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English
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Part 19 of Cole Does Whumptober 2020
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The_Newbie's Star Wars Fanfic
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2020-10-26
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1,385
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1/1
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taab'echaaj'la

Summary:

(marching far away)

“You’ll be the last of us.” Keeli had said once, his eyes heavy and knowing, and there had been something powerful buzzing under his skin. He'd never been wrong before, but that didn't stop Rex from hoping that he would be.

(No.19 - Broken Hearts)

Work Text:

(“Rex.” Keeli says suddenly, like he was playing with the vowels.

7567 looks up from his datapad in bemusement at his batchmate’s sudden voice, eyebrow raising in confusion, but Keeli only smiles back at him in excitement, dark eyes glittering. They’re in their bunk room, surrounded by the mutters of their squadmates and aching from the day’s training, and 7567 had been going over some of the Command-class courses Cody had slipped him when no one was watching. “You say something?”

Keeli’s grin widens, and he kicks his legs through the open air above ‘67’s head from where he sits on the edge of his pod. “You haven’t picked a name yet, ‘67.” He points out, and 7567 rolls his eyes.

“I don’t want to pick one.”

Keeli’s lips pressed together, eyes flashing with quiet anger, “They’re not going to decommission you for having a name.” He says, and 7567 sighs, putting down his datapad to give his brother a blank stare.

“I’d rather not risk it, thanks.” He runs a hand though the short bristles of white-blond hair. Keeping it so short helped 7567 slip under the notice of the scientists and trainers that would take any excuse to decommission a mutant, even after the Prime had ordered them to stop removing clones with nothing more than aesthetic differences - as long as 7567 stayed useful, he stayed alive. The harsh white lights of the facility made it hard to see the colour of his hair when it was shaved down, and without it, 7567 looked just like any other clone.

“Aw, come on ‘67. Even Mojo and Drayk chose names and they’re boring.” Keeli pouts dramatically, ignoring Drayk’s mutter to leave him out of it and dodging the boot Mojo had aimed for his head. “Loosen up a bit! You’re the only one who hasn’t picked one yet.”

“And I don’t plan to.” ‘67 says with a bland shrug, ignoring the increased intensity of Keeli’s pout with practised ease, turning back to his datapad. If he looks at his brother’s face, he’ll crumble and give in, 7567 knows, because always does.

Fordo picks on him endlessly for being too soft, but ‘67 can’t deny his only batchmate anything.

“Well,” Keeli grumbles, and 7567 ducks under his next kick without missing a beat, “If you won’t pick one, then I will.”

“Right.” ‘67 drawls, rolling his eyes, but he may as well humour him or he’d be unbearable. “As long as it’s not something as stupid as ‘Keeli’.”

His brother squawks in offense, and ‘67 catches his following kick without so much as blinking. A strong tug on the offending foot overbalanced Keeli, sending him toppling off of his pod and to the floor in a flurry of flailing limbs and high-pitched cursing his batchmate must have picked up from Wolffe.

Around them, their squad laughs.

“You were asking for that, Keels.” Herc teases from his pod, and under him Styles cackles while Keeli whines and pouts on the floor.

Only his pride was hurt, but it would heal.

“You’re a sheb, Rex.”

‘67 blinks in shock, looking up from the scrolling tactics on his screen once more when Keeli speaks, “What?”

“You’re hanging out with Alpha-17’s boys too much.” His brother whines dramatically, leveraging himself back up only to flop over once more when he reaches ‘67’s pod. 7567 yelps when a sharp elbow catches him in the ribs. “You’ve become a sheb yourself. It’s photosynthesis.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what photosynthesis is, asshole.” He grumbles, rubbing his aching ribs, before squinting at Keeli. “Why Rex?”

Keeli laughs in response, but there’s an odd knowing glint in his eyes that makes ‘67’s stomach twist nervously. “Because you’ll be the best of us someday.”)

 

Rex looks up only out of habit when the doors to his office slide open, barely acknowledging the brother that stands there before dropping his gaze back to the casualty report he’s holding in his hands. He’s numb, only a shell that keeps moving out of necessity and habit as he stares at the list of dead in front of him.

It was his fault. All these men had died because the 501st hadn’t come to back them up.

From his door, Cody sighs - a heavy, mournful sound - as he steps further into the office, letting the door slide shut behind him. The beep of the lock being engaged is loud in the silence that follows as his older brother walks towards his desk, but still Rex doesn’t look up from the one name on the list that stands out to him the most.

Something heavy and hollow clatters when it’s placed on his desk. “I went to their last known coordinates.” Cody’s voice is soft and gentle as he speaks, bringing back memories of all the times his older brother would let him crawl into his pod to hide back on Kamino, but with a sort of edge to it that Cody had only recently picked up. It’s heavy with loss, and Cody had had to learn it to comfort grieving men who had lost brothers and friends to the War. “He would have wanted you to have it.”

Rex finally tears his eyes away from Ponds' report, lifting his gaze, and his breath catches. He's  frozen, staring at the grimy helmet covered with dirt and marred by scorch marks, but the distinctive design still stands out proudly in red. He fumbles with the datapad, letting it drop onto his lap without resistance, and he reaches for the helmet without even being fully aware of what he's doing. Shaking hands trace the curving horns, and Rex's breathing shivers.

Keeli.

It makes everything feel horrifically real to have his brother’s helmet sitting accusingly on his desk, like he can’t ignore the truth anymore.

“I’m sorry, Rex.” Cody says softly, and Rex has to drag his eyes away from the damaged plastoid to watch his older brother kneel beside him. His armour is still caked with dust, and spotted with ash and scorch marks, and there’s deep, dark bags under his eyes - Cody must have jumped over from the Negotiator the moment he was done reporting to the High Generals, all to bring Rex the only piece of his batchmate that was left.

“He’s really gone.” Rex murmurs, feeling lost, and Cody reaches forwards to gently squeeze the back of his neck. His eyes burn, and he closes them in shame, leaning into Cody’s hold as he breathes, trying to stop himself from sobbing like a cadet. He’s a Captain now, he loses brothers everyday, so many on his own orders. They’d always known the risk, they always knew that any day could be their last, so why was he having so much trouble accepting that Keeli was gone.

He’s the last now, the only one left of their batch.

“Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.” Cody says, pulling Rex close and offering him a mirshmure’cya that the Captain leans into with a quiet hiccup.

“Not gone, merely marching far away.” He echoes thickly.

Keeli is dead. He had died on Ryloth with his General and men, waiting for reinforcements that would never come because the 501st had been forced to retreat. They had lost a third of their numbers before even reaching the surface. Keeli is dead, because Rex had failed to get to him, and no one else had been rerouted until it was already too late to help them.

Safe in his office, with only Cody as a witness, Rex lets himself crumble. He breaks, sobbing into Cody’s shoulder like a lost child, mourning his loss, because outside of his brother’s arms he needs to be strong. Tomorrow, Rex will need to put himself back together and put on a show. He’ll need to be Captain Rex, unshakable and strong, because that’s what his men needed, but for now he can just be Rex. With Cody, he doesn’t have to pretend, because his brother is always there to catch him; a solid support that would help him glue his broken parts back together every time he shatters.

“You’ll be the last of us.” Keeli had said once, his eyes heavy and knowing, and there had been something powerful buzzing under his skin.

Rex had always hoped that Keeli would be wrong.

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