope they send a legion of Jedi after the chakaar. He sighed and idly drummed his helmet while it rested in his lap, which caused Kalinda to glance at him.

"We left our instruments back at the Chu'unthor. I was going to have a few last sessions with you...I'm sorry, Mi." She truly sounded regretful, and he wondered how many other Jedi – or anyone, really – would concern themselves with such a thing when it came to a clone.

I don't think I'll get as lucky with another CO as I was with her. He shook his head. "It's okay. I reckon I won't have much time for the tablas anyway...besides, they're yours, Kalinda. I was just using them for a while."

General Tallis was listening to the exchange with interest and Milo noted that her Padawan had come forward as well. "Why did you did teach them how to play music?"

Kalinda looked thoughtful even as a smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. "It was a way to pass the time, Honi. You know, not everyone is as...talented as you in that area."

"Talented." The other woman rolled her eyes even as her Padawan giggled. "What's so funny, my very young apprentice?"

The Nautolan girl bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know, Master."

"Oh, I do," Kalinda said with a grin. "You're terrible, Honi. Possibly the worst musician I've ever met. Aside from being completely tone-deaf, you have no rhythm whatsoever." She lifted her brow at Milo, who couldn't hide his smile as he slid his eyes to the red-haired woman, who was flushing a rather alluring shade of pink even as she scowled.

However, she managed to recover her composure and raise her chin. "Some things are more important than music, Kalinda."

The dark-haired woman laughed. "Of course, Honi. But not many."

The evening of the first day of their journey, Kali had a longing to contact Obi-Wan. It was a sudden, sharp desire whose origin she couldn't place; however, the nature of hyperspace travel made using the long-range comm system on the modest ship impossible, so she decided to try the next best thing. "Honi, would you mind taking the helm for a little while? I'm going to meditate."

She rose from her seat and watched her former Padawan slide in her place, giving her a sideways glance that was pointed. I shouldn't be surprised; after all, to some Jedi, 'meditate' is usually code for a number of other things entirely. "Keep an eye on her, Milo." She chuckled to herself at Honi's look of indignation, though she noticed that Milo flushed and was certain to look everywhere except at the Jedi beside him.

I suppose Stonewall and I haven't exactly been the best influence in that department, she thought as she nodded to Zara and made her way to the crew cabins. But it's not wrong for the guys to think they could find love. They're not bound by any edicts of non-attachment like the Jedi – not that I've followed them, either – but it's entirely possible that each of them could meet someone and start a relationship. For as much time as they have, which isn't much, I suppose. It was a bitter thought that she had not yet been able to come to terms with, so she set it aside for the time being.

The room that she and Stone had shared was as she remembered and for a moment she was overcome with a desire to be beside him once more, and regret at how they had parted and at the things that she'd said. Gradually she was able to overcome the feelings as she shucked her boots and sat in the center of their bed, folding her legs beneath her.

After several minutes of quiet breathing she found that her mind was relaxed enough to attempt to reach her friend through the Force. It was difficult, but in the end she was able to touch his familiar presence. Obi-Wan?

Kali? He sounded exhausted, but relieved to hear from her. How are you? I heard about the cadets...

She shook her head, unsure whether to laugh or cry at his words of concern in the aftermath of all he'd been through. They're fine, for the most part. It's a long story. How are you? I heard about the Chancellor's daring rescue.

Even through the Force, even over the light-years that separated them, she could sense his weariness, bone-deep and unshakable, along with his usual wry humor that overlapped everything else. Anakin was his usual magnificent self. I tagged along and somehow managed not to get killed. Another happy landing. There was a pause and she could feel his uncertainty. Finally he continued. I'm on my way to Utapau. Grievous.

You, Anakin and a legion of other Jedi, I hope?

No. Just me...well, me and an army.

Sensing that questioning him about the Jedi Council's decision at the moment would not be productive, Kali tried to quell her nervousness at his words as she replied. Well, please be careful and don't...take too long.

If he'd been sitting with her, she thought that her words might have been able to make him smile, if only for a moment. As it was, he only sounded more weary and worried than she'd heard him in a long time. I'll do my best. What are you up to? The remorseful tint to his thoughts hinted that he already knew, and she swallowed.

Honi, Zara and I are going back to the Core. I'm going to speak to the Council. She took a breath, trying to gather her courage. I know you have so much on your mind, but I wanted to – needed to – talk you...somehow.

She could picture his face lifting in a smile that would not reach his eyes. Kali. You are my dearest friend and I'm always happy to talk to you. That will never change. I only wish we could speak in person. There was a pause, a waver, and if they'd been speaking over a comm channel it would have been static. However, it smoothed out and he continued. I know you make no decision lightly, though I do wish...She could almost hear his sigh. Many things, I suppose. Can I see you, when I return? Where can I find you?

As she didn't really have an answer at the moment, she shook her head, even though he couldn't see. I'll find you, Ben.

I see. Then I suppose that will have to suffice. Take care, Kali, and stay safe. There was only warmth in his tone, and her eyes grew hot with a sorrow that she couldn't place a name to. His next words were edged with hope, love, and – she thought – a trace of fear. May the Force be with you, Kalinda.

You too, Obi-Wan. And then the connection was gone; not severed, but rather tied off, to be unraveled and re-strung between them at a later point in time.

She sat in silence for several minutes, allowing her mind to settle back within the confines of her body.

Finally she took a breath and rubbed her eyes, blinking a few times to bring herself out of the trance, back to her present reality. Looking around the small cabin, she felt a flood of memories overtake her, and she realized that she was exhausted, so she leaned back against the bed and pulled out her mother's journal, hoping to glean some kind of truth from the fragile pages.

And all at once I was filled with an energy that was foreign but also familiar. For the duration, there was no pain at all, such that I may have been a 'normal' person, and I felt like I could do anything. And then I realized beyond a shadow of doubt what must be done, what I must do. After everything that had passed, it was the easiest decision of my life.

But it was useless to try and focus her attention elsewhere; thoughts of Obi-Wan coalesced into memories of Stonewall and for a moment she was overwhelmed with longing and remorse. However, after a bit she was able to relax and let the feelings pass through her so that her body and mind could rest. After a few minutes more, she was able to sleep.

After Kalinda retired to the back, there was silence in the body of the Wayfarer and Milo found himself at a complete loss for words. Had he been with his brothers or the dark-haired Jedi it wouldn't have been so awkward, as they were just as comfortable sitting in companionable silence as they were with idle chatter, but with Honi – General Tallis, he chided himself – it was different. He was aware of her in a way that went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before; her every movement seemed to be designed to both attract and confuse him.

He'd considered putting his helmet back on, if only to make things easier for himself, but decided against it in the end. Sometimes I feel like it's too easy to hide behind the bucket; I guess it's kind of...impersonal. Not that I'm much to look at. He sighed without really meaning to.

From her place at the helm, the red-haired Jedi glanced behind her. "Zara, you need to spend this down-time in meditation." The Nautolan girl, who'd been reading an old flimsi that she'd found, nodded and rose to her feet, slipping out of the room without a word.

Now they were truly alone.

Milo decided that this was one of the more intimidating moments of his short life. How did the captain manage it? I feel if I open my mouth, only gibberish will fall out. And in any case...nothing will come of it. She's not going to change her tune for me, and I'm going to ship off to who knows where. But even so...

He cast a surreptitious glance at her: the light from hyperspace cast her creamy skin in a luminous glow and she had not bothered to put her hair up, letting it fall in coppery waves down her shoulders. She's beautiful. I wonder if she has any idea. He tried to push the thoughts away, if only for the fact that she would most certainly pick up on them, but found that as he tried to stop, they only came at a faster pace: her pale-blue eyes that missed nothing, the tilting angle of her chin when she was annoyed, the gentle way she held her hands over his brothers when she put her healing skills to work...all of these things rushed through his brain no matter how much he tried to stem the tide.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, she glanced at him. "How long have Kalinda and your captain been sleeping together?" Her voice was perfectly natural, as if she'd just asked him about the condition of the sublight engines.

He was so startled at her candor that he replied without a moment's hesitation. "I'm not sure exactly. Well over a year, I know." His face felt hot and he wanted to know why she'd asked, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to voice the question.

But she seemed aware of none of his internal debate as she nodded. "She says that she loves him. Do you think that he loves her?"

She sounds...unsure. Almost. Milo shook his head and watched as her eyes narrowed. "I know beyond a doubt that he loves her more than anything. It's plain to see," he explained to her look of disbelief. "I can see it on his face, hear it whenever he speaks to her – or about her – it's like nothing I've ever seen. Stonewall's really lucky, but Kalinda is, too." He smiled to himself and tried to keep the wistfulness from his words.

"Kalinda has always had love in some form or another," the Jedi replied in a quiet voice. "First with her father, then Obi-Wan...now with this clone. Stonewall," she added, glancing at him.

"Her father?"

General Tallis frowned. "Her first master – Jonas – was also her father. I probably shouldn't have said anything." She looked at him, her gaze was earnest. "Don't tell her I told you. Please."

The thought occurred to him that she could have asked him to shoot his own foot and he probably would have obliged. "Won't breathe a word."

"Good." The general paused and frowned, forming the next words with deliberation. "Thank you." He chuckled and she gave him a sideways glance. "What?"

Does it matter anymore? I'll likely never see her again once we reach the Core. "Nothing, General. I just get the sense that you don't say 'thank you' too often." Any other person, Milo was sure, would have been affronted, but she merely looked thoughtful when he smiled at her. And then the most amazing thing happened:

She smiled back.

"Are they really hungry again?" Crest sounded bemused as he watched the boys file out of the room to make their way for the cafeteria.

Traxis shook his head. "Don't you remember being that age? It was only about five or six years ago, at this point." He gathered the remains of their sabacc game and began to slip the cards back in their case. After a moment he glanced at Weave, who had taken to tinkering with the captain's and Crest's armor. Though they had an assortment of spare 'parts' that had been transferred from the Wayfarer, every trooper preferred his usual kit, and they all knew that they couldn't wear only their fatigues forever. The scarred clone nodded to the door. "Levy seems like he's doing better. Being with the others is good for him."

At this, Weave looked up, a faint smile on his face. "I know...I'm glad they didn't treat him badly."

"They're his brothers," Trax replied with a frown. "Why would they?"

"We still like you even after..." Crest made a vague gesture to his own left eye that was supposed to indicate Weave's implant, though the medic shook his head.

"Well, that doesn't mean they would. They're just kids, after all."

A soft noise of footfalls beyond the room made them pause and look up; moments later the door opened and Stonewall – assisted by No-Name – stepped inside. The boy helped him to his sleep-couch and watched as the captain sank down with a grimace. "Thank you, lad."

No-Name nodded, his expression solemn, though he said nothing. Traxis cleared his throat. "Your brothers should be in the cafeteria."

"I know," the boy replied, glancing at Stonewall, who regarded him. "It's okay if I stay here, though, right?"

"Sure, kid," Crest said. "The more the merrier. Besides, you haven't heard all of my jokes, yet." He shot Traxis a look. "Maybe someone will appreciate that one about the Wookiee, the Bothan, and the Duros who all walk into a cantina..."

"That's not really appropriate for young ears, Crest," Weave said in Mando'a. Indeed, No-Name's interest was written across his face, for all that he was silent.

We're going to have to teach them Mando'a soon enough, Traxis thought, setting the cards to the side. There's a lot they should learn, actually. A whole lot...He tried not to frown. It would be a massive undertaking, and he realized that he hadn't really thought about the repercussions of the squad's decision to take over the care of the boys.

But what choice did we have? Send them back to the long-necks to be terminated? He was certain that's what would happen to them; his brother Weave's own experience on Kamino was proof enough of that fact. They were ready to 'recondition' him for being too curious, and though she never said as much, I'm pretty sure that it was only Kalinda's involvement that kept Weave from being shipped back to Kamino when we got out of Perdax. What will they do with a group of boys who've dealt with things that hardened soldiers haven't come across? And Levy...he'd be sentenced to death before they'd bother to figure out what Creon did to him.

What are a few young clones when you have thousands more to replace them?

Despite these thoughts, it was an overwhelming task that he and his brothers were facing, what essentially amounted to a massive question-mark. What will happen to us? Never thought I'd consider myself a defector, but that's what it boils down to, I guess. He glanced at No-Name, who had taken a seat besides Stonewall and was speaking to the captain in low tones; already the boy looked like a regular child. Not that I've seen too many of those, but he seems...happy. I don't think I ever felt like that at his age. Or any time, for that matter...before recently.

"Cred for your thoughts?" Crest's voice was relatively quiet; seated as he was, Traxis was close to the bald clone, out of earshot of the captain and No-Name – who were engrossed in their own conversation anyway – and Weave, who only had eyes for the armor in his hands, though he kept flicking his gaze to the door.

Traxis tilted his head towards No-Name. "The usual."

"Ah. Well, I reckon those thoughts are worth a pretty ingot."

"I don't like not knowing." Traxis looked at the small, cloth bag that contained his sabacc cards. "Because I don't know what's going to happen to them, or to us, for that matter." The bag felt heavier than it should have, and he wasn't sure he could form the word defection quite yet. Or traitor, though he imagined that would also apply.

But Crest only looked thoughtful. "Everything's changing, isn't it? I guess that's the way things go." He shrugged. "For what it's worth, I think that you and Weave have made the right choice. I wish Milo hadn't left, but I understand why he did."

That was unexpected and Traxis lifted his eyes to his brother, who wore an uncommonly serious expression. "And you? What are you going to do?"

The bald clone gave a long exhale and it was several moments before he replied. "Oh, I'll stick around with the rest of you for a while. No one else will really put up with me, I think." The two men shared a grin before glancing back at Stonewall. "I know what he's going to do," Crest added in a low voice. "So it looks like we'll have each other, at least. Give or take a few new faces. Well, new as in..."

Traxis sighed. "I know what you meant." He glanced at the cards again and felt a sudden urge to be on his feet, so he looked up at Weave. "I'm going to set these away with the other stuff we unpacked from the ship...need me to grab anything for you while I'm at it?"

His brother studied him, giving the impression that he understood the scarred clone's apprehension, and nodded. "I could use another right rerebrace, if you can find one. Crest, yours is shot." He lifted the plastoid and they could all see where it had nearly melted from the heat of the fire.

"Ouch, yeah. I think I remember that," Crest replied with a wince as he rubbed at his arm.

"Right. Well, I'll be back in a sec." Traxis got to his feet and slipped out of the room into the body of the praxeum ship. Feels better already. It was easier away from the others and the infirmary. Not that I don't want to be with them, but I just needed a break from all the...anxiety. The squad had been given use of a small storage compartment for their belongings at the edge of the hangar, so that was where he made his way.

It was quiet in the massive room, the only sounds were his footfalls against the duracrete floor and the soft hum of the energy field that kept out the chill of open space, but even so it was considerably cooler than the rest of the Chu'unthor. There were few ships in the hangar at this time, but one in particular caught his eye: an oblong-shaped transport situated in the far corner of the room, being tended to by a familiar figure.

Immediately, Traxis wished he had stayed in the infirmary, with the kind of questions that he could handle because they were mostly centered on things larger than his own personal desires. But his legs kept on their path, which would take him right beside the coral-skinned Twi'lek who even now was glancing up at the sound of approaching steps, his eyes falling on Traxis in the next moment. Ares smiled at him and lifted his hand in greeting.

Kriffing hell. What am I supposed to say? Should I say anything at all? He'd never been proficient with small-talk and he doubted that Ares wanted to hear about his wide array of weapons or how to manually take down a SBD in under thirty seconds. Trax managed a stiff nod.

Thankfully – or not, as he wasn't sure about much in his life at the moment – he was spared from the decision as Ares approached him. They met just beyond the ship, and Traxis noted that the Twi'lek was wiping grease off of his hands with a rag. "Need to find something? This place can be a maze."

The accent always catches me off guard. Traxis shook his head and indicated his destination. "I'm just getting some spare armor." Ares nodded. But Traxis' feet remained in place, as if deliberately trying to make him feel even more awkward. Finally he looked at the ship. "Nice. Yours?"

"She is," Ares replied, his grin wide. "The Stark Raven. She's my pride and joy."

Traxis couldn't prevent the next words from leaving his mouth, though in retrospect he thought they sounded rude. "Why do you need a ship like this if you're a medical assistant?"

However, rather than take offense, the Twi'lek seemed to consider the clone's words. Finally he gave a crooked grin. "I've had several...careers. Some of them required the use of personal transportation." At Trax's look of confusion he elaborated. "I spent some time as a bounty hunter, but it wasn't really my line of work."

"What do you mean?" Bounty hunters were kind of a sore point with most clones, as they tended to operate outside of the Republic law that the troopers were taught to uphold. But Jango was one of them. Perhaps they're not all bad. He studied Ares as the Twi'lek replied.

"Oh, I could do the job well enough." There was a moment where his face clouded over; when it passed, he exhaled and shrugged again even as he ran his eyes over the hull of the transport. "But it was selfish work, in the end. Not for me, I realized. Anyway, I find I'm happier now, though the Raven and I don't get to fly quite as much." He gave the clone that odd, crooked grin again.

Having no immediate reply to the other man's words, Traxis studied the Raven a bit more. He knew next to nothing about ships, and after a moment he said as much. In response, Ares gave an easy chuckle. It was a pleasant sound. Different, but pleasant. A tiny smile tugged at Traxis' mouth as the Twi'lek began to lead him around the ship, pointing out various features and modifications that he'd made. After several minutes, when they were standing in the interior of the vessel, Ares looked at him. "One day, I can show you how to fly her. If you like, that is."

Traxis turned and examined the helm, if for no other reason than to hide the heat that had crept to his face. How many things can I have on my plate before I drop it and everything shatters? And I'm probably only kidding myself, anyway. But instead of all this, he only said, "Maybe."

"Why don't you have a name?"

The boy looked at Stonewall, his brows knitted. "Dunno, sir. Never really picked one up." He glanced at the door, in the direction his brothers had gone and shrugged. "Some of the others tried to give me one, but it never felt...right."

That sounds familiar. I wonder if it's commonplace among command-units. Stonewall tried to remember if he'd ever heard other officers making the same observation, but couldn't at the moment, so he only nodded. "I understand. It's not something to take lightly, but it's important." He paused, then shifted in the cushions, trying not to wince at the shooting pain in his limbs. "I remember trying to think of one, back when I was a little older than you...I didn't get mine until my first battle."

"Where was that?" No-Name had folded his legs beneath him and was seated on the other end of the sleep-couch, listening to every word.

Stonewall took a breath. It was not one of his happier memories, but it seemed so long ago at this point that it may as well have happened to a different person. "Geonosis, as the war began."

No-Name sat up. "The first battle? You were at the first battle of Geonosis?" His voice was awestruck and Stonewall tried not to smile.

"It wasn't as much fun as you might have heard," he replied in a dry voice.

"How did you get it?"

Stonewall paused again, casting his mind back to the day. When he looked back at No-Name, his voice was quiet. "One of my brothers gave it to me just before he died."

"Oh." The boy was silent for a moment, absorbing his words. Finally he looked back up at the captain, his expression earnest. "I don't want it to happen that way."

He didn't have a response for that, so Stonewall merely nodded again. Beyond them, Weave was working over their armor – attempting to repair the damage it had sustained on Sethos – while Crest and Traxis were speaking in low tones. Save for Kali's gentle strumming of her dulcimer and Milo's tablas, it could have been just like any other time. Whatever else happens, it feels like we'll remain together, for the most part. A thought occurred to him and he looked back at No-Name, who seemed nervous, though the feeling was distant. "His name was Drake," he said, causing the boy to look back at him.

"Sir...I mean, Stonewall?"

Stone gave the lad a smile. "My brother-by-choice, the one who gave me my name; his name was Drake."

No-Name grew thoughtful as he said the word like he was tasting a new food. "Drake. That's a good name." His gaze on Stonewall was a little uncertain and a little hopeful.

"It is." Stonewall took a breath. "I don't want it to happen that way for you, either."

"Would he mind?" The younger clone's voice was hesitant. It was a big step, after all.

Ignoring the pain, Stonewall reached forward to ruffle what hair there was. "He'd be honored, Drake."

Heaps of gratitude to my readers and reviewers! You are all awesome! :D

On that note, get ready for Wednesday.