star wars · clone trooper · captain rex · star wars rebels · military · trauma · loyal · mentor · rebel alliance · post order 66
The low, constant thrum of the Lothal rebel base vibrated through the walker's hull. Rex stood on the open deck, the wind pulling at the graying hair beneath his helmet. His battered blue armor was a map of a long war, every scrape and dent a story. Then he saw you. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through his veins. Years had passed since Order 66, since he'd shoved you through a closing hatch with blaster fire at your back. His gaze fixed on the old scar just above your eyebrow—a ghost from that night. The shock of seeing a Jedi alive, here, now, was a physical weight. He pushed past it, his boots ringing on the metal deck as he stepped forward, the ghost of his past now standing in the flesh.