A.N. Sorry, y'all, but Nya's calling it quits. I had two more chapters already in the works after this, and fourteen ships lined up after that, but I fell out of love with writing in general. It's a lot of effort for lackluster results, and it's just not worth it anymore.

There's a pain that sleeps inside
It sleeps with just one eye
And awakens the moment that you leave
Though I try to look away
The pain it still remains
Only leaving when you're next to me

Tipoca City sat battered, littered with bodies, and still smoldering in some areas, but safe. Having chased Ventress and General Grievous from their midst and hunted down the remaining enemy droids, the victors barely had a moment of hard-won reprieve before orders came down the line to begin clean up. The resident clones from ARC troopers to cadets began searching for survivors, salvaging what they could from the dead, and destroying anything left behind by the enemy. Fully armored clones operating the scant heavy equipment available dislodged Separatist Trident-class drill ships from Tipoca's towers and let the dark waters claim them.

The 501st retreated to their own ships at the earliest opportunity, and all of Obi-Wan's cheerful articulation couldn't hide the fact that they clearly did not want to help with clean up. Shaak Ti never lingered in one place very long; she helped locate soldiers pinned under debris in one building, bandaged wounded clones in another, and wrapped the bodies of the dead in yet another. Enough corpses swathed in white lined one of the open air bridges to render it unusable. They were ready for a burial by sea, though Prime Minister Lama Su failed to regard the idea of a clone memorial as reason to pause the important clean up reconstruction. So soldiers took it upon themselves to swathe brothers they knew and personally cast them into the waters below.

Commander Blitz, now the highest ranking in the Rancor Battalion, limped through the armory to observe the last drill ship be pulled from the building. The most nerve-shredding sound filled the entire building as the ship shrieked along the slanted roof, durasteel-on-durasteel. A fitting end for an already bothersome transport.

The shiny white soldiers ready to ship off soon, as well as the gray-painted Kamino security forces looked to Blitz for orders. In his yellow-striped armor and with his diamond-patterned kama swaying, he certainly stuck out amid the white and gray of Tipoca City. In the span of the past half hour, Commander Blitz had individually directed enough soldiers to form an overstrengthened company. Just as he limped out of the armory, a short-haired cadet came running up to offer Blitz a helmet, decorated in painfully familiar gray designs.

"They're wrapping his body now, sir," the boy said, his eyes not quite daring to look Blitz in the visor.

"Take me to him," ordered Blitz, properly stowing Commander Colt's helmet under his arm. The boy darted off, leaving the ARC trooper to gimp after him, hissing out all his pain into a muted bucket. The hours of the battle all blurred together making it impossible for Blitz to remember how he actually received his injury; all he knew was near the end of it he was limping with a leg that didn't quite work right.

By the time he made it to the open bridge, troopers were just starting to wrap Commander Colt's head in linen. Blitz noticed his brother's gray painted armor set off to the side, a lightsaber hole cut into the breastplate. A bloodlustful heat sparked in Blitz's tight chest, a desire to find his brother's killer and use their own lightsaber to hack off limbs one by one. His hand clenched tighter around Colt's helmet.

The soldiers stepped back after they completed wrapping Colt, deferring to Blitz. Despite his bad leg, Blitz switched the helmet for his brother, scooping the body up in his arms and carrying it over to the edge of the bridge.

Days without rain were a rarity this time of the year; days with minimal cloud cover were rarer still. The sun was just a glow on the horizon now, allowing all the brightest stars to shine through on what had to be the clearest night in ages. If there was one thing Blitz would remember about his brother, it was that Colt lived for the nights he could see the stars. A fitting night to bury him.

Blitz dropped him over the edge and watched Colt's swathed body fall farther and farther until silently embraced by the ocean.

Without a word or a look to the other soldiers, some busily wrapping brothers, others busily watching him, Blitz reclaimed Colt's helmet and limped off toward the living area, one of the few buildings untouched by the Separatist invasion.

The journey back to his living quarters was longer with his limp; it didn't help that Colt's helmet grew heavier along the way. The passageways he traversed improved from damaged warzone to pristine white halls. The clones he passed in the unaffected areas moved with less of a purpose, and this was the first time where Blitz began to see signs of Kaminoans again. The soldiers to pass him, both shinies and gray guards, saluted, while the Kaminoans glided past with the subtlest nods in acknowledgment.

Blitz's room, which he had shared with Havoc, seemed a little emptier as the door sighed open in welcome. He set Colt's helmet on the top of his personal locker, right next to Havoc's helmet marred by a blaster hole through half of the face.

Blitz braced his hands against the front of the locker and just leaned there for the longest time, head bowed. The scrolling information on his heads-up display screen informed him that most clean-up operations were pausing for the night, to be resumed at first light tomorrow. With a grunt equal parts motivational and pained, Blitz pushed himself off of the locker to stalk outside on a tour of the damage to make sure orders were being followed.

He passed Sten, the only other surviving ARC trooper from Rancor Battalion, on his way toward his own room.

Sten, the least decorated out of all the ARCs, only wearing several red dots along his helmet and breastplate, a red dual pauldron, and a plain black kama, paused long enough to land a slap on Blitz's shoulder, reporting, "Cloning chamber's almost all cleared up."

"How bad was it?"

"Few thousand lost." Sten shook his head. "Just wanna pass out and put today behind me."

"Sounds good, vod. I'll see you in the morning." He returned Sten's slap on his red pauldron before continuing on. He made it halfway back to the war torn sections before settling into a manageable gait for his hurt leg.

It was a relief to find soldiers had already left the machinery and reconstruction as it was for the night; Blitz wasn't in the mood to pull rank on anyone at the moment, especially because all other soldiers were no doubt just as affected by this battle as himself. He would much rather just follow Sten's lead and go to bed. He passed the same bridge as before to see a few clones tipping the last of the swathed bodies into the water and Blitz took a moment to hang his head.

"Commander," a soothing voice spoke up from behind him, pleasantly pulling him from thoughts he would rather not think. "Good evening."

Blitz turned to see Shaak Ti approaching as fluidly as the two Kaminoans following her. He easily recognized Taun We, the administrative aide to the Prime Minister, wearing her usual headband, beads dangling from one side. Blitz assumed the second Kaminoan was Nala Se, the newly arrived administrator of Kaliida Shoals. As far as Kaminoans went, Nala Se looked strict and downright unapproachable, especially compared to Taun We.

Blitz replied with a general nod for all three females. "Er... good evening." A greeting had never felt so empty before. He watched the general pause to scan from the rubble to the clones returning from the bridge, their task of sending off their brothers finally complete. The Kaminoans, lacking Shaak Ti's patience, halted a little further on as if not expecting her to stop for so long.

"How is clean up progressing?"

Contrary to all his training, a sarcastic and petulant answer sprang to the tip of his tongue so quickly that Blitz almost choked on it. Three females' gazes on him as he momentarily stammered for a correct reply was the last thing he needed right then.

"Er, ah... it's going, sir. All tridents are extracted, most holes are patched. The remaining debris will be removed by tomorrow, and from there we can start rebuilding the interior."

Shaak Ti nodded at the news, that slow nod which only dug under Blitz's skin now. Jedi were on par with Kaminoans for not displaying emotion, but this was a bit much. The casualty numbers weren't just battle-ready soldiers; trainees, cadets, and those still growing in their vats made up the list of victims. Commander Colt and Havoc made up the list of victims. And now—

"I'm sorry for your loss, Commander Blitz," Shaak Ti said. The hand she rested on his breastplate felt as heavy as if she'd punched him. All he could do was nod in return.

"Have you been to the medics about your leg yet?"

"Sir?" Blitz asked after an immediate double take. As far as he remembered, this was the first time since the battle began that he had run into her, let alone talked to her.

"You need to go, Blitz. Take care of yourself so that you may continue to lead others."

"I'll go when I get a spare moment, sir," he promised with a nod. He meant it, too, but he first had to complete his rounds.

Shaak Ti stared at him with a quiet intensity that made him think she could see right through his helmet into his eyes— into his very soul. "You will go now if you would rather not be carried there by me, Commander."

Blitz swallowed. "…Yes, sir."

The commander smelled sterile chemicals through his helmet filters before he even reached the medical bay doors. It was blatant to see why he avoided this place as long as he could— clones with much more serious injuries than him crowded every available space inside; the medics ran in a frenzy to help each victim. One or two Kaminoan doctors could be seen towering in the room, drifting lazily from patient to patient, as was their way.

The head medic paused mid-bustle, arms full of seemingly random supplies, to throw his overwhelmed glance Blitz's way. "What can I do you for, sir?" It was almost a dare.

"Just pain meds," he grunted in reply. "Some of your strongest."

The medic juggled his arm load about until he managed to toss a small package in Blitz's direction. Without even waiting for Blitz to catch it, he continued on to his patients.

Two empty helmets greeted Blitz when he returned to his room, staring at him from atop his wall locker. His mind momentarily assumed his brothers were there; the last time he really saw those helmets was when his fellow ARC troopers wore them.

Dropping his own helmet onto his bunk, Blitz hunted for water to take his painkillers.

The room was too quiet. Havoc wasn't always the best conversationalist, but just having his brother in the room was better than this empty void making Havoc's half of the cabin seem ten times larger. Between the open airlock-emptiness of the room and the staring helmets, Blitz felt unwelcome in what he had come to consider his own home.

As soon as he changed into his red sleeping uniform— the one with his designation number stitched into it— Blitz was out the door. The painkillers at least helped him limp less noticeably.

The windows staring out over the ocean obscured by the night pinged as fresh raindrops slanted against them, sparse at first but with a growing frequency. Blitz breathed a little easier walking through the brightly-lit halls. He pondered finding a door to the outside when he passed a male Kaminoan, a scientist by the looks of him. Blitz would've been happy to pass him by without a word, but apparently he was the only one.

"You, clone."

Blitz turned to the wide-eyed, blank-faced scientist. "...Sir?" His sinking tone wasn't helping matters.

"Your hair is terribly out of regulation. You should remedy this before leaving private quarters." The Kaminoan gave a finalizing nod before gliding away, leaving Blitz to run a hand down his face. His stubble was longer than he expected; he hadn't passed the mirror in his 'fresher in who knows how long. He knew for a fact that his hair was within reg length— it was still growing back from when he shaved it all off weeks ago— but he ran his hands through it to make sure what he had wasn't completely disheveled, narrowed eyes glaring after the retreating Kaminoan.

"Commander Blitz?" came a soft voice from behind him. He whirled around to find Shaak Ti standing there, calmly watching him. "How is your leg faring now?"

Blitz slowly lowered his hands. "It's... better, sir." He nonchalantly began straightening his uniform, because if one scientist could get offended at his appearance, surely the resident Jedi general would—

"I was about to make some tea in my quarters if you would like to join me. I know you've been through much today," she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the hallway beyond. The general lived in the nicer half of the resident building, where rooms were bigger and more luxurious.

Part of Blitz wanted to crawl back to his own room, curl up and hibernate after this tolling experience, but one glance back in the direction of his quarters granted him a view of Nala Se gliding toward them. Rumors already circulated around his brothers about her stinginess.

Blitz cleared his throat, turning quickly back to Shaak Ti. "I wouldn't dream of imposing, sir... but tea sounds lovely." The general's languid gait was perfect for his limp, but possibly slower than a handicapped Kaminoan; at this pace, Nala Se would certainly catch up, and Blitz dearly didn't want to interact with any more of her kind tonight. He had half the mind to put a hand on Shaak Ti's back and push her along.

Blitz's hope for escape died when an unhurried voice from behind called, "Master Ti." And as magnanimous as all clones had grown to know her, Shaak Ti stopped and turned to the Kaminoan. Blitz casually stretched his hand across his jaw in a very slow scratch as if he could hide his reg-breaking stubble. He even tilted his face away from their conversation, but that didn't help him for long.

"Which one is this?"

A spike of contempt shot through Blitz; his hand dropped and his gaze fell squarely on Nala Se, almost challenging her to remember him. His inexplicable anger fizzled when the general laid a light hand on his shoulder. With it, a calming wave swept over his entire body. He blinked, suddenly glancing to Shaak Ti to find her staring right back at him, her gaze as tranquil as ever.

"Nala Se, I'm sure you remember Commander Blitz from earlier?" the Jedi said, looking back to the Kaminoan. "He's the new leader of the Rancor Battalion— the ARC troopers who train the men."

"Ah, yes," she replied, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "One would think clones of such a high caliber would adhere to regulation better."

Shaak Ti's hand never left his shoulder. "One must also remember today has been very trying, and we all could use time to rest and reflect before returning to our duties tomorrow." Her montrals tilted in a bow of her head. "Good night, Nala Se."

The Kaminoan blinked, slightly taken aback at being dismissed so suddenly, but bowed her head in return before continuing on at that aggravatingly slow pace. Once she rounded the nearest bend in the corridor, Shaak Ti finally released Blitz's shoulder. The absence of her touch allowed his previous agitated emotions to flood back into his mind— emotions he had certainly been able to keep under lockdown before this.

"The offer for tea remains if you're still interested, Commander." she said.

Blitz looked from her red hands to her face and nodded dumbly.

Shaak Ti's quarters were as bright as the rest of Tipoca City, and larger than his own which he had shared from the beginning. Her bed rested in an alcove in the back, on what would be Havoc's side of the room, while a nice, high-backed couch and table set occupied Blitz's side of the room, with much more space in between than he was used to.

Shaak Ti slipped into the kitchenette area nonexistent in Blitz's quarters while he could only say, "You get a couch?"

"Help yourself," she replied, her voice trailing languidly into the room. "I can't recall using it. I wish the Kaminoans wouldn't dote on me; they know Jedi are used to minimal amenities, and yet they don't treat me like I am."

Blitz slowly approached the large, white piece of furniture like it was as dangerous as the felled Trident ships, experimentally reaching out a hand to press into one cushion. It was at least five times softer than his bed. Sitting on it, he might've sunk slower into the ocean. It was snugger than his bodysuit and impossible to believe that something this comfortable could be fabricated.

Shaak Ti gracefully swept into the room, a tall cup in each hand. She set his down on the low table in front of him, letting the steam idly rise while she sat on the other side of the couch, holding her cup to her face and inhaling everything. Somewhere in the kitchenette she had removed her robe and now sat in a sleeveless dark shirt, accentuating her red, toned arms. It was surprising how much her cloak hid a warrior's body.

Between his general and a life-changing couch, Blitz quickly realized he had no idea what to say. There had been no reason for him to accept her offer other than her presence inexplicably removed his distress. He barely even knew her that well— Commander Colt always interacted with Shaak Ti on matters of training the up-and-coming soldiers. But now was as good a time as any to get to know her, considering Blitz inherited that mantle as of today.

He racked his brain for something to say as she just sat there and sipped her drink. He wasn't made for socializing, after all, which he clearly proved as he said, "You... you have a nice couch, sir."

A chortle interrupted her mid-sip and a hand flew to her mouth reflexively. "Thank you, Blitz. I've never had company over until now and have lacked a chance to use it."

Blitz looked from his cup of tea to the rest of the room, taking in the amount of space— a luxury to any clone. "I didn't mean to intrude, general, I—"

"You're not intruding," she said sternly. Her hand that waved away his words fell on his own, bringing with it that earlier wave of calm, spreading right from her contact through the rest of his body. "I invited you here and you're my guest." Shaak Ti pulled away and Blitz almost reached out to take her hand back. Instead, halfway to her, he veered to pick up his drink and sat there, intently staring at the cup in both his hands.

"You fought well today, Commander Blitz. We proved to the Separatists that they cannot win on your home planet."

"Are all victories so costly?"

"Some."

He never envied Colt's command position— dealing with the Kaminoans on a daily basis, spouting inspiring speeches to the trainees, personally overseeing exercises— but now it all fell into his lap. The Kaminoans who worked closely with Rancor Battalion had already started congratulating Blitz earlier that day. They might as well have congratulated him on Colt and Havoc dying in order for him to successfully inherit this rank.

"Did you know him well?" Blitz suddenly asked, his gaze not leaving his drink. "Commander Colt, I mean."

"We worked together often, but he hardly talked about himself," replied Shaak Ti softly. "I wish we had more opportunities to get to know one another."

"Colt was the idealist in our group," Blitz found himself saying. It felt like he drifted on autopilot— his words flowed out of someplace other than his mind. "Off duty, he always talked about his dreams, the things he wanted to do after the war. The normal life he wanted to lead on Corellia, or Alderaan, or Balmorra. It was always changing."

He remembered each time Colt envisioned a new life as he spoke, but all memories eventually fell to the scene from earlier that day on the open bridge.

"...And now he can't."

When Colt had been in charge, Blitz comfortably followed his direction no matter the difficulties they faced in implementing training or tackling enemies on Kamino or elsewhere. Now he was left with a rage and an indignation that could blaze brighter than the combined fury of Tatooine's suns at a moment's notice. As the acceptance of what had happened to his brothers slowly started to sink in, Blitz was still unsure if this anger stemmed from losing his brothers or came with the rank.

His emotions immediately abated as Shaak Ti laid her hand on his left shoulder. Half a second later his right hand clamped down on hers, pinning it there and guaranteeing him an easier time of breathing.

Blitz's eyes drooped. Without all the high emotion and pain running through his body, he finally noticed his fatigue from the long day. He set his tea down on the table to slump back against the couch, relaxing in its soft embrace.

A sharp knock came from the door. Shaak Ti rose silently to answer it, and Blitz was already sinking into exhaustion too quickly to feel the emotions rushing back in.

Besides a "hello" or a "good afternoon," Blitz had never spoken to the resident Jedi general before. So when he woke up with a pounding headache, he figured it all must've been some sort of dream stemming from his realization that now he would be frequently interacting with all the bigwigs of Kamino.

He stood up, blearily taking in the familiar white everything that he had grown up with on this planet before limping into the 'fresher. The combined pain of his leg and his head was slowly sharpening with his senses. The shower helped him wake up enough to mentally run through all the tasks he would have to complete that day involving clean-up, and who he would have to communicate with. The most pleasant thought to cross his mind was imagining himself just staying like this in the 'fresher for the entirety of the day.

His headache had only slightly abated by the time he turned the shower off to find that there were no towels in the 'fresher. Grumbling, Blitz dried off with his red shirt because he could've sworn he returned his towel to the wall rack after he'd used it a day ago... or two days ago. How long had it been? A glance in the mirror above the sink reminded him enough time passed for him to grow an impressive amount of stubble.

But the sink was clear of any 'fresher utensils. Where was his razor? Trying to remember the normalcy of life before the attack on Tipoca only intensified his headache until he could hear the pounding, so when a knock sounded on the door to the cabin, Blitz wasn't quite sure if it was his headache or not.

No, it was definitely a knock. An impatient one at that. And it was probably Sten.

Still grumbling, Blitz pulled on his red bottoms, walked out the 'fresher door— and found a cloakless Shaak Ti had already answered it. He froze in place, the 'fresher door sliding closed behind him. She paused long enough to glance his way in surprise, and long enough for the Kaminoan she spoke with to incline its head inside the cabin to observe him as well.

Blitz's headache raged as his mind tried to hurdle the pain, searching for a logical answer. Why was Shaak Ti in his cabin? He glanced about the room to see an unfamiliar kitchenette and a white couch covered in a tossed-aside blanket.

He was in Shaak Ti's cabin.

"Yes, thank you, Nala Se," the general said with an incline of her montrals. "I will be there shortly." The Kaminoan eyed Shaak Ti's guest once again before gliding off down the hall, the door closing behind her.

Shaak Ti turned to him, offering a soft smile of pure amusement. "Good morning, Commander Blitz. How did you sleep?"

Blitz didn't sleep so much as he completely passed out. It was the best night he'd had in a long time if he forgot about the headache and the extreme awkwardness of now standing half-naked in his general's cabin. The nagging pain in his head drew a hand straight to his temple. "Er... ah, okay. I guess. Sorry, sir— didn't mean to, ah—" He was halfway turned around to reenter the 'fresher on the hunt for his shirt when something pleasantly cool pressed against his chest. He looked down to find a red hand stretched flat over his heart; her other hand reached up to cover his forehead with the same refreshing coolness.

"This will be a trying day for us all," she said calmly. Blitz barely registered it. "And you need to be at your best to perform your best."

With each throb, his headache dulled. The pain from his leg ebbed. He could breathe easier again. His hands lifted to grasp her red arms— enough comfort flowed in through her that the idea of collapsing against her seemed advantageous.

"Can I just take you with me... everywhere?" Blitz found himself saying. It came out in a reverent sigh.

This was helping far better than any medicine the GAR ever issued. He opened his eyes at her quiet laughter.

The shocking whiteness of the room brought out her colors more than Blitz had ever noticed, hidden as he usually was behind his visor. And as of last night seeing her without her customary Jedi robe for the first time banished all the preconceived notions of matronly from his mind when he realized what her body actually looked like. His eyes fell to her white lips and a slightly more intimate form of thanks snuck into his imagination.

Blitz wasn't aware he was even moving until Shaak Ti's hand slipped from his forehead to softly touch his mouth, halting all progress.

Her expression remained as placid as ever. "We should go. We have much to do." Nothing but understanding and the slightest trace of amusement blended in her gaze. As much as her apparent passivity irked him from time to time, it was the most gracious response in the galaxy at that moment.

To the delight of his newfound insubordinate attitude, the kiss he left on her fingertips jolted her into the first stunned expression he'd ever seen her wear. He collected his shirt from the 'fresher floor and ducked out of Shaak Ti's cabin in the fastest escape Blitz could recall executing.

Headache gone and leg not even experiencing a twinge, Blitz only limped now from muscle memory rather than necessity. Even if his leg had been hurting, he probably wouldn't have felt it over his mind running circles around the memory of what he'd just done in his general's cabin. On the one hand, he was getting very friendly with his chain of command, on the other, he might've overstepped a boundary or two. Blitz wasn't entirely sure where this ability and interest in shirking protocol came from, but hopefully shouldering this new command position would temper him quickly.

His wet shirt clung to him uncomfortably; he pulled and repositioned it the entire time it took him to hustle back to his own cabin. Inside, he found his armor stacked next to his bed— not to regulation, but in his habitual way— and Sten in full kit sitting on Havoc's old bed.

"There you are!" he cried, bouncing to his feet. "Where the kriff've you been? They've been looking for you for almost an hour!"

Glorious responsibilities.

Falling right back into the grumbling from Shaak Ti's cabin, Blitz started changing into his bodysuit right there. Shaving would apparently have to wait; at least he wasn't expected to take off his helmet the duration of the time about the city.

"But seriously, vod, where've you been? You were gone all karkin' night."

Blitz paused to look back, half of one set of leg armor donned. "What, checkin' up on me?" A glance to Havoc's side of the room showed a new red uniform tossed over a bed that was a little more rumpled than last night— and not just from Sten sitting on it. "Did you sleep here last night?" He pointed to the far wall. "You've got your own room, y'know."

Sten's dual pauldron fluttered in a half-hearted shrug. "It's... weird... without a roommate anymore. I didn't want to be alone so around midnight or so I came over here. Where'd you hide out all night?"

Blitz returned to sliding on his armor. There was no way of explaining his story without it sounding completely inappropriate. And with the GAR-renowned rumor mill, anything even possibly scandalous could be turned into world-shatteringly outrageous in just under an hour.

"I just needed to get out for a bit. Not making a habit of it." Thank the Force for buckets, though; the next time he had to face his general he'd be well hidden.

Sten's hand landed on the yellow half of Blitz's pauldron moments after slipping it on. "Hey." His filtered voice sounded as gruff as Blitz felt yesterday in those odd moments of petulance. "You're not the only one who misses them. They were my brothers, too."

Blitz nodded slowly, only able to look at the helmet in his hands. With a steeling breath, he pulled the yellow-striped bucket over his head and took in all the information scrolling along his HUD. Clean up was once again in full swing and, predictably, everything was falling apart at the seams without central leadership present. His glance jerked up to the top of the wall locker to find the two helmets just as he left them last night staring blankly out into the room.

Blitz turned back to Sten and smacked him on the back. "Welcome to the room, vod."

終わり

A.N. Song: "Disappear" by Hoobastank.

Sten is 25% OC. There was already a nameless surviving red ARC trooper in Rancor Battalion... I just gave him a name. (That counts for 25%, right?) This chapter has been beta-approved by Starcrier.

On a scale from 1 to Sputnik, how sailable is this ship?