Work Text:
Yavin Base, ~ 1BBY
“Mind if I join you, gentlemen?” Gregor looked up from his tray of food, glancing at Rex and Wolffe across from him, and then to the woman in rebel fatigues waiting by his elbow.
“Sure,” Rex said, and Gregor scooted over on the bench to make room for her. “But wouldn’t you be happier with the younger crowd, instead of a bunch of grizzled clones?”
Before she could reply, Gregor spotted something of interest on her tray and said, “Oh, hey. Is that a churro?”
“It is. Here. Have mine. They run out as soon as they hit the chow line.” She pushed her tray toward him, offering the elongated doughnut to him.
“No, I couldn’t take yours,” he said, but didn’t take his eyes off the sweet treat. “Uh, why is it blue?”
“They’re calling them ‘Duros churros’. I think it’s a gimmick. The little red specs on it are something spicy.” She shrugged as if to say, “Who knows why we all love blue food?”
“Go ahead. Take it.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and admitted, “I already had one I stole from the kitchen while they were making the last batch.”
A light seemed to go on over Wolffe’s head and his mismatched eyes fixed on the kitchen across the hall. “Be right back,” he said, sliding off the bench.
“Anyway, to answer your question, I’m told I look a bit younger than I really am.” She nodded to Rex. “The first time I met you, I was functionally about the same age you were. But that was a long time ago, so you lot passed me by.” Rex knew she meant clones in general. Accelerated aging kept them perpetually out of sync with the naturally born humans around them.
“Do I know you?” Rex studied her face. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it. “Wait… I knew you on Coruscant, right?”
“Yes! That’s me. I was a bartender at 79’s, back in the day.”
“Ah!” Rex exclaimed and slapped the table. He recalled her name then, and said it aloud. “Now I recognize you. I bet you remember some of us better than we do you, since you were actually sober.” Rex grinned, the warm smile crinkling the corners of his golden brown eyes. “But I’m surprised you recognize me as I am now.”
“Honestly, I didn’t at first, with your beard and without your old armor. But everyone here knows who you are, Captain Rex.” Rex made a face at the implied compliment. “But you,” she turned to Gregor, who had been following the conversation with his eyes. “I haven’t met you before, I don’t think.”
Gregor swallowed a mouth full of churro and replied, “How would you know, though? I mean, we all looked alike back then.” Time had etched all clones in different ways, but Gregor knew that - even now - with no tattoos or distinctive facial scars, most nat-borns would be unable to pick him out of a group of other bald clones.
She chuckled at this, covering her mouth as she chewed a bite of the mystery meat that was today’s “special”. Rex explained for her, “The staff at 79’s saw our brothers every day, Gregor. They paid attention; got to know us as individuals. You missed out.”
“Wait,” swallowing her food hurriedly, the former-bartender-turned-rebel gasped and sat back a bit to get a better look at the man beside her. “Gregor? The Gregor?” She pronounced it ‘thee’, adding an extra syllable worth of Es to the end of the word.
Gregor’s expressive eyes went wide with surprise and he giggled a little as that tick he’d picked after too many close run-ins with explosions showed itself. “I don’t know about ‘the Gregor’,” he mimicked how she’d said it. “What’s that about?” He looked back and forth from her admiring gaze to Rex’s amused one. “I mean, not that I mind you looking at me like that, but…I’m just me.”
“Everyone at 79’s heard the stories about the mysterious Captain Gregor,” she beamed. “The clone commando who was lost at the battle of Sarrish, turning up later on Abafar only to sacrifice himself – or so it seemed – so D-Squad could complete a vital mission.” She caught herself and made an embarrassed face. “I’m sorry I’m gushing. It’s just, well – you were kind of a legend.”
Gregor reddened to the tops of his ears and he giggled again, not sure what to do with his newfound legendary status. “Well,” he said, pointing at his fellow captain with half a churro. “Rex here has more heroics under his belt by volume than I do.” He rolled his eyes at the word “heroics”, to show he thought they’d only done what any other clone would have in their places.
“Oh, Rex would’ve been a legend, too, if we hadn’t seen him every time he was on leave.” She winked at Rex. “Legends are larger than life. They don’t show up at your workplace to drink with their brothers. So Captain Rex of the 501st was just a garden variety demigod.” Now it was Rex’s turn to blush as he laughed off the compliment, his light brown cheeks darkening against his snowy beard.
“Say, weren’t you putting yourself through flight school?” Rex asked, aiming to bring the tone of the conversation back down the gravity well.
“You remember that?” She felt her own face heat up. Bartender! A round of blushes for everyone, she thought before continuing. “Yeah. I was, and I did. Got pretty good, too, if I’m being honest. After the war I flew shuttles, freighters, anything, really, until I could pay for my own ship.” She took a sip of her drink, looking thoughtful. Then she said, “Come to think of it, did I hear your team is due to go out on recon tomorrow? Do you have a pilot lined up yet?”
Wolffe walked up with a whole plate full of blue churros, plunking them down in the middle of the table. Having heard just the tail end of the conversation he replied, “We’re all competent pilots, so we don’t usu – ow!” Gregor had kicked him under the table, earning a glare from the commander. “What was that for?”
Rex pretended nothing had happened. “If you’re volunteering, we’d be happy to have you along.”