Whiskysauers - Whisky Sauers

The Rain World animation I started making 2 years ago is done.

Link to high resolution version on Youtube. Contains some flashing.

Between Hearts and Ruin Pt. 1 "Breaking the Silence"

Summary: Tech and Leena’s marriage is strained, with mounting tensions that leave Tech feeling exhausted from carrying the weight of trying to fix their issues. Despite his efforts, he’s reached a breaking point, unsure of how much longer he can continue. The same night Tech starts to find some peace with his uncertain decision about their future, he meets someone new, stirring unexpected feelings. Meanwhile, Leena, who isn’t ready to let go, finds solace in the company of someone she knows only vaguely. Both are left questioning the path forward, caught between their unresolved past and the pull of new, uncharted connections.

Word Count: 9k

Pairing(s): Tech / OC Leena ; Echo x OC Aiko ; Crosshair x OC Kayden

Warnings: Mentions of splitting up, so much Angst in this bad boy, brief mentions of losing Fives, did I mention Angst? marital arguments

Author's Note: Hi friends! This is a 3 part story crossover between myself and @leenathegreengirl! All characters are part of her Pabu AU. All other chapters will be posted at the same time and linked below. Please check out her page to learn more about the AU if you are new, and if you have stuck around for a while... buckle up because it's going to get intense... You can find a link HERE on her account to a book version of the full story!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The counter felt unnervingly sticky under his fingers, its residue clinging to his skin with every movement. His clothes—far too tight and constricting—made every breath a little more labored, a constant reminder of how out of place he felt in this moment. The music, an incessant hum in the background, seemed to dull his senses, blurring everything around him. Even the taste of spotcha, which he had once tolerated, now tasted like bitter regret on his tongue. Tech’s thoughts spiraled as he longed to leave, to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere, and part of him felt apathetic to anyone’s disappointment—he just wanted to be anywhere but here. But Omega had begged him to join, her pleading eyes too much for him to resist. So, he stayed.

The quiet thud of Echo’s cup meeting the wooden table snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, and Tech followed suit, setting down his own shot glass with a deliberate, almost mechanical motion. It was a small, mundane action—but in that moment, it felt significant. The weight of unspoken words coming alive as the sigh left his lips and his eyes turned downcast once more. 

He despised being the cause of their worry. Tech would have preferred enduring another of Chori’s harsh verbal reprimands than to face the silent weight of their concerned or disappointed gazes. He had grown accustomed to those looks over time, but they never lost their sting. The mixture of confusion over his actions and the pity that seemed to drip from their eyes made his stomach twist. He hated it. No one should pity him—not for his failure to see the warning signs long before things spiraled out of control.

He had made a mistake. A critical misjudgment, one that he couldn't shake from his mind. Admitting that, out loud, felt like swallowing glass. The weight of it, the knowledge that he had lost his usual steadiness, gnawed at him relentlessly. Every time he spoke the words aloud, it was like peeling back a fresh layer of shame, the guilt never fading, only deepening.

Tech had spent countless hours over the past few months retracing his steps, attempting to unravel where everything had gone wrong. At first, he had convinced himself that the root of the problem lay in his failure to recognize the significant differences between himself and Leena. He had told himself it was an understandable oversight—one that, in hindsight, could be chalked up to a simple error in judgment. But as he sifted through his older records, documents, and notes from the time of their crash landing on the planet she called home, a harsh truth began to emerge. Even then, when he first met Leena, he had been acutely aware of the chasm that separated them, of the vast divide in how they viewed the world, approached problems, and saw their futures.

What he hadn’t fully grasped, though, was the true depth of that disparity—the way those differences could unravel the very fabric of a relationship. He had underestimated how much those discrepancies could sow instability, the kind that would slowly erode any foundation they tried to build. And that realization struck him like a gut punch: it wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the differences, but that he had been blind to their consequences.

Being so vastly different from your partner wasn’t necessarily an impossible challenge to overcome, provided both people were willing to make compromises. Tech, ever the problem-solver, understood this concept early on. However, he quickly realized that in their relationship, he was often the one making those compromises. And as time passed, it became clear that the differences in their emotional needs were the root cause of the issues that began to surface.

Tech valued mental stimulation above all else—he thrived in the presence of a partner who could engage his mind, someone who challenged his thoughts and kept him questioning, growing, and expanding his understanding of the world. For him, problem-solving was more than just a skill; it was how he expressed affection, how he showed care and dedication. He also valued quiet moments of companionship—those peaceful, unspoken times that allowed him to connect with someone on a deeper level without needing words or physical touch.

Leena, however, had a very different approach to intimacy. She was a constant, tactile presence, her need for physical connection apparent in every gesture. She craved the touch of others, and while at first it had seemed endearing, it gradually became something more stifling to him. The frequent, insistent grasps on his arms, the constant kisses in public, the overwhelming need for physical closeness—what had initially been affection in her eyes slowly became a suffocating force in his. It was as if her touch was a demand, one that gradually pushed him further and further out of his comfort zone, until what had once been a loving gesture began to feel more like a constraint. This mismatch in needs—his desire for mental engagement and quiet, her hunger for constant physical closeness—formed the crux of their early problems, the friction that would only grow more difficult to ignore with time.

As the more significant differences in their needs began to settle in, Tech found his own feelings increasingly neglected. He had been the one constantly compromising, trying to accommodate her desires while putting his own on the back burner. As that pattern continued, even the smallest issues seemed to evolve into major points of contention. Things that once might have been overlooked or shrugged off now became flashpoints, chipping away at the connection between them and deepening the gap that had begun to widen.

Tech’s understanding of time was unwavering and meticulous. He had a rigorous, almost intrinsic sense of schedules and the value of time. To him, if you made plans, you were obligated to respect the structure and timelines you set. There was an unspoken expectation that punctuality wasn’t just a courtesy—it was a reflection of respect, not only for the time you’d agreed upon but also for the people you were meeting. In Tech’s mind, the system was simple: schedules existed to be followed.

But Leena was the antithesis of that structure. Her free-flowing, almost carefree nature didn’t see time as something to be rigidly adhered to. She would often show up late, dismissing punctuality with a casualness that baffled and frustrated him. What seemed like a small, harmless disregard for the clock grew more maddening with each passing day. Her tendency to break free from schedules, to let time bend and stretch to her whims, was something he struggled to accept. To him, it felt disrespectful—not just to him, but to everyone involved in their plans.

Her tardiness, once a mere annoyance, began to feel like a constant breach of trust, a sign that her priorities were out of sync with his. The lack of consideration for time—something that Tech valued deeply—felt like an affront to his need for order and predictability. It wasn’t just the lateness; it was the underlying message that her world didn’t revolve around the same sense of respect for time that he held so dear.

In addition to the mounting frustrations, Tech came to a quiet, unexpected realization about himself—one he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. Tech had always been a confident man, comfortable with who he was and well aware of both his strengths and weaknesses. He didn’t dwell much on the opinions of others, nor did he feel the need to constantly prove his worth. But even he, despite his composed exterior, was still human. There were moments when he found himself uncertain about how to explain why certain things bothered him—why something as seemingly small as a comment could gnaw at him for longer than he cared to admit.

One such issue had been his hairline, which had started to recede earlier than most. It wasn’t something he dwelled on, but Leena’s frequent remarks about it made him more self-conscious than he ever thought he could be. She had been persistent, especially in the early days, pointing out how the bold hairstyle he’d chosen after the removal of his inhibitor chip suited him, almost as though it was a way to cover up his “imperfection.” At the time, he’d brushed it off, believing her reassurances, seeing the change as something simple and even freeing. Yet, as time passed, her comments—meant to be affectionate—began to sting.

The more she gently acknowledged that his bold look “worked to hide” his receding hairline, the more it hurt. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the implication that his physical appearance was something to be covered up, something that needed fixing. It was a vulnerability he hadn’t fully been aware of until now. What had once seemed like a harmless observation became a constant reminder of his insecurities, of a defect he had never been overly concerned with before but now found difficult to ignore.

There were times when he yearned for the simplicity of those earlier days when he hadn’t cared about the slight recession of his hairline. He missed the confidence he had once carried without a second thought. He longed for a time when he hadn’t had to question whether or not he should let his hair grow back, or whether it would be met with more gentle nudges to change it. He wished, more than anything, that his partner would stop pointing it out—would simply accept him as he was, imperfections and all.

Then, the final blow—the proverbial nail in the coffin—came in the form of their profound misalignment in the bedroom. Tech, despite his lack of romantic companionship before meeting Leena, had always found it difficult to settle into a repetitive routine, especially in matters of intimacy. Early on, he had sensed that their needs and desires in that area weren’t quite in sync. While he didn’t have the same physical demands as others, he still harbored a deep need for connection in that space, one that extended beyond simple, predictable interactions.

Tech wasn’t a man who could easily be satisfied with repetition; his mind, ever curious and open, yearned for new experiences, new ways to engage. He longed for variety, for exploration, for the kind of intimacy that pushed boundaries, that was full of discovery. Yet Leena, in contrast, was more traditional in her approach. She was drawn to a simpler, more romantic atmosphere, preferring the comfort of routine and the quiet familiarity of a steady, uncomplicated connection. For her, intimacy was something sacred, a space to nurture feelings of closeness and affection through consistency and tenderness.

It didn’t take long for Tech to realize that their differing expectations in this area might be a larger obstacle than he’d initially thought. While he had no shortage of emotional depth, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the lack of variety in their intimacy was starting to erode something fundamental between them. His growing desire to try new things, to experiment, to explore uncharted territory, felt increasingly distant from her preference for simple, romantic gestures that often left him feeling unfulfilled.

As these differences grew more pronounced, Tech found himself grappling with a sense of frustration he couldn’t easily express. It wasn’t just about physical needs—it was about a deeper longing for something more dynamic, more exciting, something that matched the way his mind constantly sought novelty and challenge. The mismatch in their desires in the bedroom began to feel like the final layer of the disconnect between them, the one thing neither of them could seem to bridge.

“Tech.” The sound of his name was gentle but laced with concern, followed by the familiar weight of a hand resting on his shoulder. Echo was trying once again to pull his attention, a subtle but firm reminder that he hadn’t escaped the questioning for long.

Tech sighed quietly, his eyes lifting reluctantly to meet Echo’s gaze. He already knew what was coming—the inevitable barrage of questions. It was the same pattern that had unfolded with each of his brothers, each one taking their turn to pry into the situation, all demanding an explanation for something that had felt like it came out of nowhere. The tension had built up over time, and now it was spilling over, each of them seeking clarity.

Hunter had been the first to confront him, though in his own way, seeing Tech’s actions as a disruption to their team’s harmony. Wrecker, in his typically straightforward manner, only seemed concerned with the surface-level issues—the impact of Tech’s personal decisions on their already fragile family dynamic. And then there was Crosshair, who had a different sort of frustration, one tied to his own personal stakes. His concern seemed more self-centered, worried about how Tech’s split might affect his own impending nuptials, rather than any deeper emotional fallout.

Echo, however, had held back, waiting, observing. He hadn’t yet launched into the interrogation like the others. For now, he was the last remaining one, the only brother who hadn’t yet pressed for an explanation, and Tech knew his patience was running thin.

Tech couldn’t help but wonder why Echo had held back, why he was the only one who hadn’t bombarded him with questions. There had to be a reason, and Tech couldn’t shake the thought that perhaps Echo had already consulted Mae—one of the few people who had known about his plans to separate before they had fully unfolded. Mae’s quiet understanding of the situation had always been evident. She had listened when he had spoken of his concerns, her response simple and devoid of pressure. She hadn’t pushed him to keep fighting for something that no longer felt right; instead, she had accepted his feelings, honoring his exhaustion and the mental toll of trying for so long. Mae’s gentle acceptance, without judgment or insistence, had given him space to breathe and think, something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was offered.

Given how close Echo’s wife was to Mae, Tech couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Echo, in his own way, had approached her about the matter as well. Perhaps Mae had provided him with the same understanding, which in turn had kept Echo from pressing him further. After all, Echo had always been the quiet observer, never one to jump to conclusions. If Mae had supported him, then Echo might have felt no need to pry, knowing the weight of Tech’s decision without needing every detail laid bare.

But there was another possibility, one that lingered in the back of Tech’s mind. Echo had been married longer than most of them. Maybe he understood better than anyone the complexities and quiet struggles that came with a long-term partnership. Marriage was never as simple as it seemed, and Tech had to wonder if Echo was quietly acknowledging that fact within his own relationship. Perhaps Echo was beginning to face his own challenges in that area, and out of respect—both for his own experience and for Tech’s—he had decided to withhold his judgment. After all, some things couldn’t be fixed with just a conversation or a solution; sometimes, the complexities of a relationship were too tangled to dissect in a single breath.

“If you’re going to ask, go ahead,” Tech said with a dry scoff, frustration bubbling up despite his best efforts to keep it contained. “Though I doubt any explanation I give is going to make me look better.” His words were sharp, edged with a mix of self-doubt and anger. It was hard to find any way to frame his actions that would cast him in a sympathetic light. The truth of it all felt like a weight he couldn’t escape, one that only seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

He had broken Leena’s heart—there was no way around that fact. The quiet, painful way he’d slipped away from her on an ordinary evening, had left scars deeper than he cared to admit. And the timing? It couldn’t have been worse. The same night he walked away from her, Crosshair had proposed to Leena’s twin. It was supposed to be a moment of joy, a turning point in their lives, yet his abrupt departure tainted it all. His actions hadn’t just hurt Leena, they had disrupted something beautiful, something that had been meant to be celebrated. The weight of that, the realization that his own choices had overshadowed someone else’s happiness, made the guilt gnaw at him in ways he couldn’t explain.

“I wasn’t going to ask about that,” Echo started, his voice steady but carrying a note of concern. “I was going to ask how you’re holding up. It’s a big change, Tech…”

Before Echo could finish, Tech cut him off, his words spilling out in a practiced, rehearsed tone. He had said them a thousand times to himself, hoping to convince anyone who would listen—and maybe even himself—that everything was fine.

“Change is a fundamental part of life,” Tech interrupted, his voice flat. “Unworthy of dwelling upon.”

But Echo wasn’t buying it. He didn’t let the words hang in the air. “Would you cut the crap and just speak to me? Honestly.”

Tech flinched, the sharpness of Echo’s voice catching him off guard. He hadn’t meant to snap, but the interruption was instinctive, defensive. His eyes briefly dropped, a wave of sullen guilt washing over him as he realized the frustration behind Echo’s outburst. Echo didn’t deserve to be met with the walls Tech had built, walls that had become so automatic, so deeply ingrained, that he didn’t even notice when they were up.

For a moment, Tech said nothing. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He had been avoiding this very conversation, but now it was impossible to ignore. He had alienated those closest to him, built walls around his own emotions, and Echo, of all people, wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

Tech’s shoulders slumped, and his voice softened, losing some of the rigid professionalism he often hid behind. “I’m not sure how to... process this, Echo,” he admitted quietly, the words feeling heavier than he expected. “Everything feels... disjointed. Like I’m going through the motions, but none of it feels real anymore.”

Echo paused, his gaze lingering on the figure before him, as if his mind had drifted far beyond the moment. After a beat of silence, he spoke softly, almost as if recalling a distant memory. “I felt something like that... after Skako Minor,” he said, his voice thick with a past that still haunted him. He fell quiet for a moment, looking around as if the present had suddenly become too sharp. His eyes, however, soon found something that grounded him—Omega, laughing joyously as he swung from Hunter’s outstretched arms. The sound of Omega's laughter echoed, a brief, fleeting reminder of simpler times, and for a moment, it seemed to pull Echo back to the here and now.

Echo cleared his throat, the weight of his words lingering in the air before he continued, his voice quieter, yet tinged with an intensity that made every syllable feel heavy. “Everything I knew… was gone. My brothers, my squadmates—one by one, they fell during the war. Fives, even, after I was gone. It was as if the world I once knew had vanished, and I was left standing in a place that no longer fit me. The 501st, the camaraderie... it all felt distant, like I was someone else entirely. I could see it in Rex’s eyes, the way he hesitated, the way he couldn’t look at me without that weight of guilt and confusion. That look stayed with him the whole ride back. He was angry—angry at the war, at the situation, maybe even at me. Ashamed of what had happened, what we’d lost. It made me feel confused... so damned confused about where I fit into this new world.” Echo’s voice softened, a touch of bitterness creeping in as he finished, “It’s why I haven’t—”

Tech turned towards his brother, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he realized how freely his own thoughts had spilled out. He had expected an interrogation, perhaps even a stern lecture, urging him to swallow his frustrations and push through, to return to Leena despite the strain. But instead, Echo was speaking to him, revealing the rawness of his own struggles. He was opening up about the overwhelming challenge of returning after his imprisonment, attempting to show that he understood the deep, emotional turmoil that came with such life-altering changes. It was clear now why Echo had been the last to address his split—it wasn’t just about his connection with Mae or his own marital difficulties. No, it ran deeper. Echo's silence had come from a place of empathy, of understanding how difficult it could be to navigate personal turmoil when the world around you was shifting in ways you couldn’t control.

Tech's mind raced as the realization clicked into place, and his words followed, almost as if completing the thought that had been left unsaid. "That’s why you haven’t discussed my recent separation from Leena," he murmured, his voice quiet but full of understanding.

“I trust that you would never make a decision without weighing all the consequences first,” Echo began, his tone steady but firm. “I think the others... they’re coming at this situation from a different angle. They’re focused on how things might look, how it might reflect on them, maybe not fully understanding that you’ve been carrying this for a long time. You’ve thought about it, mulled it over, worked through every possible outcome. That much is clear.” Echo’s gaze met his brother’s, unwavering. “If you’ve come to the conclusion that this is the best decision for you, then who am I to judge? It’s your call, not theirs.”

“It feels… selfish,” Tech admitted, his voice tinged with doubt. “I worry that I’m admitting defeat, like I’m saying I can’t make it work when I made a commitment. Isn’t it unfair to her if I just give up when things get difficult?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, the bitterness he’d been holding inside finding its way to the surface. He stared down at his hands, nervously gnawing at the dry skin around his nail beds with the edges of his teeth, his mind swirling in frustration. The habit was one he often relied on in moments of discomfort, a way to distract himself from the anxiety that gnawed at his insides. The need to do something, anything, only heightened his unease as he waited for Echo’s response, as if the silence between them would somehow make the weight of his doubts heavier.

Echo studied him for a long moment, his expression softening as he took in the turmoil written so plainly on his brother’s face. “It’s not selfish to acknowledge that something isn’t working,” Echo said quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle. He stepped closer, his words thoughtful but firm. “It’s okay to admit that things are hard, that not everything you thought you could fix is going to be fixed. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up; it just means you’re recognizing your own limits, and that’s… that’s something most people never do.”

Echo paused, letting the silence hang between them for a moment. “You made a commitment, yes. But that commitment doesn’t have to mean staying in something that’s hurting both of you. It’s about finding what’s best in the long run, not just for you, but for her too. Sometimes that means letting go, even when it feels like failure.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Tech muttered, his voice quieter now as he looked down, his hands slowly falling into his lap. The weight of Echo’s words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Tech felt the full force of a truth he had been avoiding. There was a chance—no, a strong possibility—that the differences between him and Leena ran so deep, so fundamentally incompatible, that no amount of effort on his part could ever truly fix them. He had spent so much time focused on wanting to make things work, on believing that his commitment and determination could overcome any obstacle. But now, the reality hit him: some differences couldn’t be bridged, and no matter how much he tried, they would only lead to more pain, more misunderstandings, more hurt feelings—for both of them.

Tech had said something similar to Leena when he told her he couldn’t continue the relationship, that staying together was only going to cause more damage. He had framed it as a way to stop the hurt, a noble reason to walk away. But even then, he hadn’t truly internalized it. It had been easier to speak the words than to accept them fully, to acknowledge the depth of the situation. He’d told himself that they could still work things out, that the discomfort would eventually fade. But now, faced with the weight of Echo’s perspective, the truth felt heavier. It wasn’t just about wanting to fix it; sometimes, some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how much you wanted them to be.

“Permission to speak freely?” Echo asked, his voice low as he reached for the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. The sounds of the party faded into the background, a few yards away, giving them the necessary space to talk without interruption. Fortunately, the distance also meant they were out of earshot of Leena, who was somewhere in the crowd with her ever-present shadow, Chori, keeping a watchful eye.

Tech gave a slight nod, his throat tight as he swallowed the contents of his glass in one smooth motion. He knew, logically, that drinking when he was already feeling this way wasn’t the best choice, but tonight, he allowed himself a rare indulgence. He was allowed to be irrational, just this once.

Echo watched him for a moment before speaking again, his voice soft but direct. “I’ve known something was off for a while, Tech. Not just with you and Leena, but with you in general. The way you’ve been... holding on to something that wasn’t quite there anymore. It’s not my place to say, but I’ve noticed. I’ve always been quiet about it, kept my thoughts to myself. Didn’t want to push, didn’t want to make you feel like I was intruding on something that you were still trying to make work.” He paused, his eyes meeting Tech’s, a quiet understanding passing between them.

“I could see the misalignment from the start, though. It was subtle at first, but it was there. The way you both reacted to each other, like you were trying to fit into a mold that didn’t suit either of you. I didn’t want to say anything because I know how much you wanted it to work—how much you tried to make it work. But after a while, it started to feel like an invasion of your space, like me saying something about it would have made things even harder for you, like I was pushing where I had no right to.”

Echo let out a quiet breath, his voice more thoughtful now. “I guess I held back because I didn’t want to be the one to make you face it, if you weren’t ready. I’ve always known you needed time to process things on your own. But I think, deep down, I knew this was coming. And now, it’s not about blame, Tech. It’s just... reality. Sometimes, the hardest thing is to admit that something you’ve put so much into can’t be fixed, no matter how much you want it to be.”

In many ways, Tech wished this were just another engineering problem. Something he could break down, analyze, and put away in a box, only to revisit when he had more time, or when he had acquired more knowledge about how to make it work. Machines had always made more sense to him than people ever could. They were predictable, logical, structured—everything he could understand with precision. People, on the other hand, were messy, complex, and far more difficult to navigate. It was how he was made, a soldier whose talents were inherently tactical, built for problem-solving in ways that had always been about mechanics, not matters of the heart. None of them had been created for domestic life, not in the way it demanded.

Perhaps, with more time, he could learn to approach this differently—to be gentler with himself, to stop holding himself to a standard he’d never been taught to meet. But that, too, would be a process. Tech wasn’t sure he’d ever fully figure it out. He wasn’t a man who excelled in emotions, not the way he excelled in finding solutions. He was just… a man, caught in the middle of something he didn’t have the skillset to process, trying to make sense of an area where his usual logical approach simply didn’t fit.

Tech cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of Echo's words settle in his chest. He glanced up at his brother, eyes steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. “Thanks, Echo,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “For saying what you did. It’s… it’s a lot to process, but it helps, more than you know.” He took another breath, the familiar knot of anxiety in his stomach tightening again. “You’ve always been good at providing a different perspective I hadn’t considered-”

His words trailed off as his gaze unconsciously shifted across the room. There, standing just outside the group, was Leena. She wasn’t looking at anyone else, her eyes locked on him with a focused intensity that made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Her posture was stiff, almost as though she were waiting for him to approach, or maybe for him to make some sort of decision.

The silence between them stretched, and Tech suddenly felt exposed, as if the weight of his conversation with Echo had somehow carried over into the moment. He swallowed hard, pushing his glass away and standing up abruptly. His legs felt unsteady as the room seemed to narrow in on him, and the very air around him thickened with an uncomfortable pressure.

“I… I need some air,” he muttered, the words half to himself, half to Echo. Without waiting for a reply, he made a hasty exit, his footsteps quick as he moved through the crowd, trying to shake the feeling that Leena’s gaze was still burning into him from across the room.

Tech didn’t dare look back as he moved through the party, the voices of the crowd muffled in his ears. His mind was racing too fast for him to focus on anything other than the need to escape, to put distance between himself and the uncomfortable knot that had settled deep in his gut. As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a sudden shock, and for a moment, he stood there, letting the breeze wash over him. The night sky stretched above, the stars sharp and distant.

He leaned against the wall of the building, eyes scanning the dark horizon, but all he could see were the images of Leena’s eyes—those eyes that felt like they were reading him, peeling back the layers he’d carefully built up, exposing every doubt and uncertainty he had tried so hard to hide.

He clenched his fists, the tightness in his chest growing with every passing second. He didn’t want to face her—not yet. Not with everything still so unresolved in his mind. But the longer he stood out there, the more it seemed impossible to avoid. The conversation with Echo had helped to clarify some things, but it hadn’t solved anything. He still didn’t know how to move forward, how to reconcile the commitment he had made with the growing distance between him and Leena.

The sound of footsteps approached, and Tech stiffened, his heart rate quickening. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. He could feel it, the shift in the air, the pull of her presence that seemed to demand his attention. Leena stepped into the dim light, her expression unreadable.

“You didn’t have to leave like that,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. Disappointment? Hurt? Or maybe it was just the strain of everything that had been left unsaid between them.

Tech swallowed, turning slightly to face her, but keeping his distance. “I wasn’t—" He paused, frustrated with himself for not knowing the right words. “I just needed some space.”

Leena’s gaze softened for a moment, but there was still a quiet sadness in her eyes. “I don’t want you to shut me out, Tech. Please don’t keep shutting me out. We can talk about this, we can talk it over-” She took a tentative step forward, but stopped herself, as if unsure whether to push or to wait for him to make the next move.

Tech could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of her words settling into the air between them. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t have the solution. He didn’t know what to say to fix this.

“I—” He started again, but once more, the words failed him. And for the first time, it felt like he wasn’t just facing a problem he could solve with logic. He was facing something far more complicated than that. 

On one hand, Tech felt a gnawing sense of obligation to honor her request, to not shut her out. He knew it was important to communicate, to not close himself off entirely. But something deep inside him resisted the idea. He had been down this road before, hadn’t he? It was that very mindset—putting her needs ahead of his own—that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Time and again, he had neglected his own well-being, sacrificing his peace and his happiness to make sure hers were met. Until, one day, he found himself so emotionally drained that even the simplest breath felt like a struggle.

He was used to yielding, used to bending to her wants because it felt easier, safer, but after his conversation with Echo, something had shifted in him. Maybe it wasn’t selfish to take a step back for himself. Maybe, for once, it was okay to deny his own instincts to always give in. The decision to split was one he knew, deep down, was for both their benefit. This relationship, as much as he had wanted it to work, had slowly chipped away at him, leaving him in a constant state of compromise without ever feeling like his own needs were truly met.

In giving in to her request now, in allowing himself to be swept up by her pleading, he’d be undoing everything he’d just begun to understand—everything he had started to rebuild, for his own well-being and for the sake of a future where both of them could heal.

“I want space, Leena,” Tech said softly, his voice quiet but firm, the words laced with the uncertainty of his own conflict. He wasn’t sure how harsh his tone had sounded, but he knew, deep down, it was the truth.

Leena’s gaze was intense, almost desperate, as she stepped closer to him. “Space?” she echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. “You’re just going to shut me out again? Tech, I’m right here. All I want is for us to work.” Her hands wrung together, a subtle sign of the growing tension she felt. “Why can’t you just let me in? I’m trying to help, to make this better.”

Tech’s chest tightened, the familiar feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He could feel her words pressing against him, tugging at his resolve. But inside, something shifted—something he couldn’t ignore. I need this. I need this distance. Separating is how we make this better for both of us.

“I already have explained myself to everyone, including you. I am so tired of explaining myself-” he said, his voice low and increasing with frustration, the words slipping out before he could fully steady himself. “I just... need space, Leena. I’m not sure what else to say.”

Her eyes began pooling with tears, but the change in her expression only seemed to fuel her determination. She took another step forward, her voice growing more and more hysterical by the moment. “I don’t want space Tech. I don’t want to lose you.”

Before Tech could respond, she reached out, her hand brushing gently against his arm, a silent request for him to listen, to stay connected. But the contact, the closeness, was too much. His pulse quickened, and a wave of discomfort washed over him. His skin felt too tight, his heart racing in a way that made him dizzy. Not only that but her very bold emotional reaction working to undo all his commitment to the split he desperately needed, nearly coming undone by her outburst.

“No,” he whispered, stepping back quickly, his breath catching in his throat. He looked at her, and for a moment, it seemed like the world had slowed down. “Don’t—don’t touch me.”

Leena froze, her hand still suspended in the air, a slight frown creasing her brow as she tried to process the shift in his demeanor. “Tech—”

His gaze hardened, and he swallowed, the words finally coming out with the clarity he’d been searching for. “I don’t regret this,” he said, the certainty in his voice surprising even him. “I don’t regret ending things. I don’t feel it is unfair to ask for space. I am asking you to respect that.”

At that, she began crying, mouth opening as the only coherent words slipping past her lips as she continued to step forward were mumbles of his name and unintelligible pleading.

“I can’t be the partner you need me to be. I have tried-”

Her gaze was intense, hurt flashing across her face as she took another step forward, hand once again seeking his as he once again pulled away, stepping back. “This isn’t just about you, Tech. This affects me, too. Don’t I deserve that effort-”

Tech closed his eyes for a moment, his head dipping in a slow, almost imperceptible shake as the familiar weight of guilt crept in once more. But the decision had been made. He couldn’t go back, even if it was uncomfortable. He had given everything he could, and no matter how much she refused to see it, that effort had been genuine. “You do deserve more, Leena,” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, the words softer now, as though they hurt to say. “And that’s exactly why I’m doing this. Because you deserve someone who can give you more than I’m able to. I can’t keep pretending this isn’t just as unfair to me as it is to you.”

He took a breath, the words flowing with a quiet conviction he hadn't expected to find. “You deserve a partner who doesn’t pull away, someone who can embrace your spirit instead of stifling it. I’ve failed you in so many ways, Leena. I’ve let you down, and it’s not right for you to keep asking me to continue failing you.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them—heavy and thick. Leena’s lips parted as if she was going to say something, but the words faltered, as if she was weighing her options, unsure how to respond without sounding desperate. Before she could reach for him again, a voice broke through the tension, sharp and direct. “Leena, stop.”

Kayden’s figure appeared at the edge of the conversation, her stance confident, arms crossed as she watched her sister with a knowing expression. “You’re not listening. He’s asking for space. And you need to respect that.”

Leena’s head snapped toward her sister, her eyes wide with surprise. “Kayden, I—”

“No,” Kayden interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re so focused on your own hurt that you can’t see it. He’s made his decision, Leena. He’s telling you he wants space. And you need to respect him.”

The words hit Leena like a physical blow, her face crumpling for a moment as if she hadn’t expected her sister to be the one to call her out. She glanced at Tech, her expression wavering, but there was no turning back. Kayden’s voice was like a fresh breath, cutting through the clouded air around them.

“You can’t keep pushing him into something he doesn’t want. He’s been clear, Leena. It’s not fair to either of you to keep holding on to something that’s already broken.” Kayden’s eyes softened just a touch, but she didn’t look away from her sister. “You deserve better than this... and so does he.”

Leena opened her mouth as if to protest, but her sister’s words hung in the air, silencing any further arguments. Her hands dropped to her sides, her gaze dropping as her shoulders slumped in defeat. For the first time, she wasn’t trying to convince him to stay. She was just… listening.

Tech took a deep breath, the tension leaving his body slightly as he glanced at Kayden, giving her a silent nod of gratitude. Then, his attention returned to Leena. “I’m sorry, Leena. I really am. But I need to do this... for both of us.”

There was a long pause before Leena finally nodded, her face unreadable as she turned away, walking slowly toward the door, her sister following behind her with a glance back at Tech. The room seemed emptier in the wake of their departure, but the weight on Tech’s chest lightened just a fraction.

He had stood his ground. And though the weight of it hurt more than he could have imagined, he knew, deep down, it was the right choice. As he made his way back to his home, the quiet victory settled within him—a sense that this could finally be the end of the cycle. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break they both needed to move on from the pain and the hurt.

Because, in the end, that was all he truly wanted.

Leena felt the sharp tug on her shoulder the moment she sank into the empty chair, her body heavy with exhaustion. She lifted a trembling hand to her eyes, wiping away the tears that had fallen too freely. Her emotions were a chaotic storm inside her—grief, anger, confusion. A part of her felt utterly betrayed. Kayden had chosen his side. Her own twin, the one who was supposed to stand by her, had sided with Tech—the man who was now tearing apart their marriage.

As Leena stared at the smeared mascara on her palm, the weight of Kayden's words crashed over her like a cold wave. The accusation was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn’t sure how to respond, or even if she could respond. Her twin, the one person who should have understood, had now tugged her into this painful conversation, pulling her away from the comfort of her own thoughts.

Tech’s revelation weeks ago had left her reeling, blindsided. He’d asked for space so suddenly, and in that moment, it felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t known things had gone so wrong. Once the initial shock wore off, all she was left with was a hollow, gnawing emptiness, and a suffocating sense of doubt. What had she done wrong? Was it her? Had she somehow failed him? The questions spun relentlessly in her mind, each one more accusing than the last.

She let out a shaky breath, feeling her chest tighten as the tears began to well again. She hated how weak she felt, hated that the tears wouldn’t stop, but she couldn’t stop them. Not now. Not when everything was unraveling, when her world was crumbling around her. She had given so much to this relationship, to Tech—her time, her love, her devotion—and this was how it ended? With him walking away, with her sister telling her to let him go? It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel fair.

Her mind drifted back to that conversation with Tech, the one that had shattered everything. She remembered his words so clearly, the way he had said it, as if there was no other choice. "I need space, Leena." Those words had cut through her like a blade, leaving her gasping for air. She had wanted to scream at him, to beg him not to do this, but all she could manage was a soft, broken plea for him to stay.

But he hadn’t.

And now, Kayden was standing in front of her, looking at her with eyes that seemed to ask why she was still holding on. Leena wasn’t sure how to answer. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. How could she explain the way her heart had been wrapped around Tech, how she had believed that if she just tried harder, if she just loved him better, everything would fall into place? She hadn’t been ready to let go. And even now, part of her wasn’t.

Kayden’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Leena,” she said softly, her tone more gentle now, though still firm. “I know this hurts. I know you want to fight for it, but you can’t keep clinging to something that’s already broken. You can’t keep sacrificing yourself for a relationship that isn’t right for either of you-” 

"Tech is right for me, Kay!" Leena snapped, her frustration finally spilling over, the harshness in her voice unfiltered. The strain had been building for days, but it was the wallowing, the constant replaying of her pain, that made it so difficult for her to step back and see the bigger picture. Kayden had been patient—too patient—but it was clear that the longer the situation dragged on, the more it tested her own limits.

Fights between them were rare, but the longer Leena clung to her hurt, the more it pushed Kayden to her breaking point. Kayden, once confused and uncertain just like everyone else, had slowly come to understand how deeply this was affecting Tech—how long he'd been quietly bearing the weight of it all. Conversations with Crosshair, Mae, and others had opened her eyes to the toll it was taking on him.

“Is he?” Kayden’s voice was cold now, her patience thinning. “I thought you hated how he spoke to you sometimes—like you couldn’t understand anything unless he explained it to you as if you were... incapable.”

Leena opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She knew her sister wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said out loud stung in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Or how many times you’ve cried to me about how late he stays up working, leaving you alone at night,” Kayden continued, her voice gaining strength. “You’ve said yourself that his need for sleep—or lack of it—makes you feel... invisible. You’re lonely, Leena. And you’re scared to admit it.”

Leena flinched, her chest tightening at the truth in Kayden’s words. It wasn’t something she liked to admit—not even to herself. But the more Kayden spoke, the more she saw the cracks in her perfect vision of Tech and their relationship. Maybe Kayden was right. Maybe it wasn’t all Tech that was the problem. Maybe... maybe it was something deeper.

“Those aren’t too big to overcome, we can work through them,” Leena hummed, her voice lacking the conviction she wanted to project. She acknowledged the points her sister was making about the struggles in her marriage, but she dismissed them, unwilling to believe they were significant enough to drive a wedge between her and Tech. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was just too painful to accept the possibility that the cracks might be irreparable.

Kayden’s voice was flat, unwavering, as she asked, “Do you remember when we were kids? The one thing you always said you wanted from a man?”

Leena froze for a moment, taken aback by her sister’s sudden shift in tone. She hadn’t expected this particular memory to surface, especially not now. But before Leena could respond, Kayden pressed on, her words blunt and sharp. “You said all you ever wanted was someone who would laugh at all your jokes. You remember that night? The one where you made us sit through your rehearsed comedy routine? You told us you’d only marry a man who thought you were the funniest person on the planet. Well, Leena, Tech is not that man. He never was. He doesn’t get your humor. He doesn’t match your playful spirit at all, and I am so tired of watching you shrink yourself, stifling that part of you just to keep him happy.”

Leena felt her chest tighten, the words sinking deep into her. She hadn’t expected Kayden to bring up the ways in which she had changed—how she’d learned to be quieter, how she’d stopped being spontaneous, and how she had begun to second-guess herself, wondering whether any of her jokes would be too much for Tech. It had happened slowly, like a shadow creeping over her, but it had become undeniable. She had altered herself, had dulled parts of her personality to fit into the mold she thought Tech wanted. To fit into a life that no longer felt as joyful or free.

Admitting it out loud, even to herself, was painful—like ripping a bandage off an old wound. The realization that she had sacrificed pieces of who she was just to make her relationship work felt like a betrayal, not just to Tech, but to herself.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat. How could she respond? How could she justify the parts of herself that she had buried? She glanced down at her hands, the weight of the conversation pressing on her chest.

Kayden’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “I just want you to see what’s happening, Leena. You’ve changed for him, and you don’t even seem to realize it. You’ve become this quieter version of yourself, this shadow of the woman I used to know. And it breaks my heart to see it. You deserve someone who sees you—all of you. Someone who can laugh with you, who doesn’t need you to be something you’re not.”

Leena swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. The truth felt like a stone lodged in her chest, and the more she tried to push it aside, the heavier it grew. Her heart ached as she realized that Kayden wasn’t wrong. Tech hadn’t been the one to stifle her; it was her own fear of losing him that had pushed her to change. She had thought that by being quieter, more reserved, she could make things easier for him. But in doing so, she’d lost parts of herself—parts she wasn’t sure how to get back.

Kayden’s eyes softened further, but the conviction in her voice didn’t waver. “You don’t have to lose yourself to make a relationship work, Leena. You just need to be yourself. Same as Tech needs to be himself.”

Leena sat silently for a long moment, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as Kayden’s words echoed in her mind. She felt a tightness in her chest, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. Kayden was right, she knew it, but the truth was so much harder to face than she had anticipated. The idea that she had changed herself to fit someone else's expectations, that she had let go of pieces of who she was just to make her relationship work—it was too painful, too much to process all at once.

“I... I can’t do this right now, Kayden,” Leena whispered, her voice breaking as she pulled her hands away, as if physically distancing herself from the truth. She stood abruptly, her eyes welling up with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t talk about this anymore.”

Kayden was silent for a moment, taken aback by her sister’s sudden withdrawal. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Leena shook her head quickly, her face flushing with a mixture of frustration and helplessness.

“I just... I need space, okay?” Leena snapped, the words sharp but muffled by the weight of everything she was feeling. “I need to be alone.”

Kayden frowned, her brows furrowing in concern, but she didn’t press further. She knew pushing Leena right now wouldn’t help. The walls were up, and trying to break them down would only make her retreat further.

"Leena, you don't—" Kayden began, but Leena cut her off, her voice strained with an intensity she hadn’t shown before.

“Please, Kayden,” she said quietly, but with a firmness that brooked no argument. “I just need a moment. I can’t deal with all of this... not right now.”

Kayden bit her lip, watching her sister step away from the conversation, her heart heavy with the weight of what had been said—and what had not been said. She knew Leena was hurting, but some truths were too hard to confront all at once.

Leena turned on her heel and quickly made her way toward the door, pausing just before she stepped out. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said softly, barely above a whisper, before disappearing into the quiet of the night.

Kayden stayed seated, her gaze following her twin’s retreating figure. She didn’t chase after her. Leena needed space, and if she was going to find her way through this, she needed to find it on her own terms.

Kayden just hoped she’d find it soon.

Chapter 2 HERE

Art by the lovely @leenathegreengirl!

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

Something About You || Captain Rex x OFC (Mae Killough)

Pairing: Captain Rex X Original Female Character (Mae Killough); mentions of @leenathegreengirl's PabuVerse characters!

Word Count: 8,800

Warnings: Mention of troubled past (think Henry the 8th vibes honestly). Tooth rotting fluff honestly - they are so freaking cheeky and sweet its painful at times.

AN: Hi friends! Part Two of Rex & Mae's story is finally out! I have already started working on a part three, but for now, I recommend going back and reading part one if you haven't. If you have, full steam ahead! Massive shout out to my dear friend @leenathegreengirl for her amazing art featured in the cover and the full image at the end! Seriously, I cannot thank you enough for bringing them to life! Linked below is Part 1, as well as bit more info on Mae! Anyway without further ado...

PART 1 || Mae Bio || Mae Q&A || PART 3 (coming soon....)

Masterlist

Shimmering, translucent waters stood in stark contrast to the stormy, eerie oceans of Kamino. Rex had never understood why anyone would choose to spend time by the sea until he followed the others down to the beach. The warm, sandy shores, cool shade from swaying trees, and pristine waters that caressed his skin were indulgences he hadn’t known he craved.

Initially, he had donned a pair of stretchy shorts tossed his way by Hunter, only to appease Omega. She had appeared at dawn, eager to reveal the island's delights. Rex found it hard to refuse her, especially since her hair shared his distinctive hue, a welcome departure from the standard brown of the Fett genome.

As he and Omega led the way, the path through the trees opened up to a breathtaking vista. The refreshing scent of salt lingered in the air, waves lapped peacefully against the shore, and birds called to one another. Flowers crowned the bushes lining the treeline, and the warmth of the sand beckoned. Amidst it all, a figure glided gracefully over the waves.

Rex was captivated, the sunlight dancing off the water and illuminating porcelain skin. He barely noticed Omega cup her hands around her mouth, her voice ringing out as she called, “Mae!”

Startled, the figure with damp red hair turned toward them, waving before diving into the water. Rex’s heart raced for a moment until he spotted her head reemerging, breaking the surface with a splash.

“Isn’t it amazing? The locals call it surfing. Mae’s been trying to teach me, but it’s harder than it looks,” Omega chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Rex could only manage a small nod before following her into the sunlit paradise.

As Rex helped set down the box of assorted items he had been given before their journey, he focused on arranging the space according to Omega's enthusiastic instructions. He laid out a few blankets on the sand, turned the crate upside down to create a makeshift table, and propped up some tarps for shade. She had even designated a hammock in the trees for her grumpy brother, Crosshair.

The murmurs of the island's residents drifted around them as more of Omega's brothers and their companions arrived to soak up the sun. Rex felt a twinge of unease; it was a rare luxury to relax, and in truth, he hardly knew how to embrace it. The sound of footsteps in the sand and something being driven into the ground behind him intensified his brief moment of concern.

“Ready to try it again, Omega?” came a cheerful voice that stirred memories of the previous night. He had awakened to find several of his brothers and Omega peering down at him, and he couldn’t help but feel a hint of disappointment that she had slipped away during the night. Now, she stood before him, clad in a skintight black mesh fabric reminiscent of his armor's undersuit, and he was suddenly acutely aware of her curves.

Last night, he had tried not to stare, captivated instead by her bouncing red curls as she spoke. But today, avoiding glances at her figure would prove to be a challenge.

“What do you say, hun?” she asked, her syrupy-sweet voice cascading over her plump lips, completely capturing his attention.

Rex initially hummed in response, thinking she was addressing Omega, but it quickly dawned on him that her gaze was fixed on him. Both she and Omega were watching him expectantly, and he felt warmth rising in his cheeks. “Oh, uh—”

“Mae asked if you wanted to try! It’s lots of fun!” Omega chimed in, her excitement palpable as Rex contemplated her suggestion. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his hesitation in his throat as he glanced at the surfboard. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“Omega, I think the Captain could use some rest and relaxation, not a workout—”

“I’ll do it!”

The words slipped from his lips in a rush, surprising both Mae and himself. Standing there, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, uncertain about what he had just agreed to as he awaited her response. Blinking away the shock of his own outburst, he caught Mae's smile, her palms gliding over her hips before she gestured toward Omega.

“Oh, wonderful! Omega, darlin’, could you grab one of the extra boards from over there? Preferably one of the bigger ones.”

Clearing his throat to stave off any potential voice cracks, Rex attempted to recapture the lighthearted banter they had shared the night before. “Are you calling me fat there, Doc?” he quipped.

Her laughter was as sweet as he remembered, her head shaking in amusement. “Not at all, Captain. You’re far from it—though I might suggest taking off your shirt,” she added casually, stepping away to assist Omega.

Confused by the sudden need to consider her opinion on his physique—a fact he had never questioned, given the demands of war that had kept him in peak shape—Rex caught the lingering gaze of Hunter. A smirk danced on Hunter's face, the side devoid of tattoos, as he gestured toward Rex. “Best not to keep her waiting, Captain. It’s not every day a pretty lady asks you to strip.”

“You coming?” Mae asked, prompting Rex to glance back over his shoulder. He nodded briefly and, without another word, tore off his shirt, stepping into the sunlight. As his bare feet sank into the warm sand, he caught the sound of Hunter snickering behind him and tried his best to tune it out.

“How would you rate your balance?” she asked, her gaze searching his own for a genuine answer.

“Fairly decent, I suppose,” Rex shrugged, unsure how balance could be measured, his hand rubbing along the nape of his neck.

“I can work with that. We’ll start on land,” she explained, gesturing to the board propped beside her. Assuming she meant for him to pick it up, he was surprised by how light it felt in his hands. Mae tucked her own under her arm and headed closer to the water's edge, and he followed her silently.

“Any reason we’re starting on land?” he asked skeptically.

“Well, it’s easier to practice the movements here, where you’re stable, before trying them on the water. Don’t worry—I think you’ll be a natural,” she said with encouragement as she set the board down in the sand. Rex followed suit, placing his board a few paces away from hers.

He watched as she lay across her board, positioning herself vertically on her stomach, and mimicked her stance.

“Alright, I’m correct in assuming that GAR conditioning has made you quite familiar with push-ups?” she asked, glancing over at him as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Yes,” he replied, recalling the rigorous training the clones had undergone since their youth, which continued throughout the war.

“Perfect! That’s half the battle,” she said with a smile. “I’ll walk you through the motion if you want to follow along—”

“Right,” he said, placing his forearms down on the board just like she did.

“So, when you’re paddling out, you’ll want to push over the sides of the board until you’re on the wave. From there, pull your hands back to your sides and place your palms flat on the board near your chest,” Mae instructed. Rex followed her directions without hesitation, eager for her to continue.

“Perfect! This part should be easy for you. Just do a push-up and hold yourself on your toes,” she said, demonstrating the movement. Rex watched her lower body lift effortlessly off the board, then shook his head and mimicked her.

“Now, this is where it starts to get tricky, especially on the water. Move the leg you want as your back foot and place it near your other knee, keeping your toes on the board while maintaining your balance,” she explained. Rex observed as Mae positioned herself in a way reminiscent of a ‘mountain climber.’ He copied her movements, nodding for her to go on.

“Okay, now take your other leg and place your foot between your hands, keeping your knee bent.” She executed the motion with impressive speed, tucking her small frame up onto both feet and holding steady as she waited for him to catch up. As Rex did his best to follow suit, she nodded and pushed herself into a standing position, prompting him to quickly do the same before she could offer more guidance. He realized that while the movement felt straightforward on solid ground, it would be much more challenging on an unstable board in the water.

“Great! I knew you’d be a natural. Do you want to try it on your own to see if you’ve got it down? Then we can head out,” she said, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. A part of Rex wondered if his ability to grasp the movement had genuinely impressed her. 

Running a hand through his hair, he nodded and lowered his body again under her watchful gaze. Doing his best to recall the movements from memory, he felt confident in his performance. Just as he focused on where his front foot landed, he felt gentle fingers graze his jaw, guiding his face forward.

“Looks perfect, but remember to keep your gaze forward. Looking down can throw off your balance; focus on where you’re going, not where you’ve been…” she advised, her fingers retracting as swiftly as they had brushed against his skin. A warm flush spread across his face as she pulled away, leaving behind a lingering sensation that felt almost electric.

Using his strength to push himself up, despite the brief lightheadedness from her fleeting touch, he soon found himself towering over her again. A bright smile lit up her face, revealing her white teeth as she nodded at him. “Perfect! Let’s try it in the water,” she said, nudging his shoulder before disappearing to sit in the sand.

Curious about her sudden retreat, he watched as she took a small strap from the back and wrapped it around her ankle. He mirrored her movements in silence, noting how her gaze wandered over his frame. He knew there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen before. She was a doctor, and one who had worked with clones before. His tan skin and frame hardly differed from those around him. However, he knew his scars might be different as they told his own unique story. He felt her eyes linger on the center of his chest, where a bullet had almost claimed his life.

Red hair dramatically bounced as she realized she’d been caught staring, her eyes darting away at the last moment as she pushed herself off the ground. Rex had always been attuned to the movements of others, a skill honed over years of watching targets and surveying for danger. Her hurried movements now lacked the grace he had admired before, leaving him to wonder what thoughts occupy her mind.

Before he could linger on his thoughts, she sprinted toward the water, and he hurried after her, eager to keep pace. “Come on, Soldier!” she called back, her voice ringing with excitement as she dove into the ocean, vanishing beneath the waves. He followed suit, delighting in the refreshing coolness of the water against his skin. Carefully placing his board atop the gentle swell, he watched it bob as he stood near the shore, waiting for her to reappear.

“Do you want to try standing up here before we head out further?” Mae asked, suddenly popping up on the other side of the board, her arms gracefully shifting as she positioned herself. Assuming her suggestion came from a genuine desire to see him succeed, he nodded and hoisted himself up in the shallow water while she held the edges steady.

He immediately felt the difference of being in the water and approached the motion of standing with extra care. Once his feet were firmly planted, he rose with as much grace as he could muster. The board rocked beneath him, and when he looked down, he saw Mae beaming as she released her grip, allowing him to fully experience the push of the waves. With a joyful splash, he jumped back in, swimming close to her as she applauded. “I think you’re ready to head out and try it for real!” she said, her enthusiasm shining through.

With a nod, he watched as she effortlessly pulled herself onto the board and demonstrated how to paddle out. As soon as he grasped the motion, his gaze drifted to the captivating scene before him: the ripples of her arm slicing through the water, the sunlight glinting off her wet red hair, and the curve of her figure as she paddled ahead, her black swimsuit accentuating her silhouette.

Perhaps it was the thrill of being able to gaze without interruption, but he couldn’t help but watch her throughout their journey into deeper water. When she turned around and effortlessly hoisted herself up on the board, he quickly glanced away, not wanting her to catch him staring. He remained horizontal, moving closer and propping himself up on his elbows, ready for her to explain.

But she seemed completely absorbed in her desire to catch a wave, laying back down and paddling away, leaving him behind. 

His brown eyes carefully tracked her movements, admiring the ease with which she glided through the water. She rose as if it were second nature, standing tall atop the wave as she distanced herself from him. To his astonishment, she even had the audacity to walk along the length of the board while riding it, only to leap off into the shallow water moments later.

Knowing it would be a moment before she returned, he pulled himself into a seated position and settled in to wait. Even though he understood the movements, he still felt a twinge of unease about trying it without her guidance. As she paddled closer, she grinned and waved, and he couldn’t help but mirror her smile. She looked truly at peace—much happier than the day before, when exhaustion and stress had weighed her down. Now, she radiated lightness and joy, enjoying the water not as a task, but as a pure source of delight. Perhaps it was a type of relaxation he could come to understand in time. 

“How’d you do that?” he asked once she was close enough for him to see the dimples in her cheeks.

“What, walking?” she replied casually.

“Yeah, it looked so effortless,” he complimented.

“Practice. Time. Definitely not a move for beginners like you. Speaking of which—” she nudged her head toward his board, “are you ready to give it a shot on your own?”

“I suppose. I can already tell paddling is going to be quite the arm workout,” he said, gesturing as she let out a light laugh.

“It is! How do you think I got these guns?” she said playfully, flexing her surprisingly impressive bicep for someone her size. Unsure why he felt compelled to comment, he was even more taken aback when a cheeky remark slipped from his lips.“Whoa there, Ma’am! Do you know how to handle a loaded weapon like that?” 

From shock at his quick remark to a teasing smirk, she shot back, “Not sure, Captain. Why don’t you come over and give me some firearm training since that’s your area of expertise?” Her laughter rang out as she turned away, leaving him momentarily speechless, mouth agape. He blinked in disbelief, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. “Well, I do have a few tactical moves up my sleeve,” he called after her, trying to regain his composure.

She glanced back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, really? I’m intrigued!”

With a newfound determination, he pushed off the board and paddled toward her, his confidence slowly building. “Alright, just remember: I’m an expert in this field,” he teased, aiming for a lighthearted banter as he caught up with her.

As they floated side by side, he couldn’t help but admire the way the sunlight danced on the water around them, mirroring the playful energy between them. “Most important part of handling weapons is making sure they are properly maintained” he asked, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to her arms as the woman caught on to what he was insinuating with a laugh. 

She laughed again, the sound like music in the salty air. “Oh of course, Captain! Might I need to pass your expert inspection…?”

He grinned, enjoying the playful tension between them. “Absolutely! I take my inspections very seriously,” he replied, feigning a serious expression that quickly broke into a smile. 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her laughter. “Well, I hope you’re thorough,” she said, inching a little closer on her board. 

“Thoroughness is my specialty,” he quipped, feeling a rush of excitement. He studied her arms, the sun casting a warm glow on her skin, and added, “You’ve clearly put in the time. Those guns are impressive.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain,” she replied with a wink, leaning back slightly as if to give him a better view. “But can you keep up with me when it comes to the real action?”

“Oh, I think I can handle a little competition,” he shot back, his competitive spirit ignited. With that, he paddled ahead, urging her to follow. The chase was on, and the thrill of the moment filled the air. As they raced across the water, laughter and splashes followed them, the sun warming their skin and the ocean breeze carrying away any lingering doubts. He felt alive, invigorated by both the challenge and her presence. 

There was something refreshing about the way he could be both playful and straightforward with her. Rex couldn’t recall the last time he’d flirted so unashamedly with a woman—certainly not for the simple joy it brought him, rather than with the aim of a quick hookup. But as she surged ahead in their race toward the shore, her board catching a wave and propelling her effortlessly forward, he found himself grappling with a revelation: he was flirting with Mae.

She was the same charming doctor who had shown kindness to Echo and every man he’d sent through Pabu. The woman who had welcomed Aiko and made her feel at home. Everyone seemed to hold her in high regard, and Rex had quickly come to appreciate her even more after catching glimpses of her past. There was a depth to her that drew him in, making this playful exchange feel all the more significant.

Silencing the nagging voice inside him that questioned “why,” he attempted to stand, following the motion he’d practiced. His feet barely made contact with the board before he found himself sliding off into the cool water. Breaking the surface, he spotted Mae watching him with a playful smirk. “You put your front foot down first—that’s what made you fall off the back,” she critiqued, her tone light as he blinked, processing her words. It dawned on him that she was right; he had indeed led with his front foot. 

“You need to establish a firm foundation first,” she continued, offering a smile. “That said, it wasn’t a bad first attempt. I’m sure we’ll get you there in no time.” Her encouragement wrapped around him, igniting his determination to improve. He wiped the water from his eyes, feeling the coolness of the ocean embrace him as he grinned back at her. “Alright, then. Let’s try this again.” 

Mae nodded, her enthusiasm infectious. “Just remember, start with your back foot, and try to keep your weight balanced on the board,” Taking a deep breath, he swam back to the board, climbing on with renewed focus. He steadied himself, recalling her advice as he positioned his feet carefully this time. As he prepared to rise again, he glanced over at Mae, who watched with an encouraging smile.

“Ready?” she called, her excitement palpable.With a nod, he paddled out with the wave gaining momentum. As he felt the board finally catch along its pull, he  pushed up, this time leading with his back foot and shifting his weight more deliberately. For a brief moment, he felt the board stabilize beneath him. Just as he thought he might actually succeed, the wave surged, and he wobbled precariously. 

“Keep your core engaged!” Mae shouted, her voice cutting through the splash of the waves. He concentrated, trying to maintain his balance. But just as he thought he had it, the board tilted, and he found himself slipping again. This time, he fell with a splash, but as he broke the surface, he couldn’t help but laugh. Mae burst into laughter too, her joy infectious. “You’re getting closer! Just a bit more practice, and you’ll be a pro.” 

“Yeah, if I don’t drown first,” he joked, paddling back toward her, needing a moment as he found the paddling to be a bit more draining than he’d anticipated. 

“Can I make a suggestion?” she asked after a moment. He nodded, slightly puzzled, as she drifted closer. Pulling herself onto the board beside him, she abandoned her own board for a moment. Her hands lifted to his shoulders before sliding down to his elbows, gently raising them. “You can extend your arms to help stabilize yourself, but you’re really tense,” she said, her voice calm and encouraging. “You need to relax a bit…” She moved her hands back to his shoulders, her fingers gliding along his skin in a soothing manner. Gradually, he followed her advice, allowing the tightness in his shoulders to melt away under her gentle touch.

As he relaxed, he felt a warmth spreading through him, both from her touch and the shared moment. “How’s this?” he asked, trying to gauge her response. Her fingers flexed for a moment before disappearing from his body. “Much better,” she replied, a smile brightening her face. “Now, focus on your balance and the rhythm of the water. You can do this.”

He took a deep breath, feeling the gentle rocking of the board beneath them. “Alright, I’ll give it another go,” he said, determination bubbling up within him. 

“Just remember to keep your core engaged and take your time,” she added, her hands pushing off his board as she returned to her own once more. Offering a reassuring grin she told him. “You’ve got this.” With her support, he began to paddle once more. Pushing himself up again, leading with his back foot and extending his arms out for balance. This time, he felt more stable, the water beneath him less daunting.

“See? You’re doing great!” Mae cheered, her enthusiasm infectious.

For a brief moment, he found his footing, gliding over the gentle waves with newfound confidence. But just as he began to believe he had mastered it, a larger surge bumped into the board. He wobbled precariously, and before he could adjust, he tumbled into the water once more.

Emerging with a splash, he laughed, shaking his head as he glanced over the top of the bobbing waves.“Hey, every attempt is a victory!” she called out, her laughter mingling with his own as she paddled closer. “You’re making more progress than you realize. Let’s try again!”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Returning to shore with a lighter air around him, he followed behind the doctor as she insisted they should take a break, claiming she was tired. Deep down, he knew her suggestion was really for his benefit. Rex had severely underestimated how draining the activity could be. Still, he felt a swell of pride for the progress he’d made.

“You looked a bit awkward out there, Rex. Surfing is harder than you thought, huh?” Hunter joked as they approached the spot where the rest of the group had gathered.

“I don’t see you out there giving it a shot,” Rex shot back.

“I value my reputation, thank you very much. Can’t have people watching me make a fool of myself like some people,” Hunter replied, a playful smirk on his face. Rex scoffed at the insinuation, laughter bubbling up between them.

“Oh hush, he’s doing great. Although any more sun and you are going to start burning there Captain-” she nodded towards him as she held a bottle of what he assumed was some sort of sun protection. 

“You’re one to talk,” he said, gesturing to her cheeks, already flushed from the sun despite the sunscreen she had applied.

“Some of us are just a bit less immune to solar radiation,” Mae replied, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I could use some help with my back.”

Rex felt a swirl of excitement and apprehension at her request. Part of him relished the idea of being close enough to touch her, while another part worried about what that might mean. Yet, she had already touched him several times, each encounter feeling casual and comfortable. Taking a deep breath, he chose to embrace the moment. “Not a problem, ma’am,” he said, trying to sound confident.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” she giggled, her fingers deftly grasping the zipper of her wetsuit and tugging it down from her sternum to her bellybutton. As she slipped her arms free from the material, Rex stepped forward, his gaze instinctively dropping to the ground to avoid staring as she applied sunscreen to her front. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her being particularly careful, making sure every inch of her chest was covered before moving on to the rest of her body. She bent at the waist to lotion her legs, her bottom brushing close to him as he struggled to keep his focus on the lapping waves instead of the fact she’d shoved her quite round bum near him. 

“Alright, you’re up!” she said with a playful giggle, waving the bottle of sunscreen. Rex raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Me?”

“Your back!” she clarified, gesturing toward him. Suddenly, it struck him that she intended to help him out before he had a chance to return the favor. Turning around, he felt her step closer, the warmth radiating from her as she placed her palm on his right shoulder. The unexpected touch made him jump, eliciting a soft snicker from her as her delicate hands began to rub the lightly fragrant lotion into his skin.

Instantly, he felt the tension he had been holding since the start of the war begin to melt away under her nimble fingers. She moved with purpose, ensuring the lotion was absorbed without lingering too long, her hands gliding across the expanse of his back. When she finally withdrew, he turned to reach for the bottle, but she looked up at him with a bright smile and tilted her head slightly, saying, “Lean down for a second.”

His eyes widened in confusion as she gently cupped the side of his head, her thumbs brushing the tips of his ears. Unsure of her intentions, he choked slightly on his own saliva, which had been pooling in his mouth, and stammered, “What—?”

“Ears are one of the most common areas to develop melanoma,” Mae explained, reminding him that she was a doctor. Her intentions were purely clinical; she aimed to highlight a vulnerable area prone to severe damage. Clearing his throat, he looked down into her eyes and noticed a delicate ring of gold encircling her blue irises just before she met his gaze.

“Good to know,” he said, and as she nodded, he felt compelled to add, “Thank you.” She acknowledged him with a slight bow of her head before handing him the bottle and turning her back to him. Her long red hair cascaded down, obscuring part of her shoulder. He gently tapped her shoulder and gestured, “Uh, you might want to—”

“Right,” she chuckled, gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling it out of the way. Just as he was about to place his open palm against her back, something caught his eye—a scar, almost like a brand, marred her right shoulder. It was unmistakably intentional.

He felt a surge of curiosity mixed with concern, racking his brain for a moment as to why it looked so familiar. His gaze lingered, and she turned her head slightly, asking, “Something wrong?”

Rex hesitated briefly before placing his hand in the center of her back, rubbing in the sunscreen gently while his mind raced, trying to recall where he’d seen that marking before. As he moved his hands lower, he felt her shiver at the contact just above her swim bottoms.

“Sorry,” he murmured, catching the airy, uncertain response from her. “You’re alright, hon,” she reassured him, though the warmth in her voice didn’t quite mask the hint of tension.

In that moment, the marking and her accent struck a chord within him, illuminating details of her past he hadn’t anticipated uncovering. The realization weighed heavily on him, a deeper understanding forming in the quiet space between them.

Killough. Rex recalled reading about them in the archives as the war progressed. Despite the Republic’s diminished presence in the Outer Rim and the overwhelming focus on the droid armies, he was aware of the criminal activities lurking in the shadows of the conflict. The Killough Clan was notorious—a wealthy and well-connected crime family deeply entrenched in the region. They frequently associated with the Pykes, the Hutts, and other dangerous organizations. Why else would she bear a brand from such an organization unless…

Fingers lightly grazing the burn, Mae turned away abruptly, her eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion as she stepped back from him. “Thank you,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Rex might have probed further, perhaps even flirted, if he hadn’t just stumbled upon a revelation that made his stomach sink. Surely she couldn’t be connected to them. Right?

“You’re welcome,” he replied, tension hanging thickly between them. The weight of the realization that he’d pieced together her past hung over them, a shadow neither could shake. For how the man perceived her reaction, it was clearly a painful subject, possibly even incriminating. And for her, he sensed that she feared he would judge her based on it.

This unspoken tension made their quick exit easier, each of them looking for an excuse to escape.

As Rex stepped away from the group, he struggled to reconcile the fun, flirty doctor he had been enjoying with the unsettling possibility of a darker past. The contrast left him feeling uneasy, and he needed time to process it all. Just as he made it to the treeline of the beach he heard a raspy voice say, “go away,”. 

Crosshair. 

Rex had forgotten the sniper had settled into a hammock away from the others in this direction. Not wanting to confront his prickly personality amid an internal crisis, he almost muttered “gladly” in annoyance as he stepped away.

“Problem…?” came Crosshair's voice, tinged with an unexpected concern as Rex turned to see him leaning over the edge of the hammock.

“You all— I mean, someone has to know… how—” Rex struggled to articulate his concern, the words eluding him as Crosshair’s dark eyebrow shot up in interest.

“I can’t believe you let Stitches lure you into her death trap she calls surfing,” Crosshair remarked, either attempting to deflect the conversation or tease him while he was vulnerable—Rex couldn't quite tell.

“And I can’t believe you all are letting a woman connected to a criminal enterprise roam freely, let alone neglect to warn a guy—” Rex shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Crosshair's sharp intake of breath and equally hostile tone cut through the air as he dropped to the ground beside Rex in the blink of an eye. “What did you just say?”

Caught off guard by the sudden transition from teasing to menacing, Rex straightened, irritation bubbling within him as he realized the enhanced clone had the height advantage.

“I said you’re all either ignorant or reckless for allowing a woman connected to the Killough Clan to roam freely—” Rex retorted, his voice steady despite the tension.

“I’d recommend you keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand and that don’t concern you—” Crosshair hissed, his tone icy. Rex clenched his fist, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but pressed on.

“It does concern me. I’ve spent all day in the company of a woman—”

“Mae. Her name is Mae,” Crosshair interjected sharply.

“Mae” he corrected before continuing, ”Who’s walking around with a brand from one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the galaxy,” Rex shot back.

“Like I said, stop involving yourself in things when you don’t know the whole story,” Crosshair warned, taking a step back, eager to distance himself from Rex before the tension escalated further.

“But-” 

“Don’t you think one of the first things Tech did when we saw that scar was investigate? We’re not fools. We know better than to get involved with dangerous people, especially for Omega’s sake. As for why she has that scar, that’s not my story to share. But I’d advise you to think very carefully before you disrespect a woman who’s spent the better part of a year cleaning up your messes without you even realizing it.” With that, Crosshair turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Rex momentarily speechless.

Glancing back at the water’s edge, Rex saw Mae standing waist-deep in the waves, her smile radiant as she demonstrated to Omega how to push up on the board. The memory of her gentle touch lingered in his mind, alongside the uncomfortable realization that Crosshair had been right: she had given him no real reason to worry. He didn’t know the full story, but he wasn’t about to find comfort in the words of a sniper with a blood-soaked past tied to the Empire. 

Rex knew he had to be cautious; survival depended on it, and that instinct was not something he could simply switch off. Yet, as he watched her vibrant red hair catch the sunlight, he felt a growing urge to extend some grace until he had more clarity.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The sun was beginning its slow descent over the water, casting a warm glow on the beach. Most of the group had retreated to clean up before dinner, leaving Rex alone with Hunter as Omega waved goodbye over her shoulder. 

“Someone should stay down here to make sure she’s okay,” Rex said, nodding toward Mae, who was now sitting on her board, watching the sunset with her back turned to them. She had kept her distance from him for most of the day, perhaps still affected by the moment he’d touched her scar or by his argument with Crosshair. Whatever the reason, he had retreated into himself since then.

Trapped in his own thoughts, Rex found himself trying to piece together the fragments of her past. Could she have been a slave? Maybe she was the child of an advisor? Or perhaps she had been tangled up with a former lover... 

As he glanced out at the silhouette of her figure breaking the horizon, a thought struck him: what if he simply asked her? She had been honest the night before about her experiences in the RAR. If she opened up it would certainly ease his own mind.

Spotting the board he had neglected earlier, Rex paddled out to meet Mae on the water. She was much further away than before, and it took him significantly longer to reach her. As he got closer, he noticed she still hadn’t taken her eyes off the sunset. With her legs drawn up on the board and her chin resting on her knees, she seemed lost in thought. Without her wetsuit, the pink of her shoulders stood out against the fading light.

He was certain she had sensed his approach, yet she remained silent. Uncertain of how to begin, Rex felt a wave of regret wash over him for seeking her out. What if she was angry? What if he had crossed a line and she needed space? The confidence he had felt just moments ago seemed to dissipate, leaving him anxious and unsure. Surely, things hadn't shifted from wonderful to tense so quickly.

He cursed the Kaminoans for programming him for war rather than for navigating human emotions. Throughout his life, he had been led to believe he wouldn’t need to engage with civilians, leaving him unprepared for moments like this. The decision to forgo pleasantries now felt like a misstep. Though he was a free man in many ways, he would eventually need to connect better with civilians.

In the past, he had mostly adhered to regulations, interacting only with a select few—like the Senator’s handmaidens or some hired help at the 79s. He remembered Jesse’s girl, the one who had gotten pregnant, whom he had helped off-world after the war. But those brief encounters hardly made him an expert in emotional matters.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” she said, her tone firm yet laced with a palpable dejection.

“Wha—” he started, but she turned abruptly, locking him with a gaze that made even the battle-hardened captain shrink under the intensity of her eyes.

“Please, don’t pretend you don’t understand. I know you saw it. I’m fully aware of what that mark signifies. I had hoped you would be the kind of man to ask me, rather than fleeing as if I personally were the one who committed those crimes,” she began, and in the brief moment she paused to run her hand over her hair he started to reply. 

“So that means you—”

“I’m not finished,” she interjected, her voice steady but infused with a quiet strength. He nodded, letting her continue. “Have you ever been on your own, Rex?” she asked, her gaze softening as she studied his features.

“I—uh, well, no. I can’t say I have. I’ve always had someone. My brothers, our Generals. There was always someone there,” he admitted.

“It’s not easy being alone at such a young age. I found out he was going to sell me off to some associate to be his bride. I endured years of abuse, watching my mother and every bride he took after, killed for giving him daughters. But learning I was to be ‘gifted’ to a man fifty years my senior was the final straw. When I escaped, I went to the one place I knew they’d be too afraid to look for me.” 

“Coruscant,” he filled in the blanks, understanding how she had become part of the Republic.

“I always wanted to be a doctor,” she continued, her voice tinged with longing. “I felt a sense of purpose when I patched myself and my sisters up. But medical school is expensive, and I left everything behind when I fled. I enlisted so I could study for free, to see the stars, knowing that it was too close to the Republic for them to ever find me again.” Mae closed her eyes, a soft breeze tugging at one of her damp curls before letting it settle by her shoulder once more.

“I—” he trailed off as she opened her eyes again. The fading light cast a silvery hue to them, momentarily captivating him and causing him to lose his train of thought. Regaining his composure, he pressed on. “I’m sorry for running off earlier. You have to understand, I’m a soldier. I’ve been trained to be hyper-aware of danger, even when it comes in unexpectedly beautiful forms.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m pretty, Captain?” she teased, a playful smile breaking through the tension and bringing a moment of ease between them.

He chuckled softly, a warmth spreading through him. “Perhaps it is. But it’s more than that. It’s how you handle yourself. You’re strong, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “So you’re saying strength is attractive?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone earnest. “In my experience strength like that, it’s a rare quality. Most people hide behind walls, but you seem to embrace your experiences. That and admittedly-“ he looked at her with a smile before saying, “you are very candid,”

She tilted her head, considering his words. “Well, it hasn’t always been easy. But I’ve learned that there can be strength in vulnerability.”

Rex felt a shift in the air, a new understanding forming between them. “I’ve always been told to keep my guard up, but maybe there’s something to letting it down sometimes.”

“Exactly. You don’t have to carry the weight alone,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “We all have our battles, Rex. Sharing them can lighten the load.”

He nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Then maybe I can start by sharing a bit more… that is, if there was someone willing to listen..?” His tone conveys a question rather than a statement as her eyes flash with understanding.

“Good,” she said, her smile returning. “I would be honored,” the redhead told him as he turned away, suddenly bashful at the notion. 

“Remind me to give you my comm channel when we get back,” the man said, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun just began to peek over the water. Darkness would soon envelop them, and he knew they should return, but a part of him yearned to stay.

The weight of the moment hung in the air, inexplicable yet significant, as if the atmosphere crackled with unspoken energy. He felt a flicker of hope at the prospect of friendship and the stability it could bring—especially with someone who had been quietly supportive without him even realizing it. Memories of Crosshair’s words flashed through his mind, mingling with the insights he had gained the night before.

“Hey Mae?” he called, drawing her attention from the fading sun to him. She lifted her head from her knees, a curious hum escaping her lips. “Thank you,” he said, sincerity threading through his voice.

He wasn’t entirely sure which part of her kindness he was acknowledging—her honesty about her past, her compassion towards his brother, her understanding of his nature, or the lightheartedness that made him feel at ease. Maybe it was simply the way she made him feel like just a man, watching the sunset with a remarkable woman. Regardless of the reason, he felt compelled to express his gratitude.

“Anytime, Rex,” she replied, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a soft smile. “But we should probably head back,” she added, letting out a gentle sigh.

“Yeah,” he agreed, stealing a glance at her. The sun had kissed her skin, giving her a warm glow. “You’ve been out in the sun all day. It’s definitely time we get you back.”

With that, they leisurely began to paddle back toward the shore, neither in any rush to end their time on the water. Eventually, as the shoreline beckoned, they reached the shallows. Rex and Mae hopped off their boards, the cool water swirling around their ankles as they walked back to the beach.

Just as they were about to step onto the sand, Mae paused, her fingers sifting through the sand below. A delighted sound escaped her lips as she unearthed something.

“What is it?” Rex asked, intrigued. He couldn’t help but find her childlike excitement endearing as she examined her find.

“Your armor—it's blue, right?” she asked, holding up the small object in her hand, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. He nodded as she held the small object up to the fading light, revealing a blue fragment nestled between her slender fingers. Unlike typical glass, it had a frosted appearance, giving it an almost ethereal quality. “It’s called sea glass,” she explained, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It forms when fragments of glass get smoothed out by the sand, making them soft to the touch instead of jagged like broken shards.”

She handed it to him, inviting him to examine it more closely. The color mirrored that of his blue armor, and it was indeed as smooth as she described. Yet, despite its beauty, Rex found himself puzzled by her delight over what he considered just a piece of discarded glass. Rex turned the sea glass in his hand, admiring its color and smoothness, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just an oddity. “It’s beautiful,” he said, trying to match her enthusiasm, “but why are you so excited about it? Isn’t it just… trash?”

Mae laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “That’s where you’re wrong! It’s not just trash. It has a story—it was once something else, maybe a bottle or a jar, and now it’s something new. Isn’t that kind of magical?”

He looked at her, contemplating her words. There was a profound depth to her appreciation that he hadn’t considered. “So you see beauty in… broken things?”

“Exactly! Just like us,” she said, her voice sincere. “We all have our own scars and stories, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find beauty in them despite the pain they once caused.”

Rex felt a flicker of understanding ignite within him. “I guess I’ve always focused on the damage itself rather than the possibility of finding beauty in it.”

Mae smiled, a gentle encouragement in her gaze. “It’s okay to feel that way. But remember, just like this sea glass, we are still here. Resilient and shaped by what we’ve endured into something entirely different,”

He handed the sea glass back to her, a newfound respect for its significance growing. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I suppose I needed a reminder.” She beamed at him, tucking the piece into her pocket as they continued their walk along the shore back towards her home, leaving the beach behind them. 

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The following morning brought with it the realization that he had to return to the stars and the mission that awaited him. After saying his goodbyes the night before, he decided to slip away quietly before anyone else woke up. He neatly folded the blanket from the sofa where he had slept and grabbed his bag, casting one last glance down the hall at Mae’s closed door. He knew she was likely still asleep, just as Echo and Aiko were in the other room. He didn’t want to disturb her; she seemed to be someone who rarely got the rest she needed.

Pabu in the early morning light was just as beautiful as it had ever been—quiet, warm, and inviting. It felt like home, even though he knew he shouldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable here. Yet, he understood why the others had found a sense of belonging.

Each step back toward his ship felt surprisingly lighter. After sharing his private communication channel with the talented doctor the night before, he left the decision to reach out in her hands. She had thanked him for finally showing his face after all the clones who had passed through her care on his behalf. He felt willing to let their friendship develop at its own pace, however that might unfold… for now.

Just as he caught sight of his ship’s outline, he heard the sound of light footsteps pattering behind him. Assuming it was Omega sneaking away to see him off, he turned, ready to greet the young girl. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a pair of bare feet on the stone and a shock of vibrant red hair.

“I heard the door close—” Mae began, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as Rex’s surprise quickly faded into a nod.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said sheepishly, his shoulders slumping as he realized he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d hoped.

“It’s okay. Someone should see you off, right?”

“I suppose,” he replied, setting his bag down for a moment, his mind racing with questions about why she had chosen to come out.

“I also forgot to give you this last night,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. When he didn’t respond, she rose onto her tiptoes, gently placing something over his head and letting it drape across his chest. Pausing for a moment, their eyes crossed one another. Her checks flushing at the recognition he was watching her closely. With that, Mae stepped back to allow him space once more, and he caught a light whiff of something feminine. Not exactly floral, but certainly reminiscent of the aromatic scents of the island tangled with perfume. 

Remembering why she’d stepped close to him in the first place, his hand south the item. It was the same piece of tumbled glass from the night before, but now it had a small hole at the top, threaded with a cord that extended to a leather band. “I thought you should have a memento from your first time on Pabu, and the blue matches your armor,” she explained as he turned the sea glass pendant over in his hand, marveling at its beauty and the thought behind it.

Rex held the pendant up to the soft morning light, the frosted blue glass shimmering delicately. A wave of warmth washed over him as he realized the significance behind Mae’s gift. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice sincere. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Mae’s smile widened, her excitement infectious. “It’s a reminder that even broken things can become something beautiful.”

He nodded, his fingers gliding over the smooth surface of the glass. As he reflected on his words, thoughts of her filled his mind. Mae came from a perilous past, having faced terrifying and uncertain situations that could have easily shattered her spirit. Yet here she stood, illuminated by the morning light, bare feet planted firmly on the ground, dressed in her nightgown—radiant and resilient. There was a strength in her that captivated him, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, one could emerge beautiful and stronger.

The pendant felt weighty yet comforting in his hand. “I’ll cherish it,” he promised. The gesture felt like a connection, something he could carry with him no matter where the stars took him.

“I hope it brings you memories of this place, of your brothers and your friends,” Mae said softly, her gaze lingering on the pendant before meeting his eyes.

“It already does,” he replied, a warmth blossoming in his chest as he took a moment to appreciate her kindness. “This whole trip has been more than I expected.”

Her expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability peeking through her cheerful demeanor. “I’m glad. It’s nice to know you enjoyed your time here.”

“More than I can say,” he said, feeling the weight of the moment. “You’ve made this place feel like home, even if just for a little while.”

Mae’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down for a brief moment before meeting his gaze again. World spinning, butterflies in his stomach as he looked back at her. His gloved hands stroking the smooth surface of the pendant between his pointer finger and thumb as he looked down at the way her expression showed a hint of longing amidst her resolve. Clearing her throat after a beat between them she said, “You should get going, though. I didn’t mean to hold you up,”

“Right,” he said, reluctantly picking up his bag. “I guess it’s time for me to ship out.” 

As he turned toward the ramp, he felt a twinge of regret. “I’ll keep in touch,” he assured her, glancing back.

“Promise?” she asked, her tone laced with hope.

“Promise,” he confirmed, feeling the weight of that commitment resonate between them.

With one last smile, he turned and began walking away, the pendant resting against his heart—a tangible reminder of their shared moments. As he sat down in the cockpit, he couldn’t help but look back one last time, capturing the image of Mae standing there, the morning light framing her in a golden glow. She’d moved further back under the large tree at the top of the Island’s hill, leaning against its low hanging branch as she lifted her hand into a wave. 

Starting up the engines, Rex felt a renewed sense of purpose. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with the pendant as a reminder of his time on Pabu and the connection they had forged, he felt ready to face whatever awaited him among the stars. And if he found it way back to Pabu in the future, perhaps he could enjoy a few more slower moments in the midst of his chaotic life.

To be continued...

Again shout out to my friend for this amazing image!

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

this person gets it

Day 8 - Wrecker and Chori

What happens when the holiday season brings feelings of self-doubt and anxiety? Chori’s sisters can sometimes be unkind, leaving her feeling uncertain. Will Wrecker step up and bring some light into the situation?

Warning: NSFW content ahead/trigger warning for body positivity/ mild fat-phobia from Chori’s sister

(Link to Ao3 HERE if you prefer that format!)

EVENT MASTERLIST

(Thank you again to my AWESOME friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is the beautiful mind behind ALL the writing, design layout, post editing and song selections!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream

Bij - pronounced "beej" - a Klingon word meaning "punishment" or "suffering"

From the old artworks. ❤ G a r r u s ❤