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When Fives struggles back to wakefulness, he's initially unsure what prompted it.
Tup's still asleep on top of him, hair let down and splaying over Fives's face. Echo's tucked into his side, eyes still shut in sleep - and Fives treasures that; it's not often Echo gets uninterrupted sleep these days - and Dogma's on Echo's other side, as still and silent as he always is. It was unnerving, at first - especially just after losing Echo, when Fives would wake up and have moments of irrational fear that Dogma somehow died in his sleep - but now he's grown to treasure it just as much as he treasures Echo's holonovel-esque sleep mumbling.
Or, well. Echo's former holonovel-esque sleep muttering. These days, he just seems to get nightmares.
"Fives," someone whispers, and Fives leans over, locking eyes with Anakin. The commander seems to have been up late, if the general disarray of his hair and clothes is any indication, and Fives blinks at him, silently asking what emergency needs his attention.
"Time 's it?" Fives mumbles, and Anakin gives him a lop-sided shrug. So it's not early enough for anyone to reasonably be awake - as Fives suspected. "Wha's goin' on?"
"Honestly, I thought you'd be asleep longer," Anakin admits, which treats Fives to the supremely mortifying image of Anakin just watching him drool all over Tup's hair. Force, he'd die if that happened. "We got a contact from one of my wife's friends - a senator on Alderaan. He wants to know if we can help carry out an operation."
That's been another crazy part of this, Fives thinks. Anakin's elusive wife and kids were always figments of stories during the war, but now that... well, now he's had the chance to meet them all. Padme's an incredible woman - a senator from Naboo, on the run from the Empire, which works great with Fives and his brothers' fugitive status - and Fives isn't hesitant to admit that if she were to yell at him, he'd probably cry. She's that kind of person.
Anakin's twins - Luke and Leia - are an absolute delight, and bring a sense of brightness and joy to the ship that Fives found sorely lacking. Without them around, it feels a bit too much like a graveyard, which Fives himself isn't helping with, but he thinks he can be excused a bit of emotion these days. It's not as if he's a Jedi anymore - none of them know quite what they are, but it's definitely not that - so there's no code he's got to adhere to. He can simply be.
Well, he can't exactly be given that he's one of the most wanted people in the entire galaxy by virtue of his older brother having gone off the fucking rails, but he can get pretty close.
"Doesn't Rex-" and he cuts himself off, the reminder twisting the already-present blade in his heart once more, "Darth Angusita travel to Alderaan regularly? It seems like we should be trying to avoid him, considering, y'know..."
"That's why I wanted to talk to you about it," Anakin explains, splaying his hands wide in the universal symbol of "what-can-you-do". "Bail - that's Padme's friend - said that they could pair us up with Special Ops, who need help extracting one of their own from deep undercover."
"Whose Special Ops?" Fives asks, reaching up to push a bit of Tup's hair away from his mouth. "Jedi, Republic, or Separatist?"
"Jedi," Anakin confirms, and Fives perks up a bit at that. "Bail got the request from a guy named Hunter - I don't suppose you've met him?"
"Echo has," Fives states, casting a gaze at his sleeping brother. "I'd wake him up, but you know how rare it is that he sleeps..."
Anakin nods, lips curling into a soft smile. "I have two kids under three," he quips, gaze softening as Echo shifts a bit closer to Fives in his sleep. "I know just how rare it is to get good sleep."
Fives nods, reaching up to wrap one arm around Echo's shoulders. "Special Ops picked him up off Skako Minor," he states, fingers brushing over Echo's shoulder. "They're the ones who did all the heavy-duty stuff - don't like working with the rest of us much. Still, they saved my brother's life, so I owe them one. If they need help saving one of theirs, repaying the favor is the least I can do."
Anakin nods once more, gaze softening as he watches Tup curl back into Fives's chest. "If it was Obi-Wan," he murmurs, gaze going dull and distant, "I'd probably do the same thing."
Despite all the reports Fives has seen, the ones about Anakin's older brother hit particularly hard. They were adopted together, and Obi-Wan served under Cody - Fives's grandmaster - before everything went to hell. As far as Fives knows now, he's working as Rex's right hand man.
God, that makes his chest ache. The thought of Rex dressed in Sith robes, eyes shining gold and the blood of thousands of their vode on his hands - Fives is glad beyond measure that he never had the misfortune to run into him. That doesn't change the fact that he'd give anything to be able to have stood in Dogma's place, though.
"Get some more rest," Anakin murmurs, clicking off his datapad and rising to his feet. He moves like a loth-cat, all measured movements and hidden danger, and Fives finds himself once again glad that he's on their side. "We can talk more in the morning."
Before Fives can reach out to grasp his sleeve, Anakin drifts out the door, officially ending all conversation. He sighs, wiggling back into the blankets in an attempt to get comfortable - a move that must've been more vigorous than he realized, since Tup's grip on his torso tightens.
"Go to bed, ori'vod," he slurs, voice low and rough from sleep. It's so rare for Tup to be around - so rare for him to be asking for anything, much less the simple pleasure of Fives's company - that despite how much he wants to get up and work, he gives in.
His sleep, for once, is dreamless.
There are some pros to being a space pirate, Tup decides.
Well, space pirate might be overselling it. He technically ferries illegal cargo from point a to point b, but he doesn't commandeer other ships guns-blazing or anything. He's not like the characters from the holonovels he used to find in Fives's dresser - he's just doing his job.
Force, the thought of Fives aches.
He tugs his helmet back over his head, hiding his 'saber under the fabric of his jacket before sauntering into the city. As far as anyone knows, he's a cargo runner here to pick up a new load, and that's just the way he likes it.
Being a Jedi became a lot more dangerous in the last few rotations, too. He knows very little of what went on - courtesy of generally being off the grid - but given that all communications with Fives and Dogma abruptly cut out, he doesn't think it's good.
He tugs off his helmet and knocks a few times before pushing open the door to Cid's, gaze flitting over the bar before finally catching sight of her. He's not entirely sure why she looks like a tooka just shat on her shoes upon seeing him - ouch, honestly, he knew he wasn't exactly popular but ouch - but based on the way she darts forwards to snag his sleeve, there's nothing good.
"Why are you here?" she hisses, dragging him into the back room with an unholy amount of strength. She's gripping his arm with more force than she usually would, and he hisses a bit - a move that doesn't dissuade her in the slightest. "Stupid, stupid Jedi! You need to leave!"
"I can't leave if you're dragging me," he points out, and Cid smacks his helmet.
"Stupid! You're wanted! There's a bounty on your head so big that bounty hunters from the Outer Rim are getting in on it! Stupid Jedi!"
"A bounty?" Tup asks, confronted with the strong feeling that he's out of the loop somehow. "From who?"
"From your mother," Cid drawls, them smacks him again. "From the Emperor! Who else would want your sorry ass?"
"The Emperor?" Tup echoes, thoroughly bewildered. "Wh- the who?"
"Cargo runners," Cid sighs, fixing him with a glare that speaks to exactly what she thinks about his mental capacity. "The Emperor? The man who's running the entire galaxy by now? How out of the loop are you?"
Tup gapes at her, entirely unsure of what to say. "Very?" he finally tries, and Cid sighs, sounding as long-suffering as Rex did whenever Fives and Echo got into some mischief.
Force, he misses his grandmaster. He hasn't heard anything from Rex in ages, and despite how skilled he knows he is, he's begun to worry. He ought to comm him again once he's done here.
"The war's over," Cid states, as if that's her shopping list and not an entirely world-rocking piece of information. "The Jedi were declared traitors and executed. The Emperor's now in control, and his right hand man's going out to hunt down all the other Jedi - and word has it he's looking for you."
"What," Tup simply replies, because honestly, what else can he say at this point? Is there a rational way to react to that? Is he that out of the loop? Force.
"That's why you need to get out of here," Cid hisses, pushing Tup towards the door with all her considerable strength. "Go find your other Jedi or something! God knows they wouldn't be able to kill all of you!"
"Are they alive?" Tup nearly begs, spinning around to catch Cid's hands. She stares at him for a moment, apparently confused, and Tup grips her hands tighter, desperation threatening to overwhelm him. "You- you know everything, Cid! Do you know if they're alive?"
"Calm down," Cid snaps, prying Tup's hands off her with no small show of force. "I don't know anything for sure, but I heard that they're still kicking. That's for free, 'cause you've been doing so much good work for me. Now scram!"
"Thank you, Cid," Tup grins, sliding his helmet back on and heading for the door. Cid makes a small noise of irritation in response, but Tup knows her well enough to know that there's no bite to it.
Force, he's going to miss her.
Echo is ninety percent certain that this is shaping up to be the single weirdest day of his entire life.
First he wakes up and finds out that he's being rescued by Special Ops, then he finds out that he was presumed dead - which really, ouch, he knows his connection to the Force is tenuous at best but come on - and then finds out that he was not, in fact, being held by Separatists, and was instead being experimented on by the newly-founded Empire to determine a way to create synthetic midichlorians.
Well. This certainly ends up in the top ten, at least.
"Can you move faster?" Crosshair, a sharpshooter with a rifle slung over his shoulder, snaps. Echo does his best to oblige, but it's a bit difficult when he hasn't had the chance to properly walk in months and his legs are now made entirely of metal.
Right. The prosthetics. That didn't make today's news, mostly because he's had them for a while already. That's a thing, though.
Echo yelps as Wrecker tosses him over one shoulder, the sharp movement sending stabs of pain through his chest and back. He suddenly feels intense sympathy for bags of tubers.
"Sorry," Wrecker grits out, and Echo wraps his arm around Wrecker's neck, holding on for dear life as he picks up the pace even further. He can hardly believe that the only Jedi here is Hunter; the other three move with such surety and precision that he could've sworn they were Force-sensitive as well.
"Never taking one of these jobs again," Crosshair hisses, picking off a pair of droids at the other end of the hall without missing a beat. "I don't care how good the pay is."
"Actually," Tech pipes up, turning his gaze towards his silver-haired teammate, "we're not getting paid for this."
"Then why are we here?" Crosshair hisses, and Echo raises his scomp link in a casual kind of greeting. "Shut up, di'kut, I know you're there."
"Cut the chatter," Hunter states, turning to point down an adjoining hall. "We're almost out."
Crosshair and Hunter stop at the corner, and Echo cranes his neck to watch them as Wrecker rushes away. "What are they doing?" he asks, and Tech, loping along beside him, simply quirks a brow.
"Hunter and Crosshair are our best shots," he simply replies. "They're covering our retreat until we can secure the package."
The package, or Echo, would quite appreciate them not talking about him like he's not there.
Wrecker bounds up the boarding ramp in a couple quick strides and lowers Echo to the ground with a stunning amount of tenderness. "We'll be right back," he grins, and Echo squares his jaw, gaze flitting to the pistol on Tech's hip.
"I can fight," he snaps, and Tech and Wrecker eye him with twin looks of doubt. "I'm a Jedi," he continues, "but I was Rex's padawan. I know how to handle a blaster."
Tech and Wrecker exchange a look at that, and Echo sighs, reaching out for one of the discarded blasters sitting on a box of cargo. It's depressingly difficult to pull it into his hands, but once he has it, he meets Tech's gaze and squares his jaw. "I'm going to fight," he states, and Tech's lips quirk into a small smile.
An explosion shakes the building, and Echo props himself up on a box, training his blaster at the doorway as Tech and Wrecker rush in. There's a while where nothing happens, but in a matter of minutes, the entire Special Ops team comes pouring out of the building, Hunter and Crosshair returning fire as Tech rushes into the cockpit.
Echo picks off droids where he can, letting the Force guide him to headshot after headshot. Wrecker rushes in a few moments after, and even as Echo keeps shooting, he can hear Hunter and Crosshair having some kind of argument-slash-conversation that he hopes can wait until after they're not being shot at.
The ship lurches into the air, and Hunter leaps into the bay, spinning back around to reach a hand out to Crosshair. "Jump!" he shouts, and Crosshair aims his rifle at them instead, firing a couple of off-center bolts that do nothing but hit the durasteel behind them. He drops his rifle after that, approaching the droids empty-handed, and Echo doesn't need the Force to feel Hunter's panic.
Wrecker grasps Hunter's arms before he can jump after him, and Hunter spits curses, thrashing in an attempt to break out of Wrecker's arms. "Let me go!" he shouts, and Wrecker maintains his grip - even as a smattering of trinkets and smaller object fling themselves at him with speeds high enough to hurt. Echo sits there, momentarily stunned, but when the door finally closes, he finds himself again.
"He has a plan," Tech calls from the cockpit, tilting his head back to peer at them. "Crosshair informed me last rotation that he planned to extract sensitive data from the Empire, and I have no doubt that this was the first step. He will be alright, Hunter."
Hunter sags in Wrecker's grasp at that, and Wrecker puts him down, awkwardly patting his head a few times before retreating to the back of the ship. Hunter, for his part, leans back against the wall, slowly sliding down it until his legs splay out over the body of the ship. There's an unnerving distance to his expression, and Echo frowns, sliding over to sit near him.
"He'll be alright," he assures him, reaching out with the fledgeling remains of his Force presence to brush against Hunter's. There's a myriad of emotions there - grief, fear, mourning, anger - and Echo turns his attention to him properly, lips curling into a faint smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hunter snorts a bit, tugging his knees to his chest. "You're not gonna say I should meditate?" he asks, tilting his head so his hair falls over his eyes. "I would've thought anyone from Cody's lineage would be big on the whole meditation thing."
"Meditation only does so much," Echo shrugs, and Hunter stares at him with a kind of new respect. "Besides, a lot of times what people really need is someone to talk to. It's a lot harder to clear your own mind and ignore your emotions than it is to feel them out with someone else."
Hunter stares at him for a moment before his lips quirk into a grin, and he reaches up to fiddle with his headband. "You're pretty interesting," he hums, "for a Temple kid, I mean. You sure you're from Cody's lineage?"
"Responsibility skipped a generation," Echo snorts, memories of mission after mission gone wrong washing over him like a wave. "Rex was one crazy or'dinii, and Fives took after him. I wouldn't have survived a day if I just kept to the rules."
"Or'dinii?" Hunter echoes, accent beyond atrocious. Echo huffs a bit at that, lips curling into a smile in kind.
"I forgot you wouldn't know that kind of slang. Rex picked it up from Cody, who got it from Fox. I don't know where Fox got it from, but whatever. Or'dinii basically means 'moron', but I've mostly heard it used to mean someone who makes the world's worst decisions and yet somehow manages to not die."
"Yeah," Hunter states, seemingly contemplating that for a moment before nodding. "I only met Rex once, but that sounds about right."
"Only met?" Echo queries, the quirk of language not escaping him. Hunter stares at him for a moment before sighing, hands coming down to splay over his armor-covered thighs. He looks like he's considering something, and as much as Echo can appreciate a good thought process, he doesn't have time for it. "Hunter. What do you mean, met?"
"A lot has happened since you were captured," Hunter grits out, sounding as though every word physically pains him. "Especially with Rex. I don't... I don't think you want to know right now, though-"
"I have to know," Echo retorts, mind filled with thoughts of his ori'vod. Rex dead, Rex captured, Rex lost and bleeding somewhere, Rex mourning him, Rex left alone- he has to know. "Please, Hunter."
It's the "please" that does it. Hunter exhales before he turns his gaze back to Echo, and this time, there's a new strength to it. "Your master Fell."
For a moment, the words don't compute. Even when they do, Echo finds himself just staring at Hunter, heart pounding in his ears as he tries to make sense of the words. It can't be true. Rex- Rex has always been the best of them. As Echo's master, he was kind, caring, firm, strong- he had friends, he had so many people to turn to- he believed in the Code, it just-
"How?" he chokes out, knowing in some deep, deep part of himself that Hunter wouldn't lie about this. Maybe some part of him always knew - knew when Rex wasn't there to pull him out of his cell, knew when Rex wasn't there to fight beside him and promise it'd be okay. "Did- was it-"
"They say," and Hunter swallows, apparently choking on his words, "he fell out of grief."
Echo's smart enough to know what that means.
He doubles over, a low moan escaping his lips as he clutches his chest with his one organic hand. Force, it's all his fault. He should've been more careful, he shouldn't have gone for the shuttle, he should've- Force, he should've been more careful, and now Rex is gone, and Fives is probably gone too, and Dogma, Force, Dogma-
"Breathe," Hunter murmurs, reaching out to clasp Echo's hand in his. It's the wrong move, and Echo flinches away, striking out wildly with his scomp link as his mind tangles in on itself.
"Rex gone, Fives gone, Dogma gone, Tup gone, everything gone, all gone, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I let them use me, I let them capture me, it's all my fault-"
A presence brushes up against his mind - feather-light and fleeting, but still familiar - and Echo chokes on a sob as the comfort resolves into familiarity.
It's Tup. Tup's still here.
Maybe not everything's gone after all.
Despite how awful everything else in the galaxy has become, Dogma is glad that this, at least, stayed the same.
Fives's presence is burning-hot next to him, waves of confidence-anger-belief-encouragement pulsing through their bond as they move in tandem. They've learned to work together, trial-by-fire style, and Dogma can't imagine any other place he'd rather be.
Fives presses forwards, and Dogma covers his blind spot, deep blue blade reflecting bolt after bolt back at the stormtroopers who fired them. Anakin assured them that these are volunteers - people who signed up to enforce the Empire's draconian laws - but Dogma still feels a pang of guilt every time a trooper goes down. It's hard to ignore the urge to save, even after all this time in battle.
Honestly, they weren't even meant to be fighting here. All they came to do was pick up some new parts, not end up in a firefight.
"Take the parts back to the ship!" Fives shouts, and Dogma sighs a bit at Fives's protectiveness. He knows it comes with good intentions - can feel the worry-fear-love-concern through their bond - but he's only a padawan in name by now. He's able to match Fives in a sparring match - he doesn't need to be sent to fetch things when he can just as easily fight alongside him.
This isn't about his ego, though, so he picks up the parts and runs.
That's one of the few things he kept from Echo - one of the few lessons from his first master he keeps imprinted in his mind. When someone tells you to do something, it's not as much a reflection on you as it is on them, and if you're in a warzone, you can argue about it later.
Force, he misses Echo. Fives was an incredible master, to be sure, but it's just not the same.
A blaster bolt stops him short, and he spins, parts clutched close to his chest as his hand falls to his blaster. It's deserted, which, in retrospect, should've been his first tip-off that danger was coming, but in the moment, all he can think is "huh, bounty hunters are getting better".
"Dogma."
A lightsaber blazes to life, and Dogma simply stares as a cloaked figure emerges from the dust, illuminated by nothing more than the glowing blade. It's crimson, the exact same shade as the blood Dogma's seen on battlefield after battlefield, and he takes a step back on instinct, heart pounding in his ears.
The sun's supposed to be out, but the dust is so thick on this planet that all it does is cover the planet in a faint haze. Dogma can barely see his own hands like this, but the red blade is all too visible.
The figure tugs down their hood, letting the dark fabric pool around their neck, and Dogma forgets how to breathe.
That's Rex standing there, Rex with his blond hair cropped short and wielding the same 'saber he taught Fives and Echo with. That's Rex standing there, Rex with sickly-gold eyes and a blood-red 'saber and it's so right but so wrong that Dogma freezes.
"It is you," Rex states, and Dogma fumbles for his lightsaber. He manages to ignite it, holding it in front of him in a Soresu defense, and Rex sighs, the sound out of place in the voice of someone normally so loving.
"You're not listening," he hisses, shoulders tightening as he takes another step forwards. "All I ever wanted was to protect you- to make you all happy with me. All of this is for you- so why are you running away?"
"Ori'vod," Dogma breathes, some horrible lump sticking in his throat as he angles his blade. "I- what happened to you? How- all of this- was all of that you? The Temple, Cody, Fox- was that all you?"
"They were in the way," Rex spits, taking another step forwards. "They would've sent you to your deaths," another step, and Rex's pitch-black boots crunch against a few loose stones, "for the greater good. They would've let you die for their own ends. I'm trying to protect you, Do'ika."
The diminutive sounds wrong in Rex's mouth, and Dogma drops into a crouch, angling his blade in a Makashi offensive. "I won't go anywhere with you," he states, grip tightening around the hilt of his 'saber, "because you're not my ori'vod."
Rex growls, and Dogma barely manages to leap out of the way as he hurls himself forwards. They trade blows for a moment, Dogma losing more ground with each step, before he swings his leg around to try and catch Rex's where he stands.
Rex jumps over it, scoring a long gash on Dogma's arm as he presses forwards. Dogma hisses, switching his blade to his non-dominant hand - that right arm's fucked for the rest of the battle - and pressing forwards, red meeting blue with a resounding crackle.
He manages to get a burn on Rex's shoulder at the cost of his left hand, which Rex grasps with one gloved hand. Dogma shrieks as Rex slams his fist into his arm, stumbling back and barely managing to catch his blade with his right hand.
Alright. Guess that arm's not as out of the fight as he'd hoped.
He trades blows with Rex for a moment longer before catching sight of an opening at his side. It's slight, but it's there, and Dogma knows he can't hesitate if he wants to take advantage of it.
He dives for it, driving his blade into Rex's side just as Rex's 'saber scores a mark on his face.
Force, it hurts, and Dogma stumbles back, hand coming up to brush his face as Rex howls. He can't see out of his left eye, and the adrenaline is rapidly wearing off, so if he wants to run, it has to be now.
He scoops up the parts and rushes back to the ship, arms burning with each movement. By the time he gets there, Fives seems to have been pacing for a while already, and he only knows his master noticed his arrival by the way he shouts, rushing forwards to meet him.
"Dogma," Fives gasps, and Dogma shoves the parts into his arms with shaking hands, legs giving out as soon as they've been delivered. "Force, Dogma, you- what happened to you?"
"Rex," Dogma hisses, and Fives stares at him, eyes widening and grip loosening on the parts in his hands.
"Rex- what?"
"Sith," Dogma gasps, the pain returning in force as the adrenaline wears off. "He's- Sith-"
Fives scoops him off the ground and rushes him inside the ship, sealing up the door and lowering him on the medbay cot. "You'll be alright, Do'ika," Fives breathes, clasping Dogma's right hand with one of his while the other roots wildly for bacta. "You're alright, yeah? I'm here. He can't get you while I'm here."
"He can," Dogma breathes, eyes pricking with unshed tears. That's enough in itself to stop Fives's rooting, and he freezes mid-movement, turning back to stare at Dogma with wide eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"He won't stop until he finds us," Dogma whispers, mortifyingly aware of the single hot tear curving down his cheek. "He won't stop, ori'vod. He's going to hunt us down. He's going to find us, and there's nothing we can do about it."
Fives listens to that for a moment before squaring his jaw, one hand coming up to brush over Dogma's buzzed hair. "Well," he states, and Dogma's not sure if he's imagining the hint of pain in his voice or not, but he listens anyways, "he can try, but if we're together, he doesn't stand a chance."
Dogma knows that's not true - knows Fives is lying as surely as he knows that his arm is absolutely fucked - but the sentiment helps lull him to sleep regardless.
"So," Echo states, leaning forwards to rest his elbow on his knee, "what's our plan?"
Honestly, Fives would quite like to know that as well. He's the one who's supposed to have the plan, but his plan is a decidedly nebulous "kick-his-ass-and-ask-questions-maybe" which is definitely not what his ta'vod would like to hear. There's still that bit of giddiness at the fact that Echo's here - here, able to hear his plans and pitch in and just be - but he knows Echo's absolutely going to end his life if he comes in here with a plan that half-baked.
It's a big thing, too. Tup came back in from a supply run to be here, and Dogma's paused his operation planning to listen to his idea. Even Echo skirted his usual meditation and physical therapy to come today.
Fives really ought to have a plan by now, and yet here he is.
"Well," he starts, splaying his hands wide as if to disguise the fact that he has no idea what he's saying, "we can either hide or we can fight."
"He has no plan," Tup pipes up, and Fives curses as Dogma and Echo nod in agreement. Curse his former padawan and his general ability to understand Fives's social cues.
"What I want to do," he starts, lips pursing into a thin line as he runs over possibilities in his head, "is reach out to Rex. I don't believe he's- I think there's hope for him. I think he can come back to the light."
"I don't know," Dogma murmurs, running his fingers over the scar tissue painting his face. It's a nasty thing, a stark white that matches the unnatural paleness of his bad eye, and it makes Fives shiver every time he remembers how he got it. Scratch that - it makes Fives shiver in general to remember Dogma collapsed in his arms, burns coating his face and arms as he babbled incoherently about Rex and their impending doom.
Of course, now he knows all that stuff about Rex being a Sith was more coherent than Fives initially thought. Ah, the misery of retrospect.
"He's not Rex," Echo pitches in, sliding over to bump his shoulder against Dogma's. "Darth Angusita isn't Rex."
Fives mentally kicks himself, cursing his slip-up for the umpteenth time. It's nigh-impossible to avoid calling his former master by his name, even if the new rule was put in place so Fives would stop talking about him with, as Tup glibly called it, "a kicked-tooka look". Based on the way Tup's eyeing him - read: with that stupidly annoying combination of smugness and concern that makes Fives want to commit arson upon something - he undoubtedly remembers that conversation.
Of course he does. No padawan can resist collecting blackmail on their master, and Tup's no exception. Fives would know.
There goes the twinge in his heart again. Force, he needs to get a grip.
"We should still reach out to him, though," Tup continues, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He's let it down today, wavy strands brushing his jaw and neck every time he moves - which, given that it's Tup, is always. "I think that we shouldn't give up on him. Fight if we need to, but extend a hand all the same."
Echo sighs, shifting his gaze over to Dogma. "Do'ika?" he murmurs, voice so low as to be almost imperceptible. "What do you think?"
That's been something else Fives has been growing accustomed to - the way those two have bonded in the wake of Echo's return. With Echo's prosthetics and Dogma's missing eye, they've been relearning themselves in tandem, and Fives knows it's good for both of them. With Echo around, Dogma's finally starting to relax, and Dogma's dry wit has caught Echo off-guard more than once. They really are an amazing duo.
"You're thinking," Tup quips, leaning over to jab Fives with his foot. His own former padawan has a teasing smirk on his lips, and Fives leans up to ruffle his hair in revenge, delighting in the offended squawks Tup gives him in return. "Hey!"
"Are you gonna say the thing about how you can smell smoke again?" Fives presses, jabbing his finger into Tup's ribs even as his former padawan tries to wriggle away. "Were you gonna say that, huh? Were you?"
"Fives," Echo cuts in, and Fives drops his hands, refocusing his gaze on his twin. Echo sighs, reaching up to run his organic hand through his hair - it's only just begun to grow back, and despite it being a snowy-white, Fives finds no small amount of delight in playing with it - before exhaling harshly. "We need to be prepared for the possibility that Rex isn't coming back."
"How can you say that?" Fives demands, ignoring Tup's warning hand on his shoulder. "How can you," and he emphasizes the "you", "say that he's just- just- how can you ask us to abandon him? We can't just- you can't-"
"You've done it before," Echo states, though there's a hint of pain to the words. "You can do it again."
Fives's heartbeat pounds in his ears. He shakes off Tup's hand and rises to his feet, crossing the small circle to stand in front of Echo. "You can't ask me to do that again," he hisses, gaze flitting over Echo's face before landing on his eyes. "I thought- I thought you of all people would understand why I can't just leave him!"
"It's because I did that I know you have to leave him," Echo replies, voice tight with pain. "Rex - our Rex - would want you to save yourself! He would want you to take care of yourself and not put yourself in danger for him! That's what he wanted! That's what I wanted!"
"He's our Rex-"
"No, he's not!"
Echo grasps Fives's wrist, expression twisting with fresh guilt. "That's not our ori'vod," he all but begs, eyes flickering with untold amounts of pain and grief. "Our Rex didn't kill thousands upon thousands of Jedi to punish them. Our Rex wouldn't kill all these people to try and protect us. Our Rex wouldn't hurt Dogma. Our Rex wouldn't put bounties on our heads to try and track us down."
Fives tugs his hand out of Echo's grasp, and they stand there for a moment, silent.
"I don't care," he finally rasps, through sounding as though it's been rubbed with sandpaper. "If there's any chance that Rex is in there, I have to take it."
Echo stares at him, expression twisted in pain, but says nothing more.
As much as Tup likes to lean into the whole cool-space-pirate-smuggler-whatnot thing he's got going on, he's still the same person he was before the war. He's still the same person who stood there, shoulders trembling, as Fives cut his padawan braid with shaking hands and pulled him into a near-bruising keldabe kiss, a soft promise slipping through his lips that they'd meet again someday. He's still the same person who met Fives and Echo with Dogma at his side, still the same person who looked up at Rex and saw a hero.
That's the bitch of it, really. Despite how hard he tries, he still sees Rex as a hero.
Part of that is why Fives keeps coming to him. His former master has taken to sitting next to his bunk some days, datapad on his lap and gaze skimming over documents without really reading them. There's always a silent question - "what do we do about Rex?" - that Tup is in no way qualified to answer, so he keeps silent.
He's gotten better at flying, though. Fox's lineage was always known for being awful at it, so Tup's sure it's no exaggeration to call himself the best. Force knows he's better than Fives and Dogma - between the two of them, Tup's absolutely astounded they haven't flown into a star yet.
He digresses. He's been going out to smuggle more, keeping his hair tied up with a scrap of fabric from the hem of Dogma's cloak and a jacket Fives stole from somewhere hanging off his shoulders. It makes him feel good - makes him feel like he has a purpose.
Sometimes, one of his brothers will come with him.
More often than not, it's Echo.
That wasn't something he expected. Echo's always hanging in either Fives or Dogma's orbit, always rebounding off them and reframing their ideas, so the first time he walks into the Jaig and sees Echo sitting in the copilot's seat, he's caught off-guard.
"I needed to be useful," Echo simply states, and Tup stares at him for a moment before shrugging and dropping into the seat besides him. He carries both his 'saber and a blaster these days, and unlike Fives, Echo nods in silent approval.
Fives's expression had done a Thing, Tup remembers, when he told him that he'd taken to using a blaster. There was definitely grief there - grief, heartbreak, some kind of longing - but besides that, he's not really sure. Perhaps Fives feels personally wronged by Tup choosing a blaster over the lightsaber he spent so many years with. Force knows that's definitely possible.
They go to scavenge on a moon that, as far as Tup knows, has no name. It's a simple job - pick up some parts from the wreckage of a ship, transport them to the buyer, and reap the rewards - and Tup's glad that for once it goes off without a hitch. He and Echo head out with their faces and heads covered by scarves and come back the same, the only change being their significant new-found quantity of machinery.
It's an easy job for once. Tup pilots them out of atmo while Echo sits in the co-pilot's seat, and when they make it to open space, Echo leans over, rests his elbows on his knees, and asks if Tup will teach him how to fly.
It's messy. It's messy, it's janky, and Tup doesn't actually know how to explain the way his brain works in any comprehensible language. Echo's patient, though - sits in the co-pilot's seat and watches Tup's movements with a focused stare. The first time he takes the controls, they nearly crash, but Tup reminds himself that there's nowhere to go from there but up.
It's nice. Echo's nice to have around. He's a bit like what someone would get if they mixed Fives and Dogma, Tup thinks - though he's not sure if he was always like that, or if that's been a newer occurrence. Either way, he teaches Echo to fly - steadies his hands with his own and guides him through the stars - and in return, Echo sneaks in little lessons of his own.
Oh, he's not blatant about it. He's not as blunt and self-aggrandizing as Fives, doesn't put forth a theory and treat it like fact. He's much more subtle with his lessons, coaxing Tup towards a realization or a skill and letting him figure it out on his own. He teaches Tup how to meditate the traditional way - a way that's never worked for anyone else in their lineage - and helps him release his emotions into the Force on bad days, tangling up their mental presences with feather-light touches until Tup lets all the fear and anger drain out. At some point, he figures out how to do it on his own, and when Echo grins at him, he realizes that was the plan all along.
Echo's sneaky, Tup learns, but it warms his chest regardless.
The day Echo becomes Rex's padawan, it's raining.
It doesn't rain often on Coruscant, and Rex and Fives spent the morning meditating in one of the outdoor gardens, losing themselves in familiar, repetitive emotions. Afterwards, Rex sends Fives to shower - he looks like a wet tooka, hair plastered to his cheeks and robes sticking to his arms - and though Fives bristles, he does as he's told.
At least, that's what Fives tells him after the fact. It explains why he looks like he just lost a fight with a 'fresher when Echo comes into their room, at least.
Echo spends the better part of an hour waiting in the council chambers, hands clasped behind his back and chin raised high. The councilors interrogate him - Fox on his attachment, Cody on his skill, Bly on his history, Bacara on the gaps in training that need to be filled, and the others on everything besides. Echo spends the time answering their questions as best he can, ignoring the gaping pit in his mind and chest that Master O'Niner once occupied, and after a while, he's sent outside while the councilors deliberate.
The thing is this: Echo's good. At least, if Cody is to believed, Echo's good. They don't want to lose him - he's garnered that from the flickers of emotion he's felt in passing. As such, they're definitely debating who to ask to pick up his training.
At least he's not going to be sent away. It's a dull worry in the back of his mind, just as it's been since he was in the creche and being scolded for unhealthy attachment. There's always eyes on him - one of the twins, someone still in contact with his brother, someone who could be a loose cannon or a liability - and his only solace is that here and now, there's nobody to watch.
After a period of deliberation, the council calls him back in, and Echo immediately notices just how upset Fox looks. He's glaring at the floor like it's personally offended him, expression dark and shoulders set in a way that speaks of utter and complete dissatisfaction.
"Echo," Cody greets, and his soft tone eases a bit of the tension out of Echo's shoulders. He doesn't know Cody himself, but given that Fives is Cody's grandpadawan, Cody's a bit nicer to him than most would be. It's nice, if entirely unearned on his part. "We deliberated," and Fox huffs a bit at that, meaning that Cody probably unilaterally decided what would be happening and pressured the others into it, "and we have three options for you."
Echo nods, and Cody's expression flickers a bit before settling into a gentle smile. "The first option is to join one of the Jedi Corps," he starts, though Echo's already shaking his head before he can even finish speaking. "I thought you wouldn't want that. Your second option is to seek out a master to continue your training yourself. If you went down this route, you would have three months to find a willing master or knight to continue your training before you would be sent to the Jedi Corps."
"And the third option, Master?" Echo murmurs, a potent combination of hope and fear settling in his gut.
Cody turns his gaze to Fox, who squares his jaw in mulish defiance. "The Council," he grits out, sounding as though Cody's dragging the phrase out of him syllable by syllable, "saw fit to recommend your training to Knight Rex."
That wasn't Master Fox's choice, Echo thinks, before promptly processing the last two words in his sentence. "Master?" he asks, voice clipping up hysterically at the end. "Isn't that-"
"These are desperate times," Cody smiles, thankfully taking over before Fox decides to strangle Echo personally. "There is a notable shortage of padawans and knights, and the Council felt it unfair to punish you for our own shortsightedness. Your actions prove your strength and honor in the line of duty, and we feel you deserve the chance to continue your training."
Echo isn't quite sure that letting Master O'Niner get eaten by an eel in front of him and then commanding a hasty retreat with the accompanying Peace Corp troops in any way proves strength or honor, but he doesn't say as much.
"Would you like us to call Knight Rex?" Bly asks, and Echo nods before he can talk himself out of it.
There's an overwhelmingly awkward fifteen minutes where Echo stands in the center and none of the council say anything. He's pretty sure none of them have any idea what to do with them, and he wouldn't be surprised if one or two of them blamed him for Master O'Niner's death. He knows his old master knew Fox, at least, so Echo's almost certain there's a bit of animosity there.
What's the saying? Something about adding fuel to a fire that then explodes and consumes everything? Echo would very much like to leave, actually.
"Masters," a low voice greets, and Echo holds his head high as a robed figure comes to stand next to him. He doesn't turn to meet his gaze, but he can see Rex's famous golden hair out of the corner of his eye nonetheless. "Padawan Echo," and his voice sounds a bit softer at that - though it could just be Echo's imagination.
"Knight Rex," Cody greets, thankfully intercepting Fox before he can start on some kind of diatribe. "The Council would like to ask as to your willingness of taking Echo on as your Padawan Learner."
Rex bristles a bit at that, and Echo shies away on instinct. "As the Council is aware," he coolly replies, "I already have a padawan, and I have no intention of repudiating him. I swore my oaths, and I plan to keep them."
"You misunderstand," Cody refutes, but there's a hint of a smile to his voice nonetheless. "We would ask as to your willingness to train both padawans."
Rex's Force Signature spikes with bewilderment at that for a moment before he reins it in. "Master?" he asks, confusion still evident. "The Code forbids-"
"These are unusual circumstances," Cody intercepts, raising a hand to silence Rex. "After some deliberation, we thought you the best to fill the gaps in Padawan Echo's learnings."
Echo, who has the overwhelming feeling that he's not supposed to be in the room, does not appreciate being referred to. He risks a glance at Rex's face, only to find his expression completely unreadable and Force Signature thoroughly shielded.
There's a long few moments where Echo stares at his feet and nobody says a word.
Finally, Rex smirks a bit, tucking his hands in his sleeves and turning to face Echo. "If he would have me," he starts, and Echo jumps a bit at being directly addressed, "it would be my honor."
Echo looks up at that, gaze landing on the blond man's soft smile. Rex is still a bit taller than him, and there's scars on what bits of skin Echo can see that speak of battles and danger, but the smile makes him look approachable. Not only approachable, even, but somehow kind.
"The honor is all mine," Echo murmurs, and Rex's smile only widens.
There's never been an instruction manual on how to face your former Master once they've turned to the dark side.
Fives grips his blade tight enough that his hands nearly shake, planting himself firmly between the approaching figure and his brothers. Echo's by his left arm and Tup by his right, and Dogma watches their backs, the low hum of his 'saber the only thing breaking the silence.
Fuck, if it isn't horrible to see Rex like this. Echo's gone still next to him, gaze pinned on their former Master's approaching form, and Fives leans a bit closer to brush their arms together.
It's for nothing, since the arm he touches is metal rather than flesh, but he hopes Echo can appreciate the sentiment.
Rex stops a few paces away, letting the dusty wind tug at the fabric of his cloak. He's wearing battle armor and a dark cloak, his hair still buzzed to his head and 'saber still hanging from the same place on his belt it always has. Even his expression is familiar, in a horrible, awful way. If Fives looks away from the golden eyes, he has the exact same look of joy and relief that he always had when seeing them after a mission gone awry.
Rex's gaze flits from him to Tup to Dogma, landing on Echo last. Fives can see the exact moment that his brother's identity processes - Rex takes a half-step forwards, hand coming up in an aborted attempt to reach out.
"Echo," he rasps, and Echo draws his blade in his left hand, setting his stance in an attempt to hide the way his shoulders tremble. "Echo, vod'ika-"
"You're no brother of mine," Echo growls, though Fives can hear the pain the words hide. They have the intended effect, though - Rex flinches, taking a full step back as his eyes go wide and hurt.
"Ey'ika," he breathes, and Echo shakes his head, the motion tugging a few silver strands from the hasty ponytail he gathered them into on the transport.
"My brother," he hisses, "would never have hurt Master Cody or Master Fox. My brother would never have hurt Dogma. My brother would never want to take away our free will just to make us into puppets for his sick game!"
Rex squares his shoulders at that, and Fives thumbs the ignition of his 'saber, letting the blade burst out. "Rex," he declares, though he thinks it comes out more as a pathetic plea, "stand down. You're out-numbered and out-planned. You won't win this fight."
There's a hidden plea in the second part - "please don't make us hurt you". There's a hidden plea because even like this, even with his eyes sickly gold and his blade a bloody red, Fives can't ever give up on Rex.
Instead of dropping his blade, Rex thumbs it to life.
Tup pulls out his blaster on Fives's right, and Echo lights his 'saber on his left. Dogma shifts to stand between Echo and Fives, trusting Echo to cover his blind side, and based on the way Echo bumps his metal knuckles against Dogma's, this is something they've discussed.
Fives tries not to feel a bit hurt by that.
"I'll make you understand," Rex states, angling his blade at them in a parody of a Djem So pose. "Even if you don't want me to, I'll keep you safe. That was the oath I swore as your Master."
Fives leaps forwards, and their lightsabers clash.
The Empire does not fall when Rex does.
The Empire does not fall when Rex, lying crumpled and beaten on the ground, looks up at Fives with blood spilling from his lips and agony written in his eyes. The Empire does not fall when Rex begs them to come with him, begs them to listen to him, to Fall and protect themselves for one with him.
Fives can't deliver the final blow. Tup, his hands shaking around the handle of his blaster, can't deliver the final blow. Dogma, his old wounds aching from fresh exertion and new 'saber scars burning across his chest, can't deliver the final blow.
It starts and ends with Echo. It starts with Echo running for a shuttle long ago, starts at the Citadel, starts with the lesson to never leave a man behind. It starts and ends with that lesson - never leave a man behind.
Never leave your allies behind if they could be alive, and never leave your enemies behind for the same.
Echo delivers the final blow, and watches as the light drains from Rex's eyes. He delivers the final blow, and after a few moments, falls to his knees and wails.
In another world, the Empire never rose. In another world, Echo never ran for the shuttle. In another world, Fox or Cody or anyone pulled Rex aside and let him sob against their robes, promised him that Echo was watching over him from the Force and that he would want him to be happy. In another world, Rex gripped Echo's arm when he rose from the stasis chamber. In another world, they were never Jedi at all.
Anakin is the one to set Rex's pyre alight. He and Padme come to watch, Luke and Leia standing by their feet and Anakin's arm over Fives's shoulders. Dogma and Tup tell them stories about Master Rex - one of the greatest Jedi they've ever known - and never mention what he became.
Two weeks after Rex's death, Echo cuts Dogma's padawan braid. Fives is the one to embrace him as a Knight, though, and Dogma sobs into his robes for it.
Five weeks after Rex's death, Tup sets off with Echo to extract a special ops team from the Empire. Fives makes them promise to comm, and they do.
Three months after Rex's death, they start anew.
Dogma chooses the planet - a small planet, deep in the Outer Rim. Fives sets to work on building the house, felling trees and cutting boards by hand. Anakin, between missions, helps where he can. Dogma starts with gardening, carving out rows in the fertile soil to plant crops and flowers of all kinds.
Six months after Rex's death, the house is finished.
Eight months after Rex's death, Echo and Tup come home.