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The floors of the Coruscant barracks, however similar they were in coldness and discomfort to the stiff mattresses of the bunks themselves, were not exactly Fox’s favourite place to sleep. That didn’t stop them from being where he often found himself waking up though, and today was one of those days.
He didn’t remember falling asleep–which probably meant that he had passed out as soon as he returned from his shift, if his half-removed armour was anything to go by. Groaning as he sat up, he stretched his half-asleep muscles, stiff and aching from the uncomfortable conditions.
As he scrambled to his feet, he swayed, and settled himself down at his desk to give himself a few minutes to wake up properly. Out of habit, he checked his comm, and his heart stopped as he watched several missed calls pop up. Oh, kriff this.
He scrolled through them, mainly finding requests and reports from his brothers which he filed away for later. And one missed call from the chancellor. Still bleary-eyed, he reached for his helmet and secured his armour, then called the chancellor.
Who instantly declined.
This shabuir.
Fox didn’t spare himself the luxury of a shower, only downing a cold cup of caf and grimacing. Briefly, he checked the time to see how long he’d napped, knowing he had an extra security escort coming up… 2 hours ago.
Oh, he was fucked.
-
All things considered, the chancellor’s reaction wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
Sure, he now had to rearrange the night shift to make sure someone could watch him in his room when he slept to prevent ‘dangerous failings such as these’, and yes, perhaps he now had to run the full day shift and still have to find time for his full admin and leadership duties just to ensure he didn’t think he was above everyone else, in Palpatine’s words. And maybe he had been threatened to be demoted for neglect of his duties, mocked in front of his men.
He hadn’t been decommissioned yet, and his men hadn’t taken the brunt of his mistake, so that was a win in his eyes.
And so Fox just nodded obediently as always, trying not to let reality sink in until he’d finally had another cup of caf.
Around the chancellor, it was always easier to just agree first, and argue later, Fox had found. In fact, he often found himself blindly nodding along to orders, only to realise the absurdity of them when he got back to the barracks and actually had to write up and execute them. He supposed that it was just the soldier in him keeping him alive, or his subconscious helping him to get out of that cursed man’s presence as quickly as possible. At the very least, it lightened the repercussions when the chancellor eventually did punish him for disobedience.
Though this time perhaps, he reminded himself as he marched to the hangar with his security detail, the consequences were lightened by the fact that the delayed task was one for the Jedi, and not for the chancellor himself. He tried not to think about what might have happened if he’d slept through Palpatine’s direct orders. He was better off not knowing.
-
Fox boarded the bridge–his security detail having split off towards the brig to retrieve the freshly caught criminal–and was met by Plo Koon, and a handful of Wolffe’s men.
“Wolffe is tending to other matters, but he will join us when he is finished,” Plo explained before Fox could even think to ask.
Now that he was away from the guard, Fox felt the exhaustion setting in again. He didn’t know what it was about that place, but just being in the proximity of it made him numb, and the chancellor’s office always seemed to drain him of all of his energy. It’s not exactly like it was a pleasant workplace, so he attributed most of his suffering to that fact.
He could feel the caf wearing off with every drawn out second, and although he wanted to see his batchmate, he wasn’t sure he should risk what would happen if he stayed for a moment longer than he needed to. Fox straightened up and began his report.
“We’re sorry for the wait, general. The prisoner is being escorted to a temporary cell, and the trial will begin in ten standard days. Once your report has been filed, we can take the case off your hands entirely. The Republic thanks you for your cooperation,” Fox recited mechanically, his duties practically muscle memory for him now.
“And we thank you for your diligence, commander,” Plo responded, seemingly amused by the clone’s formality, “How has the guard been treating you, Fox?”
“Very well, sir. They’re good men,” Fox responded, knowing fully well that he was dodging the real question. He didn’t want to talk too much about work or the chancellor, because then he’d have to lie–and that was exhausting, especially to a Jedi as perceptive as Plo Koon.
“Indeed–some of the best,” Plo added proudly, before he fell comfortable into a more conversational tone, updating Fox on some of the 104th’s recent missions.
Fox loved and respected Plo Koon, he really did, but he found his mind drifting as he tried to cling to the last shreds of his attention span.
He stared ahead blankly as he tried to train his swimming vision. The Jedi must have felt him zoning out, as he trailed off from his story about Wolffe chasing after rogue droids, and tilted his head questioningly.
Fox knew he couldn’t keep the helmet on for much longer without raising suspicion. He took the bucket off, and held it at his side. He looked away when he saw the look Plo Koon was giving him.
“You look tired, Fox,” Plo sighed, and Fox rolled his eyes.
“You sound like my brothers, sir.”
“Then your brothers are quite astute.”
“It’s nothing,” Fox defended, knowing he’d never escape if Plo thought there was a clone in need of his help, “Just had too much caf earlier. I’ll sleep it off when I get back to the barracks.”
It was a lie, especially since he now knew he had a whole day shift ahead of him, but he pretended to believe it for a moment. It put him at ease, and it seemed to work just enough on the Jedi too.
“I successfully intervened with Wolffe’s caf addiction some time ago, perhaps you too would benefit from a… what did Derma call it? A ‘detox’ yes.”
“Yeah, just look at how long that lasted,” Sinker commented from beside the Jedi, and Boost suppressed a laugh.
“Has Wolffe continued his caf intake without my knowledge?” Plo asked, and the pair looked guilty.
“Ah, I will have to speak with him…” the Jedi said resolutely, but the humour and endearment in his voice was clear as day.
Fox laughed aloud, but the sound in his own ears made him dizzy.
As Plo Koon continued to speak, the nausea didn’t fade like it had earlier. Fox felt a vague rush of panic as the Jedi’s voice seemed to fade into the background, and he struggled to focus on the present as his ears rang. Black crept into the edges of his vision, the artificial light on the bridge encroaching painfully like a vibroknife to his skull.
Maybe I should sit down, he thought distantly as he reached for the edge of a control console, but it was too late to stabilise himself now, already seeing stars.
All too quickly, the floor raced up to meet him.
-
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but he could faintly feel hands fussing around him and hushed voices surrounding him. When he finally regained some sensibility to crack his eyes open, he found that his armour had been removed and he now lay in his blacks, with Plo Koon and Vet, one of the 104th’s medics, at either side of him.
“You’re looking at me like I’m on my deathbed,” he grumbled, and Plo Koon’s furrowed brow seemed to relax slightly.
“How do you feel, commander?” the medic asked, and Fox rolled his eyes.
“I’m fine. I’m awake now, aren’t I?”
Surprisingly, they let him try to sit up, and even managed to help him to lean against the back of a control console.
Then, he realised miserably as the medic grabbed him by his waist, they pulled him to his feet, and he swayed unsteadily.
“We’re taking you to the medbay, Fox, just let us guide you,” Plo Koon explained patiently, but Fox shook his head frantically.
“I- I should get back to work-” Fox argued, already fearing the consequences of being gone too long–and of showing weakness in front of the whole bridge. The chancellor would not be happy to hear about this.
“Oh, Fox,” Plo Koon muttered, his concern evident as he secured the shaking commander with a gentle hand, while Vet refused to release his vice grip around his waist.
“I can stand, sir,” Fox defended half-heartedly, but he was already leaning most of his weight on the Jedi and medic. He made an involuntary grunt of dismay as they began leading him off the bridge.
“Would you find Wolffe for us?” Plo asked softly to a nearby trooper who immediately nodded and set off on the task. Fox lifted his heavy head to count his witnesses, but their faces blurred together. He tried to blink away the bleariness, but his vision only swam more.
Vet continued to tug him forward, but Fox felt like he’d left his stomach behind. He was hot and itchy, then awfully wrong, like in the moment just before a shuttle begins to free fall.
They entered the blinding light of the ship corridor, and Fox conceded to the dread.
“Hey, stop-” He panted, scrambling against his well-meaning captors.
“We’re just tryna help, sir,” Vet said flatly, almost like he was talking to a shiny and not the commander of the Coruscant guard, and Fox shook his head, swallowing back bile.
“I- I have to-” Fox stopped as he gagged, and tried to wrench a hand free from their grasp to cover his mouth, but he was too weak to fight their grip.
His stomach lurched, and he doubled over and threw up on the durasteel floor, wincing at the sound. Great, now the whole bridge knows I’m chucking my guts up.
He tried to steady himself against the wall, and was thankful then for Vet’s stabilising hold around his middle. He shuddered with dreadful anticipation as his stomach cramped and he gagged, knowing there was more where that came from. Screwing his eyes shut, the next wave of nausea met him painfully, and he brought up more bile that burned his throat mercilessly.
“Fuck,” he gasped, trying not to think about how much of a mess he must look–and how much of a mess he was making of his brother’s ship.
He grabbed Plo’s hand from where he’d been rubbing soothing circles into the commander’s back, and squeezed it tight to get his attention.
“Wolffe…” he began hoarsely, interrupting himself with painful coughs and an obnoxious hiccup.
“He will be here soon, Fox. Can you hold on for us?”
“Don’t know if you noticed,” Fox said through gritted teeth, “But it’s not as simple as ‘holding on’, sir.”
The Jedi only shushed him comfortingly as they gave up on moving him just yet, letting him lean against the blissfully cool walls, a stark contrast to his burning skin.
“Hey, vod.”
Fox perked up at the sound of his brother’s voice, looking up perhaps too quickly to meet Wolffe’s eyes. His brother’s expression was hard to read, and Fox couldn’t help but look away, face burning hot.
“I’m acting like a cadet, I know,” Fox admitted gruffly, and Wolffe made a sound of disapproval.
“No, you look like you’re in pain, vod.”
Fox laughed hoarsely.
“Is that supposed to be a surprise?”
Wolffe ignored him, instead turning to his medic.
“Medbay, now” Wolffe snapped, and Fox felt the grip around his waist tighten again. He tried to ignore the persistent churning of his stomach, and focused all of his energy on putting one foot in front of the other.
Wolffe led the way, and Fox began to lose track of where they were after the first couple of turns. The corridors felt never-ending, stretching out before him in dizzying confusion, his vision tilting and blurring. Panic began to rise in his throat and he tried to gasp out a warning, but no words left his mouth.
He managed two more steps before his knees buckled, and he braced for a burst of pain that thankfully never came.
There were voices and movement around him, but he screwed his eyes shut against the light.
“Fox? Fox!”
The urgency faded as Fox felt his consciousness slip away, met by a miserable ache that gave way to a temperamental peace.
-
Fox awoke more peacefully than he ever had. As he blinked away the drowsiness, a vaguely familiar ceiling filled his vision. The… Jedi temple?
He was greeted by a whisper, then a gentle hand running through his hair, and as he came to his senses he recognised the voice. His vod.
“Hey, about time you woke up,” Wolffe grinned, and met Fox with a bone-crushing hug.
“Ugh, stop or I’ll pass out again,” Fox protested, but he returned the smile as Wolffe released him.
Then he noticed Cody on his other side, looking guilty and resigned to seriousness. He must have gotten back from a mission recently, as his armour hadn’t been touched up just yet.
“Kote… aren’t you still recovering? You should be lying down, dikut.” Fox reached his hand out to Cody, who took it gladly, but still frowned.
“It’s fine, it’s been a few weeks,” Cody explained, “But you, Fox… when I called you the other week, you seemed tired, I just… I didn’t think to ask, or…”
Fox scoffed, “I’m always tired, don’t worry about it.”
“Exactly- one of us should have pointed it out. I should have said something, vod,” Cody insisted, almost… teary-eyed?
Fox sighed, hating seeing his batchmates so caught up over his own mistakes. This was just the reality of war–surely Cody knew that, of all his brothers?
“Hey, we’re all busy. And anyway, I’m recovering, aren’t I?” Fox asked, and Cody nodded, regaining a slight smile at seeing his brother awake again.
“You had us pretty worried though, vod,” Wolffe added, “Even Ponds was considering taking some time away if you didn’t wake up soon.”
“And he would have been a dikut if he did,” Fox said, almost raising his voice, “We all have our duties, and while I appreciate the effort… I won’t be offended if some of you couldn’t afford to come and cry at my bedside. Having you guys here… it doesn’t have to be all of us. You two are enough for my stupid shebs, alright?” Fox said, with reassurances being an unfamiliar but not unpleasant taste in his mouth.
“Actually, there’s someone else here to see you,” Wolffe said, and Fox followed his gaze to the far corner of the room, where Plo Koon was waiting patiently.
“Oh.” Fox stiffened. “How come?”
“He just wanted to ask you something. Don’t worry, he won’t bite, vod,” Wolffe reassured him as he and Cody stood up and began to make their way out.
“Yeah, obviously,” Fox muttered, watching his brothers leave, and the Jedi approach his bedside. Fox wasn’t sure why, but he found himself automatically putting his callous front back up.
“So, what’s the diagnosis? Whiny Little Hut’uun syndrome?” Fox asked, and Plo gave him a warning look.
“Actually, we are not certain,” Plo said as he moved to sit at Fox’s side, “You showed signs of exhaustion, but your condition continued to deteriorate even when you were resting in the medbay. When we moved you to the temple, your improvement vastly increased–even when we began with the same treatment.”
“Wait, what?” Fox asked, frowning, “How the kriff does that work?”
“Well,” Plo continued, “We believe you may have been experiencing force exhaustion, alongside your physical exhaustion. It would explain why only Jedi healers and our temple could improve your condition.”
“Right.” Fox was confused, and it wasn’t just from the headache. “But I’m not a Jedi.”
“Of course,” Plo clarified, endeared by Fox’s confusion, “There is more than one way for someone’s life force to be drained to the point of force exhaustion. The first is through over-exertion of one’s own connection to the force, this is the way you may be familiar with. The other way is… less common–typically it is only practised by a sith. It is caused by a force-user preying on another’s lifeforce.”
Fox sat in silence, trying to process what this meant for him.
“Right… well you can’t just search the whole population for a sith, right? Otherwise we would have sniffed out Dooku much earlier.”
“Indeed. We have narrowed it down, and we believe that perhaps one of the prisoners is aligned with the sith, and that could be why this is affecting the Coruscant guard more than any other battalion. But that is only a theory.” Plo Koon looked determined, and Fox was, for once, not bored by the insight into the force’s workings. It would explain a lot if it was true–Fox always did feel better when he was off-world.
“So… what happens now?”
Plo Koon sat up straighter at the question, as if he had been waiting for him to ask.
“I have made it my mission to find the cause of this phenomenon–which is why I’m here to talk to you. We want to conduct a full investigation of the prison when we have the resources available. Any information you have about this may help protect other clones, it could save our brothers,” Plo expressed.
“Respectfully sir, we’re clones. We know what our purpose is,” Fox responded automatically, already getting a headache thinking about how they could possibly try to convince the chancellor to accept such a ‘misallocation of resources’. He also tried not to dwell on the warm feeling he got from this Jedi so willingly placing himself with the clones, rather than above them.
“And I must respectfully disagree. You are not machines; you are good men. No man is exempt from the need for leisure and support.” Plo spoke with a passion and patience that was hard to dismiss. Still, deflecting was in the commander’s nature.
“Yeah, I stopped fantasising about leisure after my first 24 hour shift with the guard,” Fox laughed.
He half-expected to hear the usual suppressed snicker from Thorn, but he guessed his humour didn’t land so well with the Jedi. When he glanced up, he was met with a sorrowful look, and Fox’s grin fell.
Normally sympathy would have him rolling his eyes, but there was something both sad and determined about Plo’s silent response that had Fox struggling for a snarky comment to cover up the ache that was growing in his chest.
After a while of Fox avoiding his gaze, feeling suddenly vulnerable, the Jedi spoke up again.
“You deserve better,” Plo insisted, and Fox shook his head, letting out a short, watery laugh. His throat was closing up, and his head hurt with the implications.
Surely, he was supposed to feel like this. Surely all of his brothers did, too? He shook his head, overwhelmed.
“No, I- we were built, for…” Fox began, but as soon as he felt the first tear run down his cheek, he choked up, shaking silently. Plo Koon pulled him gently to lean against him, and Fox began to sob.
He tried to control his breathing, to quiet his choked gasps so he didn’t sound so damn pathetic, but as Plo held him he muttered reassurances to him softly, unwinding all of the composure he tried to bind himself in. Instead, only the Jedi’s arms and a deep sense of catharsis wrapped around him.
“You rob yourself of comfort, Fox. I will not be the one to take it away from you,” Plo spoke quietly, “Allow yourself to feel your pain, and it will fade. If you lock it within you, it will keep you under its influence.”
Fox nodded weakly, his hands shaking as he gripped the back of Plo’s robes. He wondered, faintly, if Wolffe had ever been in this position. Held in comfort after a particularly rough mission, consoled gently through nightmares. And what about the rest of his brothers? Did Obi-Wan ever wipe tears from Cody’s cheeks? Did Aayla ever hold Bly’s hand while they mourned lost troopers?
And where had Fox been in all of this?
Getting threatened in the chancellor’s office, probably.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, it struck him.
He sat up.
Plo Koon watched him tentatively, hands still held out to support him if he needed it.
Fox’s mind was still reeling over his realisation, so much that it took him a moment to register that the Jedi was still there, hoping for some kind of explanation.
“Hey, so, this is going to sound strange,” Fox said, voice still hoarse after the last few tearful minutes, “But I don’t think we need to do that prison investigation.”
Plo tilted his head, saying nothing, but inviting Fox to share his thoughts. Fox almost wanted to laugh.
“I know who the sith lord is.”