Blue Sounds Like A Beautiful Color

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38513596

Another one on ao3!!!!

Ruined, Or Not

“Jesse, so help me….” Rex was the image of stoicism, but his facial muscles were pulled so tight they ached.

General Skywalker snorted, clearly against his original intentions, and scrambled to cover the slip with a halfhearted representation of the typical placid Jedi face. Unfortunately, Rex knew his commanding officer far too well. The man was anything but sedate.

If Rex hadn’t known better - hadn’t seen him dismember entire squadrons of droids without even having to think about it - he’d have assumed the general was a shiny long ago.

And Jesse just grinned wider, the damage done.

From across the room, with the medics, Kix was already giving him a death glare. Hardcase, to Jesse’s left, shook with repressed laughter, his face morphing to a rainbow of colors that Rex was determined to not find even close to funny right now.

“Three….two….one….” the photographer called.

Fives lost it first. And the legion was doomed from there.

*******

“I’m sorry, but that is priceless!” Padmé dissolved into laughter, holding the holopic aloft. “May I keep it?”

And Rex had to smile.

The photo was a disaster. GAR command was not pleased. But if they were looking for an “accurate representation of your legion”, they really weren’t going to get more accurate than this.

They were all laughing, in hysterics from row to row. Hands froze where they found brothers’ backs, arms rested around best friends’ backs, and there wasn’t a single face that wasn’t painted in layers of exuberance. Their smile lines dug into their faces, their hair swept carelessly out of the way, their tattoos and the paintings on their armor beaming under the lights.

Even Skywalker had been roaring with laughter, Ahsoka doubled over next to him gasping for breath. And Rex stood in the middle of it all, his fingers strewn across his face in complete and utter hopelessness.

“You’d want to?”

“Of course!” Padmé’s smile softened. “So often we dehumanize and take for granted who you are. I wish everyone could see this kind of joy.”

Rex sighed. “It’s a terrible picture.”

“Well. I must disagree, captain.” She looked down at it again, bathing her features in blue as her smile crept forward again. “Aren’t you glad they can laugh like this?”

The crinkles by Kix’s eyes. The elation on Fives’s face. Echo, laughing so hard tears leaked down his cheeks. Jesse grinning so wide his lips hurt. Hardcase, cackling uncontrollably and gasping for a breath. The shinies, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, giggling together like they finally believed they belonged.

Yeah, by the GAR’s standards, the picture was ruined.

But all Rex had ever wanted was for them to forget their burdens, for a second.

“Yeah,” he said, and something scratched in the back of his throat. Padmé turned her gaze back to him, one side of her mouth turning almost furtively upwards. It was warm. Caring. There was something steady in it, something sure.

“Yeah,” Rex rasped again. Like he could still feel the unhinged chortles he’d tried so hard to hide.

Now, he wished he hadn’t.

*******

Awwwwwh, Rex.

My headcanon is that Padmé and Rex have a lil moment during switch day. She comes across the angry message from GAR command, convinces Rex to show her the offense, and is enraptured. They're all her babies.

I was a little unsure about writing a "Family Picture" for @clonetober, but once I got going I think it went okay! In this case, it's a bit of a curse to be a writer instead of an artist. I wish I could have this image for myself - but a mental picture will have to do.

They're okay, Rex.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, CC-1010 | Fox, CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-5052 | Bly, Alpha-17 (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Crack, i guess, there is not a trace of hurt in here, Alpha-17 is a tired dad, his cadets don’t give him any breaks, cody and his squad kidnapped rex i don’t make the rules, brothers being brothers Summary:

Inspections are coming up. They have absolutely nothing to hide. Nope. Not a thing. What do you mean there’s someone hiding? You should get your head checked. Alpha-17 just wants a break from his cadets. Only once.

 Curses, Cocoons and Clones: prologue.

Yes this a ANOTHER version of the Moth Au. BUT it’s so cool so I can help myself >:D

The 501st and the 212th for once seem to have luck on their side.

Sure, General Kenobi would argue it was the will of the Force, but honestly Rex didn’t give two shits about what the force did as long there was results.

The recent battles have been better with the campaigns lasting short and they getting their victory swiftly.

Cody although, was uneasy. He had pulled Rex and a few other men to prepare for the worse. Rex was thankful that Cody’s cautious nature have saved many life’s of the Vode but he wished that he would enjoy the quiet. Nevertheless he did not argue with Cody.

Their newest mission was a few of the 501st and 212th was to aid the cleanup of a battlefield that happened on a planet near the Outer rim. The senator of that planet was a stuck-up pain in the ass. However his planet was near an important hyper-space route that the Republic could not afford to lose. So here was Rex and his men riffing through the hot and muggy forest thigh deep in muck.

Commander Ahsoka Tano and General Kenobi were in the lead with the men in tow. The Commander was voicing the complaints of Rex and the others to The General who seem seem to on the fence to be amused and exasperated.

Rex wondered to himself on how that man deals with Skywalker and Tano as a duo. Force knowns how how many times he’s been thrown with their force abilities. He respects him for dealing with one and one-in-training adrenaline addict.

“Sir we are picking up a structure up ahead.” Kix who had hauled himself on a tree into order to get some signal. “There looks like a storm is coming up, so we should probably hold up in there for now.” The general said tiredly. Indeed the fog was uncomfortably thick and it seeped into the cracks of Rex’s armor soaking his blacks. Ahsoka and some of the men perked up that idea.

The hike up to the building was longer then anticipated. Jessie, tripped over a lose root and fell on top of Kix causing them both to be soaked to the bone in mud. Fives and Ahsoka managed to get their shoes stuck and had to fish them out. The rain started earlier then what the radar had signaled. By the time they got there, everything and everyone was covered in a thin layer of mud and wet saved for Kix who landed facefirst when Jessie pushed him.

The building was old made of cracked stone with vines growing of them. Rex noted that the wood that lined the structure was made of living trees growing into the infrastructure. “Interesting.”General Kenobi mused touching the wall. “What is sir?” Rex asked,

“This place…. Feels like an old temple”

“I feel it too.“ Ahsoka chimed in “it’s feels like that temple on the mission with the-“

“I thought we agreed not to discuss that mission-“

“Where Master Obi Wan got stuck dealing with an oversized bird that chased him into a tree and Anakin tried to help only for him to have to climb up that tree.” She finished attempting to hide a grin. Kenobi sighed and half heartedly rolled his eyes.

“If I remember correctly, you also were on that tree by the end of that mission.”

Rex zoned out as they chattered. There was a weird feeling in his gut that something was going to happen. Maybe it was the writings on the walls, or maybe it was the creaking of the trees that almost sounded like whispers either way he was sure the 501st’s winning streak had just ran out.

or: what if "getting her way" was glinda's magic?

///

It was a known fact of the universe, that Galinda Arduenna Upland of the Upper Uplands was undeniably, miraculously, wickedly lucky. 

Fate loved her. In all things, Galinda Upland always came out on top, no matter the odds. She won every bet, she was granted every wish, she never met a hardship she couldn’t overcome. She floated through life knowing her tea would never spill and her feet would never trip and her hair would never look anything less than perfect. 

She was never late. Her shower was always hot. She won every dice and card and guessing game. She found diamonds in the dusty sidewalks, grew flowers in shadows and sand, and never had a nail chip or a dress rip. Her nona used to say she was blessed, a little luck child, dipped in stardust and destined to always shine. 

And shine Galinda did. She was beloved by all who met her, never having to ask more than once for things to go her way. She was just lucky. 

Until, of course, she wasn’t. The first time she noticed it was her very first day of school at Shiz University. Galinda had hustled up to talk to Madame Morrible--the Madame Morrible!--to discuss her entry into the woman’s famous sorcery seminar. She had been a little late and lazy on her essay, but she was confident. 

She was always confident. 

So imagine her surprise when Morrible told her no. No?! That never happened. 

Galinda shook it off, though. Perhaps it was just…a slip-up. Perhaps Morrible was distracted and she’d apologize later and let Galinda know that of course she was enrolled in sorcery. Galinda had shook it off, until of course she was almost flattened by a bench being thrown through the air!

Galinda had felt fear, real fear, for one of the first times in her life. She’d stumbled back on unsteady feet, nearly falling into ShenShen behind her. Then when the dust had settled and that awful green girl was talking to Morrible, Galinda had tried to simply walk over and she’d tripped! 

Galinda. Tripped. 

And to top it all off? Now she was saddled with that awful green girl as a roommate. 

Galinda stood there, gaping as Elphaba walked off. Because you see- it’s not that Galinda hadn’t had small bouts of bad luck over the years. There had been a few times when things hadn’t gone quite as well as they could have. Times when Galinda didn’t quite think she got everything she wanted. 

But even in those moments, it wasn’t really her being unlucky so much as it was her being a little less lucky than normal. This, though? This was undoubtedly unlucky. 

Galinda’s heart pounded and her ears rang. This…wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. 

“What happened?” her friends asked, equally bewildered. 

Galinda only had one thing she could say. “Something is very wrong,” she declared. Her eyes followed Elphaba and Morrible as they walked away from her. Heat pooled under her skin as some unrecognizable feeling started boiling in her veins. 

“I didn’t get my way.”

Right Hands of the Republic

Summary: Sabé and Rex have the worst jobs in the world.

Pairing: Background Anidala

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: None

Authors Note: It’s finally done! After months of inactivity! Big thanks to @transfetts for helping me edit this one! And a special shout out to @royalhandmaidens for helping me run with this idea, and being an incredible person to bounce off of ❤️

In all honesty, Sabé wasn’t sure if her day could get any worse.

Her life had been threatened before. That was easy to deal with. She had played the seven-string hallikset in front of millions of people. That was also easy, although in a different way. Sabé had fought the Battle for Naboo in the most uncomfortable outfit she’d ever worn, with a headpiece that weighed down her neck and made her look like a child wearing an oversized bonnet.

But standing here. Looking like an idiot next to the stiffest Trooper she had ever met? Today definitely took the cake as the worst day of Sabé’s life.

Sabé had never actually met a Clone Trooper before. Sure they were everywhere on Coruscant, they were practically everywhere in the universe, but Sabé had never actually met one before. The Coruscant guard didn’t really talk much, and she had only ever interacted with them as Padmé, not as Sabé.

But as soon as she saw Anakin and his trooper outside Padmé’s senate chamber, Sabé knew she would be spending some quality time with a Clone.

“General Skywalker,” Padmé started, and even with her hood covering her eyes, Sabé could practically see that dreamy look in Padmé’s gaze. Ugh. “How unexpected.”

Anakin wasn’t supposed to be back for weeks. He had returned from Umbara after a misunderstanding on the battlefield. Rumor had it that the GAR had suffered immense casualties and every available Jedi had been needed to finish the assault. Sabé wasn’t sure what was propaganda and what was the truth yet, but it seemed messy regardless.

And yet here Anakin was anyway. Sauntering through the senate halls as if nothing had happened and he wasn’t keeping the galaxy's biggest secret.

“Well you know how it is,” He says with a smirk, “I bring word from the Frontlines. I was hoping I could give you an update on our progress.”

What he really meant was, “We should both neglect our responsibilities and make out in your office and make Sabé super uncomfortable.” Or at least, that’s how Sabé heard it.

Playing third wheel was bad enough, but playing third wheel to a secret marriage between the dumbest Jedi and her best friend was possibly the worst way to spend an afternoon.

“Ani, you know I-“ Padmé starts, but he interrupts.

“Just a moment of your time senator,” He grabs at her hands gently, holding them near his chest. “Please?”

And Sabé knows then that Padmé is sold.

“Alright,” Padmé sighs, but she’s smiling. A lovesick type of grin that spreads warmly across her face. “Sabé, would you mind waiting here for a moment?”

“As you wish M’lady.” Sabé says. She actually did mind. A lot. But doing things she didn’t want to do was part of the job.

My hands are yours.

“Rex, why don’t you keep Sabé company for a bit? I’ll be right back.” Anakin winked as if to say “I won’t be right back”.

It took all of her Amidala training to hold back the eye roll.

And thus they stood.

And stood.

And stood.

Being a handmaiden meant a lot of standing around and waiting quietly. Standing behind Padmé as she addressed the Senate. Standing behind Queen Amidala as she addressed the senate.

It was a lot of senate and a lot of standing still. Sabé didn’t mind that. She liked listening and observing. What Sabé didn’t like was listening to her best friend fawn over a Jedi while she waited outside with a stranger.

Although the stranger probably didn’t like hanging around with her either.

Captain Rex hadn’t moved once. Hadn’t even addressed her. He stood at attention, armor faded and dented as he gazed silently ahead. He looked like he had seen better days. The paint was chipping off his arm brace and there was ash on his chest plate.

They must have gone straight for the senate building as soon as they had returned.

He was probably just as exhausted as her. And frustrated. Sabé let out a silent sigh. She was being unfair again. Not liking Anakin shouldn’t mean not liking his trooper.

So, Sabé takes a deep breath, without even moving, and tries to apply that “warmth” Yané always tried to teach her.

“So, see any good holovids latey?” Is the only thing she can think to say. Padme was a master at conversation, and although she had spent almost eight years imitating her, that was the one trait Sabé could not crack.

“I don’t have time off to watch Holovids.” His voice is mechanical under his mask, crisp and echoing.

It wasn’t like they were trying to be subtle or anything.

“Oh.” Is all Sabé says before they fall back into an uncomfortable silence. He seems to pity her though, for Captain Rex tries to start up conversation again after a few moments.

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

As if it is the will of the Force, suddenly there's laughter coming from Padmé’s chambers.

“No.” Sabé responds.

And suddenly there’s a crash, like a window shattering.

Forgetting her formalities, or her own embarrassment, Sabé instantly turns and slams into the door, forcing it open. The Captain is right behind her, blaster drawn. He almost runs right into her.

Padmé and Anakin are staring out a window. Anakin is leaning out, as if trying to see something. Padmé turns.

“Sabé. It was a reporter. I left my window open.”

Her heart drops.

Reporter. Open window. Secret affair.

Ruin.

Anakin seems much less panicked than Padmé, straightening himself and shutting the blinds. He looks… relieved? But Sabé has no time to untangle the map of his soul right now.

“What did he look like?” She asks firmly. There was little time for her to act, and she couldn’t waste a second.

“Dark hair, silver speeder bike. He was wearing a blue media jacket. Heading down to the lower levels.”

“Understood.” Sabé turns instantly, already planning the best route in her head. He would have had to take-

“Now wait just a minute.” Anakin. A minute is not something we have, Sabé wants to yell, but she keeps silent. “I’m not going to let Sabé go alone. She’ll never be able to catch that guy by herself.”

Yes I could. Sabé thinks. But still she keeps silent.

“Rex. Accompany Sabé. I want both of you back before we ship out.”

“Understood Sir.” The Captain stands at attention before quickly turning to Sabé.

Great. The one thing worse than being slowed down by Anakin, was being slowed down by his right hand. He had no idea how she operated. And he stuck out like-

Well he stuck out just as bad as a velvet robbed handmaiden.

“Whatever you wish, m'lady.” Sabé says, secretly hoping Padmé will side with her and deny Rex. But of course, she doesn’t.

“It would be helpful to have another person come along.” Padmé says instead, “Just hurry.”

Sabé gives a soft bow before turning on her heel and racing out of the room, the sound of clanking armor following her the whole way.

The Naboo garage was filled with glimmering starships and speeders. Sabé’s personal speeder was not counted among them.

“I’m driving,” Sabé says as she turns on the machine. “You can sit behind me.”

“Right.” He clearly didn’t like handing off leadership, but it seemed he was wise enough to take the metaphorical and literal backseat when he had to. The engine of her speeder roars to life as Sabé settles in the front with Rex quickly following suit.

“You’ll be able to see better than me if you use your scanner to try and spot him,” Sabé yells over the engine.

Her hair was wiping wildly now, flying loose from her hood and into her eyeline. What she would give for a hairpin.

“He’s probably klicks away by now.” Rex says, and Sabé hears the mechanical clinking of his rangefinder shifting into place as he scans the city.

“That’s why I asked you to use your bucket, genius.” Sabé says before pulling into the busy skylanes.

Sabé didn’t like Coruscant. It was too busy, with too many people and too much pollution. And the Underworld was the worst part. Between the smell of burning fuel, the rattling metal and the horrid smell of endless garbage disposals, everything about it made her skin crawl.

But whatever Padmé asked, Sabé would follow through.

“You seem to know your way around.” Rex says.

“I make it my business to know.” She replies. Just because Padmé wanted Anakin’s clone to tag around did not mean Sabé had to like it.

“Right.”

They fall into the motion of the city. With the wind tugging her hair loose and ringing in her ears, Sabé almost misses Rex’s shout.

“I found him! There!” He points over to her left. The reporter in question is six lanes over, blue jacket whipping wildly in the wind. Camera strap around his neck.

“Hang on!” She yells, before pulling a completely illegal six lane change.

Pulling up as close as she can, Sabé tries to settle herself even with the reporter, bikes side by side.

“Pull over and give me that camera!” Sabé yells, and the reporter turns to her with a wild look.

“On whose authority?” The reporter yells back.

“The Grand Army of the Republic.” Rex doesn’t yell, but the speakers in his helmet amplify his voice enough to be heard over. Sabé wasn’t exactly sure they were officially acting on behalf of the GAR, but it seemed to scare the reporter enough to give him pause.

“You’re in possession of private property!”

“I’m in possession of the story of the century!”

“Like hell you are!” Sabé screams.

He was drifting dangerously close now, his bike almost brushing hers. Normally, the auto navigation system would prevent them from getting this close to another vehicle, but Sabé had rewired it months ago in favor of more subtle routes.

He’s still yelling at her about “stories of the age” and “secret affairs” as she reaches out with her right hand and tries to grab his camera. He pulls back, but he could only move so much with both hands on the handle.

Almost-

And suddenly Sabé’s right hand slips off the steering.

And everything moves in slow motion.

Sabé’s bike tilts left, falling straight into the reporter’s. There’s a crunch from her bike, and the engine spits fire and sparks. The speeders are locked together now, her pedals caught in his.

The reporter has this terrified look on his face, and Sabé seizes that split second and rips the camera off the chain around his neck.

And then her bike falls.

And she falls.

And Rex falls right after her.

In the back of her mind, Sabé vaguely hears Rex yelling something along the lines of, “not again” but all she was really processing, was that she was falling to her death.

But instead of dying, Sabé finds her fall cut short as she crashes into a large speeder hood.

The group inside gasps in horror, and reaching as fast as she can, Sabé tries to grasp at the driver's hand, or the windshield or anything, but within an instant, she slips right off. Her sleeve catches on the side of the vehicle and tears in half as she falls again.

And lands directly onto another speeder.

This one is smaller, and buckles under her weight. Dripping off the skylane. The driver lets out a scream, and shakes her bike.

“I won’t be robbed by some crazy lunatic!” She cries.

“I’m not trying to rob you!” Sabé yells over the commotion.

“Liar!” The driver screams, and keeps shaking her bike. Sabé’s grip slips, and she can feel herself falling.

“Stop, stop! I just want to get down!” She manages. But the driver won’t hear it, and gives the bike one hard shake.

And Sabé is falling again, but the fall is quick, as she lands straight into a dumpster.

Despite the gross cushioning, Sabé hits the bottom of the bin with a sick crack, and instantly knows she won’t be sleeping on her left side for a while.

Ow.

Against the will of her body, Sabé pushes herself up and stands. She had to find that reporter, and she had to get out of that terrible, terrible smell.

Climbing over the edge of the bin shouldn’t have been hard, normally Sabé could have scaled a wall in seconds. But her vision was slightly blurred, and not being able to use her left shoulder was a hindrance. Standing on trash bags, Sabé boosts herself over the edge and stumbles out and onto the alley floor.

Her dress is in shambles. The left sleeve had ripped clean off, as had her hood. The once perfect ombré is now stained with mysterious green and brown liquid from the dumpster. Not to mention the pieces of trash that got stuck to the velvet.

Sabé knows her hair is flying free now and dreads the thought of her reflection. If her grease stained and scratched hands are any indication, she isn’t pretty.

Rex is laying on the ground a few feet away, trying to push himself off his stomach. His pauldron has a crack down the middle and several small pieces of his armor are missing. And so is his helmet.

Rex has a thin cut across his face, spanning from his left eyebrow to his chin.

He looks.

Really young.

Younger than she had expected.

It was probably foolish of her to assume he was older than her, Sabé knew most clones were only around ten, with accelerated growth. But she had always assumed he would look like her father or something. All grey and set lines. But Rex appeared no older than Sabé herself. Sure he had a giant cut across his face right now, but she could see past that.

He looks like a kid. Well, teenager. Well. He looked her age. But still. Young.

Too young.

Sabé supposes to most people he would seem handsome. Maybe in a boyish way, that would make the school girls on Naboo giggle, but to Sabé he just looks like-

Like a boy, covered in dirt, who really didn’t want to be here.

“Did you see where the reporter fell?” Sabé asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks, and she can feel an invisible weight sitting on her lungs. Her left rib is definitely cracked.

“No.” He groans. Without his helmet, Rex’s voice was drastically different. “But he can’t have gotten far.”

Sabé studies around them, Rex was right, the reporter couldn’t have fallen that much farther than they had, their bikes were practically locked together-

There.

Crawling off a trash heap, the reporter looks just as stunned as Sabé feels. Although she hoped she was holding it together better.

“Stop!” She shouts.

Sabé groans, and despite her aching limbs, she runs after him. He’s not fast, but in her current condition, neither is she.

Stumbling loosely, Sabé runs until they’re side by side. She doesn’t have enough energy to even yell at this point, so instead she reaches out for the camera and almost-

Suddenly Sabé feels a sharp tug on her hem, and she’s janked backwards, stumbling into Rex. He yelps, and they both tumble onto the pavement.

“I had him!” Sabé says sharply, pushing Rex aside. Red flames tug at her vision.

She just wants to go home. This was stupid, and she had better things to do. And why would Padmé make her run around with some knockoff Anakin-

“I’m sorry.” Rex says. “I guess I’m not quite used to your fighting techniques. I should have been paying closer attention.”

“Oh.”

Maker, she was an idiot.

Rex isn’t Anakin, and this wasn’t his fault. She is a spy and he is a soldier. And while she was playing lone wolf, he was trying to offer support, and she had ignored him.

Maker.

“No I-“ Sabé pauses, and looks at him. “That was my fault.” She can’t find any other words, and mercifully, Rex seems to accept her half apology and changes the subject.

“Fighting General Grievous was easier than this.” He mumbles under his breath.

“You’ve fought General Grievous?” Sabé says.

“Yeah, and it hurt less.”

They both pause. They had crossed a bridge. Both of them serve as the right hands of the ridiculous people they love but can’t see past the end of their noses.

And they’re both exhausted.

He laughs then. It’s an overtired laugh interrupted by a harsh cough, but it’s a laugh. And it makes Sabé laugh too.

In the dim streetlights, Sabé lets herself breathe. And relax.

“This is ridiculous!” She says suddenly, muffled between coughing giggles. “We look ridiculous, and this mission is ridiculous and our friends are ridiculous.”

With a huffed laugh, Rex forces himself to stand, and offers Sabé his hand.

“Let’s get him this time.”

As it turns out, they don’t have to look far. Less than two klicks away, the reporter stands over a garbage can, vomiting. Camera held limply around his neck.

“Surrender your camera, or face the consequences.” Rex says, standing over the reporter as he hurls. He sounds so serious, Sabé tries not to laugh.

“Just take it.” The man mumbles. “Dear maker, just take the kriffing camera.” Reaching around his neck, the reporter unclips his camera and holds it out limply.

Sabé reaches forward and rips it from his hands, cradling it to her chest.

“Thank you for your service, citizen.” Rex finishes, nodding his head politely.

“Whatever.” The man mumbles, “Just leave me alone.”

“All this for a holo.” Rex says. He’s got a playful tone, despite his knee guard missing and all the pieces of trash in his hair.

But Sabé ignores his quip, and wanders to a more secluded part of the alley. She scrolls through the memory files, passing moments and memories and gossip and-

There.

They look ridiculous. Sabé thinks, but she knows that’s not true.

They look happy. Even through the lens, their warmth is captured.

Padmé’s warmth.

The way she looks at Anakin is so warm.

So loving.

Sabé lingers for a moment, holding the camera gently between her hands. Staring.

“My hands are yours.”

Then with all the power she can manage, Sabé throws the camera down and smashes it against the pavement.

Sparks fly and bits of metal shatter this way and that, kicking up dirt and muck. The flickering metal almost looks poetic.

Almost.

Rex is silent for a moment, staring at the unceremonial end, and Sabé can’t seem to find her voice.

Something in her chest ached. It’s probably a displaced rib, Sabé reasons, but she knows that isn’t really it.

Thankfully, Rex seems to know how to defuse uncomfortable situations.

“We should call someone to pick us up.” He huffs, gaze pointed at the endless levels above them. “I’m not walking back.” Sabé almost laughs.

“Can we eat first?” She asks instead, trying to swallow the strange tears caught in her throat, and rolling her aching shoulder.

“Yeah I could eat.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nope.” He says with a grin, offering her his arm like they were leaving a charity ball and not crawling out of a dumpster.

That makes Sabé laugh. But she links her arm into his anyway and punches him in the shoulder, ignoring the way he winces.

“Fine. We’ll just charge Senator Amidala’s card.”

“You have access to the Senators bank?”

“Sometimes I AM the senator Rex.”

“Right. Sometimes I forget that.”

Sabé laughs.

“That’s the whole point, dummy.”

The diner they find looks almost as disgusting as they do.

Filled with flickering lights, unkempt floors, and more than a few blaster marks, the establishment doesn’t even react when a beaten up clone trooper and a crazy girl in half a dress show up and ask for a table.

The corner booth smells a bit like garbage, but Sabé reasons she also smells like garbage, so in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal. At least she could eat.

“Their wedding kinda sucked.” Sabé says, voice slightly muffled in between bites of her sandwich.

“I’ve never been to a wedding.” Rex responds, taking another bite of his cushnip. He had a weird taste for someone whose main diet consisted of ration bars.

“They suck. Never let your best friend talk you into attending one.”

“Noted.”

“It was just me, and two droids.” Sabé swallows, “Have you ever had to make conversation with two droids at a secret wedding?”

“I’ve had to make conversation with undead Genioshians.” He tries, pointing his fork at her.

“That’s not the same.”

It’s silent for a moment, Rex still pointing at her, and then they both burst into laughter.

Uncontrollable, over tired laughter. Sabé only stops when her arching chest can’t take it anymore.

“Why are you blonde?” She interrupts suddenly. “I thought all clones were Jango Fett, well, clones.”

“What?” He breathes, coughing at the end, and staring at her in disbelief. “I help you chase a reporter 30 levels, and all you want to ask is ‘why are you blonde?’ That’s the best you can do?”

Sabé tries to laugh again, but her chest hurts so much she stops herself.

“Do I really look that awful?” Rex reaches up and pulls another piece of trash from his blacks.

“Yes.” Sabé says with a smile, “You look ridiculous without your bucket.”

Rex rolls his eyes, pointing at her again.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

Something catches his eye, and Rex glances out the diner window.

“There’s our ride.”

Outside, a Republic landspeeder settles into the parking lot recklessly. There’s an ARC trooper in the driver's seat, white armor painted the same blue as Rex. A member of his battalion no doubt.

Quickly rising, Sabé settles the bill, and follows Rex towards the trooper.

She wants to get out of this hole as quickly as possible. And shower. Twice.

“What happened to you?” The ARC trooper asks, and Sabé can’t tell if his tone is genuine concern or teasing.

Or perhaps both.

“Not now.” Rex mumbles, as he brushes past the trooper and practically falls into the back seat of the landspeeder.

“Hi.” The trooper turns to her now, and even through the helmet's voice altering, Sabé can hear his tone dripping with charisma. She gives a half laugh, but it sounds more like a wheeze.

“Hi.” She responds, “I’m Sabé.”

“I’m Fives.” He replies, “Hang out in the underworld often?”

“Can it, Trooper.” Rex yells from the landspeeder. His head is leaned against the seat, and his brow is furrowed, as if this happens all the time. “Just get us back to base.”

“Yes Captain.” Fives says with a loose salute, but he nods at Sabé, and she swears he winks under his helmet.

Carefully maneuvering around her bruises, Sabé settles into the backseat beside Rex.

“You know.” Sabé starts, “If I’m going to be a third wheel more often, I wouldn’t mind serving with you Captain.”

“It’s been an honor Sabé,” Rex says, and then pauses, “but in all honesty I could never do this again and be just fine.”

Sabés cracked rib hurts too much to laugh.

The Truth Lies (In An Unmarked Grave)

On some days, Rex is certain the grief is going to kill him. There's only so much a person can take, and he reached that limit long ago-- reached it, then vaulted straight past it. Echo is alive, and that's fantastic, but... Fives isn't, and he's only the most recent on the long list of people Rex has failed to save. On some days, Rex is convinced that he's just walking wounded, that it's only a matter of time before his injuries catch up to him and put him in the ground.

That's... not what happens. Instead, Rex wakes up with Fives, and General Skywalker years in the past, back before Fives' death, before the Citadel, with their memories of the future intact. Instead, Rex finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place as he tries to save his family, with the constant threat of the Chancellor hanging over his shoulder.

(Ao3 Link)

Chapter 1

After working with The Bad Batch– after finding Echo and losing him again, after punching Crosshair and forcing himself to work with him anyway– Rex finds himself sitting on a log, staring at the bonfire in front of him.

The roaring fire illuminates the darkness of the night sky, and Rex can feel the heat from it on his face, warming up his knees. Despite that, his fingers feel cold around his beer bottle as he stares down the flames, a shade short of tipsy, not quite tipsy enough.

[[MORE]]

He feels… almost isolated, with the way the sky stretches out above him, vast and endless, twinkling stars bright against the darkness of the night. But he’s not alone– far from it, in fact– Jesse’s sitting on his right, and Kix is on Jesse’s right, and Ridge on Kix’s right, and Sterling on Ridge’s right, which brings him all around to being on Rex’s left.

They’re a lively bunch. It’s not quiet around the campfire– far from it, in fact. If Rex felt a little less detached, he knows he’d be right there with them, laughing and joking. But the events of the last few days, months, years, weigh on him, and it’s easier to let himself be mesmerized by the crackling flames than putting in the effort to be engrossed in conversation.

Jesse, however, is not one to be upstaged by a firepit. He leans forward, grins, waves his hand in front of Rex’s face. “Hey Cap,” he says, ignoring Kix’s facepalm. “How do you know if there’s a member of the Bad Batch at your party?”

Rex sighs, looks up at the sky. Prays for some sort of divine intervention.

No divine intervention arrives. Rex sighs, loudly. “How, Jesse?” he asks, half certain he already knows the answer.

“”They’ll tell you,” Jesse replies, and despite the fact that Rex had been expecting that exact answer, he still finds himself snorting at the accuracy of it. “Hey, how would the Bad Batch kill a space snake?”

Rex sighs again, louder this time. He definitely knows where this one is going. “How?”

“They make contact with it, ignore all Judicial Department directives and build a rapport with the snake, train it to kill other snakes, then return to Kamino to file a requisition of GAR resources form and take in the snake.”

Rex… shouldn’t ask. They’re all feeling weird after their last mission, every single Forcedamned clone is a raw nerve at the moment. He really shouldn’t ask.

Kriff it. He might as well ask. “Is the snake in this metaphor meant to be Echo?”

“Of course not sir, Echo was– is about as sneaky as a reg manual to the face.”

“Big words coming from you,” Kix chimes in, taking advantage of Jesse’s temporary distraction to steal his beer and finish it off.

“Kix, I’ll let you know that I’m an ARC trooper, actually,” Jesse defends. “I absolutely know how to be sneaky.”

“Well, since you’re a high and mighty ARC trooper, I guess that means that you’d just kill our metaphorical space snake by accident, and it would turn out that this metaphorical snake was sacred to the people there, and the natborns would then demand the removal of Republic forces from the planet.”

Rex chokes on his beer, coughs as Jesse sputters. Kriffing hell, someone decided to go for the throat today. “Oh, kark off,” is what Jesse eventually says in response, and Kix shrugs, looking all too smug with Jesse’s bottle in his hand.

After he finishes restoring the air to his lungs, Rex finds himself looking down at his hands, letting the conversation fade to a dull roar in the background. He looks down at his right hand, forms a fist with it, frowns. Unrolls his fingers one by one, flexes them once, then twice, then three times. The memory of punching Crosshair is all too present in his mind, as is the memory of liking it. Of wanting to do it again.

For all that he knows that he was made for killing, Rex has never thought of himself as an inherently violent person. But right now, there’s a part of him saying otherwise, a part of him that’s determinedly whispering what might even be the truth in the back of his mind.

He’s realized recently that he’s changing. And it’s because of the war, yes, but it’s also because of other things, and that… worries him. Scares him, almost, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Rex is a clone. He’s not made for change– the opposite, really. He’s been designed not to evolve past his programming.

But Crosshair had said that they should’ve left Echo behind, and Rex had seen red. For a second, all he’d been able to think about was Fives’ anguish at the Citadel, Fives’ grief in the aftermath, Fives’ rapidly cooling body in his arms, and–

Yeah, Rex had punched him. The shabuir had deserved it– deserved worse, an insidious voice inside him whispers.

(Rex at the beginning of the war never would’ve done that. Rex doesn’t know if his past self would even recognize the man he’s become now.)

Anyway, General Skywalker may not have liked that punch, but Kix and Jesse were on his side, and that was good enough for Rex. It had to be.

He glances down at his fist once more, sighs, and picks up his beer again, finishing it off. He probably should get started on those reports and finish filling out Echo’s transfer forms, so Rex opens his mouth to excuse himself when General Skywalker comes out of his tent, holding something strange and triangular, something that’s glowing red, and suddenly–

The world tips sideways.

Dimly, Rex hears alarmed shouts of his own name, feels the beer bottle slip from his hands, but all he can focus on is the nauseating roil of his own stomach, and the way that General Skywalker seems to have lost his balance too, and is clinging to a tree for support. Rex blinks, tries to focus, tries to marshal his thoughts into something coherent, then–

Nothing.

Curses, Cocoons and Clones part 3

Kix was at a lost

As the medic of the 501st most would assume that he have seem some crazy shit and they were right to a degree. Kix would argue that the 212th had the craziest injuries, and considering the rumor that Commander Cody and a few other Vode broke some bones from body slamming Grievous helped with Kix’s argument.

But now Kix was staring at the lifeless and tiny Fives in his hands and with the Captain who was still in this weird cocoon thing and probably going to turning to the same thing as Fives.

Yeah, maybe the rest of the vode was right.

Kix pushed any anxiety away, he couldn’t panic right now, Captain Rex and Fives needed him. Kix gently put his unconscious brother on the lose piece of cloth that the General generously lended the medic. Rex was still in the cocoon thing which was concerning, the bigger concerns was how the kriffing hells did this happen and if it was it contagious.

Kix hoped it wasn’t, the last thing that needed to happen is having the Republic’s best leaders down due to some weird condition.

Nevertheless, Kix continued to check Fives’s vials with the scanner that was way to big for him. Kix was half worried that he would accidentally hurt him further, especially with the wings.

Force, his vode had wings. Bigger the Fives’ body and insect-like. Surprisingly very durable despite the thinness of them. Kix quietly wondered if Fives could fly with them or at least glide. The legs and antenna was confusing to Kix though he wasn’t going to admit that since the whole group was uneasy with the Captain and one of their best Arcs down.

“Kix I think Captain Rex is waking up!” Anakin stopped pacing and Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody’s quiet conversation died.

Kix immediately set his attention to the cocoon that was on the makeshift table as the cocoon shook.

*Scurries from under the bed and drops this on your desk* enjoy :D

Oh you NEED to continue the kid fic bc I’m obsessed! Not asking for a full fledged story (I mean hey, unless you want to) but just a small continuation at least please🙏 What do you hc their ages to be in it? What’s Morrible’s reaction to the bit at the end there? I need to know

ask and u shall receive, fair anon. their ages are roughly 5 & 8/9 9 think?

(direct continuation of this post btw - read that first! idk why this got so long, my bad)

///

The woman seems taken aback by both the girls’ reactions, standing awkwardly above them. Elphie’s shaking hard, but she stands up with her arms spread and her knees locked as to prevent the woman from getting any closer. 

Galinda shouldn’t be such a crybaby, such a coward, but she can’t help feeling grateful for the older girl’s protection. The woman has stopped advancing, but she still looks angry.

She really should just stand up and accept it. Momsie hates when Galinda starts begging. She says it’s ‘unbecoming of a lady’ to wail like she does. It never makes it better. And running away? Why, that’s just asking for trouble.

With great effort, Galinda places a hand over her mouth to silence her cries, sniffling hard and swallowing down mucus and tears. She still feels sick to her stomach as she gathers her limbs. Just as she makes to stand, though- Elphie turns around, eyes wide as she shoves at Galinda. 

“Stay down!” she hisses. Her eyes flicks to the woman. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

The woman seems calmer now, more collected. Her previous fierce glare has shifted into something more curious than anything else. She raises a single eyebrow at Elphie’s statement. 

“I’m not planning on hurting anyone,” she says. “I…apologize for my outburst. I was merely concerned that something had happened.”

Galinda doesn’t believe her. She’d been yelling about blondes. Galinda’s the only blonde in the room; she had to have done something wrong.

Sometimes, when they’re in public, or she feels there’s a lesson to be learned, Momsie won’t punish her right away. She’ll make Galinda wait, knowing the inevitable is coming, letting it build in her belly until she’s so tied into knots she can barely even breathe. 

Perhaps this woman is the same. Or perhaps she’s waiting to see if Elphie does anything that will add to the punishment. Momsie does that as well at times. Counts indiscretions and waits until the end of the day to tell Galinda all the things she did wrong.  

The thought makes more tears leak down Galinda’s face. Gulping again, she stands up and resigns herself to her fate. She doesn’t want Elphie to be punished. Elphie is her friend. 

Galinda loves her. 

“Elphie,” Galinda whispers. At some point, she’d accidentally slid her thumb between her lips while blocking her mouth, and she’s quick to yank it out when she realizes. 

Only babies suck their thumbs, Galinda! 

Galinda hopes no one saw that. She reaches out to tug on the back of Elphie’s shirt. “I-it’s otay. I was b-bad.”

Elphie whips her head around, glaring. “No, you weren’t. You just had an accident; you’re not bad.” She turns her hard stare back to the woman, visibly trembling as she does. “She’s not.” 

“Of course, Elphaba,” the woman says smoothly, though she shoots Galinda a dirty look. Elphie flinches hard at the use of her name. 

“Do-do I know you? Or…do you know my father?”

There’s a pause. The woman tilts her head. “I do know your father,” she finally says. Slower than before. More calculating. Her gaze shifts to Galinda. “My name is Madame Morrible. I know who both of you are.”

Galinda whimpers. If this lady--Morrible--knows her momsie and popsicle, than she’ll probably tell them about Galinda’s accident, and then Galinda will be in even more trouble. She should just take her punishment now, no matter how scared she is.  

Galinda steps around Elphie on shaky legs. She glances up at Morrible briefly, too frightened to meet her eyes, then bows her head and clasps her hands.

“I-I’m sowwy, Miss Mowwible,” she whispers. “I made a mess and was bad. I’ll take m-my punishment now.”

Elphie tries to grab for her, but Galinda steps aside. She wipes an arm over her teary face. “Please don’ hurt Elphie. She’s my fwiend, and s-she’s been weally nice.”

Morrible bends down to be on Galinda’s face level, the little girl shrinking back in fear. Elphie comes up beside her in support. She has several inches on Galinda, and despite how clearly afraid she is, she’s also very clearly protective. 

“She’s just little,” Elphie argues. “You can’t punish her for being scared. No hits.”

Galinda gasps at Elphie’s boldness. You aren’t supposed to talk back to adults. She shudders as Morrible looms even closer, terrified her friend has just made things even worse. 

“Elphie, no,” Galinda whispers, stumbling on her heels when she leans back too far. The older girl steadies her, still glaring. You’ll make her mad, Galinda doesn’t say. 

Morrible’s eyes narrow, then she straightens to her full height, book dangling from her fingertips, and smiles. It’s not a very happy-looking smile. Nor a comforting one. 

“I’m not going to hit you, little ones,” she says. “It appears there has been some...confusion.”

Elphie grabs Galinda’s hand. “Are you going to send us home?” she asks. Galinda can’t tell by her tone if Elphie is hoping for a yes or a no. 

“Not yet,” Morrible answers. Her gaze flicks over their diminutive forms. “You see- there is magic at play here. Dangerous, powerful magic.”

Galinda feels Elphie wince, shrinking into herself. “Magic?” she questions, voice small. Galinda has always wanted magic- ever since her Nona told her about it. 

“Yes, dear. Magic. That’s why you are here. You may not remember, but it’s important you stay here and that you are on your best behavior as we sort everything out. Can you do that? Can you be good?”

Both girls nod tentatively. 

Galinda feels Elphie’s hand tighten. “Where is here?” she asks.

“Why, the Emerald City, of course.”

At that- Elphie finally looks up again, eyes bright. “The Emerald City?” she breathes. 

Morrible’s smile grows. “Yes. This is the palace of the wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”

“The Wizard,” Elphie gasps. She seems delighted by the news. Meanwhile- Galinda is horrified. She peed on the Wizard’s floor! 

Galinda rocks back and forth, stomach knotting and tears resurging. She feels wrung out and overwhelmed, too small to comprehend everything that is happening. She’s away from home for the first-ever time, surrounded by strangers in a place she’s never been, and she still hasn’t been punished. 

The wait is agony. 

Elphie seems to pick up on her dip in mood, pulling Galinda a little closer and giving her hand another squeeze. “M-miss Morrible? If we’re not going home, where are we going to stay?”

Things move a little faster after that. More people enter the room, tall men in shiny armor whose eyes all widen in shock at the sight of the children. Galinda leans on Elphie’s arm, letting the taller girl hold her against her side and whisper to her soothingly as they follow the men down the hall. 

The palace is vast, and every now and then Galinda catches sight of large furred creatures with massive blue wings and terrifyingly large teeth. It seems to take ages to get to a bedroom, Morrible telling them under no uncertain terms that they are not allowed to leave without permission. 

Elphie stands in front of Galinda again as the lady gives her instructions, points out the attached bathroom, and tells them someone will be by with food in a little bit. She doesn’t offer any clothes, even though Galinda’s are soiled and gross. 

When the door finally slams shut, Galinda all but collapses against Elphie. She’s confused and her head hurts and her stomach hurts and her dress is ruined and her lungs are aching. She’s clutching Elphie hard enough to bruise, trying to draw strength from the older girl, even though Elphie is terrified too. Elphie is confused, too. 

But Elphie is a big sister, not that Galinda remembers it, and so Elphie is able to shove down her fear and confusion and gently turn to Galinda, wrapping her in a hug as she breaks down in heaving sobs. She’s tired, and she’s hungry, and she doesn’t feel good. 

She says all this to Elphie, whining in a way she knows she’s too old for, and Elphie just rubs her back and shushes her. Eventually, Galinda’s legs give way to the force of her cries, and Elphie carefully picks her up, grunting with effort until Galinda is high enough to wrap her legs around the green girl’s waist and hold on. 

“It’ll be okay, Galinda,” Elphie says. “I’ve got you.”

“I-I-I want to go home,” Galinda cries. Even if she’s terrified of what her parents may say about how she’s behaved, it’s at least a predictable, almost comfortable fear. This place is new and cold and entirely too confusing to want to stay. 

“I know,” Elphie sighs. “Me too.”

Galinda frowns, slipping her thumb back in her mouth now that there’s no adults around to see. Elphie won’t mind. Elphie won’t tattle on her. As the older girl carries Galinda to the bed and carefully places her down, climbing up beside her to hug her once more, Galinda clings to her desperately.

Galinda wants to go home…but she also wants Elphie. She can’t bear the thought of parting with the older girl. The very idea of being separated sends ten times as much fear through her little body, making her shiver and shake as her stomach twists so hard she’s scared she’ll make a mess.

“Don’ wan’ you to l-leave,” she stammers out. She buries her nose in the crook of Elphie’s neck, breathing in her faint scent. It’s familiar. Comforting. Elphie’s warm body against hers as their hearts start to settle just feels right. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elphie promises. She runs her fingers through blonde locks. “I would never leave you, Galinda.”

Galinda nibbles on her thumb, still worried and anxious. But the words soothe her a little, slowing the incessant flow of tears. She wonders if Elphie would want to come live with her when they escape. Elphie would be nice to her. Elphie wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t yell at Galinda for being too dumb or too quiet or too emotional.

Elphie would love Galinda. Just like Galinda loves Elphie. 

Chapter 4 Summary:

Still recovering from the Blue Shadow Virus, Rex attempts to convince Kix that he's practically fine. Unfortunately, his body didn't get the memo.

Chapter 4: Rex

“You know, everyone else is still taking it easy, sleeping the day away. You could stand to actually relax for half a rotation, sir.” Kix said as he approached the Captain’s medbed. Only three days after being infected with the Blue Shadow Virus, Rex was already trying his patience with how often he ignored basic common sense. “I thought I said you were on bedrest for the next week.”

The Captain flinched, attempting to subtly slide his datapad under a nearby pillow. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a cough and a squeak, at least until he lowered his voice into a whisper. “I, uh, was just checking mission reports. Didn’t want to be unprepared for my weekly briefing with the General.”

As a virtually extinct plague, very little information existed on recovery from the Blue Shadow Virus, but Rex had quickly learned that laryngitis was part of the package. The first day hadn’t been too bad, and he’d been able to power through a quick debrief, between attempts to cough up a lung. He’d slept through most of the second day, but during his brief lucid moments, he’d been asking for updates on the other troopers, and had been attempting to discuss troop movements with the bridge before Kix confiscated his comm. 

Now on day three, his voice was paying the price. At best, he sounded like a 6th year cadet, and at the worst, he sounded like a dying frog. Jesse was never going to let him live it down, after coming in for an update and nearly falling over laughing when he heard the Captain’s voice.

“Uh huh, and when exactly is this weekly briefing?” Kix asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow.” He croaked, sniffling and attempting to look at least a little put-together, but he still looked pale and sickly; if Kix didn’t know better, he’d be worried Rex was on the verge of falling off his medbed in a dead faint. 

Kix huffed, “Do the words, “A week of bedrest,” mean nothing to you, sir?”

“Yes, but I figured that four days was enough, given that I’d be released the following day anyways.”

A vein in Kix’s forehead started to pulse. “Not five days, one week. Not that “business week” nonsense the Senate’s always trying to pull.”

“Oh, four days, then.” Rex raised his chin defiantly, resolutely ignoring how his voice cracked like a cadet when he responded. 

“7 days!” 

“I’m hearing two days.” Rex countered, muffling a cough before going back to reading his datapad, like the matter was decided, despite the fact that he was still running a low-grade fever and had nearly thrown up from the force of his coughing not two hours ago.

Kix shook his head emphatically, emotion suddenly filling his voice. “No. Not in my medbay. You could’ve died, sir! I-If anyone deserves a break, it’s you, so stop running yourself into the ground and rest! Please.” 

Rex’s eyes widened. The last time Kix had truly raised his voice at him was back on Saleucami, after learning he got into a firefight after being benched for taking a blaster wound to the chest. 

“Kix– I-I…” His voice broke. He tried to respond, but his next inhale became a painful cough, and then he couldn’t stop. Chest spasming, his damaged lungs struggled to compensate for the sudden lack of oxygen, and his vision started to darken at the edges.

As a competent medic, Kix quickly took action, helping him into a sitting position for better airflow. He rubbed his back, glancing worriedly at his vitals. “Easy sir, take a slow breath.” 

“T-Trying,” He bit out, wheezing as his coughing finally subsided. If he’d had the breath to do so, he would’ve grumbled when Kix broke out the dreaded oxygen mask, but as it was, his shoulders slumped in relief when he could finally breathe again. He sat there for a moment, leaning heavily on Kix, trying to keep his heavy eyelids from closing.

“You alright now, Rex?” Kix asked softly, one hand still rubbing his back in slow circles.

Rex nodded, head lolling slightly. He whispered again, not wanting to further aggravate his throat. “-’m good… thanks, Kix.”

Kix sighed, fond exasperation bleeding through as he commented, “You know, whispering is actually worse than talking, for laryngitis. If you want to stop sounding like a cadet, you should really take a break.”

Rex opened his mouth to respond before thinking better of it, nodding reluctantly. Kix smirked, getting up from where he’d sat on Rex’s medbed, taking the Captain’s datapad with him. 

“Good. Now, lay down. You are going to rest, and you are going to like it!” He ordered, only a little amused when Rex grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, “Sir, yes sir.”