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Something heavy and bitter weighs down Rex's chest, festering like an infected wound. He shouldn't let it, he knows he shouldn't, especially since he keeps telling his men not to all the time. But he can't help it. This is.... too much for him to bear. He can't cope, and perhaps never will.
Skywalker's fallen to the Dark side... How did any of us miss this? How did none of us see? Not me, not General Kenobi, not Commander Tano... None of us saw it until it was too late. And now look at what's happened.
You failed him, a voice in his head that's not his own accuses him, You never saw the warning signs. He was like a brother to you, and you failed him. And now look at what he's done.
He bites into his knuckles to stifle a sob that threatens to work its way free of his throat. Closes his eyes, burrows into his blanket.
There's a knock at the door.
Rex flinches. "Go away," he snaps, but his voice cracks and betrays him.
Muffled footsteps, and then, a low voice. "Unlock the door, Rex." It sounds like one of his older vode, perhaps Cody or Wolffe, but it's softer, different, lacking the usual undercurrent of growl that's become commonplace among the men. "I'm here to help you."
"Leave me alone." His stomach curdles at the way he sounds like a frightened cadet all over again, and he curls in on himself. "I don't want to see anyone."
A sigh. "Rex, I understand that, but I don't want you to be alone right now. It's just me; none of your brothers are here."
Just me.
The words rattle around in his mind, and a moment later, he realizes that it's Jango on the other side of the door. It's... unexpected, and he doesn't know what to make of it. On the one hand, it's not one of his vode or Ahsoka, but on the other hand, the bounty hunter wouldn't understand what Rex is going through like they would.
So he won't let the man in. He'd rather be alone... Nobody can help him.
"Go away," he says again, snapping, a seething snarl, but there's pain lancing through it, something he can't hide.
A click, and then the door swishes open. The bounty hunter must have managed to unlock it, he realizes belatedly. Rex doesn't turn to look at Jango's silhouette in the doorway, doesn't glance over one shoulder as the man strides across the room towards him. He can't bring himself to care; not about anything, not now.
He's mourning, in pain, and it's turned him into a wounded animal that's backed into a corner. Leave him alone, or he'll bite.
Unfortunately, that's not working out so well.
Jango sits on the bed beside him, settles a hand onto his shoulder. Rex wants to cringe away from the touch, because it burns, it burns, and he wants to be left alone. But it's also warm and grounding and different to the touch of a vod, and he can't help himself but to lean into it.
"Talk to me," Jango implores gently.
Against his better wishes, the tale spills out from Rex, a summarization of his life, his purpose, his Jedi and what they meant to him. And when he tells of his discovery regarding his General's fate, he trips and stumbles over his words, struggles to get them out of his mouth. The entire time Jango's quiet, not judgemental, not encouraging, not hurrying him along, just quiet and there. Eventually he's done, tears burning hot and prickling in his eyes, but before he falls silent, he asks one thing.
"Who am I anymore? Who are any of us... my brothers and I... who are we, anymore?"
His voice is nothing but a rough, hoarse whisper now, and he's so tired, oh so tired. He can't sleep, though; he knows he can't, because every time he closes his eyes, General Skywalker's proud face flashes to the forefront of his mind. And all he can think is how sorry he is that he never knew his beloved Jedi, his brother, was slipping away from them all.
Rex shivers and finally looks at the bounty hunter, sees his own face reflected back at him, sees the tiredness and the sadness, and wonders.
"You are my ad'ika," Jango says softly, and the hand that's on Rex's shoulder curls, squeezes, "You and all of your vode. Not just Boba, but all of you."
The blond stares at him, stares, stares, stares, and when the words finally register, he chokes out a cry, a low keen of pain. And then Jango's arms are around him, and his face is tucked into the crook of Jango's neck, and he's bleeding his emotions all over the bounty hunter's shoulder. The warm, salty wetness slides down his cheeks, out of control, but he leans into the contact, letting go, allowing Jango to hold him, steady him.
And Rex grieves.
When it's over, he feels wrung out, and more exhausted than before. At the same time, however, he feels... oddly settled, and calm, almost. It's an odd feeling, but it's... bearable, at least.
He also feels strangely young, more like his age if he were a natborn, rather than a Clone. That, he muses, is unsettling. It'll pass eventually — or he hopes that it will — and in the meantime, he supposes that he'll just have to put up with it.
"I'd like to be your buir in a more official capacity, if you and your brothers will have me." Jango says suddenly, and Rex pulls away, surprised. The bounty hunter lets him go, doesn't chase up the movement like one of his brothers would have done. He simply looks at the Clone patiently, hands folded in his lap.
"Wh...." It's about the only thing Rex can get out. He's tired, he's so tired, and his mind is empty. He's not really sure what to say or think, at this point in time.
"I know that you're all adults. But I..." Jango sighs, suddenly looking weary. "I can't help but feel responsible for you all, in some way. None of you have had much of a chance to be normal, and this is the best place to start. Only if you want, though; it's your choice."
Rex thinks of Wolffe and the 104th, of how they'd come to view General Koon as first a mentor figure, and then something of a father figure. Recalls, too, how much the Kel Dor had cared about the Clones beneath his command, just as much as— And here, he lets the thoughts stop again, because he won't, he can't think of the other battalions, because it hurts too much. He has to stay focused on the present, not get lost in the past.
He worries his lower lip between his teeth, and nods, slowly, shakily. "I-I think... I think I'd like that," he answers quietly, "I'm sure the others would say the same." He's not so sure about Wolffe, but the CC will probably come around eventually.
One of Jango's hands reaches out, gently cups the back of his neck, presses their foreheads together. Rex can't help but sigh in contentment, body relaxing at the familiar gesture. This, he knows. This, he understands.
"Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Rex." the bounty hunter murmurs. I know your name as my child.
And just like that, Rex has more family. Just like that, Jango is his father. He feels a warmth seeping into his bones, and he curls himself against Jango's frame once more. For now, he's content to simply be nothing more than the man's ad'ika. Nothing more, and nothing less.