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If anyone, at any point in time since he was decanted, had told Trick that he would have eventually defected from the Republic to join some covert intelligence group comprised of vagabonds, ex-cons, ex-separatists and anything in between and orbiting, he probably would have shot them on sight. Hells, he may have just forced himself to be around his ex-General in order to hand the poor soul over to the bastard. Then again, 'defect' from the Republic was a strong word. He was no deserter. But there was little all else for him to do when his injury offered him nothing but a forced retirement and the welcome embrace of cleaning 'freshers for the rest of his comically short life. He had more to give— much more. And Hawks saw that. Gave him more. Trick owed Hawks a lot more than his life. All Hawks ever asked was for his company and loyalty.
"I don't like fighting with numbers."Hawks had said when Trick was introduced to him by his CT number. At first, Trick had taken the words as an insult. Just another natborn who saw the clones as meat droids. Hawks quickly realised his mistake, and was quicker to correct himself.
"You got a name? A real one. Not whatever kriff they assigned you."
Trick tried not to let hope override his lingering suspicion.
"I don't have one."
"They don't let you have names?"
There had been an edge in Hawks' voice when he spoke, head tilted in a way that someone could pass it off as curious. Trick was good at reading people though, and he could tell that Hawks was karking furious beneath the easy going facade. Maybe he wasn't as bad as the other natborns after all. Only time under his leadership would tell.
"I fold." Hawks sighed, tossing his losing hand onto the table, managing an affectionate shake of the head when '33 cheered and proudly collected his winnings. 'Winnings' being a small collection of sweetened ration bars that Hawks pilfered (purchased very legally) during their last stop planet side, a couple of shiny rocks, and a credit chip that Hawks had already checked and was unfortunately empty. '33 didn't seem to mind though as he pocketed it anyway.
"Nice move you pulled with the cards earlier."
"Sir?"
"Don't think I didn't see you pull that card out of your boot, soldier. And what ever other cards you pulled out of wherever else. I counted the cards, we're seven over."
Deflated, and partially sheepish, '33 reached back into their pocket to retrieve the credit chip when Hawks' laughter stopped them.
"No, no, you won that fair and square, you just cheated better than I did. How'd you manage to sneak the others in without me noticing?"
"Learned it from one of the 501st boys a few weeks ago. It's all in the hands. And maybe the gloves."
"You'll have to show me some time."
"Wouldn't want to give up all my secrets."
"Got a lot more tricks up your sleeve, huh?"
"Plenty more, sir."
"So, 33, I heard through the grapevine you've got a name now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Care to share?"
"It's Trick."
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Trick."
"And you, Hawks."
"Sir, I gotta disagree with this line of attack—"
"Are you questioning my judgement?"
It hadn't been the first time Hawks had been so-called brazen enough to answer back to Krell. Or question his direct order. Or even go completely against it in the middle of a mission, but the way Krell's tone had turned to ice this time around made Trick wonder if Hawks had finally pushed the Jedi over the edge. Although labeling Krell a 'Jedi' was becoming harder and harder to believe considering the Besalik's unpredictable anger and his brutality behind closed doors when nobody was looking.
Hawks had tried to take the brunt of it when and where he could. Covering for his men's mistakes, lies rolling easily on his tongue. If Krell knew, he never bothered to show it. Maybe he didn't care. He didn't care enough about his own men, what made Hawks any different? (Human. Because he was human. If a clone had answered back even a quarter of the time Hawks had, they would likely be dead by now).
"I'm not saying your plan isn't a sound one," It was suicide. Anyone with eyes could see that it was. An entire company against a fortress? Hawks was lucky, but even their luck would run out eventually. "But there's gotta be a better way than what you're suggesting."
"Your job is to listen to my orders."
"My job is to serve the Republic and protect my men to the best of my ability."
Krell advanced to the Captain, almost slithering like some slimy serpent as he stood at his full height over Hawks in an attempt to intimidate him. Hawks stood straighter, staring unblinking into his General's eyes. They stood there for a few moments, neither backing down.
"Your men are clones. And while you're under my command, you serve the Republic. Remember your place is beneath me, soldier." Krell finally growled, everything in the room trembling in a mixture of anticipation and whatever Force osik the Jedi was wielding.
"It's Captain." Hawks spat without missing a beat— but Trick's heart definitely missed several when the Besalisk stopped and slowly turned back to the human, distaste so thick in the air everyone could practically taste it.
"What did you say?" Krell hissed, his entire face pulled back into a snarl.
Trick's fingers twitched and he must have made some form of movement forward because Sabertooth nudged him in the side to stop his advance. Trick looked over to his brother, who minutely shook his head. Had Krell's attention not been entirely directed at his second in command, the gesture alone could have resulted in the both of them being punished. Trick clenched his fists and waited for the inevitable to happen.
"It's Captain, sir."
Trick wanted to close his eyes. He could hear the nails hammering into Hawks' coffin— or maybe that was the deafening thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.
"Sir, you have a transmission from the Jedi council."
Trick released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, more than grateful for the sudden distraction.
"Leave me." Krell turned away, intending to answer the transmission swiftly. If only the Jedi Council knew what had transpired— what they prevented by their untimely request. Or maybe they knew about Krell's temper and just chose to ignore it, like they did with their clone slaves.
One by one, the soldiers filed out of the room to give Krell privacy, Hawks holding back until every last one of his men were out of the room.
"Don't think I'll easily forget your impertinence, Captain," The title was said with a sneer, like it was some kind of insult. "You and I will have a conversation upon your return from Antine."
"I don't doubt that, sir."
Hawks let the doors slide shut behind him.
Antine was a disaster.
Gone— his brothers were gone.
No— no, not all. There were still some left— Sabertooth. A couple of shinies (how many? how many shinies had been lost?), some others. And Hawks. They had believed in him. They all had— and he led them to a slaughter.
… no. That wasn't right.
He was following orders.
Good soldiers follow orders.
That was all they wanted to be— all they wanted to do. What Hawks wanted to do. He was as much a victim as his brothers were.
Just as—
"Captain, watch out! —Hawks!"
Burning. His face and chest was burning. Like someone had thrown acid over him and then salt for good measure. Kriff— Hawks. Was Hawks okay? He'd pushed them out of the way last minute, had they—
"Easy, easy, Trick." A hand on his shoulder, his left one. Oh. Because his right felt just as bad as his face. "Don't open your eyes, just relax. Medic!"
'Just relax' they say as their increasingly desperate yells for a medic fill his ears and then begin to fade into the distance. Hawks was there, protecting him. Hawks always did.
"You're— you'll be okay, Trick, you're gonna be just fine— hey, no, no , don't go to sleep yet— Trick? Trick?!"
Trick seldom took off his helmet. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't as though he was ashamed of how he looked. Especially after he had shoved Hawks out of the way and saved his life. He had no shame about the scar he carried, proof of what he had done to keep his Captain breathing. There was little to be ashamed about when he shared the exact same face (more or less) with at least 6 million other clones. At last estimate though, it may have been closer to 10 million, but who was counting? They'd lost so many of their brothers since the war began that it was likely nobody was keeping track anymore.
But Krell had said at one point that he despised looking at his face. Not specifically Trick's face, likely more clones' in general. If anything, he had more of an issue with Prime's face.
The fact of the matter was that Trick had his helmet on more often than not because it made him feel safer. The Den was safe enough, don't get him wrong, despite their lack of stable finances, Hawks always put his team's safety above all else. Just another thing that Trick could only admire about his Captain, even before— when they were fighting properly for the Republic. Before Antine.
Trick knew that Hawks carried a lot of guilt about what happened. About the lives that were lost. Ultimately, it wasn't Hawks' fault. Despite what the Republic— Tarkin specifically had spat at the man. He was no disgrace. He did his best with the hand he was given, it just so happened to be from Krell. And, last Trick heard, the bastard had been shot by a clone for going traitor. He'd been there when Hawks had heard the news too. Watched how he clenched his teeth, his hands griping tight onto the holo table as the report was read out. A report that they only knew about courtesy of Kabb.
Captain Rex's figure illuminated the dark space, bucket held to his side as he explained his account of what happened on that forsaken planet.
'—neral Krell, previously of the Jedi Order, turned traitor. His actions caused the deaths of hundreds of brothers. CT-6922, also known as Dogma, fired a single shot into General Krell's back, killing him. Dogma has since been…'
The feed flickered, but Trick knew Rex had paused to compose himself. Even though it was a hologram, he saw the way Rex's fingers tightened around his helmet.
'Dogma has since been returned to Kamino and decommissioned. While Krell…'
Rex did pause this time, eyes flickering to someone off screen. His jaw clenched.
'General Krell—'
"Turn the feed off, Papa, I don't wanna see this." Hawks spat, no doubt offended that the traitor still kept his status, even in death, when Hawks was stripped of everything he had under his orders?
"Hawks—" Trick began, reaching out to touch Hawks' shoulder but pausing when he didn't entirely know how well received it would be.
"After everything he did, he's still called a General! He betrayed the Republic. He killed thousands of good men— brothers! He didn't even see them as people! And Dogma got punished for it?!"
Hawks continued ranting and raving. Kabb and Trick exchanged looks but ultimately didn't say anything and allowed Hawks his anger. It was the most emotion that Tricks had seen his Captain ever show and, in some way, it was healthy to let him have this. Cursing up a storm as he was that even Runa and Neesh had to poke their heads into the room to make sure Hawks wasn't loosing it yelling about dehumanisation and the clones.
Needless to say, Trick liked Hawks for a lot of different reasons. Very much so.
Hawks liked Trick. That was pretty obvious to begin with. He wouldn't have faked the paperwork if he didn't. Wouldn't have asked the clone to join Zero Company 2.0 the second he could and whisked him away from a life of cleaner duty. So yes, Hawks liked Trick and everyone knew that. Or maybe they knew a little more than he did.
Hawks walked out of their office, idly reading through a datapad with the latest bundle of missions. Retrievals, a couple of rescues, a recon, he hadn't seen this many contracts at once before. He supposed Bennic and Jae were to thank for Zero's success. If they hadn't come to him… well, there was little point in thinking about the what ifs, he had missions to plan.
Hawks checked in with the closest operators regularly, quiet conversations shared between them before their next contract. They were all good people— and Hawks couldn't have been prouder of them, of how far they had come. Some more than others, he'd admit, but Tel-Rea was a case of her own. She was just a kid, even though she desperately tried to deny it. Masterless, and only a padawan, but by no means useless. But she was just so kriffing young. It pained him to take her on missions despite her insistence. She was capable of course, maybe even more so than half of them combined, but she was still a child. A teen, sure, but a child nonetheless.. She should be at the temple with other kids her age, making friends, memories. Not the ins and outs of the battlefield. Not how many hits she could take before she went down.
"Anything new, Trick?" Hawks prompted as he sidled beside the clone in question hunched over the holotable, brushing their shoulders together a little roughly. Trick took the push in his stride, pushing back. Hawks didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling beneath his bucket.
"Well, the 'fresher got blocked again this morning. Nobody's owning up to it, and someone else blamed one of the mechs."
"Anything other than the 'fresher being blocked for the third time this week?"
"Nothing exciting, sir."
"Alright, I'll leave you to it."
"In a bit, Cap." Hawks gave Trick a sidelong squeeze and left him to what he was doing. Trick claimed it was scanning the map for their next mission's destination, but Kabb had helpfully reported that Trick was looking up sabacc tactics when he thought nobody was looking.
Luco was their newest arrival. Curt, a little on the serious side, but someone that Hawks could respect. His skill spoke for itself, after all, even through the grief of losing his… partner? Wife? The way he talked about her they may as well have been married. Hawks still remembered the scream from Luco when he had found Rhy dead. They felt for him. The Umbaran seemed to be settling in well enough though despite his loss, chatting and mingling where appropriate. Understandably, he avoided Trick like the plague, and Trick likewise.
Like Hawks however, there was mutual respect between them. Opposite side in conflict, but both skilled in their own right. It was all Hawks could ask for so they didn't go for each other's throats in the night. He had just finished speaking with Kabb and had began a brisk saunter over to the medbay when he noticed M-3VO's head tilted in a way that prompted potential useful conversation about their progress on the virus. Or whatever else they were studying in their spare time.
"Be sure to use protection." M-3VO unhelpfully prompted as soon as Hawks was within earshot. He paused and stared at the droid in confusion. If they had a face, he knows it would have been pulled into some smug expression, like they were in on a joke that Hawks wasn't.
"Uh, yeah, Neesh got us all armoured up. We're good to go."
"That's not the kind of protection I was insinuating."
"… my blaster? Meevo, I don't know what you're trying to imply here. Care to fill me in?"
"Should I be adding birth control to the next shipment? Are either of you capable of getting pregnant? And what of sexual health education? Do you think the Kaminoans provided such to the clones when they were decanted?"
"Whoa, whoa, there." Hawks held up his hands, chuckling nervously as a flush spread on his cheeks. Runa looked up from her screen in growing interest and the last thing he wanted was a conversation with her about that. "I've no idea what you're talking about or where that came from, but I don't wanna know. Any questions like that, you can ask Trick himself."
"Is that not something that you beings engage in?" The droid waved a dismissive hand in a frighteningly human-like gesture. It made Hawks wonder how much they had picked up from the others.
"Engage in?"
"Coitus. Love-making. Sex. Inserting one's sexual organs into an oriph—"
"Absolutely not, not doing this."
They could feel Bennic's eyes on them now and Hawks tried his very best not to flush even more like some… virgin.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, it's not uncommon for humans of your age—"
He walked off before M-3VO could continue whatever point they were trying to make. Hawks also pointedly ignored it when Runa stomped her way over to the droid, she seemed like she was telling him off for… whatever. Hawks didn't want to know. When he overheard M-3VO bringing up the same topic to a startled Trick a few hours later, Hawks threw a shoe at them.
"Enough, Meevo!"
"— and once we've retrieved the intel, this would probably be the best place to get picked up."
Hawks knows he should probably be watching at wherever Trick was pointing on the map. And he would! Just… in a minute. When he was finished staring at Trick's bare face. The clone took his helmet off sometimes, of course he did, he needed to eat and sleep sometimes, but the light from the hologram illuminated his face in a way that Hawks had never noticed before. He looked… luminescent if that was a description Hawks could use for him. His gaze landed on the scar over the right side of Trick's face and idly, they wondered if it still bothered him. He'd reassured them several times over the years since he saved their life that the scar was fine and whatever damage that lingered was minimal.
Looking at it more now, Hawks always wondered why they were taken off of active duty. The injury was severe, yes, on both his face and his shoulder, but it was recoverable in time. Time. Not many clones were given that luxury. Or bacta for that matter. Hawks remembered needing to buy some with his own credits (a nice, minuscule parting gift from the Republic after he was thrown out) to help ease Trick's recovery. Had to pay someone else to smuggle it in when he wasn't allowed to see his own soldiers. What was left of them. Krell liked to remind him that he could count who was left on two of his hands. Asshole.
"Captain?" Just like that, the trance was broken and Hawks realised that he had been caught blatantly staring at his second's face. They cleared their throat, looking away.
"Sorry, yeah, no, I got it. Pickup by the west building."
Trick was looking at him a funny way, head tilted in… what? Curiosity? Amusement? Hawks couldn't place it.
"… Captain." Trick repeated. He sounded softer. Hopeful. But that couldn't be right because he was looking at Hawks.
"Kriff— sorry, I wasn't, I didn't mean…"
"Captain." He second said a third time and Hawks found the strength to look back up, actually look Trick in the face and the uncomfortable atmosphere of Hawks' own making. What they didn't expect, though, was the… softness? Endearment? Honestly, Trick was looking at him in the same way as that one time Hawks had walked up to him after a mission, holding a slightly injured loth-cat. So endearment was probably not too far off.
Hawks found his gaze slowly trailing downward, to the bow of Trick's lips. Very kissable lips, he might add. Beautiful, like almost every other part of—
"I want you to stop me, Trick." Hawks whispered, breathless and heart hammering against his ribcage like it wanted out.
"Is that an order, Captain?"
"Never."
Trick closed the gap. When their lips met, it was like everything wrong in the world had suddenly fixed itself. Not really, but if he told any of the others that they would have just said it was only because he needed to get laid. M-3VO especially. They may have been partially correct. The kiss must have only been a couple of seconds at most, but it was perfect, and it was a struggle to pull away from. They parted, resting their foreheads against one another's. Hawks felt like a teenager again, sneaking in their first kiss when nobody was looking.
Trick didn't say anything— just stared just like Hawks did. It didn't look like he was regretting it. Was he? Kriff. Hawks was his commanding officer, had he just taken advantage of him?
"Think the head injury got the better of me, sir, you might need to do that again." Trick said when they caught their breath and Hawks soared.
"Happy to oblige."
They kissed again, Hawks tilting his head to deepen it and—
"The Baroness owes me fifty credits." Bennic said from the doorway.
"Neesh owes me three hundred." Tel-Rea replied, also from the very open doorway that Hawks was almost positive he had locked.
Hawks had a moment to consider pulling away entirely from Trick's embrace, but was hit with a much better idea. Kriffing nosy bastards could get blinded for all he cared.
"Do you trust me?" He whispered to Trick in the small space between them.
"Always."
Hawks' hand unashamedly found Trick's rear end, squeezing in full view of the others when he turned them around— and then leaned back across his own desk with Trick's body between their own parted legs. The surprised gasp that the clone made was thankfully lost in the kiss.
There was a satisfying collection of groaning and gagging.
"Ew." Tel huffed, immediately walking away.
"Get a room!" Runa groaned, making a show of covering her eyes. They weren't even naked! Well, give it a few minutes…
"I have a room, it's just that all of you are in it."
The inquisition parted, all in various levels of disgust and happiness if the clinking of credits was anything to go by. Luco remained though, staring at the two of them in silence paired with a fond look. Eventually, he nodded as if making up his mind.
"… until the last star burns out." He whispered, and then departed himself. They must have reminded him of Rhy, in a way. Hawks would need to remember to check up on him later. For now…
"Well." Hawks said, nodding slowly. "Seemed like everyone knew something that we didn't."
"… yeah." Tricks nodded, still staring down at Hawks' lips as though it was water and he was parched.
"… my office is sound-proof, by the way."
"Is it, now?"
"Last I checked."
"I feel like we have to test that…"
Hawks laughed when Trick tossed him gently in the vague direction of the couch.