Chapter Text
Thire closed his eyes and leaned back into the warm water that ran from the shower tap above him. For a few moments, with his eyes closed, he could go somewhere else. Somewhere where his body didn’t ache, where he didn’t flinch when he moved from the scars that cut through his skin, where he still felt whole. In that place, he wouldn’t have been marked like cattle for market by his commanding officers. But only for a few moments. Life always came rushing back.
“Have you been having nightmares?”
“No?” Thire straightened up and turned to face Jek. “None that I can recall at any rate. Pass the soap?”
Jek sighed as he obliged. When Thire had taken the bar of soap from his hands, Jek gestured to a mark on his rib. “See this bruise? You did that, last night.”
“I’m sorry.” Thire turned away from Jek as he began to wash himself, cringing as he passed over the healing brand that wrapped around his left calf. He could feel Jek’s gaze on him, or at least on the same brand that marked his right shoulder blade. If Thire had looked over, he would have seen the same marks on his brother. Just in case they ever forgot what they were.
“Seeley is beginning to worry about you.”
“I don’t quite care for his opinion on the matter.”
“I’m beginning to worry about you.”
Thire closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the water for a few moments more as the traces of soap ran off before turning off the tap and crossing the room to the bench that held his and Jek’s towels.
Jek followed after him. “I’m serious, Thire.”
“I know you are. It’s just the job getting to me, Jek.”
“That’s a lie. You’re carrying less responsibility now than you did when it was just you and Fox. What’s really wrong?”
Thire took a moment to bury his face in the towel and sigh. “I’m fine, Jek. Really. I’ll be fine.”
Jek was about to protest when another clone entered the showers, nodding to the two men as he passed by. “Commanders.”
“Impulse.” Jek acknowledged, giving Thire time to escape from his questions. Though Jek still followed right on his heels, there were too many men in the barracks for them to continue the conversation. It wouldn’t bode well for their commanding officers to be seen bickering over one’s health.
It had been six months since Fox was shot. Five months since Thire had last seen him face to face. Three days since they’d last talked. But only he and Jek knew about that. As far as the galaxy was concerned, Fox was dead. He’d died guarding Senator Riyo Chuchi from an assassin. Only six beings knew otherwise, that Fox himself had been the assassin’s target. Of those six, only four knew he still lived. Jek had faked Fox’s death by switching him out for a dying brother and counting on the new rotation of medical staff to be none the wiser to their differences. It had worked. Fox was dead. Then CT-5851 was dead, ‘killed’ in a munitions incident. There was no body.
With Fox’s death, the Emperor had turned over the leadership of the Coruscant Guard to Thire. He’d had no choice, Thire had been the last commander of the Coruscant Guard. But he had changed that. He had promoted Jek to the position that Commander Stone had once held, putting him in charge of the riot squad. There had surprisingly been no calls about favoritism. Jek was the highest-ranking officer who had served under Commander Stone as a riot trooper and he had often been the one to lead the squad under Fox’s command. Thire had also promoted the stormtrooper he knew only as Seeley, who had gained his former rank of captain due to his excellence in the stormtrooper training and, mostly, his father’s economic power, to take over Fox’s duties. When Thire had first voiced the promotion to Fox, he had protested, having spent almost the entirety of one year trying to prevent the two from quarreling. Thire had told him that Seeley would keep him in line better than any other man under his command. And Fox couldn’t argue with that.
After the promotions were made official, Seeley had waited in Thire’s office until they were alone. ‘Why me?’ He had asked.
‘I wanted a new perspective, someone who isn’t afraid to call me out.’ Thire had shrugged. ‘And you’re the only stormtrooper who knows how to aim his blaster.’
Seeley had merely glared at him in response. Thire was familiar with his father from the Emperor’s parties back in the days when he was the Chancellor. He was also familiar with the rumors, that some of the good banker Seeley’s children were illegitimate, mothered by the Umbaran secretaries that worked in his banks. Thire thought that was bullshit and that Seeley was just a grey-eyed asshole, Umbaran genetics unnecessary. But he had been right. Seeley had stayed behind in his office after many meetings to call him out, some things rightfully so, others merely pedantic. But he had never argued with him in front of their men. He, Jek, and Thire could have any honest conversation behind closed doors, but they’d made an unspoken pact that they would never disagree in front of the men they led.
Seeley was not in the Guard offices when Thire and Jek arrived, and one of the sergeants informed him that the commander was taking the lead in a spice trafficking bust.
“Good man. Thank you, Sergeant.” Thire had nodded at the trooper as he and Jek parted ways to their own respective offices. While their private quarters in the barracks had been taken away under the Empire, their office spaces remained. Their last bit of privacy. When Thire stepped into his office, he locked the door behind him and removed the stormtrooper helmet, setting it on the desk. This room hadn’t changed at all since the first day he stepped into it, a wide-eyed lieutenant recovering from the injuries he had sustained on Geonosis. It had been Thorn’s office then. Then it had become their office. Then Thorn was gone, and it was only Thire’s. The room was not meant to be the office of the commanding officer of the Guard, but neither was Fox’s, and Thire couldn’t bear to give it up after all this time.
He sunk into his chair, kicking his boots up into the chair beside it that had once been his, and booted up the computer terminal before him, ignoring the onslaught of messages from senators and their staff that opened up before him, and going straight to the folder that contained the messages from his men. How he and Thorn had once scoffed at the idea of a written message. The Empire now required transcription of all comm messages, for ‘recordkeeping’. But it gave Thire something to read while he waited for the onslaught of datapads and the first catastrophe of the day.
The catastrophe came sooner than he expected when the sound of a commotion in the office foyer caught his attention.
Thire sighed and flung his legs from the other chair to stand up, roughly grabbing his helmet as he strode out of his office. There, seven stormtroopers were shouting at a clone captain, who visibly relaxed upon Thire’s entry. “Commander.”
“What’s going on?” Thire asked, leaning against the edge of the desk nearest the group.
“Commander Seeley has been captured.” The sergeant in charge of the squad answered. “They got between us in the fight.”
“So you left him.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“I would.” Thire turned around to glance towards Jek, who had also come out of his office upon hearing the commotion. “I’ll be back in an hour. You lot, with me.”
“Where are we going?” The sergeant asked even as he and his squad fell in behind Thire.
“To take back my commander.”
Commander Ilven Seeley of the Coruscant Guard pulled against the binders that held his hands behind his back. He had not been blindfolded, and his eyes tracked the trandoshan stalking back and forth before him in the small, damp chamber he had been brought to.
“Who’s the rat?” It prodded him again.
“There wasn’t a rat, you idiot.” He hissed. “You think that you can operate out in the open and nobody will notice?” The room didn’t have a door. If he could somehow get the shackles off his ankles, he could flee.
“I think that pretty soon, we will be able to do whatever we would like.” The trandoshan didn’t turn where it had before and made its way to the side of the room. Carefully, it selected an electroprod from a bench that lined the wall. Ilven swallowed hard. “No stormtrooper can stand in ou-.” The trandoshan’s body fell limp to the ground and Ilven’s head whipped around to make eye contact with the blank visor making its way out of the shadows of the doorway. He was almost as disappointed with the sight as he had been at the sight of the electroprod.
“You.”
“Me.” Commander Thire looked over his shoulder as he switched out the magazine on his rifle before making his way around to Ilven’s back. “Your squad is waiting for us outside.”
“You brought them with you?” Ilven pulled his wrists free as Commander Thire loosened the binders, rubbing life back into chaffed flesh.
“Don’t see why I shouldn’t have.” Having loosened the binders from Ilven’s ankles, Commander Thire slipped an arm around his chest and hauled him to his feet before he could protest.
“They’re a bunch of chickens.” Ilven unwillingly threw his arm over Commander Thire’s shoulder and leaned on him as they made their way towards the exit.
“All nat-borns are. You would have never won the war without us.”
He was right, but Ilven didn’t have it in him to concede to a clone. He took in a breath to respond but was saved by a burst of blasterfire and Commander Thire shoving him to his knees on the ground as he fired back, kneeling down to protect him. Ilven had never been this close to a clone before, pressed up against Commander Thire’s chest he could smell the cheap soap that he himself knew from boot camp. When the blasterfire stopped, Thire’s supporting arm fell from his rifle back to Ilven’s waist as he hauled him back to his feet.
He stumbled alongside Thire until they exited the building into a large courtyard, where the seven men who had initially accompanied him sat sullenly in a waiting speeder.
“I will leave the punishment of your squad up to your discretion.” Thire murmured before they reached the vehicle.
Ilven glared at the stormtroopers in the speeder as he climbed in. “Ten men.” Not enough time could have passed for them to forget that they’d lost fellow soldiers that day. “One clone.”
Thire slid into the driver’s seat of the speeder. “Like I said, you would have never won the war without us.”
But while Ilven expected to feel the cold rush of anger in his gut, as per usual when Commander Thire spoke, it never came. The man had used his own body to shield him without a second thought, after coming to save him when none of his own men would. He could have taken the opportunity to let Seeley die and be rid of him. And yet.
Thire flipped through the datapad Seeley had provided him on the gang whose leadership he had almost entirely wiped out the day before. One of his sergeants had been keeping track of them months ago until they fell off the radar, rebranded under a new name that one of Jek’s lieutenants had been collecting data for from his sergeants. The files would have to be combined.
Thire grabbed his helmet from the desk and put it on out of habit as he walked out of the door. Not wearing it in his office was rule breaking enough, he wouldn’t flaunt it in front of his men, or give them reason to file complaint against him. Jek’s office was on the far side of the room from Thire’s, with Seeley’s office in the middle. For that reason, Thire was crossing in front of it when he heard his name and froze midstep as Seeley’s voice carried out to him.
“… Thire and I, we’ve never gotten along. We’ve been at each other’s throats since my first day here. But you know what, that doesn’t matter when it comes down to it. We can set aside our personal difference for the sake of Coruscant. And he’s a damn fine leader. I hate the man, but if I could choose, I’d have him be the one to guard my back every time.”
Suddenly very grateful for his helmet, Thire turned and walked back into his office as if he had forgotten something. The door had barely shut behind him when his helmet hit the desk once more and he inhaled sharply as he ran a gloved hand through his hair as he tried to reconcile his thoughts.
This felt wrong.
“Thire?”
Thire’s head snapped around to find a helmetless Seeley standing behind him. “Seeley. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s only been a few seconds.”
He’d done it again.
“Your headache is back?”
“Yes.” Thire lied. Not entirely untrue. The headaches and the forgetfulness that had persisted under the control of the Emperor had died down now that he no longer served the man day and night, but they had never fully gone away. “How did you know I’ve been having headaches?”
“I asked Jek what the hell was wrong you with. He said you’ve been having migraines.”
“Something like that.” Thire gestured to his guest chair as he walked to his own. “What did you want to speak about?”
Seeley reached into his helmet before setting it down beside Thire’s. “I know you don’t have much access to medications.” He pressed the bottle of anti-inflammatories into Thire’s hands. “Consider this my thank you for yesterday.”
Thire made the effort to shut his jaw before Seeley realized how stunned he was. “Seeley.”
“That’s not all.” Seeley shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Thire, could we spar sometime?”
Thire blinked for a few moments as he processed Seeley’s request. “Why?”
Seeley found a spot over Thire’s shoulder to stare at. “I never liked you. You’re the best shot in the Guard, you’re cocky, the Emperor favors you, and you’re a clone. You’re like, the perfect clone.” He closed his eyes. “And I cannot reconcile that version of you with the man who saved me yesterday.”
Thire fumbled for a response. “I’m not cocky.”
Seeley opened his eyes to fix Thire with a look of disbelief. “You ran into a building full of criminals to save me just because you could.”
“Anyone in my position would have.”
“I wouldn’t have. If our roles were swapped, I would’ve let them kill you.”
“Ah.” Thire fell silent as he tried to understand. “I guess that’s the difference between clones and everyone else.”
“I guess so.” Seeley shook his head before standing. “I should be going.”
“Tomorrow after work?”
Seeley blinked blankly at him.
“To spar.” Thire elaborated.
“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”
When the door shut behind Seeley, Thire let his guard down, falling back in his chair and bringing up the bottle of anti-inflammatories to examine it. When he concluded that it was a far stronger dose than he could have ever hoped to receive without grievous injury, he set it down and buried his face in his arms.
“You’re telling me that you spar, work, and sleep in the same clothes?” Seeley couldn’t have kept the disgust out of his voice if he tried, and he wasn’t trying.
“They’re not the same blacks.” Thire scoffed, continuing to strip his armor off. “I have five pairs, fresh pair every morning.”
“You wear underwear, right?”
Thire stopped to fix Seeley with a look of repulsion. “Of course I do, what, do you think we clones-?” He stopped when Seeley held out a handful of fabric towards him.
“They’re clean. I forgot to take out my clothes from yesterday, I’ll wear those.”
Thire hesitantly took the clothes and unfurled them in his hands. “Thank you, but I can’t wear this.”
“Why not? We have a similar build.” Seeley continued to undress without glancing Thire’s way. “The pants may be a little big on you, but there’s a tie.”
“Not the pants, the, um.” Thire stopped when he realized he didn’t know the name for the shirt he now held.
“Tank top?” Seeley stopped, taking a step over towards Thire, who kept his eyes lowered for fear of having to look at the disdain he imagined in Seeley’s gaze. “Because of the brand.” He spoke far softer than Thire had heard him speak before. The Empire’s marking of their clone troopers wasn’t public knowledge, it would have made even some of the more inclined citizens cringe, but shared showers and shared workout spaces had made them common knowledge to the stormtroopers.
“They’re healing poorly.” Thire confessed. “I don’t want to risk mat burn on it.”
“I’ll wrap it for you. Take your shirt off.”
Thire obeyed silently, sitting down on the locker room bench and grimacing once his chest was bared. He’d never wanted to admit weakness to Seeley, and here he was, baring his scars for him. He imagined that Seeley’s gaze would be tracing the deep knotting on his lower back when he returned with a long wrap of thick bandage. If Seeley did notice, he didn’t say anything as he passed the bandage around Thire’s torso and shoulder, forcing him to move a few times to ensure that it wasn’t too tight. When the wrap was secured, Seeley paused for a moment as if he wanted to say something, before moving away as if he had thought better of it. Thire sighed and lay a hand on the bandage poking out from under the fabric before moving to take off the pants of his blacks. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“I wish I knew.” Seeley scoffed. “I think I liked it better when I hated you.”
“Then why not continue that?” Thire pulled on the sweatpants, tucking the tank into them. Despite it, the clothes still felt too loose.
“I don’t know.” Seeley walked around to stand before him. “I guess it feels wrong after you saved my life. Besides, I’ve learned more about you in three days than I learned in a year.”
“And what have you learned?” Thire asked as he rose to stand before him.
“You’re not infallible for one. You’re kind, even though you don’t think you are.” Seeley’s eyes darted down to Thire’s inner arm. “And you have tattoos.”
Fox had once allowed a piece of contraband to be kept. A few weeks after his ‘death’ Thire had found himself laying on a brother’s bunk as they traced out outlines of a triangle, a fox’s head, and a circle side by side above the crease of his elbow. “My brother did them.”
“For Fox, Commander Stone, and?”
“Commander Thorn. He was my mentor. He’s the reason I’m where I am today.” He was also the reason Thire’s ARC kama lay in his desk drawer, too painful to look at.
Seeley’s brows drew together as he thought over the implication. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad he and Stone are dead, they never had to watch our Republic fall.” Thire spat out before he could stop himself. When the gravity of what he said hit him, he closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Let’s go spar.” Maybe Seeley was feeling friendly enough to not turn him in for treason.
“How many people have you lost? Loved ones that is.” Seeley asked when they were on the floor.
Thire scoffed before answering with a fist. “Nearly all of them, not that that’s unusual for a clone. All of my batchmates except Jek, my first squad, Thorn, Stone.” He hesitated. “Fox.” Seeley tried to use the moment of hesitation to strike a blow to Thire’s rib, only for Thire to block the punch and kick his foot out from under him. “Foundation, Seeley.”
Seeley scrambled back to his feet. “Damn, you’re strong.”
“You’ve never sparred with a clone before, have you?”
“No.” Seeley threw another punch towards Thire’s torso, only to find himself on the ground once more.
“We can take a hit.” Thire held out his hand, pulling Seeley to his feet. “Hold up your arms in a defensive position, watch how my feet move when I strike.”
“Remember I’m not a clone, I can’t take a hit.” Seeley chuckled nervously as he obeyed.
“I’ll just tap you. Watch my feet.” Thire halted his motion before he struck Seeley. “Watch again. Line of movement. If you can understand it, you can predict your opponent’s moves through watching their hips.”
A look that Thire didn’t understand washed over Seeley’s face. He concluded that it was disgust. “Is there anyone else I can look besides your hips?”
“Anywhere, if you don’t want to improve.” Sensing an opportunity for revenge when Seeley’s gaze fell, Thire struck a gentle blow against Seeley’s neck, sending the man stumbling to the floor in a coughing fit. “But you also have to watch your opponent’s hands.”
“You’re an ass.” Seeley coughed out.
“And here I thought you said that I was kind.”
“Kind of an ass.” Seeley rejected Thire’s extended hand to push himself back to his feet. “Is that what they teach you commanders, dirty tricks?”
“I wasn’t made a commander.” Thire took Seeley’s hands in his and pushed his feet into a stronger stance. “I came to Coruscant a lieutenant. But Commander Thorn disagreed with that, and here I am today.”
“That’s more human than being assigned your rank, isn’t it?”
Thire’s lip curled as he glared at at Seeley before taking a step back. "That’s an anti-clone sentiment. We are human. We still bleed if cut. We break, we shatter, we bleed out; that’s pretty human.”
“That’s not what I meant-.” Seeley let his arms drop as he tried to speak, only for Thire to use the opportunity to send him crashing to the floor once more, Thire’s leg pinning his shoulders down.
“No, it’s perfectly clear what you meant, and I’ll concede to the point you were making. We clones are human, but we don’t have humanity in our bodies.”
“Thire.” Seeley protested, still unmoving under his leg.
“Don’t. I’ve accepted my place in the galaxy.” Thire stood, allowing Seeley to sit up. “But I don’t think you have. Get up, let’s go again.”
Thire slowly took off the shirt of his blacks, careful not to disturb the bandage that Seeley had placed there earlier that day. The first one had been discarded after sparring, but after they had showered, Seeley had insisted on another one and Thire had lost the strength to argue with him over it. Now, he was almost grateful that he hadn’t protested. The chaffing of his blacks on the wound had been impeded, and for once his shoulder wasn’t burning like it did at the end of the day.
“Riyo called today, while you were gone.” Jek approached with a content smile. “They’re doing well. Says they’ve even got a proper kitchen table now.”
“Good, the heathens.” Thire said as he tossed the shirt into the laundry bin under his bunk.
“Who wrapped you up?” Jek inclined his head towards the bandage. “This is not our grade of fabric.”
“Seeley did, after sparring.”
“Now that just proves my point that you two can’t be in a room without fighting.”
Thire shook his head as he chuckled. “He’s okay. Though we did argue, while we were fighting.”
“Sounds about right.” Jek reached over to clasp Thire’s bare shoulder. “Do you want to share a bunk tonight?”
“Not until that bruise goes away.” Three days later, the mark Thire had made on Jek’s chest was still dark and purple.
Jek nodded gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Jek.”
Thire watched Jek walk away before he lay down on his side, pulling up the thick blanket that he had slept under for the past five years. The pillows in the barracks were new, the same ones that the barracked stormtroopers had received, but new blankets had not been deemed necessary. At this point, Thire didn’t think he wanted to give it up anyways. He knew exactly where his fingers fit in the threading seams, where he could run the bare threads between his finger pads and think about the new side of Seeley he was seeing. Before he fell asleep, he came to the conclusion that this charade of friendship would be up the moment Seeley’s gratefulness had run its course, and there was no use in getting attached to things he could never have.