Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Anakin had not been invited to the Council meeting where the clones were discussed.
First of all because he wasn't a Master of the Council - he wasn't even a knight, yet, but just a Padawan, one probably hated by several members of the Order to make the situation worse.
Furthermore, when the funerals were held for all the Jedi fallen in that filthy arena as soon as they returned from Geonosis and the remaining masters gathered to discuss the events of those last days, Anakin was passed out in the Halls of Healing, without an arm and with one hell of a concussion.

He didn't know anything about the clones- until a week later.

Obi-Wan sat down heavily in the chair next to Anakin, and put his head in his hands, elbows on their table, amid the mess of wires and mechanical parts as Anakin was busy making  the final modifications to his cybernetic arm. Anakin didn't look up – but it wasn't necessary, because their bond throbbed with stress and controlled anger and fear.

The new hand jerked randomly, grabbing onto something that wasn't there, and Anakin cursed under his breath before connecting the last wire that should have ensured him complete control, connecting his nerves (already connected to the metal stomp by a padawan healer - too bad, it would have been cool to do it himself) to the thin and incredibly resistant mechanical ligaments of the fingers.
The only thing that had stopped him from adding further modifications (like a flamethrower, as Quinlan had recommended) had been Obi-Wan's stern voice.

Obi-Wan, who was now having a crisis in their living room.

  It had been a long time since he felt similar emotions from their bond.
(Except for Geonosis, of course, but no matter how much time passed Anakin still felt like everything had happened just yesterday and not weeks ago.)
  Anakin remembered all those times that he'd followed one of his irresponsible plans (which he recognized as irresponsible only after a few years in order to be able to say that he "had grown up since then" and enjoy his Master's irritation) and his fear had touched their bond.

Obi-Wan usually let those emotions flow into the threads that linked them in the Force while he berated him, perhaps to make him feel even more guilty.
(Too many times he had wondered if his Master really felt what he was communicating, or if he was subtly manipulating him to make him believe he knew what he was feeling. Anakin would have liked to know his Master as much as his Master knew him .)

This time he did not release those negative and dangerous emotions into the Force, but said in a tense voice, "Anakin, we need to talk".

Needless to say, Anakin's first instinct was to deny.
Stopping for a second to think, what could he have done? He had spent two days resting, after which he had immersed himself in working on the cybernetic hand in a desperate attempt not to think about everything that was happening, and he couldn't have possibly given Obi-Wan any reason to be angry.
Was it for Padme? He couldn't have found out after a week. It wasn't strange that Padmé had come to see him twice, they were friends after all.
He hadn't even added the flamethrower to the prosthetic, so what did he want?

(Thinking about it even further, what could he have ever done that could have caused such turmoil in the soul of his composed Master?)

"What happened?" he rolled the mechanical wrist and squeezed it between his flesh fingers, the metal quickly heating to the same temperature as his body, adapting – designed not to overheat and cause the stomp to infect.

"We need to talk about this war, my padawan" Obi-Wan's grave voice would have silenced an entire room full of drunken senators "And the clones."

He had thought about clones. Who were they?
Where did they come from? How long had the Republic been raising an army?
On Geonosis he had been too busy, but he remembered all the sudden lifeforms that had touched the Force. They had seemed too young to him – but they were grown men and he knew it, so why wasn't their presence older than his own?

And the war.

"Aayla told me that the Senate's gonna incorporate the Order into the GAR, is that true?"

Obi-Wan sighed and raised his head to look at Anakin with tired eyes "Yes, Anakin. Masters and Knights will be made Generals, we will be assigned a battalion to lead and you Padawans will be made Commanders. The Senate believes that as peacekeepers our help is crucial to maintaining it."

Anakin imagined himself going to war. Being the Commander of an army.
Afterwards, he imagined the tiny initiates about to enter in their padawanship age, becoming commanders and going to war.

"The Senate believes? They can't force us to go to war, can they? What do we Jedi know about war?"

"We serve the Republic, Anakin, it's our duty. And- I honestly don't know."
Yes, they can.

"In a month we should all have taken our places. Given my greater experience" and the bitter tone reminded Anakin of that evening in which Obi-Wan had satisfied his curiosity to a minimum, explaining to him that when he was a young padawan he had left the Order to fight a civil war on an Outer Rim planet with blank eyes and the face of someone who didn't want to talk about it - not to a twelve year old and still questioning Anakin "I was assigned to the 7th Sky Corps, Anakin, a total of almost 37 thousand soldiers."

“Wow, how can you take care of so many soldiers by yourself?”

"I will not be alone. The GAR has informed us of our future roles, and our second in command. Anakin, something terrible will happen."

Obi-Wan was sure of it, and Anakin almost unconsciously straightened his back, his muscles twitching in alert.
"How?"

"The clones, Anakin. My Commander, a most interesting man, has been introduced as unit CC-2224."
If Anakin felt his blood run cold and a thousand questions forming on his lips, Obi-Wan didn't care, and he moved on.
"The Order is horrified, Anakin, and so am I. They're making us the Generals of an army of slaves, slaves in all but paper - and there is no other way to describe them, Anakin ."

The fingers of the cybernetic hand twitched.
His meat ones as much as those.

"How?"

And Obi-Wan talked.

And Anakin understood why so many horrible emotions painted the Force in those days, why the scar on his chest (that strip of skin that had hidden a bomb capable of blowing him up just for wanting freedom) burned and hurt, because every Master he met had failed to completely hide behind a mask of peace and calm.

He only truly understood it when he found himself in front of that sea of individuals identical in appearance but so different in the Force, and was called Commander for the first time by the slaves of the Republic.

⸻

Anakin didn't know why the Commander hated him – maybe because he could read his mind and had heard all the names Anakin gave him.
That morning, for example, he had had a particularly Leru expression, and Anakin had called him Leru in his mind all day.

He had never called him that loudly, because Anakin was sure that clones had names. He had asked a confused Obi-Wan why if they had names they showed up with those... numbers (the mere thought of calling one of those people CT-8640 made him sick to his stomach and filled his veins with anger), and his Master had smiled at him, simply telling him that "If they don't want to share them with us, they are free not to."

At least they were free to do something.

The only time he called him one of those names out loud the Commander was fortunately not there, but only Obi-Wan and a soldier who had brought them the reports of their second campaign were present - a soldier who had remained impassive upon hearing the Commander being called Fleneb, but whose presence in the Force had been filled first with surprise, then with disbelief, and finally with amusement so intense that Anakin wondered how he hadn't laughed.

(That soldier, Jesse, told him his name a month later.)

Anakin knew nothing about war. He didn't know how to run an army - and as much as it embarrassed him, he was mature enough to point it out.
He learned a lot in his first month with the 7th Sky Corps, especially the 212th (the soldiers they interacted with six times out of seven), because as much as Obi-Wan seemed contrite at the idea he would be knighted in a few months and get a legion of his own- but there was a reason why he usually acted as a diversion or took the more reckless roles.

(He wasn't good at following orders, but if he did the wrong thing, not only would he risk dying, but also all those people forced to serve with him.
As much as they had been forced to lead that army, every Jedi could leave the Order whenever he wanted, while those clones were considered traitors to the Republic if they even thought of deserting.)

He met Captain CT-7567 precisely because of his great ability to complete the most reckless assignments.

⸻

Anakin loved droids.
In that exact moment he hated them.
Or rather, he was trembling with the desire to reprogram those piles of junk. Padme would have hated them, but they could have helped him so much in his repairs.

(For years Anakin had been responsible for repairing the Temple ships, which belonged to the Jedi and could be used when needed with authorization. At the beginning many didn't trust him, and many still didn't, but Anakin wasn't so stupid as to make, shall we say, vaguely illegal modifications to ships that were checked periodically. Not anymore at least. He had learned and grown.)

Their intel was completely wrong, and they found themselves with half of the 212th in the mud, facing off against Separatist forces that outnumbered them four to one.

Anakin was fine, except for a hit that had grazed him on the calf, and Obi-Wan was still going on with a dislocated shoulder but put back into its socket without a groan.
Those who didn't make it were the at least thirty-six lives Anakin had felt snuffed out, their presences blending with the force around them and losing their light. He had lost count.

"Master, I'd say it's time to use one of my plans" his voice could barely be heard, even though he was shouting, but both Obi-Wan and the Commander turned towards him like lightning. Unsettling.

"Commander, I believe it is-"
"An excellent idea, Anakin. Your plans are extreme, but I believe this is an extreme situation."

"General, with all due respect, the Commander cannot risk his life, we can-"
"And let more soldiers die? I won't die, Commander, don't underestimate me too much."
He tried to grin, but they both gave him a deadpan look.

"Maybe let us hear your plan first, Anakin."

That was the hard part.

"Commander, no."
"Indeed Anakin, that's not a very good idea. And you'll need someone to help you, and I can't leave the men."

Follow him behind the Separatist lines to blow up their shields and half their forces from within without possibly getting shot.
But Obi-wan was right, he needed someone to transport all that explosive and take as little time as possible.

"There must be someone crazy enough to follow me, right?"

Anakin knew there was someone. Obi-Wan had already accepted that this would happen, but he didn't hide the twinge of anxiety in their bond. Anakin did his best to send as much reassurance as he could, and smiled briefly at his Master.

The Commander was fiddling with his comm, and even though Anakin couldn't see it on his face, concern and a tiredness that was more mental than physical had managed to leak through his excellent shields.
(Anakin had been grateful that all the clones knew how to build a basic but secure shield at first, but he had hated their existence after finding out that they had been taught how to hid themselves so that the Jedi wouldn't be distracted by their pain and death on the battlefield.)

The Commander's voice rang out firmly "Come behind the lines, now."
"What? You know I'm in a bit of a situation, right?"
The trooper who answered had a deep voice like that of all the clones, but lighter and younger than Cody's, and behind it the loud sound of gunshots could be heard. If the three of them had stepped back to decide what to do, that clone was still under enemy fire. He seemed decidedly irritated by that call - strange, because the Commander seemed to scare everyone.
"Retreat, you'll join Commander Skywalker on a mission behind enemy lines. You have one minute to arrive, Captain."

"Yessir."

The clone who, after forty seconds maximum, practically threw himself behind the enormous natural boulder they were using as cover had his armor filthy and covered by mud, and was not wearing a helmet. His face was also dirty, and Anakin felt so sorry for him that he almost cried - he surely would have cried if all that mud had gotten in his hair.
The thing that almost made him recoil was the way the Force surrounded him.

The signature that Anakin loved most in the world was Padmé's. Padmé was an indestructible rock, the sharp edge of the coast continually hit by the waves of the sea but never bending to them even though they're capable of eroding it, strong and sure as she rose above the rest of the world and lives.

Obi-Wan's was a close second, because Obi-Wan was pure calm.
Like lying in a isolated field, just you and yourself, hit by the warm rays of the sun, bathed by light rain, hit by delicate wind, occasionally colored by emotions that his Master decided not to hide.

  What was in front of him seemed like peace in war.
He remembered Naboo's Lake country.
The soft grass ended and the water began, the wind could be strong and could be just breeze weakly hitting you, the sun was warm without burning like it did on Tatooine, the water was plentiful and seemed to never end.
Anakin felt as if he were standing in front of one of those lakes again, the wind moving his hair, the freezing water against his bare feet, the sun touching his exposed skin, hundreds of stimuli bombarding him and hold him in a familiar and warm embrace.
Whoever that soldier was Anakin suddenly became sure that he would recognize him with his eyes closed.

"General, Commanders."

He saluted them perfectly, nodded to the Commander with eyes that quickly scanned both Jedi, and Anakin noticed that the armor that should have covered his right side was practically gone.

“Captain, what happened to your armor and helmet?” the Commander's voice was stiff as always, but from the way he beamed with relief they must have known each other. Obi-Wan noticed, because he stared at the two like a thirsty man looking for water.

(If there was one thing he had noticed it was his Master's complete and endless curiosity towards their Commander, who had excellent shields and rarely let the slightest emotion show. The only time he had seen him be honest it was the first time Anakin proposed one of his efficient and- for them crazy ideas and the man's face contorted in a strange expression making Obi-Wan laugh like a mad man.)

"Yes sir, it blew up, fortunately without me in it. A mine, sir. What was I called for?"
His eyes moved to Anakin, looked him up and down, pausing for a second on the torn fabric of his trousers where he had been wounded and returned to the Commander.
"Commander Skywalker must infiltrate behind enemy lines, blow up their shield generator and thus much of their forces. Willing to assist him, soldier?"

The clone frowned, and turned to look at Anakin again for a second. Then, surprising everyone (Obi-Wan was surprised and couldn't hide it) he nodded with conviction with a firm "Let's do it."

For a second Anakin thought about asking him if he was sure, but stopped himself before doing it.
The lake had become agitated, and the air filled with birds, and the colors became more vivid. A voracious glint flashed through the clone's eyes.

Truth is he had asked for a crazy soldier.

"Perfect" he then exclaimed "Let's go get enough explosives to send them back home."

They did so, and when after a few hours they found themselves in the Negotiator's med-bay their CMO forced them to rest there for the night.

Anakin discovered that that soldier had accompanied him in that reckless action with little chance of success, carried more than fifteen pounds of explosives on his shoulders and ran away in time without being discovered with his right arm covered in burns.
Which had gotten worse over time.

And a blaster shot in the leg.

Anakin was no better.

When the CMO left them alone Anakin looked at him, and at that moment the soldier took a wet cloth and wiped it over his face, removing a thin layer of dirt that revealed dark skin and a straight nose crossed by a thin cut, the nose bridge large and so well married with the rest of his face, dark eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes. A face younger than the Commander's one, the features round and soft but a hardness in his expression that was typical of all clones.

(Anakin had looked at Master Koon with wide eyes the first time he had explained to him how the oldest clones were ten years old, because they had been injected with very strong hormones from an early age that had accelerated their growth- physically and mentally.
Later he would discover that the Captain was nine years old, therefore a physical and mental age of around twenty. The mental age of a soldier trained and raised for war.)

He ran it across his neck, where a thin scar ran from under his chin to his Adam's apple, and a series of bruises spread beneath the white bandages.
The medic had stripped him of his armor and the top part of the black clothing that every clone wore, bandaging the entire right side of his torso and ribs- because surprise surprise, he had a broken rib too!

He ran it through his hair, and Anakin had to take a second look when he saw the first thin strands of blonde hair.
Hair cut so short as to almost not be there, so in contrast with the dark complexion, light almost as if they were bleached, so different from the dark blond of Anakin himself - but Anakin was more than certain that no hair dye was being smuggled between the GAR soldier (it should have, though).

When he was finally cleaned up, the Captain let out a sigh of relief, and lay down on his bed. Or at least he tried, because at the last second he met Anakin's eyes, Anakin who had been staring at him for five minutes because he couldn't help himself- and he froze, warm brown eyes in Anakin's blue ones, a color almost like gold around the pupil.
Immediately he got up, remaining half sitting, his arms resting on the bed and his strong biceps tensing and- what the hell was he doing?

"Sir?"
He looked back up at his face, finding only curiosity and something he didn't recognize.
(He would later discover Rex had been afraid.)

"Your hair," he managed to say, and he cursed herself for doing it "It's blond."
The Captain remained calm, but a slight panic and anger set in. Anakin frowned.
"Yes, Commander. A genetic accident, but it will not affect my performance in any way, sir."
"What?" Anakin spat out, and began to shake his head feeling the nervousness rising "No, I know! I just- well, I mean, they are... pretty?"

The sheer confusion on the soldier's face made him want to bang his head against the wall. Holy Force, what was he doing?
"I mean it looks good on you. The hair. Blond. I mean."
And they suited him, really. Anakin couldn't picture him with anything but light hair – though that should have been easy, since all the other clones had the same face and dark hair. But the fact remained that to have had them any other way would have been extraordinarily out of place.

"Yes, sir" Anakin hoped he understood it was a compliment "Do you need anything?"
"You did well today," he continued, and a voice similar to Padme's laughed at him in his mind, "I wouldn't mind doing it again."

The Captain smiled at him, a honest but small smile "What, throwing ourselves into the arms of death?"

(Rex was exhausted and pumped full of cheap painkillers that did more to make him stupid than pain-free.)

Anakin felt an identical smile rise on his lips. It was the first time one of the clones had smiled at him. This one had a beautiful smile.
“Don't we already do this every day?”

"I guess so," he snorted and lay back down, tired and letting out a low curse when his shoulder made contact with the bed.

Anakin stared at him for a few more seconds, before speaking again.
"What's your name?"

"CT-7567, sir" CT-7567 turned to him, and perhaps Anakin was worse than he thought at hiding the disappointment on his face at the sound of the identification code, because the lake stirred again and the Captain made another small smile "Rex."

The pure happiness that washed over him would have been perceivable even to the least Force-sensitive being in the galaxy.

That evening he fell asleep, promising himself to tell Padmé everything about what had happened at the first opportunity.
Rex.
A beautiful name, perfect for someone like Rex.
(His mind remained still on him, and the Force listened quiet like never before.)

⸻

When they returned to Coruscant after a month Anakin knew he would face the Trials, in order to become a knight.

He became a Knight.
His bond with Obi-Wan, which they had decided not to sever yet (because both were aware that without the war Anakin would have remained a padawan for another year or two, and if they had to continually risk their lives from opposite corners of the Galaxy staying tied wouldn't have been a bad move), had shone with pride, and the smile on his Master's face when he cut off his braid was something he would never be able to forget.

Aayla took him drinking that night, and Anakin destroyed himself.

The next day he discussed with his now ex-Master, Master Yoda and Windu his future as a General.
It was Obi-Wan who proposed a whole new battalion, under the 7th Sky Corps, specialized in Anakin's specialty, those frontal assault that he so loved.
And no, not because he didn't know how to do anything else, he had continued after seeing Anakin's glare, but because he was reckless enough to lead one at the first opportunity and good enough at organizing one by now.

Shortly afterwards he went to visit Padmé (his girlfriend. He had one hell of a girlfriend now. Wasn't it great?) and complained about himself.

"And then I interrupted him by saying I wanted Rex in my company- and Windu gave me one of his dirty looks, you know what I mean, and-"
“You mentioned this Rex several times,” Padmé interrupted, gently pulling a lock of his hair (he could finally grow his hair, he'd been waiting to do so for years) “I know it's important to you that he told you his name."

"It is, believe me" Anakin breathed a tired sigh "There are so many of them, and they call themselves by numbers, as if they were objects. I heard one of them jokingly tell another not to hit him too hard because the Republic had paid too much for him. A person, Padmé. I'm glad they have names, even if they don't tell it to us."

And he felt Padmé's anger, familiar and light but strong as a raging torrent.
"You should hear them in the Senate" she spoke in a harsh voice "They talk about defective units, price drops, new orders, as if the ones dying every day just because the Republic is incapable of fighting its own battles aren't people. But tell me about your Rex."

Anakin started to speak, and didn't stop.

He talked about Rex's short blond hair, his nose, his skin, his voice, his eyes, with the familiar squeeze of his girlfriend's arms around his shoulders, her hands in his hair, her mouth that occasionally left warm kisses against his neck and bare shoulders.

"You have to meet him," he finished, smiling at Padmé. She smiled back at him and nodded happily, and they wasted the day relaxing and loving each other, aware that the opportunities would become fewer and fewer every day.

⸻

"Hey, Rex!" Anakin hurriedly ran after him, paying little attention to those who stopped to watch him – half the space-port, actually.
Master Koon's legion was leaving at the same time as the 212th, and Anakin knew that the next day he would be leaving on his first campaign as a general.
He still had to tell Rex about his request and ask him if he was okay with being transferred with a number of elite units.

Rex was talking to a 104th's clone in maroon-painted armor, but he whirled around when he heard his name practically shouted. His eyes widened when he saw Anakin running towards him, and the clone next to him (identical to Cody except for the wicked scar, with a much more agitated and less controlled presence - Plo's Commander) followed Rex's gaze surprised.

"Rex!"

“Command- Excuse me, General?”

Anakin stopped in front of them and smiled, giving himself a second to touch with his fingertips the controlled surface of that lake before returning to the present.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

"Of course sir" Rex nodded and the Commander left after saying goodbye and giving him a confused look, his presence tensing with Rex's. Rex was confused.

"So Rex, do you know I'm leaving with the 501st tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir. Congratulations for your promotion."

"Would you like to come with me? I mean, I talked to Obi-Wan about it and he asked the Commander - who as much as he hates me agreed - to bring a small number of units of the 212th with me. I asked Jesse and he says he's more than happy with it, but what do you think?"

A week after that mission with Rex Anakin had asked him for help understanding one of the Commander's more elaborate plans, and the soldier who had practically cried laughing in the Force when Anakin had called the Commander (Cody, because he had told Anakin that that was his name after the seventh time he and Rex had managed to save half the legion with their reckless plans- thank the Force since Anakin had run out of names to use) one of those random names ended up sitting next to them.
A campaign had just ended and Rex had lit a fire dozens had settled around, and Anakin sat next to the Captain as they talked.

When Anakin saw that soldier he exclaimed a loud "It's you!" and the look the two clones had exchanged had confused him "Do you want to join us?"
"Ah, what are you doing sir?"
"Rex's explaining to me what the hell Commander Cody came up with today. I missed a bit when I got shot."

Jesse had told him his name after laughing particularly hard at Anakin's pouting confusion, and Anakin had ignored the constant twinge of fear and anxiety in the soldiers in favor of amusement.

     Anakin remembered the first months at the temple, when he was too afraid to even ask if he could eat something. He remembered Obi-Wan's badly hidden sadness, when he still hadn't understood that Anakin could see it in his face and didn't need the Force to read people (not when it had made him survive so long), every time Anakin smiled widely at the opportunity to be able to take a shower a day, eat three meals, have so many clean clothes, have such a comfortable bed.

He remembered the fear he felt just seeing other Jedi.

But he also remembered Obi-Wan's safe, warm hand holding his, giving him the courage, warmth, and security that flowed into their new bond.
Quinlan's stories and constant gesticulating and the way he knew how to make him laugh, the podracing videos he showed him and commented on together, ignoring Obi-Wan's amused disapproval.
He remembered, years later, the kindness of countless Masters, who had understood his difficulties and had helped him as they could.
He remembered being afraid, and he remembered how he had stopped feeling that violent fear. If he could talk to his soldiers without them feeling it, he would be happy.

Jesse had helped them quite a bit, and Anakin had enjoyed spending time with Jesse and Rex.

When he asked Jesse if he wanted to join the 501st, Jesse agreed with a resounding "Hell yes!".

Rex remained motionless for a few seconds staring at him. His hair was slightly longer than normal, and Anakin knew he would shave it again one of these days. It would have been nice to see how he looked with a longer hairstyle. Who knew if he had wavy hair like Padmé, straight like Obi-Wan, or curly like one of his mother's friends had.

"If you want me to, sir" Rex spoke without further hesitation, but he was cautious and defensive "of course."

"No no, only if you want to. You seem close to Commander Cody, if you want to stay with him that's more than fine, but I still wanted to ask you. I know I'll have a Commander, but I'd like it if you were there. But only if you want to, of course. It's not an order."
Eventually he found himself almost breathless, as if on a razor's edge, staggering as he tried to regain his balance - in this case, trying to understand what was going through the other man's head.

Rex would probably have accepted, if not because he wanted it then probably because he'd perceived it as an order.

(The first time the Chancellor had asked him if he wanted to dine with him he had accepted believing that it was an order.
A lot of people had preferred to pretend that they were not talking to a slave, back then. It was hard to understand who was honest and who was hiding the worst.)

"Of course, sir, if the Commander and the general agreed. Shall we leave tomorrow?"

But Anakin had time. He would earn Rex's trust, and ask him again with the fear no longer there to ruin every sweet word, and Rex would decide whether to stay with him or return to the 212th.
  Anakin had time, and he had patience.

"At 0700, on time. But I think punctuality will be more my problem."
"I thought you would get used to waking up early after all this time, sir."
He joked but did so cautiously, as if testing the waters. The clones did it often. They wanted to understand what they were allowed after seeing how relaxed the Jedi were about everything, probably.
Anakin didn't mind. He was an ace at testing the waters, and so was Rex.
"I've been waking up early for years," he nodded thoughtfully. On Tatooine he woke up when the first sun rose, but the time at the Temple had made him appreciate the vice of sleep. "Doesn't mean I like it."
(And interrupting a night of good sleep the few times the nightmares didn't wake him before dawn was more than irritating.) 

Rex shrugged – he seemed like the type of person who woke up too early to be normal.
(Rex had a lot of nightmares too, but every clone had them. Dreams they never remembered, and Jesse had joked that The Nightmare was a defection every clone had no matter the DNA sample, and Anakin had laughed at the time- he had only had two hours of sleep in three days.)

"Then see you tomorrow, I'll send the last docs to your personal comm!" he could see the other's raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, and immediately continued with a huff "I know what I'm doing. I won't confuse the forms again."
“Better not ask for more grenades accidentally.”
"Why can't I just put 'armor' on the form instead of one of those crazy codes? And it was a mistake, okay? They were useful in the end."

He had time.

⸻

Only months later Anakin asked him.

They had landed on a Mid Rim planet to offer humanitarian services to the local population, whose supplies had been cut off by a separatist blockade on the trade route they used to get everything off-planet.
It was a planet that Anakin had never been to, and one that he cared little about. It was mostly rocks, with small patches of thick vegetation that Ahsoka had ventured into with Fives and Echo, chased by an enthusiastic Jesse and an exhausted Kix.

When Jesse had seen his batchmate again (Anakin didn't even know what that meant) he had been more than happy, and as much as Kix scared him Anakin adored him too.
Kix didn't like getting dragged into other people's bullshit - like Jesse's plan to have Ahsoka hunt down some crazy animal and "embrace her predatory instincts".

Rex had ignored them, and Anakin had done the same.

Many other soldiers decided to walk around, others returned to the village for a while and spent the evening there. Anakin was too tired to even think about it.

He dropped down next to Rex, intent on handling some plates of his armor in hands accustomed to doing so, a thin brush dipped in 501st blue paint that moved slowly on the cleaned plastoid.

It wasn't the first time Anakin watched as he painted the armor with confidence and delicacy, but it was the second.

The first one had been a mistake, more than anything else. Anakin had gone to look for Rex, he had followed that very familiar presence until he reached one of the barracks where the clones slept, and had knocked on the closed door. The clone who had opened it for him remained speechless for a second, looking at him, confused, before spitting out nervously.
"What happened sir?"
Anakin smiled calmly at him "Nothing Cal, I just need to leave some datapads with the Captain. Can I come in for a second?"

Cal had moved, as if dazed, and Anakin had walked down the corridor in front of him, flanked by the soldiers' bunks - half occupied, and the soldiers who saw him didn't have time to greet him properly before Anakin had passed them.
It was a personal place for sure, he would've left in minutes- but he really had to get those requests to Rex.

Rex was sitting on his bed, the entire upper part of his armor at his feet, one of his shoulder pads and a thin brush in his hands. As Anakin approached him he saw him dip it in the small bucket he had nearby, the bristles soaked in blue paint, and begin to pass it over the piece of plastoid with care and precision - he almost felt guilty for interrupting.

He had called him, keeping his voice low, having seen several troopers asleep in positions that couldn't have been comfortable in any world (one was lying on his back, perfectly straight, another one half out of their bunk, one a step away from falling, one so curled on themselves that they looked like a loth-cat), but Rex raised his head anyway in a lightning-fast movement. He jumped up to greet him before Anakin could stop him, and his brush slipped from his fingers in his haste. The only thing that stopped him from landing on the thin sheets was Anakin's outstretched hand, which stopped it in mid-air and brought it back to Rex's hand in one fast move.

"General" Rex's voice was still hoarse from the nasty blow to the neck he had taken, and heavy dark circles marked his face, but as alarmed as he was at the sight of him he was fine.

"Hey Rex, I had to bring you this pad, you need to review some files" he returned his eyes to the armor polished and ready to be repainted "But if you're busy we can keep Master Yoda waiting, he won't even notice."

"No, no" Rex put away the brush "Thanks for bringing them to me."

"Of course."

Anakin stared at him for a second longer before running away. Not his best moment.
(If the next morning Fives asked him confused what had happened because he had "seen him running away as if General Kenobi was chasing him," Anakin ignored the question.)

This time the brush, even smaller than the other, was intent on going over the lines around the visor. Rex was sitting on the grass, illuminated by the sun.
Although there were only a few hours left until night, the sky was still bright, tinged with shades of blue, red and gold, but Anakin had read that the planet's moon reflected the light of the sun in an almost singular way, to the point that darkness was never really on that planet - except for a few hours just before dawn.

With the constant battles of the last few weeks no one had had time to care about themselves, and Anakin had never been more grateful for the fact that he didn't have the ability to grow a beard - Fives' always perfect goatee had been ruined and the ARC wouldn't stop pointing it out and complain.
Like that, in the light, he could see how light hair covered Rex's chin and cheeks almost imperceptibly, and he knew the Captain would get rid of it as soon as he could. He felt like running his hands over his cheek to feel the stiffness of the thin hair that was always shaved off, and he mentally hit himself.

Rex's hair was longer than ever before, a few inches in total of ash blonde hair.
(Echo had won a bet with his twin, who had declared that the Captain's hair was dyed.)
The sun was good on him, but not as good as the wind.

Ahsoka would look at him like only she could, screaming with huge eyes "what's wrong with you", but Rex liked the wind, and sometimes Rex's presence was a tornado impossible to stop.

The warm light cast the shadow of his nose on his soft cheeks, making the dark circles under his eyes somewhat darker and the concentration that shone in his eyes more intense.

Anakin used the light as best he could, and pulled out the set of screwdrivers and spare parts for his prosthetic that he carried everywhere after the first time it got blown up. Ugly experience.

With a whoosh of air his hand literally fell into his meat one, disconnecting from the rest of his cybernetic arm so he could check the wires and fluid as he did at the end of each campaign.

Anakin didn't hate his hand.
He was ashamed of it sometimes, because few shared his enthusiasm at the idea of making whole limbs out of pieces of metal, and many had looked at that cybernetic as something to be wary of - which was why he often wore gloves - and why the stupid advertisements to promoted the GAR (which somehow the Order always managed to assign to him) sometimes just gave him two meat hands.

Obi-Wan had held it with kindness and care when he had managed to finish it, and had told him that it was a job worthy of his mechanical abilities.
  The Temple technician who had checked it to approve it had complimented the quality of the result - and Anakin had been happy about it, because he was proud of every one of his projects.

Padme was the only person he had actually talked to about it. She had taken his metal fingers, clasped them between hers and kissed them one by one, an open smile on her beautiful face and warm eyes trained on his, always ready to remind him that no part of him could have been disgusting.
If, when Anakin kissed the woman with abandon and enjoyed the familiar weight of her moving above him he ended up moving that metal limb as far away from her as possible, Padmé didn't hesitate to take it, bring it to her cheek, to her waist, to leave dark bruises and fiery traces. Making him hate that huge failure a little less.

The first time the 501st's boys had seen the entire prosthetic was a month after its actual creation.

Rex had agreed to a friendly confrontation with Anakin, who had quickly put aside all the useless layers he wore as per protocol, remaining with his entire arms exposed, the point where the scarred skin met the metal visible to all.
The Captain had looked critically at the limb, and had raised his eyebrows almost worriedly.
"I hope it doesn't do anything like throw flames, General."
Jesse had exclaimed "Hope you'll get cooked brother" but Anakin quickly shook his head. Jesse had muttered something under his breath, seriously annoyed, but Rex had simply gotten into position.

(It ended fifteen minutes later, with Anakin lying on the floor of the training room with one of Rex's knees stuck in the middle of his back, his arms pinned behind his back. Rex was too strong for him without using the Force- but there was a reason he was a Jedi, right?)

The first time one of their own ended up without an arm Anakin considered him lucky, because it was rare for soldiers to survive similar wounds.

Not everyone was lucky enough to lose their arm to a lightsaber – it hurt, kriff if it hurt, but it didn't make you bleed to death on the ground. Their new medic, newly arrived from Kamino, was helping a comrade when he found himself without a hand because of a landmine, and the two nights the clone spent in a bacta tank Anakin worked.

  Anakin took him and Kix aside and showed them the new hand.
Hand (ironic) was a doctor, and obviously needed both hands. Anakin was just helping him out. Similar to his own but safer, that wouldn't need frequent checks, just one every month or two, temporary until they returned to Coruscant where Anakin had more materials and tools.

There was a reason their casualties count was among the lowest in the GAR - not sending away every soldier with missing limbs helped a lot. Anakin made the most of the fact that the clones had all identical measurements, and that building prosthetics was something extremely interesting.
It wasn't easy, but even the small number they could save had immense value.
The first time Obi-Wan had seen his works (works later decorated and personalized, like everything else. Anakin had almost choked the first time Jesse had shown him that enormous and absurd tattoo) he had been surprised, but the pride in their bond was honest and deep like few other times.

He was never ashamed of himself around them.

He fiddled with metal ligaments, answered curious questions, did not hide.

 There was something peaceful about standing there in silence, one painting his armor, the other fixing his cybernetic arm.

Padme would have loved this planet, and she would have been beautiful at sunset – Anakin knew it. To this day he was amazed every time he realized how beautiful Padmé truly was.

He turned his gaze to Rex, who was now re-drawing those familiar symbols over his visor.

"What are those?"

Rex didn't look up, busy finishing the detail of the one on the right.
"Jaig eyes, sir."

"Please don't call me sir. I'm too tired to be called sir. What's its meaning?"

Rex paused for a second, but resumed soon after. A light gust of wind moved his hair, showing the ends that were starting to curl.
"For the Mandalorians they are a symbol of honor. One of my trainers on Kamino painted them on my helmet after Geonosis."

“Were you on Geonosis when this mess started?”

"Yes. I had it better than most," he glanced pointedly at Anakin's flesh hand working to re-screw a missing piece. Anakin couldn't help but smile.

For a while there was silence.

The bond with Ahsoka pulsed with fun and joy, and at one point he heard someone's victorious scream coming from the forest. Nobody paid much attention to it.
He touched the increasingly calm presences of the clones around him, Kix's happy one, Jesse and Fives' pure chaos, Echo's more contained but equally strong amuse, but in the end he always went back to Rex. That had finished re-painting the armor, and put it to dry nearby.

The Captain handed him a ration and Anakin finished it without much thought. He lay down, the other sat a meter away. He immersed himself in that agitated lake, the impetuous wind, the pleasant heat.

"When I arrived at the Temple I was nine, and I didn't know how to be free. I wasn't able to distinguish questions from orders, because for me they'd always been the same thing. Only the Force knows how long it took me to understand and become able of choose. If I asked you again now whether to stay with the 212th or join the 501st, what would you say?"

He kept his eyes fixed on the sky above him. There were no clouds, just a gradually darker sky and small stars that became visible. Came from the forest another scream, and the sound of heavy laughter. A small lizard-like animal walked among them.

Months had passed, the war had been going on for a year now, and Anakin had known Rex for just as long. He had been patient.

Only the other day Rex had looked him in the eyes impassively, after Anakin had eaten a strange insect on the planet they had just landed on (why was it strange if they didn't hurt him? Many species ate insects, Anakin used to eat insects as a child, and had never felt bad because of them. Core prejudices) and had called him in a clipped but seriously loud voice a "big di'kut." Did he know what that meant exactly? No, but he'd spent enough time with Torrent Company to know it was an insult.

Rex usually agreed with his plans, but if he thought he was screwing up he was honest and didn't hesitate to say so. Rex had the uncanny ability to calm him down when Anakin was unable to release his anger. Rex invited him to dine with them in the mess hall, and Anakin ate alongside people who were extremely loud but who welcomed him and Ahsoka with open arms.

"I would make the same choice again."

Anakin was happy.

He missed Padme, every muscle in him ached, a war was in full swing, but he was happy lying like this on the ground with Rex.

A few seconds later Ahsoka re-emerged from the trees, her clothes stained with blood and red drops still dripping from her dark lips opened in a huge smile, and soon after Echo and Fives followed her, holding up together some kind of large hairless bear.

Together with Ahsoka, with Jesse's loud and excited voice in his ears accompanied by the chatter of the people he risked dying with every day and Rex by his side, he was happy.

⸻

Captain Rex's nervous figure might have looked out of place in her living room, but it wasn't.

The 501st was on Coruscant, and they would stay there for a few days. Padmé had proposed to Anakin to invite Rex to dinner with them, to get to meet him in a context that was not strictly about life and death.
To say that Anakin was nervous was an understatement.

Anakin had told her that ever since they had met he had known how he felt about her. Even during the years they'd spent apart from each other, as much as he'd had the occasional teenage crush (the story of the one on Quinlan Vos was the most hilarious one Anakin had ever told her), Anakin had never forgotten her- and meeting again had only increased what had been there for years.

Anakin had said he understood that the first time they met, and had seen the pendant he had carved for her in her personal jewelry box, along with her grandmother's gold and coral hair clip and the set of bracelets and necklaces that her mother had gifted her when she became queen as she had been more than fourty years before. Simple wood kept safe with such treasures.

He said he knew he was more than lost when she told him in a serious voice that that "piece of wood" was a treasure among treasures.

(Padmé discovered the meaning behind it, behind those carved symbols and the shape of the pendant itself, and never stopped wearing it around her neck.)

As sure as Anakin had been of his feelings for her, the situation with Rex amused her immensely.

Padmé had met Captain Rex two or three times, always in her role as Senator. His armor was slightly different from that of the rest of the clones, and was painted in the blue color that later became characteristic of the 501st. Anakin had told her that "he has blond hair, Padmé, it's really beautiful!" and she had seen it, but she he would have liked to see his face clearly when neither of them was in danger of dying from a virus designed to destroy Naboo.

She knew a lot about him.
She knew he was incredibly formal when necessary, but that as he got used to Anakin's presence he had a dry but hilarious humor that often ended up insulting half the people he talked about. She knew that he was a good older brother (and if it didn't break her heart that that army forced to fight considered every clone their sibling) and that he was extremely kind to the shinies– and extremely strict when necessary, still. She knew that he was the only person capable of keeping up with Anakin's absurd plans – now encouraged by an enthusiastic Ahsoka.

She knew that Anakin could describe his face in a thousand different ways, and that his boyfriend had an enormous crush on the Captain.

The Captain hadn't had time to change his armor, because Anakin had only remembered to ask him if he wanted to have dinner with them when they had landed on the planet.

Anakin had disappeared into their bedroom. He had practically run off under the pretense of getting some clothes for Rex to change into without listening to the clone's quick "Don't worry-".

And he had left him alone with Padmé.
Without meaning to, because not even Anakin was that stupid.
But he was nervous and she understood it – it was the first time Rex had eaten anything other than GAR standard rations (and Ahsoka's horrible raw meat ones).

Surprisingly, it was Rex who broke the silence.
“Senator, could I ask you a question?”
"Of course Captain, but call me Padmé, at least tonight" she smiled at him and saw his stance relax slightly.
"Of course. I know it's a private matter, but-"
"We invited you to dinner in our secret apartment, Rex, there are few things we can call too private."

It managed to make him laugh, a deep and short but sincere laugh and so different from the ones she heard echoing through the corridors of the Senate, and took off his helmet.
The small smile he wore on his face somehow managed to move his entire face, softening the few sharp lines inherited from Jango Fett and creating little creases around his dark eyes. And yes, the contrast between his dark skin and the very light hair was more than delicious.

"I was convinced that the relationship between you and the General was a secret affair, and, forgive me, but I... am of the opinion that inviting me to eat with you in your secret apartment is not the best move to keep it that way."

This time it was Padmé who laughed at the Captain's dry but gentle tone, and she shook her head slightly.
"It is, but Anakin think of you as a friend, and he trusts you with us."
Rex shrugged "If he ordered me not to talk about it with anyone everything would be solved. Your secret's safe with me."
Padmé felt her smile turn into a grimace and spoke in the kindest tone she could muster "There are no army ranks in here. I'm not a senator, he's not a General, you're not a captain. And" he continued, glancing quickly down the hallway where Anakin had disappeared "I think he would rather be kicked out of the Order than order you to do anything even remotely unrelated to some war strategy."

Rex's grip on his helmet tightened, his knuckles white as marble.
"Even if he didn't order me to, I have no reason to tell anyone. War is difficult, and one has to take advantage of all the peace one can find."
Padmé wondered if Rex felt the same way about himself, if he had some peace in all that suffering, but she couldn't find anything to say. It was rare that someone managed to leave her speechless, and to do it had been a soldier brought into the world and trained for war all his life, who was able to understand peace in a way that not even those who had lived with it for all their lives could.

"Here they are! They might be a little long, I'm definitely taller than you, but they should fit."

When Rex excused himself and went to change Anakin took the opportunity to hug her and leave an affectionate kiss on her mouth, smiling at her adoringly as only he could, ignoring C-3PO's chatter.
"Everything ok?" he asked with a frown, running a thumb between her eyebrows, and she instinctively relaxed against him, letting out a sigh.
She wanted to tell him many things.
They deserved better. They deserved a life that wasn't that. They deserved to belong to themselves. They deserved to be able to find their peace.

"I'm glad you invited him."
Anakin knew her, and knew there was something else behind her words, but he didn't ask more from her.

He squeezed her one last time before parting and turning towards the opening bathroom door.

Anakin was definitely an idiot.

Rex had left his armor in the room next to the bedroom Anakin used to train when he stopped by, and his chest was squeezed tight by Anakin's tunic that, though it was long at the sleeves, seemed on the verge of ripping open and give in on the man's back. Or his biceps. Or his chest.
"A little long, sir."
The leg situation was better, but Padmé still wondered how he could walk so comfortably in them when even she would have struggled with all that tightness.

She immediately stepped forward to take the man's arm and distract him from the fact that Anakin was still staring shamelessly at his arms, herself trying not to let her gaze fall to the dark fabric of Anakin's pants (which she knew were the largest he had ) which seemed to be tailor-made hugging Rex's legs, and took him to the round table where they sat together.

Anakin smiled as he only did in those rooms, free and without restrains, excited as he encouraged his friend to try dish after dish, hyper-analyzing his every reaction with a serious "I have the Force and I sense your lies" that he had used when Rex he had pretended to like the ormachek, and Padmé had burst out laughing at the sheer exhaustion and annoyance on the Captain's face when he looked at Anakin.

Talking was easy.

Rex seemed interested in everything.

He listened to Anakin's rant about the new speeder that had arrived at the Temple whose photos Aayla Secura had sent him, and he nodded at the right moments, making him speak patiently but not out of obligation.
He asked Padmé questions about the Senate, and extremely well hid annoyed grimaces at hearing the latest nonsense shouted by his esteemed colleagues.
No one would have pointed this out if it hadn't been for Anakin, who put a hand on his shoulder and nodded "I hate half the people she works with too, you'll get used to it" and Padmé had huffed before going off on a tangent telling him that no, he couldn't insult all of his colleagues, no, he couldn't convince Padmé to find some kind of company better suited for her superior intellect, no, he wasn't going to play pranks on her highly esteemed and honorable colleagues.

Rex listened to her even then.

It was pleasant.

Anakin listened to her, but didn't care much about the Senate - he hated almost every politician and with good reasons too.
Rex had just as many reasons to hate them and seemed to do it just as much, but he asked questions, nodded and denied, gave his opinion on some short matter.

When it was time to leave, several hours later and feeling drowsy probably because of the wine, Padmé asked him if he wanted to stay and sleep in their second room - but Rex shook his head apologetically. He had to "go back to the others to prevent them from causing any disaster", but at least she managed to write down his comm number.

"Invite him again, I'm begging you."

"He stole my place as number one in your heart only in one evening?"

Padmé snorted and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulkder "Of course, love. But I think I'm not the only one, right?"
She ignored Anakin's confusion and kissed him, just wanting to fall asleep in their bed with the person she loved by his side.

⸻

When Padmé saw an opportunity to spend time with Rex again the next month she grabbed it without further questions, and with the excuse of "the Guard is so busy!" she managed to request Rex and some soldiers from the 501st to accompany her on a diplomatic mission.
When Anakin proposed to come too, she very politely kicked him out- she wanted to get to know her fiancé's second in command better (the idea that Anakin was her kriffing fiancé made her cry with happiness), not spend a week watching him flirt with said second in command without knowing he was doing it.

Sabé had laughed until she felt sick when she told her, and assured Padmé that if she hadn't been stranded on Naboo she would have come with her just to meet this infamous Rex.
Even her father knew who Rex was by now.

She also wanted to talk to him about the bill she intended to present to her esteemed colleagues as soon as possible, hoping that the war would end as soon as possible, and she was more comfortable talking about it with someone she knew on a minimal personal level than with someone (like the authoritarian Commander of the Guard) whose name she didn't even know.
Besides, she really wanted to get to know Rex.

She knew so little about him, and she found herself extremely curious.
Her mind had worked on all the information Anakin had given her, on what she had been told that evening, on what she had seen, but she didn't know a lot.
She wanted to know a lot.

Anesir was a planet covered by lakes and large salt seas, inhabited by homonymous semi-humanoid beings covered in transparent scales that protected them more than any armor, a planet Padmé had never visited before. With the blow the war had given to their trade they were considering an alliance with the Separatists, and Padmé would come to discuss their choice by offering them better alternatives to joining Dooku's circle.

She didn't expect too many problems, but usually it was just when she was convinced there would be no problems that said problems ruined her day, so she wouldn't gamble too much with her life.

That morning she had met the Captain at the Senate docks, and he had greeted her along with the three soldiers who accompanied him.
Only when they entered their transport did Padmé allow herself to smile warmly and ask him how he was feeling.

Rex took off his helmet and held it on his legs, tilting his head to the side. All the armor was clean, not as battered as he had last seen it, and it brought a smile to her face to think of the attention he'd given it.
"As good as it can be, Senator."
"I'm glad you're here, Rex. Sorry for my rudeness" she turned to the other three soldiers "thank you for being here today, and I sincerely hope there will be no problems during the negotiations. I'm Padmé Amidala, and you...?"
"I'm Tup."
All three of them looked young, younger than Rex who looked no older than twenty-five.

Anakin had explained to her that at that point of their development the accelerated growth slowed down, but it still brought a strange expression to his face, aware as he was that the Kaminoans had worked hard to make them understand that the clones were useless for everything if not war, to them. They probably wouldn't even reach fifty.
(If they didn't die first - much more likely.)
Padmé had researched cloning throughout the history of the Republic. Cloned people, used for whatever one wanted or as simple companions, for easy labor, who were made impossible to communicate and express themselves. A warm body incapable of being a person.

Reading the reports Padmé had almost hysterically wondered why they had created these people to die and gave them the ability to feel and suffer.
The never ending chances to see their choices and their freedom taken away from them. To love what little they had so fervently and lose that too - or live in constant fear of losing it.

"CT-5397" if Tup had longer hair than regulations and smiled at her almost excitedly the other was like the clones shown on Kaminoan propaganda to encourage the Senate to vote in favor of a production increase.
She noticed the scowl Tup sent the soldier but Padmé said nothing about it, nodding respectfully and turning to the third.

"Tala"
Tala had hair shaved around the ears almost into a mohawk, and Padmé noticed that their eyes were slightly lighter than a normal clone's.

It was rare for a clone to give themselves a "natborn" name, as they put it. Anakin had told her that he had heard everything- some had even told him the story behind their choice, from the most tragic to the funniest.
Padmé frowned for a second, and the next she felt like hitting herself.

"I apologize, trooper. I ask for safety- and you must answer me only if you think it appropriate, but I know that your name is usually given to daughters, do you happen to prefer female pronouns?" at the panic that filled their faces (so veiled that only noticing it was difficult) she was fast to continue "Forgive me again, I don't mean to assume- but if it's the truth there's no need to worry, we live in a galaxy so large and diverse that there is no reason to deprive you of such a right."

'At least one' she thought bitterly – and from the look on Rex's face he must have thought so too.

The three clones looked at each other for a second in confusion, and Tala nodded, still slightly scared. The middle one shook his head slightly, but the same fear was in his eyes.

"Ah, thanks for telling me! I know it's not easy, but I trust your siblings and your Generals to understand, and I hope if you wish to you'll receive every kind of medical assistance if needed!"

She knew some things about gender transition, thanks to her sister- but not enough to be an expert. Luckily it wasn't something considered scandalous anymore, not like it used to be- but it definitely wouldn't be something acceptable for a clone. She made a mental note to send some material to Anakin and tell him to share it with anyone who needed it.

“I- thank you, Senator.”
"Of course, trooper."

(It was like talking to Ahsoka. So young. So huggable. So dear. The urge to hug her when Padmé saw her nodding embarrassed and red-faced.)

“What can you tell us about the mission, Senator?”

  She turned her attention to Rex again, but there was something strange in his face, and not even Padmé could figure out what it was.

She prayed she would have a chance to talk to him.

⸻

The evening went well. They ate in a large hall, Padmé talked and talked and talked, Tala and Rex remained at her side most of the time while Tup and his brother stood at the entrance along with the prince's guards.

She managed to convince them both to try some of the strangest foods offered in the buffet, and did not hold back his affectionate smiles at Tala's incredulity at all those dishes so different from the rations - while Rex remained more calm about it.

The quarters that they had given them for the single night they would spend there (if the evening had served Padmé to talk with the queens of the planet and tell them that the Republic was there for them, the next morning there would have been real negotiations- she was already tired) were connected. All three led into a common room. One for Padme, one for the Captain and one for the soldiers.

It would be late night on Coruscant.

Padmé didn't sleep, but waited until she was alone with the Captain to cheerfully ask, "Would you like some tea, Captain?"

The man had shed his armor and remained in the clothes that all clones wore under the white plastoid, blacks with long zips on the side to remove it and tight as few other things Padmé had ever seen. The fabric had to be extremely elastic and durable, and she didn't stop from asking him about it.

If Rex was surprised by her curiosity he didn't show it and answered her while she made tea in the small kitchen. Fireproof, waterproof, pressure-resistant, and tear-resistant - it would (usually) be able to keep the melted plastoid from touching skin long enough for a doctor or a brother to help. 

Padmé placed the cup of tea in front of him and was pleased by the surprised expression he made at the taste of the brew. Padmé's favorite, which had been recommended to her by Obi-Wan years before, which she adored beyond measure and always carried with her. Anakin hated it, but Anakin had an aversion to tea and only drank it on special occasions.

(Tea was important like few other things to Anakin. It had been important to his mother and his culture, to his Master and his lineage, and to his wife. And it was important to him too, it couldn't not be.)

"I requested you" she began, thinking that the small talk had been enough, "to accompany me because I would have liked to talk to you. Without anyone else, and without Anakin."
He nodded at her, sipping with conviction. It was funny how much attention he put into just drinking a cup of tea.
"Anakin is one of the most passionate people I know, but politics will never be his strength."
"It's not mine either, ma'am."
"No, but it's a topic that requires the opinion of someone like you. Anakin adores you all, but he has nothing to do with it. Not really."

The man placed the cup on the table again, this time almost cautiously "What did you want to talk to me about, Senator?"

"Padmé, please. Since the existence of you and your brothers was made public and the situation was explained to us senators, I began to think about a possible legislative path, a bill to present in the Senate that would guarantee you and your brothers the rights you deserve as sentient beings."
She studied Rex with careful eyes, and saw the way his shoulders seemed to grow tenser under his clothes, and his face relaxed into an impassive expression.

The small terrace behind them faced the open sea, placid and moving slowly against rocky beaches. The room was lit by the blue lights hanging on the wall, and under the colored light the Captain's hair looked white. He wore that expression on his face again that Padmé didn't understand.

When he stood up in one somehow elegant but abrupt movement she was surprised, but stopped herself from getting startled.
"I have to- I'll be back- just a moment. Forgive me. Senator."

In a few steps he came out onto the terrace, and turned his back to her.

Rex didn't have the same tall figure as Anakin, only reaching a little above his shoulders, but where Anakin was smooth, soft muscles and long limbs Rex had the physique of someone raised to be like that.
The shadows on the clearing of his back widened and shifted, and the Captain leaned against the metal railing, probably tightening his grip as tight as possible, as the muscles on his arm contracted and moved with him.
  With so little light to illuminate him, surrounded by the sky and the dark sea with his bright white hair like a crown, he almost was a king.

Padmé gave him all the time he needed, finished her tea and stopped looking at him.

The sound of the waves was pleasant, and you could hear the laughter and loud voices of the few remaining on the beach at that hour. Padmé felt an unhealthy urge to go down there with them and feel the weight on her shoulders lessen a little.

When Rex sat down again he did so in a composed manner, betraying nothing of what he thought.

"I don't think it will be well received. Whatever you come up with."

Padme smiled. A bitter smile, which grew more and more often on her face when she thought of her esteemed colleagues and what they were capable of. What she herself could have been capable of only by wanting it.

"Of course it won't be. I can propose what I want, but with the war going on no one will ever agree with the idea of giving you a choice. And I know that no matter how hard I try I won't get much. But I have to believe, and hope" she took a breath moving her hand under the table, hiding that tremor that for years had bothered her when it was least appropriate "that something can be done. That there is a chance that things will improve. You and all your family deserve more than I can offer you, but in the meantime I will try."

Rex looked into her eyes, the same mysterious expression on his face. His hands were also hidden.
Padmé didn't need the Force to know that they were shaking just like hers.

"No one will want us to be recognized as people," he insisted, but his eyes shone with an intense light.
"They're not going to, because it would mean admitting that they've been practicing slavery, something that your Republic pretends to abhor but condones as long as it doesn't put it at risk. We're too human not to put your facade at risk."

Padmé knew it.

She had understood when she was fourteen, when with the weight of a planet on her shoulders she had walked the streets of Mos Espa curious about the culture of such a remote planet and had seen only pain.
When he had spoken to that kind child, and thought that even though he was too young to work, he must be helping a parent or a family friend - before the realization hit her and she understood that this child who in another universe could have been her little sister's friend was a slave.

When Master Jinn had bet Anakin's life to free him as if he had been a speeder.

When they had left and Shmi, that kind woman who had welcomed them and who was now giving up her son to ensure a better future for him, had remained behind with the chains of slavery still tightened around her neck.

When Ertae returned from Tatooine a year later, Shmi safe on a peaceful planet of her own choosing, a free choice for the first time after what seemed like ages—and Padmé had hugged her friend for a long time, two months spent on that planet enough to exhaust her.

When she had immersed herself in the Senate, seeing with her own eyes the wealth it shamelessly displayed when their planets suffered more and more.

 When she was just eighteen and still too naive, for the first time talking with those new esteemed colleagues, and she talked about "common good" and "fight against corruption" only to be treated like a fool. People she had admired from afar - who came to represent everything she despised.

She had known this when Anakin had first trained in front of her - without knowing it, because she had simply wanted to talk to him and had found him alone in a pair of baggy trousers repeating kata, during their time together on Naboo, and she had seen the series of circular tattoos surrounding a single tiny scar on his chest, overlapping geometric shapes and letters from an alphabet he didn't know.

When a short time later, passing her hands over the skin of his chest, she had felt the texture of the ink under his skin- and she had passed her lips over it, hearing Anakin's strangled breaths and breathy moans, and had promised to ask him what they meant.

When he had told her, and she had never stopped pouring all the love she had in her body on that symbol of freedom, on that tiny point from which the explosive chip that prevented him from being free had been removed and Anakin had escaped at night at fourteen years old, going three thousand levels below the surface of Coruscant to get tattooed with those symbols that to his native culture screamed "I am free, and I will always be free".

Padmé had realized how corrupt the government she served was years and years ago when she was no more than a child, and now that she was a grown woman she still couldn't desensitize herself to such cruelties.

"I will never be able to understand what you have been through. I don't pretend that I can, because I grew up loved and protected by a large and generous community. But if I can do something to help you, I will do it- giving everything I have."

(Wasn't that scary, realize just how much she was ready to sacrifice?)

She might never have understood what that look was on Rex's face, but she understood the small smile he was giving her.
"I'm glad you can't understand that, Senator. Someone so kind would never deserve it."

Padmé's smile was sincere, as she smiled less and less often.
"Do you think you can help me in this impossible and hopeless mission?"

The grin the man gave her back was hesitant but confident, a twinkle in his eyes similar to Anakin's when he was preparing to make one of his impossible to everyone moves. He was extremely beautiful.
"I'm pretty good at running impossible, hopeless missions, what's another one."

In her heart Padmé hoped it wouldn't be an impossible, hopeless mission. She really hoped so. Even only to see that same desire to live and fight for oneself that she could see in Rex's still young and tentatively hopeful face.