You point off to a corner to direct one of the trainees on where to store the latest shipment of proton torpedoes. You watch as they carefully walk across the slippery floor, pushing the hovercraft into the armory as if it will explode at the slightest jolt.

You pull your hood over your head tighter and look down at your datapad. You did not miss these awful storms that Kamino is known for. You've been here for a few weeks now, acting as a high-ranking supply specialist, and so far, it's been literal hell.

Apparently, the last one wasn't doing a very good job, so you got "promoted" from the Bad Batch's personal one to acting coordinator on this stupid water planet. You spent your first days cleaning up the mess left behind and reorganizing everything to the proper standards. And then you were given the great task of reassigning everyone's schedules and orders, which hasn't made you the most popular person on base.

No one in the squad was impressed when the order came through for your reassignment. You suspect that someone high in command discovered your secret relationship, thanks to the reckless actions Crosshair insisted on having in a supply closet on Felucia. Though he didn't agree with your theory about your relocation at the time, Crosshair did find it extremely frustrating that you were being pulled because of someone else's incompetence.

On your last night spent together, he promised that you'd only be away for a little while. He held you tight against his chest, comforting you as you lay in his bed. With a smug smirk, he whispered in your ear that when he finally gets his hands on you again that he'll make it up to you in more ways than you can imagine.

And since landing on Kamino, you've thought of plenty.

"Alright, that's the last of it!" You shout over the pouring rain as one of your colleagues pushes out another hovercraft filled with the remaining proton torpedoes. You follow them into the armory, brushing off the excess water from your rain jacket.

Your communicator suddenly buzzes at your side and you pause to pull it out. Your is heart racing and you find yourself holding back a smile. Then it drops. You were expecting a message from Crosshair, telling you how things on Kaller are going. Instead, it's some mass message from command.

NEW ORDERS ARE INCOMING. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

"The hell?" You hear someone mutter, voicing your thoughts.

You look around at the armory, seeing everyone just as lost as you. They begin murmuring to each other, asking if anyone knows what's going on. This message is the last thing you want to deal with, but you have to keep things on course.

"Everyone, just focus on the task at hand." You say, catching their attention. Their wide eyes look at you with a mix of puzzlement and nervousness. "Let's finish sorting this shipment and then I'll go try to figure this out."

Though they seem unsure, they follow your command. You guide them into properly storing the latest shipments, just like always. You then give out specific squadron order requests to the newest recruits, trying to keep everyone busy as you search for answers to what is going on.

You end up with nothing. Just the same message over and over again.

NEW ORDERS ARE INCOMING. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

X X X

It doesn't take long for uneasiness and suspicion to make a permanent impact on Kamino. Rumors are floating around that the war has ended, but nothing official has been stated to the public yet. Thanks to Tech, you learned how to get into the encrypted comm chatter, but none of it makes any sense.

You've spent hours trying to figure out what Order 66 is without drawing any unwanted attention, but have come up completely empty and just as anxious.

You're especially thrown for a loop just a few days later when the Coruscant Guard suddenly arrives on Kamino with no explanation and begins making changes to everything you know.

Things are getting strange, and it's got you and your subordinates on edge.

"Ma'am."

You look up from your datapad, seeing one of your trainees timidly approaching you. "Yes?"

"Do we have any word on what's going on yet?" She quietly asks. Both of your heads twist as the Guard enter the armory. Some begin clearing the place and checking IDs, while other groups start examining your assortment of weapons and supplies.

It'll only be a matter of time before one of them ask you for the manifest. Again.

"Nothing yet." You mutter under your breath, watching them closely. "Just keep your head down. I'll let you know more when I do. For now, make yourself busy. Keep up with your orders."

"Yes, ma'am." She timidly says before wheeling her cargo toward its designated area and away from the Guard.

You take in a deep breath, steadying yourself before deciding to beat them to it and start the conversation. "Can I help you boys with something?" You ask as you approach who you assume is leading this investigation.

"Are you in charge of this outfit?" He asks. His voice is cold and clipped, which you weren't exactly expecting. Though with how tense things have become these past couple of days, you guess it only seems natural that they're feeling it as well.

"I am." You declare, holding yourself up a bit taller. "Is something not to your liking?"

"Just checking things out. Mandatory inspection to ensure this armory and the equipment is up to standard."

That can't be.

You shake your head in confusion as you begin to scroll through your datapad again. "My scheduled inspection isn't until another month from now. Any reason for this impromptu investigation?"

"New orders, ma'am."

You look up while arching your eyebrow. "From who? General Shaak Ti?"

He stiffens, almost like you suggested something completely out of line. "Are you questioning your commanding officer?"

You swallow hard, his harsh and low voice raising the hairs on the back of your neck. "No, sir. I just haven't seen this new order on my end." You reply, maintaining eye contact with him to keep yourself calm and confident.

You wish his helmet wasn't on so you could see what he's thinking. Typically, the clones aren't so uptight and demanding. While the Guard is known for their abrasive and intense procedures, this is fairly intimidating for having a common goal.

"Send me your manifest, finish your latest order, then report back to your barracks. There's a mandatory assembly at 1500." He declares while you stare at your reflection in his visor. "Don't be late."

"Yes, sir." You cautiously say, watching him as he walks away to bother one of your colleagues.

You let out a shaky breath. Muscles you didn't even know were tense suddenly relax and you have this overwhelming urge to get this job finished quickly and efficiently. You do as he instructed and make sure you do everything correctly on your end. You then take a brief glance down the lines of supplies to make sure your crew has done exactly what they're supposed to.

After cleaning up a few common mistakes both from your crew and the early morning shift, it's nearly 1500. You end up walking down the Kaminoan hallways by yourself, feeling more vulnerable than you ever have on this planet. After a bit of searching, you find your fellow supply specialists tucked away in one of the balconies overlooking one of the large assembly areas, watching as squads of troopers begin to file down on the main floor.

"Did I miss anything?" You ask while shoving your way to the front.

"Nothing yet. Just the rumor that Palpatine is going to be making a speech." Emilian, one of the men from your crew, mutters under his breath as you reach him. His thin body leans against the wall, allowing you space to look at what's happening below you. 

"Goodie." You sarcastically reply, resting your hand on the edge of the balcony. You peer down, scanning the troopers to see if there are any squads that you recognize, but they're too far below for you to really tell.

The room suddenly goes dark as a large hologram of some cloaked figure flickers on.

You can't help but watch anxiously as Palpatine explains what has happened in recent days. You listen closely as he shouts about how the Jedi made an attempt on his life, leaving him scarred and deformed.

He makes a call for their execution, causing your stomach to plummet.

Your palms get sweaty as he announces his new Empire, which is rising from the ashes of what was once your Republic.

You swallow hard and tighten your fists at your side, forcing yourself to not shake as your adrenaline kicks in. This new form of government is the last thing you were expecting. You flinch as the crowd of clone troopers suddenly burst into loud cheers, their fists rising and falling in excitement and approval, reminding you of the sea of waves just outside.

You don't know what this means for the future, but it's hard to ignore the fear settling in your chest as you're ordered back to your posts for the remainder of the day.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic?" Emilian's heavy voice rumbles behind you as you file out of the balcony space and toward the armory. "Can't wait to see how this plays out. Now that the war's over, I'm sure we'll all get to go back to our miserable lives."

You don't let yourself join your colleagues in scolding Emilian with hushed voices for his outburst. According to them, he should be grateful to even be still alive in this war.

They think this change is a good thing.

The war is over and peace has been secured. Why are you so worried?

A little voice in your head whispers that Emilian has served in the GAR for 34 years now. He knows, just like you, that this is not the full picture. Whatever this new Empire has planned for you, you doubt that retiring from active duty will be an option.

X X X

You jump, the sound of your barracks door rushing open startling you from your dreamless sleep. Blinking, your foggy brain barely processes a figure stepping through your doorway. The door slides shut as the stranger marches towards you with determined purpose, alerting you to sudden danger. You quickly flip on the light near your bed and you let out a deep sigh as the room softly illuminates.

"Maker, Cross. You scared the shit out of me." You say before his lips hungrily attack yours. A soft noise escapes you from the suddenness of his greeting but you follow his lead. You soak up his familiar taste and touch as his hands grip your bare shoulders, pulling you to him. When he parts, you're left breathless, your heart still pounding from the sudden wake-up call. "I didn't know you were back." You quietly exhale, looking up at his comforting, sorely missed face.

"Just got back." He says, his distinctive hiss causing shivers to run down your spine. His eyes greedily take you in, clearly admiring the minimal clothing you chose for bed. "I saw you at the assembly, but decided to wait until the night shift to come see you."

"A warning would have been nice." You smile as you cup his cheek.

"No fun in that." He quips, making you chuckle. He tips his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. "You miss me?" He quietly breathes as he presses a bit harder against you, and you pick up the very subtle unease in his question.

"Of course." You whisper as your hand moves down his neck to his shoulder. You gently rub at the exposed area between his pieces of armor, still in disbelief that he's actually in your room and back in your arms. Suddenly, now that he's here, the stress and fear from the recent days melt away. "Take off your armor. Come lay with me." You whisper, almost sounding like a beg.

"Eager, are we?" He smirks, giving your arms a squeeze before stepping back from you. You expect him to begin stripping immediately, but he grabs his datapad from his side. "Just have to finish something first. Then I'll be yours all night." He winks, but he doesn't have his on-brand cockiness.

"You couldn't have done that before coming to see me?" You groan as you dramatically fall onto your pillow again. You wait for him to tease you about your theatrics like usual.

But he doesn't.

He instead glances at you with a half smile, his playfulness from before no longer present. You watch him type away, his focus intensifying as the seconds go by.

Something is wrong, that much you can tell.

"I need your help." He suddenly says under his breath, and you can't ignore the seriousness in his words.

"Request form?"

He shakes his head. "Counter-report."

"Counter-report?" You repeat as you sit up. Your eyebrows are furrowed now. You hold out your hand for the datapad, but he doesn't give it to you, instead turning away slightly.

You frown at his denial. Your guard is instantly up again, more than it has been for the past few days. When it comes to Crosshair, you pride yourself on how well you can read his subtle signs and pick up his nonverbal cues. But right now, it's like trying to understand a foreign language. "What do you need to file a counter-report for, Crosshair?"

"The mission on Kaller." He says after he steps back to keep his distance from you. "We didn't complete the mission. But Hunter reported that we did."

"He lied?"

He doesn't respond, instead giving you a growl of sorts as an answer. His eyes don't meet yours.

Okay. This is not typical. Crosshair is always game to complain about Hunter and his choices. While he respects his orders and does as he's asked, he does whine to you occasionally about what he'd do differently.

"What did he lie about?" You prompt, attempting to gain more information about what the hell is going on. Your voice is now a bit more on edge, which unintentionally shows your frustration and confusion with his strange behavior and his unwillingness to answer anything.

His eyes shoot up, giving you a hard gaze. "Doesn't matter." He snaps. And then, as if realizing how harsh he sounds, he blinks and shakes his head before dropping his voice. "If I file a counter-report, will it affect Hunter?" He asks as he rubs at his temple.

"What did he lie about, Cross?" You repeat, standing your ground. The avoidance of your questions is eerie, and can only mean that this wrong situation is worse than you originally thought.

Something happened out there and he's refusing to tell you.

"Just answer the question, Ace." He says before locking his jaw.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest and your hands start to sweat.

You don't like this, not one bit.

You stare each other down for a moment, both refusing to budge. "Depends on the severity." You slowly say, your eyes holding his. You watch for his reaction as you slightly cave to him.

He frowns at the answer before breaking eye contact to look at his datapad. He starts typing again, his gaze becoming hard and determined.

You begin to try and rationalize his odd behavior. If he isn't willing to tell you, maybe it's for the best. Crosshair has never kept a secret from you, and from the way he's acting, it can't be good. It's silly to think he's hiding something from you because of his own selfish desires.

But since that blasted message came through, you've felt like your world has been turned upside down.

And you don't like that Crosshair is included in these emotions of stress and confusion.

You let it go on like this for a few minutes. He actively avoids you while you try to process and comprehend what is going on with him. For the first time in a while, you grow impatient with his silence. "Will you tell me what's going on?" You try again, watching him with a slight bit of concern now.

"No." He shakes his head, scowling now. "It's better if you don't know."

You huff as you roll your eyes in annoyance. If he has no intentions of informing you about anything that's happened since you were relocated, then why did he bring it up and seek out your advice? "Will you at least tell me what you're doing? Are you filing the report or not?"

He ignores you for a bit longer, then lets out a deep sigh and drops his shoulders. You relax slightly at the familiar tell. His hand comes to his temple again and rubs it in harder circles than before. "I'm filing it."

You cringe. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He suddenly tenses again and glares at his datapad as if it bit him. He tightens his grip, his voice tight now. "I don't have a choice, Ace."

You shrug, hoping to come off as neutral on the topic since he won't give you any background on the situation whatsoever. Plus, you'd rather not piss him off more than you apparently already have. "It's just that filing a counter-report isn't something a leader takes kindly, Crosshair. Let alone your brother. Hunter might feel like you're going behind his back, that's all."

"I know, but this mission needs to be taken care of." He argues. After a few more clicks, he finally tosses his datapad aside. He groans and rubs more intensely at his temple. His eyes pinch shut while he takes in a long, deep breath.

He turns his back to you.

Your eyes widen as you become more concerned. He quickly spins back around with his lips in a tight line and his eyes narrow like he's lining up a shot at the enemy. You're debating about saying something because all of this is so out of character for him and a bit frightening now.

He suddenly begins removing his armor without another word or glance at you. He pulls away each piece haphazardly until he's down to only his blacks, his nose scrunching occasionally in frustration.

Throughout the entire process, he's pawing at the side of his head.

"Crosshair, what's wrong?" You softly ask, confusion and frustration present in your tone.

He's acting strange. He's doing strange things.

What the kriff is going on with him?

"It's nothing."

You glare, no longer willing to put up with his bullshit excuses. "I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last night." You snap, which earns you an annoyed scowl from him.

You give the space next to you on the bed a few pats. "Come sit by me and tell me what's happening." You say a bit kinder, yet remain firm in your request now that you have his attention.

He deeply sighs, and you think he's about to fight you, but he listens. He avoids your gaze as he sits on the edge of the bed, which sets off multiple alarms in your head. You sit crisscrossed to fully face him as he leans his elbows onto his knees. His hands cover the sides of his head, but he doesn't say anything.

"I didn't push you about the counter-report." You say as you look him over. You reach your hand out to tenderly rub circles on his back, hoping to coax him out of this weird state. "But I do deserve to be told what's going on with you."

He swallows hard, still looking straight ahead to avoid you. Then, finally, he speaks. "I have such a horrible headache." He confesses under his breath. His voice is rough like he's holding back tears as he pinches his eyes shut. You've never heard him sound like this, so either the pain is a lot worse than he's been letting on or he genuinely feels bad about how he's been treating you so far. "And I don't feel like myself."

"You try taking a painkiller?" You ask while gently taking his head in your hands. He relaxes almost instantly, his head going limp. He doesn't even fight when your fingers begin massaging his scalp. You watch as his scowl drips away, morphing into something much more vulnerable.

"I don't think they're kicking in." He says and suddenly he sounds so exhausted, like he hasn't slept in days. "I've had one about every six hours since it started, and they've done nothing for the pain."

You hum, unsure what to say. Medical care isn't exactly your area of expertise. You can handle a common cold or injury, but anything more and you're headed straight to medbay for help.

"Is it your eyes? Or stress?" You ask, but he shakes his head in response. You lean forward and he turns to fully face you now. You look into his soft gaze, an unguarded look he reserves only for you. "You didn't hit your head, did you?" You softly tease with a smile, hoping to lighten the tension between you.

"I did." He quietly says and you feel a bit guilty. "I got knocked down during a fight." He says and you frown. "Nothing serious, but it must have hit me just right to cause this headache." He quickly adds as if to ease your concern.

"I'm sorry."

He waves you off, not taking offense to your earlier comment.

As he lets his guard further down, you take your chance and plant an excessive, wet kiss on the side of his head, making sure to be obnoxious as he tries to squirm away. "Feel better?" You chuckle as he wipes it away with disgust.

He scowls while looking at his hand. "I'd feel better if you gave me an actual kiss."

He's still attempting to remove your sloppy kiss from his head by rubbing intensely at the spot when you surprise him with a nice, soft kiss on his lips. "How was that?" You quietly grin, taking this opportunity to look into his eyes again.

"Much better." He half smiles, his shoulders relaxing. You watch his eyes scan your face up and down as if remembering what you look like again.

"While I can't do anything for your pain here," You start as you tap his head. "I can try to fix whatever is happening here." You smile as you tap his chest. "Let's do something about the stress that is no doubt making you feel unlike you, huh? It's been a long time since we last saw each other and these past few days have been crazy."

He smirks and suddenly becomes the man you were forced to leave weeks ago. He tips his head to greedily kiss you. His hands grab your waist, eagerly pulling you to him. "How do you feel about me keeping my promise?" He breathes against your skin in the crook of your neck. You laugh and wrap your arms around his chest, finding yourself relaxing in his grasp. He playfully scolds you in response, growling out your name with a smile.

The stress from the past few days washes away from both of you as he pins you down in your bed, his familiar hands holding you tight. His comforting voice whispers sweet nothings into your ear while he shows you just how much he missed you.

~~~~~~~~~~