Chapter Text
The room where he's been placed is very small.
Not that he has claustrophobia. It's just an observation he made. Making observations is one of the few things he does to kill time.
Another way of spending all those hours of loneliness and waiting is wondering. But he rarely does that. Wondering makes him feel even lonelier... and doomed.
When he starts to wonder his mind is occupied by one particular thought. What will happen to me? He struggles to avoid all the nightmare scenarios but they always come back to haunt him.
He broke down only once.
He burst into tears and curled into a ball on the ground. He was crying so hard that he cried himself to sleep and when he woke up they were looking down at him.
A shiver runs down his spine at the very memory of the cold, reptilian eyes locked on him. He felt so vulnerable and exposed that he couldn't move. He just stared back at the Kaminoans until they told him to stand up. And then they asked him questions. Lots of questions. He hardly managed to keep track of them all – he had to keep track so that he would answer them correctly.
They asked about his brothers. About the general. About the captain.
He tried to stay focused and to analyse all queries but after endless hours he gave up. He was exhausted. During the last quarter of the interrogation he was on the brink of begging the 'investigators' to let him go.
He raises his gaze from the floor and looks at the door. He hasn't been visited for a long time. He knows that they banned his brothers from seeing him and even standing outside his cell... but he wonders why the 'investigators' haven't come to look down at him for few days.
He shakes his head violently to drive the sudden urge to wonder away. He doesn't want to think about it! He doesn't! He should be grateful that they let him be.
How long has he been locked here, anyway? Days? Weeks? No. No, that's impossible. They don't have the time for it. It came as a suprise thet they decided to run this investigation in the first place. They've been keeping two battalions out of the frontlines in the middle of a war. That's strange, isn't it?
It's definitely unnerving, though.
If the GAR authorities were determined enough to call for Kaminoans and to keep two kriffing battalions in, that means he'd done something very foolish and unacceptable.
Something unexpected for a clone.
Nothing will save him now. There's no chance of escaping the cloners' clutches. What is going to happen then?
He knew the answer but he dared not to voice it. It was too terrifying. Being reconditioned.
Because it's reconditioning, isn't it? What else can they do with him?
He's a good soldier. He did his duty. He did it for the Republic. Decommission is out of the question. Right?
The funny thing is, no one, except the cloners, seems to know what reconditioning and decommission mean for certain. There is gossip, of course. But gossip – even clone gossip – isn't reliable when it comes to the deep-laid procedures which names causes anxiety and dread to arise in every brother's heart.
Recondition.
Decommission.
Two things that they all have feared since they were children. Their fear results from the unknown. No clone knows what it means to be reconditioned or decommissioned until...
And apparently no brother who came through it has ever happened to be ready to tell the rest what this procedures are. Was such brothers even around?
To be recodnitioned means to be learnt the fundamental rules again, to be fixed like a broken machine would be.
To be decommissioned means to be out of order, unfit for duty and got rid of because one cannot fulfil said duty.
That's all they know. However, the terrifying part of this procedures is not their basic definitions but what they consist of. This is the dreadful unknown.
They were drilled to face death. They were taught what death on the battlefield means: being shot, being sliced with a lightsaber and the like, suffocating, being crushed under debris and so on. Nevertheless, it is still hard to imagine what being decommissioned is like. Somewhere in the maze of sterile corridors. All alone. Accompanied only by the cloners.
A shiver runs down his spine. Anything but not decommission. Please.
He lowers his head and barely registers tears welling up in his eyes.
Where are his brothers? Why can't he see them? What will happen to them? What will happen to him ?
He curls up on the bench and starts sobbing quietly. Defiance arises in his heart. Why? Why does nobody care? Why are they just cannon fodder to everyone but themselves? He bites his lip and tastes blood. It's too much. He can't take it anymore. He lowers his head, resting it on his knees.
Too much.
Why does he have to go through all this? Why was he so stupid? Why did he pull the trigger?
It strikes him that after all this years of training and flash learning something inside him – a glitch, Jango factor – came to life and made him see. See who Krell was. See what should be done with him.
His deed was implusive. Still, it was the right thing to do.
Good soldiers follow orders, they do, but they also remeber what they're fighting for. Having a purpose is crucial and he has just found his. He did it for his brothers.
He takes a deep breath, dabs off the tears with the sleeve of his bodysuit and the next moment the door slides open. It's over. Did they wait for him to calm down? Or is it just a coincidence? He doesn't have the time to ponder as two vode in white armour devoid of any marks escort him out into the corridor.
When they exit the building, he takes a quick look around. It's propably late evening but on Umbara it's hard to distinguish day from night. There are numerous gunships taking off and landing, troopers embarking and disembarking.
Suddenly he feels an unwelcome pressure over his wrists. Handcuffs. He bows his head immediately frustrated. He's almost forgot that some don't see his actions the way he does. Is he a traitor then?
They steer him to one of the gunships. No sign of Kaminoans. However, he knows where he's headed. He had more than enough time to think about the consequences.
He catches a glimpse of something blue and turns his head in this direction.
The captain is watching him, his helmet tucked under his arm, exhaustion too visible on his face for Dogma's liking. Is Rex wondering what would have happened if he'd pull the trigger instead of the shinie?
He makes eye contact and a wave of desperation washes over him.
No. Don't let me go. Don't leave me. Please...
But it lasts only for a brief moment. He's already thought it out. He puts on a brave face. For his brothers.
Rex nods at him and he returns the curt gesture.
It doesn't matter wheter the Kaminoans, the generals or any other non-clone understand what and why he did. It's a relief to see that his very brothers are on his side. After all, he did it for them.
With that Dogma boards the gunship. The door closes behind him. It's over.