Chapter Text
Rex isn’t part of the Battle of Geonosis. While many of his brothers are there for the first battle of the war, Rex is still on Kamino. He stays on Kamino while his brothers are sent to replace the ones lost on Geonosis. He stays on Kamino while his brothers are assigned to battalions. He stays on Kamino, buried by the Kaminoans who don’t want the Jedi to know about their subpar product.
He tries not to be too bitter about it. He does his exercises, he trains his brothers to the best of his ability in hopes that they won’t die in their first fight, and he keeps his head down so the Kaminoans don’t forget that Cody isn’t around anymore to protect him.
And then Alpha-17 returns.
There are whispers that he’s back. Rex doesn’t believe them at first, because half of them say he’s been medically discharged, and the other half say he’s here for decommissioning and no. This is Alpha-17. Rex trained with him, back in the beginning, when he was doing his Advanced Recon Commando training.
Alpha-17 is a tough son of a bitch.
Rex creeps into medical one night when the Kaminoans are asleep. They don’t bother with patrols or watch shifts, as if they don’t think there’s anything to fear from the vode. Maybe they’re right. The Kaminoans kill them for “imperfections” and even though Rex and his brothers are bred for war, they don’t fight back.
When Rex breaks into the private medical room, he pauses. Alpha-17 is stretched out on a med-bed, deeply asleep. The dim lights in the room wash out Alpha-17’s skin. Skin that is covered in bruises and burns, cuts that are healing and others deep enough that they’ll scar.
There is a tube in Alpha-17’s throat. The machines he’s hooked up to help him breathe. They help his heart beat in a steady rhythm. They feed him.
Alpha-17 is—he’s broken.
Rex falls heavily into the chair next to Alpha-17’s bed. Alpha-17 trained him, but he is more than that. He’s the best of them. He’s who every vod wants to be. It isn’t the Prime they aspire to be like, but Alpha-17. The strongest, the bravest, the most Mandalorian of them all.
The war chewed him up and spit him back to Kamino.
Are the rumors true? Will the Kaminoans decommission him? If Alpha-17 isn’t enough, how do any of the rest of them stand a chance?
Rex leaves medical before he’s caught, but the image of Alpha-17 lingers with him.
#
Alpha-17 recovers, and he returns to the training roster, and he’s as much of an asshole as he ever was.
“You!” Alpha-17 barks.
There are fifty of them in the room, but Rex knows exactly who Alpha-17 is singling out. He waits for his brothers to run past him and then he jogs over to where Alpha-17 waits.
“Sir,” Rex greets.
“What are you still doing on this hellhole?”
“I go where I’m told,” Rex says.
Alpha-17 grits his teeth. His hands tremble, enough for Rex to notice before Alpha-17 clenches his hands into fists. “It’s never a good thing when our creators and our generals are competing for who is the biggest fucking idiot.”
Rex has a lifetime of training, so he doesn’t do more than blink in response to Alpha-17’s outburst.
“I’m assigning you each of the exams,” Alpha-17 says. “I expect perfect scores across the board. You’re wasted here. At least out there, you might help before you fucking die.”
“Yes, sir,” Rex says.
#
Three weeks later, Rex is given his assignment.
“Kenobi’s one of the good ones,” Alpha-17 says as he sends Rex to pack. Alpha-17 rubs his thumb over one of the raised scars on his hand. “Once you’re packed, report to my quarters. We’ll have a drink before you’re shipped out.”
#
Captain Rex. It stings every time someone greets him. Captain is a respectable position, but it isn’t what he was trained for. He was put through the ARC training, he was supposed to be command class. And then his hair stayed stubbornly blonde.
Rex reports to Commander Elekta when his transport lands on The Resolute. Rex arrives with nearly a full company. He briefs Elekta on their strengths, their weaknesses, and why they’re missing a handful from their full one-hundred forty-four.
“General Ti says the Force guided her,” Rex says. He holds back his wince. If he ever said shit like that, he’d be scolded for making excuses and then put on punishment duty.
Elekta, a brother who has shaved stripes in his hair, simply sighs. “Of course, she did. I assume the Force will also guide us to who should fill out the rest of the company? You call yourselves Torrent Company?” Elekta reviews the names and whistles. “You all have elite training.”
“We’re a specialized team,” Rex says.
“I know who one of your additions will be,” Elekta says. He sends a message out through his comm and then resumes going over details with Rex.
When the door slides open, Rex recognizes Kenobi. Even if Alpha-17 hadn’t described the Jedi to him, Rex did his due diligence and read up on his assignment. He knows the Jedi assigned to the 501st. Not a general, like other battalions have.
Kenobi is young, twenty-three standard. He isn’t a general but he isn’t a commander, either. He exists somewhere between them. General Jinn, who is stationed with the 212th, but oversees several battalions, including the 501st, is a proper Jedi general. And he has a padawan who serves as a commander. That’s Skywalker.
And then there’s Kenobi. He isn’t a commander, because he’s too old to be a padawan, but he’s still under General Jinn’s command, same as Rex and Elekta, and the rest of the 501st.
“Sir,” Rex greets because that’s a safe, neutral address.
Kenobi’s nose scrunches up as he frowns. “There’s no need for that, Captain. Call me Obi-Wan. Or Kenobi, if my first name is too familiar.”
“Then you should call me Rex.”
Elekta looks between them and then nods. “Kenobi, Captain Rex has arrived today from Kamino. He’s brought with him Torrent Company, to round out our numbers. I’m assigning you to Torrent Company. The divisions of the platoons and squads are at your discretion. You will be our elite, specialized team, sent in when the odds aren’t in our favor.”
Kenobi scoffs and drops into a chair with no regard for proper posture or military address. “We’re your miracle company, then.”
“I believe the proper term is the “Oh shit, squad”,” Rex says before he remembers that he isn’t in the mess but in his commanding officer’s quarters.
Fortunately, Elekta doesn’t do more than pinch the bridge of his nose. “This will either be the best thing to happen to the 501st or the worst. Please, do your best to make it the former.”
“My dear Elekta,” Kenobi begins, suddenly solicitous.
Elekta holds up a hand. “Do not even start with me, Kenobi.”
Kenobi turns his attention to Rex. His eyes dance with amusement. “Did you know that after only two weeks of having met me, Commander Elekta commed Commander Cody and asked for a demotion? Commander Cody refused.”
Rex feels a smile tugging at his lips. “Is he still holding a grudge over the Pillow Incident, sir?”
“No one holds a grudge like Cody,” Elekta grumbles.
“This is a story I want to hear.” Kenobi turns another smile on Rex. “I propose a trade. If Elekta is finished with us, I can show you where Torrent is bunking down, and we can get to know each other.”
Kenobi’s smile is languid and promises more than a simple information exchange. Amused and mildly alarmed, Rex waits for Elekta to properly dismiss them and then follows Kenobi out of Elekta’s quarters.
The commander’s voice makes them both pause in the hallway. “Kenobi?”
Kenobi doesn’t bother to turn around. “No explosions until we’re on-planet. I remember the rules.”
Rex has so many questions.
#
“Kix, our medic,” Rex introduces over dinner. The mess hall on The Resolute isn’t much different from the one on Kamino. The food still isn’t appetizing, but it’s better than nothing so Rex eats it.
Kenobi has picked fussily at his plate, but he has the same fare at the rest of them. No special privileges for the Jedi, at least none that he’s willing to flaunt.
“I’ve been warned about you,” Kix says. He points a fork threateningly in Kenobi’s direction.
Kenobi gasps and presses a palm to his chest. “I would never cause trouble for a medic,” Kenobi says.
This is what Rex has learned in the few short hours since he’s met Kenobi. He’s an incorrigible flirt. He’s personable and has a way of giving his full attention to whoever is speaking that makes some of the shinies stutter and stumble over their words. He’s funny. He’s also kind of an asshole.
Rex thinks he’s going to fit right in.
“Hmph,” Kix says.
“Ralph,” Rex introduces next.
Beside Ralph, Spot laughs. “Wanna know how he got his name? We had our first flight sim and he—” Spot mimes puking.
Ralph punches Spot’s shoulder, hard, and then glances at Kenobi, waiting for Kenobi to give him a hard time as well.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ralph,” Kenobi says.
“Spot.” Rex points. “Mischief. Mo.”
“Mo?” Kenobi asks.
“Short for Geronimo,” Mo answers. “I’m good with heights and even better with jetpacks.”
“Oh, I like you,” Kenobi says and something about the way he curls the words has Mo blushing.
They go around until they’ve all been introduced. Kenobi’s poked at his tray some more and then, apparently haven eaten all he plans to, he slides the rest over to Ralph who happily polishes it off.
“What about you?” Spot asks.
“What about me?” Kenobi returns. “You know my name. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Part of Torrent, assuming you’ll have me.”
“You’re a Jedi,” Spot says, which is an obvious enough statement that more than one brother smacks their forehead. “Can we see your lightsaber?”
“Why, I never,” Kenobi says with light-hearted offense. “Should I start asking you men to whip out your deeces without so much as a by your leave?”
A blush sweeps up Spot’s face.
“Um,” Mo says. He glances at Rex.
They better grow some spines before their first deployment, Rex thinks. “Deece is slang for dick,” Rex explains.
“And this?” Kenobi holds out his lightsaber hilt. “You don’t think there’s anything phallic about a lightsaber?” He laughs at the slightly horrified faces they must all be making. “I know the Jedi you have met have, for the most part, been your commanding officers, but we were all adolescents at one point. We’re not all as stuffy and proper as General Windu.”
With a grin, Rex now knows better than to trust, Kenobi extends his saber to Spot. “Did you only want to see, or did you want to touch it as well?”
Spot, to his credit, clenches his jaw and then takes the saber.
“Firmer grip,” Kenobi advises, and then laughs as Spot’s blush deepens. He takes his saber back and clips it to his belt again. “Now that I’m part of your team, we should begin group exercises. Fighting with a Jedi is different than fighting with each other.”
“I’ll send you the schedule,” Rex says.
#
They were made for the Jedi, that was the party line. The Jedi were these mythic figures in their training, and part of Rex had always known they’d disappoint.
Kenobi is different.
The first time Torrent Company meets for a training sim, he watches. He sees the way they work together and then he approaches Rex with thoughts on how to integrate into them, rather than making them adjust to him.
He’s thoughtful. He’s respectful.
He’s also a fucking adrenaline junkie.
“Woo-hoo!” Kenobi shouts as he freefalls off a cliff.
He slows his descent so that he touches down gently on the ground.
“Fuck, sir,” Mo says, and he sounds panicked, even through his vocorder. “If you’re going to do that, I’d prefer you have a jetpack.”
“I’m afraid I left it in my quarters,” Kenobi says. He laughs as he pulls the band out of his hair, shakes out the red mess and then twists it into a topknot. “It isn’t exactly regulation.”
Mo breathes deeply, his inhales and exhales echoing in Rex’s ears.
Later, after the battle is over, and Torrent is reunited with The Resolute and the rest of the 501st, Mo insists on seeing Kenobi’s jetpack. Rex goes with him because, as captain of their company, he needs to know the strengths and weaknesses of everyone under his command. He still isn’t sure if he or Kenobi is the commanding officer, but he’s going to assume it’s himself until someone corrects him.
Kenobi’s almost hesitant as he leads them to his quarters. And there’s definitely a pause before he opens what Rex would have assumed was an armor locker except—
Oh.
Oh.
Gleaming in the light from the room is a full set of beskar’gam.
“I know the Mand’alor,” Kenobi says quietly as Rex stares and Mo’s hands hover over the shiny metal. “It seemed cruel or like I was flaunting our differences if I wore it.”
A reminder that while Rex and his vode share the face of the previous Mand’alor, they aren’t Mandalorian. The Prime didn’t even consider them his ade. They were product. And, somehow, this Jedi has the armor of a Mandalorian.
“Did you earn it?” Rex asks, curious how much Kenobi knows about the Prime’s culture.
Kenobi laughs, still soft, something painful and sorrowful in it. “I certainly did.”
“Then you should wear it,” Rex says. “Maybe…” It’s Rex’s turn to hesitate. “A bit of paint might make it stand out less.”
“Are you sure?” Kenobi asks, as if he’s concerned about claiming part of a culture that isn’t his.
“You’re part of Torrent, aren’t you?” Rex replies. “You’re one of us.”
#
Kenobi paints his armor white, all of it. Once the white dries, he adds blue detailing. It’s enough for his armor to pass as a vod’s armor as long as no one looks too closely and, honestly, no one does.
The next time they go to battle, their Jedi is amongst their ranks, armored like one of them.
Rex still doesn’t believe he and his brothers were made for the Jedi, but he wonders if maybe, this Jedi was made for them.
#
Kenobi takes the seat across from Rex in the rec room which means he’s either braver or more of a fool than Rex’s brothers. Cody always makes fun of Rex for his thinking face. He calls it his plotting a murder face. Rex doesn’t think it’s that bad, but it must be if Kenobi’s the only one willing to join him at the little table he’s claimed for himself and his datapads.
“What’s on your mind?” Kenobi asks.
“Transfers and additions. I think we’ve found the personnel to bring Torrent up to full capacity.”
“And?”
Rex slides the datapad over so Kenobi can review the names and bios provided. It’s a solid list of men. Rex trusts Alpha-17’s eye, and he knows it’s Alpha-17 who’s recommending these men. It’s why the final two names are on the list.
“What has you concerned?” Kenobi asks.
“Fives and Echo. Did you hear about Domino squad?”
Kenobi’s frown means he has. Domino squad went on a run-of-the-mill training mission, and it was a shitshow.
“Cody and I were the ones who showed up. Entirely by accident, mind you. And too late to be any help.”
“Fives and Echo would disagree,” Kenobi says.
“They’re good,” Rex says, because he had trained with them both once they were returned to Kamino. The Kaminoans kept them out of any formal units as if they thought bad luck was contagious. Alpha-17 must have pulled some strings to have them assigned. Rex wants them, but he’s responsible for an entire company, not just these two men. “But it was a tough mission to recover from.”
“You can’t have survivor’s guilt if you don’t survive,” Kenobi says. There are shadows under his eyes as if he knows this from personal experience. “I trust your opinion. If you think they’d be a good fit, then we should welcome them to Torrent.”
Rex nods and then signs his name to the personnel list and sends it back to Kamino for processing. “Cody will be pissed when he finds out Alpha-17 gave me first choice.”
Kenobi grins and the mood around them lightens. “You should have led with that, Rex. I would have agreed straight away.”