The white lights in Kamino’s corridors always felt colder after testing.

Wrecker trudged through them now, boots dragging a little more than usual and his shoulders slumped. He rubbed at the fresh patch on his arm- still aching faintly from the biopsy needle they’d used that morning. He’d lost count after the third blood draw. Base training had followed, like always. Even after hours in the labs, they’d shoved him into a combat drill- like they needed more on how fast he could throw another clone across the room.

His muscles burned, his eyes were heavy, but what ached worse was his chest. He didn’t cry though. Not in the labs, not during training, and especially not when Crosshair was already picking fights with regs and Hunter was busy trying to keep them out of trouble. He could be tough. He was tough. Stronger than any of the cadets, stronger than some of the troopers even. They said so in their notes.

Didn’t mean his heart didn’t hurt sometimes.

Wrecker pushed into the squad’s shared barracks, quiet and mostly empty for once, save the hiss of the door behind him and Tech on his bunk. He peeled off his gloves with sore fingers, knuckles red where he’d hit the training dummy too hard.

All he wanted now was Lula but she wasn't on the cot.

He checked under his bunk, then his pillow. Not there. He rummaged through his gear pile, then Tech’s- earning a muttered protest from somewhere behind a datapad. No luck. A flicker of panic stirred in his chest as he couldn't find her.

Wrecker turned in a slow circle, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Lula?” he mumbled. The stuffed tooka doll always made it better.

The sounds of footsteps behind him caught his attention. He blinked, and they were there, stepping forward, hand outstretched. Not a word, just the plush in their hand.

Lula.

He reached out with both hands, cradling her gently. She was a little flattened on one side, probably from being sat on. Didn’t matter. She was here.

He looked up at the person and smiled at them.

“Thanks,” he said, voice soft.