Chapter Text
The loss of orange hadn’t affected Rex’s ability to fight. That much was clear. Could it make identifying some of the 212th troopers harder with their buckets on? Sure. But he managed. Their armor patterns were distinct, and if that failed, he could always assign them to missions he wasn’t leading. And he’s not afraid of mixing original 104th men with them either. Their wolf-themed armor made them recognizable everywhere. Rex hated to admit it, but the Wolfpack looked karking cool.
His thoughts drifted into nonsensical corners, spiraling into distractions he didn’t know he had until a knock sounded at his door. He sighed, shifting his weight forward. It was not unusual for his night to be interrupted by sudden emergencies. That was part of his life. He would even feel surprised if there weren’t any. But so soon after their last mission? That wasn’t expected.
Their last operation to raid the Imperial outpost had taken its toll, especially on the rescued troopers. Many were still recovering, physically and emotionally, from the experiments inflicted upon them. Rex had been counting on a quiet night, for their sake, if not his own.
He sighed.
“Come in,” Rex called, his voice low. “Door’s not locked.”
The door slid open, spilling soft light into the dim quarters. Rex didn’t bother turning on the lights himself. Darkness was easier. It softened the world, and it muted the reminders of what he’d lost. A figure in dark armor stepped inside, their silhouette familiar.
It was Echo.
Rex moved to sit on the edge of his bunk, gesturing toward the lone chair for Echo to sit. Echo nodded in thanks, settling into the seat with a datapad in hand. Rex watched his expression. He knew Echo. Even after everything, Rex still could read him pretty well. His brother’s expression was tense, like he was carrying something heavy. He knew Echo’d got something important for him.
“What’s wrong?” Rex asked, cutting straight to the point.
Echo hesitated, his stoic facade faltering. He glanced at the datapad, then back at Rex. He hesitated briefly and decided to go on with whatever he had for his old Captain.
“I intercepted a message from the Imperial relay,” he began. “I thought you should hear it before we decide what to do with it.”
Rex frowned, leaning forward. He could tell from Echo’s tone this wasn’t routine intel.
“Go on.”
“It’s addressed to Rampart,”
Echo said carefully, stealing a glance at Rex.
“And it’s about Cody, Rex.”
The name hit like a punch to the gut. Cody. The name Rex had been avoiding, even in his thoughts. He’d known Cody was with the Empire, like most of their brothers. But now? His mind spun with possibilities. Redeployment? Decommission? …Death?
“What does it say?” Rex’s voice was brittle, betraying a crack in his usual armor. Echo didn’t comment on it.
“They’re requesting a replacement for his position.” Echo paused, watching Rex closely, “He went AWOL.”
Rex froze. “He what?”
Echo set the datapad on the desk, his left hand rubbing the edge of his scomp link subconsciously. “He’s gone, Rex. We might be able to find him.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Rex’s gaze dropped, catching on the dull gray at the center of Echo’s chest plate. That stripe would have been orange, a color Rex couldn’t see anymore. He forced himself to look away, fixing his eyes on the faint glow of the desk lamp instead.
“Who’s to say it’s not a setup?” Rex muttered, his voice tired with doubt. “Rampart could’ve had him killed and faked the message.”
“Rex—”
“I know, Echo. I know I should have hope. But we all know it’s better not to.”
Echo’s golden eyes softened as he studied his friend and sighed.
“At least have some in Cody, Rex. You know him. You still love him.”
The words hit their mark, piercing the defenses Rex had built around himself. He didn’t respond, his silence louder than any admission.
After a beat, Rex spoke, quieter this time.
“It’s been a long day, vod’ika. Get some rest.”
Echo’s gaze lingered on his captain for a moment, then nodded. He knew he should give Rex some time. He left the datapad on the desk softly and rose to leave, the door sliding shut behind him. Rex was alone in his small room again.
Rex stayed still for a long moment. He gave up control over his body and let gravity take him down into the mattress of his bunk. Not very soft, but still comfortable enough for a quiet sleep. He pulled up the threadbare blanket and closed his eyes, deciding that he would deal with whatever there were tomorrow. He needed the time to dwell in his little sad sentiment and live the pain.
He didn’t know how or when he fell asleep. He dreamed. He was younger and smaller. The drumming sound of Kaminoan rain floated into his ears, soothing his mind. Cody sat right next to them. Their body slumped together, shoulders brushing each other. Rex could feel the soft warmth that came from another body. Cody held a paintbrush in his hand. Its bristles were coated in orange.
“Think this’ll work?” Cody asked, tilting his head toward the fresh paint job on his armor. The orange streaks glinted in the light, warm and vibrant. His voice was gentle and soft and just so right to Rex’s ears.
Rex looked at the direction Cody was suggesting. The paint job looked neat and simplistic, just like Cody.
“Don’t see why not. It suits you.”
Cody chuckled, lightly but steadily, “I’ll take that as a compliment, Rex.”
The familiar sense of warmth radiated from inside his chest, making him want to smile. And he did, smiling alongside Cody’s soft laughter.
But as quickly as the simple happiness came, the orange faded to gray. Cody disappeared. The rainstorm on Kamino surrounded Rex.
He was alone again, in the rain of his home world that no longer existed.
Rex woke up with a start, the memory of Cody’s smile lingering. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He needed the answer. He needed to know why, both to the lost color and Cody’s AWOL.
If there was even a chance the message could lead him to Cody, he had to take it.