The days had been slow and monotonous, and they all seemed to blend together in Rex's mind. Truth be told, he liked it that way. Routine was comforting, and it was a luxury he was still getting used to. He rose early, and went to bed exhausted, but not in the same way he used to be exhausted, where every day was a catalogue of faces he'd never see again, burned into his memory as he slept. The farm life was quiet - or it should have been. These days, it was getting harder and harder for Rex to push back on the intrusive nightmares and thoughts that coursed through his head. His nightmares were getting worse, and thinking of them churned up waves of nausea and dread. Every night, he watched helpless as the Jedi turned on him and his brothers. He hadn't been there when it had finally unravelled, but he knew this is what his brothers must have felt, this despair and rage and betrayal. Every night, he woke up drenched in cold sweat and shaking. They were getting worse, more graphic, more painful, and Rex found that no matter how exhausted he was, they were there. They were always there.

Rex was tinkering with the derelict looking speeder parked in the hangar attached to the house. He guessed it was around oh-four hundred hours from the softness of the light he could make out from the hangar's little windows, but it didn't particularly matter to him. He'd more or less given up sleeping - he only really made a show of it to keep Ahsoka from worrying. She had enough on her plate right now, he reflected, tightening the bolts on the panel he'd loosened to inspect. She'd wanted to help him with his work, and the thought made him smile fondly. Of course she'd wanted to help. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. She always had been. He remembered the way she'd borne the authority of command, of the lives of his brothers, with exceptional grace and compassion. She'd been fourteen when the Jedi had thrown her into their schemes, isolating her from other kids her age and asking her to replace them with death and blaster fire. She'd done it, too, and Rex realised how fiercely proud of her he'd always been. When Ahsoka commanded, his brothers followed.

It hadn't been easy for her, though. He could still see the look on her face when she'd gotten out of her fighter after her first command in the space over Ryloth. She'd survived that scrap, and he'd been grateful for that much, but his brothers under her command hadn't been so lucky. He'd wanted to go to her, to hold her, to thank every little superstitious thing his brothers had done to ensure victory for at least bringing her back. But she hadn't come back from that mission. Not really. He'd hung back as General Skywalker confronted her, watching the way her eyes stayed fixed on the ground. She had the hunted look of a trapped animal - she knew she'd gambled and lost, and the reality of the loss was staggering. He'd watched as a brother offhandedly voiced his concern that the General wasn't going to be present to guide them - meaning no offense of course - and the humility and shame and understanding she'd expressed at his words. He'd wanted to protect her then, too. To tell her he still believed in her. He knew from her response that the girl who had left for battle had never returned, and he felt himself bristle now in her defence. They'd both been pawns to the Jedi, and they'd both paid with their lives.

Finishing with the panel he'd just taken apart, Rex flipped the hood covering the speeder's engine up and checked the oil levels aimlessly, knowing full well that he was really only killing time. He'd run through a pre-departure check of this speeder every time he'd gone on a supply run, the military precision of the gesture feeling strangely comforting to him in a life that suddenly seemed so... unstructured. Everything was, as it always was, in order. He sighed, gently lowering the hood to avoid slamming it and waking Ahsoka, who would feel the vibrations of the impact in her montrals even deep in sleep. He wished he could join her - the weight of the sleep he hadn't been getting was crushing, and making it impossible to perform basic tasks efficiently. Even caf wasn't enough to fight off the fatigue, and sometimes the nightmares forced themselves into his half-sleeping, half-waking state. He couldn't fight it off forever, he reflected, willing his eyes to focus, but he could keep moving, and that would fend it off at least a little while longer. Leaving the speeder alone, Rex made his way over to the wall where he'd hung his weapons. While most of his standard issue weapons and armour were safely packed out of sight, his twin DC-17s were hanging carefully on pegs near the workbench, unassuming amongst an assortment of farming equipment. They hadn't been used much since he'd put them there - occasionally he'd take them down to dispatch some local fauna that decided to meddle with his equipment, but other than that, they were inert. Although their home was relatively remote, and none of the locals were likely to have had a particularly close look at Republic-issue weapons anyway, the thought of using the blasters somewhere where they might be identified made Rex uncomfortable, and for the most part, they'd remained unused. Still, they were in good working order, and it seemed a shame to let them gather dust while he resigned himself to using outdated farm equipment to deal with pests. Rex took them down and twirled them experimentally, getting used to their weight in his hands again. The gesture was both strange and familiar at the same time, but it came to him naturally. It's almost like I was born to do this, he smiled bitterly, the irony of the statement far from lost on him. The thought settled uncomfortably into the pit of his stomach, and quickly checking that the safeties were still engaged, he slipped the blasters into his belt at his hips as he opened the hangar door, suddenly desperate for a breath of fresh air.

The early morning air was calm and still. It was still dark out. Perfect. Rex squinted through the gloom until he could just make out the path away from the farm and into the plains, and with what felt like an extreme amount of effort for so simple a task, willed himself to walk. Dawn was when most of Dantooine's wildlife seemed to be most active, and finally getting around to clearing out that kinrath nest seemed like the kind of job that might force his eyes to stay open a little longer. His fingers found the grips of the blasters he carried and seemed to draw strength from their presence, curling around the well worn surface as they'd so often done before. Picking off some of the oversized bugs would be welcome target practice after such a long time. They'd be out foraging at this time of day, and if he could take out some of the ones responsible for laying eggs, at least maybe he could keep the damn things away from his equipment. He let himself focus on the crunch of the dirt path under his feet as he moved out into the plains, keeping his eyes fixed on the shifting grey mass of grasslands ahead of him. A light breeze had picked up as he walked, tousling the rolling grass sea that spanned out in front of him, and Rex felt a pang of frustration. He could see the tiny hollow in the distance where he knew the nest should be, at the base of a hill topped with a single stunted tree, but its opening was obscured by the tall grass. Typical. Stifling a yawn, Rex loosened his DC-17s from their place in his belt, switched off their safeties, and headed towards the hollow slowly, scanning the movements in the grass around him.

The wind was slight enough to move the tips of the long stalks, but time spent out in the plains had taught Rex to identify the way the grass moved when it was disrupted at its base. As he neared the hollow, he could hear the high-pitched screeching noises that the creatures made to one another, and carefully, he moved towards the sounds, biding his time. Kinrath were hive creatures, and as soon as he attacked one of them, the rest of them would start to swarm to try and keep him away from the matriarch. All he needed to do was take her out. Raising his blasters to eye level, he inched closer to the opening of the nest, which he could now see was shifting as the enormous creatures scuttled in and out. It was the moment before the plunge, and Rex felt himself smiling as a shiver of adrenaline coursed through him. Finally something simple, an act he could understand. In one perfectly practiced sweep, Rex rose from his crouch, aimed, and fired.

The shot found its mark, cleanly felling a large kinrath at the entrance of the nest. The sound and the blast immediately triggered a reaction from inside the hive, and the spider-like creatures rushed out of the darkness, hissing in fury. Rex was calm despite the flurry, a sort of relief flowing through him as he fell back on buried instincts. His blasters roared to life, the sound bringing a rush of memories into his mind as his body fell into the familiar rhythm he'd cultivated over years of combat's toll. Time seemed to slow, movement blurred, and Rex felt his movements merge into a unified stream of action. Killing the kinrath was a reflex, and Rex let his body take over, responding to its surroundings reflexively. He suddenly remembered one of the training simulations he'd run back on Kamino, before he'd ever been deployed, and the way he and his squadmates had been when things had been simpler. There was no confusion or betrayal in the simulator - just clones and clankers. And more confidence than he'd ever felt again.

A particularly large kinrath reared onto its hind legs behind him, and Rex had just enough time to pivot and lunge out of the way of its flailing pincers, silencing its shrieking with two careful shots. The swarm was intensifying, and for each kinrath Rex took down, it seemed another was always ready to replace it. The matriarch would be somewhere inside the hive, protected by her children. He'd reach her soon enough - this was a fairly young hive, and he wasn't in any particular hurry. The target practice was welcome and simple, and he felt a rush of adrenaline every time a shot found its mark. Nothing mattered but this. Nothing mattered but the creatures in front of him, the way they struck out with powerful cuts to his body, the way they missed and screamed and died. He'd been out of the fight for a long time, but he realized as his heart pumped faster that he'd never truly left the war. Maybe the Kaminoan cloners had been right about him and his brothers. They'd designed them, raised them, trained them for the single purpose of fighting and dying - maybe it was all they were good for. In the simple act of clearing out a kinrath hive, Rex realized that he felt alive. The realization was an icy shiver that trickled down his spine and into his core. No life after war. He dove, feeling a kinrath clip his arm and tear the fabric of his tunic as he did so. His arm stung, but the wound was only a scratch, and the creature fell with a smoking hole through its exoskeleton. The thought nagged at him, and the adrenaline fuelled serenity of his movements shattered as a memory of Fives flashed into his mind, replacing calm with agony as his brother's final words tore through his chest.

Finally... free.

The only release from the Jedi's war was death. Clones weren't designed to survive, they were designed to die. Rex felt as though he was being suffocated, his fighting becoming more desperate as he clung to it, feeling as though if he stopped the world might grind to a halt and unravel around him. How could he have ever believed that he could be a farmer? No one escaped. No one ever escaped! He'd fought in their war with everything he had, he'd been a Republic slave, just like his brothers. And that's all he was ever designed to be. He'd watched them die, sometimes one at a time, and other times in numbers he couldn't fathom. He'd tried not to make a habit of getting too attached to the shinies, fresh faced and eager to please from the moment they set foot on the battlefield, but he knew each one of them as he watched them die, the looks in their eyes changing from terror to quiet relief. A freedom that the Jedi had never intended for them to receive any other way. He hated what they'd done to him, what they'd done to his brothers! They were treated like trained kath hounds, taught to obey orders without thought and die for a future they were never meant to have any part in. And when they couldn't use us anymore, they put us down like animals and betrayed everything we'd helped them build! His arm stung where it had been slashed, and feeling suddenly trapped and half blind in his fury, Rex wheeled, feeling the presence behind him, raised his blasters, and fired. The moments which followed seemed to span for an eternity.

Rex knew he should have been staring at a kinrath, but in the moment he pulled his triggers, all he saw was a padawan. She was small in stature, no more than a child, her eyes wide with the remnants of terror as consciousness drained from them slowly. He watched her fall, helpless, his eyes fixated on the twin scorch marks his blasters had made in her tunic. His head was pounding, and he felt like the lump in his throat might suffocate him as he folded to his knees. The adrenaline dissipated and his vision swam as he fought back a wave of nausea. The padawan was a crumpled heap in the homogenous grey of the morning, but as he forced himself back to his feet, he knew it had been a trick of his exhausted mind. There was no padawan out here on the 'Rim, and as he approached the shape in the grass, he saw that it had been a kinrath, just like the others. He looked around, surveying the field of dead creatures, resisting the way his mind warped their bodies into recognisable forms in the darkness.

Another wave of nausea caught him, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. So this is what it came to, the grand purpose of his creation. He turned his back on the scattered creatures, not trusting himself even as far as to check that he'd taken out the matriarch. The Jedi had betrayed him and his brothers, but the thought of killing their younglings filled him with disgust. He hadn't been able to stop himself. Deeply shaken, he moved out of the field and back towards the house. There was no chance of sleep now, despite his exhaustion, and Rex didn't think he could bear to be in the same room as Ahsoka after what he'd seen, and the revulsion he felt for himself. He hated them, didn't he? The eyes of the terrified padawan flashed through his mind and he felt his chest constrict. He wasn't sure he knew her name, but her definitely knew her face. She was one of the near-human species- Tholothian?- padawans he'd watched Ahsoka teach, a plucky kid that had picked up some of 'Soka's nerve as she'd grown. Padawans were Jedi, too, weren't they? The surge of anger that rushed through him even at the thought of the younglings brought cold sweat to the back of his neck. The intensity of his reaction to thinking of a youngling scared him. What the hell is wrong with me? She was just a kid... Slipping back into the hangar, Rex tried to keep his hands steady as he placed his blasters back on the wall. It was just a hallucination, but it had been real enough to him, and there was nothing imagined about the way he'd felt when he'd pulled his triggers. Exhausted and shaken, Rex slumped into the chair at the workbench, sliding the now cold cup of caf he'd left half finished towards him. With desperate urgency, he swallowed the bitter dregs in the mug and crumpled over the workbench, every muscle in his body aching, but powerless to keep himself from shaking as he waited for the dawn.

He had no sense of how long it had been since he'd returned to the garage, and the turmoil in his mind had kept him completely unaware of his surroundings until the hiss of the door that linked the garage to the house echoed distantly amidst his tortured thoughts. He followed the sound to its source, slowly moving out of the dark recesses of his mind until he could focus on his surroundings again. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement, and he lifted his head from his arms and turned to face the door in time to see Ahsoka slip through, still wrapped in the oversized linen tunic she slept in, hands tucked across her body and under her arms against the morning chill. The door hissed shut behind her and she caught sight of him, her bright blue eyes locking onto his.

"Rex? What are you doing in here? We don't need to leave for another few hours at least."

Rex pitched around for an answer, but nothing coherent emerged. He could see Ahsoka's eyes glimmer with confusion, and he took a deep breath, willing his thoughts to coalesce.

"Morning, 'Soka... I was just, uh... I thought I'd left a crate of supplies in the ag unit, just wanted to make sure we, uh... didn't forget it today."

He winced and glanced back at her to see if he'd been compelling, but Ahsoka's eyes weren't focused on his face anymore. Following the line of her gaze, he felt the lump in his throat return. She'd noticed the blood-stained tear in his tunic, the place the kinrath had gashed him. In a few quick strides she'd crossed the room and was forcing his tunic off of his shoulder. He offered no resistance, knowing it would do no good. Ahsoka was gentle but deliberate, her rust-toned fingers contrasting his deep tan as they traced the gash in his forearm. It wasn't a severe injury, but he hadn't cleaned it when he got in, and it had bled enough to seal torn fibers from his tunic into the wound. Ahsoka carefully lifted the fabric to free what she could of the tattered cloth from the cut. It stung, but Rex was determined not to let it show.

"...What happened to you?"

"Uh, one of the harvesting droids... clipped me when I was digging for the crate in the ag unit..."

Ahsoka said nothing, but he could tell she didn't believe him from the hurt in her eyes. Rex felt like something had knocked the wind out of him, and let his eyes drop as Ahsoka pulled the tattered sleeve free and slipped the tunic off of his arm and shoulder. She left for a moment and vanished into the house, and Rex let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He couldn't tell her what he'd seen, what he'd done. She would never trust him if she knew what was tearing through his mind... and maybe she shouldn't. He felt the guilt and fear tighten his chest as she returned with a bowl of water and a roll of fabric. He shouldn't let her near him, but in his current state, he didn't have the energy to resist her. Ahsoka set the bowl and cloth down on the workbench and picked up a small towel that had been floating in the water, alongside some fragrant leaves Rex couldn't identify. She mopped at the cut delicately, the white cloth turning pink as the dried blood loosened. The warm water seemed to burn him as it trickled down his arm, but it cleaned remarkably well, and he let Ahsoka work without comment. He trusted her with his life, which was more than he deserved. Gently, Ahsoka placed the towel back in the water and carefully applied a bacta patch to his arm to speed up the healing process before binding the cut with the clean fabric. He watched her work, wishing he could explain everything to her, but for the first time in his life, fear had silenced him. His lack of control out on the plains had shaken him, and in the time he'd returned to the hangar to the time Ahsoka had found him, he'd been replaying his brother Tup's final moments in his mind, watching in horror as Tup lost control and shot down their General at point-blank. He watched it happen over and over again, letting it obsess him, unable to shut it out. He'd done it on the plains... he'd done it, too...

The thought slipped away as Ahsoka finished wrapping his arm and pulled his torn tunic back over his shoulder.

"You should probably rest that for a while or it will re-open. Why don't you do your engine check, and I'll go change and then get the rest of the supply crates and load them up? Shouldn't take long."

It had been phrased as a question, but Rex realised it wasn't. Ahsoka slipped her arms around his neck and held him for a moment, her grasp lingering for a moment. He could smell the heady plants lingering on her skin, and for a moment, his mind fell silent. But only for a moment. She released him slowly and slipped away, vanishing back into the house as the door hissed shut behind her. Rex watched her go and fought the buzzing that was bubbling up in the back of his mind again as he got up to fill his mug again. The caf was putting him even further on edge he knew, but without it, he risked losing what little focus he had left. The more of it he drank, the less it seemed to help him, and yet it was all there was. He'd already done his engine check, so he focused on the drink instead, waiting. It wasn't long before Ahsoka re-emerged, now dressed in a simple, belted brown tunic and a pair of utilitarian leggings and boots. She smiled weakly at him as she passed, and hit the button that opened the hangar door. The large doors opened slowly and with a grating creak, and Ahsoka passed through them and into the orange dawn glow, heading towards the ag unit. Rex finished his caf and headed towards the speeder, opening the storage hatch at the back and running through his checklist one last time in an effort to stay focused. Most of the crates of grain had been loaded up already, and Ahsoka returned with the final few moments later. The job was done quickly and silently, and Rex slammed the hatch shut, perhaps more forcefully than he'd meant. Ahsoka glanced back up at him, a single white marking on her brow arching in concern.

"Rex, are you sure you're okay? You seem... tired..."

Rex sighed, forcing the fear back again. Keep it together, soldier! You're losing your damn head.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Let's just get going."

Ahsoka frowned.

"Okay. Go change your tunic first, though - that one might get us some weird looks... I think I'd better drive today."

Rex was barely aware of the Dantooine landscape as they made their way over the plains and towards Khoonda. Ahsoka drove a lot like her old master used to fly, but Rex was too tense to let it bother him today. While Ahsoka's speed usually put him on edge, today it was as though his body was finally moving at the same velocity as his heart. He let the wind wash over him, and he felt it play across his closely cropped hair. It was tangible, and that was reassuring - his senses seemed so muffled, and it took all of his strength to feel the world around him. Ahsoka was quiet, and Rex was grateful for that - he wasn't sure he'd be capable of conversation if he tried, and he was afraid of what he might say. A drive that normally seemed monotonous passed in a blur of fields and farmhouses and dawn-stained plains, and Khoonda's dated buildings soon began to loom on the horizon. Rex focused on them, trying to keep himself in the present as much as he possibly could. The structures looked like they'd been clean and respectable once, but time had worn them down, and the Outer Rim wasn't exactly a trading hub. Ahsoka eased up on the speeder slightly as they approached the city, and scattered buildings that made up the outskirts of the settlement grew in number. They were mostly dingy scrap shops and diners, and the early risers of Khoonda were already up and milling in the streets as they passed, on their way to the administrative centre of the settlement or the main market sector, where they were going. Rex watched them as they passed, wondering what their lives were like. There'd been a time when he'd have seen their lives as purposeless, wasted in pointless survival when a greater purpose called the galaxy to war. He felt a pang of fear as he watched the citizens of Khoonda gathering, talking, living, and realized that he may have deserted the army, but he'd never left the war. He'd never lived like they did, and he felt his muscles tighten as the fear cut deeper. He wasn't designed to live like these people did. He couldn't stop thinking like a soldier, and the thought filled him with apprehension. He could feel his heart pounding again, hands clenching until his knuckles started to turn white. Was this all there was for him?

"Rex?"

The sound of Ahsoka's voice jarred him, and he started in surprise, his eyes refocusing and his mind falling still. He turned his head and saw that they'd stopped: the speeder was parked alongside a large warehouse that sheltered Khoonda's market, which was just beginning to buzz with activity. Ahsoka put her hand on his arm gently, squeezing it reassuringly. Her eyes were fixed on him, and he couldn't tell if fear, concern, or helplessness was most dominant in the way she tracked his movements.

"Rex... you look exhausted... why don't you just help me unload and then go and wait for me in the cantina? This really won't take long, and you look like you need a rest."

Rex opened his mouth to protest, but Ahsoka shot him a disapproving glance.

"Don't, Rex. Please? You're really worrying me. Just take a break, okay? I promise I can handle this."

Before he could respond, Ahsoka was out of the speeder and unloading the supply crates from the storage hatch. Rex followed her, knowing he didn't have the strength to argue. He could use a distraction, and he didn't trust himself to be of much use to her anyway. The thought of his emotions getting in the way of helping with basic tasks frustrated him, but he knew Ahsoka could be stubborn, and decided arguing would just exhaust him further. Ahsoka gave him a tiny smile and squeezed his hand one last time before heading into the market, and Rex watched her make her way inside, her shoulders braced against the weight of the crate she was carrying. He knew she was struggling against the current of something he couldn't really understand. Ever since he'd found her in the ruins, she'd seemed lost and uncertain in her actions, like she'd stopped being able to see. The look on her face when she'd told him she wanted to be useful and to help around the farm had been full of desperation and urgency, like she'd needed to know she still could. He'd respected that, and he'd felt her pain resonate within him - after all, what good was a soldier outside of war? She was hurting, too... and yet, she was pushing forward. He wished he had her strength and resilience, the traits that he'd seen inspire his men to follow her into battle. Nothing ever seemed to keep her down for long. He turned away and headed down the street towards the cantina, privately wishing he could say the same for himself.

The hiss of the cantina's door brought with it the gust of the familiar smell of stale beer and grime, and Rex thought of the bars he'd spent time in on Coruscant in the company of his brothers as he stepped into the dimly lit room. He lingered at the door for a moment as he waited for his eyes to adjust from the glare of the bright morning outside, and as his eyes focused in the darkness, he noted without much surprise that there were only a handful of locals lingering by the bar, watching a holo broadcast of a local podrace. Rex moved quietly into the bar and took a seat at a booth by the bar. Yes, it certainly was a far cry from Coruscant. The bars he'd been to there were mostly visited by clones, and while they weren't exactly high class establishments, they were maintained at the same standard of military efficiency that clones were used to in basically every other aspect of their lives. He'd been to this place a few times before, and he knew from experience that it was nothing like the bars he was used to.

A small, incredibly damaged service droid caught sight of Rex and clattered towards him, stopping at his table with a mechanical wheeze.

"Good m-m-morning. What c-c-c-can I get you?"

It was early for a drink, but Rex was too tense to care, and in his current state, he didn't think he was fit to drive anyway. He could use something to help him relax a little.

"Corellian ale. Whatever you have on tap is fine."

Before the droid could strain its obviously damaged vocabulator again, Rex extended a handful of credits towards it, which vanished into a small compartment that looked like a badly installed after-market add on. It looked like it had seen its fair share of action in this place, and he was surprised the thing was still functional considering the number of dents and gashes it was sporting in its outer casing. Satisfied with its payment, the droid spared him further conversation and clattered away again, leaving Rex alone at his table. The noise from the bar was growing, and he assumed from the angry shouting that the locals were about to lose their bets. His mind was still buzzing when his drink came, deposited in front of him haphazardly by the droid. He took a sip, unsurprised to find it warm and not particularly good. Nonetheless, he drank it, cradling the dirty glass in both hands to keep them from shaking. He couldn't get the events of the last night out of his head, and he wished he could forget the youngling he'd seen, and the way he'd torn her down. He wished he could bury all of that - hell, he'd tried! But the impulse was unsettlingly strong, and he felt as though he was trapped in his own body, watching someone else take control. He knew he couldn't entirely distance himself from what had happened, though. That was the part that scared him most. He took a deep breath and a long drink, but the panic that was building in him refused to be silenced. There had been a part of him that had felt that his actions were right.

"Hey!"

Rex tensed, noticing that the angry shouting that had been his ambient backdrop had silenced. He turned his head slightly in the direction of the men at the bar and found that their podrace was over, and they were all focused intently on him. It was a group of five men of average build, and from the way they were dressed, Rex guessed they were probably salvagers, just off of a night of foraging for jettisoned junk around the spaceport. They were wearing grimy work clothes and covered in grease, and the one closest to him was wearing a scowl that Rex didn't appreciate at all, appeared to be drunk already, and looked determined to start something.

"Yeah, you. Don't turn away, I wanna see your face!"

Rex sighed, taking another sip of his drink. This was the last thing he needed right now, and he desperately hoped the man's attention span would be limited.

"I'm just here for a quiet drink, okay? I'm not looking for trouble."

The man started laughing, a long, grating sound that his friends quickly picked up on. Rex kept his eyes firmly fixed on a spot on the wall in front of him, hoping the man would tire and go back to his drinks.

"Hear that boys? He says he's not looking for trouble!"

The man suddenly veered into his line of sight, clutching a glass of something viscous and grey that Rex didn't recognise, but that he was willing to bet tasted something like engine coolant. He could feel prying eyes boring into his skin to the point of discomfort, and glanced up at the man in time to catch a triumphant look spread across his face.

"Not lookin' for trouble, eh? Well, maybe it's trouble you deserve!"

Rex found that his patience was wearing thin, and the tension he already felt across his entire body wasn't helping. Quietly, determinedly, he tried to ignore the taunt, setting his jaw firmly against his building frustration. He knew better than to pick fights with scum. The man had turned to his friends and was pointing furiously at Rex.

"I know what he is! He's a clone! I seen his kind before. Too expensive, take too long to grow... y'ask me the Separatists had the right idea with the droid army. Droids, they do what y' tell 'em to. Clones just ain't natural, don't do their jobs! Look at this one! Must'a run off! Probably defective."

Rex didn't know when he'd started grinding his teeth or clenching his fists, but he couldn't seem to shut out the man's words. He'd heard this kind of talk before, and normally, he'd ignored it. It was part of the reason he and his brothers had kept to the clone bars on Coruscant. Clones were used to rough treatment from people who hated and feared them, but suddenly, the words were digging deeper than they should have. To so many, he and his brothers were inferior options to droids. That's all they'd been to the Jedi, too, and the thought overpowered Rex, filling him with fury. He'd left the Army because he'd begun to understand the way they'd been used and treated, but a part of him was still wounded, fighting viciously against the claims that had been levelled against him. Defective?

The man turned to his friends, his abrasive laugh leaving Rex raw.

"See? Nothing but a trained kath hound. This one took off though, must be a damn coward. What a waste. Can't even follow orders!"

Can't even follow orders. The words rippled through his mind, and for a fleeting moment, everything fell felt something shatter within him as though it was tangible. Pain and anger and betrayal flooded through his body, cutting him off from his senses and overwhelming him at last. He couldn't hold it off any longer. He was dully aware of the sound of shattering glass and the shouts of the other men in the bar, but they echoed in his consciousness meaninglessly, drowned out by the roar of emotion he couldn't restrain. He'd tried so hard for so long to forget the past and move forward, the memories of his fallen friends torturing him, reminding him of lives cut short. But what were their lives, really? What was his own life? He felt himself responding, no longer able to restrain himself as he took down the man that had challenged everything he'd been trained to be. He realized distantly that the man was beneath him, and felt his fists connecting with the now helpless man's writhing body. The other men in the bar were yelling, calling for help, but none of them stepped forward themselves. He was, before all else, a soldier. He was CT-7567. He felt agony course through his body as familiarity overwhelmed him, knowing now that what he feared most had finally won, that his nature could not be denied. It was almost a relief to stop resisting, after the chaos and distance, fear and uncertainty, this was the one thing Rex knew for certain he could do. He could fight, disarm, and kill, and function as a part of the machine that had made the Republic so powerful. But beneath the release, Rex was deeply afraid. It was as if his body was responding on its own while his mind remained in turmoil, and somewhere beneath the veil of confusion, the horrible memory of Tup's final moments burned itself into his mind. The fear in Tup's eyes when he'd realized what he'd done consumed Rex's consciousness, his world collapsing into the moment he'd watched his brother give in to something beyond his control. The man beneath him was screaming, but despite the fear and horror that filled him as dark realization set in, Rex couldn't stop himself. His thoughts were white noise, blurred and indistinguishable and amplified by cold terror. Out of the storm, only one thought rose to the surface of his mind, its presence clear and commanding and comforting. It was a familiar thought from the very core of his being, and in its presence, he knew who and what he was again. It was all he'd ever had, and now it was all that mattered.

Good soldiers follow orders.