White and Blue
A super-old Star Wars: The Clone Wars fanfic by SouthernImagineer/ecto1B
(Takes place between Plan of Dissent and Carnage of Krell)

(Note: Arra Tuined is my personal OC, while Myn Thek belongs to AstroRen's UberNova. I wrote this for her!)

He was scheduled to die.

Being trained from birth to face death and destruction in the eye, you would expect Fives to be completely at ease with the fact. After all, he encountered the unpleasant realities of war on a daily basis. Fives was shot at, bombarded with shrapnel, packed into tight corners, given impossible tasks to complete… and that was a normal day for him and all of his brothers. He was bred not to fear death, but to embrace it. Not to welcome it with open arms, per say, but more to realize that it was his duty to fall. He was made to die—literally.

But to be approached with the reality that he would be court-martialed, and then put to death for his so-called crimes? Fives was not ready for that. Far from it, actually. How could he wait patiently for such a proceeding to carry out? How could he go on, knowing that in only a few days he'd be tried and found guilty? And after that… executed? To him, war was much more merciful, for when it was about to kill you, you had no idea. Death on the battlefield—or the injuries that caused death—happened in an instant. You could try to prevent it, but the hands of fate were spinning on their own and without your control. Some men died, and others didn't. Every clone trooper had grown up knowing this, having it drilled into their minds, so it wasn't unexpected. It just… happened. But executed?

As Fives made his way down the long corridor towards the temporary barracks, he took careful notice in the looks he received from the brothers who lined the halls. Most faces displayed emotions of sadness and melancholy. Others held narrow gazes and tight lips of disapproval, not at all approving of the ARC trooper's intended insubordination. Yet, all of the clone troopers were thinking the same thing, and Fives knew it for a fact: they were about to lose a brother—two, actually—to something that they all feared and strived their hardest to avoid. Disobeying a general's order was not 'in their programming,' as the Kaminoans might've said. The clones were bred to be fearless, bred to be completely loyal.

Fives had gone beyond that.

Perhaps that was why so many eyed him with condemnation.

There were only a handful of people that Fives felt like he could trust now, after everything that had happened. Jesse, for one. He was also being tried for infringing on General Krell's orders, so Fives could relate to the man. Rex was another; the captain had attempted to take the blame in place of the accused, but Krell had disregarded his statement. And Arra and Myn, the only women among them, were as compassionate and understanding as always. Both had tried their best to convince the Jedi general that he was incorrect in his thinking, that the two troopers did not deserve a fate so cruel. Of course, Krell turned a deaf ear to their pleas. Still, Fives felt an extreme amount of gratitude towards the two women because of this. And he could trust them.

The ARC trooper let his shoulders sag. Usually they were held high to promote a sense of pride and security to his fellow soldiers; today, however, fatigue and anguish consumed his ability for rational, everyday thought, and so his shoulders fell. The back of his throat was dry, so Fives found an empty spot on the nearest wall and located the compact canteen on his belt. The cap unscrewed easily into his gloved hand, and then before he could stop himself, he was swigging the container's entirety. A refreshing stream of water poured into his mouth. Only after the canteen was completely emptied did he swallow and let the water soothe his aching throat.

"Fives?"

He knew who it was without having to look. It was easy for him, picking up different frequencies of voices and matching them to faces. Slowly, the man latched the empty canteen back onto his belt and met the gaze of Arra Tuined. She looked concerned. There were dark, unconcealed circles beneath her eyes, and she wore no makeup. Fives felt himself frown at the sight. He knew Arra to be one who always felt the need to look presentable, whether it was in battle or simply speaking to the troops. Because of the current situation, perhaps, Arra was not in the mood to dab her face with war paint, and that unnerved him.

"Myn's looking for you," Arra said calmly, studying him for a moment. "I thought you might like to know."

"Where is she now?" The tone of voice that left his mouth was certainly not his. Where was the valor? He was not that hollow-sounding. His words were never tinged with bitterness, or sorrow.

Arra seemed to note this, as well. She spoke softer than usual. "She's in the mess hall if you want to find her. I think she mentioned something about polishing your armor."

Fives harrumphed and let his words bleed with vexation. He never meant to, but angry emotions still boiled beneath his skin. It was unavoidable, the way he spoke to Arra. "Why? There's no real point in doing so. My armor will be empty in a few days." Her jaw slackened, and he went on. "She should be spending her time cleaning some other trooper's armor, one that will be using it longer."

At first, the woman didn't say anything. He watched as she swallowed thickly, tightening her jaw and letting her lips part to reveal her gritted row of teeth. She wanted to fire back with something strong. He could tell. Yet, Arra held her tongue and instead began to walk away.

"Go find Myn," she instructed bitterly, and that was all she said. Before Fives could respond, Arra whipped around and strode angrily away.

He walked, but his footsteps felt like they made contact with nothing. He swiveled his head to gaze around the hallway in different directions, but he saw nothing. He took swift, clear breaths in through his nose, but there was nothing to refill his lungs. Fives felt meaningless. He felt stiff. Every joint in his body ached. Exhaustion annihilated the muscles in his limbs. His head was foggy with echoes of Krell's impractical demands. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to rest, to relax, to let the world move around him as he stood still.

As crazy as it sounded, Fives continued to wish for a miracle.

Myn was in the mess hall, like Arra had said. Her face was red and blotchy. She sat at one of the far tables, relatively close to the corner of the room, and her hair hung over the sides of her face like blonde curtains shadowing a sad, desolate scenery. Fives immediately felt strong emotions protrude from his silent heart as he saw her like this, and he hastily went to her.

"Myn."

The Jedi didn't move.

"Myn, please." Fives took the seat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. His muscles found the strength to pull her close, despite their pain. "Please talk to me."

"You smell," she said in a murmur, not meeting his eyes. "And your armor is dirty."

Relief, soothing relief, melted into Fives's angered mind. At least she was speaking. "I know. I'm sorry. Can we talk?"

It was obvious that the woman was trying to avoid the looming topic. Her voice was extremely clipped and straightforward. "After I clean your armor," she insisted as she stood from the table and pulled a scrap of cloth from her pouch.

Fives was worried about Myn. She'd been one of the first to hear the news about his sentence, and the first one to react so… erratically. He hadn't seen her at all that night, for she'd chosen to sleep in her own bunk instead of joining him like usual, and from what he'd heard, Myn spent the whole night in tears. Of course, Fives didn't want this to be the case. He loved the young woman with every fiber of his body, and he would do anything to make her happy. Then again, he found it comforting to know that someone valued his life so dearly, instead of being passed off as another clone.

She gazed at him, and he stared back, unfaltering. The piece of cloth curled beneath the tension of her fist. Her blonde hair still hung at an odd angle, and her face was anything but clear, but the ARC trooper was always able to see beyond the woman's outward appearance. Inside of the Jedi's body was a heart that cared deeply for him, and behind the thickness of his armor laid a rhythmic muscle that felt the same way.

"I love you," he said suddenly.

Myn only nodded. Her response, almost an echo of his words, assured Fives of the truth. Yes, she feared for his life, and for his fate. But that couldn't discourage her from feeling the way she did.

"I love you, too."

She dropped the cloth. He placed his helmet on the table. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He dug his gloved hands into her waist. She slammed her mouth against his, and Fives reciprocated the kiss in such a way that had the two completely lost to the outside world. No one else existed. Only the fire and ice that Fives and Myn brought to the table had purpose, backbone, power, durability… they were the only two life forms in the entire galaxy for that one moment, and neither one minded. Fives was scheduled to die, and the woman he loved—however unprepared she was for it—would be by his side, in his arms, for the rest of the way. This kiss, this luxurious, ever-passionate kiss was explicit proof.

Fives lost track of time. Did their kiss last for seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? He didn't know. He just kept kissing her. Her taste never failed to make him weak, and he was going to need a lot of it to survive the next few days. This time, he even had the courage to enter a deeper route, letting his kisses soothe the flesh on her neck and tangling his hands in her messy blonde hair.

He was unprepared for the way Myn returned the favor. Her legs hooked themselves about his armored waist as she kissed him, giving him all the more reason to clutch at her thighs to keep her from falling. He supported her as she supported him. The growls and moans they made had a profound undercurrent to them. It wasn't just about lust, it was about being there for each other, proving that they would never leave each other's side.

And it was hot.

"Fives."

The ARC trooper continued to work on her neck, finding a curve in her collarbone and letting his lips touch every inch of it.

"Fives."

His tongue lightly swiped the untouched section of her exposed shoulder.

"Fives!" Myn let her legs drop from his waist, and she quickly pulled away from his grasp. This time, her cheeks were flushed red, and small crimson marks ran up the length of her neck. Fives smirked proudly at the sight. Those marks were his doing. He was to blame for them.

"What?"

She frowned, but it was apparent that she was far from being angry with him. "Not here."

Raising an eyebrow, Fives contemplated the different turns he could take with her words. A few of them, he was very fond of. After all, General Krell had ordered that he be court-martialed, and Fives deserved a bit of freedom before that fateful moment. Myn seemed up for it; her actions just seconds before proved it. The two of them had never gone so far, yet, Fives really had to live like he was dying…

"Then somewhere else?" he practically pleaded with her, running a gloved hand down her side. The woman visibly shivered at the touch.

"Where?" From the tone of her voice, the ARC trooper could sense that her throat was dry. Thinking about what he was implying, perhaps? "I'm sure Rex would definitely have a fit if we borrowed his private quarters…"

Another hand made its way to her side, this one cupping the curve of her waist. "An empty corridor, then. One of the hangars. A supply closet. An empty cell in the containment tower. Anything."

"This isn't just because of… your sentence, right?" she asked him hazily. "Because—"

"No. It's not." His mind was made up. Gently, but in a sense, forcefully, Fives took Myn's hand and began to tug her past the tables and through the length of the mess hall. He met the door with a driving shove of his shoulder, not bothering to lay a hand on the door's handle. The woman stumbled after him; her eyes were foggy with an emotion that Fives was dying to see more of. She, too, seemed intent on one thing, and especially because of the sentence. Fives would not be around for much longer, and Myn knew it.

Finally, the ARC trooper came to a stop before a nondescript door in the corner of the main building. He remembered it to be a supply closet, because he'd searched it the day they took the base over. It was dark, medium in size, and far away from any large activity, so the two would not be disturbed. Exactly the way he wanted it.

With a smile curving across the clone's tanned features, Fives tightened his grip on Myn's hand and lead her into the closet, quietly shutting the door behind her trembling body.

Sure, if they were caught, they would get in a heap of trouble. A clone having relations with a Jedi? Completely unconventional and absolutely against the rules.

But who gave a damn?

He was scheduled to die.