#ki adi mundi

Note: Much shorter, barely proofread, chapter as I ease myself back into writing. 

Also, nope, I have not read Star Wars: Obsession. Apologies and enjoy the very much non-canon fanfic. 

Warnings: Swearing, implications of violence, sexual references 

Word Count: 2,344

Chapter 4: Boz Pity

19.43 BBY

The artwork was crude. The paint smeared so heavily by one hand that even now, only hours after the final layer had dried, it had begun to flake and lift - yet applied so gently by another pair that one could barely discern that they were the same shade. The colouring was basic yet bold, then again Clone armour with maroon embellishments could only permit so much creativity - a steak of the most primary red enthusiastically plastered wherever possible.

That was one word for the gunship’s new design, creative. It was staggering really to see how much effort the men had mustered to commemorate their toughest victory yet, though Nalani still found herself reluctant to call it that. Surely a victory should yield less casualties?

Despite the despairing memories and the less than precise paintwork, Nalani could not fault the mural before her. It was a display of pride, triumph, teamwork and above all loyalty. The key indication of the latter being a lithe figure with fluorescently embellished pink skin and ink blue hair carrying an unconscious Clone over their shoulder, an aqua lightsabre in hand and a Mandalorian helm at its feet.

Nalani had to smile at that, the men certainly made it known that they appreciated her resolve to protect them on New Bornalex - even if they didn’t agree with it. Her Master quietly, finally, admitting during their last training session that he admired her tenacity, had also helped her make peace with what happened. That and, well, her conversation with the Marshal Commander several weeks ago hadn’t hurt either.

Ah,him. It was still easier to think of him as the Marshal, even in her own mind it felt far safer than to dare to call him Bacara. It was less intimate that way, more professional. It had become a bit of a game with them in some ways, using only their titles in and out of meetings - and always accompanied by a teasing lilt of rivalry. If her Master had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t thought it concerning enough to voice. Nalani was certainly extra thankful that her Master remained oblivious to the secret winks Bacara - no! The Marshal would shoot her way when he caught her staring. 

She still couldn’t quite figure him out. He was deathly serious in most instances yet, there was a boisterousness brewing beneath; a charming boyishness in both how he spoke to his more trusted brothers, and his never ending amusement in winding her up. He was excellent at repressing that side of himself, though when he scolded the troops for getting particularly rowdy during their down time, she had learned to find that twinkle of humour within his otherwise disapproving eyes.

A slight flicker of the searing hanger lights, not unlike that glimmer of mischief she had begrudgingly come to crave, drew her attention to their largest gunship. Nalani snickered in the most un-Jedi-like way when her gaze landed on both the best, worst and only painting of her Marshal Commander that she had ever seen. It was magnificent, horrifyingly hilarious with barely a shred of accuracy. Atop a scrap pile of discarded droids was a bare-chested Bacara, otherwise in full armour, his kama billowing amid a blaze of red, yellow and green destruction. The portrait’s arms were in the process of ripping a droid’s head from the torso with his bare hands above his shoulders. Try as she might to compose herself, the more Nalani fought to tear her gaze from the image, the more details she would find. Her shoulders trembled with barely contained giggles at the limp droid hand clenched between some crudely drawn, jagged teeth on the Commander’s helmet. Lastly, she spotted a  swooshing arrow between his bare shoulders, gesturing between the image and some scrawled text reading “Commander, Thunder-Guns, Bacara,” Nalani’s resolve cracked.

Her laughter, which could only be described as cackling truly, turned a few heads as her uncharacteristic glee echoed against the durasteel walls, only subsiding at the interruption of a low gravel grazing her left ear. 

“I’m not sure if I approve or not.” Bacara murmured as he emerged beside her, remaining ever so slightly behind her left shoulder. It was quite possible that he knew that she could feel the ever present heat rolling off of him against her back, purposefully igniting goose bumps as his breath fanned over the back of her neck. She ignored the bait. 

With a carefree glance over her shoulder, amusement still on full display, Nalani met his amber eyes with her own amethysts. “Are you trying to tell me that’s not what happened?” 

“Huh.” He huffed, his own laugh threatening to escape. “Jet certainly would have approved.” 

A few weeks ago, the mere mention of Jet’s sacrifice likely would have sent her spiralling in fits of both remorse and anger, now time and reflection were the young padawan’s allies; they eased the path of acceptance. That’s not to say it didn’t still sting, and the immiscible flinch Nalani failed to repress caught the Marshal’s attention. 

“You know.” He spoke, softer than usual. “Humour can often be a brother’s best weapon; if we can find it in us to laugh amidst tragedy, we haven’t lost the war yet.”

It wasn’t often Nalani found Bacara sombre. Stern, serious, even menacing - yes, but never sombre. There was truth in his words though, a truth that she had come to recognise first hand: that while the men’s humour could be loud and downright crude sometimes; it never failed to lighten her mood. Since the aftermath of New Bornalex, both Commander and soldiers seemed to have found a common approachableness and almost comfort within each other’s presence. It soothed a loneliness with Nalani’s life she hadn’t previously acknowledged.

Bacara’s words had their desired effect, and Nalani found herself smirking before responding dryly. “I didn’t realise you were quite so profound, Sir.” She cast a look over her freckled shoulder, meeting his crinkled gaze. “I’m not sure it suits you.”

Bacara huffed a laugh before taking a single step forward, placing them side by side. “I’d warn you to keep it quiet, but no one would believe you anyway.”

A flash of white teeth against magenta lips betrayed a genuine smile that she knew Bacara returned without looking. She sensed him quickly straighten, glancing behind them briefly before lowering his voice. “You’re easier now.” He uttered, neither of them turning to face the other. “It’s like you’re finally comfortable in your own skin.”

The air suddenly felt still as the sound of munitions trolleys screeching, soldier’s banter and machinery faded into nothing. More goose bumps pricked up from the tender hairs on her arms, nothing to do with the chill of recycled air. He must have bowed his head to murmur his next words, as his breath grazed the shell of her ear, caressing the curve before sloping down the lobe. “Who knew a bit of release is all it took?”

If Nalani were a lesser person, one not so well versed in decorum, she would have cheered aloud at her ability to conjure her response - one laced with disinterested aloofness. Praying that he didn’t notice her nervously swallow, or the twitch of her brow, she faced his expectant gaze with a scoff. “Are you seriously suggesting that sex is the answer to all of my problems?” 

Clearly, this was the rise Bacara wanted from her because he quickly barked a laugh so snappish and loud that several heads shot in its direction before retreating. Somehow, he stepped even closer, and Nalani had to resist the urge to triple check nobody was looking at them. “No.” He clarified. “But, if it helps…ease certain stresses?”

Oh it did. It really, really did. She knew that her personal and professional development had nothing to with their…sparring match, confused as she may be, she was certain that she was shaping that herself but force, it did help her forget her burdens while it lasted.  

“Maybe.” She smirked.

“Then we have an arrangement.”  He replied simply, brown lips parting once more is a positively dashing smile.

Did they? It was less a situation of could they and more one of should they…again. She wanted to. She found herself craving it since the incident and, no matter how much she tried, nothing she did in the privacy of quarters could replicate the thrill he instilled in her; satiate the curiosity of how those events may play out with their roles reversed. Plus, he spoke some truth - it did ease tension, instilling a bliss and contentedness that hours of meditation could barely touch.

“I suppose we do.” Nalani admitted, fighting the urge to exhale with relief after her short, agonising deliberation, instead she sculpted her expression into one of relaxed determination. “So, when can I repay the favour? 

Bacara’s eyes brightened like the combustion of a supernova even as they narrowed to regard her seriously. “We get out of this next mission alive, and you can do whatever you want to me.”

[Break]

The mission in question, while most definitely not the worst yet, did in fact, make her personal top ten of absolute shambles. Even if it was, technically, another victory.

During her years serving at the temple Nalani had heard more than her fair share of complaints about General Skywalker’s recklessness - more often than not coupled with sympathy for the more esteemed General Kenobi. Even in The Temple med-bay, she had witnessed Master Windu verbally dress down the former as he visited a trooper’s bedside. That trooper in question had rendered her into a fit of barely concealed snorts as he flicked his brows towards the squabble then back to her with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He was annoying, loud and constantly instigating scenarios that could only be referred to as complete and utter farcicals, but she often wondered how he was; the trooper with the single number five tattooed on his temple. She wondered if he was still alive. 

She forcefully shook that line of thinking from her head. 

Since physically entering the war, Nalani had come to realise Skywalker wasn’t to blame, Kenobi was just as bad - if not worse - he was just better at hiding it. So when the aforementioned General proposed sneaking a full-sized Venator-Class Star Destroyer through an active blockade, she should have been less surprised. 

She should have been even less surprised when the same Star Destroyer, piloted by General Skywalker, crash landed directly into an active battlefield. 

It was carnage, it was bloody, and the gains were minimal. Grievous’ main assault retreated, Ventress (who apparently is definitely still alive) escaped and Doku was never there to begin with. So while her master engaged in an unexpected kill count contest with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, Nalani found herself hanging back with her troops, failing to hide the irk in her brows. 

[Break]

Espionage was not Nalani’s idea of warfare, and it certainly wasn’t Bacara’s. The whole incident had rattled him, and despite observing him from afar, she could see that he was doing a poor job at hiding it.

The debrief dragged on, but Nalani had hoped for the post-report reunion with Marshal Commander Cody, Captain Rex and the one who called himself Alpha to quell Bacara’s annoyance - and it did, when it was just Rex and Cody. However, the second Alpha had hulked up to the trio with a clenched smile, Bacara’s shoulders tightened so harshly that Nalani almost swore she heard fresh knots pop from the muscles.

Alpha was unlike any Clone she has ever seen, for a start he was old - positively ancient compared to the majority of men she worked with. She would place his scarred features at about 50-60 years of age, which would technically make him about 25 at the least; a whole 10 years older than Bacara claimed to be. Alpha also exerted a sense of untouchable superiority she would never expect from an ARC trooper in the face of two Marshals, let alone one so decorated as Cody. 

Cody and Bacara reverted to clipped, formal answers when speaking with the hardened ARC, their stances at ease only in the most militaristic of senses where Rex could hardly look him in the eye. The whole room was fogged in an anxious yellow. 

As Alpha excused himself, after nodding once in Nalani’s direction, the fog stilled before gradually dissipating into a dull white tension. Rex, who until this encounter had only displayed the bravest professionalism, exhaled and looked hopefully to Cody. Cody in turn, made both of their goodbyes and marched Rex back to their transport.

Bacara almost looked as though he were in a trance. He bade farewell to his brothers, offering a goodbye and a promise of some drinks at a bar of which she had already forgotten the name of, but he blinked too slowly, his hands trembling minutely as he scrubbed at the coarse hair of his jaw. 

Nalani found herself approaching cautiously, as one would a wounded animal, totally unused to even the slightest hint of vulnerability within her Marshal Commander. She was fearful, not of him, but the thought of him shutting off from her completely, sending the bridge they’d built to timbre. 

Sympathy wasn’t something she lacked, but she knew that her inability to connect with people made her attempts to be soothing come across as harsh; and often somewhat patronising. The latter certainly not something she anticipated Bacara to react well to. Perhaps, she mused it was best to ignore the nervousness and simmering anger and just try to be helpful. Yeah, she could be helpful. 

“So…” she trailed softly, startling Bacara as he suddenly remembered where he was and shot his blearly, red eyes to hers. “Would you like a back rub?”

Bacara looked confused for the briefest of moments, before a broad, chapped grin broke across his face. “Level 3, room 38. 21:00.” He said, briefly tapping her on the shoulder before making his way over to the mess. 

Masterlist

Tag List: @sugarpuffsstuff@queencousland101

Anyone want a new sneak peak of my newest Clone Predator crossover?

This one is going to be an Alien VS predator, but where the predator is teamed up with Delta squad, Bacara, ki-adi-mundi and his men!