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Rex had definitely not been the only one who had gone soft and mushy when Mara had first stepped out of the hut she had grown up in, clad in freshly painted beskar armour in gold, blue, and gray. The golden sunburst above her visor had been the first thing that Rex had noticed, rising from her visor like the sun on a horizon (and doesn’t that make Rex feel uncharacteristically poetic) and definitely inspired by Cody’s own characteristic design. Beyond that, lining her chest piece, pauldrons, vambraces, and knee guards had been stripes of their colours, marking her as one of them.
Rex hadn’t been as pleased when he noted that she hadn’t added anything beyond the bare basics, the protective part of himself that had always writhed anytime Skywalker and Tano, but mainly Ahsoka, had stepped onto the field with only their soft jetii clothes to protect them, reared its ugly head once more. But he had to accept that Mara hadn’t grown up used to the weight of protective armour like he and his brothers had, it would only weigh her down in a fight - not to mention that Mara still tended to lean towards a jetii’s fighting style than that of the vod’e.
As it is, the months following his vod’ad’s birthday is spent coming and going from Tatooine, taking Mara out on quick runs in their shuttle to get her used to exiting and entering atmospheres. Rex is immensely proud of his niece; she may not have the same natural leadership skills that Cody had seemingly been decanted with, or Ben’s casual charisma that had been both a blessing and a curse during the Wars, but she’s quick witted and smart. She has the strength genetically engineered into all the clones, but not the muscle mass or size to make full use of it, so she leans towards her strength, her enhanced speed and thought process, her connection to the Force pushing her even further.
They’re ready to move on from Tatooine, their supplies replenished and ship in perfect working order, and they’re only waiting for Ben - who seems to be waiting for something else, probably some sort of crazy Force stuff that would make Rex’s head hurt if he tried to understand it.
This particular morning, Rex had decided to have a little fun; Gregor and Wolffe had spent the night at the shuttle, running through some flight plans and checking that there hadn’t been any Imps sniffing around, so it had just been him and Cody’s family spread through the hut. Cody himself leaves before the sun comes up, his near-silent movements waking both Obi-Wan and Rex as he sets out to Mos Eisley to collect payment for his last few mechanic jobs, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he goes, so Rex suspects that their lift off day is approaching. His sister, on the other hand, ducks into the cellar, leaving Rex in the hut with a sleeping Mara.
And as any great ba’vodu would, Rex decides to have a little fun.
He slips into the room his niece called her own, grinning at the lump curled under her thin sheets, a curly mass of red hair just peeking out from the corner of the blanket. Following Ben’s lessons, the blond clone gathers himself mentally, narrowing his focus in on Mara’s unsuspecting form, and pushes .
“Haar’chak!” His vod’ad jerks awake with a startled curse, and Rex can’t hold back his laugh as her green-gold eyes immediately hone in on him, hair a frizzy mess around her head where her braid had fallen apart in her sleep and drool caked on the corners of chapped lips, her face red and patterned where it had pressed against her pillows. She blinks once, twice, and her squinting stare turns into a rather impressive glare that Rex knows for sure she picked up from Wolffe.
Rex smirks, slow and sure in the same way he had once done to scare shinies shabless before training, “Good morning, vod’ad.” He drawls, and Mara throws him his own thunderous scowl, and Stars isn’t he proud of that .
“Copaani mirshmure’cye, mir’sheb?”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Mar’ika?” He teases, and the teenager makes a rude gesture. “Not a morning person, kiddo?” He already knows the answer, of course - his little vod’ad hates mornings with the burning passion of a thousand stars - but it’s still so fun watching the desire for blood enter her eyes.
Stars, he hadn’t had this much fun since he pranked Kix and blamed it on Fives.
“Usen’ye!” Rex expertly dodges a pillow thrown at him by an invisible hand, the ease of experience in his movement.
“No can do, vaar’ika.” He shoots back, “Cody and Ben are out, that means I’m your Captain until a higher rank arrives and relieves me of my command.”
“Liar!” Mara growls, “Màthair is in the cellar.”
“And she’s meditating, you sure you wanna join her?”
And that simple statement is what gets Mara moving, buckling up her armour and trudging out of the hunt to join him for some earlier morning sparring; her pout quickly dissolves into a determined snarl as they trade blows. The verd’ika is fast and vicious, but Rex has years of experience and a greater body mass, so they’re pretty evenly matched, and Mara’s rate of growth and ability to adapt never fails to impress him. She goes for where it will hurt the most, and Rex is damn proud of that as he dodges a haymaker to the groin.
The suns have risen above the horizon and Rex has once again gotten his squirming niece in a headlock once again, the both of them panting and covered in sweat and sand - not a fun combination - but satisfied in the outcome of their spar, when Mara stills, attention moving towards the dunes. Her eyes narrow, lips pursing, and she taps on Rex’s bicep. He lets go immediately, because Rex learned long ago that weird Force shab shouldn’t be ignored, and Mara stands, a frown on her face.
“A threat?” Rex asks, hand going to his pistol, but Mara shakes her head.
“No, just a di’kut.” She grumbles, and Rex categorizes the stiffness of her shoulders as petulance and annoyance. “Luke lives on the other side of the canyon. Sithspit, looks like his uncle is with him.” Mara sighs, slanting a look towards him, “Owen Lars is a sheb - just a warning.” She doesn’t bother brushing off any of the sand coating her beskar, just straightens and lopes back towards the hut, and Rex huffs out a faint laugh and follows.
Within moments of reaching the front of the hut, Rex is able to hear the sound of an approaching speeder, the rusty old thing appearing over the dunes as it sped towards them, and while he may not be able to sense emotions like Mara or Obi-Wan can, he’s a master at reading body languages; his niece may be tense, but she’s making no move towards her own weapons - and Ben has yet to make an appearance - so Rex takes his hand off of his blaster and watches the speeder approach. He lets himself study the two human males in the speeder, one older with gray hair, the other young and scrawny and very blond - something about the boy is familiar, the way he holds himself, his expression, his colouring.
At his side, Mara grumbles something under her breath in Stewjoni, before straightening out of her slouch and uncrossing her arms as the speeder slows to a stop.
“Good morning, Mister Lars.” She greets politely, then her eyes narrow on the boy, who stares back with wide blue eyes. “Luke.”
“Mara,” Lars returns, voice stiff and expression strained, “You’re growing into a lovely young woman.”
“Thank you,” Mara offers the man a small smile, “This is my uncle, Rex.” The man’s dark blue eyes turn to Rex, and he watches as Lars’ expression twists slightly in a way he recognizes as disgust - it’s the same expression people used to give him and his brothers, the revulsion that came with seeing a clone, something not actually a human - something lesser. So Rex does nothing but keep his expression carefully shuttered, and inclines his head in greeting.
“...Hey, Mara.” The boy says awkwardly, blue eyes large and earnest, and Rex twitches slightly - Stars, the boy is so familiar, but he just can’t put his finger on it. “It’s… good to see you again?”
Mara is stiff for a moment, before letting out a faint sigh, and relaxing. “You too.”
“We’re here to see the-” Luke sends his uncle a disapproving stare ( Stars dammit he’s seen that expression before ) and the older man huffs, “Your mother.” The man corrects, “Is she here?”
“Yes, would you like me to go fetch her?” Mara asks like Obi-Wan didn’t already know the two of them were on her land, and Lars nods. His niece smiles politely, and slips into the hut, leaving Rex alone with a man who hated clones and the boy who reminds him of ghosts.
Familiar sky blue eyes meet his own, and the boy, Luke, smiles at him. “Hi, it’s Rex, right?”
“Yeah,” Rex greets awkwardly, studying the boys face more closely, and -
“My name is Luke”
Kriff.
Kriff, he knows that face. He knows that smile - it’s Senator Amidala’s smile set in General Skywalker’s face, softened by youth and lacking the tension and anger that had always seemed to stiffen his general’s expressions during the War.
“Luke Skywalker.”
This is his general’s son.