Chapter Text
“You think all four of us will fit in the bed?” Cody called from the hall.
“Hm.” Davijaan eyed the narrow bed as he continued shoving crumpled clean laundry into his brother’s drawer. If he wanted it folded he could do it himself. “We could do three, but not four.”
“Three on the bed, one on the couch?” Davijaan heard the hall closet shut with a creak and a click, and soft footsteps on the stone. “But then one of us would have to sleep alone upstairs...”
“I can buy some more blankets, we can make up a pallet down here.”
Cody stuck his head in the door and frowned at the overflowing drawer. “That would work.”
“Hm.”
Davijaan didn’t want Wolffe and Fox down here. Wolffe maybe. Fox he wouldn’t mind banishing to the couch. But Cody would never agree to that, so. Extra blanket and pallet for them both.
“At least if he’s on the floor, Fox won’t bite me in his sleep,” he mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I said, even if they’re on the floor, they’ll get a good night's sleep.”
Cody transferred his frown from the drawer to Davijaan, and narrowed his eyes into a proper scowl. “You better be nice to Fox when he’s here.”
Davijaan scowled right back. “I'm always nice to Fox.”
“Mhm.”
“When have I not been nice to Fox!?”
“Well.” Cody leaned against the door frame, thoughtful. “There was that time you got into a fight in the locker room—”
“He tripped me into the bench! And laughed!”
“— and that time you smacked him over the head with a tray in the mess—”
“He kept kicking me under the table!”
“— and that time you took a wrestling match too far and both ended up with bloody noses—”
“We were seven! We didn’t know how to pull our punches!”
“— and that other time—”
Davijaan slapped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m an adult!” he hollered. “I’m mature! I can play nice with people I don’t like! You, out of everyone, know this!”
Cody danced around the room, dodging Davijaan’s attempts to tackle him with bored poise. “This whole week is just going to be me and Wolffe trying to keep you two from being alone together in the same room, isn’t it,” he sighed.
Finally giving up, Davijaan abandoned the rest of the laundry and stalked out of the room with a haughty sniff. “If Fox wants to hang on to old grudges, that’s hardly my business.”
“Davi—”
“No, no, I see what you really think of me,” he called over his shoulder as he thumped up the stairs. “All this time, my efforts to be rational and calm and friendly have been ignored. It’s only when I slip up that you notice!”
He heard Cody laughing as he emerged upstairs, and took a moment to flop down on the couch and roll his eyes extravagantly. Sure, he and Fox weren’t close, but they’d always gotten along when they needed to. Give or take a few fistfights. But that was true of most of Davijaan’s relationships with his siblings. Or, well. Minus the fistfights. But really, Fox wasn’t special. Aside from being the only one of his brothers to repeatedly provoke him to violence. Kote didn’t count.
Cody. Not Kote.
He had to change the shape in his head if he wanted to successfully change the feel in his mouth. He was working on it. He’d messaged Wolffe and said to use Cody for now, and to not ask why, and maybe someday that would feel like less of a loss. Maybe one day he’d actually get used to it. Maybe one day neither of his brother’s names would taste of bitterness and pain.
***
After the war had ended Wolffe had bought his own ship and fucked off to who knows where. Some of the 104th had gone with him, and a few of the batchmates he’d managed to reconnect with. And of course, his shadow.
During the war Davijaan and Wolffe had kept in contact more out of habit than anything else. A weekly “Are you dead?/ Not yet.” exchange had defined their relationship during the months in space. When they could they met up on leave, slipping back into their command cadet friendship like they’d never left it.
Wolffe was… comfortable to be around. He’d been the only other cadet in their command track navigation class who’d seemed excited to be there that first morning. Davijaan still wasn’t sure who had latched on to who first.
Besides comfortable, he’d found Wolffe to be meticulous and perceptive and open with affection. He was also terrifyingly intense and effortlessly intimidating. He was a commander, and he’d earned his rank in a way Davijaan’d never felt he had. But Davijaan was used to intense, and had never let himself be intimidated by his siblings. He liked Wolffe and Wolffe liked him and that was that.
Which was why, after Wolffe let him know his crew had a job delivering cargo to the new Pantoran embassy on Orto Plutonia and would be in the system soon, Davijaan had invited him to come stay with him and Cody for a week. He wouldn’t say he missed being surrounded by the same face every day, but the novelty of being one of only two clones— humans— in the village was quickly wearing off. And maybe he had missed Wolffe.
He’d known, theoretically, that wherever Wolffe went so did Boost and Sinker, so when Wolffe asked to bring someone he hadn’t even thought before saying yes. He’d been surprised when Wolffe announced the date and time his crew would drop off him and Fox.
Briefly. Briefly surprised.
Davijaan had begrudgingly agreed to go straight from work to meet their visitors at the spaceport if Cody came along. He didn’t see the point of going all the way down there just to come all the way back, on speeders, in the snow. Wolffe and Fox would have to rent their own speeder for the trip back anyway.
Snow was creepy. It was like the whole landscape had been covered in a thick blanket and it was impossible to see what was lurking underneath. At the same time, there was no cover whatsoever. Everything was white, so everyone could see everyone from miles away. It was also too damn cold. But it had been cold before the snow, so he tried not to hold that against it.
He did like the snow at night. When the whole land glowed silver in the shine from Orto Plutonia, like the billows and waves and foam of the sea under three moons. He didn’t think he’d mind the return trip in the dark.
***
Wolffe yanked Davijaan into a tight hug before he even had his mouth open to say hello, and didn’t let go until Kote pried him away, whining about his own hug. Fox hung back next to the luggage, and exchanged a polite nod with Davijaan while their idiot brothers somehow turned a hug into a wrestling match. Kote— Cody, was laughing again, and the sound relaxed Davijaan enough that he offered Fox a smile.
Fox blinked, and frowned. Before he could feel properly annoyed by that, Cody extracted himself from Wolffe and tackled Fox, and then Wolffe tugged Davijaan over into that mess too, and everything was loud and happy and familiar for a time. Davijaan wondered why he hadn’t missed this more.
***
Cody was the happiest Davijaan had seen him in months. Compared to their last awkward meet up before the four of them split ways, the atmosphere when they finally got out of the snow and into the house was downright cheerful. There was still a sense that something was different between them, but enough was the same that Davijaan allowed himself to relax fully and enjoy the noise of brothers tramping all over his space and touching his stuff.
He ended up helping Cody make dinner; one of the soups Loren had shown them. When everything was ready he collected Fox and Wolffe from the bedroom and made everyone sit down around the table, bumping knees and elbows, before they dug in.
Wolffe took one bite and started choking. Davijaan was out of his chair and thumping him on the back before he registered the movement.
“Are you alright?” Cody asked, also halfway out of his chair, brow creased with concern. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing!” Wolffe caught his breath and growled. “It’s good. It’s really good! What the hell!?”
“Hey!” Davijaan took a step back and crossed his arms. “Why are you so surprised, huh? Cooking’s easy. If you have a recipe. And if you practice.”
His spoon clattered against the bowl. “Easy? Easy? I’ve been trying to teach myself to make porridge for months, and he says cooking is easy!?”
Davijaan sniffed. “Maybe you’re just bad at following simple instructions.”
“Maybe you bought fancy soup and heated it up and took the credit.”
“You watched us make it!”
“I watched you make something. I was stowing my kit when you were serving the bowls, how do I know you didn’t swap it out?”
Davijaan sputtered and flailed in mock indignation as Wolffe smugly laid out the imaginary plot to convince him they were good cooks, Cody settled back in his seat with a grin, and Fox continued to eat his soup steady bite by steady bite.
***
They stayed up late talking that first night. Wolffe and Fox were now captain and first mate of the heavy freighter, The Pack. They’d spent the last few months flying cargo from one end of the galaxy to the other. Their crew had dropped them off on Pantora after the Orto Plutonia job was over, and were going to meet some contacts to see if they could scrounge up a new job in the meantime. Hauling cargo didn’t make much of a profit, even with the increased demand due to galaxy-wide rebuilding efforts. Mostly because of the equivalent increase in piracy.
They would make more credits and be steadily employed if they did ‘piracy insurance’ work, but Wolffe had flatly turned down the few protection jobs they’d been offered.
“If I never have to fire a blaster again in my life it will be too soon,” he said with a laugh and a grimace, and that was the end of that.
Eventually the difference in local time and ship time made itself known. Davijaan and Wolffe set up the blanket pallets and herded their respective brothers to bed. With the lights off and the soft sounds of breathing in his ears, Davijaan fell asleep faster than he had since the night before Cody had changed his name.
***
When Davijaan blinked awake it took him a moment to remember where he was. But the blankets over him were warmer and softer than Kamino standard, and the air was cold on his face. There were only three brothers asleep beside him, not three dozen.
Or, two. Fox was awake, but didn’t make any move to get up while Davijaan dressed. He ate and left the house before the others woke.
His shift was fine. He was by no means distracted, but he was certainly not as engaged as he usually was. That didn’t matter when he was in the air; flying was flying and he could fly his route in his sleep at this point. But Loren was in the office and gave him an odd look as he clocked out.
“You look… determined,” she said, quirking a smile as she collected her coat and gloves.
“I have some errands to run before I head home. I’ve got to make something interesting for dinner.”
“Oh? You’re cooking instead of Cody?”
“Well. Cody can help, I guess.”
She laughed, and he smiled, small and to himself, and waited as she took her turn signing out.
They hadn’t spent much time together in the last tenday. After the whole Cody debacle he’d needed to deal with that and prepare for Wolffe’s visit, and she hadn’t asked him any questions when he’d told her he wouldn’t be able to meet up for a few weeks.
But he had some time, now. A few minutes at least. And he’d seen her at work and messaged her off and on, but he’d missed just talking to her and being with her, and it felt like all the happiness of the night before was still settled warm in his chest and making it easy to linger so he could walk her to her speeder.
As she shut and locked the door, he shoved his hands in his pockets and searched for something to say. A statement or a question she could respond to by either starting a real conversation or brushing it off. Whatever she wanted. “Any suggestions for how to impress someone with my cooking skills?”
She almost missed the hangar step, turning away from the door too quickly, and he caught her elbow to steady her.
“Impress someone? With cooking specifically? Um— Well, I don’t really— You don’t need—” She pulled away and tugged her bag further up her shoulder, looking at him intent and just the slightest bit confused. “I think it mostly depends on the person and what type of food they like? If you make something you know they’ll enjoy, then it doesn’t matter so much how skillfully you make it.”
“Hm.” He wasn’t sure what all Wolffe liked, but he knew he used to seek out spicy foods on leave. Sadly, skill would absolutely be the defining factor here. “I’ve got a couple opportunities, I’ll figure something out.”
He was still holding her elbow. He released it, shoved his hand in his pocket again. Neither of them took a step back.
“So…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get to the grocer’s before it closes.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“You’ve got to get home, right?”
She shrugged. “I’m not in a rush.”
“Oh. Um.” He looked all around at the silver snow drifts and the stars and how tightly Loren was gripping the strap of her bag. “Would you like to come with me?”
Her hold relaxed. “Sure!”
***
In all their rush of preparation they’d forgotten to make sure they had enough food for four people. They could make what they had stretch if they needed to, but they didn’t need to. During the day Cody had messaged Davijaan a list of things Wolffe and Fox had apparently said they were interested in trying, mostly local foods like the berries for pancake sauce and the magical jerky.
The grocer's shop was yet another two-story round stone building with a domed roof, the interior of the second floor— the shop— lined with carved wood paneling. It was warm and brightly lit and smelled of dirt and blood and spices; crowded with tall aisles of wooden shelves and bulky conservator cases. Davijaan loved it. It was a space that always felt full and alive even when he was the only customer.
The grocer waved a friendly hello to both of them when they finally stumbled inside and out of the cold. The shop would be open for a while, but it was nearing what Davijaan had discovered was the typical Pantoran dinner hour, so he and Loren were almost the only people left inside. They took their time, going from aisle to aisle and checking to make sure they had everything on the list, discussing possible recipes to make and remembering the times they’d made them.
“I still giggle whenever I remember your face after that first bite of jerky,” Loren laughed as she added a package of the aforementioned ration replacement to the basket she was carrying. “You looked so stunned. Absolutely flabbergasted.”
“Wasn’t expecting it to be good,” Davijaan grumbled, and threw in another package— this one with a little flame design to denote extra spice— and brutally snuffed out the flicker of understanding and sympathy he felt for Wolffe.
It wasn’t like he’d been best friends with whoever had made that jerky. There was an element of brotherly trust that had been betrayed.
“I thought you didn’t like spicy foods. Or is that for Cody?”
“Not for Cody.” He hesitated.
He hadn’t said anything to the Yangs about Wolffe and Fox because it hadn’t seemed important. They would visit and then they would leave and that was that. Nothing to do with work was disrupted. But a lot to do with Loren had been disrupted. She hadn’t asked, but he abruptly wanted to tell her. “Some of our brothers are visiting.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she smiled. “That’s fantastic! I’m happy you’re finally getting visitors. The twins came to see me a few times at university and it was always a wonderful time. Are they more of you and Cody’s, um, batch?”
“No, not batchmates.”
Davijaan found more and more that he didn't mind telling Loren things. About himself; about clones. She wasn't weird about any of it. She just wanted to know. And she told him things about herself and Pantora— things he wanted to know. And it was nice to tell her things just because he knew having answers would make her happy, the same way she told him things because she thought the answers would make him happy.
Maybe it was sort of like a gift, in some ways.
“Not batchmates, but still pretty close friends. I met Wolffe in command track. We took all our piloting classes together. 1010’s Wolffe’s brother.” They weren’t batchmates either, but who were brothers and who were friends was a totally separate thing from batchmates.
He checked his list— just a few more things— and turned down the end of the aisle, hitching her bulging bag further up his shoulder. It was so damn heavy, he had no idea how she managed. She fell into step next to him with another question already poised on her lips.
“Ten Ten. Huh. Wasn't your trainer also named after a number? Seventeen, or something similar? Are number names common on Kamino?”
“Um. Not really? Those aren’t names, they're designations.” He found the packages of dried grains that Cody liked to put in soups and she obligingly held out the basket so he could add two. “But ‘17 and 1010 prefer them, so.”
She didn’t retract the basket. He glanced up to find she’d tilted her head, considering him seriously with glowing gold eyes. He could almost see her adding things up in her head.
“In all those reports I read on the third systems army, it always said Cody was a nickname,” she said, slow and deliberate. “I assumed his full name was kept out for security reasons. And then when you were filling out the flimsiwork you didn't put down a surname, and I wondered... That number, that wasn't just a part of his rank?”
He blinked. “You thought it was— What?”
“I thought it was something to do with differentiating the commanders or the sections over which they had command, I didn't even…” She pursed her lips. “That was his, um, designation?”
“Designated serial number. Well.” He gestured vaguely and then had to hitch up her bag again when it slipped. “It was always just the specialization code and the last four digits on the public reports.”
Even if he didn’t mind as much, it was still odd to talk about this. He'd never had to put any aspect of being a clone into words before, because everyone he’d want to talk about it with already knew the details, because they'd lived the details.
“But, Cody isn't a nickname.” Not anymore. “It's his name,” he said, firm, needing this to be understood for some reason. “He chose it.”
Something flashed across her face before she carefully covered it over again with mild curiosity. He didn't think he wanted to name it.
“What about Odd Ball?”
He stiffened, even though he’d seen that question coming. “I, uh. I definitely chose it. It's… my legal name, now.”
She'd heard Cody call him Davi. He knew she'd heard, he could see the question in her eyes. But she must have seen something in his eyes too, because she didn't ask. He relaxed.
“Did… Did all of you choose your own names, then?”
“Well. Nobody else was going to name us.”
“Oh.” Her hold on the basket tightened, and she pulled it close to her chest. “I’m sorry.”
He blinked. “For what?”
She opened her mouth; closed it. “Sorry for asking all these questions.”
“Eh.” He smiled. “Comes with the job, right?”
She huffed; swung the basket to rest on one hip. “I’m trying to get to know you, silly. You have to ask questions if you want to understand something. Or someone.”
“Oh.” He could feel his face heating up. Time to redirect. “Cody's like that. Always asking questions. He did what he was ordered but he always wanted to know why.”
“And you didn't?”
“Knowing why they were issued wasn't going to change the orders, or the fact that I had to follow them.” Though. That was why Cody had been such a good field officer. He’d alway focused on achieving the mission objective rather than following orders to the letter.
“Even if it doesn’t change things in a practical sense, I think knowing the why of something is important. It— It changes the way you think about that something, I suppose.” She sighed, and in silent agreement they started down the aisle again.
“I really am sorry for bringing all of my clone and war related questions to you,” she said a few minutes later as he dumped bottles of cooking oil into the basket. “I need to do my own research. Proper research, not just skimming news feeds. That does come with the job. And even if I don’t technically have the job, I still have the damn degree.”
“The war’s over,” he said, rote, blank.
“Yes,” she said, grim. “But we still have to live with it.”
He kept his gaze fixed on the shelf of spices in front of him. How to tell all these red powders apart… “Still haven’t told your parents about Umbara?”
Something rustled next to him as she shifted the basket into one hand. “I want to. I think they know I haven’t told them everything.”
“Did they not get some kind of alert when you were brought to medical?” He pulled a dark red tin off the shelf. Darker meant hotter, right?
“I wasn’t brought to— to the hospital. The ship’s doctor checked me over and gave me some bacta and meal supplements and that was it. Anyway. I wasn’t the one who was hurt.”
She was the one who had cried.
Kote hadn’t been there when he woke up, but Mitts and Fiddle had. Mitts had run for the commander when Davijaan asked for him, and as soon as his shift was over Kote had brought all his flimsiwork and camped out on the medbay floor, half under the cot so as to be out of the medic’s way. He’d slept there for a week. Mitts and Fiddle and Shua and Bolts and Feather had been in and out when they’d had time, and Kote had even commed Wolffe when their off hours lined up. Davijaan hadn’t been alone for a single second of the whole rotten ordeal.
He turned around, tin in hand, and pulled Loren into a tight hug, crushing her bag between them. “Here. For the ones you missed.”
She made a sound of surprise and then leaned into him, bringing her free arm around his waist. He ignored the way his heart sped up. Her cheek was cold against his ear.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.”
Eventually she pulled away, took a deep breath, and smiled at him. The kind of small smile that didn’t try to cover over anything, and just made her look settled. Content. Her eyes were a bit red but he didn’t think she was going to cry again.
“Here.” She offered up the basket, and he placed the tin of spice on top.
“That’s everything on my list.”
She nodded absently, propping it on her hip again. “So, when do your brothers arrive?”
“Last night.”
“Last—” The settled smile vanished. “They’re already here?”
“Yes.”
“Odd Ball!” She gaped at him, aghast. “You’re working tomorrow!”
“Yes? Was I supposed to tell your parents? It's not going to affect my ability to fly.”
“You didn’t want to take the week off to spend with them? You could have used your vacation time!”
“Oh.” Was that what that was for? He already only worked three days out of every five. He wasn’t stressed enough to think longingly of taking leave.
Loren kept right on talking, brow creased. “You might have to come in tomorrow. It’s short notice, but Ma can reschedule next week’s flights, but tomorrow would be tricky, so if you don’t mind—”
“What are you—”
“How long are they here for?”
“Um. Four more days.”
“Work tomorrow, off the next two days, so then it would just be the one day we need to reschedule, perfect!”
“I can work! You don’t need to do that! It’s only a seven hour shift!”
“And it’s only one extra day off! Paid, if you do your flimsiwork tomorrow!”
He opened his mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. He’d known, theoretically, that he had paid time off available. He’d just never put thought into what he would use it for.
“I guess this is as good a reason as any,” he mumbled. “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to your parents and get that figured out.”
She nodded once, sharp and satisfied, and he rolled his eyes.
They made their way to the counter, exchanged basket for bag, and Davijaan paid for his groceries with his own money.
At the bottom of the wide steps they lingered, silent, heads tilted back to look at the sky. The streetlights were few and intentionally dim, and the galaxy spread out sparking above them. It was more familiar like this— broad and black and studded with stars— but terrifying. The vastness of the blue sky was finite. There was a horizon. Space just went on and on and never came to an end.
He thought he would miss flying in space, but he didn’t. If he had to fly alone, he wanted it to be through a sky and not a void.
He watched his breath curl into steam in the air and said, “If you wanted to meet them, you could. My brothers. Only if you want to. And I guess I'd have to ask them first, but—”
She nudged him with a shoulder. “Of course I want to meet them. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will.”
***
Davijaan doused one serving of his casserole with the red powder, and Wolffe wept straight through dinner. He was very pleased with himself. Cody announced at the end of the meal that he would be taking over the cooking for the rest of the visit.
***
As he washed the dishes— Wolffe helpfully drying, Fox sprawled on the couch being useless, and Cody hiding from bright lights in the bedroom— Davijaan cleared his throat and announced, “Day after tomorrow, you guys are going to meet Loren.”
Wolffe paused. “Loren?”
“What the hell is a loren?” said the couch.
“She is… my friend.”
“She’s the Pantoran lady with the nice hands!” Cody shouted from downstairs.
“Shut up about the hands! And I swear if one of you says some shit like that in front of her—”
“Wait wait wait.” Wolffe put the plate and cloth down. “The same lady? Like the one from Umbara? You found her again? Is that why you moved all the way out here?”
“No, I moved here— I met her— I work for her parents, so—”
“Pretty much,” said the stairwell.
“You were with me when I decided to move! You know it had nothing to do with her!”
“You didn’t tell me shit about why, you just said you wanted to, and I know you were pretty shocked when you ran into her, but, really Davi, did you think—”
Davijaan had slammed the sink off and was halfway to the stairs when Fox interrupted the fratricide with, “What’s she like?”
He almost said “the sky” before his brain caught up with his mouth. “Um. She’s nice? Friendly? Nosy, so be prepared to be asked way too many questions. Stubborn. Calm under pressure, but gets worked up easy over little things. Talkative. Too smart to hide things from. Gets stuck on details. Good memory. Considerate. Competitive. A sore loser.”
Wolffe stared. He shrugged. “You should see her try to cheat at sabacc. She's miserable at it.”
“You’ve watched her play sabacc?”
“I’ve beat her at sabacc. Many, many times.”
Wolffe reeled back like he’d been struck. “You hate cards.”
“Yes. And?”
“You played cards with her.”
“Yes? It was something to do.”
“What the fuck, Davi.”
“I don’t mind cards!” He rolled his eyes. “They’re just not my favorite. We do a ton of other stuff. We go hiking and we cook and we just, talk mostly.”
“I have to meet Loren,” Wolffe declared.
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “You’re going to meet her the day after tomorrow whether you want to or not, and you’re going to like her!”
A slow, toothy grin spread over Wolffe’s face. “Sir, yes sir!” he snapped out a crisp salute.
Davijaan threw his hands up in exasperation and went back to the dishes.