Chapter Text
Rex wakes to the feeling of his head being smashed in. His skin is on fire, or maybe his muscles have been dipped in acid. His ribs and the blaster wounds are their own symphony of agony, and he wishes he doesn’t feel like he’s been shot and thrown off the Geonosian wall all over again.
Little One, the Ocean reverberates through his head like shrapnel in space; jagged and forceful as it punches its way through. Desperately, Rex tries to think of the shielding methods the Kaminoans taught them, but its like building a wall with over-wet mud. Nothing sticks together and all he does is make himself even more miserable and uncomfortable.
Foolishly, Rex attempts opening his eyes to get a sense of his surroundings. The bright fluorescent lights of the Med Bay immediately drill straight through his eyes to the epicenter of his headache. With a garbled curse, Rex squeezes his eyes shut, but now that he knows the light is there he can feel it burning through his eyelids.
Rex doesn’t think he has ever felt worse than this. Even after the Blue Shadow Virus when he regularly couldn’t breathe and was weak and feverish, or Saleucami where he fought Commando Droids with a mostly-raw blaster wound through his chest. Heck, he’d even take the frozen wasteland of Orto Plutonia again if it meant never feeling this horribly hot pain.
Little One, the Ocean presses again. It sounds simultaneously annoyed and concerned, if that is possible.
“Go ‘way” Rex grumbles. He is not in the mood to be possessed at the moment.
“Ah, sir?” Footsteps echo far too loud across the durasteel of the Med Bay floor, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of concern. Apparently, his movement has summoned a wild worried Kix. Great, just great. “Are you awake?”
“No.” If he’s awake, Kix is going to want to examine him. If he opens his eyes again, Rex might throw up.
“I’m glad you’re awake, sir. Now we can change out your bandages and do a quick check up.” The medic never fails to disappoint him. “Would you mind opening your eyes?”
“I do mind actually,” Rex murmurs to himself.
“What was that sir?” Instead of replying, Rex decides to risk it all. On a mental count of three, he forces both eyelids open, immediately flinching at the sharp pain ringing through his skull. With a curse, his eyes slam back shut. It’s okay, Little One, you are safe here, the Ocean unhelpfully tells him.
‘That wasn’t my concern’ Rex finally snarks back.
“Do you have a headache, sir?” The Captain doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved that Kix is finally catching on. All the same, he manages a small nod in affirmation.
“I would give you something for the headache, sir, but I want to get an idea of your current pain levels so I know what dosage you need. But, for now, the lights are as dim as they go. Can you try again?” The only thing Rex wants to try again is going back to sleep, preferably in his own quarters where it's actually dark and quiet, and he can heal without being constantly prodded and observed.
When Rex doesn’t respond or try again, Kix’s worry immediately spikes. Rex winces at the now constant stream of thoughts he can practically hear. I don’t know what’s wrong with him I don’t know how to help him what good is my karking training if I always end up in situations so far over my kriffing head where are the karking Jettise when I need them I swear I was not engineered for this much osik I really hope I’m not making things worse I need him to listen because otherwise he’ll hurt himself but something has changed in him that I don’t understand and I—I—I—how do I—?
Rex opens his eyes, slowly this time, and the thoughts boring into his skull retreat to a quiet mumble instead. The light in the room is still overwhelmingly bright and thick, but Kix is a bonfire amidst the rest of the light. Rex is starting to think that having his head split open would actually be far less painful. He doesn’t think he has been in this much pain since he was a cadet on Kamino—
He watches the blue surge through the brown like a rising tide, washing over his irises before retreating. With each flash of blue, young Rex finds the strength to grab one more handhold, to keep them suspended above the churning waves—
Rex recoils hard, head bursting at the memory dream the Ocean planted in his head. This thing possessing him is entrenched deep into his mind; it has full access to his memories—who was to say it hadn’t twisted a few to confuse him and trick him into accepting its presence? The Ocean roars with indignation. I am one with you, you are with me. You are MINE.
The sound of glass breaking pulls Rex out of his own head. This time, the room is less bright, not immediately attacking all of his senses. Kix’s eyes are slightly wide, holding a cup of water that has a crack straight down the middle. Fear and resolve are at war on the medic’s face. Strangely, Rex gets the sense that the medic is both afraid for him and of him. Why Kix would be afraid of him, Rex doesn’t want to know.
With a calm betrayed only by the slightest tremble of his fingers, Kix sets the glass down. Immediately, the cup falls over in two perfect halves, water dripping onto the floor. “Sir,” Kix begins, “I am going to check over your physical injuries, and then I am going to call the General down for the rest.”
Rex frowns. “Is that really necessary Kix?”
“I believe so, sir. Now, try to remain calm.” The medic goes through his examination quickly and efficiently, switching out bandages and bacta patches, asking about pain levels and comfortable range of mobility. Rex frowns at the use of bacta patches. Why would they use the patches when Kix clearly said Rex had needed a tank? Before he can ask, Kix cruelly prods at the Captain’s ribs. Immediately, tongues of fire sweep up his side. Rex curses using some of the General’s favorite vocabulary words and pushes Kix away to guard his side from any more unwanted attention. Through blurry eyes, he can see the dark blooming bruises painted across his skin from his chest to his shoulder. Under his fingers, he can feel his ribs shift slightly, sending bright sparks of white pain across his vision.
As his vision settles, dread finds a home in the pit of Rex’s stomach.
His fingernails are blue. Every single one of them, unnaturally blue. It was bad enough the the Ocean turned his eyes blue, but now his fingernails? Does this mean the rest of his body is being taken over? Is the Ocean winning? Is Rex dying?
Peace, Little One, the Ocean tells him patiently. No, Rex will not have peace. What’s going to turn blue next, his karking skin?
“Captain, calm down!” Kix warns. How can the medic tell him to calm down when his whole body is being turned into a puppet for some cosmic being? Rex reserves the right to be anything but calm in this karked up situation. He can feel his heartbeat pounding far too fast in his chest, twisting and twinging painfully as he tries to breathe. But air isn’t being drawn into his chest anymore and—oh Maker, the Ocean is trying to kill him now that he knows what it’s planning to do. He feels a spark of indignation at the back of his head as the Ocean denies wanting to kill him, but that’s what the Ocean wants Rex to think. The second he puts his guard down he’s going to lose any control over his own body.
The dreams, the calming voice, the endearing name of Little One, like he was something precious, it was all a ploy for Rex to let his guard down. To surrender willingly and stupidly.
“Captain, I need you to focus!” Distantly, Rex can feel Kix’s hands on his wrists again, the medic pinning him down with his own body. “I need you to breathe Rex. Follow my lead: In. Hold. Out. Come on, I know you can do it. In. Hold. Out.”
“Kix, I-I can’t.” Rex gasps like a drowning man, but his body is on fire and the Ocean is trying to choke him. “T-the Ocean!”
“You’re not there anymore, Captain. You can breathe, I promise. You just need to calm down. You are in the Med Bay on The Resolute—“
“I know where I am!” Rex snaps. “Kix listen—I need you to listen!”
Calm down, Little One, the Ocean is pulling at his awareness. Rex needs to warn the medic, before it’s too late.
“T-the o-Ocean it’s—it’s inside me Kix. It won’t—won’t leave me. It’s trying…trying to—-ngh,” Rex wrenches himself away from the hypo Kix was about to jab into his neck. “No! You aren’t listening! I can’t— I can’t go back! It sends me dreams and I can’t—” To his shock and horror, Kix still manages to jab the hypo into his neck. Betrayal burns through him just as sharply as the pain in his ribs. As the edges of his vision blacken and swirl, Rex can hear Kix’s voice still perched above his head.
“General Skywalker, this is Kix. I need your assistance in the Med Bay.”
Rex is cold. He is drifting through the waves again. The Ocean is humming a gentle song. It feels like how Rex would expect a mother to be. He is not fooled.
Rest, Little One, the Ocean whispers. You have been fighting too hard for too long. He feels heavy, exhaustion lapping at his mind in waves. This is how he dies.
A fond chuckle echoes through the nothingness of the Empty Sea. You are too stubborn for your own good. I have chosen well.
‘I’m not yours. You can’t have me!’ Rex tells the Ocean. ‘Choose someone else!’
A memory ebbs up in his vision. A defeated-looking Rex is in his room, sitting and staring numbly at a wall, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. The daily Remembrance slips through the Captain’s lips, lingering on every single brother he has lost. As he works through the ever growing list of names, Rex realizes exactly when this was.
“Sergeant O’Niner…Hevy.” There have been more names since this, but nothing quite adds to one of his greatest regrets. Hevy’s death always felt more personal, because Rex just handed him the broken detonator and left. The Domino twins only had each other now, because Rex didn’t make sure Hevy had followed them. Because Rex had to be first, and didn’t even make sure the job got done.
‘Why are you showing me this?’ Rex feels unbearable rage breaking through the heavy numbness of this memory. For something that claims it’s trying to comfort him, the Ocean does a karking terrible job, only bringing up memories that hurt, and twisting them out of shape. The Rex on the bed is aching with grief, has all but driven himself mad with regret, when something like comfort reaches over to run hands through his hair. Another pair of ghostly touches runs fingers down his spine, while yet another rubs his arm and shoulder. Rex curls around a pillow that feels like a lap, and the back of someone’s head is at his stomach. All in all, five bodies offer support and comfort, lulling Rex to a pitiful sleep.
Slowly, the ghostly shapes around him take form, and Rex recognizes the paint. Back when he was first put in Command of Torrent, this was his first squad. They had all died during the Battle of Aranata because Rex had been young and stupid and trying to prove himself to his new General. They are the first names on his lips when he says Remembrances, and they are the beginning of a long list of regret.
Midas.
Seconds.
Leo.
Bait.
Switch.
He had been the youngest out of them, and there was some early tension because of it. Because how dare the General put a young, mutie shiny in charge of more experienced brothers? Even if he had been trained with the CCs and honorably earned his Jaig Eyes after the First Battle of Geonosis, Rex had a lot to learn about commanding brothers and leading men. They had died protecting him after he had gotten too close to an exploding tank, and Rex always secretly believed that they went to the Maker’s lands hating him. He prayed for them all the same. Kept them close. Wondered if they knew his guilt and regret. Wondered if it would matter if they did.
They are always with you, Little One. They know who you have become. They are proud of you.
‘Don’t tell me that,’ Rex whispered. Sorrow and rage twisted in his stomach. ‘Don’t lie to me! How dare you twist my memories against me? How dare you use my brothers against me!’
The Ocean tries to send a soothing wave through his mind, but Rex bats it aside angrily. ‘I’ve had enough! I will not be your chosen one, I will not let you use me against my brothers, or my brothers against me!’
Little One, the Ocean hesitates, pulling back even. Like a tsunami, Rex can feel its resolve building, getting ready to crush and overpower.
‘I am not your Little One!’ The empty sea is turbulent now, responding to the Captain’s rage, to the undercurrent of grief that wants to pull him away from the sun. Rex is close to losing himself again, his mind unraveling. The Captain fights the current with everything he has, but it is like he has turned against himself. The Empty Sea is cold. Heavy. Limitless. He has lost the need to breathe. His body is gone, and all he knows is this sea. He is one with this Force, with this Ocean that thrums through his veins.
He has lost.
“Captain. Captain. Are you with me? Captain?” The General’s voice is somewhere above his head. Out of everything that could have happened, waking in his own body was the last thing Rex expected. He had thought he would be caged in the Sea forever, trapped in some corner of his mind. He had even expected never waking up at all.
As his body awakens to pain, Rex doesn’t think he has ever loved hurting this much before. His mind feels shredded to pieces, and his ribs ache and throb fiercely in a way that tells him they have been reset. The blaster wounds are their own epicenter of stabbing and burning, pulsing in concert with his heartbeat. Rex has never felt more alive.
As his eyes flutter open to the blurry face of the General, Rex is struck by deja vu so strong it hurts. The Battle of Aranata is a fresh wound over an old scar in his heart. Skywalker must see the grief lingering on his face, though thankfully he doesn’t say anything. Instead, the General looks over his shoulder for something.
“Kix, your patient is awake,” The General turns and takes three strides towards the doors before the medic stops him.
“Sir, if you could stay a little longer?” Kix drills the General with a meaningful Look. They seem to be having a conversation without words. Rex would be more concerned if he was’t so kriffing exhausted. Reluctantly, Skywalker agrees, and takes a seat nearby. The way he’s fidgeting with his prosthetic hand tells the Captain that the General is nervous. Avoiding something, even.
As Kix approaches, Rex tries not to react. The medic sedated him against his explicit wishes, and the betrayal still hurts. Who knows what would have happened if the General didn’t pull him out of the Empty Sea? It turned out fine this time, but Rex almost lost himself, and the medic put him in a situation where he was helpless.
“Please stop looking at me like that sir. You were having a panic attack and I couldn’t calm you down. That kind of stress is too hard on your body right now.” Kix doesn’t even realize what he almost did. There is no regret in the medic’s gaze. Instead, he’s looking at the Captain like Rex is the errant shiny who got caught skipping morning training. Or hiding an injury. And he knows he was panicking when Kix sedated him, but the medic wasn’t listening, and at a time where Rex needed control more than anything else, Kix took that from him.
“I told you not to,” Rex growls. Everything he can’t say is behind those five words.
“You were about to pass out anyway,” Kix counters. Rex wishes he could figure out what is going through the medic’s mind right now, or at the very least shove some understanding into his head, because Kix is still not listening, when he’s almost always listened before. Rex doesn’t know when Kix got this ‘this is for your own good but I’m not going to tell you why yet’ attitude, but he does not appreciate it. Hates that he’s being kept in the dark about his own medical condition. If it’s the fact that he’s been possessed by an ancient Ocean, Rex already knows. The Voice in his head won’t let him forget.
When the medic reaches for his wrist, Rex cannot hold back his flinch. A hurt look flickers over the medic’s face, and Rex pretends not to feel guilt. The General uncomfortably squirms in his chair.
After a moment of hard staring, Kix’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry sir. I know you didn’t want me to, but you were a danger to yourself and others. I didn’t have much of a choice.” Rex is still hurt, angry, and confused, but he lets himself relax as well. Deep down, he knows the medic is only trying to do his job. Hesitantly, Kix reaches out for the Captain’s wrist again. This time, Rex lets him.
His fingernails are still blue. Rex breathes in a little too sharply.
“What! What’s wrong?” Kix traces his line of sight and sees the blue fingernails. “Di’kutla Jetti! When did she even—?” Kix hisses. “Captain, it’s just paint! See?” Kix holds out his own hands, showing Rex two blue nails.
“B-but, I-I thought—I” ‘I thought it was a sign I was losing myself.’ Rex looks at his fingernails in wonder and not a slight amount of embarrassment. He can’t believe he panicked over a karking paint job. Kix watches him carefully, a slightly amused, mostly strained smile on his face. The rest of the check up is strictly professional, with Kix muttering medical nothings to himself, and asking the occasional question, which Rex answers as concisely as possible.
He’s never missed Kix’s half-resigned-borderline-insubordinate snark before. The tension in the room is painful without it.
“Your ribs had to be reset while you were unconscious, Captain, but otherwise you seem to be healing alright, if slower than normal,” Rex tries very hard not to frown at that. He fails. Kix looks uncomfortable.
“This is just a normal painkiller, if you want it. It shouldn’t cause any drowsiness at all,” Kix offers. It’s the closest thing to an apology the medic will ever give. After a moment, Rex nods his head, and the medic slowly and carefully administers the hypo.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you both to it. General, Captain,” Kix announces, before striding out of the Med Bay doors a little too fast to be relaxed. Rex watches the medic retreat, confusion prickling at his chest. It doesn’t take too long for Rex to decide he’s too tired to care about Kix’s strange behavior. Besides, he has a bigger problem to worry about at the moment.
Skywalker is looking anywhere but at Rex, though his favorite point of interest seems to be his prosthetic hand. Rex hasn’t seen the General act this nervous since his last mission with Senator Amidala. Rex has no idea how they keep their marriage “secret” when they can't stop sending sickeningly sweet looks at each other. Or the fact that the General melts at the mere mention of his wife. After a few minutes of awkward silence, the General finally pulls himself together and drags his hands over his face.
“Look, Rex, I’m just going to say it. I know. I’ve known for awhile, actually.” What? Know what? When Rex doesn’t visibly react, the General seems to gain confidence, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. “You don’t have to try to hide it from me anymore.”
“Hide…what sir?” Rex racks his brain for any secrets he has been hiding from the General, only to come up empty.
Skywalker is smirking his signature conspiratorial smirk now, like they are sharing this great secret that only the two of them know. Rex would love to be enlightened. “You know. Your secret. I want to help. I’m already shaping up to be a great teacher, just look at Ahsoka!” Rex doesn’t think the General realizes that his claim of being a good teacher is not the shining endorsement he thinks it is when the Captain has absolutely no karking clue why Skywalker is offering to train him in the first place. The General is teaching Ahsoka to be a Jetti, which has nothing to do with Rex other than the fact that they are fighting a war together. Besides, Rex is the one teaching Ahsoka different combat forms.
“Sir, what does that have to do with me?”
“What do you mean what does this have to do with you? It’s your gift.” The General looks a little like a kicked Loth-puppy. “Don’t you want me to train you? Show you how to use it?”
Rex is so, so lost. This has got to be the strangest conversation he has ever had with the General. Usually they are on the same page, and now they don’t even seem to be in the same half of the Known Universe. Maybe Commander Bacara and the 21st Nova Core can find Skywalker’s train of thought. “Respectfully sir, I don’t know what you mean.”
Skywalker groans in frustration. Rex thankfully manages to hide his flinch. “Come on Rex, I promise you aren’t in trouble or anything.” Now the secret is something that can get Rex in trouble?! What does the General think Rex was trying to hide?
Rex senses that the General is growing annoyed, so he wants to get to the bottom of this before Skywalker gets genuinely upset with him. “Sir, permission to speak freely?” Skywalker brightens at the request. Rex takes that as the right move towards victory.
“Of course you have it, Rex.”
Rex takes a deep breath, and lays it out: “I have absolutely no karking clue what “secret” you think I’m hiding that you know about, so would you care to enlighten me, Sir?”
Skywalker gapes at him for a long minute, shock and confusion prominent over his facial features. Rex wonders for a moment if he was a little too harsh. But if Rex is potentially going to be in trouble for this, he needs to know.
“I—Rex—I mean, you—you really don’t know?”
“Know what sir?” This time, Rex can’t keep the frustration out of his voice.
Skywalker is evaluating him with new eyes now, and it makes Rex’s skin itch. After a few more minutes of quiet scrutiny, the General nods to himself, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. Rex braces himself.
“Rex, I would like to train you to become a Jedi.”