Dear Reader, thank you to my reviewers once again. This is just a short chapter to lead into part II, which I cheekily named, "In-Between" because it covers a bit of ground in between the stage-setting Part I and the culminating Part III. No action in this one, but I think the fans of Cody and Rex's friendship will appreciate this chapter. Enjoy! CS

PART II: In-Between

Chapter 41 The Journey to Kamino

"If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever."

-Saint Thomas Aquinas

The prevailing mood in the gunship was an odd one. There was a reticence that was not common to the group of men therein.

Anakin noticed it. Obi-wan noticed it.

Rex most certainly noticed it – in fact, he was a great contributor to it.

He watched without speaking as Fives, near the front of the troop bay, maneuvered purposefully into a position where Echo could not help but see him. And as Echo looked up, Fives nodded in a manner both inquiring and affirming. It was one squad mate's way of asking and confirming that his brother was alright.

Echo returned the nod with one of his own. While the parting with Yusani had clearly moved him, he was steady as always, if perhaps a bit downcast. Fives recognized this and was ready to ensure his only remaining squad mate did not dwell on sad good-byes.

Rex felt proud of them. They looked out for each other – sometimes to the abandonment of good sense, as had been witnessed on Pylotta when Fives had completely disregarded orders in order to stay with Echo. But setting aside such errors in judgment, the two had proven to be an incredible team. It amazed him just how . . . present they were to each other. When one was out-of-sorts or suffering, the other was always there to lend support, to take up the slack, to share the burden.

Having witnessed the last-second good-bye between Echo and Yusani and now Fives' unspoken understanding of the impact it was having on his brother, Rex found himself comparing that situation to his own.

He'd had to conceal his own good-bye, though not due to any constraints on his part. He could have walked out of the trees with Maree on his arm, with only some raised eyebrows to show for it and perhaps a reprimand for public display of affection. And yes, his men would probably have given him a hard time about it afterwards, but given that he wasn't free to stay behind with her, the sight of the two of them together would have been little more than a surprise, and soon forgotten as the conduct of war pushed the memory further and further into the past. General Skywalker might have had a word or two to say about it, but again . . . Rex had chosen duty, so the issue was over before it could even begin.

That's certainly how it would have appeared to Rex's companions. And he was content to let it be so, for he knew the real reason for hiding his feelings was out of consideration for Maree and her position. She might be allowed—even expected—to fall in love at some point; but she was forbidden from indulging the physical aspect of that love, and she'd done everything in her power not to give even the appearance of impropriety. Rex respected that, and because he loved her, he recognized and honored the necessity of keeping things . . . clean, for lack of a better word. For he had meant it when he'd said he did not want to be the man to come between her and her god.

"If you are willing and able to wait, I will be there when the wait is over."

She had spoken these words, and they had been exactly what Rex had needed to hear; and it occurred to him that over the short course of his life thus far, he had needed very little. He had never lacked for self-motivation when it came to wanting to be the best at every undertaking. He had never needed affirmation from his commanding officers, although it was certainly nice to hear. He had never needed encouragement—well, maybe once, and even that was questionable. The truth was that he was usually the one encouraging others. Perhaps the only thing he had ever really needed was the artificial barrier he had constructed to conceal from his men his emotional attachment to them. Without it, he likely would have turned into a sop, indecisive and pettifogged. And so might he have been, were it not for the only other need in his life, a need well-filled but only recently.

Rex's six weeks at ARC training roughly a year ago had done much to reinforce the qualities and habits that he had developed as a cadet and as a lieutenant in his first assignment before coming to the 501st. And it would not be untrue to say that not all of those qualities had been good ones. Rex had such a strong personality, overflowing with confidence and a competitive nature, that few of his fellow clones—or his trainers or even his first commander—had dared oppose or even question him. He'd never had the tempering influence of someone who was not intimidated by him. Others, knowing that they were dealing with a rare type—a man whose every word and move was calculated to bring about success in the quickest and most definitive manner possible—could not get close to him. And they had not tried. It wasn't a matter of dislike – no, not at all. The truth was that Rex, whether consciously or unconsciously, had long been keeping his brothers at arm's length for reasons he didn't have the courage to look into. But he'd done so in a relatively inoffensive manner. In fact, Rex, despite whatever shortfalls he might have displayed, had been well-liked everywhere he was known. He'd always been respected for his prowess, admired for his magnanimous spirit. He'd been warm and engaging at the same time as being a braggart and a dare-devil. Yet, he'd somehow found himself occupying the highest pedestal—not against his will, mind you—and that lofty height had seemed predestined to have him as its sole occupant. No one dared knock him off or nudge him over to share the peak.

Until ARC training.

And then, it seemed as if everyone had been trying to drag him down from his lofty status, even as they grudgingly admitted that they could not help but like the brazen blonde fireball. Rex had accepted their challenges, knowing that the greatest honor was to be the top graduate, and there was no way he was going to hand that over to someone any less deserving than himself.

What he hadn't counted on, hadn't planned on—and still reflected upon with amazement and gratitude—was a clone officer every bit his opposite and yet the perfect complement to his every weakness and foible, his every strength and virtue.

Cody had been the voice that had run him down, chewed him out, and then known precisely what to say to ward off bitterness and grudge-holding. He'd been willing to tell him the things no one else would say. He'd shown him that there were more ways to gain victory than by brute strength or even cunning. He'd effectively humiliated him, been humiliated by him, and moved on without gloating or griping. He was the sort of man who recognized that not everyone wanted to be treated the same way, and he'd taken the time to get to know Rex well enough to understand what he was dealing with and how to best handle him.

He'd been the kind of friend that suited Rex perfectly.

If there were a god, he could not have fashioned a more suitable companion.

But now, it appeared he just might have. Not a companion to rival Cody, to be sure; Rex's attraction to Maree was, needless to say, of a completely different nature. But as with the commander, Rex recognized in Maree something he needed on a level he couldn't even understand; just as he had recognized that Cody had possessed an undefinable quality that had played a large part in shaping Rex into the officer he was today.

He glanced over to see the commander standing at General Kenobi's side, helmet tucked under his arm, looking every bit the professional that he was. And Rex knew—he knew—that his friend hadn't forgotten about their discussion on the way down. Leave it to Cody to know when something was bothering him; but it was also true that the commander understood the importance of privacy and discretion. He might inquire again. He might not.

Rex was not sure which he preferred. He and Cody were not like Echo and Fives. Neither of them had quite the dramatic edge; they did not immediately turn to each other when difficulties hit. But they were as connected as any two clones could be, and that was saying something since they had not come from the same batch.

A part of Rex thought it might be a good way to unburden himself if he were to tell Cody what had transpired on the planet. But the other—perhaps the greater—part told him that this was not the sort of thing men talked about. Not fighting men, at least.

Fighting men told stories about their conquests of the female populations—stories mostly fabricated, but entertaining nonetheless. They dreamed of what it might be like to sweep a woman off her feet. They fantasized about the ecstasy of an hour of love.

But through it all, they kept their feet firmly on the ground and their vision pointed straight ahead. Distractions were deadly. If the enemy didn't get you, then the Kaminoans' rehabilitation protocol would.

The ship landed in the Resolute's port bay. As the complement disembarked, Rex and Cody sidled up to their generals.

"We've got a strategy meeting at 0700 in CBR 4," Anakin announced. "You two need to be there."

"Yes, General."

"We'll be four standard days enroute to Kamino at light speed," Obi-wan stated. "Let's just hope the party doesn't start before we arrive."

"Do they have any idea when the Seppies are planning to launch their attack?" Cody asked.

"Wide-net scanning is keeping an eye out and an ear open for any indicators," Obi-wan replied. "But we can't afford to waste any time. We need to get there as soon as possible and bolster the planet's defenses. Right now, it looks like we're most likely to be the first Republic troops to arrive. We'll need to find a way to hold off the enemy until the other units get there."

"Now that we're off-planet, you can brief your troops on the mission," Anakin announced. "Tell your men in the 501st and the 212th, they're going home."

"Yes, Sir."

The two clone officers parted ways with their commanding generals.

"Sort of a bittersweet homecoming," Cody noted.

"Yeah," Rex agreed. "I guess it's no surprise the Separatists are going after Kamino. What does surprise me is that it's taken them this long to do it."

"Well, we both figured it was coming after the Rishi Station attack," Cody remarked. "They probably thought the station couldn't be brought back online very quickly and they'd have an easy way to slip past unnoticed." A wicked smile curled his lips. "They don't know our engineers and commo techs."

Rex returned the grin. "We'll have a nice little surprise waiting for them . . . if we get there before they do."

They walked towards the lift that would take them to the officers' quarters.

"It looks like we'll have both Ventress and Grievous to deal with," Cody stated. "That will be a new challenge for our men."

Rex made a peculiar expression. "I don't know which one I'd rather face."

"Neither of them are easy on the eyes," Cody rejoined, to which Rex chuckled and shook his head.

"I've been one slice away from being gutted by both of them," he said. "Commander Tano saved me against Grievous. Ventress . . . she's never been known to spare the lives of prisoners. Maybe she decided I might be of more use to them alive."

"I remember," Cody said. "After you told me what had happened, I remember being surprised that she let you live. You and a handful of others. She killed everyone else in that place. Truly, Rex, we've been lucky devils more times than I can count."

"We're too ornery to die," Rex grinned.

"You're too ornery to die," Cody pushed back with amusement. "I'm just lucky."

"Well, then send a little bit of that luck my way," Rex said.

Cody wondered if this comment might be an opening, but he should have known better; for in the next moment, Rex was onto a safe topic.

"It will be good to see Kamino again. You know, I've never understood why I would have such fond memories of such a . . . sterile place."

"The facilities may have been sterile, the Kaminoans may have been sterile, but we weren't," Cody answered. "No matter how uniform they tried to make us, we were all different. The bounty hunters who trained us – they were about as non-sterile as you could get, and they made things interesting. We made that place our home."

Rex smiled, a faint but genuine gleam. "It's strange to think that you and I didn't even know each other back then. We grew up probably without ever seeing each other."

"Not so strange," Cody deferred. "A place that big with that many clones."

"Yeah, but . . . I guess it just feels like . . . when I think back to Kamino, I think not back to those days. I think back to ARC training – the part of it we spent on Kamino, anyways. That's the Kamino that feels real to me, that stands out in my mind," Rex explained.

Cody was a bit surprised at the deepness of that idea.

"Well, I don't know what you were like growing up as a batcher, but I can say the reason you probably remember ARC training is because the whole program seemed to revolve around you—"

"Enhh, that's not true—"

"It is true, in the sense that you made the whole thing about you," Cody persisted. "Yes, you most certainly did." A pause. "And that's probably what made us such an outstanding class."

"You're always warning me about my ego," Rex pointed out. "Don't you think what you're saying will just give me an even bigger head?"

Cody replied right away with certainty. "You're the type who needs a big head. Don't ask me to explain. I just know that there's no such thing as a . . . meek Rex." He decided to test the opening with a somewhat sarcastic, "Is there?"

Not surprisingly, Rex balked at the very idea and slammed that door shut with a resounding thud.

"Are you trying to brown me off? Meek, my ass."

Cody smiled to himself. So much for openness between brothers. But then, he'd not expected any different from Rex. "Don't steam your armor," he quipped. "I'm just trying to force you to go back to the topic we hit on earlier, the one you didn't want to speak of in front of the troops." A pause and quirky smirk. "You thought I'd forgotten?"

"When do you ever forget anything?" Rex asked rhetorically. "Eh, it was nothing important."

"You sure?"

Rex deftly avoided a direct response. "We've got other more critical issues to deal with."

"Dodging again," Cody said silently. "Well, we've got four days to get ready to deal with them. It would be good if we walked into this briefing with some ideas of our own. You never know when they're going to ask for our input."

"Right."

"Meet you for breakfast at 0600? We can bounce ideas," Cody suggested.

"I think I'd rather get some rest," Rex replied, despite the fact that he'd just come from the longest sleep he'd ever indulged. "And don't look at me like that," he preempted. "You don't need to turn into a prying busybody old woman."

Cody stepped back and laughed. "Yeah, I think maybe you do need a bit more sleep."

Rex frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

Damn, but he still looked tired.

And dull.

And listless.

While he could never claim anything other than the insipid palor of a man who spent most of his life encased in armor, he had at least always prided himself on the fact that he looked healthy, vibrant, and ready-to-go. His blond hair had always set off his skin tone, making him appear darker-skinned than he really was, giving him a glow of vitality. But now, despite weeks in the desert sun and a noticeably darker hue, he simply felt like he was looking at a tired man whom he barely recognized.

The dream was ending—had ended, to be more accurate. He had only the memories now, and they would have to be enough.

He began stripping off his armor with the same sort of loving care that a father might show to a child, placing each piece carefully on the rack specially designed for just that purpose.

It really was cleaner now than it had been at any time since its issuance. That was nice. But it was also somewhat sad. Rex felt as if the past 20 months of war and its experiences, his close calls and narrow escapes—as well as a few direct hits—had been erased from the history book that was his armor, for the truth was that while the rest of the clones had upgraded to the newer versions of the armor, Rex had only upgraded his helmet. He continued to wear the first set of armor, patched and re-patched that he had entered active duty with.

He had taken a sort of vagabond pride in the battered outer shell, and its newfound cleanliness made him feel as if he were now bereft of the marks of his travails. The outward signs of his battles were gone – even if the inner recollections were etched in his mind.

He took a long, comforting look at the armor before heading for the shower.

One of the nicest features of these current Venator-class starships was their officer accommodations. As a clone first-in-command, Rex merited a private room with a private bath. Even his lower ranked officers only had to share two to a room. And the troops had 6-bed bay quarters, which were as nice as anything they'd had on Kamino.

Rex had heard that the new Victory-class ships that were scheduled to roll out of the shipyards in the near future were not nearly as spacious or private, owing to the necessity to fit more weaponry and defensive systems onboard. So there was something to be said about the vessel on which he was currently serving: The Resolute – it would be less lethal than its successor but more of a home – or at least, more comfortable – to its crew. And in a strange way, Rex preferred the present ship over the ship that was to come.

He was reminded of this as he stood in the shower with real water – real water – running hot and soothing over his skin. This was so superior to the sonic showers he'd endured on other ships and even on board this ship during times of shortage.

He stayed there for a long time, letting his thoughts wander—something he did not often do. His mind was usually going at the speed of light, focusing tightly on one topic at a time, but moving quickly from topic to topic, existing solely in the moment but always with a constant awareness of the past and an anticipation of the future.

That had changed during his time on Bertegad. It was not a change that had come on suddenly, but rather had slowly wended its way into his routine; and now he had to brush it off and return fully to the old routine. He needed to focus on one thing at a time again. In battle, his life—and the lives of others—depended on it.

And while he had certainly always had strong reasons for wanting to survive and win victory, he now had a new reason to add to the list.

He had someone to return to when the fighting was done.

Surely, the war would not go on forever. Surely, there would freedom for the clones to choose their own paths once victory was declared and peace won.

"General Skywalker would understand," Rex said in the silence of his thoughts. "Even if the Senate decides not to free us, the general would help me find a way to get back to her." It was then—for the first time—that a troubling truth suddenly occurred to him. "When the war is over, will I even still be with General Skywalker? Will they disband the clone army altogether? The Jedi will go back to their own lives. They won't be needed as officers anymore." There was so much uncertainty that his ability to anticipate the future in this instance was hopelessly clouded, but one thing stood out: he could not envision a military career that no longer involved General Skywalker. It struck him as odd, an indication that perhaps his loyalty had shifted from the Republic to his commanding officer. For a fleeting moment, he entertained the question of what he would do if General Skywalker were ever to leave the Army. "I'd go with him." A moment of consideration. "But he'd never leave the Army. I think he likes being a soldier more than he likes being a Jedi."

He turned off the water with a bit more force than was necessary, a sort of attempt to also put a halt to the flow of random thoughts cascading through his head. This was the very sort of unfocused musing that he had to put an end to. He had started off thinking of Maree, and she was the only person he wanted to think of at that moment.

He would find a way back to her. He would survive this war.

But even if he perished . . .

"I will be there when the wait is over. Whether it be in this life or the next."

. . . perhaps he could bring himself to believe in a next life.

Note: "Brown me off" means "Make me mad" and comes from an old WWII letter I have from a British soldier. In fact, a lot of the dialectic oddities you see in my writing come from a large batch of communications I have from members of the 250th Company of the Royal Army Service Corps in WWII. So, if the conversations seem somewhat old-fashioned, now you know why!