Smile

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.

"I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal."

-Mandalorian Memorial Service

Keeps.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was female, and CT-42-8942 looked up in surprise. There was only one female in the whole of the 501st that was out on the field, and it seemed that Commander Tano had decided to stop and pay him a visit. Had it been just about any other time, he would have flushed, stuttered, and beamed with pleasure – she would be the third female he'd been able to speak to since he left Kamino. There was one elderly refugee who called him 'sonny' and a loud mechanic at one of the outposts who gave him directions. A day ago, he'd have turned to Nib and Cred and shared a grin, and he'd have retold the story of how Commander Tano took it upon herself to talk to him, specifically.

But that was a day ago, and today, Nib and Cred were dead.

'42 cradled his blaster in an arm, and held its cleaning cloth in his left hand, fiddling with it. He kept his blaster clean since it meant his life. At least, that was what he'd always thought. As long as he had a blaster between himself and the enemy, he would be okay. But that wasn't how things went. Not in the real world. Not on a real battlefield. Not away from Kamino. Nib hadn't lasted ten minutes before he caught a stray shot; one moment, his squadmate of four years was standing beside him. The next, Nib was missing half his face and was falling to the ground with what was left of his helmet rolling aside.

That was the first time '42 threw up on the field.

'42 glanced up at Commander Tano and nodded once. He wasn't alright. He wasn't alright after Nib took a head shot, and he wasn't alright after Cred bled out on the field in the eleventh hour of the battle, a medic frantically trying to stem a bleeder in his thigh while '42 shot everything that wasn't in dirty white armor or carrying a lightsaber. He didn't remember it very well, in retrospect. Just a blur of shooting, screaming, and telling Cred he'd better not kriffing die too, though he did anyway.

He vaguely realized he was shaking, so he tightened his grip on his blaster. It wouldn't save him.

There was a smallish, orangey colored hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Hey," Commander Tano said, kindly but with a bit of sharpness to her voice, "what's your name?"

He didn't have one. '42 was still '42, just a number. He'd never picked a name, and none of the names Nib and Cred offered growing up ever fit right. '42 wasn't special. No special training like an ARC or a commander, no special training to be a tech or a pilot. He was just trained to shoot. Basic infantry. No outstanding characteristics, beyond that he was good at shooting things, but not quite good enough at shooting things to be recruited into a sniper corp.

"CT-42-8942, ma'am."

There was a bit of amusement to her tone when she clarified, "Not your designation. Your name."

'42 was too tired to flush with embarrassment. That wasn't a special consideration for him, either, asking his name – some of the veterans had already passed word on to the shinies that General Skywalker and Commander Tano preferred names to numbers. '42, Nib and Cred thought they were lucky when they got assigned the 501st. Great reputation, kind leaders, and they'd be together, to watch each other's backs, just like always. "I'm just '42, ma'am. Never got a real name."

The hand slipped off his shoulder, and the Commander sat down next to him. '42 gave her a slightly incredulous look. There had to be so many more important things for the Commander, a Jedi, to be doing, than talking to him while sitting in the dirt just on the fringe of base camp. A day ago, he'd have been more than surprised; he'd have been thrilled. Some part of his brain that wasn't completely numb recognized that Commander Tano was petite, and really not that much younger than him, physically speaking at least. If she wasn't the Commander, and he wasn't feeling so terrible, he'd have tried to be friendly, but right now, he mostly just wanted to sit by himself and try to stop thinking of Nib missing half his face and Cred screaming for Nib while he bled, because Nib always smiled, even when things were bad.

That was the most important time to smile, Nib would say, when things were bad.

'42 couldn't smile. There was nothing to smile about. He hugged his blaster closer. A day ago, he was excited about finally getting his armor dirty. He wouldn't really be a shiny anymore. Today he wished his armor was still as white as it was the day he got it on Kamino; if it wasn't dirty, it meant there was no battle, that Nib and Cred were still alive, and he had his brothers with him.

"What were their names?" Commander Tano asked, gently.

'42's shoulders came up around his ears, his legs drew in closer to him. Nib and Cred. Their names were Nib and Cred, and they'd been together for four years. Almost half their lives. He sucked in a long sniffle, then swore softly as he realized he was sitting next to the Commander of the 501st and crying like a three year old who just realized there was live fire flying overhead and it was scary.

Somewhere nearby, he could hear the sound of names. He didn't recognize them, but then, he'd only been in the 501st for a few days, and other than Nib and Cred and a few other rookies they met en route to their rendezvous with the rest of the legion, he didn't know much of anyone. '42 lifted his head. Just beyond the curve of a tent, near to a cluster of scarlet-leafed deciduous trees, were three other clones, their armor heavily scarred, their helmets off, and their heads bent. The names were little more than a murmur, one man speaking, then trailing off, only for the next in the small circle to pick up the recitation, before it was passed on to the next man.

"It's originally a Mandalorian tradition," the Commander told him, following his gaze. "Some of the men have picked it up. I don't know the full translation they start with, but the purpose is to remember the names of those who have passed." She paused, quieting as she looked at him. "It keeps their memories alive."

Keeps their memories alive. Nib and Cred were dead, his brothers and best friends.

"I'm sure they'd let you join them, if you ask," the Commander said, leaning forward to try to look into his face. '42 averted his eyes, then looked at the three older men, so far from being shiny and new. Did they do this after every battle? Did they have to? How did they keep going, when they lost the ones closest to them?

"I'm a Jedi," the Commander continued, leaning back and speaking almost more to herself than to him. "We're not supposed to mourn. Becoming a part of the Force isn't supposed to be something you grieve over." The lighter tone to her voice grew more somber. "It doesn't make it easy, though. Or wrong, to remember."

Memories were all he had now. Memories of Nib smiling, of Cred trying to cheat at cards to get some credits. Both of them dragging him through training. Nib tutoring him, Cred quizzing him and whacking him with a pillow when he gave a wrong answer. Cred talking about what designs he was going to get on his armor after his first battle; Nib chewing on the end of his stylus while he tried to sketch out Cred's imaginings onto a datapad. None of them were very good at art, but Nib tried.

"Keeps their memories alive," '42 echoed, and the Commander looked at him. The memories hurt, to remember. But they were all he had now, of his brothers. He hadn't thought too much about what he wanted on his armor. Maybe a stylus and a credit chip, somewhere.

"Keeps," he said aloud, softly first, then again, more firmly. "Keeps."

Commander Tano was looking at him, puzzled.

He wiped at his face a little. There was still wetness on his cheeks. "You asked me my name, a minute ago. Didn't have one then. Got one now. Keeps."

The puzzled pucker to her brows eased, and she smiled. His armor was dirty now; he wasn't a shiny anymore, though the price of dirt was too high. Maybe that was what it meant, to be a veteran in the GAR; experiencing loss, losing brothers, but to keep on moving forward. He missed Nib. He missed Cred. The three brothers standing by the trees had lost so many more, judging by the way they continued, on and on, with names.

It was going to hurt, and keep hurting. Nib and Cred. Their names were Nib and Cred, and they were his brothers, and they were dead. He couldn't do much but keep their memory alive. Cred would be doing everything he could think of to chat up the Commander, acting like an idiot in the process – Nib would be sighing and doing what he could to calm him down and keep him from saying anything inappropriate to a superior, especially a female one. That's what they'd be doing, if they were with him now, sitting with the Commander and talking.

It would have been funny. He'd have sat there, smiling, trying to help Nib but vying for the Commander's attention too. A weak smile wobbled on his lips for a moment, before he lowered his head and felt his eyes water again. His fingers tightened on his blaster.

"It's a good name," Commander Tano said, and there was an orangey colored hand on his shoulder again. She was smiling, but it wasn't a smile of happiness – more of sympathy, of concern, of shared pain. Her eyes were blue, sad. She'd lost people too.

"Nib and Cred," he replied, looking first at her, then his blaster. "Their names were Nib and Cred."

Her hand left his shoulder, fell into her lap, but her eyes stayed on him. "Tell me about them."

They'd have been so pleased, a couple of shinies, to get the attention of the Commander after their first battle. They'd have smiled so hard. He sniffled long and hard, trying to ignore how crude it was while he blinked several times to keep the tears from falling out of his eyes.

He wished he could have told them his name. They would have liked it.

He smiled. It wasn't a smile of happiness, but of good memories savored in a time of pain. Nib would have approved.

Sitting beside the Commander, full of memories, Keeps began to speak.

This one was a request from awhile back, from Vixen. The request was for Ahsoka talking to some shinies after a battle. There's only one shiny, but I hope you still like it!

~Queen