Chapter Text
The first thing Coll sees when he pries his eyes open is the heart rate monitor blinking beside his bed. He squints, the blurry trappings of a med bay blinking into focus. His mind feels syrupy and dull. Something tickles at the back of his awareness, a sense of forgotten urgency.
Where the kriff am I?
A vague sense of dissatisfaction niggles at him and he looks around for… something. Coll shifts and the dull ache in his shoulder flares, but not as painfully as a blaster wound should be.
Blaster wound.
The pirates.
They’d been captured by the Empire.
On the monitor, his heart rate spikes and a light flashes.
Fear bubbles up at the back of his throat, blurring his vision and Coll instinctively reaches for the Force for solace only to find it gone . Emptiness, a void where before the living Force had enveloped him. His breaths hitch and he fights not to hyperventilate. Coll’s stomach churns even as he gropes blindly for the Force. Run , his mind screams and he twists to the side to get off the bed but a tug at his wrists stops him. Coll looks down. He’s wearing soft blue pajamas. Thick metal cuffs encircle his wrists. He yanks on them, rattling the chains leading from the cuffs to the bed’s railings.
The harsh lights of the med bay, the Force-blindness, the dizziness from whatever they’d drugged him with, it’s too much. Bile rises in his throat and he tugs futilely on the cuffs while he strains for the Force.
Then something reaches back. Something warm tentatively brushes up against his consciousness, exuding eagerness. Coll freezes. There must be other Force users being held here, perhaps even other Jedi. Hope sparks in his chest. If he can find the Force users, together they might be able to rescue his children and escape.
He looks around the room. There’s a tray with medical devices and a bedpan, a chair for visitors, a door, and a large mirror on the far wall that Coll suspects is an observation window. He stretches out in the bond again but there’s no indication of where the other Force user is.
Coll glances at the door then at the heart rate monitor. It’s still flashing and beeping so he doesn’t have much time. Coll glances down at his wrists. He’s gotten out of cuffs before. He takes a deep breath and clenches his jaw, then wrenches at his thumb. It snaps and Coll bends over breathing harshly as red-hot pain crackles over him. He slips his hand through the cuff and takes hold of his other thumb.
Before he can do anything the door bangs open and armored men burst into the room. Coll flinches back and throws up a hand, grasping desperately for the Force that’s still half-muffled by the other cuff. Medical devices rise shakily into the air and Coll flings them as hard as he can. The soldiers plow ahead, through and around the projectiles. Two of them pin Coll to the bed and he snarls, thrashing from side to side. Someone yanks his head away then there’s the pinprick of a hypo-injector in his neck.
Coll sags against the bed, chest heaving. His gaze flicks from soldier to soldier. Panic swirls in his chest but he can’t move, only watch the soldiers with glassy eyes.
One of them stalks forward to stand at his bedside. They remove their helmet and Coll stares up into the familiar face of a clone. This one has jaig eyes tattooed on their face, their armor is painted with black streaks. They tug off their gloves and stow them in their belt, then gently take Coll’s broken hand in their own.
As soon as their hands touch, lightning streaks through Coll’s body. The warmth he’d felt from the other Force user explodes in a cacophony of sensation. Longing pulses warmly through the bond, threading its way through the bright spark of the clone’s mind. Dark swirls of grief flow in eddies alongside a burning sense of duty. Of righteousness. Coll’s eyes widen and he flinches at the onslaught even as the tension in him unwinds. Touching the clone is like watching a fire in a hearth, mesmerizing and warming. The clone gazes steadily back at him. Their lips twitch and they wink. Looking up, they say something to the other soldiers, speaking too quickly in Mando’a for Coll to understand.
The door opens again and another clone, medic insignia emblazoned on their pauldron, marches into the room. They brush Coll’s clone away and take his hand. Coll watches distantly as the medic assesses it, then injects it with bacta and places it in a brace. The cuff is reattached to his wrist and his hand is tucked gently against his side then the medic slips out the door, leaving Coll with the soldiers.
There’s four of them, all helmeted except for the one running circles over Coll’s other hand. One by one, they remove their helmets, staring at him with an eagerness that takes Coll aback. Two of them have tattoos on their faces, a circle on their temple and the Mando’a glyph for “new beginnings”. The third has dark blue-dyed hair.
What do they want from me? He wonders.
The clone holding Coll’s hand is saying something but he can’t understand them. They’re speaking too quickly in Mando’a for his hazy brain to translate. The clone pauses, looking at him expectantly, but Coll can only stare back at him. They sigh and pat his cheek, ignoring the way Coll flinches back. Their hand is warm and calloused.
Coll watches them warily, fighting to keep his eyes open. The hearthfire of the clone’s presence in the back of his mind is making him drowsy. Then the clone with the cin vhetin tattoo comes to stand at his bedside and tentatively places a hand on Coll’s shoulder.
Coll gasps as a consciousness slips into his mind and he feels sensations from two perspectives. He smells the sharp antiseptic scent of the med bay, stronger by tenfold. Then the clone reaches deeper into their bond and Coll can hear . The heartrate monitor beeping, the soft breathing of the beings in the room, even the whirl of the air circulation system. Heat pools behind Coll’s eyes then spills over at the onslaught of sensation. The clone brushes his tears away, fingers light against his face.
They turn towards the clone standing on the other side of the bed and they murmur something in Mando’a then they unstrap their armor and place it on the ground. They stretch, fabric dragging against their skin and outlining their muscles, light glinting off their tattoo, then carefully shift Coll over. The bed dips as they clamber in next to him. They lie down next to Coll and scoot closer until they’re flush, hip and shoulder. Coll stiffens as they wrap their arms around him, but they just lie there, a warm weight around him.
The soldier with the jaig eyes strokes his hair. He’s close enough for Coll to see his lips. That, along with the sound from their half-formed bond, allows him to hear the soldier murmur, words enunciated and slow, “ Aaray, jet’ika?”
Coll blinks rapidly as his brain translates. He manages to get out, “ Ni alaar naasad ” which is a lie. His thumb is throbbing and the dull ache in his shoulder flares with every twitch and tremor.
The soldiers stare, then delight blossoms in the half-bond. Jaig Eyes smiles widely, “ Gar jorhaa’ir Mando’a?” he asks, speaking as slowly as before.
Coll shifts uneasily at the attention, “Only a little” he says in Basic.
As if responding to his anxiety, the clone holding him runs a hand down his back. He turns to the other clones. His voice, though lowered, is firm and authoritative, “ Jet’ika cuyir haryc. Gar slanar jii.”
“No, no.” Coll scowls at the clone, “I’m not tired. Please, I want answers. Where are my initiates?”
Jaig Eyes responds, “Safe. They’re being taken care of. You’re on Valor’s Reach, Venator-class star destroyer. We’re en route to Coruscant.” He nods, a clipped movement, “I’m Corporal Tavo.”
The clone holding him with the cin vhetin tattoo says, “I’m Ratchet.”
“Swoop,” says the clone with the blue hair.
The last clone shifts awkwardly. The light glints off the circle tattoo above his eye, “And Niner.”
Tavo’s voice softens. “You’re not alone now. We’re squad Echo Fang. We stand with you.”
Coll’s breaths hitch at the reminder and his eyes widen, “What does that mean? How are you in my head? Where are my initiates?“
The monitor beeps rapidly as Coll’s heart rate picks up.
“Hey,” Ratchet takes him by the chin and gently turns his face so that they’re eye to eye. “It’s okay, you’re okay. We’ll explain everything, just bear with us, yeah?”
Despite himself, Coll feels heat behind his eyes. The blaring lights of the med bay, the amplified sounds, the smell and feel of the clone pressed against him - it’s all too much.
He jerks his face out of Ratchet’s hold and glares. “Then talk to me.”
The clones exchange amused looks.
“ Copikla ” Tavo’s eyes are warm and fond, “That pull you feel? That’s because you’re a Guide. And us…” Tavo tips his head toward the others, pride flickering in his eyes. “We’re the ones made to stand at your side. Your Sentinels. Do you know what that means, Regald?”
Coll narrows his eyes, “I go by Coll. And no.”
Tavo’s lips twitch, “Sentinels have enhanced senses. We’re stronger and faster than normal humans too. It sounds too good to be true, and it is. All that sensory input overloads our brains and drives us mad unless we have,” he tips his head toward Coll, “Someone to steady us. A Guide.”
Coll stares at him. If not for the fledgling bond that lets him feel Tavo’s hearthfire presence, he would think the man insane. As it is, he feels the stirring of another presence in his mind, one that comes into focus the longer he’s in Ratchet’s arms. safelongingours reverberates through his mind and Coll blinks blearily, suddenly sleepy. The drug hums under the bond. He can taste it, metallic at the back of his throat, but it’s the bond that smooths the edges out of him, not just the sedative.
He shakes his head to clear it, “If you didn’t have a Guide until you met me, how’d you survive so long then?”
Tavo’s presence in his mind ripples with griefyearning , “We did have one. He died when Palpatine bombed the Jedi Temple six years ago.”
Coll stills. He’d lost friends in the bombing, friends that he still sees when he closes his eyes. Their faces blur now, half-remembered and fading, and that is the cruellest wound of all - that he is forgetting the warmth of their smiles. He hadn’t seen them die, but sometimes he thinks that’s worse. He’s left with only absence. Unanswered comms, names that never lit up his console again, and the hollow guilt of survival because he wasn’t there to stand beside them.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Coll says quietly, “We all lost someone that day.”
Ratchet murmurs into his hair. “It’s alright mesh’la , it was a long time ago.”
The silence weighs on him until Coll stirs, voice raw, “Please… I need to know. Where are my initiates?”
“They’re just a few rooms over, being watched over by vode . I promise they’re safe.” Ratchet says.
Niner shifts uneasily, “We can take him to visit them soon, right Tavo?”
Tavo shoots him a glare then smooths his face into a smile when he sees Coll looking. “Once he’s better, yes.”
Coll frowns, “I need to see them.”
Tavo gives a helpless shrug, but the movement is too precise to be genuine. “Medics said to keep you in bed for another day at least. You know how it is. There’s paperwork, sure, and Intelligence will want a chat, but right now you rest.”
Coll sags back against the pillow. Ratchet tucks the blanket more securely around him. safewarmstay swamps Coll’s mind like syrup.
For a moment, he almost lets the hearthfire presence in his mind soothe him. Then he remembers the sound of the Temple collapsing, the silence after unanswered comms, and the children’s faces waiting for him just out of reach. He turns his face into the pillow, trembling with the weight of it. The clones’ protection is not safety. It’s a cage, and he is already trapped by it.
safewarmstay echoes through his mind, pressing down on his consciousness like a weighted blanket.
Coll stifles a yawn and blinks blearily. His thoughts unravel by degrees, sharp edges dulling as exhaustion seeps in. The weight in his limbs grows heavier, his body sinking into the bed as though the mattress is swallowing him whole. Then the last flicker of awareness clinging stubbornly slips loose, leaving only the quiet darkness of sleep.
Tavo watches Ratchet hold their Jetti . The warm glow of his squadmate in the connection draws him in like a moth to a flame, and he luxuriates in it. It had felt… wrong being the only Sentinel in their squad to have bonded with the pretty Jetti .
He knows in his head that the Jetti isn’t what one might consider to be classically beautiful. The bags under their eyes, the haunted and wary edge to their gaze, their rangy frame. No, the Jetti will not be winning any beauty pageants. But manda , they’d been gorgeous in the surveillance videos he’d watched of their capture.
He’d watched the vids with his squad, as he knew all Sentinel squads had done. They’d crowded around his datapad, the air practically vibrating with anticipation. And what a sight it’d been. The Jetti (theirs now) single-handedly holding off an entire crew of pirates. They’d all flinched back when Coll had lashed out at the troopers with the Force. He’d been terrible and glorious, arms outstretched with a bloody snarl twisting his face. Then collapsing to the ground when the stunners got him, and the discovery of the precious cargo he’d been guarding. The trooper’s HUD had captured every flinch and terrified whimper of the Jetti’ade when the cockpit doors finally opened.
Tavo makes a mental note to check-in on the status of the Jetti’ade , their Guide will want to know how the little ones are doing. He glances back at Ratchet. The vod is running his hand through their Jetti ’s hair, murmuring softly to them. He catches Tavo’s eye and nods at him. Tavo nods back and tucks his smile away as he remembers when they initiated his own bonding.
They’d started it while the Guide was still unconscious from their surgery, arms wrapped around the Jetii just as Ratchet has right now. He sees Ratchet’s dilated pupils and knows what he’s feeling - the frenetic buzz of sensory input that plagues all Sentinels settling into something resembling serenity . The Guide’s presence is a balm that soothes the overtaxed senses of their Sentinel. For the first time since Tavo presented as a Sentinel, he’d been able to hear himself think once he started bonding with the Guide.
Ratchet nuzzles into the Jetii ’s hair and closes his eyes. His breaths deepen as he falls into a meditative trance. At the foot of the bed, Niner shifts his weight. He watches Ratchet and the Jetii with longing clear in his gaze. His eyes flick up to meet Tavo’s. Tavo nods at him, then gestures for the rest of their squad and turns to leave.
They troop out and settle into chairs in the waiting area. Tavo leans back and exhales, “Well that could have gone better.”
Swoop runs a hand through his blue hair, anxiety shadowing his face, “I can’t believe he’d break his thumb to get out of the shackles. Do you think we need to worry about self-harm?”
Tavo drums his fingers against the arm of his chair then shakes his head, “I don’t think so. He didn’t do it to hurt himself. He did it with a purpose in mind. He’ll need to be watched and maybe fixed with a force-suppressing collar instead of cuffs though.”
Tavo glances at Niner, who’s staring toward the door that leads to where their Jetii is. “Everything okay, vod ?”
“‘M fine.” Niner mumbles at the floor, color rising on his cheeks.
Tavo smothers a smile. Niner had joined their squad only 7 months ago but as the youngest with a quiet disposition, they all felt protective of him. Niner hadn’t said anything when they found out their claim on the Jetii was approved, but his eyes had welled up and he’d hurried to hide away in the bathroom.
Swoop clears his throat, “I still think we should keep an eye on the Jetii when we’re deployed.”
Tavo hums, “Sounds like a good idea. We don’t want him to hurt himself again. Hopefully he won’t have to, with us at his back.”
Swoop nods then he turns to Niner, “You excited to be working with ade soon?”
Niner tears his eyes away from the door, “Yeah. The tubies were so cute in the vids.”
Swoop grins, “It sounds like the Jetii ’s work takes him all over the Mid-Rim. I can’t wait to see new sights.”
Tavo chuckles low, already imagining it. “Wherever he goes, we’ll follow. That’s how it’s meant to be.”
The others murmur their agreement, a soft chorus of loyalty that fills the room like a vow.