Chapter Text
As the Republic police gunship touched down on Level 1325, sector I-9, warehouse 18, Captain Rex had a bad feeling.
The sensation in his gut only worsened as General Skywalker disembarked, barely leaving time for the transparisteel canopy to hiss and rise out of his way, the captain leaping down and following in his footsteps as they briefly surveyed the entrance platform.
The unofficial mission tasked by the Jedi was a simple one: capture renegade clone trooper Fives for attempted assassination of the Supreme Chancellor. The priority was to bring him in alive. Discretion was paramount.
Rex could read between the lines. One clone gone AWOL was bad enough; two was cause enough to question the entire stability and viability of the 501st, regardless if some outside influence (separatist plot? virus? both?) was involved. This mission was personal in more ways than one.
But there were other reasons for the tightness in the captain’s throat; this wasn’t the first time he’d been ordered to hunt down a fellow soldier. A friend. Rex could only hope this mission didn’t end in failure as well, with his brother escaping into the bowels of Coruscant’s underbelly where he could do further harm to both himself and others.
Hells below, Rex prayed it didn’t go the other way, either. The captain had lost too many brothers on the battlefield, but at least there was honor in a warrior’s death. What they were doing now, hunting down a good man as if he were a rabid beast… there was so inherently wrong about it that Rex was unable to put it into cohesive thought.
“Well, these are the coordinates Kix gave us,” General Skywalker observed in a low tone, pausing as he cast his eyes about the dingy platform. “Let’s hope Fives is inside.”
“Eh, I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Rex spoke with doubt coloring his words. This whole situation stunk of bantha shit, and he would be more than happy when it was concluded with Fives safely in Jedi hands. What happened beyond that was too far in the future for Rex to contemplate, and his focus needed to be on the here and now.
Skywalker slipped between the tall, narrow aperture in the warehouse doors, pausing at the looming darkness before them. Rex cast his own gaze around the massive space, gargantuan steel fans lazily circling overhead as their shadows took the lead.
Rex cast a glance at his commander as the Jedi powered his lightsaber, casting a lonely, azure glow ahead of them. The captain already had his twin DC-17 blaster pistols in hand, taking no chances when it came to what his brother had in store for them. Fives hadn’t become an ARC trooper because he was a docile kath hound, and the image of Tup snarling like an animal as he charged General Tiplee was still fresh in the captain’s mind.
It seemed whatever sickness had moved Tup to mindless ferocity was also plaguing Fives. That didn’t bode well for anyone involved. Rex still couldn’t quite understand how Fives had managed to escape the Republic medical facility, but he would do his damndest to make sure his fate wasn’t the same as Tup’s.
The captain followed his general, cautiously and with great care, as the darkness of the warehouse was kept at bay by the illuminating cobalt weapon, humming with a gentleness that belied its lethal bite.
“Fives?” Skywalker called out, Rex keeping a close eye over his commander’s shoulder. “Fives, we’re here. Come out. We just want to talk to you.”
He spoke in a firm, even voice, as if the strength in its timbre could compel the rogue soldier to step forward.
The relative silence of the Coruscant warehouse was all that greeted them, so they continued on, the hole in Rex’s stomach growing, millimeter by millimeter, with each step he took. He kept alert and battle-ready, the muzzles of his pistols aimed toward the ceiling.
Rex’s heart leapt into his throat as he heard his own voice echoing from the dark. The voice of a brother.
“General Skywalker.”
The duo paused. Rex scanned the darkness as he lowered one pistol. It was impossible to ascertain his location from the echo that resounded in the spacious building.
“Thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”
Rex walked closer to his general, covering his left flank from possible ambush, the Jedi’s lightsaber covering the right as they moved slowly forward.
“Now, have you come without troops?”
Skywalker paused; peering ahead as he slightly lifted his lightsaber in a futile effort to pierce the darkness.
“We have,” he confirmed, pivoting behind Rex as the trooper smoothly lifted his pistol; automatically covering the Jedi’s exposed back with his own.
The tension was an ugly thing, waiting to see if his brother would spring from the shadows in a suicidal move to take them by surprise, or if he would wait as they walked into a trap. It could go either way, and Rex had difficulty predicting his brother’s next moves even at the best of times.
Rex would have preferred facing a battalion of clankers, alone, with only his pistols, rather than be faced with this impossible situation ever again.
“Put down your weapons, then!” the voice commanded as the captain and Jedi moved as one, slowly rotating in a semi-circle as they continued their attempt at pinpointing the ARC trooper’s hidden location.
“I don’t think so, Fives,” Skywalker replied without hesitation with Rex silently agreeing with him. Relinquishing their weapons was as good as exposing their jugulars to a potential danger. Neither of them would do such a thing unless they had no other options.
“Please, sir!” Fives barked in response, his tone tinged at the edges with desperation which caused Rex to frown unhappily.
Desperate was not good. Desperate was unpredictable.
“Please, I’m unarmed,” his voice added from the darkness, and Rex raised his eyebrows as he peered over his shoulder at Skywalker for his orders.
With a subtle nod, the General extinguished his lightsaber, and that was good enough for Rex. As they were plunged into near darkness, Rex clenched his jaw with a tension uncharacteristic of him, and stepped forward with his pistols still in hand.
“All right. I’m putting my pistols down,” Rex explained calmly, turning the weapons sideways as he slowly lowered them on a nearby crate. His hands remained in the air, palms forward to show he was indeed unarmed. Skywalker moved at his back, bringing himself closer to the captain as he asked:
“What are we here for, Fives?”
As the question was released into the dark, Skywalker brushed past Rex, his tone holding a tiredness and annoyance that was also uncharacteristic for the Jedi. It seemed the captain was not the only one who found distaste in this particular objective, but that was no small surprise. The general was protective of his troopers, and hunting down one of his own men was no doubt too close to the failed mission of capturing his former Padawan.
Ahsoka (no longer Commander Tano, Rex constantly had to remind himself) had eventually been exonerated, but whatever had happened between her and the Jedi, the damage was evidently too great to repair as she had left the Order and never returned.
At least, that’s what the captain had ascertained after the trial. Not that General Skywalker ever talked about it. Not that Rex would ever ask.
“I need your help,” Fives responded after a moment, causing Rex to lift his brows as he walked behind the Jedi’s back, still alert, always alert for his lost brother to make an appearance.
“I know you do,” Skywalker responded with a bit more patience, chin slightly lifted as he projected his voice across the vast space. “We know you’re not well. It’s been rough for you these past couple days.”
“I’m not crazy!” Fives snapped, already on the edge with hardly a push.
Rex moved closer to the General’s right side, eyes narrowing as they both peered in the same direction. Rex sensed they were getting closer – the echoes of his voice were losing their hollowed edge.
“Please, please just – just hear what I have to say.”
They both turned in unison, Fives’ words coming into focus as the echo was lost somewhere behind them. He was close, so close; near enough that Rex could hear the sound of panting. Quick, frightened animal breathing.
“We’re here to help you, Fives,” Skywalker explained soothingly as he began to stalk toward the direction they had heard the voice, a narrowed opening between various boxes and abandoned machinery. “Just come with us.”
This felt too familiar. It was an undercity warehouse instead of a municipal waterway, but the words, the intention, it was uncannily familiar. He could almost see blue-and-white striped montrals in his mind’s eye.
Skywalker continued to move forward and Rex followed, feeling unnervingly exposed without the twin grips of his pistols within his palms.
“Let us take you back to the Temple.”
There was a whoosh over Rex’s head, causing his muscles to flinch and his chest to burn with adrenaline. The noise was accompanied by the whine of a ray shield as white strands coiled on all sides, trapping them within the gossamer lightwebs of an energy barrier.
“No!” Skywalker cried in sharp frustration as he pounded his fist against the thrumming, transparent cocoon.
Rex remained wordless; sticking close to his commander’s left shoulder as he peered past the shimmering barrier, knowing what was coming next. With the flawless efficiency of a highly-skilled ARC trooper, Fives had rendered his targets immobile and harmless with a single, clean move. The captain would have felt no small amount of pride, even if he was the intended target, if the situation hadn’t been so dire. How with each passing minute, the possibility of capturing his brother without incident was dwindling.
Fives’ effectiveness as an elite trooper was the very thing that was shrinking his chances of survival.
“I just need you to listen to me,” the gravelly voice responded, pleading from the edge of the light. “Please!”
Rex gaped at the man coming into view, wearing the plain white armor of a shiny. Without the tattooed sigil on his temple, Rex would have hardly recognized him. It had nothing to do with his shaved head and everything to do with the haunted look in his eyes. His voice was tight with agitation, his facial muscles taut with fearful urgency.
His eyes were darker than their usual golden-amber, molten and fierce and practically feral.
“I’m not really sure we have any other choice!” Skywalker snapped in response, and for not the first time Rex wished his commander had a cooler head. But if Rex knew anything about his Jedi, he knew that Skywalker abhorred the feeling of not having control. And in this instance, their lives were completely within the hands of an unpredictable (and apparently unstable) elite soldier.
This was not the moment for sharp tongues and injured pride, but Rex knew better than to say so. It would not improve their situation and only add fuel to Skywalker’s frustration.
“I was framed, because I know the truth!” Fives cried out, the strain and tremble in his voice painful as he tapped his breastplate with both hands. He paused for a moment, keeping his distance as he rubbed the back of his neck. “The truth about a plot. A massive deception.”
Skywalker crossed his arms and Rex didn’t need to look to know the deep frown that would be fixed there. So Rex chose that moment to step forward, and in a firm voice inquired, “By whom?”
“Well, there’s a sinister plot in the works against the Jedi!”
Fives refused to meet Rex’s gaze as he gestured wildly, cradling his head in an odd manner.
“I have proof of it!” Fives tapped his fingers against his chestplate again, now finally looking up to face Rex as he walked closer. “I can prove that everything that I know is true beyond a shadow of a doubt!”
With each second, Fives’ gestures seemed to become less contained, almost unhinged, and Rex stared miserably at his brother. He hadn’t believed it—hadn’t dared to entertain the idea a clone could do something as heinous as attempt to assassinate the leader of the Republic. But that picture was coming into focus with every irrational word that flew from Fives’ mouth and every erratic gesture of his hands.
“Show me the evidence,” Skywalker demanded, arms crossed.
Fives once again cradled his head with a single hand as he dropped his gaze, abruptly childlike and lost in his mannerisms.
“The… evidence… is in here,” he spoke slowly, as if the words cost him great effort, pointing at his temple below his shaved hairline. “It’s-it’s in here.”
Fives reiterated more firmly, each word punctuated by another jab at his temple. “It’s in all of us, every clone.” He gestured towards Rex, his voice almost returning to something akin to control toward the end of his sentence.
“What is it?” Rex asked as he tried his best to hold Fives’ gaze, willing him to maintain eye contact—anything to keep him grounded and interacting with Rex.
Fives hesitated for only a second before appearing to deflate, his voice softening as he braced his forearm against a nearby column, forehead resting against his gauntlet as he spoke.
“Organic chips. Built into our genetic code to make us do whatever someone wants…”
Fives seemed overwhelmed with weariness, and Rex began to hope—
“…even kill the Jedi!”
Fives lurched forward as if he were punch-drunk, jamming a finger against his temple once more.
“It’s all in here.”
Fives proclaimed again with another jab, his voice rough and edged, molten eyes round and glassy as they stared pleading at the captain through the shimmering barrier.
Rex was at a loss for words. He sensed Skywalker’s sideways glance, but the captain had nothing to offer him, instead rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was more habitual than voluntary.
Fives was completely irrational, possibly beyond reach, and Rex couldn’t think of a damned thing to say to him. For one of the rare moments in his life, he didn’t know what to do.
“Let’s just get you some help first,” Skywalker stated in an even tone, and Rex was thankful the anger had seemed to vanish. Rex knew Skywalker genuinely wanted to get Fives home safely, just as much as the captain did. “Then we can review everything. It’ll be okay, Fives. We’ll sort this out.”
“Ah, you don’t believe me!” Fives roared in a mixture of bright anger and heated frustration, and Rex half-expected him to lash out at whatever convenient object lay nearby from the way his shoulders tensed and his muscles coiled tightly.
Instead, the ARC trooper flinched, almost as if his own outburst had startled him, and he leaned against a stack of crates as he rubbed the back of his neck, mirroring Rex’s own earlier gesture.
That brief moment of vulnerability caused Rex to step forward, slightly distancing himself from the Jedi as he attempted to negotiate with the wild fear that was in his brother’s eyes.
“Fives, we are listening to you. We only want to help,” Rex stated with much more calmness than he felt, dancing between the line of deception (he wouldn’t lie to Fives and say they believed him) and empathy. It seemed to have some kind of effect. He could see the timid hope in Fives’ face, and he stepped forward, a gloved hand still chaffing the back of his neck.
“How do I know you’re not tricking me?” Fives asked, bringing his hands down and clenching them into fists of distress. “How do I know it won’t be a trap?”
The words hurt Rex far more than he knew they should. Fives was sick. He was downright suffering and in a state of mind where he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions, but the mistrust from a brother he had endured so much with stabbed at an invisible chink in his inner armor.
His face softened as he watched helplessly as Fives slowly unraveled at the seams right before their eyes, just on the other side of the blasted barrier.
“The Chancellor will try to kill me! I promise you that!”
“The Chancellor?” Skywalker moved forward, the words an accusation rather than a question as he glared at Fives through the gossamer barrier.
“He’s in on it!” Fives proclaimed, beginning to pace in front of them like a brewing storm as he cradled his head again. “I don’t know to what extent. But I know he orchestrated much of this! He told me in the medical bay!”
Fives whirled around, eyes abruptly laser-focused as he looked between the Jedi and trooper.
Captain Rex would have sworn on his life that Fives had never looked more grounded and rational in that moment, which only served to tighten the coil of anxiety that had snaked itself around his ribs. Fives was so far gone, and he didn’t even realize it.
“He told you?” Skywalker asked, stalking as close to the barrier as he could. Rex suddenly had the impression he was trapped in a cage with an angry beast. “When you tried to assassinate him? You have gone too far, Fives. The Chancellor isn’t capable of what you claim.”
Skywalker’s tone was so affronted that Rex wanted to grab the Jedi by the nape of his neck and give him a good shake, as if he was a cadet running off at the mouth during basic training. Skywalker’s personal feelings, his protectiveness over a man who needed no such protection, his heated tone was not what Fives needed at that moment.
Fives’ next words and wild gestures confirmed this.
“He is! I swear to you, General. You have no idea—”
“Stand down, soldier!
Fives whirled around as a tinny voice of a helmeted brother, full of authority, echoed across the vast chamber as a squad of troopers converged on them. Red-and-white colors announced their station as the Coruscant Guard, and Rex recognized the crimson helmet and sun visor of Commander Fox.
What made Rex’s heart freeze was the pistol gripped in his hands, his body turned sideways to make a smaller target as he advanced on their renegade brother with his men at his heels.
“Stand down! Get on your knees!”
“No! No, no! Stay back!” Fives responded, his hands waving in panic, as if the gesture alone would keep them at bay. His back almost against the barrier now. Rex could see the slight turn in his head, his eye-line falling on something nearby.
Rex’s pistols as they lay abandoned on the crates.
“Don’t do it! Don’t do it, soldier!” Commander Fox barked, seeing exactly what was about to happen, just as Rex did. Just as they all did.
“Get away from me!” Fives screamed in absolute, blood-curdling terror.
Time seemed to slow as Fives dashed forward and grabbed one of the pistols (his pistol!) scooping it up as a cry tore up from Rex’s throat, ripping him with its horror.
“Fives, no!”
The receiving answer was one with which he was familiar—haunting his dreams since the living nightmare that was Umbara. A brother shooting a brother. Impossible. Unthinkable.
Undeniable.
Rex felt as if he was very far away, watching the events unfold across a newsfeed from a distant star system. The way Fives’ body jerked, the smoke curdling past his shoulder, Rex’s pistol clattering to the dusty floor. His brother gasping for breath, chin angled downward to gaze at the burning circle that Rex could not see but knew was there. Fives stayed upright for a moment, stubborn in his innate refusal to be cowed by such a wound.
And then he buckled.
Rex’s paralysis broke, his consciousness flung back into his body with painful sharpness the same instant Fives began to fall. Rex screamed he hit the ground.
“Fives! Fives!”
His chest was pressed as close to the cursed barrier as possible, but even that was not enough, and he began to pound against the transparent wall as his heart seized and stuttered with terror, a strangled “Fives…” somehow making it past his tightening larynx.
No. No no no no no! Not Fives! Not Fives!
“Get this ray shield off!” Skywalker roared, and a trooper raised his blaster, destroying the field emitter with one clean blast.
His brothers were nothing if not good shots.
The shield was extinguished in a shower of sparks, and Rex immediately descended on Fives, kneeling at his side and placing his hands across his chestplate as he softly pleaded, “Fives? Brother…”
The smoke was still curdling from the glowing hole in his armor, still burning the flesh within.
Rex’s flesh, Rex’s blood. This wasn’t just his brother; this was a part of himself that lay on the floor gasping for air.
“Call for help!” Rex snapped at the nearby troopers, frozen with apparent shock. “We need a medic!”
The small sounds of Fives struggling to fill his lungs, straining with effort, brought Rex’s attention back as he reached up, breathing his name, “Rex…”
“Fives,” he responded softly, gripping his shoulder to keep him from struggling as Rex felt his own heart constrict, the organ’s paltry attempt to sympathize with the black wound in his brother’s chest.
“This… it’s bigger than any of us… than anything I could have imagined.”
Fives was straining to breathe, his amber eyes fixated on Rex’s face, each word heavy and punctuated with the importance he was trying to convey.
Rex listened, because of the love he had for his brother, even though the words were nonsense. The one thing that truly mattered to Rex was for Fives to be able to breathe. For each breath to not be his last. For his lungs to continue inflating and deflating, for his heart to keep beating, for his eyes to keep their focus on Rex’s face.
“I-I never meant to…”
Fives reached for him, grasping at the air before Rex’s pauldron in an effort to draw him closer, and the captain leaned forward, gripping the back of his brother’s neck to hold him upright, lending what strength he could.
“I only wanted to do my duty,” Fives confessed against Rex’s ear, the words almost too soft to catch.
It wasn’t the words themselves that made Rex’s face crumple with agony; it was the resignation that colored them. They were weighed with the burden of a man who knew his best efforts had wrought nothing, and his actions had ended in failure total and absolute.
And it was at that moment that Rex felt something begin to give. The weakening had started when he’d met Cut Lawquane and his family. It had begun to crack under the terror of Krell, had gathered various fractures along the way as he continued to question his role in the war. But this was the moment he knew he would never come back from. This was the loss that would break him.
Fives began to tremble, his breath hitching and uneven now, and Rex whispered, “Brother…” as he attempted to fill that single word with all the emotions he couldn’t convey, didn’t know how to voice properly.
“Fives. Stay with me, Fives!”
The panic was in his throat and coiled in his chest as Fives’ strength drained from his limbs, his eyes drifting and unfocused as Rex held him upright.
No, not like this. Not like this!
“Fives!” Rex gently shook his brother, the edge of the abyss too close beneath his feet now, and he knew he was in danger of falling.
“The mission…” Fives stammered, his eyes roaming everywhere but Rex’s face. “The nightmares… they’re…” Amber eyes found his again, identical and yet different in all the ways that mattered.
“…finally… over…”
And then the golden eyes were gone, hidden behind lids that refused to stay open as his head tilted away, drawn by gravity and held up only by Rex’s tightening grip.
Rex couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t find the air. Darkness was closing around him, extinguishing the light, the hope that this couldn’t be happening. Couldn’t possibly be real.
“Fives?” Disbelief.
“No, Fives.” Pleading.
“Come on, Fives, don’t go.” Begging.
“Stay with me, stay with me. Fives! Fives! Don’t go!” Anger.
“No. Oh, no…” Acceptance?
Hell no.
“Don’t you do it, Fives. Don’t you dare leave. Do you hear me, Fives? Fight, damn you! Get up and fight, soldier!”
Hands now, pulling him away, forcing him to release the hold on his brother as Rex had begun to shake him, roaring at him to fight, to survive, because the alternative was… was…
“That’s enough, Rex.”
A surprisingly gentle voice. The… General?
Somehow Rex had found himself in a half-embrace, half-struggle with the Jedi. Rex refused to look anywhere but at the figure on the ground, and he howled in rage as phantoms shrouded in white descended on his still form.
“Get away from him!” Rex’s anguish was almost an identical marker to Fives’ own earlier cry, full of desperation and maddening fear.
“Rex, stop!” Skywalker barked, arms squeezing around Rex’s shoulders to keep him from lunging at the ghostly intruders. “It’s only the medics!”
Rex ceased his struggles, blinking in confusion, his vision coming into focus as he recognized the pale, clean smocks of Coruscant medics. Noticing for the first time the look of pity on his brothers’ identical features as they stared openly at the captain. The Coruscant Guard had removed their buckets at some point, but Rex didn’t care how big a fool he was making of himself.
As he stared at those red and white markings, he began to grow hot around the face. This was their fault. Fives hadn’t been a threat until they had stormed in, guns blazing.
Where had they come from? No one else had known their location. No one but Kix. How had this happened?
Now another of his brothers. Gone. Their names were bitter leaves on his tongue. A legion of them, too numerous to count, nothing left but memories and markers on a plaque.
And now, Domino Squad’s last surviving member—
“We have a pulse.”
Four words. Four simple words powerful enough to break the world.
Four words with the capacity to sap the strength from Rex’s limbs, the captain held aloft above an endless sea by the arms still around him, but even so. Rex was fairly sure he was drowning.
What else could explain his sudden inability to breathe?