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The days are always the same. Morning shift at the senate, pretend you can stand around the deceitful and cruel senators for more than a few moments. Go to the Chancellor’s office. Blackout. Wake back up in the dingy closet that Fox has claimed as an office for himself.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Palpatine was the sith lord responsible for the war but up until now there was always something that filled Fox’s mouth with molten embers when he tried to discuss it. It was killing him, but more importantly, it was killing his corries.
All Fox ever did was fail them, time after time. Resulting in brutal beatings from the red guard, decommissioning, or even worse, reconditioning for all his brothers in the guard. The headaches were near constant now and the effort to keep them safe was slowly weakening him.
A vicious cycle really. Try to keep them safe, become exhausted, and inevitably fail. Just like he did in everything else. Fox knows that the other commanders are starting to become worried for him, more so than usual anyway. Their CMO, Reaper, has been too busy with the recent injuries caused by the Senate’s session on war materials and hasn’t had an opportunity to bully Fox into a nap quite yet. Going on 90 hours without sleep now, was honestly a record. Even for Fox who seemed to avoid sleep like it had personally wronged him.
Little did the other commanders know, it had. Every time that Fox dared to sleep for even a few hours he would wake up to dead shinies and countless decommissioning requests. Each reports a new knife in his heart, breaking him down piece by piece.
The small holo-TV mounted in the corner of the room is on Coruscant’s main news station. As it always is so that Fox can analyze any violent reactions citizens might have to situations happening on the planet. For nearly two hours it had been playing reels of tookas getting adopted, so he was in fairly high spirits that the citizens of Coruscant might not be a problem they had to face today.
However, his somewhat good mood was shattered just as quickly as it had come to mind as the tookas were replaced with the very face of evil inhabiting this force-forsaken planet. The light atmosphere in his data-packed office was instantly overtaken by the slimy darkness that Fox felt every time he saw the Chancellor. While he didn’t know what happened during their meetings, he had an idea every time he had to drag himself to their overrun medbay for stitches in his face, shoulder, back, and countless other places. There was nothing to do with the electrical burns though, and every time he twisted too fast the wounds would pull and cause barely manageable agony.
“Citizens of our great Republic! Rejoice, for we have pushed the Separatists from the mid-rim. We may finally gift our peaceful citizens better times. No more horrors of war for those who have been victims in the mid-rim. We have finally come to the end of the line and can now start our final push into the outer rim,” applause overtakes the senate rotunda as Palpatine puts on his grandfatherly act.
Fox’s vision nearly turns red at the sith’s proclamations. It might nearly be over for those in the GAR but Fox has been reminded many times that the Guard will forever be under Palpatine’s wicked thumb.
As he stares blankly at the holo-screen, visions of his brothers being tortured and killed takes over his mind. Thorn with red-hot blaster wounds riddling his chest plate, surrounded by droids. Thire, beaten and left for dead on one of the lower levels. Stone killed in a riot near the Temple. Hound ripped apart by a mastiff under the control of Sidious. The horrible images torment him and his head starts to pound. Like someone had taken a pickaxe to his temples and went at it.
Gasping for breath, Fox rips off his helmet. Trying to take some of the pressure away but nothing seems to help. Helplessly he slams at the spot on his head that seems to be the source of his pain with both of his gauntleted hands.
When that doesn’t help either he finally pulls one of his blasters from its place at his side and pounds at the spot with the butt of his weapon. Just when it seems like the only solution to his misery is to put a blaster bolt in his brain he bashes the place high on his head one more time.
It’s not immediate but jarringly the pain starts to dissipate. Hands shaking, Fox lets his blaster drop to the floor next to where his bucket had landed. His metal desk is shiny, it’s been cleaned recently and Fox can see his haggard reflection on its surface. Not much looks different, greying hair, deep bags, and scars that cross his nose, eyebrows, and lips. However, one thing is different. Blood drips but his eyes and ears, it’s even beginning to drip out of his nose.
A crazed smile creeps onto his scarred face and the blood splashes down onto the desk. Obscuring his reflection in a gruesome display.
“The Chancellor is the sith lord,” he says slowly, bracing himself for the pain that usually follows. Nothing.
“The Chancellor is the kriffing sith lord!” Fox repeats to himself, giggling wildly, and bending over to suck in air as his wild laughing continues.
He scoops his bucket and weapon from the cold floor and covers his bloody face with the helmet. To any outsider, the blood on the rest of his armor will look like the pain that every guard wears. It will not fool his men, but as long as he avoids the other commanders on the way out of the barracks, no one will question his authority.
No one will miss him if he is killed in his effort to assassinate the Chancellor. His guardsman might, but they will mourn Fox and move on like they’ve been forced to do in the past. His commanders will be upset but the power vacuum left in his absence will keep them occupied, and his batchmates hadn’t talked to him in months. Some of them, years. After Fives’ death, all contact had been cut and they had named him Dar’vod. The corries would be the only ones to mourn their big brother.
It hurt Fox to do that to them, but it was his responsibility to protect them and he had failed thus far. It would not happen again. Without that blasted chip, Sidious had unknowingly created an enemy stronger than he could imagine. An enemy that could only be stopped by death, and that had everything to lose.
Leaning over his desk he input the order to expose the Chancellor, approximately two hours from the current time. Fear pulsed through Fox, good the sith would be able to feel that before he sensed Fox’s intent. It was exhilarating, this newfound freedom.
He makes his way through the door, slipping out quietly despite the racket that had just occurred in his office. Fox walks confidently through the halls, eventually bypassing the front desk with nothing but a nod to Warden who’s currently manning the entrance. The look he gets back is confused but Fox cannot calm his brother’s nerves with his words. It might tip off Ward with the feral quality of Fox’s voice.
The journey to Sheev’s office is quiet and Fox giddily laughs to himself as he rides the elevator with Senator Amidala. She’s come to not expect words from him or the other guards but wishes him a good day as she gets off at the floor containing her office.
“I will Senator,” he quips as she gets off. It’s unlike him and suspicion clouds her face as he sarcastically salutes her. The doors slide shut and Fox sighs contentedly to himself, she was always one of the good ones. Nice to shinies, no disciplinary punishments were requested in her time in office. He’ll remember her, and she’ll certainly remember him after he completes his task.
He lets his fear flood his mind once again. It’s single-minded, enough to trick a powerful force wielder. And it will. Fox steps into the office and Palpatine turns his chair to gaze at him.
“Commander Fox! What a wonderful surprise,” the words and kind but the underlying threat is always there, Fox nearly smiles but holds it in as he approaches the Chancellor.
Kneeling at the man’s feet for the last time, Fox removes his bucket to look at him. Sidious stands to tower over him, still believing that Fox is under his control. Wickedly, Sidious pulls a lightsaber from his robes and ignites it.
He does this often. He’ll run Fox through with his lightsaber, enough to kill him slowly and cause untold pain but eventually he will heal Fox enough to send him back to his work. Not this time.
“Stand, Commander.” Sidious’ voice has taken on a note of cruelty, and Fox rises to stand in front of him. He keeps his muscles lax and submissive, knowing what he must do to finally kill the man who has murdered countless of his brothers.
The crimson blade ignites his gut and Fox lets himself whimper and fall onto the man's shoulder. Fox’s adrenaline is rising, and if he doesn’t act quickly there’s a possibility that he might pass out.
Turning his face to talk directly into Sidious’ ear, he pulls his blaster while the old man is distracted. Palpatine registers his intentions too late to act and Fox finally allows himself a victory.
“Long live the Republic.”
Fox is whispering but the words seem almost as loud as the sound of the blaster bolt from his weapon firing directly into the side of Palpatine’s face. The sith is thrown to the side by the force of the bolt, the deactivated lightsaber flying from his grasp and Fox’s stomach. Without the man holding him up, Fox stands unsteadily for a few moments over his body before listing dangerously and collapsing on the floor.
As he fades out, Fox can hear the Jedi bursting into the room. Sidious’ face is the only thing directly in Fox’s line of darkening vision. He feels detached from the world, there are hands fluttering around him but he lets the exhaustion take over. Fox has not failed, and all he can think of now is dying with dignity.
-
Fox’s first glimpse of the Manda is certainly not was he was hoping for, but he’s beyond being disappointed. For some reason, it has decided to manifest itself as the Jedi Halls of Healing, which Fox has only ever seen once. It is a bit of relief to see that he’s not alone. There’s a vode sitting at the end of his bed, head bent over some sort of flimsi text.
It’s not until the brother looks up that Fox finally decides that he’s being kriffed with. Sitting on his bed is Jango Fett of all people.
“Are you being serious right now?” Fox questions. Jango just stares at him, unimpressed as Fox falls back onto the surprisingly soft pillows with a dramatic groan.
“You are supposed to be one of the best, control yourself,” Dead Jango says somewhat haughtily.
“Well considering you were beheaded by Mace Windu I wouldn’t be talking Prime.” Sue him, Fox is maybe just a bit upset with this turn of events. He squeezes his eyes shut petulantly so that he won’t have to continue looking at him.
“You still have people to protect Fox’ika. You are not done yet so don’t even try.” Prime’s voice seems to echo around the room, and Fox snaps his eyes open only to see an empty room.
Rage is not one of the finer emotions that the Vode gained from Prime but Fox is damned if he will let that get in his way. Of all people, Fox is definitely not going to listen to the man who’s been dead for three years.
Outside the burning sun of Coruscant is rising, washing the landscape with vibrant reds and oranges, even some pinks. This is as good of a place as any to deny this particular afterlife. Maybe on his next try, he’ll join the Jedi’s force. At least while he’s here Fox can watch one last sunrise on this doomed planet.
Dragging a red chair over to the large window, Fox takes the small hand mirror lying beside the bed and smashes it against the floor. Picking up one of the bigger pieces he tests it with one of his thumbs. Wickedly sharp, won’t hurt a bit.
Settling himself on the chair, Fox lets the light wash over him and he plunges the glass into his wrist and then the other. His blood drips onto the sterile floor and to Fox, it seems almost poetic. In a way at least. His not-life blood? He can almost picture it cleansing Coruscant, cleansing him. Taking away all the pain and burning up all of Fox’s failures. He sees it almost as a protector, going out to watch over his remaining brothers in the Guard.
His vision fades again, and Fox once again prepares himself for a new afterlife. Or perhaps this time, some damn peace and quiet.
-
This afterlife seems to have the same pillows as the last one, this time though, his wrists feel cold and clunky. Cracking open his eyes, Fox finds himself looking up at the same ceiling. He shoots up, only to be stopped by a pair of cuffs on each side. His wounds seem to be dressed and mostly healed. At least Prime isn’t here.
Laying back Fox starts to laugh, it’s similar to his final hours before his death but Fox can’t help it. The absurdity of this situation would be comical to anyone. Divine kriffing punishment if Fox has ever seen it.
He’s only been laying there for what feels like minutes before the door to his informal room is opened and several people shuffle in. Horror floods Fox’s psyche as he realizes that these people are definitely alive, which means he probably also is. Sparing a cursory glance at his forearms he lets his eyes settle on his batchmates.
The room is tense as the Jedi medic works before Cody finally speaks up.
“What the hell is wrong with you Fox?”
Fox blinks before he’s once again filled with that Mandalorian rage.
“You come marching in here demanding things of me? We are not family unless you have forgotten and I owe you nothing, not an apology, and not an explanation. Nothing, do you copy?” He’s breathing hard and the Jedi looks at him worriedly.
“Come on Fox, you know we never meant it like that.” It’s Wolffe speaking this time and it doesn’t help Fox relax in the slightest.
“How about you and the rest of the GAR abandoned us? We lived under a sith lord for years and couldn’t ask for help, but if you had ever visited you would’ve seen what was happening. Instead, you chose to believe we had cushy desk jobs and didn’t deserve to be recognized for our efforts. Fox doesn’t deserve your so-called family and so we have taken him into ours.”
Ah, yes. Thorn to the rescue as always. Stone and Thire stand behind him and pride swells in Fox’s heart. Those are his boys. The other Commanders in the room stand baffled for a moment before stone speaks in a voice that could even humble senators.
“Good day, Commanders.”
Fox’s batchmates awkwardly shuffle out of the room, throwing glances back at him before the door is shut.
“I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” Fox says holding up his hands in a placating manner. Probably not as effective with handcuffs on.
“Oh, you better but for now we can celebrate the death of no good Sheev!” Thire shouts, making the Jedi scowl a bit at him. He’s always been enthusiastic though and for the first time in years. Fox is finally getting the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out alright.