Dear Reader, Thank you first of all to my reviewers: CT-782, CRB35, Queen Nagaina, LLTC, and Teetertottered. I truly appreciate your feedback! This is a somewhat long chapter, and I really had to think about it: clones dancing . . . Hmmm! When I wrote it umpty-ump years ago, I thought, "Oh, that would be fun!" But it was important to me to keep this story fairly serious, so I went the way of Jane Austen! The whole dance bit will probably read like a scene out of one of her stories! Again, a little "spirituality" in here; no judgments! I hope you enjoy! Peace, CS PS. Justin Hayward's Celtic Heart is a gorgeous song that you can find on Youtube. If you like lilting Celtic-sounding stuff, you may like it!
Chapter 24 Learning to Dance
"Everybody can dance. We'll carry our dreams to the highest of heights."
Celtic Heart
Justin Hayward
"By the Force, we were worried half out of our wits over you." This confession came from Hardcase.
"That's the truth," Jesse agreed. "Pitch even decided to take up praying, if you can believe it."
Pitch nodded his confirmation.
"Sorry I made you worry," Kix replied, his voice raspy and thin. But his brothers didn't care how he sounded. Just to hear him speak after so many days of uncertainty was more than good enough.
"Well, it's not like it's the first time," Hardcase rejoined. "As a medic, you sure end up being the patient an awful lot."
Kix managed a feeble and not-quite-in-my-right-mind-yet curve of his lips that was almost a smile. "Only once on active duty."
"Okay, that's true," Hardcase conceded. "We won't count basic."
"Who was singing?" Kix had already moved on disjointedly to the next topic.
"Singing? You mean the festival singing?" Pitch stated. "We'll, uh, save that for another time, when you're a little more lucid."
Rex stepped forward and regarded his medic with warmth. "Looks like you're going to be okay."
"Captain . . . " It was a force of habit and training that Kix wanted to be more presentable in his captain's presence; but his attempt at ratcheting up his bearing a notch was a complete failure. "Is your arm still bothering you?"
Rex's eyes widened in amusement. Of course, Kix would remember that his captain had injured his arm in a firefight on Pylotta, and the part of Kix that was a medic first and foremost apparently could not be suppressed even by his own fogged mind.
"No, it's not bothering me at all anymore," Rex replied, leaving out the account of the injuries he had sustained since then. "How do you feel?"
"Em . . . tired, kind of weak," Kix answered fuzzily.
"Well, that's no surprise," Rex said. "You've been through a lot."
At this, Au-Josat spoke quietly into Rex's ear. "He remembers what happened, but I don't recommend bringing it up right now. Disturbing memories aren't good for the healing process."
Rex nodded, although he still subscribed to the notion that the clones were bred to overcome all manner of distress – physical and emotional. And Kix was tough – probably a lot tougher than most of them, given the horrors he often came face-to-face with in his job. While injury and death were things the rest of the clones saw for fleeting moments on the battlefield, for Kix and all the other medics in the GAR, they were constantly exposed to the flow of suffering and pain. Many had grown callouses over their emotions that allowed them to do their job one moment and promptly forget what they'd seen the next.
Kix had never developed any such defense mechanism. He felt every injury and every death of his battalion mates – deeply and fully. In fact, what enabled him to continue on as one of the very best in such a difficult and demanding field without succumbing to grief and burn-out was that very lack of detachment.
Rex thought back to Pylotta when he and Jesse had watched Kix at work over Echo and Grommet's man; he recalled his own pride and gratefulness that Kix was one of his troops. And now, when he thought of how close they'd come to losing him, he was only just beginning to realize how devastating that loss would have been, how much Kix acted as a grounding rod for the lightning tempers that often flared in combat units, how—almost as a matter of course—Kix was the peacemaker, the middleman, the negotiator. The one with good sense.
"You just take it easy and heal up fast," the captain continued. "We need you back on your feet. These guys—" he jerked his head towards Jesse, Pitch and Hardcase, "—can barely function without you."
Kix closed his eyes and grinned. "I know."
With that, Rex eyed the three squad mates. "Don't keep him awake all hours. He needs rest." He crossed his arms and struck a formidable pose. "And now I am officially giving you a direct order. By sunrise, you will all go back to your quarters, eat, sleep, and clean yourselves up. I don't want to see you here until after the midday meal. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Captain," the three replied in unison.
Rex turned and shook Au-Josat's hand. "Thanks, doc."
"There's someone else who deserves as much—or more—thanks as me," the brother replied.
Rex assumed he was referring to the Doma, and so he faced her directly. "Thank you."
Maree raised her brows in surprise. "Me'Ente Loge is the one you should be thanking. I asked him to heal Kix." She paused. "He said that the brothers and sisters caring for him had already healed him, but that he would restore him to his senses. And he did."
Rex was not quite sure he was prepared to thank a being that he did not fully believe in. He still considered that what the Verviens and Austeniens regarded as a deific messenger might, in truth, simply be a higher life form. But the captain saw no harm in expressing some manner of gratitude.
"I don't know what I was seeing in the Taber. I don't know what was going on in there. But whatever the reason for Kix's recovery, I'm grateful for all you and your people have done," he allowed. "Not just for him, but for all of us."
Maree's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Merika told me you had not intended to attend the Finirest."
Rex colored slightly. "Oh, well, I hadn't, but . . . well, all the singing and the lights in the sky . . . I had to go see what was going on." He paused and gave a one-sided smile. "I have to admit, that was quite a performance you put on in there."
Maree stared at him with an indecipherable expression. Then, at last, she spoke in a voice that clearly conveyed her disappointment. "Performance?"
Rex immediately regretted his choice of words. "Oh—no, I didn't mean it like that. That—that wasn't the right word. I meant . . . it was very entertaining."
The disappointment morphed into a sort of sad understanding and acceptance. "I suppose that is how you would see it." She looked to Jesse, Hardcase and Pitch. "Gentlemen, I am glad you are at peace once more. If you will excuse me."
Rex saw his men looking expectantly at him. They knew—as did he—that an apology was in order.
But how to apologize for something that he didn't understand or believe?
He turned and went out into the hall after the Doma.
"Doma Maree," he said, pulling up beside her. She stopped walking and faced him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was . . . belittling the ceremony," he began earnestly. "To be honest, I don't know what to say. I mean, it was beautiful and mesmerizing, but I didn't know what was going on. I—I wasn't a participant; I was an observer, and I guess I used the kinds of words an observer would use to describe what I saw." It was a stumbling and graceless answer, but filled with honesty and genuine contrition for any offense he might have unwittingly given.
"Apology accepted, Captain," the Doma replied.
"So, you're not angry?"
"Only with your lack of manners," she replied, adding lightly, "But even that short-coming I can overlook in light of your other more . . . engaging qualities."
Rex anticipated a compliment, so he cracked a coy smile. "I have many."
Maree inclined her head. "Indeed, you do. Sometimes, you even demonstrate them."
She began walking again, and Rex walked beside her.
"So, what was happening in there?" Rex asked.
"The Finirest is when the souls of animals are taken into the Taber to be kept under my watch until the gates of eternity are opened," came the direct, unadorned explanation.
When Rex said nothing in reply, the Doma looked over to see him regarding her with many unspoken questions. It appeared he was mindful of talking out of turn and inadvertently giving offense.
"Not every animal soul, to be sure," she continued. "Only those given to me. There are many thousands of keepers throughout the created realms. Some keep animal souls like me. Others keep human—or should I say, more sentient—souls. The souls of the flora, the elements . . . every created entity has some imbuement of soul, whether a natural or supernatural soul. And when the material vessel dies or is destroyed, the soul that animated it then lies in wait."
"In wait . . . for what?"
"For the final judgment and eternity."
"The final judgment?"
"Every soul will be judged by the good or evil it has done during its existence," she replied. "The reason I am so happy that I have been charged with the protection of animal souls is that they can do no evil. They have a nature, and they follow it unflinchingly. I know all of my souls will find peace in eternity."
"That's, uh, that's very profound," Rex muttered uncomfortably.
The Doma, rather than pitying him his discomfort, decided to poke at him. "You, too, have a soul, Captain."
"Oh, well, I . . . em . . . I don't think I'd be very useful in the afterlife," Rex deferred.
"Why not?"
"I'd keep wanting to come back to this life," he answered.
Maree laughed, and Rex was surprised at how much he liked the sound of it.
"You're a very honest man," the Doma said, "I would not have realized how content you were in this life."
Rex looked at her curiously. "Why not? Did you think I must be miserable?"
"Miserable, no. But it does seem to me that enjoyment and fun play no great role in your life," she replied honestly. "Truly, I am surprised that a man who lives every day either fighting or waiting for the next battle would not find such a life utterly disagreeable."
"Part of me does find it disagreeable," Rex conceded. "But another part—the greater part—knows that this is what I was made for, and I'm good at it."
"You were made for this by . . . "
"The Kaminoans, at the request of the Jedi."
"You see no greater hand at work?"
"That's too complicated for me," Rex grinned. "Didn't Cody tell you before he left that I'm a pretty simple-minded man?"
"No, he didn't," she replied. "But even if he had, I wouldn't have believed that for an instant."
The came out into botanical garden where revelers were now exiting the Taber and all manner of booths were coming to life, vending spirits and foodstuffs. Different strains of music came different corners, and a carnival atmosphere was beginning to prevail.
"What's all this?" Rex asked.
"Now, we celebrate," Maree explained. "Two days of food and drink, music and singing and dancing, craft and handiwork. I hope you will join us and convince your men, as well."
"I don't think my men will need convincing," Rex replied.
"And you? Will you come to the festivities?"
"Well . . . maybe," Rex granted. "But don't expect me to sing or dance."
Maree cast him a shrewd eye. "I give you my word that I won't expect it."
Rex felt a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is it wrong that I don't trust a holy woman?"
"Rest assured, Captain Rex, I have absolutely no expectation of you singing or dancing. I cannot vouch for what the reality might be."
Rex liked the hint of foreboding in her voice.
"Fair enough," he agreed. "In that case, you can expect to see me at some of the events."
"Very good," Maree said pleasantly. "I can assure you, you will have a fine time."
The pavilion behind the Austenien's and Vervien's residence was very large, fifty meters by seventy meters, hung with brilliant multi-colored lights, and with flowing white and yellow sheers along the open sides. On one end was a raised platform that was now functioning as a stage, and all around the perimeter were benches and tables and chairs.
The place was filled to capacity with brothers, sisters, pilgrims, men and women and children of all shapes and sizes and ages. On the stage, a group of eight musicians were playing a kind of music that was certainly never played in the lofty halls of upper Coruscant any more than it was played in the murky bowels of the capitol planet. It was a bright, perky kind of music, very rhythmic and easy to follow, with a vocalist—if he could be called that—barking out instructions in a sing-song voice.
The dance, Rex was discovering from his seat along one of the sheer-draped walls, was very structured and unexpectedly fun to watch. Eight couples faced off, two on each side of a square. The movements involved either opposite sides of the square coming to the center and doing something, or a sort of swinging chain of going hand-to-hand with the partner of the opposite sex in the adjacent couple. All to the instructions of the caller.
Almost within minutes of Rex and his men arriving, they were the center of attention; and for most of the clones, a very willing center of attention. Au-Ogusta had brought them in and shown them to a group of tables and benches already reserved for them and immediately provided them with a round of the locally produced spirit. They did not need to be told by their captain that intoxication was unacceptable, but then again, they did not need alcohol to have a good time.
The proof of that came immediately when a group of teenaged girls approached them. They marched straight up and stood arrayed in front of Rex.
"Are you and your soldiers allowed to dance with us?" A pretty blonde asked.
Rex was taken aback by the girl's forwardness, but he replied nonetheless evenly, "They can dance with anyone they want." He shot a warning eye around at his men. "As long as they don't make spectacles of themselves."
"Oh, they've already done that!" the same girl stated.
Rex looked at her with confusion. "I—I beg your pardon?"
"When they went swimming naked! We saw them!" She blurted out, then without waiting a second, she turned to Sixer, whom she seemed to recognize – perhaps from the tattoo on his neck. "Come on! I'll show you how to do the Four-Two. It's easy! You'll love it!" Sixer was hauled off into the crowd before he could even accept her invitation.
Rex felt himself turning every shade of red at the girl's announcement. He'd known such a thing had happened, but to hear it spoken of so openly . . .
He hardly noticed as the other girls drew more of his men up from their seats to take a turn on the floor.
Au-Ogusta looked to Rex and shrugged. "Young girls."
Rex shook his head and sighed. "The Doma told me about the . . . girls' interest in my brothers. She said were a temptation."
"And so it appears," Au-Ogusta chuckled.
Rex watched as his men tried to learn the steps to the dance, led through the motions by the young girls, who all looked as if they'd found the key to happiness.
Sixer, March, and Tip seemed to pick up the moves right away, while the others muddled through. At one point, during the succession of partner exchanges, Sempe found himself partnered with Double Barrell, and the two pushed each other away with a great show of mock indignation.
They were having great fun, and even Rex had to admit that coming here was a good idea.
Many of the little boys whom the clones had trained showed up and even they danced with the little girls who were present, although the former were just as happy to run about creating havoc.
For the next hour, Rex kept a subtle eye out for the Doma, but she was nowhere to be seen, and he began to despair of seeing her at all that evening. There were so many celebrations going on, she might have gone to another location.
No matter. He focused his attention once more on the dance floor, where Echo—apparently well and fully healed—was holding onto the hands of the blond-haired girl, spinning around and around as the music came to an end and they both staggered a few dizzy steps before Bounce reached out a hand to steady them.
"Preela will have danced with every one of your men before the night is out," Au-Ogusta said. "She and Lutcha are very . . . forward." He paused, "Although they will have to make way for the ni-Doma, for they will want to dance as well."
"And not just the ni-Doma."
Rex and Au-Ogusta looked to their right to see Sister Anaide approach. She took a vacant seat across from them and looked out to the dancers.
"Are the brothers and sisters allowed to dance?" Rex asked.
"Of course," Au-Ogusta replied. "Look out there . . . you see many of them already dancing."
Rex saw that this was, in fact, the case. After all, what concern could there be with such dancing? It was not intimate, although some of the slower numbers involved a bit more contact – though at "waltz" distances.
The current number ended and several of the clones returned to the tables.
"Boy, those girls are sure persistent," Sixer announced breathlessly.
"You didn't seem to mind," Sempe ribbed.
"Yeah, but I can't believe a girl is dancing me into my grave," Sixer quipped. "They never get tired."
Echo then emerged from the milling crowd, and seeing Anaide at the table, he joined her with his usual amiable smile.
"Have you come to hear more stories?" he asked. "You were my best audience."
"I am always happy to listen to you tell your tales," Anaide replied. "But this time I have come to dance."
"With me?" Echo saw nothing wrong with his directness.
And neither did Anaide. "If you will ask me," she replied.
Echo beamed. He liked the way things worked here. He got back to his feet, and he seemed not in the least bit tired. "Will you dance with me?"
Anaide stood. "I would be happy to."
The musicians began to play something that sounded like a jig or a reel, and right away Anaide showed her skill, leading Echo through the steps. By the first coda, Echo had picked up the pattern and took over the lead.
"You're a fast learner," she complimented him. "And a very good dancer."
"We're adaptable," Echo smiled. "Although I didn't know that dancing was part of our adaptability."
"Have you ever danced before?"
"No, I can't think of a single time," Echo replied. "We haven't ever really had the opportunity." He looked down at her with a gleam in his eye. "You're the first woman I've ever been this close to."
"You were dancing with some of the other girls when I came in," she pointed out.
"Yes, they're girls," he replied. "Very sweet, but girls."
"And very intense," Anaide laughed. "They have been talking about nothing but you and your brothers since the day you arrived."
"Well, we are charming," Echo winked.
"Indeed, some of you more than others," Anaide agreed.
They danced the next three dances together, and then the musicians struck up a minuet, slow and precious and beautiful.
At a turn in their dance, Echo's gaze fell on a little girl sitting at a table on the opposite side from where he and his brothers were sitting. He had seen her many times as he'd danced, but she had never been out on the dance floor. Rather, she had sat the entire time on a bench next to a matronly woman who kept close tabs on her. She watched the other children dancing, and every time a boy came anywhere near the bench, she watched intently, seemingly in the hopes of being asked to dance. Then as the boys passed her by in favor of other little girls, she went back to looking into her lap and twirling the bow on her frock.
Echo could see why they were not asking her. Her face was deformed, and clearly the boys felt uncomfortable with the idea of asking her to dance – despite their being raised in a religious environment.
"That little girl . . . no one's asked her to dance all night," Echo stated, the pity clear in his voice.
"That's Yusani," Anaide replied. "She was born with that deformity, and sadly, children at her age can be very thoughtless."
Echo was silent for several seconds, then he looked Anaide in the eye. "Would you mind?"
The sister knew there was a reason she liked this soldier better than all the others. "Not at all."
With that, Echo approached the little girl.
When she realized that this tall, handsome soldier was coming directly to her, she backed up and hid behind the folds of the woman's frock.
Echo hunkered down in front of her.
"Would you please dance with me?" he asked gently, holding out his hand.
The girl looked as if she could not believe her eyes. She turned an excited gaze to the woman.
"Go on, my dear, the soldier wants to dance with you," the woman permitted with a loving smile.
The girl held out a tepid, trembling hand.
Echo took that tiny hand in his own and led her out only a few steps, being sure to keep in view of the matron. It became clear right away that dancing with a little girl was not practical, given the difference in height, so he leaned down, picked her up and balanced her on his hip.
"Much better!" he said.
The little girl stared at him, and Echo could see the awe and dreamy adoration in her eyes. It gave him a warm feeling inside, to know that he was bringing happiness to this child.
"You're a very good dancer," he told her.
She said nothing but her smile broadened.
"My name is Echo," he went on.
This made her giggle. "Echo," she repeated, then in rough Basic, she said, "I like."
"Thank you." And even though he already knew the answer, he asked, "What's your name?"
"Yusani."
"That's a pretty name . . . for a pretty little girl."
"No pretty," she disagreed.
"I think you're beautiful," Echo insisted, and he meant it. There was something about this child that reached deeper than just her appearance. It was quite simple, really: Echo had never had anyone look at him with the sort of enchanted love that Yusani had so quickly bestowed. Was the way she looked at him the same sort of expression that a father saw whenever he looked at his own child?
She motioned him close and whispered in his ear. "You pretty."
"Thank you," he replied.
"I like you most," she went on.
"But I'm the same as my brothers," Echo pointed out.
Yusani shook her head and gave a lopsided smile that was so genuine, so without self-consciousness, that it almost brought tears to his eyes.
"I like you most," she repeated.
The minuet ended and was followed by a more rousing number.
Echo looked at his partner. "Will you dance with me again?"
Of course, the response was a fervent head nod.
Echo looked over to the side where Anaide was smiling in a manner that told him the sister not only approved but was delighted at his show of attention for Yusani. He also noticed that many other little girls were looking on longingly, hoping for their own turns to dance with a dashing soldier.
Rex sat at his table and watched.
He watched Echo show, once again, just what made him such an exceptional man. Fighting skills aside, marriage to the regulations aside, Echo possessed a quality that Rex had only glimpsed on the Rishi moon.
Echo was a very sentimental, easily moved, and perhaps overly optimistic man who never despaired of the possibility of making everything right. Whatever wrongs plagued the galaxy, he was confident goodness could win the day. The loss of Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait, painful as it had been, had not dampened his spirit. He felt their absence every day; he missed them. But what separated him from Fives was his ability to see the way ahead, to find some meaning in even the most seemingly meaningless occurrences.
They were good qualities to have, and Rex considered himself fortunate that, though barely beyond Shinie, Echo was now a part of the 501st.
But good fortune seemed to be in great abundance tonight, proof being the arrival of Jesse, Hardcase and Pitch.
At first, Rex thought his eyes might be deceiving him; but as they drew nearer, led by Au-Sinti, he felt a great sense of satisfaction that they had finally—and apparently, willingly—pulled themselves away from Kix's side. Last night, they had done as ordered and gone back to their quarters, but Rex had found them once again in Kix's room immediately following the midday meal.
They were nothing, if not devoted.
"I'm surprised to see you all here," Rex announced as they sat down.
"He kicked us out," Hardcase grinned.
"Who?"
"Kix!" This from Pitch.
Rex thought this was very funny.
"He told us we were hovering," Jesse stated. "It bothered him to think we were there watching while he tried to sleep."
"Good for him," Sixer put forth, joining them.
Rex nodded. "I don't blame him for wanting some privacy."
"Yeah, me neither," Jesse agreed.
"He looked pretty good this morning," Rex noted.
"Yeah, he's definitely feeling better. I can tell because he kept complaining about needing a shave," Pitch simpered. "I told him I could get one of the sisters to do it, and he completely refused. When did he get so bashful?"
"He's always been that way," Jesse pointed out. "You just have a selective memory."
"Eh, maybe," Pitch conceded.
"He wasn't happy about the tat." This from Hardcase. "We told him he'll just need to get it redone."
"I'm sure he was thrilled about that," Sixer drawled. "I remember when you guys took him to get it the first time."
"Hey, the hair was our idea. The tattoo was his," Hardcase protested.
Rex unconsciously shook his head at the absurdity of their conversation and the way it made him feel at peace, at home with these men who comprised his family. He picked up the tankard Au-Ogusta had placed before him when they'd first arrived and took a swig of the now warm liquid. It definitely had lost something over the ensuing hours and was barely palatable.
He was considering going to get another one, but as he raised his eyes, he saw the Doma approaching through the crowd.
The rest of the clones saw her as well.
"Uh-oh," Sixer grinned wickedly. "You think she's coming to say that some of us are a little too wild on the dance floor?"
Rex blanched, taking him seriously. "Good grief! Who's out-of-line?"
"Oh—no one, Sir," Sixer replied. "I was kidding." A pause. "But Tip and Double Barrel are certainly putting on a show."
"Oh no, no, no," Rex moaned. "I don't need trouble."
It was clear the Doma was taking a direct line to the captain, and this brought smiles of anticipation from his troops.
"I think trouble is headed your way, Captain," Jesse remarked. "She's coming straight towards you."
"All of you, just—just be on your best behavior," Rex ordered. He cleared his throat and got to his feet as the Doma came and stood in front of him.
"Captain," she greeted him with a tilt of her head.
"Doma."
"Are you and your men enjoying yourselves?" she inquired.
"Yes, very much," Rex replied with all the good manners he'd been taught to exhibit among civilian populations – and certainly more than he'd shown since coming to the Monastica. The Doma's reproach on his lack of manners was still fresh in his mind . . . and so were the stirrings that he'd felt the day before, even greater now after the conversation with her in the botanical garden last night.
"I see many of your men are dancing," Maree noted.
"I hope they're not getting too carried away," Rex preemptively apologized.
"Not at all," she replied. "But I think it is time you joined them." She held out her hand.
Rex felt his throat tighten.
"Fek and all, this isn't what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to come over here and complain about my men being out of control!"
He was in a predicament now, for he knew the eyes of his men were upon him, waiting to see what he would do. Not only that, but he could also feel the eyes of the other revelers turned in his direction – or more accurately, in the Doma's direction, watching her exchange with the leader of the clone troopers.
"Oh, I, uh, I'm honored, Doma, but . . . but I don't know how to dance like you do here," he made his excuse.
"If your men can learn, so can you."
Damn!
"Yes, but you know, I'm still pretty sore from reinjuring my ribs and—"
"We can hold you up, Captain."
This interruption from Sixer brought a scathing glare from the captain; but it might have been the first time such an expression failed to elicit the desired reaction, for Rex could see right away that every clone present was on Sixer's side.
Sixer didn't even flinch. "I mean, if it's that bad, Captain, we can make sure you don't keel over—"
"Stop," Rex said flatly. He was not going to win this one without embarrassing or offending the Doma. "If I'm going to do this, I can handle it myself. I don't want to feel like I'm dancing with my own men."
He accepted her hand and as they walked into milling throng of dancers, he shook his head and spoke in a rueful voice. "I don't know why my men feel like they need to humiliate me in public."
"I don't think that was their intention at all," Maree deferred. She turned to face him, and they assumed a classic waltz stance, even though the music was not a waltz at all. Rex didn't recognize the style, and he wasn't very focused on it, either. He was more concerned with not making a fool of himself.
"Well, it sure felt that way," he grumbled.
"I think they'd do anything for you," Maree stated, adding playfully, "Maybe even teach you how to dance."
"Hey, don't give me a hard time about this," Rex protested. "I told you I didn't know how to do this kind of dancing."
The Doma looked up at him with an expression he could not decipher. There was an element of fondness, maybe even some sympathy for his discomfort; but that was not all. Rex had never seen such a look directed at him before, and he was at a loss to understand it.
It wasn't possible—it couldn't be possible that . . . that the Doma had the same feelings towards him that he was experiencing towards her.
"I think there is very little you cannot do, once you decide it's worth your while, Captain," Maree asserted.
Rex decided a little boastfulness was permissible. "That's true. I make it a point to try and be the best in every area where I might need to lead my men."
Maree could not pass up the chance to tease him. "Such as dancing?"
Rex grinned. "By the time the night is over, I'll be better than all of them put together."
"Bold prediction from the man who had to be humiliated into standing up with me," the Doma shot back.
Rex turned the topic. "If I had known everyone was going to be staring at us the whole time, I would have found a way to politely refuse."
At this, Maree laughed heartily. "Do not try to pretend, even for one second, that you don't enjoy the attention!"
"Sure, but that's not the same as feeling as if I'm on display," Rex countered.
"You would make a good display."
Rex was not sure what to make of this remark, but Maree continued on without prompting.
"The perfect example of the perfect soldier."
"Ah, well, I like that." He paused. "But it still makes me feel a little strange to have all these people staring at me."
"In all fairness, they're staring at me probably as much or more than they're staring at you," the Doma explained. "You see, they've seen me dance many times . . . but never with someone like you. I've always danced with the brothers or the beginners or residents of the Wayward Houses. You—like your men—are new and exciting." She leaned close and lowered her voice. "The young girls . . . they are all waiting to see if the gallant captain steals their Doma's heart." She laughed quietly. "They are silly, romantic things, these young girls."
Rex suddenly felt very much more in command than he had since coming to the Monastica, and he wasn't sure why. "But they know that you—the Sisters—you can't fall in love. They know that, don't they?"
Maree looked at him with surprise. "Is that the impression we have given you?"
"Well . . . yes," he answered bluntly. "You don't get married, you don't have—you're celibate. I assumed, then, that you avoided falling in love."
"I believe falling in love would be impossible to avoid, if it is meant to be," Maree replied. "In what capacity a lover chooses to act upon that love is another matter altogether." A pause. "These girls have not yet realized that there are more facets to love than the romantic, physical aspects that they dream about."
Rex was intrigued by her words. "I guess, as a clone, I never gave it much thought. Women don't play much of a role in our lives. We notice them, of course, but . . . the pace of the battle doesn't give us much time to do more than that." He looked at her curiously. "So, you aren't worried what people might think when they see you dancing with me?" He added quickly, "And by the way, I like the sound of gallant captain. Not sure it really fits, but I like it."
The Doma gazed at him, thinking that he might have just become the most gallant man—captain or otherwise—she had ever met. "It fits," she said. A pause. "And no, I'm not worried."
Some additional remarks. I do love the scene with Echo and Yusani. It's one of my favorites and written especially for a friend of mine who has a beautiful Downs Syndrome little girl. The minuet they dance to is Bauernmenuett (Peasant's Minuet), and again, if you can find it online, it's worth a listen - so pretty. I also like that Kix "kicks" them out of his room! And the "gallant captain" . . . he's a bit cocky but so much fun!