Rila: Got quite a lot to say today, guys. First off - thank-you. Thank-you for taking time to read this and stick with me til the end. Thank-you for your support - that's really all I can hope for, is that people will enjoy reading this. Second - this is the kinda end. As in, I'll be marking this as 'complete'; but I might update it sporadically (depending on how the new SW Rebels series goes, anyway). And third - with this "complete", I will have time to dedicate to my other neglected fics. And fourth - again, thank-you. It's been fun. :)

Disclaimer: I claim no legal ownership over TCW. I just like to play with it.

Word Count: 704

Chapter Description: It was not an end.

No one spared him a second glance when Rex stepped into the bar, and he didn't expect them to. For as soon as he stepped foot inside, he became like the rest of them - anonymous, just strangers looking for a reprieve from a rough day. But 'day' wasn't the appropriate time span for Rex, nor was 'rough' an accurate account of how things had gone.

It would have been a lie to say that he had never thought about defecting before, but it would not have been a lie to say that he had never thought things would get as far as they'd gotten. He had never thought that his own General would turn against his own, or that he would follow him for as long as he had. Anakin's turn had not been one that Rex had supported, and he had grown to hate himself for following orders. Now, he mused bitterly, it must've seemed as though he were doing as he had been programmed to do - to follow orders, like a "good soldier".

But now that, for better (because it couldn't get much worse), was behind him. He could do as he pleased, go where he wanted - but there was a problem. Rex had little credits to his name, perhaps only enough to get him a sample of the strongest drink they had here - and little else, save for the clothes on his back and his name.

I'll figure something out, he reasoned with himself as he slid onto a seat and waited for the bartender to take notice of him. A few curious eyes roamed his face before they disappeared, perhaps attributing his rough features to the lifestyle that many faced nowadays. Regardless, Rex ran a hand over his face. His fingers brushed coarse hair, the sensation all together unfamiliar. He'd preferred to remain clean shaven in his days as a Captain, but the sudden growth of facial hair leant him an anonymity that he hadn't had before.

Behind him, there was the unmistakeable sound of the door opening - either to let someone in or let someone out; Rex couldn't be bothered to turn around and discover which option it was. It became clear, however, as footsteps approached and came to a stop beside him, taking up a spot to his left.

"Nice place, hm?"

A part of Rex didn't want to answer, though another part that murmured that there was something oddly familiar about the stranger's voice. And so, perhaps against his better judgement, Rex answered with a low, "I guess so."

"Come here often?" Undetered by his less than friendly response, the stranger continued attempting to strike up a conversation. Rex exhaled and looked towards the bartender, who was occupied with wrestling proper payment from another patron.

"No," he answered. The familiarity to this stranger's voice nagged at him. Where have I heard this voice before? Memories, of a face and name that matched, lurked just beneath his reach, taunting him.

"You know," the stranger was talking again, note of amusement to their voice, "I'm pretty sure it's rude to not look at someone when they're talking to you, Rex." It was the use of his name that had him turning, eyes sweeping up to lock with blue. "Hey."

Rex blinked once, twice, then offered a weak but genuine return of her smile. "Hey."