Chapter Text
“Pack your things. We’re going home,”
The baby Jedi, staring wide-eyed at Stone, took a second to register his words and then cheered loudly. The creche masters, hovering on the peripheries, let out a sigh of relief.
For nearly two months, the initiates from the Temple on Coruscant had been away from home. At first, they stayed away just in case the peace talks ended in violence. And then, they stayed away to ensure a smooth transition of power over to Fox as well as for the majority of the clean-up efforts to complete. They needed to scrub the feeling of death from Coruscant's surface. Baby Jedi were sensitive to that sort of thing.
Stone and the other adults who had left Coruscant with them did their best to keep the baby Jedi safe and calm during the tumultuous times.
He thought he did a fairly good job. The kids shed more than a few tears, mostly due to homesickness and a little bit of anxiety once they found out what exactly had happened.
But they all put on brave faces and helped AgriCorps with their work. They went to lessons. They meditated in large groups. Stone joined them any time they asked. Until one day, Crechemaster Beq pulled him aside and said, “You don’t need to wait for an invitation. You can join us for meditation at any time.”
Stone wanted to argue and point out this was a Jedi thing. Instead, he went more often.
When he first left Coruscant, he tried to keep up with his Corrie Duties. However, given the distance, Fox told him to take a break and focus on keeping the kids alive. So, he did as Fox commanded and spent the past two months helping with bath times, remembering which kid could eat which type of food, brushing hair, reading bedtime stories, and everything else.
The strangest thing happened when he did all this: He slept through the night and didn’t have a single nightmare.
Sure, for the first few days when he didn’t know the full extent of the damage he had nightmares. But once he knew his brothers were safe and Palpatine died, poof. No more nightmares. A solid six hours of sleep. He didn’t know that was possible. The first morning after it happened, he thought someone had drugged him.
Nope.
No drugs.
Just good old-fashioned sleep.
He hoped it would continue when they got back to Coruscant.
“Alright, cadets. Let’s move it. Everyone keep with their buddy and make sure they got everything,” Stone said as he balanced Grogu on his hip and directed an army of excited baby Jedi to pack their things in a somewhat orderly manner.
Easier said than done. Talking about going home interested the kids more than packing.
Zizi tugged on his hand. “Are you going with us, Master Stone?”
He long gave up on trying to get them to call him anything other than Master Stone. “Of course I am. I gotta get home too,” he said.
“But are you coming back to the temple with us?” She pressed.
“Yeah, I’ll help drop you off at the temple.”
Zizi’s face screwed up with frustration. “Are you staying with us?”
“Staying with you? At the temple?”
She nodded.
“Nah. I’m going to stay at the barracks. I got a job to do on Coruscant,” he said.
“But--”
“Zizi,” Master Ali-Alann said. “Get your things packed. We don’t want to leave anything behind.”
Zizi grumbled and stepped away from Stone and back towards her bed.
Stone turned to monitor the rest of the cadets.
Staying at the temple?
Ridiculous.
As a clone commander of the Coruscant Guard, he couldn’t stay at the temple. He had a job to do.
He let out a tired sigh, feeling exhausted and weary at the prospect.
No more bath times. No more story times. Just reading report after report about public disturbances and murders and theft and whatever else plagued Coruscant’s streets.
He could feel the sleep slipping away from him with every second that passed. But what else could he do?
He wasn’t a Jedi. He didn’t have Force Sensitivity. He was a clone commander. He had a duty to his brothers and to the Republic.
So, as much as it pained him, he would do his duty. He would return to the Coruscant Guard.
Besides, the baby Jedi helped out before. Maybe they could do it again.
*****
Turns out, they didn’t need the baby Jedi or the padawans to help out anymore. Fox passed several bills that increased the budget of the Coruscant Guard and allowed them to hire nat borns to work with them, increasing the number of people on staff so they only had twenty percent vacancies instead of the eighty from before.
No more Baby Jedi stopping by and helping fill out paperwork.
That was fine. It made Stone happy. The kids deserved to live a life as kids and not as mini-adults doing work.
He got back to Coruscant, made sure all the kids were safe, and then slid back into his old position.
Coruscant still looked like shit. He and the others left before the major droid attack. They couldn’t repair all the damage in two months. They might never repair all the damage. Still, that didn’t mean things hadn’t improved.
Fox had taken to the role of chancellor with gusto and a glee that worried Stone a bit. Not for himself, mind you. But for any poor unfortunate, corrupt soul unlucky enough to cross Fox’s path. Thorn had taken up Fox’s old position as marshal commander. Thire ran the prison system. Which left Stone to take up Thorn’s old position.
He excelled at it, of course. He didn’t think a single thing existed that a trooper couldn’t excel at. The sleep he had been getting with the baby Jedi ceased to exist. He spent his nights dreaming of unfinished reports and inaccurate witness statements.
Slowly but surely, things returned to normal.
Sometimes, he’d look up, ready to ask a baby Jedi if they finished copying those files.
Right.
No more baby Jedi.
Just a nat-born who somehow had less dexterity than a five-year-old. Maybe being dexterous at five years old was something only cadets and Jedi could be.
He got up every morning and commuted to the base. He went through the day’s cases, did role call, followed up on documents that hadn’t been completed, assigned tasks, coordinated with Thire prisoner transport, got lunch at a kebab cart that hung out around the base, got dinner at the mess hall, then collapsed in his bunk exhausted but never able to fall asleep. The next day’s tasks demanded his attention.
He’d pass out. Get maybe four hours of sleep, then wake up the next day and do it all over again.
Such was the life of Clone Commander Stone.
Fox summoned him to his office about three months in.
Stone went without question.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Fox asked as he signed a document and then shoved it at one of his aides. “Go, give this to Free Taa and tell him to quit bothering me.”
“ Yes sir,” the aide said. They weren’t a brother, so they had perhaps an unnecessary level of fear towards Fox.
Or a necessary one, depending on who you asked.
“You asked me to be here, sir?” Stone said as the aide scrambled past him.
“I know I asked you to be here. I mean what are you doing with the Corries?”
“My job?”
Fox’s words confused Stone. Had he not been doing a good enough job? Had he been slipping? He shouldn’t be. With the extra help, they were more efficient than ever before. He knew Fox had high standards. But Stone met every single marker given to him.
“You fucking hate being a Corrie,” Fox continued.
“I don’t--”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit. You do. I know you do.” His phone rang. “What?” he barked, picking it up and practically slamming it against his head.
The person on the other line spoke.
“Send it to Amidala. She’s the one running the corruption trial.”
More speaking.
“Then fucking start cutting off fingers if they don’t give you the information you need. I don’t fucking care.” He slammed down the phone and then massaged his temples with his fingertips.
“Sir, I can go if you need me to.”
“I can multitask,” he growled. He pulled a datapad to him and signed it.
“Shouldn’t you read that before you sign it?”
“I did.”
“Okay, then.”
“Stone, we aren’t slaves anymore. You can leave. I’m not forcing you to stay. Thorn’s not forcing you to stay. No one will blame you if you want to fuck off.”
“But, my brothers. I have a duty to them and to the Republic.”
“Fuck the Republic,” Fox growled once more.
“You’re the Chancellor!”
“And I hate it now even more than before. Because now, not only do I get to see what a fucking mess this is, I get to be the one to deal with it and fix shit.”
The phone rang again.
“What?” He barked. “Then fucking tell them they can leave. I made a fucking form and everything. If they want to go, they can go. I’m not stopping them.” He slammed the phone down. “Stone, do not spend your life doing what you think you should be doing. Or what you think I want you to be doing. I did not spend a year of my life plotting to kill Palpatine for our brothers to continue being miserable slaves. You’ve done your duty. You’ve protected the Republic. Leave. Besides, we’re not a fucking cult. You can still stay at the barracks and visit the Corrie office and whatever else the fuck you want to do. Now get out of here. I have a meeting with… someone. Who the fuck do I have a meeting with?” He dug through his stacks of datapads, now completely ignoring Stone. A sign that he no longer had anything to say.
Stone could stay. But he’d be standing in silence, completely ignored while Fox’s mind became wrapped up in whatever task he needed to complete next.
So, he saluted (did you salute your chancellor?) and stepped out of the room.
He went straight back to the Corrie Base to finish up his shift. He gave more orders and coordinated with Thire and Thorn. He reviewed applications for various positions that needed to be filled. He went to the mess hall for dinner. They had soup on the menu. He hated Soup Day.
After dinner, he went to the gym and got a solid weight-lifting session in.
A shower.
A fresh pair of blacks.
Then he collapsed onto his bunk, feeling like he would pass out the second his head hit the pillow but knowing that wouldn’t happen.
And it didn’t.
He lay there, awake for hours.
Only this time, instead of to-do lists for tomorrow and trying to solve problems that had popped up during the day, he thought about Fox’s words.
Leave.
If he didn’t like it, he could leave.
And he didn’t like it.
He never liked it.
He thought he did. For the longest time, he liked working with his brothers and completing missions.
That had been before.
Before the baby Jedi had shown up. Before he started teaching them and watching out for them. Before he spent two months taking care of them.
Before he learned there were other options available to him.
It felt strange. The Kaminoans made him for war. Designed him for war. He wasn’t supposed to be soft. To care and nurture.
He never felt like a soldier with the baby Jedi. He never feared hurting them or making them cry like the trainers he had growing up.
The crechemasters never seemed worried Stone would be anything other than gentle with the baby Jedi. They never questioned that he could be more. They accepted it.
He didn’t want to be a Corrie. He wanted to be a crechemaster.
But how did he go about doing that?
*****
“How to apply for a job: research the company and job opening thoroughly, update your resume and cover letter to fit the specific role, submit your application through the preferred method (usually online), and follow up with the hiring manager after applying; be sure to tailor your application materials to each job you apply for, highlighting the most relevant skills and experiences. Seems easy enough,” he muttered as he clicked through the article. He had never written a resume or cover letter before.
“How to write a resume,” he muttered, typing it into the search bar.
“What are you doing?” Crescent asked as he peaked over Stone’s shoulder. “Applying for a job?”
“I want to be a crechemaster,” he said. He told Thire and Thorn earlier. Both had been supportive and helped him fill out the form for him to leave the GAR. However, all three agreed he should first get a job before leaving. Just to make the transition smoother.
Crescent was the first person he had admitted this to outside of Thire and Thorn.
Waiting for his reaction made him nervous. Sure, Fox said he could leave if he wanted to and that he wasn’t abandoning his brothers. What if they didn’t see it that way?
“Do you need help?” Crescent asked.
Stone let out a sigh of relief. Of course, they supported him. Troopers had to support each other, no matter what. Before, and even now, they were the only people they could count on in many cases.
“Please,” Stone groaned. “I’ve never written a resume or cover letter before.”
Crescent sat next to him. “I’ve never either. How hard can it be?”
Very hard, as it turned out.
“We don’t have a specific role to fit your resume to,” Archer said as he scrolled through yet another site promising help with building a resume. “And why are they all asking me to subscribe? What am I subscribing to? How many jobs do nat borns apply to?”
“It says you should do reverse chronological order,” Sidewinder added. “But you’ve only ever had the one job.”
“But he’s been promoted a bunch,” Hound said. “That can be his reverse chronological order.”
“Will it look weird, though? Just seeing a bunch of one-month jobs? And he was command class so it’s not like he started all the way down at the bottom,” Thire said.
“Are we even allowed to be doing this?” Sol asked. He had been put in charge of the cover letter. “Is it illegal to have other people fill out your resume and cover letter for you ?”
“No. Doesn’t say so on any of the sites,” Archer pointed out. “Some of them even offer to do it for you.”
“And he has to approve of everything before we send it in,” Crescent added.
“This site says you should have references,” Robin added.
“References!” Stone groaned. He hadn’t expected applying for a job to be so difficult. Maybe he should just stay a Corrie.
“I’ll be your reference,” Archer stuck his hand up.
“No, it should be past bosses and stuff like that. That’s what the site says.”
“Is it cheating to have the Chancellor of the Republic be your reference?” Hound asked.
“Palpatine can’t give a reference. He’s dead!” Sidewinder pointed out.
“I’m talking about Fox, dipshit.”
“Yes?”
“For the millionth time, change your fucking name, Dipshit!”
Thorn stepped out of his office. “What is with all the commotion? Don’t you lot have work to do?”
“We’re trying to help Stone apply for a job as Crechemaster,” Archer chirped.
“I still say you need to be a Jedi to be a crechemaster,” Sol grumbled.
“No, you don’t. It doesn’t say anywhere on the Jedi holosite that you need to be a Jedi to be a crechemaster.”
“It’s implied!”
“Soldiers!” Thorn barked.
They fell silent.
“This is a mess.”
“Sorry, sir. I’ll have them get back to work,” Stone said. He should have worked on this off-duty anyway.
“No. We need to get this done.” Thorn stepped out of his office and to their planning board.
“What?”
He wiped the board.
“Uh, that was for a murder investigation, sir,” Cage said.
Thorn didn’t seem to mind. “What do you need to apply for a job as a Crechemaster?”
“You need to be a Jedi,” Sol said.
“For the last time, if you needed to be a Jedi, they would have said so,” Archer hissed.
“Cover letter, resume, and references, sir,” Robin said, saluting and standing with his back stick straight.
“I thought you said he was less wound up,” Hound hissed to Crescent.
“He is.”
Thorn turned back to the board and wrote down the three items Stone needed.
“Right, we’ll split into teams. Archer, Sol, you’re in charge of getting the references.”
“Yes, sir!” Archer leapt up. “Don’t worry, sir, we know just who to ask.” He gave Stone two thumbs up and then dragged Sol out the door.
“Crescent, Sidewinder, Robin, you three are in charge of the cover letter.”
“Yes, sir.” Crescent pulled Sidewinder and Robin to a small desk.
“Hound, Cage, Thire, you’re in charge of the resume.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Stone, I need you writing down everything you’ve ever done. Every medal you’ve ever received. Every class you’ve ever passed. Give the lists to Thire and Crescent so they can put it in the cover letter and resume.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned to his desk. “Do you think I need to put my flight-sim training on it?”
“Someone’s got to teach the baby Jedi to fly,” Sidewinder pointed out.
Very true.
“I’ll pull your training and service records so you can attach it as proof,” Thorn said. “Let’s get this done, people.”
“One page! How are we going to get everything Commander Stone’s ever done in one page?” Cage asked.
“We’ll make the font very small,” Hound suggested.
“It says ‘Times New Roman 12 point font’ is the norm.”
“Damn. We’ll cut out adjectives.”
“Good idea.”
*****
“Commander Stone, good to see you again,” Master Beq said. He and a few other crechemasters had come to greet Stone.
Stone had shown up at the steps of the Temple, unsure if he was allowed to go in. The guards took pity on him and asked what he wanted. He told them. They sent for some creche masters. And now they were here.
He clutched the documents in his hand. The holonet said to send them through the job portal, but he didn’t know if the Jedi had one. Besides, he didn’t trust the holonet not to lose his work. Handing the documents to them personally would look better anyway, he and his brothers decided.
“Sirs, I have come to apply for a job as a crechemaster.” Why was his heart beating so wildly in his chest? He had talked to these people before. He knew they were nice .
“Um… that’s not really--” Master Maibock began to state.
“I have several references. Including a few from Jedi,” he continued.
Archer and Sol had managed to get Master Kenobi, Master Koon, Master Secura, Ahsoka, and Barriss as references, along with a few others. They had also secured references from Cody, Fox, Thorn, Wolffe, Gree (they removed that one on account of all the violence), and Bly. Amidala, Organa, Mothma had also given their references. And a few others that surprised him.
“Is one of those Jedi Quinlan Vos?” Master Ali-Alann asked.
Stone shuffled through his paperwork and pulled out Vos’s reference. He knew he wouldn’t be a good one to have.
“I still have several Jedi as references. And my former commander. And my current commander. And Gungi.”
Archer had insisted that having a baby Jedi as a reference would only serve to further prove he could do this job. Grogu submitted a reference. However, given that he couldn't read or write, it was less words and more colorful handprints slapped on the page.
“Gungi? When did he have time to write a reference?”
Master Beq took the documents from Stone’s hands and flipped through them.
“Master?” Maibock asked.
He hummed. “These do look official. And the children do miss you. When can you start?”
Stone breathed a sigh of relief. It worked! He had applied for (and gotten) his first job!
“As soon as you need me to, sir.”
“He’s not a Jedi.” Maibock hissed.
“ There’s nothing in the rules that says he needs to be.” Master Beq shrugged.
“Isn’t it implied?”
“I don’t do well with implications.” He turned back to Stone. “Tomorrow, be here bright and early. We'll get you set up. You’ll need to stay at the temple. A crechemaster’s duty is day and night. Will that be a problem?”
“No, sir. I look forward to it.”
He would miss the barracks and staying with his brothers, but they were still here on Coruscant. He could see them whenever he wanted. Besides, even now, just talking about the future, filled him with hope. And not the anxiety it had before.
He belonged here.