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Chapter Text

Fox’s night went pretty much how it always did. Fill out ridiculous amounts of paperwork, dodge Carrion’s attempts to get him down to the medbay, sneak Grizzer a few treats while Hound wasn’t looking and couldn’t call him soft, head down to 79’s to break up a brawl, then collapse back in his office and try not to go catatonic before he could finish filing his reports. 

Unlike other nights, he’d been jarred out of his paperwork induced haze by a very pissed off sounding vod alerting him to the presence of one Commander Wolffe. 

He should’ve expected it, in retrospect. He thought Wolffe would’ve been the type to let his men sit the night out in the drunk tank like Cody and Bacara, but of course he’d come knocking on Fox’s door just when Fox wanted him least.

Fox sighed, rolled his shoulders, and ignored the twinge in his right arm where he’d strained it chasing a suspect down, having had to grab onto the speeder as it was already in motion, nearly dislocating his arm. His excuse to Carrion was just that he’d had worse. 

Fox sent back an affirmative, saying he’d meet Wolffe and Prag, the vod on desk duty, down in the lobby in a moment. He glanced around his office, locating his bucket where it had sat, untouched for hours underneath the mountain of datapads Palpatine had sent him back with, shoved it on, and got going. 

As he rounded the corner to the main hall, he slowed his pace, not really wanting to deal with his brother right now. It had been a long week, they’d had two more disappearances, and Fox had been running himself ragged trying to keep up with his usual duties, his personal investigation into the missing guards, and the additional paperwork the Chancellor loved to drop on his desk. He knew what he looked like under his helmet, and it sure as hell wasn’t pretty. 

Despite his best efforts at dragging his feet, Wolffe spotted him before Prag did, raising a hand in greeting. At least he didn’t look too upset, unlike some commanding officers who had to come fetch their men ( Rex ).

“Vod,” Wolffe greeted him with a smile. It was a nice change from how the majority of the 104th conducted themselves around him. 

“Wolffe,” Fox said, as warmly as he could manage running on two and a half days of no sleep, “Sorry about the late call.”

His brother shrugged, “I should’ve known they’d get up to trouble. I can never seem to keep them away from the action.”

Fox laughed shortly, not really finding it funny. They’d gone after Corries, after all. 

“What happened?”

“Your men-” Prag began, venom already dripping in his voice before Fox cut in. If Fox remembered correctly, one of his batchmates had been involved, and the already short-tempered man wasn’t happy to hear the news. 

“-had a little too much to drink. Corries tried to get them out after the barkeep cut them off and it escalated from there.”

“Shit,” Wolffe sighed, “Sorry about that. We had a rough go on Ryloth, I probably should’ve kept a better eye on them.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, and everyone in the room knew it. 

The GAR and the Guard had an impossible tension between the two these days. Since the war had picked up speed, the men in the GAR were getting resentful, less respectful. A lot of them outright hated the Guard for having the ‘easy job.’ Everytime Fox heard that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or hit something. 

“You got the footage?”

Prag was only too happy to pull it up, and had Fox not been in the presence of his twin, he would’ve smacked what he knew was an entirely too smug look off his face. They had too many problems with relations with the GAR to start getting cocky when their boys got caught doing shit they shouldn’t. 

Wolffe watched intently, likely taking note of the who and where, his eyes narrowing as he heard what his men were saying. Fox had already gone over the footage, heard their drunken insults, and honestly it wasn’t anything creative.

‘Meat droid’ had been thrown in their face by nearly every senator and citizen alike at this point, just because it hurt a little more coming from the people who shared the same DNA as you didn’t mean it actually hurt. 

Wolffe muttered something under his breath as one of his took the first swing, clocking a Guard right in the jaw. Fox had barely been able to arrive in time to subdue an all out bar fight. His appearance on the screen marked the end of the tape, leaving Wolffe to sag and turn apologetically. 

“I’ll see to it they’re punished accordingly,” he put a hand on Fox’s shoulder, making it ache again as Fox stiffened, “I swear, it won’t happen again.” It most definitely would. If not Wolffe’s men, then Neyo’s or Bly’s. 

“We can get them out tonight,” Fox responded in lieu of an actual answer as he brushed Wolffe’s hand off and ignored the way his brother looked curiously at him, “Prag can draw up the paperwork for you while I bring them here and release them into your custody. From there, it’s up to you.”

Wolffe scrubbed a hand through his hair, glancing back at the frozen image of Fox putting himself between the two sides, a hand on either man in front’s chest.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “yeah, let’s get it over with.”

Fox nodded to Prag, who got busy on his pad, before turning on his heel, letting them know he’d be back in a bit. The drunk tank wasn’t too far away really, but with the state Wolffe’s men had been in, it would take a second to get them all sorted. 

It was a good thirty minutes of shuffling, the two guards on duty looking at Fox with a mixture of exhaustion and pleading, and a few more insults thrown his way just for good measure before Fox was able to lead the troupe of four back to where Wolffe was waiting. 

For his part, the commander was just standing there, his face set with hard lines that Fox had been familiar with ever since they were cadets on Kamino as his cybernetic eye zoomed in and out a few times, assessing each individual soldier. 

“Back to the barracks,” he ordered, “Once I’m done here we’ll be discussing the rest of your leave and lack thereof.”

“But Commander-” one of the boys in gray started up before Wolffe glared even harder. 

“You really want to test me tonight, Boost?” Wolffe nearly spat, “Do what you’re told for once in your goddamn life and make it easy on the rest of us.”

The man in question, Boost, shrunk at the sharp reprimand, the rest silently following suit.

“I can send an escort with them,” Fox offered, “They’re still in a bit of a state.”

“We don’t need a fucking pencil pusher to-”

“Enough!” Wolffe snapped, “Not only will you all be punished for what you did tonight, unprovoked , I might add, but you’ll each be sending an apology to Commander Fox and the guards who were forced to arrest you. Yes, I saw the tape, don’t even try to argue with me.” Wolffe turned to Fox now, softening slightly, “They can find their own way back. And if they get into trouble, that’s on them to figure out.”

Fox’s gut churned. Clones wandering the streets of Coruscant were not often treated kindly, especially not with how disorderly this crew had been. He may not like them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to add them to the list of men taken after hours.

“Wolffe,” Fox called, a little quieter and a lot more serious, “I’m sending them with an escort.” He sent off a quick message to two of his own men before Wolffe could protest further, before considering the situation handled. 

Wolffe scowled, but backed off, telling his men to wait with Prag and that if they caused any more trouble, he was bringing it to the General. This was apparently a sufficient enough threat, as they all looked adequately shamed. 

Fox nodded gratefully, waiting quietly with the odd group until two guards showed up to take them home. To his dismay, Wolffe stayed with Fox while they headed out, folding his arms over his chest as he watched his men go. 

“Something else you needed?”

Wolffe eyed him quietly for a moment before saying, “Let’s talk in your office.”

Prag made a few hand signals behind where Wolffe could see, the general signs asking if Fox wanted a little help here. 

Fox sighed again, “I’m busy, Wolffe. As long as whatever it is doesn’t take too long, that's fine.” Prag was making a face at him right now, he just knew it. 

Wolffe gave him another look before nodding and agreeing. 

They walked in silence to his office, Fox too tired to say anything and Wolffe keeping his mouth shut for once in his short life. When they reached the room, Wolffe let out a low whistle at the stack of paperwork on Fox’s desk, before looking around the space. 

It was nice, honestly. Probably because it had been built before the clones moved in, but Fox would take a victory where he could get it. The large window his desk faced and the shower with real running water was one hell of a blessing for everything he had to deal with as a commander. 

“Can I help you?” Fox sat heavily in his chair, clearing off a little space on the desk so he could rest his arms there, “Or is this just a for fun visit?”

Wolffe frowned at him as he sat on the large, poorly stuffed couch Fox kept around for a certain idiot Jedi and his pushy commanding officers, “You left the group chat.”

Of course. Of course that’s what this was about. 

Fox did his best to feign nonchalance, “We’re not allowed to have private channels on Republic equipment, you know that. Your generals may let you get away with it, but my superiors are a bit more critical.”

Wolffe closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose loudly, “Look, I know we maybe took it a little too far. But you’re our brother, Fox. We care about you.”

Fox scoffed, “Why are you here Wolffe? You got your men, you made sure I’m still alive, and it’s well past your bedtime, what’s going on?”

“Little gods - Fox, I’m just trying to make sure everything’s fine.” Wolffe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Cody wanted to be the one to talk to you but he’s not back on shore leave for another month, so just…just be honest with me, vod’ika.”

“Not your vod’ika.” They were twins, dammit.

“Fox,” Wolffe paused, his face scrunching up like it usually did when he was thinking too hard about whatever he wanted to say next, “Can you please take off your helmet? This is weird, talking to you like you’re Seventeen or some shit.”

Fox hesitated, but Wolffe was getting upset, and the last thing he needed was for his brother to report back to the others about Fox’s incompetent stubbornness. He yanked his helmet off, plopping it down in the space between them and scowled.

“Better?”

“When’s the last time you slept?” Wolffe demanded, and this was why Fox didn’t want to take it off. Everyone always pegged Cody as the mother hen of the group, and while it wasn’t untrue, Wolffe had him beat by a mile. 

“It was a long shift,” Fox deadpanned. He knew it was more than that. He had a black eye and a new scar on his jaw none of his batch had seen, and he could see Wolffe cataloging both injuries, probably taking pictures or some shit with his stupid new eye. 

Wolffe gritted his teeth, “When’d you get the scar?”

Fox dodged the question, asking back, “I thought Cody was supposed to be here in a week, what happened?”

Wolffe narrowed his eyes, “If you’d rejoin the chat-”

“I really can’t,” Fox gave him a tight smile, the kind reserved for someone who’d pissed him off, “Senate orders and all that.”

“Skywalker did his usual thing,” Wolffe admitted after about thirty seconds of what Fox was pretty sure was a breathing exercise. Maybe having a Jedi was a good influence on him, who would’ve thought. Regardless, that was explanation enough. Fox kept up with reports often enough to know exactly what Skywalker was like and how often his plans worked out the way they were supposed to. Part of him pitied Rex. 

Fox drummed his fingers lightly on the desktop as he searched Wolffe’s expression. He’d left the group chat after they all joined in making fun of the guard after the disaster with Cad Bane and Ziro the Hutt. Fox had been directly involved, and they all knew it too. He was once again, the butt of the joke, the incompetent one, the batchmate that just couldn't cut it. 

He was fucking tired of it, and while the decision had been made under the influence of the strongest moonshine the Corries had to offer and less than two hours of sleep, he couldn’t say he regretted it. He still kept tabs on all of them, checked up on their medical files, watched the fleet movements as often as he could. He just couldn’t handle the thought of them thinking he was just as fucked up as everyone said the Corries were. 

“Fox,” Wolffe tried again once it was clear Fox wasn’t going to say anything, “We’re sorry, okay? What happened tonight, what happened with Ponds’ men last time, it’s not a reflection of what we think.”

Fox was quiet again, wondering how much he could let Wolffe in without suddenly having his office crawling with concerned batchmates. Wolffe took his silence as something else, sighing and making a move to stand up. 

“Three men went missing this week,” Fox admitted quietly, making Wolffe freeze in place, “It’s why I didn’t want yours walking back alone.”

“What?”

“That brings the count up to ten total,” he sighed, his shoulders finally losing some of their rigidity as the truth began to spill out, “The Senate won’t investigate because it isn’t costing them enough money yet, and a formal investigation would only cost more.” He paused, remembering a slight detail and laughed bitterly, “Well, technically we found the first one.”

“Fox-”

“Just shut up. I’m not repeating myself so either listen or get out.” He waited, staring his brother down. 

Wolffe stayed.

“His name was Scorch,” Fox looked away, down at where his helmet rested, tracing the grooves and paint markings with his fingertips, “Whoever it was either has a sick sense of humor or is just a real asshole because the official cause of death was from the burns.” It had been nauseating to look at. Even Carrion, who, as head medic, was usually unshakeable, had to stop and stare in shock and horror.  “But it was obvious they’d done more than that.” The autopsy report revealed at least three kinds of torture the kid had gone through before he’d succumbed.

Fox scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion hit him, “I’m trying to find the rest but…” 

But there was nothing. No leads, no crime scene DNA, no scent for the massifs to latch on to. Even Vos was having a hard time with this one. 

“Fox’ika-”

“ Don’t call me that,” he snarled, jerking his head back up to look at his bewildered brother, “I’m not some shiny fresh off the transport, I know what I’m dealing with here. And that’s nothing compared to-” his snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, but not fast enough. 

Wolffe’s eyes were wide, his hand paused in mid air where he’d been about to lay it on Fox’s forearm.

Fox slumped in his chair, the fight leaving him in an instant, “It’s fine, Wolffe. There’s nothing you could do about it whether you wanted to or not.”

“It’s not fine!” Wolffe said harshly, “How can you say that? These are your men, Fox, don’t you want to help them?”

“You really think I don’t care?” His words came out softer than either man was prepared for. 

Fox had been trying so hard for so long. But there wasn’t an enemy here to shoot and be done with. There was darkness lingering in every corner, every senate hall, every part of the Guard complex. They couldn’t get tattoos to show individuality because being an individual was just as dangerous here as on Kamino, and haircuts were absolutely out of the question. No one ever patrolled alone on the streets, much less in the Senate rotunda. They had less resources than any other sector in the GAR, because they were here. On the home front. It didn’t matter that they were wrapping wounds with bed sheets and hadn’t seen bacta in months. It didn’t matter they only got one full meal per day, or that Stone was training shinies, kids , to fight in underground rings so they could afford things like food for massifs. 

It didn’t matter that Senators dragged clones back to their private offices, expecting nothing but total obedience for whatever they’d planned that day. 

The Guard was alive, surviving despite everything being against them. Fox couldn’t take all the credit, but little gods he was trying. He knew his batchmates wouldn’t understand. That’s why he left their chat and slowly stopped showing up to nights at 79’s. Not because he was mad, because he knew they would never understand.

Wolffe sighed, “There was a time we told each other everything. Talk to me Fox, what’s going on? What’s worse than your men being tortured and burned to death? What is happening ?”

Fox clenched his jaw. He wasn’t so prideful that he was keeping things secret out of something like anger or jealousy. He knew what happened to the ones who told outsiders, who reached for help. Most of their names and numbers were sitting in a file labeled “Decommissions.”

“Please,” Fox jerked his head up. Wolffe never begged, “You’ve got a new scar, missing men, and we haven’t talked in months.”

“Scar’s from a prison riot,” he lied easily, “And I have help with the men. You all have made it clear what you think of my position and my guards.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means all of you have my private frequency. You didn’t have to add me to the chat to talk to me. You wouldn’t even have come if I hadn’t been forced to arrest your men, you said it yourself.” Fox said it like it was all factual, because it was. There was nothing behind his tone because there didn’t need to be. If he wanted to get angry, he’d have to wait until it was just him, a bottle of contraband, and the deep silence of his office to keep him company. 

Wolffe sputtered, obviously coming up empty. Fox just watched him scramble for an explanation, a good reason to smooth away the hurt Fox was very much not feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, putting some weight behind those words, “We didn’t - it’s hard enough to keep up with each other. You know that’s why we have the chat, so everyone’s in one place and it’s easier.”

Fox cut him off before he could say more, “I’m aware. But you can’t come to me complaining about how I left when none of you even tried.”

“And you did?” And there was that familiar anger his twin was so known for, “You never reached out to us either. You stopped coming by the barracks, you never come to the bar anymore, you just gave up on us Fox! What were we supposed to do?”

Fox snorted, “The last time all of you were here I was in the medbay with shrapnel stuck in my chest. Don’t act like all I do is sit on my ass and-”

“Shrapnel in your chest?” Wolffe’s voice was incredulous, his eyes zeroing in on Fox’s chest plate, “That was two months ago Fox, what the hell ?”

Before Fox could realize the full extent of his mistake, Wolffe was moving around the desk, reaching for the straps that would strip his armor away. Fox shoved his chair backwards, the wheels squeaking pitifully, leaving Wolffe with his hands outstretched and looking at Fox with a combination of pity, horror, and confusion. 

“Let me see,” Wolffe started moving towards him again, giving Fox just enough time to stand and move further away. 

“No,” he snarled, “You want to know what happened, read the report. Otherwise fuck off.” Before he realized what Wolffe was doing, his brother was tapping away at his comm and a mini blue version of Ponds and Cody appeared hovering over his wrist.

“ Wolffe -”

“Ponds, Kote, I’m here with Fox,” Wolffe ignored his sharp reprimand, choosing instead to glare again at his offending chest plate, “He says he’s just recovered from getting shrapnel stuck in his chest.”

“I haven’t-”

“He what?!” Cody burst out, yanking his helmet off and turning to face Fox.

“Fox’ika,” Ponds started, a little slower as he joined Cody in giving him a once over, “How the hell did that happen?”

“He’s also got nine missing men, one tortured until he eventually gave in, a new scar, a black eye, and I’m sure more he’s hiding from me and his medics,” Wolffe continued to rat him out, Fox making indignant noises in the background. 

“I’ll repeat myself,” Ponds said coolly, “What the hell happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fox said through gritted teeth, “I have it under control.”

“Tell me you let them put you in a tank,” Cody said, sounding half exhausted and half pissed off, “I know you hate it but something like this calls for it.”

“We don’t have bacta tanks,” Fox responded tiredly. They knew this, “We’re Guard, remember?”

“The fuck do you mean you don’t have bacta tanks?”

“Fox,” Ponds cut in before he and Cody could really get going, “Everyone, the Guard included, is mandated to have bacta tanks in the medical bays. You know the protocol as well as any of us.”

Fox rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, “Not since the last round of military budget cuts.”

His batchmates went silent.

“What else did they cut?” Wolffe’s tone was low, dangerous. The kind of voice he used when he was about to do or say something eligible for decommissioning. 

“It doesn’t matter-”

“I’m calling bullshit ori’vod,” Cody snarled, “We haven’t had a cut in almost a year, I didn’t even know there was a budget cut. Now what else did they take?”

He was opening his mouth to respond, probably with something incredibly mean and nasty, when the soft sound of the window opening had Wolffe whirling around, taking the comm away as he drew his blaster and aimed it at the cloaked idiot crawling inside.

“Wolffe, don’t-”

“Get behind me!” Wolffe fired a warning shot, startling Vos so hard he tumbled the window, fell flat on his ass, and groaned into the carpet.

 Fox rolled his eyes, moving around the arm Wolffe had flung out protectively, and stood judgmentally over his Jedi.

“Didn’t you know you had company tonight, Vixen.” His voice was muffled as his face was still mushed into the carpet. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to sense that shit?”

Quinlan rolled over, a wide but tired grin on his face as he got comfortable on Fox’s floor, “Nice to see you too. How was your day? Mine was spent thinking really hard about what faces Master Yoda makes during sex and seeing how long it took Kit to crack during the Council meeting.”

Fox rolled his eyes and stuck a hand down to him, hauling him up to his feet, “You’re so fucking weird.”

“Love you too,” he gave Fox a wink and a pat on the cheek, narrowly dodging the bite to the offending hand, before walking up to Wolffe, “And who might this be?”

“Wolffe, Vos. Vos, Wolffe,” Fox gestured between the two of them, “And Cody and Ponds are on comms.”

“Cody?” Quinlan perked up, “Obi-Wan’s commander?”

“Fox’s batchmate,” Cody said, unhappy at the intrusion, “And commander of the 212th. Hello again, General Vos.”

Vos looked between them and Fox, finally taking note of the tension in the air, “Not a general,” he said airily, though Fox knew it was more on instinct than anything else, “If you gentlemen don’t mind, Fox and I have a delicate case to discuss. You’ll have to come back another night.”

Fox let out a small breath of relief. He hoped that meant what he thought it did. 

Wolffe glared at Vos, “We’re discussing some delicate matters of our own. I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“Vos has information on the case,” Fox sighed, rubbing his eyes. It would be easier to not have these two parts of his life at each other’s throats, “And my batchmates are worried about the shrapnel incident.”

“Oh,” Quinlan shrugged, relaxing his posture, “Fair enough. How’s the arm by the way?”

“Arm?” Ponds demanded, making Fox deflate slightly.

“I hadn’t told them about that. And it’s fine, thanks for asking. Would love it if you could pass the message along to Carrion,” he grumbled as Quinlan came up to him, trying to poke him in the shoulder while Fox batted his hands away.

“What’s wrong with it?” Cody asked tightly, still looking between Fox and Quinlan, apparently putting the dots together on his own. 

“Grabbed onto a moving speeder in pursuit of a suspect,” Fox explained while trying to be very patient with everyone in the room, “Didn’t even dislocate anything. What do you have for me, Vos?”

“Nope!” Wolffe said far too cheerily, “You’re going to a medic that can give us a full report on your bill of health, the case can wait until morning.”

“Finally,” Vos sighed dramatically, “Someone with a little sense around here.”

Fox narrowed his eyes, “Uh huh. How’s the shattered collarbone doing by the way?”

“We aren’t talking about me,” Quinlan grinned, but tugged his shirt to the side to show off the newly healed bone. Fox stepped forward and prodded it just in case, knowing how good of an actor Quinlan could be when he wanted to. 

Not even a flinch. Dammit. 

“Fox,” Ponds called, getting his attention again, “I’ll be back on Coruscant in five days, I expect to see you when I return.” The very clear demand was there, making Fox roll his eyes. 

This was why he didn’t tell them anything. He knew how to do his job, he didn’t need babysitters waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness. 

Before he could respond, a short, sharp knock sounded at his door. He withheld his sigh of relief, pushing past Wolffe and Quin to go see who it was. 

He barely had time to register Thorn’s familiar armor paint before he was being yanked into the hallway, a half hearted “Excuse us,” being thrown into the office as Thorn guided him outside. 

“Thorn?” Fox asked, slightly worried by the way Thorn’s grip wasn’t letting up. He should be off duty, his shift ended an hour ago. Whatever disturbed him was bound to bring even more trouble to Fox’s door. 

“We’ve got a code eighty-six,” Thorn said quietly, “You’re going to want to see this one.”

Fox immediately snapped into action, “Who was it?”

Thorn hesitated, and a sinking feeling made itself known in Fox’s gut. 

Thorn pulled him out of the main hall around the corner to a smaller one, whipping his bucket off and looking in his eyes, “He’s okay.”

“Thorn,” Fox lowered his voice, “Who was it?”

“I need you to hear me on this one Fox, he’s fine.”

“ Thorn .”

Thorn took a breath, searching Fox’s gaze for a moment, not taking heed of the glare Fox was sending his way. 

“It was Hound,” he finally answered, ignoring Fox’s own intake of breath and tightening the hand on his arm, “Fox, he’s fine.”

Fox ignored him, tugging his arm out of Thorn’s hold and marching down to the medbay, only half aware of the way Thorn scrambled to keep up, “Tell me.”

“We think he was down in the pits again,” Fox cursed because of course, of course he was, especially after Fox told him to lay the fuck off , “Got caught on his way out. He’s got injuries in line with self defense, he didn’t go down without a fight.”

“Where’d you find him?” Fox demanded. 

Thorn got quiet again, and if he didn’t start giving Fox some real answers soon, Fox was going to have him working doubles for the next three weeks. 

“Thorn,” he growled, rounding the corner to their pitiful medical center, “get me some fucking answers or I swear to-”

“They left him on the doorstep,” Thorn admitted, the softness in his voice undercut by the steel edged tone that was half the reason people tended to listen when he spoke. 

Fox burst out into another round of cursing before asking, “How the fuck did that happen? Who let them get that close?”

“We don’t know.”

“Then fucking find out!” Fox stopped in front of the door, trying to reign himself in so Carrion wouldn’t kick him out again. 

“Fox,” Thorn finally snapped, tugging on his shoulder so he’d look at the other man, “He’s fine . No permanent damage, nothing that’s gonna kill him, they managed to stabilize him just as I left to get you.”

Okay. Okay. He needed to calm down. Hound was fine. Thorn wouldn’t lie to him if he wasn’t. 

Fox gave him a short nod, his hand reaching for the entry pad, before he paused and turned back to Thorn. 

“Tell Quin what’s happened. Get Wolffe the fuck out of my office.” He entered before Thorn could say anything else, throwing himself into the constant chaos of their med bay. 

—

Code eighty six. 

A vod had been left alone with a group of violent or otherwise hurtful citizens and suffered extensive damage. 

Usually happened to either command class who stepped in in place of some shinies, or said shinies themselves. 

It hadn’t happened to Hound yet. Fox supposed it was only a matter of time. 

He’d gotten a comm from Wolffe a few hours ago saying he was headed out, and Thorn let him know Quinlan was headed back to the temple. As soon as Fox stepped foot in the med bay, Carrion had someone sticking a sedative on his neck, and he’d missed both departures.

His head medic was kind enough to place him on a cot next to Hound’s, so when he woke he could drag his pathetic, exhausted ass over to a chair next to the bed and wait. Hound was hooked up to a few different things, most notably a ventilator. Fox looked over his chart, the lines on his face deepening as he read over everything. 

A partially collapsed lung, shattered kneecaps, dislocated wrist, multiple lacerations and abrasions, a third degree burn or two - Fox eventually had to put down the chart and just breathe before he worked himself into a panic attack or all consuming rage. It was fifty-fifty at this point which one he would get to first. 

Carrion had flopped down next to him at some point, his eyes glassed over. Fox knew it was bad when he didn’t even comment on Fox’s first appearance in the medbay since Carrion started requesting his presence a week ago. They were both too tired, too worried, too strung out to attempt a conversation, and instead sat in silence, looking at the youngest of the command class on Coruscant. 

Someone brought both of them ration bars and pulled the curtain closed. 

It was times like this Fox would’ve traded anything for a bacta tank, something to help his men instead of having to hook them up to outdated tech they’d bought on the black market. 

Fox wanted to be mad at Hound for going back down to the fighting rings. He wanted to be pissed he’d disobeyed a direct order and put himself and potentially others in danger. He couldn’t. Hound was the only one who hadn’t let Coruscant beat him. In some way, all of the commanders had given in. they let themselves be bent, nearly broken, by the force of this planet, of the senators, of the Chancellor. 

Fox promoted Hound because of his tenacity, his practically, but mostly his unrelenting spirit. He was by far the most positive of them, yes, but he’d seen Hound pulling troopers anyone else would’ve called a lost cause out of some of the roughest situations Fox had seen on Coruscant. He’d put himself in the ring over and over when one of the kids working in his department needed a prosthetic, because not doing so meant decommissioning for the man. He was reckless and stupid and one of the best men Fox had ever met. 

More than that, Fox had him pointed out the first day he arrived on Coruscant as someone with real potential for command. He gave Hound his fair share of shit, but he was the closest Fox had gotten to a little brother since Rex back on Kamino. 

He was faintly aware of his comm beeping as he sat in deep contemplative silence. Thire usually took care of shit on days like this, but with however long Fox had been out he knew he didn’t have much time before he needed to get back to work. 

He blearily raised his comm, a brief moment of surprise flashing across his face as he saw Wolffe had added him back to the batch chat, regardless of his wishes. He had over fifty notifications from that alone, most of them mentioning him directly, of course, and a few more from the Corrie command chat. He opened the command one first, scrolling through Thorn letting everyone know what happened, the picture Stone took of Fox passed out (did he really drool that bad?) when he visited the medbay, and a few logistical notes from Thire. 

Sighing, he opened his chat, preparing himself for the slaughter.

-

Chat log 001

0843AM

Allbarknobite added CC-1010 “Fox” to the chat

Allbarknobite : @ Fox welcome back

Mom : hi fox’ika

Kotayy : good to have you here ori’vod

Securasbitch : when did this happen??

Securasbitch : i mean, glad to see you back ori’vod, but

Securasbitch : thought you were still pissed

Allbarknobite : oh he is

Allbarknobite : hes also dealing with smthn in the guard so i assume he’ll see this later

Baby : why’d you add him back then

Kotayy : rex

Baby : im just curious

Allbarknobite : he's been hiding shit

Allbarknobite : apparently got blown up and didn’t say shit to any of us

Securasbitch : WHAT

Securasbitch : @ Fox

Securasbitch : @ Fox

Securasbitch : @ Fox

Kotayy : he’s fine bly

Kotayy : like wolffe said, something happened with the guard and he got pulled away

Mom : wolffe called cody and i, we talked for a bit but fox has a jedi now

Mom : i guess

Mom : anyways he came in and said fox also fucked up his shoulder

Mom : then one of the commanders, thorn i think, came in and grabbed him and we haven't seen him since

Securasbitch : @ Fox when i see u again im killing u

Allbarknobite : chill out bly

Allbarknobite : something is very wrong on coruscant

Allbarknobite : and i for one would like him alive long enough to tell us what that is

Baby : what do you mean??

Baby : everyone knows corries are safe. that’s the good position

Allbarknobite : i dont think so

Allbarknobite : you guys didnt see him when i first found him

Allbarknobite : it was bad

Allbarknobite : and his jedi was acting like we were the bad guys until i told fox to go to medical

Baby : whos the jedi?

Kotayy : quinlan vos

Baby : oh lmao

Baby : skywalker hates that guy

Securasbitch : that’s gen secura’s master

Securasbitch : i could talk to her and see if she could learn anything

Mom : no

Mom : no sneaking around

Mom : fox needs to tell us upfront

Mom : im not gonna go behind his back and none of u should either

Securasbitch : ok mom

Kotayy : ponds is right

Kotayy : fox wouldn’t tell us anything

Baby : first of all

Baby : @ Fox no offense

Allbarknobite : here we go

Baby : but fox has always been a little closed off

Baby : and we all know he hates anything to do with ~emotions~

Baby : maybe you guys just caught him off guard

Baby : ive sent men to coruscant and they havent contacted me with any problems

Baby : and no one here can deny wolffe is not the best person to draw out the touchy feely side of people

Allbarknobite : 1) fuck you 2) im telling you something is wrong

Allbarknobite : ive never seen fox give up before and when we were talking he just sounded

Allbarknobite : defeated

Allbarknobite : done

CC-1010 “Fox” : everyone piss off

CC-1010 “Fox” changed CC-1010 “Fox” ’s name to Fox

Fox : im fine

Fox : the guard is fine

Fox : good to talk to you too rex

Baby : i wasnt trying to be rude

Fox : congrats, you failed

Kotayy : fox are you okay?

Kotayy : what happened?

Fox : im fine. had an injured trooper thorn wanted me to check on

Mom : im calling bullshit on that one

Mom : what happened

Fox : the trooper was a commanding officer, hence the urgency

Fox : now no offense but if you all only added me back to the chat to shit on how im leading the guard i think im gonna head out again

Allbarknobite : thats not what any of us are saying

Securasbitch : how the fuck did u get blown up

Kotayy : oh yeah i meant to follow up on that

Kotayy sent a file to the chat

Securasbitch : SHRAPNEL??

Securasbitch : IN UR FUCKING STERNUM???

Fox : take a fucking pill bly

Fox : carrion’s a good medic he got it out

Allbarknobite : speaking of which

Allbarknobite : your last bacta delivery was over three months ago

Allbarknobite : gen. koon said we could spare some of ours

Baby : wait what the fuck

Baby : why dont yall have bacta

Fox : military budget got cut

Fox : it was decided since we’re on the home front we have the best position to take resources from

Kotayy : ok but theres shrinking resources and then theres not having bacta

Fox : i dont know what to tell you

Fox : its either you or us and the senate went with us

Baby : i rescind my earlier statement

Baby : your ration shipments are way too low for the amount of men in the guard

Baby : kix is saying this will get everyone a meal and a half a day max

Fox : tell kix hes wrong so fuck off and its one meal a day

Fox : and we have others ways of gathering resources

Fox : @ Allbarknobite do not get your general involved

Mom : fox

Mom : fox’ika

Mom : first, i love you and this has nothing to do with your leading capabilities, given the circumstances youre doing better than most ever would

Mom : second, for the love of god let us help you

Mom : im sorry, we fucked up making fun of you, and from now on if i hear any of my men saying shit about the guard im shutting it down

Kotayy : fox when was the last time you ate

Fox : ration bar, right now. happy?

Allbarknobite : and before that?

Fox : ok what i dont need is a gang of assholes shoving their way in and fucking with what i have going

Fox : we have rules and contingencies in place for a fucking reason

Fox : vos is helping as best he can without making ripples

Fox : because i hate to break it to you but the galaxy doesnt like clones

Fox : you all have no fucking idea what i have to do to keep my men alive and yes rex, i know you send men here, im the one that gets to watch them die

Baby : what

Kotayy : fox

Fox : im sure if i dont say shit wolffe will so ill be as honest as fucking possible

Fox : ive got nine men missing, one body with signs of torture, and one of my commanders was attacked on his way back from the fighting pits last night

Fox : hes got a collapsed lung and who the fuck knows how long its going to take before he can walk again because they shattered both of his fucking knee caps

Fox : the senate wont investigate because clone deaths are just lost money to them, not anything they actually care about and they send god knows how many of my men to be decommissioned on a fairly consistent basis

Fox : i learned to work around it, use dead vod’s numbers for whoever is supposed to be getting sent to kamino, and keep them alive

Fox : i am keeping them alive, okay?

Fox : we train vod for the pits to win money for medical supplies and food, we’ve got systems in place for those that senators prefer to spend alone time with, paint is kept uniform so no single man can get pointed out except the commanders, etc

Fox : i have it under control

-

Fox grit his teeth and shut off his comm, tipping his head back. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn't have said any of that. 

“How much longer is he going to be out for?” he broke the tense silence between him and Carrion, who’d been watching him carefully since he started tapping at his comm. 

“I’m not sure,” Carrion responded after a moment, “I’m keeping him sedated for another day or until he can start breathing on his own. From there, it’s up to him.”

Fox pursed his lips and nodded. Knowing Hound, he’d keep them all on the edge of their seats just for the attention it grants him. He left with a quick request to comm him once Hound was awake, ignoring Carrion calling him back. He needed to be alone. He needed to clear his head and fucking think. 

He looked down as his comm buzzed again, pausing as the door to the hallway swished open. 

-

Chat log 023

0906AM

Wolffe : General Koon is speaking with General Vos now. I’ll come see you once they’re done.

Chapter Text

“What did you tell him?” Fox wasn’t even looking at Quinlan, keeping his head down as he moved through the daily patrol reports. They’d need to station more guards on level 534 if the Pykes kept trying to move in the way they were.

“The truth,” his Jedi responded simply, reclining on his couch like Fox wasn’t wound up tight enough to snap. 

“Which part?” he asked tersely. He and Quinlan had been doing this thing long enough that Fox knew how he tended to dance around certain subjects, leaving just enough information to make a person think they had all the answers. 

Quin shrugged as Fox flicked his gaze up to him for the first time since he clambered through the window with all the grace of a beached aiwha. 

“Vos.” He demanded, sitting up straight and looking him seriously in the eye, “What do I need to be prepared for?”

Quinlan sighed, “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t start with me right now.”

“Baby-”

“Vos.”

“Light of my life-”

“ Quinlan .”

“My guardian angel-”

“For the love of fuck ,” Fox snarled, slamming his datapad down and leaning over his desk threateningly, “What did you tell them?”

Quinlan stretched out lazily, giving Fox a critical once over, “They wanted to know about the budget cuts and decommissioning. I told them the truth.”

Fox backed down slightly, “And that’s it?”

Quinlan nodded, pushing up and off the couch as he sauntered toward the desk, “That’s it.” He leaned down, forcing Fox to look up at him.

Fox tilted his head, meeting his Jedi’s intense gaze head on. This was a familiar game between the two, and not one Fox often lost. 

“You know why we can’t,” Fox said softly, answering the unasked question with an underline of steel in his voice.

Quinlan narrowed his eyes, considering the man in front of him, “I do. I also know there’s more than one way to disseminate information.”

“We’ve been over this,” Fox rose from his chair now too, still an inch or two short of the other man’s height, “If it doesn’t come from one of us, they’ll pin it on some kid and send him off to who knows where. If it does come from us, I’ll outlive my usefulness, and they’ll just accuse you of working with Dooku again. The Council may not believe it, but the Senate will .”

Quinlan leaned in just a little closer, bridging the gap just slightly, “You worry too much.”

Fox sighed, dropping his head and squeezing his eyes shut, “We can’t.”

“Fox,” Quin called softly, fitting a hand under his chin and making him look up into the Jedi’s eyes, “Wolffe said you’ve been hiding things from me too.”

Fox fell silent. He had. Of course he had. How was he supposed to explain what the senators made them do in the dark? How was he supposed to explain that his scar wasn’t from anything even close to a prison riot? Quinlan met him when it was already happening and the scar was pink and fresh on his face. 

“We promised we’d talk to each other about this stuff,” Quinlan reminded him, “I let you help me, you let me help you, right?”

“Right,” Fox sighed, his voice hoarse, “I know.”

“Hey,” Quin moved his hand from Fox’s chin to his cheek, “I worry about you. And I need you to be honest with me.”

“I know,” Fox breathed, “I do, I just…I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly.

“Talk to me,” Quinlan said easily, smiling a little for the first time since they started talking, “That’s all. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Fox’s face grew pinched again and he pushed away, “I don’t need you to save me. I’m doing fine .”

“No, you’re not.” Quinlan paused, losing the posturing look in his eyes and relaxing his shoulders, “I’m not trying to save you, I know you can do that yourself. I’m just trying to help you.”

Fox huffed in frustration, turning so he could face away from the irritatingly calm man in front of him. He didn’t understand why Quinlan, of all people, couldn’t get where he was coming from on all of this. 

He’d called in Stone, Thire and Thorn, told Prag and Vis to keep Wolffe out if he showed up, and had a talk about where to go from here. Thorn was in favor of letting the Jedi help, Stone thought it would just bring more shit down on their heads, and Thire was somewhere in between. Which left Fox exactly where he started when he cracked and took it out on his batch. 

Speaking of, Fox had tried leaving the chat several times, only to be re-added and cussed out in increasingly creative fashions each time. He finally settled on muting them and ignoring the individual attempts to get him on a call with them. 

“You know Master Plo is waiting in the lobby right?”

Fox whipped around, glaring at his Jedi, “Don’t you dare.”

Quinlan held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, “Not a threat Vixen, just trying to see what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that I’m about to lose most of my men because I got too emotional,” Fox sneered, “I should have kept my goddamn mouth shut.”

In all honesty, he didn’t know what was about to happen. The Jedi were bound by law to the Senate at least until the end of the war, which would probably be never at the rate it was going. They couldn’t realistically do anything to help, and Senators who had attempted to help the clones, such as Organa and Chuchi, were often shut down by lobbyists or senate committees almost immediately. That in combination with how the GAR reacted to the Guard meant Fox couldn’t just send some of his boys off to Cody or Ponds, because chances were they’d just be mocked and left behind, this time by their own flesh and blood. 

“We could get Senator Amidala to speak with the Chancellor,” Quinlan suggested, like he didn’t know how much of a front the Chancellor put on for the public, “He essentially mentored her, he would listen if she spoke.”

“We both know he wouldn’t,” Fox said, suddenly too tired for this conversation, “He’s been pushing work off on me and the other commanders for months and the Republic has never run smoother.” Plus there was the matter of all of his secret missions, decomm orders, and threats made to keep them in order. But Quinlan didn’t know about that either. 

“What’s been going on with the senators?” 

The casual way Quinlan asked did nothing to stop Fox from freezing up. 

“Nothing,” he said after a second, “Everything’s fine.”

That was the answer. That was always the answer whenever someone asked. 

Quinlan hummed, moving around so he was in front of Fox again, “I know, Fox,” he said gently, ignoring the way it stupidly made Fox’s eyes hot, “I did some recon last night after we talked. I’ve taken the names of the biggest instigators and myself and some others will deal with them discreetly.”

“Quin, you can’t-” Fox’s chest began to tighten, his vision blurring as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“I can,” Quinlan reassured him, “And I will.”

“No,” his voice broke as he began to shake, “No, you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” Quinlan pressed their foreheads together, so similar to how it was with his batch that the familiar comfort was almost enough to let Fox fall into the other man. 

Little gods he missed them. 

“They’ll take them away,” Fox said after a moment of fighting with himself, “They’ll take away whoever they think the leak was, they’ll make me sign the order and I won’t have a choice.” He looked his Jedi seriously in the eye, “They’ll take away my brothers , Quinlan.”

Quinlan kissed him softly, so very unlike their usual dynamic. 

They’d always been fiery, pushing and pulling the way they needed to, in a way they could control. They both knew whatever was going on was more than sex, more than help with cases or keeping each other sane. 

This was as close to voicing that as either of them had gotten so far. 

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Quinlan swore, “I don’t care if we have to evacuate the entire damn complex, we will not leave you here to suffer.”

Fox wanted to believe him so badly. 

“Baby,” Quinlan sighed, wrapping an arm around Fox’s waist and pulling him in, for no other reason than he wanted to be close, “I know no matter what I say, you won’t believe me until it happens. So please, please , just let me help you. You and the other commanders will have the final say in every decision we make. We’re not trying to take away your control, I swear. I’ll make sure everyone knows, you are the one in charge. Not me. Not Wolffe. Not Windu or Yoda. You.”

It was incredible, the way Quinlan always knew what Fox was feeling even when Fox himself had no goddamn clue. Quin always followed through on his promises, even when they were idiotic and full of terrible ideas. He had no reason not to think they’d retain their power…but there was always the possibility. 

Fox sighed and slumped, letting Quinlan take a bit of his weight where they stood in the center of his office. He knew he was right, and that even if Fox didn’t go along with things, his batch was going to force change upon the Guard by sheer force of will. 

His voice was semi-muffled from where he’d buried his face into the crook of Quinlan’s neck, “I hate it when you’re right.”

He felt more than heard Quinlan laugh softly, “I’m always right baby.”

“Quit calling me that.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

A small smile curled across Fox’s face despite the tension still darkening the room. General Koon could wait thirty more minutes.

—

Once Quinlan had left and Fox made sure he looked presentable enough that he could pass in front of a General of the Grand Army of the Republic, he shot a quick comm to the Corrie commander chat letting them know what he was about to get into. He allowed himself five minutes to panic before straightening up and going to meet General Koon.

He reasoned with himself on the way there, reminding himself of all the times he’d heard his brothers gush about their generals and that Wolffe trusted this man enough to call him ‘Buir’ after a few drinks. It helped, but wasn’t quite enough to make the blaring anxiety go away entirely. 

Upon reaching their waiting area, he was surprised by how…small the general looked. 

For some reason, he’d always pictured every Jedi that wasn’t Quinlan to be larger than life, filling the room with their presence alone. But this one was just sitting calmly, his clawed hands folded into his lap, waiting quietly. He looked oddly out of place. 

Fox’s entrance was noticed by him immediately, as the general rose barely a moment after Fox had set foot in the room and headed over in his direction. Fox gave him a proper salute, curiously watching the twitch it drew out of the Kel Dor, dropping it once General Koon nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Commander Fox,” he began in a low, soothing voice, leaving Fox vaguely wondering how his mask stayed put as he spoke, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Master Plo Koon, General of the 104th battalion. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Fox was surprised at the low bow the General gave him, momentarily stunned into silence. A Jedi? Bowing to him ? Thorn was going to lose it over the video footage later. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet with you, sir,” Fox said after remembering this was a Jedi in front of him, “Shall we speak in my office?”

The general nodded his assent, folding his hands into his robes and walking with the peaceful air of a man on a very different mission than the one Fox knew he was here on. 

They walked in relative silence, aside from a few preliminary questions General Koon had for him. Fox found himself relaxing just slightly, eased by the lack of intensity he was so used to from brothers, Jedi, and senators alike. Were he a less traumatized, more mentally stable man, he would go so far as to say he enjoyed the short walk to his office. 

When they reached his office, however, the tension returned in full force. 

Fox sat professionally behind his desk, despite the presence of a higher ranking officer because it was his desk dammit, while General Koon took the chair opposite him. 

“General,” Fox said hesitantly after an awkward moment of silence, “If I may, while myself and the other commanders appreciate your coming down here, I must assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”

General Koon regarded him closely for a moment, “You must assure me?”

Fox pursed his lips under his helmet. Jedi always looked for an excuse to blow things out of proportion. Exhibit A: Quinlan’s whole everything . 

“The Guard is operating well under the current chain of command,” he continued, ignoring the question of his wording, “Coruscant has been successfully defended many times and my men are still in top shape with regards to GAR standard scores.”

“Yes,” the general said slowly, “They are. I took the liberty of reading action reports coming out of this sector of Coruscant Forces, and I was very impressed.”

Fox let out a small breath of relief.

“However,” the Jedi continued, still looking at Fox with a strange curiosity, “Reports only say so much. You are aware of Commander Wolffe and Master Vos speaking with me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Fox nodded anyway.

“There is reason for concern here, none of which has to do with yours or the other commanders’ leadership.”

“Pardon me sir, but if you are not here to investigate the current operating conditions, what is your goal?” This was supposed to be about Fox and maybe the others. Wherever this conversation was heading, it wasn’t something any of them had been expecting. 

“To investigate claims of abuse,” the Jedi said calmly, as though it was common knowledge, “To see if they hold any merit, and in doing so, establish a system for your men to ease that burden.”

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t…” Fox trailed off. 

Fox didn’t understand. He knew what they were going through was abusive, but not actual abuse. You couldn’t abuse non-sentients.

He had no clue what to say to that. 

Luckily, General Koon did, “I understand taking this investigation anywhere beyond this office may lead to consequences for the Guard, yes?” 

He waited for Fox’s stunned nod before continuing, “The only people outside of the Guard currently engaged in this line of questioning are Commander Wolffe, Master Vos and myself. I have asked Master Vos to hold off alerting the Council before you and I spoke while my commander fields questions from some rather worried brothers of yours.” Fox registered somewhere in the back of his head that his tone was slightly amused. 

“I…see.”

“Myself and Master Vos are both a part of the Jedi Shadow order,” General Koon explained, steady as you please, “The two of us would prefer to investigate the Senate ourselves, something the Order has been meaning to do for a long time. A case of sentient rights abuses certainly grants us the jurisdiction, as even in this time of war a humanitarian crisis cannot be ignored, and we would perhaps be able to shed some light on the perpetrators of this violence enacted against you.”

Fox was so glad he had his helmet on. He just knew he was wearing that stupid shocked look that Stone always teased him for.

“Of course,” General Koon continued, “We would not do any of this without your permission. Your men’s safety is our top priority.”

Fox was silent for a few minutes, fumbling for something to say, before eventually landing on, “We aren’t considered sentients by the Senate.”

“What the Senate considers to be true and what the larger galaxy considers to be true are often two very different things,” the general offered, his face creasing slightly in what Fox assumed was a frown, “It would not be the first time in recent years we have been led astray by those in power.”

“Sir?” Fox asked, desperate to make sense of what was happening. 

The Jedi sighed, “I cannot tell you much Commander, but I can tell you that you are not alone in your suspicions of those in higher stations than yourself. When Commander Wolffe came to me last night along with Master Vos, many of my personal feelings on the matter were confirmed, though there are others within the Order who are less enthusiastic than I. I understand, seeing how war thrives off of disunity, but we are rapidly approaching a point in which we must decide if we are to be complicit in another’s agenda, or take our own actions and risk much in the process.”

“Right. Of course,” Fox said faintly. This was more than he’d ever even dared to hope for when Wolffe commed him about his general coming by. 

“I apologize,” Fox snapped his gaze back to the general from where he’d been staring out the window, dizzied with the amount of information thrown his way, “I have not even shared this information with my own commander. I do not want to burden you with issues of the future. For now, if I may ask, do I have your permission to conduct an investigation into the Senate and their proceedings surrounding the Guard?”

“Wh-what would that look like?” He cursed internally, trying to get a hold of himself. He shouldn’t be so flustered just because someone was trying to help.

“I would prefer to begin with you and your commanders, so that we might put some of your men at ease if they see us interacting in a friendly manner. Master Vos has volunteered to make rounds in the Senate a few times a week to both investigate certain characters and guard those under duress. Commander Wolffe has assured me he has let you know the 104th will be providing the Guard with our surplus supplies until I can speak with a few senators about the allocation of the military budget, and I would like to have a healer from the Jedi Temple come to look at your medical bay to make sure everything is in order,” General Koon finished, looking at Fox expectantly.

Fox paused. Carrion would hate having someone else in his arena and to be entirely honest, Fox himself wasn’t too keen on the idea. The med bay was where those suffering from more than just the physical went to rest and recuperate. It was one of the only remaining areas of the Guard complex that was a ‘no questions asked’ safe space. 

Then again, the chance for a Jedi to step in and help didn’t come around all that often. Saying no to one request could put them off the scent, make them believe Fox was saying no to everything they offered. 

“Of course sir,” Fox tried to sound much more confident than he felt. 

Still, the general waited, looking at him with that same intense expression that made Fox feel like he was being studied, every move meticulously cataloged until the man in front of him figured out what made him tick. It ridiculously reminded him a bit of Quinlan. 

Fox swallowed thickly, “My CMO may have some questions about the plan.”

“Then we shall hold off.”

It couldn’t be that easy. It was never that easy.

“I did have a question for you,” General Koon continued after a beat of silence.

“Of course,” Fox nodded respectfully.

“Commander Wolffe is worried about something you mentioned over comms,” based the way General Koon gentled his voice, Fox was sure this was going somewhere he wasn’t going to like, “I understand this may be a difficult question to answer, but I implore you to be as honest as possible.”

Again, Fox nodded. He’d said a lot over comms, nothing particularly urgent was coming to mind. 

“Do any of the senators…take advantage of your men’s inability to say no?” General Koon was studying him carefully, taking apart every piece of him he could with the helmet still on.

“Can you clarify what you mean, sir?”

The general folded his hands over his lap, though the sudden tension in his face did not go unnoticed, “Have you or any of your men been harassed in a sexual manner by the senators?”

The laugh that bubbled up was only just barely squashed. The senators were actively starving them, and this was what Wolffe was worried about?

“Yessir,” Fox answered levelly. 

The air in the room seemed to immediately grow heavier, like the pressure had suddenly spiked in Coruscant’s perfectly controlled atmosphere. He felt an odd weight in his chest, like he couldn’t get a full inhale of air even with his helmet filters. His sinuses and the backs of his eyes felt a sharp, shooting pain as the strange force of gravity pressed down. Had it not been trained out of him, he would’ve winced at the intrusion.

The feeling was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

“I see,” the general said quietly, “In that case, allow me to express my sincerest apologies. We have utterly failed you.”

“Sir?” Fox felt like this entire conversation was just a series of highs and lows, leaving him utterly disoriented at each new turn. 

General Koon looked at him for long enough to make Fox incredibly uncomfortable before he spoke again, “You are aware of the seriousness of sexual misconduct, commander?”

“Yessir,” he confirmed, unsure why it was a question, “We had training on Kamino in case any of our superior offices ever attempted to do anything untoward.”

“Then you understand why myself, along with your brothers, are upset over this?”

Fox sighed, “May I be honest, sir?”

General Koon nodded.

“There is no way to combat this,” he said bluntly, “The lack of supplies, the medical shortfalls, the physical violence we endure, that is all fixable. But when a senator takes a man into their office, we can do nothing. We’ve tried emergency calls, we’ve tried pretending the man in question was in trouble and needed to be taken back to base, I myself have filed damage reports totaling upward of five thousand credits, and I still do whenever possible. They simply pay it and move on, or wait for the next man to come along.” Fox let out a small sigh. He could feel his headache coming back already. 

“You file damage reports?”

“Clones are still listed as property, especially here on the homefront,” he explained, “The only thing that’s given senators pause is when they have to pay for damage to that property.”

General Koon fell silent again.

“To be honest,” Fox continued, “There’s not much to be done for it. Should your investigation reveal some corruption, no one would be surprised. But many of the senators we have listed as those to avoid are legally upstanding citizens of the Republic.”

“May I see this list?” The general requested. Fox nodded, pulling out his personal datapad and searching through his files. Once he found the right one, he handed it over. The general scanned it, scrolling quickly through everything, “Would you send this to myself and Master Vos?”

Fox tried not to flinch at the reminder that Quinlan was going to be in on this investigation, that he was going to see every ugly thing Fox had tried to hide from him, “Of course.”

“Thank you, Commander. Now,” the general stood, Fox following suit, “I believe Commander Wolffe is waiting for you outside.”

The door to his office opened with no further warning, Wolffe and Ponds stepping through in perfect tandem.

“Correct again, General,” Wolffe said, though his gaze was fixed on Fox, “Have you concluded your business?”

“Quite,” Fox didn’t think he was imagining the warmth in General Koon’s tone as he addressed Wolffe, “I shall leave you and your brothers to discuss.” 

Fox watched General Koon place a clawed hand on Wolffe’s shoulder, a rare open display of affection on Coruscant, before walking out of the room. Fox sagged, his last hope to avoid this conversation leaving him swiftly and without hesitation. 

“Take off your helmet,” Ponds barked as soon as the door closed. 

Fox stood there, unmoving. 

Wolffe sighed, removing his own helmet much more calmly, “Hello Fox. Nice to see you too.”

Fox scowled where they couldn’t see, turning his back to them and going back to his desk. He didn’t need this from them. 

“Are we really back to the silent treatment?” Wolffe pushed, circling around Fox’s desk so Fox was at least facing him as he pretended to go through the mountain of flimsiwork on his desk.

Fox huffed but gave no verifiable response. He didn’t really see the point. They would say what they had to say and then they’d leave him for another year or so. 

“Injuries,” Ponds called from behind him, “Show me.”

“You’re not Seventeen,” Fox growled, still not looking up at them, “I don’t have to do shit.”

“Fox,” Wolffe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “We’re just trying to make sure you’re alright.”

Fox chuckled darkly, “Thought we went over that bit in the chat.”

Wolffe’s expression darkened as Ponds finally joined him on the other side of Fox’s desk. Their eldest batchmate removed his helmet to reveal a similar look, though he chose to set his bucket down on Fox’s desk harshly. 

“Something to say?” Fox knew at this point he was just egging them on but goddammit he’d had a rough twenty four hours and it was largely because of these assholes.

“We love you.”

Fox froze. 

“And you scared the shit out of us.”

He looked slowly up at Ponds who, despite his words, had a stern expression on his face. 

“How can we help?”

Fox looked back down and shook his head, “You can’t.”

“The Jedi -”

“Are provoking something they don’t understand,” Fox said tiredly, the fight draining out of him in one go, “You think they won’t just replace whatever senators get exposed? You think anything is going to change by removing the product of the issue? The whole system is broken. There’s nothing to be done.”

Fox sighed and sat down in his chair heavily. He threw in the proverbial towel and took his helmet off to rub at his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling when dark spots lingered. 

“Names and faces change but actions do not,” he murmured, missing the worried glances between his brothers.

“What actions?” Wolffe pushed again, stepping closer to the desk. Fox stubbornly kept his gaze trained up above. 

“We’re dying,” Fox slid his eyes shut, “Very slowly. Very invisibly. But it’s happening.”

He could almost feel Wolffe’s eye twitching. 

“The Senate doesn’t care,” Fox felt his throat start to close up, only keeping his voice steady through sheer force of will, “We have two, maybe three allies that genuinely want to help and they’ve never even stepped foot in the Guard Complex.”

It was a horrible realization the first time Fox stood before those allies with shaky hands and dead eyes and told them that a clone had met his demise at the hands of a citizen the night before. CT-0846, ‘Hawke,’ had been whipped to death in the streets. Their faces had been horrified, but nothing ever came of it. Not even when Fox forwarded the autopsy and crime scene photos. 

There was nothing to be done. Nothing that could make anyone aside from other clones listen. 

Wolffe and Ponds looked at each other, unsure how to handle this odd display from their brother. Fox was usually the fiery one, the first one to sling an insult or put a little starch in the other’s spines. He knew how odd this was to them. 

Fox sighed and sat up, finally looking at his brothers, “Thank you. For coming. And caring. But truly, there’s nothing you can do that I haven’t already tried.”

Some days he felt a thousand years old. 

Their expressions pinched and twisted almost simultaneously, nearly bringing a smile to Fox’s face. There was a time in which Wolffe and Fox had been like that, mirrors of each other. 

“That’s not good enough,” Wolffe crossed his arms, his mechanical eye zeroing in on Fox, “We’re bringing you supplies, what else do you need? Medics? More guards? Credits?”

Fox waved him off, “The supplies are more than enough.”

Ponds stepped up, placing both hands on Fox’s desk and looming over him, “Stop it.”

Fox raised an eyebrow at him.

“Stop doing the whole ‘I am an island’ shit,” Ponds glared down at him, “You let Quinlan Vos help you but not your own brothers?”

Fox’s lip curled, “Don’t act like you’re better than me Ponds. Trying to guilt trip me into cooperating is low for you.”

“I don’t care,” Ponds sneered right back at him, “You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t ask for help and then we find out, two years into this shit show, that you’re being abused by the people we’re fighting to protect. You think we’re just going to be fine with that?”

“You don’t get a choice,” Fox rose from his chair, matching Ponds’ look, “You weren’t here. I wasn’t the only one that didn’t reach out, but you all had your new batches and your generals and shiny new armor. You think I wanted to shatter that for you? You think that I didn’t know you all would come running if you put an ounce of effort into keeping up, into seeing what was really going on this whole time?”

“So you deliberately shut us out,” Ponds snarled, “You closed yourself off and made yourself impossible to contact and acted like it was all our fault.”

“Fuck you,” Fox’s voice lowered dangerously, “You have no clue what I’ve had to do to keep my men safe.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Ponds challenged. 

There was a moment where the air went still between them. Almost nose to nose, both scowling and spitting and absolutely terrified. Fox could see it in Ponds’ face. The hurt that he so poorly concealed, the fear that seemed to have made a home in his eyes. Ponds had never been as good at covering up his emotions as Cody. 

Then again, Fox had never been the bigger person a day in his cursed life.

“You think just because you’re on the front that you’re justified in everything you do.” Fox hissed, “ That’s why I’m breaking up brawls between brothers every other night. That’s why Corries don’t talk to their old squadmates once they’ve been moved here. That’s why I don’t talk to you fuckers. I’ve got a desk job so everything’s easy, right? Ample time to shoot a text or give you a call. Well you don’t know shit.” Fox jabbed at Ponds’ breastplate, vaguely aware of Wolffe hovering in the background, “You’re not better than me because your men are dying out there. You don’t have the upper hand just because you’ve been away and everyone else follows your lead. I have my own shit going on here. My men are dying too. My men wake up screaming too. The difference is you can shoot your enemy. I have to serve mine.”

The room went silent.  

“Then show me.”

It registered somewhere in the back of Fox’s head that his older brother was begging. 

Still, Fox slumped like a puppet with cut strings. 

Ponds’ face twisted again, “You won’t, right?”

Fox sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands, “Yeah.”

Ponds scoffed, “All that bark and for what? You used to have a bite to match it.”

Fox laughed humorlessly, “Better days.”

“Fox,” Wolffe cut in, “Why won’t you tell us?”

“I can’t,” Fox sighed, giving up the ghost, “Corries have tried before and - just trust me here, okay?”

“What’s happened?” Wolffe stepped up so he and Ponds were shoulder to shoulder, “Where are those Corries now?”

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to do this. He avoided opening that damn folder as best he could. Hell, no one except the other Corrie commanders and the chancellor knew it existed. 

“Marching on,” Fox said, refusing to make eye contact. It didn’t help. 

“How many?” Ponds asked after a few moments of deafening silence. 

Fox shook his head, “You don’t want to know the answer.”

“Any of ours?” Wolffe asked next.

Fox just shrugged, “I don’t know. I’d need to look.”

He was well aware of the clenched fists a scant two feet away from his face. He knew what was coming next, where the blame would fall first. He took a small breath and readied himself for the hit. 

“Kamino doesn’t do decomms anymore,” Ponds’ voice was tight, full of rage, “General Ti has made sure of it.”

How was he supposed to tell them the truth? How was he supposed to sit here and tell them it happened right here on Coruscant? He didn’t want to talk about that damn room or the scientists they keep on reserve specifically for these instances. He’d once been told the process was painless, like euthanizing an animal. It hadn’t helped him then and it certainly wouldn’t help his brothers now. 

Fox just shrugged again. 

“How many?” Wolffe asked softly.

Fox shook his head, “Like I said -”

“Fox,” Wolffe’s voice was soft, but no less dangerous, “How many?”

“Thirty two,” Fox said quietly, still not brave enough to look them in the eyes as he said it.

Ponds sucked in a breath while Wolffe’s fists tightened so much Fox heard his gloves creak.

“I’m sorry,” Fox squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at them so his brothers couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall, “I tried to stop it but they -”

“Enough,” Ponds growled, “Look at me.”

Fox wanted nothing more then to run away screaming. 

He looked up. 

Ponds’ face relaxed a bit seeing the turmoil in Fox’s eyes, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Fox wanted to cry so bad. Instead he slid his gaze off of his oldest brother’s face and out the window. It looked like a nice day outside. 

About six months into his stay on Coruscant Fox began to have these episodes. Carrion threw around a bunch of terms he didn’t quite understand, but it boiled down to the fact that sometimes he’d just go away for a little bit. Let himself run on autopilot. It never impacted his work so he’d never really attempted to address it. Besides, it happened less often now that Quinlan was around. 

He could feel it looming as Wolffe and Ponds exchanged glances. It felt a little bit surreal, like drifting gently away from the situation at hand. He’d gotten a better grip on it as time passed, knew that he could grasp on to his stubborn consciousness if he wanted to. He just…wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“Alright,” Ponds sighed, “Fucking hell, alright.”

Wolffe looked between him and Fox worriedly, “Ponds, I don’t think -”

“Commander CC-1010.”

Fox straightened on instinct, confused as to why Ponds would address him by his number. And with that tone. 

“You are under arrest for suspicion of aiding and abetting sentient rights, as specified by article -”

“What?” Fox asked, rising to his feet, looking at Ponds in shock. 

Ponds carried on, stone faced, “As specified by article twelve section fifteen of the Rights of Sentience clause put forth by the Galactic Constitution. You have the right to remain silent -”

Fox slammed the panic button under his desk before snatching his helmet back and shoving it on, “Like hell are you going to -”

Ponds pulled a pair of cuffs from his belt. The blood drained from Fox’s face. 

“Fox’ika,” Ponds said in a much calmer tone, much more like the one Fox remembered from their youth, “I’m trying to help you.”

“Ponds,” Wolffe placed a hand on his shoulder and moved to step in front of him, blocked only by Ponds’ proximity to Fox’s desk, “We agreed this was a last resort.”

“You agreed ?”

Wolffe hesitated. It was all Fox needed. 

“We can’t explain here,” Wolffe gave up on Ponds and turned to Fox, “but vod, it’s going to be fine.”

Fox’s right hook had Wolffe falling backward into their eldest batcher. Wolffe looked at him in bewilderment, gently touching his hand to his cheekbone before hissing in pain and pulling it away. 

“Commander CC-1010,” Ponds resumed that force damned tone Fox only ever used on hardened criminals, “You will be taken into custody by the Jedi Sentinels and be given a fair and unbiased trial. You have the right to an attorney and a thorough investigation will be conducted into the current state of affairs surrounding the Guard. If you are found innocent -”

The door to Fox’s office slid open, revealing his three senior officers in perfect battle formation. Were Fox not fighting off a panic attack he would’ve offered a word of praise. 

“Commander Ponds,” Stone’s voice was cold through the vocoders, “This is low even for you.”

“Boys,” Wolffe managed to gather himself enough to stand and block their shot on Ponds. Ponds didn’t look away from Fox. “I know what this looks like. It’s just a means to an end, we don’t want -”

“Back away Commander,” Thire made less of an effort to conceal the anger he was feeling, “These are live rounds.”

Wolffe clenched his jaw, “Listen to me -”

“No,” Stone spoke again, Thorn and Thire remaining steadily focused on where they were aiming their weapons, “You will not be taking our CO into custody. You will not be returning to this complex upon your departure. You will tell your batch that the next one of them that steps foot in here without a legal reason will receive a shot between the eyes. You will not contact the Commander unless he contacts you. And you will leave. Now.”

The room lapsed into silence. Fox could see Thorn’s finger on the trigger, mentally praying that he wouldn’t actually take the shot and if he did that it wouldn’t be somewhere vital. Ponds was still looking at Fox, his face set in hard lines. Wolffe seemed caught up in the stalemate, looking between all sides, unsure of his next move.

“Okay,” Fox breathed, stepping out from behind his desk and between the two sides. Almost immediately his men lifted his guns, ensuring they weren’t anywhere close to pointed at him. It seemed the discipline he’d drilled into them for months was finally paying off. 

“Everyone take a breath,” this Fox could do, “Ponds, you want me to go to the Jedi, yes?”

Ponds nodded stiffly. 

“Why the cuffs?”

“You can’t tell us anything,” Ponds said coldly, “You said it yourself. Someone is threatening you and your men into silence. Under the pressure of a legal investigation however…”

“Absolutely not,” Thorn spoke for him, “That means nothing to - to the Senate.”

Wolffe and Ponds both zeroed in on Thorn, sensing a weakness in Fox’s commanders they hadn’t found in Fox himself. 

“He would be under the protection of the Jedi,” Wolffe tried a different angle, “The best fighters of this age. That’s different from - well, you.”

Thorn and Thire bristled but Stone, force bless him, relaxed his shoulders. Just a bit, probably not even enough for Wolffe and Ponds to recognize, but Fox knew what that meant. 

“I don’t want to go into custody,” Fox turned back, voicing his issues through clenched teeth, “I won’t have you walking me out in front of my men in cuffs.”

“It wouldn’t be real otherwise,” Wolffe’s one organic eye softened, “Whoever is doing this to you is watching, right? You said they always know when something gets out.”

Fox nodded slowly, beginning to put the dots together on his own. 

“We can do it the real way,” Ponds stepped up, looking not at Fox but at his commanders, “And have results come of this. Fox will be legally obligated to give any and all information concerning the Guard’s issues to the Jedi. Or,” Ponds tilted his head, considering the men in front of him, “You can shoot two officers who rank higher than you and have all of this come crashing down on your heads.”

Stone was the first to flick on the safety. 

Fox nodded to him gratefully before turning to face his brothers, bile rising in the back of his throat, “Not this way.”

“Fox,” Ponds said helplessly, “If you won’t let us help you you’ll keep losing men. This place is swallowing you alive.”

Fox grimaced, the surreal feeling coming back stronger then ever, “I know that.”

“What’s your alternative?” Wolffe challenged, “Feed the Jedi information? Blame it on a shiny? Publicly announce your cooperation and get your head cut off?”

Fox grit his teeth, “I don’t know.”

“There’s not another way.”

“Yes there is,” Fox said stubbornly. He didn’t want to be in cuffs. He didn’t want his twin to escort him to prison. He did not want any Jedi poking around in his head.

“Then what is it?” Ponds snapped, “Please, please tell me. Since we’ve stepped foot in here you’ve stonewalled us and kept us at arms reach. I don’t have a better solution unless you start talking Fox.”

Fox hesitated. It was enough for Ponds to sigh and hold the cuffs out to him. 

He hated this. He hated every single thing about it. He wanted to itch at his skin, scratch away the curl of fear and malice in his gut. He wanted to take back ever saying anything to Wolffe about his missing men or blowing up on his brothers in the chat. He wanted -

He wanted to go away for a little bit.

The cuffs clicked closed. 

Fox let it all fall away.