Chapter Text
CC-3636, Wolffe, was a good soldier. Hell, he was better than great, he was fucking fantastic. He had more tenacity than entire squads put together, and it showed. Stories circulated about him, some true some not, but by the way some shinies acted when they met him, enough were believable to have an effect.
He made tough calls, and did everything in his power to get as many men as he could out of each battle. Nothing had hurt him more than the loss of the Wolfpack to the Malevolence, not even Ventress blinding him. He never got to bury those brothers, never got to give them the respect they deserved. He sees their faces in every glassy-eyed dead brother, and vows never to let another vod drift endlessly away into the void.
From the start he stood out, even on Kamino, getting into fights with Fox, mouthing off to the instructors, and generally being a fucking nuisance. One thing was clear though. If someone hurt one of Wolffe’s brothers there would be hell to pay.
This first extended just to his batch, but it eventually expanded to that little brat Cody smuggled in. Rex didn’t have anywhere to go and with the rest of his batch gone, the most recent by just over a week, he was under constant scrutiny by the Kaminoans, who were just waiting for an excuse to decommission him. About a month after Cody took him in, Rex pulled a muscle during training and failed the simulation, resulting in a trainer going on a tirade about how this was the last straw, and how there truly was no hope for Rex. Wolffe saw the broken look on Rex’s face and saw red.
That trainer disappeared from Kamino and it was never found out what truly transpired.
The first scars Wolffe got were not from Geonosis.
He was good at following orders, when they were right. Wolffe wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite actually, and he could tell when orders were made without regard to his brothers’ lives. He never really had to question orders under General Koon, as the Kel Dor had the utmost respect for him and his brothers. He was a good soldier, because that’s what he needed to be, that’s what protected him, on the battlefield and off, and more importantly, that’s what protected his brothers.
Which is why, right now, Wolffe feels like his heart just got ripped out of his chest and crushed.
Rex is standing in front of him. With his pistols up. Pointing at Wolffe . This stupid kid who he used to hold after nightmares, who he taught to use dirty tricks when sparring, who chose to dual wield DC-17s because of him, his little brother, is pointing his blasters at Wolffe . Honestly, he thinks being shot would hurt less.
Wolffe looks down at his hands. His hands that are pointing his own pistols back at Rex. Immediately he lowers them. He feels like vomiting.
“Wolffe?”
Wolffe has never heard Rex say his name like that, with such apprehension. It feels like his heart is getting squeezed all over again.
Rex takes his helmet off, and fuck he still looks like that little kid Wolffe remembers sharing a too small room with.
“Rex,” Wolffe breathes out, “I thought you were dead. The reports, they said you were killed in action. That you went down on a cruiser.”
Wolffe doesn’t mention how when he saw that he had to excuse himself to go dry heave in the ‘fresher of an Imperial ship. He doesn’t mention every moment since he saw that blasted report he couldn’t stop thinking about Rex, about how he never got a proper farewell, about how he was the best of them, and how he was gone . And how Wolffe wasn’t there to protect him. It got to the point where Wolffe couldn’t even think about Rex without feeling physically ill. And how cruel was that, to have every good memory of him be tainted by his fate, to not be able to think about the first time Rex, under Wolffe’s instruction, bit Cody while sparring, without wondering if when the cruiser crashed, the vultures picked at Rex’s body for days, or maybe he was crushed under a durasteel wall, or that—
“I did” Rex says, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes that despite being familiar looks so, so wrong .
Then, for the first time, the situation fully dawns on Wolffe. Rex is here. Fighting. Fighting against Wolffe.
“What are you doing here Rex, don’t tell me you're fighting against us.”
And god, does Wolffe hope Rex spouts some batshit crazy explanation for why he’s here, anything but the all too real situation that Rex is fighting against him.
“No. Not against you.” Rex says, “Against the Empire”
Fuck
Wolffe is reeling, wondering how the hell he is getting out of this situation while completing the mission and not hurting his little brother, a situation so unthinkable he thinks he’s going to throw up again.
The mere thought of Wolffe injuring Rex distracts him so much he nearly misses Rex say that the Empire is experimenting on clones.
“What? The Empire wouldn’t do that to us”, yet as the words leave Wolffe mouth he realizes yes they absolutely fucking would.
The Republic never gave a shit about them, beyond making sure that vode could fight in their war, and barring a few Jedi and even fewer Senators and natborns, so many didn’t even see them as deserving of sentient rights.
Of course the Empire would experiment on clones. Wolffe is a fucking idiot for being surprised.
Shit . Okay, Wolffe needs to figure out what he can do, how can he get Rex out of this, how can he save the most broth—
“We have to stop them. You can help us. You can stand with us.”
Rex is looking at him, looking at him to help, and Wolffe would tear the galaxy apart for him, rip planets from their core, and raze entire systems for him. But Rex is not Wolffe’s only brother.
Wolffe makes a decision then, and fuck does is hurt, but he know it’s necessary. He wants to go with Rex, he wants to leave with him and never let him out of his sight again, he wants to do anything he can to make that haunted look in his eyes lessen.
But he can’t. If he goes with Rex, he can only imagine what will happen to the rest of the clones under his command. Not all of them came on this mission, some are back at base, and they trust him . They trust him to make the best calls to get them out alive. It’s part of the reason why his unit works so well together, why their success rate is so high, why the Empire values them so much, the same Empire experimenting on his brothers.
Wolffe knows what he has to do.
With all the conviction he can, Wolffe says, “I am a soldier of the Empire. I have my orders.”
He sees the look on Rex’s face, sees his earnest expression break into hurt, into betrayal , and then get covered by a mask. And that almost breaks Wolffe right then and there. He wants to run to Rex, and say no, I’ll join you, we’ll leave now and fight until every brother is safe. Every single one.
And it is because of this that Wolffe stands firm, the reason that despite the fact his knees feel like buckling, he stands ramrod straight, every inch the good soldier. It’s breaking his heart, but he will not leave men behind. Rex turns to go, and Wolffe can tell he’s reeling with betrayal, wondering how Wolffe can follow the Empire’s orders. If Wolffe makes it out he’ll explain it to him.
CC-3636 is a good soldier.
Wolffe is a better brother.