Chapter Text
"I never appologized to Tano, you know." Wolffe said, leaning against the wall and staring at the scuffed paint of Wren's old graffiti.
"What?" Rex snapped out of his fuge. He was sitting on their shared bunk (Rex claimed the lower one by virtue of being decanted first), and running maintenance on his deecees. "Sorry. Missed that."
"Commander Tano. I was the one who stunned her, remember? After that bomb plot?
" Wolffe shifted, letting his other shoulder take the cool burn of the metal. "I never apologized for that."
"She worked through it." Wolffe saw Rex shrug out of the corner of his eye. "We all got caught up in a mess too big for us. You know, one of those schemes within schemes."
"I wouldn't have forgiven me."
"What are you on about?" Rex leaned forwards. "You aren't thoughtful."
Wolffe made a rude gesture at him without looking.
"Nice."
"Shut up, brother." Wolffe sighed, and pressed his forehead against the wall. "I feel old."
"You are old."
"Ah," Wolffe waved at him, "I feel tired. All this is just too much."
"You getting shellshocked, Wolffe?" Rex rose and put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought they built the CCs better than that."
"No, I'm steady. Gregor dying is just making me think."
"So you finally have a thought rattling around in that head of yours." Rex grabbed him and pulled him into a loose headlock. "First time. How's it feel?"
"Ey!" Wolffe batted at him. "It's a lot better than yours, brother!"
"Ahhh, don't think so." Rex ducked out of range. "Twi'lek on Ithor!"
"What, that the first time your brain start working or the first time you found enough credits to buy fifteen minutes?"
"You wound me, Wolffe." Rex pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.
"Right, right. We both know you only needed to pay for three."
Rex swatted at him, then finally let him go. Wolffe caught his breath (it took longer than he would have liked), and sat down. The Ghost was docked in the Fortitude's hangar, settled out of the way until they could find a good planet to stash it while it's Captain was on medical leave. He and Rex were crammed into Wren's old room, now that she was busy on Mandalore. It was better than being stuffed in some general barracks, and more space than the old AT-TE.
Wolffe exhaled. "I'm having regrets, Rex, and I don't like it. Before the fight, I told Gregor to fuck off 'cause he was standing too close to me. He's dead… I can't apologize for that. Tano, too. I wanna tell her I'm sorry. I could have listened, but I'm just too trigger happy." Wolffe ran a hand down his face. "Listen to me talk."
"I hear you, brother." Rex said quietly. "We all have regrets."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Ahsoka was like my sister. Went nearly two decades without seeing her, and I never even bothered to tell her I love her. Ahhh," Rex pressed his knuckles into his chin, "what kind of brother am I, eh? Only trooper I got out was Gregor, and only because he got his damn head smashed in at the right angle."
He looked at Wolffe. "You never told me why yours stopped working."
Wolffe shrugged. "I never knew. I woke up like that. Think we passed through some space microwave; fried my head."
"Ever wish it didn't?"
Wolffe looked away. "Yeah. Be a lot easier. That other Wolffe, he didn't think like this."
He also didn't know what the unfriendly end of a blaster tasted like, but Rex worried about him enough without that detail.
Rex snorted. "No you don't. Wolffe I knew always picked the harder path. Y'know, out of spite."
"I think I'm a different man."
Rex ignored him. "C'mon. Commissary is open. Let's see if we can find some of Phoenix Squadron."
"You don't need to visit the Commissary."
"Oh, not you too."
"What do you mean I have to surrender my blaster?" Wolffe scowled. The Fortitude was sitting in an orbital dock just outside the Yavin system, where the Rebellion was currently stationed. It made sense that everyone from Lothal had to be cleared—spies were everywhere—but that didn't mean Wolffe had to like it.
"I mean, you have to surrender your blaster." Orrelios repeated, tapping his foot. "Play nice, Wolffe. You'll get it back."
"Oh, and you're gonna give them your bo-rifle?" Wolffe gestured to the weapon slung across Orrelios's back.
"Yeah. Eventually, look." Orrelios placed his hands on Wolffe's shoulder. "They always do this after fights. Everything gets checked over, blaster fire gets counted, they, uh. Well, they had a problem a few years back where somebody skipped medical and, eh. Well, his roommate found him and had to go to therapy for a few months."
"They built clones better than that." Wolffe checked the safety and handed his blaster to the skinny kid in charge of running them down to repairs. "I want that back. Yeah, we don't get shocked."
Orrelios stared at him flatly. "You really wanna try and pull that one on me? You realize I've met you?"
"What does that mean? There's nothing wrong with me." Wolffe followed the hall and sat in one of the chairs outside the room where Rebel high command was debriefing everyone.
"Oh, so I imagined you freaking out at Kanan?"
Wolffe frowned. "That's not shellshock; there was a chip in my head. Of course I'm screwy around Jedi."
"Right. Nothing wrong with you." Orrelios turned to him. "Look, I can recommend someone. Nothing shameful in talking."
"I'm fine. Little Gods, between you and Rex, I feel like I've got a horde of Dorin grandmothers."
Orrelios gave him a funny look. "What's to know about Dorin grandmothers?"
Wolffe shrugged. "They nag. I'm told."
Orrelios nodded sagely. "Ah. I've got a few of those myself."
The door opened, and that Imperial Agent stepped out.
"See," Orrelios elbowed Wolffe. "Here's one now. Kallus! How are you holding up?"
"Garazeb." Kallus nodded stiffly. "I'm fine." He winced. "Need to go to medical."
Orrelios's ears went a little flat, and he grabbed Kallus by the shoulders, examining him. "What? You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, no. Let go of me, you oaf!" Kallus batted Orrelios's hands away. Wolffe grimaced. "My leg is acting up again."
"Ah." Orrelios nodded. "I've got to debrief. I'll catch up with you."
"Don't waste your time." Kallus waved him off. He nodded at Wolffe "Commander."
"Yeah."
Wolffe watched Orrelios watch him go. "Little Gods, you're going to give me cavities. He's supposed to be the grandmother?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" They watched as a frowning Ithorian woman, still in her flight suit, was called in for debrief.
"Oh Kallus," Wolffe mocked, pitching his voice high, "you're not hurt, are you? Here, let me tend your wounds with my big strong arms." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.
"I don't sound like that." Orrelios frowned.
"Sure, but everything else was correct."
"I—" Orrelios sat down and curled his fingers around his chin. "Really?"
"Really." Wolffe confirmed. "And here I thought Bly was dense."
"Who's Bly?"
"Brother. He was blaster over boots for his general, and everyone in the GAR knew except for him."
"I'm not blaster over boots." Orrelios said, but he didn't sound like he was doing a very good job convincing himself. "I don't even wear boots."
"Riiight." Wolffe drawled. "And General Syndulla's baby isn't Jarrus'."
Orrelios's ears went flat. "What?"
Wolffe eyed him. "She's not getting fat, Spectre-6. I've known about three women in my entire life and even I can tell there's a baby in there."
"What? No, I know she's pregnant, but...Kanan?" Orrelios leaned forwards. "He was a Jedi."
Wolffe felt his face screw up in confusion. "You lived on the same ship as them for how many years and you couldn't tell they were sleeping together?"
"W-well—I—" Orrelios stammered. "I assumed it was sexless. Y'know, ascetic. Jedi aren't supposed to do that sort of thing."
Wolffe scoffed. "Ask Rex about his Jedi one of these days. He has stories."
Orrelios ran his hands over the top of his head. "Fuck you for making me know that. I can't believe this."
"You're so fantastic at denial, you even deny other people's relationships. I'm impressed."
"Oh, eat dirt. How the hell do you know, anyways?"
"I'm a clone, Spectre-6. Most accomplished gossip force in the galaxy. Give me a few days and I can tell you anything about anyone on this base."
"I'll pay you not to do that." The door slid open. He sighed in relief. "Ashla's luck."
Orrelios dodged around the Ithioran pilot and ducked into the room, leaving Wolffe alone with his thoughts.
You put a few million identical men in the same starship, what did you expect them to do if not talk shit? Wolffe didn't know most of the troops under his command, especially after Abgadeo, but he certainly knew about them. Of course, not all of it was true, but that was the fun part.
Orrelios was in his debrief long enough for Wolffe to nod off, his head drooping down onto his shoulder. The door opening woke him, and he regretted not finding the opportunity to take off his armor. He woke up aching twenty years ago, and time had only made it worse.
Orrelios grinned at him. He looked awful, but that was what happened when you played a key role in a critical mission. His own debrief for Tano's capture had taken eight hours, easy, although most of that was waiting for everything he said to be confirmed and corroborated by Fox and his men.
"You're up." Orrelios gave him a thumbs up. Wolffe also put a finger up, just not that one. He rose, his back cracking loudly, and walked as gracefully as he could manage into the debrief room. There were three people waiting for him: a frowning man he recognized as General Draven, a Mon Cala woman, and a hologram of none other than Senator Organa. Wolffe hid his surprise, and saluted.
"Sirs."
"Please, take a seat. "I'm Colonel Chiant Ko. This is General Draven, and Senator Organa. If you could please state your name?"
"Yessir. Com—Wolffe. CC-3636."
Senator Organa narrowed his eyes. "A clone commander? How did you overcome your orders?"
"I don't know." Wolffe said truthfully. "My chip stopped working in my sleep."
"And when was ths?" Colonel Ko asked.
"About a decade ago, now."
"The Spectres tell us nothing." General Draven pinched the bridge of his nose. "Continue. What did you do after that?"
"I deserted the Imperial Navy. I stole a ship and jumped through old Republic holdouts, until I found Rex and Gregor."
"That's CT-7567 and CC-5576-39." Colonel Ko read from a datapad. "For the record."
"Right. They were holed up in an old AT-TE on Seelos. I stayed there until some contacts of Rex's showed up. The Spectres," Wolffe shifted uncomfortably. "I contacted the Empire with their location, but they managed to escape."
"More detail, please." General Draven drummed his fingers on the table.
"Um, right." Wolffe exhaled. "The Spectres rewired an old tactical droid to trace our signal on Seelos. They confronted Rex, and Jarrus recognized us as clones. I assumed they were looking for revenge, and shot at him."
"A moment." Senator Organa held up a finger. "Revenge?"
"Yes sir. It made sense to me that the only reason a Jedi would track down some old clones was to kill them."
"Would a Jedi have a reason to seek revenge on you?"
"Sir?"
"Did you kill any Jedi during Order 66?" General Draven clarified.
Wolffe felt himself pale. "No." He exhaled. "I was on, uh, Cato Nemodia with the 104th. The only Jedi there was Gen—Master Plo Koon. He, um, he was shot down. Captain Jag, I think."
"You think?"
"I don't remember that day very well."
"I have confirmation." Colonel Ko said. "Imperial incident report 890-A. Claims he was killed in a sucide attack against a Nemodian grub-nursery."
"That's a lie!" Wolffe slammed his hands on the table and stood up. "He was shot down! He would never… not children. I—" They were all staring at him. Colonel Ko's hand was at her hip.
Wolffe sat back down. "Sorry."
"Try to control yourself, Wolffe." General Draven said. "Of course we dont believe anti-Jedi propaganda."
"It says that Jag—and you got the name right, CC-55—noticed him veering towards the building and fired on his ship. He was commended for it."
Wolffe's vision felt constricted.
"Are you alright, Wolffe?" Senator Organa leaned forwards.
"Fine. I'm fine. I don't really remember much of this."
"That's fine." Colonel Ko said. Why don't we move on? You fired at Kanan Jarrus and?"
"Right. Uh, we—Gregor and I—fired on them: Jarrus, Bridger, Wren, and Orrelios. Rex talked us down, and they told us that Tano sent them to recruit Rex. She had been sending him messages. I uh, I hid them from him. Rex initially refused, and we gave them a list of potential bases. Gregor somehow convinced them to go joopa-slinging—a joopa is a big worm… thing. You can eat them. I contacted the Empire and told them that I had seen a Jedi."
"Why?" Senator Organa, again with the hard questions.
"I don't… I don't really know. I thought the Empire would retaliate against us if I didn't. I…" Wolffe looked off to the side.
"Was this the first time you contacted the Empire from Seelos? Did you ever inform them of Tano's messages?"
Wolffe shook his head. "I never told them about the messages, but, uh, I contacted them a few times. I thought I saw things."
A distant figure. It was always the same.
Colonel Ko looked at General Draven, who frowned.
"I didn't," Wolffe held up his hands, "I was just imagining things."
"Continue."
"Right. One of their probes found us. An Imperial ship arrived and contacted me. It was Agent Kallus, actually. I tried to lie to him, blamed my eye, but he didn't buy it, and attacked us with three AT-ATs. The Spectres fled on the Phantom, and Rex, Gregor, and I attacked the AT-ATs with our AT-TE. The Phantom returned, and Jarrus had us hide in a sandstorm, where he and Bridger were able to use the Force to incapacitate one of the AT-ATs and escape. Rex left with them, and Gregor and I retrofitted the AT-AT into a living space.
"Nothing of note really happened until Rex, Kallus, and General Syndulla, gathered Hondo Ohnaka, the pirate, and a bounty hunter, and recruited us for the Liberation of Lothal."
"Nothing of note." General Draven said. "Expand on that."
"Just day-to-day. Hunting food. Chores. Making Gregor take his meds. Sometimes we went into town for supplies."
"Did anyone ever recognize you?"
Wolffe shook his head. "No. I wore a cloak. Most people don't like clones. It's smart not to be noticed."
"Alright."
"Right. Liberation. General Syndulla took us to Lothal and we received a message that the camp was under attack. Onhaka… tried to get us killed. He, ah, had General Syndulla clamp the Ghost to an Imperial freighter—a smuggler trick. We slipped past the blockade, and landed to provide reinforcements. We fought until the Ghost was driven away, then retreated into one of the caves. Bridger… used some Jedi magic to summon… wolves, and managed to turn the tide of the battle. The governor surrendered."
Wolffe trailed off.
"Wolffe?" Senator Organa prompted.
"Sorry. Sorry. I'm a little… scatterbrained about this."
"We can take a short break."
"I can continue." Wolffe cleared his throat. "Vizago, Mart, and I remained on the base, and were attacked by uh, this grey creature. Admiral Thrawn's assassin. I was knocked unconscious, but apparently one of the wolves drove the assassin off. He stole one of our shuttles and ran to warn Thrawn. Apparently Bridger spoke to Mart—gave him some mission. We entered high orbit and broadcasted on frequency zero."
"Did you have any other details about this mission? Did Bridger speak to you at all?"
"No. I just thought we were waiting for the others to signal us for pick up."
Colonel Ko nodded for him to continue.
"Frequency zero attracted… purgils. The big hyperspace creatures. And Mart had us fly towards the Imperial ships. They, ah, well, they latched onto the command ship and dragged it into hyperspace."
"And Bridger was on the Imperial ship?"
"Yes. He was on the main channel. Told us that the… that the Force would be with us."
"Did that bother you?"
"Senator…" General Draven looked at Senator Organa.
"How do you mean, sir?"
"You seem to have… problems with Jedi. Did this mention of the Force bother you?"
"...No. I don't have… problems with Jedi."
"If we can get back to the debrief?"
"Right. Ah, we picked up the group on the Imperial dome, they primed the launch, and Wren triggered the explosives. The dome exploded. And then, we came here. And that's it."
Colonel Ko glanced at General Draven. "Thank you, Wolffe. We may contact you for more details in the future. In the meantime…" She trailed off.
"Wolffe." General Draven said. "We're pleased to have anyone for the Alliance, and especially people with military history like yours, but some of the things you've told us are concerning."
"Concerning? Concerning how?"
"Concerning." General Draven said firmly. "If you want to remain a part of the Alliance, we're going to require that you see a psychiatric professional."
"Psychiatric?" Wolffe looked down. "You think I'm crazy."
"No one said that."
"You sure implied it."
Colonel Ko rolled her eyes. It was impressive on a Mon Calamari. "Psychiatric help doesn't mean you're crazy."
"The only reason for a clone to go to a shrink is if they're like Gregor: injured." Wolffe tapped his fist against the side of his head. "We don't break down like nat-borns. We're engineered against it."
"Our conditions are final." Colonel Ko said firmly. "Did you have any other questions?"
"No sir."
"Well then—"
"If I could ask one more question?" Senator Organa spoke up.
"Go ahead." General Draven looked like he aged ten years in the last two hours.
"Wolffe. Why didn't you search the wreckage for Master Plo Koon?"
Wolffe's throat constricted. "I did, sir." He forced the words out.
"You did? You didn't mention it."
"It was procedure. A ship gets shot down, you check on it. I didn't think I had to mention it."
"Tell us what happened." Colonel Ko said.
"His ship got shot. He hit… a bridge, I think. We tracked the smoke trail and found the ship. The cockpit was almost completely destroyed. I found. Um. I found an arm, and I knew he was dead. So we stopped searching."
"You seem distraught."
"Of course I seem distraught!" Wolffe snapped, before reeling himself in. "Gener—Master Plo always looked out for us. He was—I," Wolffe cut himself off. "And we killed him."
"Do you feel guilty?"
"Bail, stop playing therapist!" General Draven said. "Wolffe. You're dismissed. Go to the medical bay. I'll be sending over a psych eval request."
"Yes sir." Wolffe saluted.