Chapter Text
The first sign Fox knew something was wrong was when Thire knocked on the door to Fox’s office. All of his commanders knew they could come in whenever they wanted. They only ever knocked to give him warning a new shitstorm was coming.
So Fox glanced up warily, waiting to hear the next mess that was going to be dumped in his lap. “Thire. What’s wrong?”
Thire shuffled his feet back and forth, stalling. “Sir, there’s a prisoner that wants to speak to you.” Fox waited for him to continue. They both knew that if every prisoner who demanded to speak to command got an audience, Fox would never get anything done.
Thire pulled his bucket off and his face was drawn tight. Alarm bells started blaring in Fox's mind. Thire was hard to rattle. What was tripping him up like this? “Sir…He says he’s a jedi.”
Fox’s stomach dropped. Fuck. He stood immediately, slipping his helmet on as he met him at the door. “Take me to him.” Thire turned and marched solemnly down the hall.
“Who made the arrest?” Fox asked over their internal comms.
“Jet, sir. His squad was carrying out a raid on some crime syndicate on level 2112, and the report says he witnessed this guy making an exchange under the table.” Jet. Just a shiny then. This was probably his first bust.
There was no way he was letting Jet take the fall for this. As they reached the door to the interrogation cell and stopped, he let himself feel the slightest glimmer of fear for how the jedi might punish him before he shoved it down and clenched his jaw. “Thank you, Thire. That will be all.”
From the corner of his eye Fox saw Thire look at him sharply. “Fox,” Thire started.
“You’re dismissed, Thire.” He cut him off. Fox didn’t meet his gaze, but Thire wouldn’t fight a direct order, and there was no way anyone was becoming a target for this jedi other than Fox.
“Yes, sir.” Thire’s voice was hard, but he understood, even if he didn’t like it. Fox hoped he’d forgive him by the time he made it back to their barracks that night, in one piece if he was lucky. None of their brothers liked to be alone after a punishment.
Thire saluted him and turned to leave, briefly bumping his shoulder as he departed.
Finally alone, Fox blew out a sharp breath and rolled his shoulders back. Time to bite the bullet.
The door whooshed open when he input the code, revealing a tan-skinned man with long locs sitting casually slouched in his chair, hands still cuffed to the table. His clothing left little to the imagination, which is why Fox immediately noticed his bulging muscles. He gulped under the protection of his visor. This jedi was strong. It was probably going to hurt.
He realized he had frozen and discretely shook himself. The man’s face had lit up with a wry grin when he saw Fox. “And who might you be?” He leered. Fox just hoped he wouldn’t be unnecessarily cruel.
Straightening to his most perfect posture and saluting, Fox answered, “Sir, I’m Commander CC-1010. The Jedi temple has been contacted and is sending a representative right away. My sincerest apologies for any inconvenience, sir. I’ll remove your cuffs immediately.”
“No need, I can take care of them myself.” He shifted his hands, and the cuffs clicked open. Fox winced minutely as the jedi brought his hands up to rub his wrists and raked his eyes up and down Fox’s frame. Fighting not to squirm, possibilities raced through Fox's mind. But no point working himself up over a hypothetical. Yet.
“Do you have a name?” The man finally said.
Was this a trap? Better not to risk it. “CC-1010, sir,” he repeated. For the briefest instant, Fox thought he saw a flash of disappointment.
The jedi’s body language was still relaxed and at ease. “I see. Well, I did want to talk to the trooper that arrested me. Can that be arranged?”
Fox felt a pit form in his stomach. No. No, that could not be arranged. But he couldn’t refuse a superior. He prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that his deflection efforts would be enough and opened his mouth.
“I’m sorry, sir, but unfortunately that trooper is unavailable. As his commanding officer, I take full responsibility for his actions.” Fox opened his stance, making himself vulnerable in an effort to appease him. Most of the self-serving, pompous assholes he dealt with on a daily basis appreciated the shows of humiliation they could force him into. It was worth a shot here, too.
The jedi waved his hand dismissively. “No need to worry, I don’t mind waiting. When does he get off shift?” Fox felt real fear shoot through him then, and some corner of his mind noticed that the jedi’s grin slipped off his face.
If he wasn’t deterred by the brush-off, this was going to be harder than he thought. But there was still no way he was letting Jet in the same room as this guy.
He took a deep breath, muted by his helmet. It was dangerous to invite punishment outright. They always assumed it meant he wanted it. So they expected him to act like it. And it only got worse for him when he didn’t. But if the choice was between a harsher punishment for him or any punishment for Jet, it was no choice at all.
“Sir, it wasn’t his fault. As his commanding officer, I oversaw and approved every aspect of this mission. It was my responsibility entirely, and I submit myself to any punishment you deem necessary.” He shifted on his feet, then added relunctantly, “I’m more than capable of accomodating anything you desire, sir.”
The implications of his statement made his mouth go dry. It’s for Jet. Do it for Jet.
But the jedi jerked back like he’d been shocked. “Punishment? For what?” Fox bit his cheek hard. So he was one of those. The ones who liked to make him spell out his mistakes and rub his face in them, who reminded him it was his fault he was being punished like this, and that it was the only way to teach him a lesson that would stick.
But aside from all that, Fox hated those people the most because if he didn’t tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, it made things worse, and he had only himself to blame.
In this scenario, the only thing Fox was guilty of was being on shift at the same time this came across his desk (not that he was ever off-shift anyway). He wondered if he was supposed to act as a stand in for Jet. He had no idea, so he took his best guess at what this jedi was looking for.
“Sir, I failed to properly verify your identity at the scene of the crime and arrested an officer of the Republic without just cause.”
The man just stared at him as his eyebrows hiked up his face and his mouth dropped open. “What? You weren’t even there. And your trooper arrested me because he saw me buying drugs. Sure, it was part of an undercover operation, but he had no way of knowing that. Why would I punish either of you?”
Fox bit down on his cheek so hard he felt the metallic taste of blood spill into his mouth. Why was he digging in so heavily on this? Fox had been forced to beg for a punishment before, but they didn't usually double down if he hadn't actually done anything. He suddenly felt a bone-deep exhaustion so strongly that he didn’t even have the energy to play along anymore. If it got him a worse punishment, so be it. At least he wouldn’t be stuck waiting for the shoe to drop.
“I wouldn’t presume to know, General.” He said tiredly. He just wanted to get it over with and get back to his brothers. Was that too much to ask?
But his mind woke right back up when the jedi stood. Fox flinched back involuntarily before forcing himself to stand still. They didn’t like it when he resisted. The jedi stopped moving when he caught Fox’s motion, and slowly held up his hands.
“Commander, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. No one’s getting punished for this. It was an honest mistake, ok? I just wanted to ask the trooper some questions about the op’s investigation.” Fox had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing.
The man stared at Fox with an indecipherable expression. “You know what? I think I’ll just come back for my questions another time. Thank you for your help, Commander. I’ll see myself out.” The budding hope Fox had been allowing was immediately snuffed out. Come back? When Fox didn’t have notice to prepare? When he might not be there to protect Jet? Or his commanders? Unacceptable.
“No, sir, please! I can help you. Tonight. Anything you want, sir.” Fox begged, taking a half step forward as he slowly approached desperation. He’d been so close. He just needed the man to leave without a threat left hanging over his head.
The jedi’s eyes widened before he narrowed them. “Alright,” he said slowly, dragging out the syllables. “Is there some place else we can talk? Somewhere with fewer…listeners.” Fox gulped. Isolation from his brothers was not a good sign. But it’s not like he had much choice.
“Of course, sir. If you’d please follow me.” Every instinct he had told him not to turn his back on this man. Still, Fox led him out of the cell block to his cramped office. He kept a brisk pace and nodded as troops saluted them as they passed in the halls. Like prey marching right into its predator’s trap.
The short walk from the interrogation wing to the office had never felt so long. When they finally arrived, Fox’s nerves were wound impossibly tight. “After you, sir.” Fox opened the door and stepped aside, letting the jedi lead the way through the entrance. He braced himself before following suit and stood at parade rest in front of his desk. The door locked shut behind him with a decisive click.
They were alone.
The jedi had said he wouldn’t be punished, but maybe he didn’t see it as a punishment. Some of them saw it as a gift. How grateful Fox should be that they chose to grace him with their presence and guiding hands. The familiar helpless anger started to blaze up again before he brutally tamped it down and took a deep breath. No use for that right now. He needed to be passive and compliant until they told him otherwise. He knew how it went.
“How may I serve you, sir?” Fox started to distance his mind from his body. If they were finally getting into it, Fox didn’t need to be fully present anymore. He had done this enough times before to perform on muscle memory alone.
But Fox’s process was interrupted when the jedi, who’d been picking up and examining different objects strewn throughout his office, did not give him instructions, but a question. “So how did your unit decide to target that syndicate? They were supposed to be entirely off law enforcement’s radar once I went in. You know, to avoid situations like this one.”
He smiled wryly at Fox. Fox didn’t know how to respond to that, so he ignored it.
“Sir, they’d been following this group for weeks, ever since they killed--er, damaged an extensive amount of Republic property.” Fox coughed to cover up his misstep before he continued. “My men found evidence of a large-scale drug trade and human trafficking operation and received intelligence that a high-level meeting was happening at that club tonight. It seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.” The jedi was nodding along, so Fox continued. “We had no knowledge of your operation, sir.”
That made him react. He turned sharply toward Fox. Fuck. Fox resolutely held himself still. “No one told you there was an undercover operation happening? What about when you went through the Senate?”
Fox thought about all the paperwork that the Chancellor passed onto him, all the times he’d been instructed to “take care of it or else,” and how he seemed to know the Chancellor’s signature better than his own. In fact, Fox remembered signing off on this very operations plan. He’d mentioned it in a briefing to the Chancellor and gotten a nod as he was waved off, so he’d taken that to mean there were no problems. He should’ve known it was never that simple.
“We only require approval directly from the Chancellor. I don’t recall it coming up. I’m sorry, it was my mistake, sir. I should’ve vetted the operation more thoroughly.” Fox didn’t have the clearance to look into jedi undercover operations, and he never would. There was no possible way he could’ve found out without the Chancellor telling him. He doubted this man would accept that.
But for the third time that night, the jedi waved off his apology as he paced across the tiny office. “Not your fault, Commander. There’s no way you could’ve known about my mission unless someone told you.” Fox blinked. He stood corrected.
“…Er, yes, sir.” Fox was very quickly losing his grip on reality. If he wasn’t here to be punished, where was this going?
“Do you have their leadership in custody?” The jedi picked up another piece of the clutter Fox hadn’t had time to even think about, let alone clean up, in months.
“Yes, sir. We apprehended all 7 division heads, and we were going to charge them with human trafficking, possession, intent to distribute, a few second degree murders, and resisting arrest, but we can turn them over to the jedi if you’d prefer to oversee the investigation from here on out.”
On the one hand, the Chancellor would probably punish Fox for giving the opportunity to take credit for the op over to the jedi, but on the other hand, if this is what it took to protect Jet, he would take any punishment, regardless of who was doling it out.
“No, that won’t be necessary. Sucks that I spent 3 weeks deep undercover for nothing, but if you have the evidence to charge them anyway, then no harm done.” Fox silently let out a breath of relief. Maybe everyone would be able to get out of this unscathed.
The jedi put down the latest knick knack he had been examining and turned to face Fox. “But I would like to keep in touch with you about the case, just to stay in the loop. Your troops have proven to be more than qualified. I work a lot of undercover cases on Coruscant, so who knows? Maybe we can help each other.”
Fox blanched internally. Continued contact? How many chances would that give him—or worse, one of his men—to be found lacking? He already had to report to the Chancellor on a daily basis, and Maker knows how many corrections he’s had to face from those appointments. But better you than any of them, Fox reminded himself.
So he stood up straight and saluted. “Of course, sir. I am at your disposal whenever you require.” The jedi frowned at him, and Fox’s exasperation at how difficult this man was to read was about to get the best of him when his comm went off.
A tinny voice came through. “Sir, the jedi representative has arrived to retrieve the prisoner. He’s at the main entrance.”
“We’ll be right there, trooper,” Fox answered into his wrist, before returning his focus to the jedi. “Sir, if you’d please follow me, we can release you to your Order.”
“That’ll be Obi-Wan. Please, lead the way, Commander.” They walked down the corridors in silence, Fox merely relieved to be rid of this jedi for the night. He still didn’t even know his name, but the pressure of a nat-born breathing down his neck and waiting for him to fail was not something he could handle after the exhausting day he’d had.
They reached the main desk where Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi stood. Him, Fox knew. And with the way he was crossing his arms and tapping his foot, he was not exactly the picture of poise and serenity that Fox had been told of.
Shit. He’d escaped the wrath of one jedi just to run into his pissed off friend. Hopefully Kenobi would get it out of the way instead of hanging it over his head indefinitely like the other one.
“Sir, Commander CC-1010 at your service. My sincerest apologies for the mishap, sir.” Fox saluted crisply, drawing his spine impossibly straight. He wasn’t giving either of them anything else to take issue with.
Kenobi waved him off with his hand. “Not at all, Commander. It’s Quinlan here that should be apologizing.” Kenobi fixed his glare on the other jedi. Quinlan, apparently.
“What!” Quinlan sputtered. “How is this my fault?” Fox let his posture give nothing away, but secretly, he was wondering the same thing.
Kenobi sighed and raised an eyebrow “Didn’t I tell you to clear your operation with the Guard before you went undercover? Precisely to avoid situations like this one?”
“Yes, which is why I told the Chancellor!” Quinlan crossed his arms. “This one is not on me.”
Kenobi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Quinlan, how many times do I have to tell you? The Chancellor is not a reliable means of passing information. If you want the Guard to know, you have to tell them yourself!”
Fox was feeling quite a bit lost. At least none of their frustration was directed at him. He was content with being a prop for their conversation for as long as they kept their focus off the Guard’s failings.
But no sooner had he had the thought than they turned toward him. Fuck. He’d jinxed it.
“Commander, thank you for recovering him and turning him over to us. We appreciate your service.” Kenobi said, his hand now on Quinlan’s shoulder. “Knight Vos and I will be returning to the Temple. Please let us know if you have any follow up questions for your investigation.”
Fox saluted again. “Of course, General. Happy to be of service.” He waited until they were both safely out the door before letting out a sigh of relief. Everything was fine.
Still, he couldn’t help but hope that this would be the last time he ever laid eyes on Quinlan Vos.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Much to his chagrin, Fox and the jedi do meet again.
Chapter Text
He should’ve known his luck wouldn’t last. Fox was on sentry duty in the Senate halls the next time he saw Vos.
He’d been standing guard outside a committee meeting debating next year’s military defense budget for 6 hours straight when they finally started to trickle by him out the door. Finally. Watching their lunch deliveries come and go left him starving, but he wasn’t allowed to move from his post until every senator had left. His knees were aching from being locked so long in his parade rest, and he couldn’t wait for the relief of sitting undisturbed in his office to do his flimsiwork for the remainder of the day.
He was just starting to daydream about his next cup of caf when a senator on her way out tripped over his boot and fell face-first to the floor. Fuck.
He knelt to help her up. “My sincerest apologies, Senator. Are you alright?”
She shoved his hands away and stumbled to her feet on her own before turning her beet-red face toward him. Oh great. Senator Mantella. “No, I’m not alright, you filthy meatdroid! Can’t you watch where you’re going? I ought to report you for this. What’s your number?” She pressed her hands on her hips as spittle flecked on Fox’s visor.
Fox ignored her slur and clasped his hands back behind his back. “Marshall Commander CC-1010, ma’am. You can direct any complaints concerning my service to the Supreme Chancellor.” Her face froze for a split second before the glare returned. Fox sighed internally.
“Take off your helmet, clone.” She tapped her foot, waiting as he did so and tucked it under his arm. She brought a finger up to wag in his face as she continued. “You’re a disgrace to the Republic. The perfect example of why we should halt funding for additional troops immediately! Here we are, hard at work to defend our people, and you can’t even stand guard correctly.”
She seemed to be on quite the roll, so Fox tuned her out. It didn't seem like a good time to point out that this particular senator had been zoned out on her datapad shopping for dresses for the majority of the meeting, and her tangent wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. Definitely not something he needed to pay attention to to be able to respond appropriately. He chimed in with his obligatory “I understand, ma’am,” “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am,” as she called for it.
He was just wondering how long this was going to delay him from that caf when he heard someone call, “Commander?” He turned his head to look. The voice belonged to Quinlan Vos. Great. Just what he needed.
His brain registered the senator raising her arm out of the corner of his eye a split second before he felt a hot fire bloom on his cheek as his head was forced sharply to the side. “Are you even listening to me?” She screeched.
Fox just barely restrained from bringing a hand to cup his face as he straightened back up. He was opening his mouth to assure her he’d heard every ridiculous word she’d said when Vos spoke up again.
“Hey! Get your hands off him,” he shouted, quickening his pace as he approached them, shoving himself in between Fox and her.
“Commander, what’s going on here?” Vos looked at him over his shoulder, his brows scrunched. The senator beat him to answering. “Thank goodness you’re here, jedi! I’ve been assaulted. This clone—"
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Vos cut her off with a sharp glare and such vitriol in his voice that Fox’s eyes widened before he remembered he didn’t have the luxury of his helmet hiding his face and he wiped it blank again. Vos turned back to him with an expectant expression.
“The senator is right, sir. I’m responsible for any bodily injury she may have accrued in her fall.” He fell silent, hoping that was sufficient.
“Well? You heard him! He needs to be punished!” The senator’s shrill voice piped back up.
Vos stared at Fox a minute more. “Very well. I’ll handle it, Senator. As you were. Commander, come with me.”
Fox didn't move. Vos was going to dole out his punishment? He’d rather have the Senator. But the jedi was already walking away, so Fox saluted to the fuming woman, swung his helmet back on, and turned to follow.
He sent a quick comm to Thorn letting him know to prepare the shift schedule since he probably wouldn’t be up for duty for the rest of the day as he went. He didn’t want him to worry if it turned out to be awhile before he could make his way back to the barracks.
There went his caf fantasy.
Vos rounded a corner and Fox hustled to catch up, only to almost barrel into him when he turned it himself. The jedi had stopped to face him. There was no one else in the hallway. Fox saluted and stood at attention. This was it.
“Well, Commander, sorry you had to deal with that. Are you alright?”
Fox needed a minute to process that question. Both he and the Senator had affirmed it was Fox’s fault, and Vos wanted to know if he was alright?
“Of course, sir. The Senator was the one who was injured.” Fox’s cheek was still burning, and he had to keep blinking the water in his eyes away as they welled from the pain.
The jedi rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I’m sorry you have to put up with her. She’s a real pain in the ass, huh?”
Fox wisely chose not to acknowledge that remark. “It’s my duty to protect all citizens of the Republic, sir. I failed, so I’ll accept your punishment.” He clenched his fists before releasing the tension from his body. Tightening his muscles would only make the damage worse.
“Huh? Oh, right. No, I’m not going to do anything to you, I just wanted to get her out of your hair. Now that I have you though, I have been meaning to stop by your office again.” Fox blanched. There were only two reasons Vos would show up at his office. The thought of the first formed a ball of dread in his stomach. The second was something to do with Fox’s men. Either were bad options.
“I’m at your service, sir,” he bit out anyway.
“There’s a case I’m working on, these two gangsters that have been smuggling military-grade weapons out of Republic stockpiles and selling them to the Separatists through an underground network on Coruscant.”
Fox nodded. Two of his troopers had briefed him on their investigation’s progress last week.
“Do you think we could go through your notes? I’ve been staring at it for so long I’m going cross-eyed, and a new perspective, or information, if you have it, could be exactly what I need.”
Fox hesitated. If he agreed, was the general going to ask to hear it directly from his men? He didn’t want to give him access to more innocent troopers than he absolutely had to. But ultimately, there was only one answer he could give.
“Of course, sir. I’d be happy to walk you through what we have so far. The files are in my office.”
“Lead the way, then, Commander.” Vos gestured with his hand, and Fox started walking. He was getting deja vu.
It was about a 15-minute walk from the corridor of the Senate building they’d been in to the Corrie headquarters. Fox kept his mouth shut, but that didn’t deter Vos from filling the silence. He told Fox about his last mission down to the lower levels, then about Master Kenobi’s latest faceplant in front of his Commander.
Was he talking about Cody? Just his name was enough to send a sharp pang of longing through Fox's chest. What he would give to hear his brother's laugh over the clinking of glasses at 79's. But as it was, he hadn't heard back from Cody for months.
By the time Fox tuned back into to Vos's rantings, the topic of conversation had moved on to new speeder laws that prevented him from driving at breakneck speeds.
He was almost glad when they reached headquarters, if only so that they could finally skip the small talk and get down to it. “Through here, sir.” Fox led the way past the intake desk, nodding to the trooper manning it, before he continued to his office.
He hesitated for only a second before opening the door.
“Here we are, sir.” Fox decided to let Vos lead as he got into parade rest.
“Great. So about the case, I have a name for one of the gangsters, but no one seems to know anything about his partner. Does Ginreon Daxel ring any bells for you?” Just as he had last time, Vos paced through the office and examined all the trinkets Fox had as he talked.
So he was going to keep up appearances. Fox could work with that.
“Yes sir, he’s a top suspect for an unrelated case we’re working on, but we didn’t have enough evidence to book him. He’s connected, but not very smart. If you can stop his contacts from covering up for him, you shouldn’t have any trouble bringing him in.” Fox hoped that was the right answer.
Vos put down the flimsi disk he had been inspecting as he turned to face Fox. “Top suspect? For what?”
Fox was glad his helmet shielded the bitter grimace that passed over his face. The truth was he had murdered 17 of Fox’s men in cold blood, just for the fun of it. He’d hunted them one by one on their patrols of the lower levels, calling in fake incidents just to draw them out before singling them off and killing them. But clones didn’t count as sentients, so Daxel hadn’t killed anyone.
“Property damage, sir.” Fox ground out.
Vos’s brows shot up. “You were trying to book this guy for property damage? Isn’t that a waste of your time?”
Fox felt hate flare up in his chest before he brutally tamped it down. He had to keep complete control of himself in front of this natborn. He couldn’t take any risks with leaving Thorn or one of the others to deal with him.
“It was quite significant, sir,” Fox kept his tone flat. It wasn’t worth decomissioning to explain to this stranger that justice for his brothers, whatever limited amount they were permitted, could never be a waste of time.
“What did he do?”
“He killed 17 troopers, sir.” Fox held his parade rest, tightening his grip on his wrist behind his back until it was almost painful.
Vos’s mouth dropped as his brows furrowed. “17?” He exclaimed. “Why didn’t you book him for murder?”
“Clone troopers aren’t sentient, sir. You can’t murder us.” The bitterness that bled into his voice couldn't be helped.
Vos closed his mouth, but his shock had been replaced with an icy expression that made Fox bite his lip. He’d only spoken the truth, but clearly he’d messed up. Natborns often disliked being confronted with the reality of the clones’ existence.
“What evidence did you have, Commander?” Vos’s voice was low and dangerous.
Confused about where this was going, Fox still answered dutifully. “We had his fingerprints, security footage of him attacking two of the men, and he didn’t have an alibi for any of the times the attacks took place, sir.”
Vos looked surprised after the fingerprints, and then his glare got murderous. “And on whose authority was that deemed insufficient evidence?”
“The Chancellor’s, sir. He believed we needed to have unflappable proof of each individual instance before we stirred up public panic about troopers not being able to do their jobs.” The old disgust and rage built up for a second before he let it go again.
“I see. Well, I hope the Chancellor won’t have any objections to booking him when we get him for treason. Don’t you agree, Commander?” The question felt rhetorical to Fox, but Vos continued to stare at him.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s another thing. Enough with the ‘sir,’ ok, Commander? Just call me Vos or Quinlan. We’re going to be spending too much time together for that formal business.” Vos finally sat down on the guest chair Fox had opposing his desk. “Please, sit. We have a lot to get through.”
Fox didn’t know how he felt about this strange jedi who waited for Fox’s answers and didn’t want to be called sir. But he did know that he would do anything to put that scum Daxel behind bars. So if working with the jedi is what it took, he’d do it, no questions asked.
The rest of their meeting was uneventful. They went through the details of both the smuggling case and the murders. Vos had even said he was sorry for Fox’s loss at one point. Fox hadn’t known what to say, so he had just told him they were doing their duty. It wasn’t even a lie. It was their duty to die for the whims of natborns. It was just that usually those natborns were Republic officials.
Fox let his guard down once they’d gotten into things, confident he was safe as long as the general needed something from him. But as they wrapped up, and the general moved to stand, Fox held his breath again. Vos would either dole out his punishment anyway, or part with his usual threat to return.
“Well, thank you for that, Commander. You’ve been a real help. I’ll reach out if I find anything I think could help your case. If you find anything that might help mine, I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same for me. If you have the time, of course.”
Vos grinned at him before turning to the door. Fox moved to follow, planning on escorting him to the exit, before Vos held up a hand. “I think I can find my way out. I’ve distracted you from your work long enough.” Then, winking, he turned and stepped out, the door whooshing shut behind him.
Fox had no idea what had just happened. He’d escaped punishment from the senator, been given apologies for his loss, thanked, and then winked at. All in the span of an hour. He had no idea what to make of this strange jedi.
This marked two meetings now where by all accounts, he should’ve been walking out to go straight to the medbay. The idea crossed his mind that maybe Vos actually was different. Maybe there was one natborn he didn’t have to fear all the time.
But then he remembered all the times he’d hoped that before and brought himself back to reality. Vos hadn’t been brutal in taking what he wanted thus far because Fox hadn’t actually refused him anything. The moment would come when Vos asked him for something he didn’t want to deliver, and Fox would be forced to go through with it anyway.
Despite the smiles and the polite, “If you have time,” Fox knew what Vos’s requests were. Orders. Wrapped up in pretty packaging or not, there was no choice in whether or not to obey. So it didn’t matter if Vos seemed different. Fox had to keep his guard up no matter what. And he wouldn’t forget again.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Warning: this chapter contains references to rape/non-con. Please exercise discretion.
This chapter is dark, but it has to get worse before it can get better.
Chapter Text
The third time he saw Vos, he was coming from the Chancellor’s office. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing there. All he knew was how much it hurt. Blood dripped down his shoulder and his legs felt like pins and needles shooting through him with each step. Get to base. He had to get to base before someone saw him like this. He could be decommissioned for this breach in protocol.
No one was in the halls. It must be late. Or early? Fox couldn’t remember, and his vision was too blurry to read the chrono in his helmet. One step after the other. Get to base.
His skin burned all over. He didn’t know from what. Where was he before the Chancellor? Why didn’t he go to medbay before the meeting? His meeting must have been urgent. Why couldn’t he remember?
His misjudged his next step, extending his leg just slightly too far, pain shooting up his back. Fox grit his teeth as he collapsed against the wall. He thought it might be the only thing keeping him upright.
Add a pulled muscle to the list, he thought. Hemlock would not be happy about this. The medic was always telling him to be careful, and here he was, beat to hell, with no recollection of how it happened. He must’ve gotten a concussion too. Yeah, Hemlock was gonna be pissed, Fox thought.
But just as he swung himself back upright and made to keep going, a voice stopped him. A familiar one. “Commander?” Vos sounded shocked to find him here. Fox would’ve laughed if he had the energy. As it was, all he could do was bring his arm up in a salute that would’ve gotten him 100 laps on Kamino and try to stay standing without the wall’s help.
“Sir. How may I help you?” Fox slurred. He didn’t realize blood had been pooling in his mouth until he tried to speak.
Vos took him in with a glanceover before swinging an arm under him, supporting his weight as Fox gratefully leaned into him. Wait, wasn’t he supposed to be keeping his guard up? Fox couldn’t remember why. He seemed to be very forgetful today.
“I think it’s how I can help you. What happened?” Vos tried to help him sit down, but Fox resisted. If he went down, he didn’t know if he’d be able to get back up. And when Vos left him there, he’d be completely vulnerable in the middle of the Senate dome. That was not a good position to be in.
“I’m fine, sir. If there’s nothing you-“ Fox coughed as he choked on blood. “Nothing you need, sir, I must be going.” He tried to pull out of Vos’s grip, but the jedi didn’t budge.
“Alright, well, why don’t you let me help you get where you need to go. I’m hoping to a doctor. Are you going back to base?” Fox’s vision was getting worse. Black started to fade in on the edges.
“Y’sir.” Fox blinked, swaying as he tried to remember where he was and how to get there. Piecing it together without being able to see proved to be a task that took all his focus, and he lost touch with his surroundings until he felt hands gliding from his shoulders to his torso. He wanted to shake them off, but he was pretty sure it was a natborn touching him. Who had he been with again? He wasn’t allowed to resist. But he was also pretty sure he’d bleed out by the time they finished with him.
“Pleas’ir, if you jus’ lemme go to H’mlock firs’, I can do what’ver you wan’ later. You c’n have me howe’r you want. Pleas’ir.” Fox wasn’t above begging. Dying meant leaving Thorn and Thire and Stone in charge to deal with everything alone. He couldn’t remember why that was a bad thing right now, but he knew he couldn’t let it happen.
The hands loosened their grip on him momentarily before tightening again. Fuck. Clones didn’t get shit.
“Commander, I’ll take you to your medic. Just hang in there.” The mystery hands swung him over a pair of shoulders, and Fox blacked out from the pain.
When he woke up, the first thing he realized was that he was in a bed. That was unusual. The second was that every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He opened his eyes and then immediately shut them at the burst of light.
“Fox?” A voice said. “Hey, Hemlock, he’s awake!” Thorn. Fox tried again to open his eyes, squinting to soften the brightness. He took in his surroundings and realized he was in the medbay.
“Tho-“ He couldn’t finish the word before he started hacking, his throat dry and scratchy. “Here, Fox. Drink this.” Thorn handed him a cup that he downed in one go. The water was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“Thorn,” he tried again, pleased when his voice was significantly less hoarse. “What happened?”
Thorn sighed as he broke eye contact. “That’s what we were hoping you could tell us, vod. That jedi, Vos, brought you in here last night bloody and beaten to high heaven. He said he just found you in the Senate.” Thorn raised an eyebrow skepitically. “Did he finally carry through on that punishment?”
Fox blinked. He tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. He had been doing his rounds, and then he’d woken up outside the Chancellor’s office and run into Vos. He must’ve gotten injured sometime on patrol and just thought he could stick it out until after his meeting. But one thing he knew for sure was that Vos hadn’t done it.
“No, it wasn’t him. He did find me, and I guess he helped me get back.” Bits of the conversation they’d had came rushing back, and Fox winced, remembering the promises he’d made in exchange for that help. He could only hope Vos would give him a few days to recover before he collected.
“Hmm. I guess I can still be surprised. If it wasn’t him, then who was it, Fox?” Thorn was frowning at him. “If it was one of the senators, we can cover for you for a bit until you can recover. I don’t mind taking their shift. And I can switch off with Thire until—“
“It wasn’t a senator, Thorn. Relax.” Fox cut him off. “It must’ve happened while I was on patrol yesterday, but I think I got a concussion too, so it’s a little fuzzy. Just tell the squads to be extra vigilant on the lower levels for the next few weeks, ok?”
Thorn didn’t look like he accepted that answer, but he nodded. “You got it, Fox. I’m on Chancellor duty, so I have to get back to my post, but I’ll send Hemlock over. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Fox nodded as he stood and made to leave, but stopped at the foot of the bed, a hand on the guardrail. “I’m glad you’re ok, Fox. I don’t know how we’d survive this planet without you.”
Fox blinked in surprise as Thorn continued through the medbay, stopping once by Hemlock and gesturing in Fox’s direction before he left. Thorn wasn’t one for heartfelt declarations like that. Or anything close to it. Fox’s condition must’ve really scared him.
But Fox didn’t have long to think about it before an angry medic was storming his way. “Fox, how many times do I have to tell you to come in before it gets this bad?” Hemlock exclaimed. “Thorn tells me you think these injuries are from a patrol in the lower levels, and I have to find out you’re bleeding to death from a jedi who found you in the Senate halls? What were you thinking?” Fox opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off as Hemlock continued his tirade. Fox let him get it all out, the corners of his mouth curling up in the slightest hint of a smile at the medic’s antics.
“Hemlock. Hemlock!” Fox finally burst, laughing. But it was shortlived. “Aw, fuck, it hurts to laugh.” He curled up with a grimace, clutching his ribs.
“Damn right, it hurts. You came in with two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, gashes up and down your arms, a fractured kneecap, torn hamstring, and now I hear from Thorn you’ve got a concussion, too. You’re on bedrest for the next week, Commander. And don’t think you’re getting out of it this time.” Hemlock wagged a finger at Fox as he glared. Fox winced at the diagnosis.
“Hemlock, come on. Be reasonable. We both know I can’t afford to be out that long. I can give you three days before I have to get back to work.” Fox tried to show his apology in his eyes, but it wasn’t as if either of them really had a choice. Hell, if the Chancellor called tomorrow, he would have to go.
If Vos called tomorrow… Fox resolutely chose not to think about that possibility. No point worrying over it before it happened.
Hemlock shook him out of his reverie with a hand on his shoulder. “Fox, I know your work is important. I know the Chancellor demands a lot from you. And I know you do it all so that the rest of us don’t have to. But I’m telling you as your medic, if you don’t take your time on this one before jumping out into the field, you’re not going to last very long.”
Fox sighed, but Hemlock wasn’t finished. His voice softened to a whisper. “We almost lost you, Fox. Twice. You flatlined. I almost lost you. The Guard can’t function without you, sir. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us.” Fox could only watch as Hemlock walked away.
His heart pulled. He knew he pushed himself hard. Too hard. He knew it would kill him in the long run. Loading up on stims and caf and only eating a single ration bar a day was far from healthy, especially combined with the 1 or 2 hours of sleep he managed to get, if that, on a daily basis. But if he didn’t go when the Chancellor, or a Senator, or now a jedi called him, people got hurt. His people. His brothers. And if sacrificing his own wellbeing for them meant they got to live to see another day, no matter how hellish it might be, then Fox would do it in a heartbeat. Again, and again, and again, until he had nothing left to give. And he wasn’t there yet.
But for now, no one was demanding his presence, and his entire being ached down to his bones. So he closed his eyes, and slept.
A beeping rose him from his rest, blinking into the bright lights of the medbay once again. It’d been 3 days since Vos had found him, and he’d had yet to be summoned by anyone. His beeping commlink threatened to ruin that streak. His brothers always contacted him on his in-helmet comm. Only the Chancellor ever called him through that line. He couldn’t explain the mass of dread that pooled in his stomach at that thought, so he shoved it down and reached for the comm.
He cleared his throat before answering it. “Commander CC-1010.” The Chancellor didn’t like for the clones to use their names.
But the voice that responded was not the Chancellor’s. “Commander? It’s Quinlan Vos. I just wanted to check in on your recovery. Can I stop by this afternoon?”
Fox’s mouth fell open. He was dumbstruck. Vos wanted to check in on his recovery? And was asking permission? Fox shook off his stupor as he processed what Vos really said. He probably just wanted a status check on how long he’d have to wait before collecting what he was owed. Joke’s on him. Vos could’ve summoned him today.
“That will be fine, General. Would you like me to come to you?” Fox didn’t want this jedi anywhere near his medbay, not if he could help it.
But Vos scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Commander. I’d never expect you to be up and moving so soon after injuries like yours. I’ll see you later. Vos, out.”
Fox sighed. Like he always said. Clones didn’t get shit.
Before Vos showed up, Fox cleared the medbay of non-critical patients and non-essential personnel. That just left him, Hemlock, and another brother who’d been doused in acid by some jackass in the lower levels. Hemlock had him in a medically induced coma while he recovered. There went the rest of their medical supplies for two months. But all said and done, if they only had one patient too sick to move, Fox took that as a win. The more troops out of Vos’ way, the better. (And he didn’t count as a patient).
By the time Vos did arrive, Fox was exhausted. He had begged Hemlock to let him do flimsiwork so he wouldn’t be drowning in it when he did have to go back, and he’d gotten approval as long as he didn’t move from bed and took frequent breaks from looking at the screens. (He fudged it a little on that second part). But he’d started at 8 am when he’d been woken by Vos’ comm, and now it was 4 in the afternoon. The hours with no break were getting to him, and he could feel a migraine forming. He couldn’t tell if it was just in his head, but his legs also seemed to be hurting worse than they did yesterday. Fox was no expert, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t how recovery was supposed to work.
He had honestly forgotten Vos was supposed to come at all until he walked in the door. Fox shot up, as straight as he could manage while being wrapped in bandages and with a makeshift splint on his leg. He watched Vos look around before his eyes landed on him and a grin broke out on Vos’ face. Fox braced, then forced himself to salute as Vos got closer. He just barely bit back a gasp at the pain he felt jolt through— pretty much everywhere, actually. “Sir,” Fox put his best effort into making his voice level, but he didn’t think he succeeded.
Vos’s eyes widened. “Please, Commander, at ease. Don’t strain yourself. I’m just here to check on your condition. You seemed pretty…” Vos broke eye contact. “Out of it, when I found you. What’s the prognosis?”
Fox thought about standing on decorum anyway, but then figured he had no idea how long Vos was planning on “checking on his condition,” so he might as well conserve his strength now. He slowly lowered his arm as his muscles thanked him for the relief. “Nothing too bad, sir. A broken rib, a busted shoulder, and a few cuts. It’ll heal in a few days.” Vos gave him a doubtful look, but didn’t question him.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it wasn’t anything permanent. Do you remember how it happened? I found you coming from the Chancellor’s office. Not something you see everyday.” Vos smiled before examining his fingers, a practiced effort to appear casual. But Fox could hear something more serious underlying his tone. He had no idea why, though. What could the Chancellor have to do with it?
He wracked his brain for anything the jedi could possibly want to know before drawing a blank. He figured the truth was as good an option as any. “Just a skirmish in the lower levels, General. Took me by surprise, and I didn’t realize how bad it was until I finished with the Chancellor. Nothing to worry about, sir.” Vos frowned for a second before dropping his expression to the amicable one he had been wearing before.
“Of course. Do you have the suspect in custody?” Vos asked. Fox thought for a minute. Why weren’t they trying to catch him again? Oh, that’s right.
“I’m afraid not, sir. I didn’t see anything identifying to go on. Caught me by suprise in the dark.” Fox cringed as he admit his failures out loud, but Vos didn’t seem to fixate on it.
“I see. Well, glad to know you’re on the mend. Let me know when you’re back on duty and I’ll come give you my updates on that case we talked about.” Vos turned to leave as Fox blinked in confusion.
“You don’t have to wait, sir. We can discuss it now.” Quinlan turned back as Fox’s brain caught up with him and he blanched. “That is, if you’d prefer, General. We can do whatever you want, sir.” Vos’s eyes turned sharp, and Fox wondered what he’d said. Was he still offended? Vos continued to stare at him for another second before he shook his head, “Not at all, Commander. It can wait until you’ve recovered. I wouldn’t want to bother you.” Before Fox could get a word out, Vos took his leave, and Fox was left dumbstruck.
Never in his life had a natborn told him they didn’t want to bother him. Something was wrong with that general. Fox just hadn’t figured it out yet. But he didn’t have time for that right now. The bright side of Vos’s visit is that in his confusion, his migraine had started to fade. Time to get back to work.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Fox freaks out. Quinlan gets a permanent assignment.
Chapter Text
Two weeks later, Fox was almost fully on the mend. At least as much as could be expected. He would have some nasty scars, and his torn muscle wasn’t going away anytime soon, but he could walk mostly without pain, so he was taking it as a win. He had even been spared a visit to the Chancellor since he’d last seen him. All in all, it had been the best two weeks he’d had in a long time.
But as usual, the Guard, and more specifically Fox, never got to have good things for long. He got the summons from the Jedi Council for later that afternoon when he had just finished his rounds in the Senate and was sitting at his desk to have his caf and catch up on the never ending flimsiwork. He first thought it was a message for the Chancellor that he was meant to pass on, but then he checked the recipient and almost spit out his caf. CC-1010. Fuck.
Had he messed up royally and not realized it? He scoured the last week in his brain looking for anything he’d done that was out of place. He hadn’t even had contact with a jedi since Vos had come to visit him in his hospital bed. Then he remembered.
Fuck.
He was supposed to contact Vos when he recovered so that he could update him on the case. He had been so busy trying to get caught up with everything that it had slipped his mind. And now here he was, having been prancing around for the past week, with no contact. Vos must be furious.
Fox thought it was a bit of a dick move to go through the Jedi Council to punish him when Vos could just do it himself, but he didn’t really have a lot of room to be petty. But then he stopped. He’d never been summoned by the Jedi Council before. Would they decommission him for this? It didn’t seem worth the cost to Fox, but he had seen worse done for less. And it wasn’t as if the jedi were opposed to the practice. Every single one of his men that he’d been forced to condemn had been put down right under the noses of the jedi on Kamino.
He had held out hope for weeks that each new trooper that was caught breaking protocol, or that fought back, or that looked at a Senator wrong would be saved by the jedi. He had prayed that if they just knew about it, they would put a stop to it. Until he realized that too many decommissionings had happened for them to be anything but aware and either complacent or supportive. He would receive no sympathy from the Jedi Council.
He let himself have a minute to come to terms with the possibility. He felt surprisingly calm about it. Coruscant was a hell he was never going to beat. The only way to win was to outlast it, and Fox had known from the first month he stepped foot on this planet that he could only withstand it for so long. He’d rather be taken out in action, but if this was how it would happen, he could come to terms with it. The only regret he had was leaving his brothers behind to deal with it without him.
He checked the time on the summons and saw it was in an hour. The Temple was on the other side of the capital. He’d need 45 minutes just to get there at this time of day. He gave up on his caf, grabbed his helmet, and sped out the door.
He pulled the speeder up to the front steps of the Temple. The Senate building had special entrances for support staff and clones. The senators felt they “ruined the image.” Fox had no idea if the Jedi felt the same way, but he had circled the Temple twice and hadn’t found any entrance but the main one. As he walked up the stairs, he decided to update Thorn, Stone, and Thire. He couldn’t walk in without giving them any heads up at all when there was a strong possibility he might not be walking back out.
He paused a moment as he thought about what to say before he realized they already knew everything that was flitting through his head, so he just informed them of the summons. They would understand.
He pulled his shoulders back and walked on as the guards parted to let him pass. They must have been informed he was coming.
He checked his chrono and saw he had 7 minutes to spare. He needed to hustle. Especially because as the further he walked, the more he realized the Temple was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. He wandered without finding the Council chambers. With only three minutes to spare, he started to sweat. What would happen to him if he were late? Would they punish him too before decomming him?
Just as he was getting ready to face the risk of asking one of the temple guards for directions, Vos called his name from behind him. “Commander! You looking for the Council room?” Fox felt something loosen in his chest as he saw the easy smile sitting on the jedi’s face, then dismissed the strange feeling with a slight shake of his head. Weird.
“Yes, sir.” Fox saluted, and Vos waved his hand.
“Please, Commander, we’ve talked about this. None of that, yes? C’mon, I’ll show you the way. This place is a maze.” As usual, Vos filled the silence with his chatter. The pit in Fox’s stomach even started to ease a bit until they reached what Fox assumed was their destination.
Oak doors from floor to ceiling greeted him, but he couldn’t see handles or a panel on the wall. He was just wondering how they were going to get in when the doors creaked inwards, revealing a massive chamber inside. His nerves came back in full force.
The others were going to be fine. They were prepared. That’s all that mattered to him. So he shoved his worries back down deep and followed Vos as he entered the room. The jedi were positioned in a circle encompassing the room. Windows comprised the walls on almost every side, and the sun shone in. If he wasn’t focused on the people who held his life in their hands, he might almost find it peaceful.
He suddenly wondered if the rumors he’d heard about jedi reading thoughts were true. Vos hadn’t ever said or done anything to suggest that, but these were the most powerful jedi in the universe. Maybe it was different for them. That thought made Fox bite his lip behind his helmet and force his mind clear. They weren’t going to get anything out of him, intentionally or not.
When Vos stopped in the center of the circular room, Fox took up his attention form a step behind and to the right of him. He didn’t want to start off by insulting any of them and implying he held himself equal to a jedi.
And then, he waited. It didn’t take long for a tiny green jedi at the head of the circle to speak. If Fox had to guess from Thire’s stories, he assumed this was Master Yoda. “Greetings. Thank you for coming on such short notice, I do, Commander. Necessary, it is, to discuss the Guard’s operations with the Jedi.” Fox blinked at the funny manner of speaking before processing what was said. The Guard’s operations? What was he talking about? They didn’t have any joint efforts with the jedi.
When the silence persisted, he had a second to wonder if he was supposed to answer before Master Yoda continued. “A proposal, we have for you. Been told of the connection between your investigation and one of our Shadow’s missions, by Quinlan we have.” Fox didn’t dare move from his locked stance, but he saw Vos turn to him, smiling again as he nodded at him.
Fox was confused. What did any of this have to do with him? Fox and Vos had already established that Fox was going to help with the jedi’s case. Where was this going?
Another jedi filled the silence this time, a humanoid with dark skin. “Knight Vos here has also told us of the Coruscant Guard’s exemplary investigative work. We think it might be beneficial for him and your men to work together on a more…permanent basis. Where you would receive his help in exchange for the resources provided by a larger task force that he might need for certain operations. Of course, nothing that would impede your current responsibilities. What do you think, Commander?” Fox stared at him behind his visor.
A permanent jedi? Working with them day in and day out? A natborn in their headquarters that they had to obey no matter what? Fox thought it sounded like a special kind of hell. They’d dealt with senators that thought they weren’t worth the air they breathed, citizens that tore them up on the streets and faced no consequences, and the theft of their autonomy on the daily, but their base was theirs. No one had been able to touch them there.
Fox’s heart despaired as he thought of how unfair it all was. Shinies that would never know safety again. Veterans hanging on by a thread that would lose what little they had left. But he had learned long ago. Nothing truly belonged to the clones, and anything they had could be taken. Refusing wouldn’t stop it; it would only cost him brothers on the way.
So he resigned himself to the Guard’s fate, and forced himself to reply. “The Guard would be honored to serve the jedi however we can, sir. We are glad to do our duty in service to the Republic.”
He didn’t see Vos frowning at him, smile gone.
“Very well. Join you, Quinlan will, when ready, the details are.” Master Yoda clasped his hands together.
“Yes, you can expect to be working together very soon. May the Force be with you, Commander. Knight Vos, a word, please.” Fox took that as the dismissal he was dying for and saluted crisply before turning on his heel and walking out, Vos staying behind. He made it to the corridor and waited for the doors to close solidly behind him before he let himself breath again and leaned against the wall, his head tipped back. He felt like sobbing. His men didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this.
He worked himself to the bone already. Every minute of his day was occupied, and what little sleep he could scrounge up was in quick bursts. But managing this new operation would fall on his shoulders, and he would have to make it work. His to do list flashed across his mind, and he sighed. He didn’t even have time for his little pity party. Back to work.
As he checked his helmet comm, he saw he had endless new messages from his commanders, ranging from “Fuck you” to “You better not die, scumbag.” He smiled as he replied.
“Still alive. Wasn’t a decommissioning hearing. But don’t get too excited. I’ll explain when I’m back to base.” Fox turned off his HUD and stepped out the exit. Walking down the steps, he took a moment to appreciate the fact he wasn’t dead as he climbed on his speeder. Another day of small victories.
Chapter 5
Summary:
Fox prepares for their unwelcome guest. The Coruscant Guard wins and Fox still loses.
Chapter Text
It took 3 days for Fox to get the base ready for their unwelcome guest. If it was in the regs, Fox made sure they complied. First up, all equipment used on duty in any capacity must be issued by the GAR. Everything else had to go. They’d stripped the common room of all the furniture they’d scavenged for in the lower levels. It left it grey, barren, and with nothing to sit on but the steel floor, but Fox wasn’t taking any chances.
Fox had had to clean his own office out as well. The general had already seen it, but now Fox was his direct suboordinate. Better to be proactive than wait and see if he had stricter standards for his own men, so the trinkets and clutter that had amassed over time all had to go. He was trashing everything in bulk until he stumbled across a simple fox figurine buried underneath old flimsiwork that stopped him in his tracks. It was worn, the paint chipping on the same points where he’d run it between his fingers over and over again countless times in the past two years.
Cody gave it to him only a few months after the war started. It had been before Fox and his batch had lost contact, them bitter about Fox’s “easy” posting and Fox pushing them away to protect them from the reality of his world on Coruscant. Fox still remembered Cody’s giddy laugh as he had forced Fox to close his eyes, pushing the figurine into the open hand Fox held out as he shook his head and smiled. He had been shocked, then suspicious about where Cody had gotten it. He’d never found out.
It didn’t matter now. He gripped it tight one more time, then passed it into the bin with the rest of the trash.
The barracks were next. No personal items allowed there either, and helmets had to be on at all times if not sleeping or eating. Fox hated watching the boys’ faces drop when he told them at the briefing. The white and red mass swinging their buckets on completely in sync made them indistinguishable, and for a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of the perfect, identical soldiers the Kaminoans had strived to create. Given how rarely he had time to go to the mess, he couldn’t help but hear a tiny voice in the back of his head whisper that he would never see most of them without their helmets on again.
But hardest to adjust to were their names. Regulations stated troopers were to be identified by their numerical designations. Everyone already used numbers outside of base, but they spoke freely with each other in private. Fox had never dreamed of asking them to give that up, regardless of the consequences if anyone ever found out. In exchange for that small bit of freedom, Fox had been willing to accept the risk.
But now, the general could be around any corner, show up in any room at any time. Overhearing a trooper using a name on base wasn’t just a possibility, it was a probability. Names made them noticeable. And beyond being against regulation, if the general could identify them, it wasn’t just Fox who’d face the consequences.
He’d asked Thire—CC-4477 to deliver the news. He didn’t think he’d be able to face the men and tell them they had to become the mindless drones the Republic wanted when it was his responsibility to protect them. He was doing a pretty shit job of it.
But Fox drew the line at making Hemlock give up all the equipment and supplies he may or may not have obtained illegally for the medbay. He couldn’t stomach the idea of forcing more brothers to die needlessly just for a natborn, but he did make Hemlock hide his stores and promise only to use them when absolutely necessary—not that they had much to waste on frivolous use anyway. If the general ever found them, Fox would take responsibility.
By the time all the changes had been implemented, Fox was exhausted. And more than a little pissed off. At the jedi, the senators, the Republic, and whoever wrote the goddamn fucking regulations. But there wasn’t anything he could do but be prepared for Vos to show up at any moment.
So he carried on as usual, buried in work and at the whim of the senators. It took another 10 days for anything to change.
The troopers had been struggling with the new protocols, and morale was at an all time low. They found ways to get by, conversing without addressing each other at all so they didn’t have to use numbers and avoiding the common room so they didn’t have to face the depressing reminder of how lively it used to be. Soldiers took advantage of mess time to socialize. But it wasn’t the same. Especially when everyone was on edge waiting for the reason for all the adjustments to pop up behind their backs.
Fox was in the prison sector when he finally got the comm. “CC-1010,” Fox sighed, ignoring the indignance that sparked from the part of him still unused to using his designation on internal comm channels.
“Commander, the jedi general is here at the barracks. He’s requesting your presence specifically.” Fox’s heart jumped in his chest before he took a breath. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. No use postponing it.
“Thank you, trooper. Please ask him to wait in my office.” Fox hadn’t heard any word from Vos since the Council meeting. He was as in the dark about the whole situation as the the rest of them. But there was only one way to find out.
He made it to base in record time, passing the front desk on his way in. “He’s waiting for you, Commander,” the trooper manning it said. “Thank you, Tra—“ Fox cut himself off with a cough. “CT-2384,” he finished. He cursed himself as he approached his newly spotless office. What was the point of these rules if Fox himself couldn’t even remember to follow them? He was too distracted with this jedi business. Yet another reason to bail on the whole idea. He huffed as he reached his door, pausing for a moment to collect himself before he entered.
The general was standing in the center of the room, his arms clasped behind his back and facing away from the door. He turned when Fox came in and threw his hands up.
“Commander! Good to see you again. As my new official partner, this time.” He grinned as he shook off Fox’s salute with a wave of his hand. “Still doing that stuff, huh? Whatever, we have time to fix that. I know you’re busy, so I’ll keep this short. I’m just here to pass on the details of the arrangement from the Council and answer any questions you may have before I get out of your hair. I’m actually working a case right now, so I’ll let you know if I need the Guard’s help. Sound good?”
Taken aback, all Fox managed to stutter out was, “Sounds good, sir.” At least he would finally understand how all of this was going to work.
Vos clapped his hands together and spun around, sitting in the chair in front of Fox’s desk. “Then have a seat, Commander, and we’ll get started.”
By the end of it, Vos had detailed a plan that sounded suprisingly feasible, if not invasive as hell. Vos would have access to the Guard’s databases himself, meaning that he wouldn’t need to pull anyone off shift to assist him when he wanted information. The Guard’s help with investigations could be required on things outside their jurisdiction that fell under the jedi’s purview, but in exchange for the time and personnel required for those assignments, Vos would also be taking on a portion of the Guard’s cases. And much to Vos’s dismay, as he told Fox, Vos would be in charge of completing the datawork for each case that they partnered on.
All in all, it sounded sensible enough. It sounded like the Guard might even have the better half of the deal. Datawork was the most time-consuming part of an investigation. Fox was sure he and the investigative teams would still have to give statements for each partnered case, but even with that, their workload could be cut in half. And if no one but Fox was going to be taken off shift to deal with Vos and his whims, Fox would call that a win.
“So that’s everything. I’ll coordinate directly with you when I need the Guard’s help. Any questions?” Vos stared at him expectantly. Fox really only had one question, but he didn’t know how to ask it. All his previous attempts had been misdirected or ignored. Maybe Vos didn’t like to acknowledge it. But Fox was getting real tired of wondering when Vos was going to collect, especially now that they would be working in such close quarters.
He cleared his throat. “How often will you be requiring my services, General?” The general hummed and brought his hand to stroke his chin. “I’d say biweekly meetings are probably sufficient to start, and then we can see what comes up on a case by case basis. Does that work?”
Fox was glad he had the protection of his helmet, because his jaw dropped. Every two weeks? Or even more? He was expecting once every few months or so, maybe less if he was lucky. Two weeks? He would barely have time to recover. Even the most audacious senators weren’t that demanding of him.
Ridiculously, he felt tears welling in his eyes at the prospect. He was being silly. This was his job. He would do it so that his brothers didn’t have to. He bit the inside of his check and tried to keep his tone professional. He would give no sign that he was affected. That was only for his brothers to see.
“Absolutely, sir. I’m at your command.” Underneath the table, Fox dug his fingernails into his palms so hard he drew blood.
Vos smiled at him. “Very good. I think that’s all I have for you—actually, wait. I did have one question. What happened to all your stuff in here?” Fox blinked, waiting for the general to smile, or explain. When neither came, he hesitatingly said, “It was against protocol, sir. I thought it’d be best to take care of it before our arrangement.”
Vos frowned. “Why?” Fox thought back to all the time the general had spent examining the junk in his past visits and wondered if maybe clearing it out had been the wrong way to go. Fuck. How was he supposed to know Vos wanted him to keep it?
“Apologies, sir, I assumed you would prefer me to stick to regulations. I accept whatever punishment—“
“Chill out, Commander. It’s up to you. I just thought you kept all of it for a reason.” Vos shrugged. “I don’t really care about protocol. You probably haven’t had a chance to notice yet, but I’m a bit unorthodox. If you want to have stuff that’s against protocol, I’m not going to stop you. It’s your office,” Vos pointed out, then paused. “Is that why you won’t tell me your name?”
Fox froze as his heart began to race. “Sir, I’ve already informed you that my designation is CC-1010.” The jedi couldn’t know about their names. His men had been so careful, even when it killed them to do it. Vos had been here for five minutes. No one could have slipped.
“Woah, calm down, Commander. I’m not angry or anything. All the other jedi have mentioned their clone commanders have names, so I just assumed it was the same for you. If you don’t have one or you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. Just wondering.” His eyes were trained on Fox’s visor, and his gaze was so accurate he would’ve sworn Vos could see through the tinting if he didn’t know that was impossible.
Fox had a chance here. He could test the waters by giving his own name and not risk anyone else. If the general is telling the truth, maybe the clones could go back to using names in the barracks. But then he might have to endure Vos calling him by his name during punishments or while servicing him. Names were sacred to the clones. No senator had ever had that power over him, and the thought of it made his stomach crawl.
Yet he wouldn’t be who he was if he didn’t put his men’s wellbeing first. He took the plunge. “It’s Fox, sir.” Vos’s face lit up. “Excellent. Well, nice to officially meet you, Commander Fox. I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership.” He grinned as he held out his gloved hand.
Fox stared at it, frozen, before his brain got past the shock. He’d seen natborns use the greeting with each other, but no one had ever extended it to him before. He realized he’d spaced out for too long and scolded himself for looking like a awe-struck tubie, extending his hand to clasp it around the general’s. Vos’s grip was firm, but not painful. Vos took his hand back, oblivious to Fox’s internal struggle and leaving him reeling.
“Very well. I’ll see you in two weeks then, Commander.” Vos smiled unassumingly. Fox shoved down the bitter despair he felt at the reminder and tried to look on the bright side. The Guard would get a significant reduction in their work, and Vos would only be at the base by appointment when he wanted to see Fox. This was fine. This was good. His men were going to be fine. He would do this for them, and they would live.
If Fox wished deep down someone would take a blow for him every once in awhile, it was no one’s business but his own.
Chapter 6
Summary:
Fox and Quinlan reach the root of their misunderstanding.
(Mind the tags)
Chapter Text
After that meeting, Fox passed down the order to tentatively scale back the restrictions he’d put in place. Troopers went back to using names inside the barracks with caution, and the common room was reequipped with items that could be easily and quickly hidden if needed. Morale skyrocketed, and the Guard felt settled again. This was sustainable, Fox thought.
Except for the pool of dread that grew in his stomach with each passing day as Vos’s first “appointment” drew near. Fox’s limited sleep time was spent agonizing over how it would go down, and it was only made worse by the knowledge there would be no escape, no break. Whatever Vos decided to do to him, he would have two weeks to heal and prepare himself before the cycle would start all over again. In perpetuity.
There was no uncertainty, and no hope.
He hadn’t told Thorn, Thire, or Stone about that part of the arrangement yet. He knew they would protest, and they would worry about him, but just like Fox, there would be nothing they could do. No point adding to the helpless burdens they already carried.
But when it came to the night before his first scheduled meeting, Fox wondered if that was the wrong move. Vos was a jedi. Fox had seen his strength with his own two eyes. His fellow commanders were smart. If Fox was incapacitated tomorrow, and every two weeks for the foreseeable future, the jig would be up almost immediately.
But he still decided to wait and see if he would be able to patch himself up on his own. Involving his men meant putting them at risk if Vos liked to keep his extracurricular activities secret. If Fox didn’t have to resort to exposing them, he wouldn’t. Even if it meant dealing with it alone.
So that’s what he did. When Vos commed him the following morning to let him know he’d be stopping by around midday, Fox responded with his confirmation and tried to get as much work done ahead of time as possible. Who knew when he’d next be able to function at full capacity?
He had been staring at the same document for 15 minutes without seeing a word of it when his comm finally lit up. He flinched, then berated himself for his jumpiness before answering it. “Commander Fox,” he said gruffly.
“Sir, General Vos is here to see you.” Fox’s sliver of hope of getting out of this was stamped out.
“Thank you, trooper. Send him back.” Fox stood, hesitating at his helmet resting on the side of the desk. Vos would certainly ask him to remove it as soon as they started. Fox wouldn’t be able to use his mouth otherwise. But the thought of the barrier, however temporary, offered a safety Fox was too weak to turn down. He slipped it on over his head before moving to kneel in front of his desk with his hands behind his back. He might not know exactly what Vos had planned, but these appointments almost always started exactly the same.
He took a deep breath. Just a few more minutes before he could let his mind drift. He had to stay focused to receive his instructions, and then he could fall back on habit. He could do this. A tentative calm came over him.
And then the door chimed. And slid open, revealing Vos in his usual robes with his usual grin on his face. Fox couldn’t give a reason, but he had expected the jedi to finally drop the goofy mask. He had hoped for it. Fox was tired of the pretending. And he especially didn’t want to deal with it when the contradiction in Vos’s actions would be so glaringly obvious.
But perhaps he had spoken too soon, because immediately upon laying eyes on Fox on the ground, the smile vanished. A frown took its place. Fox took a shaky inhale that he tried to silence.
“Fox?” Vos stopped in his tracks in the doorway. “What are you doing?”
Some of them liked to start by making him offer his consent. So that they could lord it over him later, remind him that he’d wanted this. Fox hadn’t thought Vos was one of those. But Coruscant was full of liars.
“I’m at your command, sir. I am happy to comply with whatever services you may require of me.” Fox recited.
“What?” Vos’s mouth was hanging open. Fox sighed internally; he didn’t usually have to keep the act up this long. But maybe Vos wanted him to take the initiative. He could play along.
“I am here to please you however you wish, sir. Would you like me to remove my armor?” At that point, Fox just wanted him to say yes so they could get on with it.
But instead of a salacious leer, a look of digust crossed Vos’s face. Fuck. Maybe Vos was planning on this being violent, not sexual. Not that it couldn’t be both. Either way, Fox had said something wrong.
Fear shot through him. Vos had control over all the Guard now. If Fox messed up, Vos could take it out on any one of them.
He rushed to fix his unknown mistake. “I did not mean to be presumptuous, sir. Please forgive me.” Fox bowed his head where he was still kneeling. “If you’d tell me how you’d like me, perhaps I can be more accomodating?” He let the tiniest bit of hope drip into his words at the end of his question. He would do anything to avoid Vos punishing his men.
Vos was silent, but Fox saw him start to approach out of the corner of his vision. He didn’t dare pick his head back up until he’d gotten instructions to do so. Every step sounded like thunder to Fox’s ears, and his anxiety grew with each one. He didn’t realize he’d started shaking until Vos’s boots were planted directly in his line of sight.
“Fox.” He’d never heard Vos’s voice sound so deadly. He gulped.
“Yes, sir?”
“Look at me.” Fox was terrified of what he’d find in the jedi’s eyes. But he’d finally gotten instructions. He would follow them, just like he was made to do.
When Fox made eye contact, Vos placed a hand on his shoulder. Fox flinched and waited for the grip to become painful, burning. It didn’t.
“Sir?” Fox asked hesistantly. He had no clue what was happening. He wished Vos would do something normal so that at least Fox would know how to react.
But Vos just stared down at him, anger burning behind his eyes while a deep sadness showed in every line of his face. When he finally spoke, it was at a whisper. “Fox, get up.” Vos held out a hand.
At last, an order. Fox bolted to his feet, gripping Vos’s wrist merely for show since it was clear the jedi wanted him to take it. He stood at attention waiting for the next command.
“Who taught you that, Commander?” Vos’s voice sounded strange, out of sorts. Fox didn’t know what he meant. He tried to guess.
“I’ve had significant practice servicing some of the most powerful officials in the Republic, sir. I assure you, I am well trained,” Fox emphasized. If Vos thought it would be a skill issue, he needn’t worry. Fox could give a blowjob in his sleep, and getting fucked on autopilot was an art he perfected long ago.
Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say, because Vos’s face got more solemn. “I see.” He sounded almost strangled. “And you were prepared to offer me these services as well?” He did not sound pleased about that prospect.
Shit shit shit. Maybe Vos didn’t like damaged goods? Fox felt an absurd desire to laugh. Good luck finding a single clone on Coruscant that wasn’t damaged. But he still tried to salvage the situation however he could. “Of course, sir. As my superior, I am duty-bound to perform however you wish at any time.” He decided to give it one last ditch attempt. “If I’ve been unsatisfactory, I’m sure I could improve my performance if you’d just—“
“Stop.” Vos cut him off sharply, fingers pinching his brow. They sat in silence until Vos spoke again, his voice hard. “I’m not going to rape you, Fox.”
Fox’s mouth dropped open. Vos could not be serious. That’s why he was upset? Fox hadn’t said anything like that! He bit back his frustration. “Of course, sir, I would never imply such impropriety on your part—“
The jedi shook his head and groaned. Fox stopped talking again. “Fox, you’re not hearing me. I don’t give a fuck what you call it. I’m not putting my hands on you.” He emphasized every word of the statement, and took a step back.
Fox was beyond confusion. “I…see, sir. What would you like me to do, then?” Vos growled frustratedly, then seemed to deflate.
“Commander. I don’t want you to do anything. If I had known this is what you expected of me, I would have clarified immediately.” Fox blinked. Clarified what? Were his services… not going to be required?
Vos pushed on, though he looked more empty now than anything else. “I will never, ever ask you to use your body to ‘service’ me. I will never use physical punishment on you. And if I ever violate these rules, you go straight to the Council and report me.” His voice was low when he spoke, but full of conviction.
Fox almost found himself believing him. But he couldn’t let Vos’s misunderstanding persist. What would happen to Fox when Vos talked to another natborn who told him how things really worked?
“Sir, it’s perfectly legal.” Fox tried to sound encouraging. “There’s nothing to report. You don’t have to worry.”
“Legal?” Vos exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “How is any of this legal?”
At least this, Fox was prepared to answer. He had given this speech to more shinies than he could count. “Clones are considered property of the Republic, sir. The Coruscant Guard’s main function is to serve and defend Coruscant, making us subject to the orders of any of our direct superiors. As property, our direct superiors constitute any natural-born person on the planet.”
Fox continued. “It isn’t rape, sir. You can’t rape things that aren’t sentient.”
Vos just stared, speechless. Fox didn’t know what he’d said.
“Fox…we had no idea. I had no idea.” Vos looked horrified. Fox scoffed inwardly. What a joke. The Guard’s forced arrangement with the natborns was already an open secret in the Senate. You couldn’t throw a stone 10 feet without hitting a senator who had used one of his brothers. If the jedi didn’t know, it was because they didn’t want to.
Vos gripped the wall. “Just how widespread is this?”
Fox shifted. If Vos really didn’t know, Fox didn’t want him to get any ideas. But he wouldn’t deny what his brothers had sacrificed. “All members of the Coruscant Guard are prepared to serve the Republic however they are asked, sir.”
Vos grimaced before he wiped his face of the emotion. “I see. And who’s doing the asking?” His voice was like ice. Fox bit his cheek. The Chancellor would have his head for betraying his closest allies. He felt a phantom pain all over his body at the thought of the punishment. He’d have burns for days...
Then he shook his head. Where had that thought come from? The Chancellor had never hurt him. Fox was getting delirious.
Vos took his silence for the refusal to answer that it was. “I see,” he sighed, then crossed his arms. “I know I can’t offer you much consolation right now. You have absolutely no reason to trust me.” Vos looked him directly in the eye. “But you have my word, this won't go on any longer. The Council assigned me to the Guard. Protecting you is my job now. I'm going to help. And I’m going to prove it to you. So the next time you or one of your men get asked to ‘serve the Republic’ by some power-hungry asshole, you direct that person to me, and I’ll tell them to fuck right off. Got that?”
His naivete was adorable. Even if the jedi wanted to stop it, they wouldn’t be able to. Only the Chancellor had that kind of power. But it was safer to appease Vos. “Yes, sir.”
Vos reached out like he was going to touch Fox’s shoulder again, but then seemed to think better of it. “Good.” He sounded demoralized. Welcome to the club, Fox thought.
They stood in silence, neither knowing what to do next.
“I think it’s best if we postpone our discussion of the investigation, Commander.” His rank was back. He already missed being “Fox.” That was strange; he had never liked natborns calling him by his name before.
“Yes, sir. I’m available at your earliest convenience to reschedule.”
Vos tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt. “Thank you, Commander. I’ll be reaching out shortly. Remember what I said, Fox.” But there it was again. That little flutter in his stomach at his name. Maybe he should see a medic after all.
“Of course, sir. I’ll see you out.”
With Vos gone, Fox had a minute to sit at his desk in stunned silence. He felt numb. He'd made it through the whole meeting without anything happening at all. He'd never been so grateful. But before long, the exhaustion he'd suppressed the past two weeks started to tug at him, and the constant state of confusion and fear he'd been in all afternoon was catching up. So with a yawn, he laid his head down on his arms and made a mental note to wake up before anyone caught him sleeping in his office again.
Vos's words drifted through his head once more, but he put them aside. Whatever promises Vos made, they could wait until Fox got a chance to sleep.
Chapter 7
Summary:
Fox waits to see if Vos will follow through.
Notes:
It's been a lot longer than I planned since the last update, but I haven't abandoned this fic! Just been busy. Hope this slightly longer chapter makes up for it :D
Chapter Text
Fox woke up 4 hours later to the blaring of his comm. He fumbled for it in the dark of his bunkroom as he blearily rubbed a hand over his eyes. “What is it?” He grumbled.
“Sir, Commander Thire says a senator is requesting your assistance in the Senate immediately. Sending you the location.”
Adrenaline flooded his veins, and his eyes shot open. “On my way.” Fox started throwing on his armor before the trooper’s voice came through again.
“Sir…He was using numbers.” Fox stilled. Regardless of Fox’s rules about sharing names with natborns, they still used names with each other unless a threat was present. If Thire was using clones’ numbers, the senator listening was too dangerous to even overhear that clones had non-numerical identifiers. In that case, Fox did not have much time to diffuse the situation before decommissioning got put on the table.
“Understood. Tell Thire I’m coming. And,” he paused. His latest orders from the jedi surfaced in his mind. “Send Vos a low-priority message. Just tell him there’s an altercation in the Senate, tell him where and with who, and leave it at that.” If Vos wanted to be kept in the loop, Fox could do that. It was time to see if he’d follow through on his lofty promises. Then, Fox put everything out of his mind except getting to Thire.
By the time Fox reached him, things had escalated far beyond a simple Senate call. A shiny was standing off to the side at perfect attention, his shoulders trembling minutely. Thire himself was backed against the wall, helmet off and the humanoid senator gripping his chin roughly. Thire was keeping a straight face, but Fox saw his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. Time to step in.
“Senator Syringa, if you please, what seems to be the problem?” Fox positioned himself directly behind the senator, so that he had to turn away from Thire to face Fox.
When he did, Fox wasn’t prepared for the sight of the senator’s rage. He rather gave Fox the impression of a rabid dog.
“And you! Taking your sweet time, aren’t you, clone?” Spittle flecked Fox’s visor. “As I was telling your useless counterpart, it is your duty to serve me, and you are all failing epically. I demand that you decommission both of these useless fools, and maybe I’ll spare you.” Fox’s eyes widened behind his helmet. Decommissioning requests for shinies were fairly common—and fairly easy to evade—but for a commander? No way could they slip that one under the rug.
“Sir, I understand discipline is in order, but perhaps the situation can still be resolved. What seems to be the problem?” Fox hedged.
The senator placed his hands on his hips and huffed. “The problem, clone, is that your troopers were neglecting my safety! I told them I was in dire need of immediate protection, and they ignored me. So you tell me how else you’d resolve that.”
Fox blinked. There is no way that’s what happened, but Fox couldn’t exactly ask his men for a second account right then. He needed to get the senator to leave it alone for the moment so he could find out in private. “I see, sir. As their commanding officer, I take full responsibility for their lack of training. As such, the punishment falls on me. If you’d—“
Senator Syringa turned a new shade of purple. “Don’t presume to tell me what to do, clone. You’re no better than a droid, and I will not take orders from one with faulty programming. I will see these clones decommisioned, and I will be speaking to the Chancellor of your impertinence.”
Behind the senator, Thire looked grim. He shook his head at Fox. Clearly, he had accepted his fate.
Fox felt desperation take root inside him. Thire was one of his best friends. Fox wouldn’t know how to survive losing him. He fought to keep his voice steady. “Sir, please. Commander CC-4477 is one of our most valuable officers. His tactical knowledge and strategic importance are immeasurable. There has to be some other suitable punishment that wouldn’t leave him permanently out of commission.”
The Senator hesitated. Then, a sly expression passed over his face. Before the man even opened his mouth, Fox fought the urge to gag at the obvious implications. Whoever he asked for, Fox was going to agree. It would save Thire’s life.
“Take your helmet off, clone.” Fox obeyed.
“Well, there is one solution I could think of…” Senator Syringa drew out the syllables, raising an eyebrow as he smirked and stepped closer. Only a few inches away now, Fox could feel hot breath on his face and phantom hands underneath his armor.
The leering voice dropped to a whisper. “My colleagues have told me how talented you commanders are. Perhaps if you both came for a demonstration in my office tonight, I could make an exception.” His eyes flicked to the right, where the shiny still stood. “Bring him along, too. We’ll make a party of it.” A hand reached up to caress Fox’s face in a more disgusting mirror of how Fox had found the senator with Thire. Fox dug his nails into his palms to keep still.
“Yes, sir. We’ll be there at 2100. Is there anything else we can assist you with in the meantime?” The Senator held his grip for another second before whisking his hand away as he turned.
“No, Commander. I’ll be expecting you later tonight. Don’t disappoint me.” He smirked over his shoulder as he walked away.
The three clones stood frozen long after he rounded the corner. When they finally shook out of their stupor, Thire placed a hand on the shiny’s shoulder and promised to let him skip early shift the next day. Fox let out a breath.
He spared only a brief thought to the fact that Vos had never shown up before dismissing the disappointment that shouldn’t have been there anyway. He knew what to expect from natborns. They had proved themselves over and over. And as he serviced the senator that night alongside Thire and a kid fresh off Kamino, he would remind himself of all the reasons he had not to count on them ever again.
Later that morning, Fox rubbed his hands over his face. He was sorting through the facts of the Daxel case to try to find a connection between the clone murders and his run-of-the-mill crimes, but so far the only possible thread was that Daxel was just an all-around terrible person. Maybe that’s all there was to it. He just couldn’t help feeling like there might be something more.
He was debating talking to the investigating squad on the bust they’d run to see if he’d missed anything when Thorn appeared in his doorway. Fox looked up. “Thorn. You just getting off shift now?” Fox checked his chrono. Thorn was supposed to have been in his bunk seven hours ago. There must have been a situation. Those seemed to be going around lately.
In response, Thorn merely flopped onto the the office’s tiny, lumpy couch. Fox smirked at his shins hanging over the edge. “Rough night, vod? You know where the moonshine is if you want to commiserate.”
Thorn groaned from where his face was buried in the cushion. This time, Fox let out a laugh. “Or you can just crash here. I’ll be here if you need me.” Thorn shot him a thumbs up, and Fox got back to his work problems with a smile on his face.
Or at least, he tried to, until Stone and Thire busted in giggling as well. “Boss, come on, settle this for us, will you?” Thire laughed, his arm slung around Stone’s shoulders. Stone shoved him away good-naturedly. “If your shift ends at 2 am, and you don’t sleep until after, is it last night or tomorrow morning when you get off? And if you don’t get to sleep at all, when does the switch happen?”
Stone growled and dragged a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s obviously morning since it’s after midnight! By every definition, it is tomorrow!”
Thire whipped around to face him with a finger pointed. “Aha! You said tomorrow! If you really believed it was morning, you would’ve said today!”
Stone sputtered, “What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! I was just putting it in terms your little pea brain could understand!” But Thire was already doing his victory dance.
Fox loved his brothers. He loved when they forgot the burdens they carried long enough to get into dumb arguments and laugh over nothing, especially after what happened to Thire earlier. But when he was trying to work, them being in a good mood was his greatest obstacle.
“Alright, enough!” Fox huffed. “I don’t know about you three, but some of us have work to do. If you’re off-shift, take it somewhere else. If you’re not, get back to doing your jobs.”
Thire rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet as he apologized. Stone just waved Fox off and made to go.
“One more thing,“ Fox called. They both turned back to look from the corridor. “I agree with Thire.” He barely had time to see Stone’s mouth drop and Thire’s face light up before he flipped the switch to shut the door, leaving him and Thorn in silence.
A muffled, “You’re evil,” came from the couch.
“You want to be kicked out next?” Fox asked dryly. A pair of hands raised in surrender before Thorn curled back up to sleep.
“That’s what I thought,” Fox muttered. With the distractions gone, he let his eyes swim with the details of the case once more. Maybe hallucinations would have the answers for him.
It wasn’t until the late afternoon, long after Thorn had moved to the actual bunkroom, that Fox was disturbed again. A ping on his comm let him know General Vos was there to see him. Though his stomach no longer dropped at such news, he still didn’t know what they had to talk about. They had agreed to schedule their next brief on the case after one of them came up with a new lead. The only other thing Fox could think of was the notification about incident that morning.
Maybe he was here to tell Fox not to bother him with petty disagreements. Even though Vos had specifically asked to know. Whatever. Only one way to find out.
“Send him back.” Fox replied. He didn’t even bother to put on his helmet. He doubted Vos would care.
A few minutes later, Vos knocked, then burst in in a flurry of movement. Fox was taken aback. He had only ever seen the jedi calm, cool, and collected.
“Sir? Is everything alright?”
Vos looked at him in disbelief. “No, everything is not alright. What happened with Thire in the Senate this morning? I was undercover, and when I got back to my regular comm an hour ago, I saw that he was in trouble with a senator. I came straight here. Is he ok?”
Fox had to process for a minute with how quickly Vos was speaking. He hadn’t received the message? That was why he hadn’t come? Fox let himself revisit his evaluation of Vos’s absence that morning before he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. Whether on purpose or unintentional, what good was promised support if you couldn’t follow through, whatever the reason? Vos shouldn’t be making promises he couldn’t keep.
“Yes sir, Commander Thire is fine. A senator was requesting he and another trooper be punished for a lapse in duties, but the situation has been resolved.”
Fox had been doing his best to put the “party” he’d be attending that night out of his mind, but being confronted with it again drudged up another wave of dread and helplessness.
Vos frowned. “I see. Resolved how? I’d like a full account, if you don’t mind, Fox.”
Fox held back his sigh. Life was so much easier when he only had to report to the Chancellor. “The problem was with a perceived failure to execute the entirety of their duties. As their commanding officer, I took full responsibility for their lack of understanding of the scope of their responsibilities and asked that the punishment be taken out on me. The Senator agreed to a lesser punishment for both Thire and the other trooper if I shared it as well. We are to report to the senator’s office later tonight to receive it.”
Vos let his mouth fall open. “That’s your definition of resolved? What did Thire and the trooper do?”
The jedi’s response put Fox on the defensive, and he felt an inherent need to explain. He’d debriefed Thire and the shiny as soon as they had gotten back to base. They confirmed what Fox already knew: the senator was in the wrong.
“They were on patrol in the Senate when the representative called them away from their duties to inspect a threat in his office. What the senator had thought was a spy in the vents turned out to be a cleaning droid caught in the grate. The men thought the issue resolved and had to return to their patrol, but the senator wanted them to stay as a personal protection detail. Thire tried to explain to him that round-the-clock protection in non-life-threatening situations fell to the Senate Guard, but the senator did not agree. He felt that their impertinence had to be punished, and that’s where I stepped in.”
Fox was pretty sure there was only one side to take from that story, but he still waited to hear what Vos thought. After all, natborns looked out for each other. He didn’t have to wait long.
“What the fuck? You’re all being punished because a senator didn’t want the division that literally has “Senate Guard” in the name to protect him?” Vos paced the tiny office, then turned back to Fox with his arms crossed. “That’s ridiculous. What senator? And what does he want to do to you guys?”
Fox hesitated and averted his eyes. It was an open secret, yes, but he’d never had to acknowledge it outright to a superior that wasn’t involved. Maybe Vos didn’t want to participate, but that didn’t mean he would actually intervene.
Still, Fox decided to give him one more chance to follow through on his promises now that he was actually present, and made eye contact once more.
“We are to provide Senator Syringa with a private demonstration, sir.” Fox prayed he didn’t have to spell it out.
Then again, when did Fox ever get what he wanted?
“A demonstration of what?” Vos asked.
Fox felt his cheeks heating, even though he knew what was going to happen was no reflection of him. But the shame still burned at an outsider knowing. It was the same reason he had never said a word to his batchmates.
“Of…” he trailed off and furrowed his brow. How could he put this? He decided to be as delicate as possible.
“Of our ability to perform for the senator and meet his requests to his standards.” As an after thought, he added, “Any of his requests.” Fox rolled his shoulders back to steady himself and finished, “We’ll be going at 2100 tonight.”
Vos’s gaze darkened. “Like hell you will. Just to clarify, you’re saying the senator is going to make you perform sexually. You, Commander Thire, and a trooper who’s probably greener than fucking grass. Right?”
Vos sounded angry. Fox was surprised. But still, he nodded.
"And he's pulled this kind of shit before?"
Fox wasn't sure why that was relevant right now, but he nodded again.
Vos looked pissed. “Fox, you three are not going anywhere near that scumbag tonight, you understand? I’m going to take care of this.”
Fox didn’t even get a chance to respond before Vos turned and stormed out.
He wasn’t going to mention this to Thire or the other trooper. They would be showing up to their appointment whatever Vos said, because if they didn’t, and Vos failed? Decommissioning of three troopers would be the least of the Guard’s worries.
He didn’t know whether or not Vos would come through for them. But deep, deep down, he figured it was alright for him to harbor a tiny sliver of hope, as long as he kept it locked up tight. That way, there was no one to disappoint but himself.
He didn’t hear another word from Vos until his chrono read 45 minutes from when they were supposed to meet the senator. All the comm message read was Done.
Fox didn’t know what to make of that until the three of them reached the senator’s quarters, only to find them taped off as people filtered in and out. The clones looked on in amazement at the body of Senator Syringa slumped at his desk, and Fox heard the coroner say the words “heart attack” and “stress.” Fox was too in shock to do anything but stand there like an idiot. He just watched the room bustling with police droids, Senate Guards, and there, in the corner, observing with a grim smile, Quinlan Vos.
Chapter 8
Summary:
Hi y'all, posting this as proof this has not been abandoned! Got super busy with everything, and didn't have much writing motivation or energy. This isn't as long as I'd hoped, but we are finally getting somewhere with the plot.
Not sure when the next update will be, but I will try to do it asap. Next chapter will be back to Quinlan and Fox's regularly scheduled angsty programming.
Chapter Text
Things had gotten slightly better for the Guard after Vos’s “intervention.” No one seemed to suspect the general of anything, and Fox sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it. In return, it seemed Vos was going to continue intervening. No one else had died, thankfully—not that Fox was particularly attached to any of them, but an ever growing trail of bodies might be difficult to keep explaining away. But every time an incident started to escalate, someone commed Vos, and he dealt with it.
Fox might have been worried that this would enrage the senators into seeking further retribution in private, but he had to give Vos credit for his savvy. It seemed somewhere along the way, he’d learned that there were some senators that you did not want to piss off.
So, Vos’s solutions were to either escort the clones in question away to “deal with them” himself, or to correct the senator’s actions in the most saccharine way possible, making them feel like he commiserated with whatever unfortunate circumstances had led to them assaulting a shiny. So far, he’d had a 100% success rate.
Fox had to admit, it was amazing. But then he’d remember that Vos could collect on his good will at any time, and even if he’d promised not to lay a hand on Fox or anyone else, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask for something. The Chancellor had never touched Fox, and he still made life a living hell for Fox and his men. Palpatine acted like it was regrettable, of course, using empty platitudes like “I wish it could be different” and “you understand it’s for the best, don’t you, Commander?” as he cut the Guard’s rations in half, rerouted their medical supplies to the front, and signed decom orders for whole squadrons at a time. But the apologetic delivery didn’t change the cold facts.
Despite all Vos’s flowery language about the Guard deserving better, he was still a natborn. Fox had to keep reminding himself that nothing was off the table, whatever Vos said.
But in the meantime, Vos’s extra help with the senators had freed up Fox’s schedule to focus on the Daxel investigation. He still hadn’t been able to find any connection between his usual petty crimes and the murder of the clones, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Then again, Daxel might have just picked up a new hobby.
But it felt like something bigger was going on. Fox just had to find out what it was. So he was going to the lower levels to talk to Daxel’s known associates. But he had a stop to make first.
He opened the door to the ARF office. “Hey Hound, think you can lend me those civvies you stole last month for the supply run?”
An unhelmeted head popped up from behind a kennel. “Commander! Didn’t see you there. One second!” The head dipped back down, and Fox heard a crash followed by a curse before Hound stood up fully and threw him a lazy salute.
“Sorry, sir, what did you need again? Grizzer here won’t let me keep a single thought straight in my head.” He gestured with a sheepish smile on his face to the massiff pup whining in the crate in front of him. It looked too small to get in the way of anything, let alone Hound’s actual duties, but Fox let it go.
“The civvies, Hound. I’m going to the lower levels and I need to blend in. Do you have them?” Fox huffed.
Hound’s face lit up in recognition. “The civvies! Yes, I have them. Give me one second,” and then he turned and disappeared behind a stockpile of crates. What was in them, Fox had no idea, because it was definitely nothing sanctioned by the GAR. But the ARF boys were in charge of their extracurricular supply runs, and Fox was on a need-to-know basis. As long as the Guard got the medical supplies and food they needed, Fox didn’t care to know where it all came from.
Apparently, Hound didn’t know what was in them either, because Fox heard him digging through several crates before he finally cried, “Aha! Got ‘em,” and barrelled back into sight. “Here you are, sir! They’re filthy enough to get you down at least two thousand levels before anyone notices something amiss.” He grinned broadly as he held out the clothes.
Fox almost wrinkled his nose at the smell, but Hound looked so proud of them that he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Good work, Hound. These’ll do nicely. Thanks for the help.” He grabbed the clothes and subtly tried not to let them touch his pristine armor. The last thing he needed was to stain it and get a complaint lodged against him from some senator who thought anything less than perfection was grounds for decommissioning.
Then he wondered if Vos had the power to fight a decom request if one came in. And if he would even try. It was one thing to talk a senator out of it before they filed it, but once it was on record, there was nothing anyone could do. Well, nothing Fox could do, and nothing the chancellor was willing to do. But Fox didn’t let himself go down that rabbit hole. He shouldn’t expect anything of Vos, and then he’d never be disappointed.
“Glad to be of service, sir. Let me know if you need anything else!” Hound was practically bouncing on his heels as Fox shook his head and smiled. How the young trooper kept up his endless enthusiasm, nobody knew, but Fox would be damned before he let anyone try to take it away.
Now Fox just had to get changed and he’d be ready. Once he’d locked his armor safely away in his office, he sent a message to Thorn to let him know not to expect him til late and putting him in charge. He was just leaving the base, rounding the corner to the landing bay to catch a transport down to the lower levels, when he ran into Vos. Literally. Fox stumbled back, surprised, then felt his brain catch up to him.
“Sir! My sincerest apologies. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Fox held his spine as straight as he could, the instinctive flicker of fear at upsetting a superior nestling in his stomach like a rock. But Vos just waved him off, grinning.
“It was my fault, Commander.” But then Vos took in Fox’s outfit, and he raised an eyebrow. Fox had a split second to remember he wasn’t wearing his armor and wonder how the hell Vos recognized him before he flipped into explanation mode. Clones were not supposed to be out of uniform, ever. Clones defintely weren’t supposed to have disguises to go on illegal missions in the lower levels.
He decided to play it cool and pray Vos didn’t call him on it. “I’m running reconnaissance for a case, sir. Best to blend in.” Rather than question him, Vos’s face lit up.
“You’re going undercover! My favorite. You want any help? I’m pretty good at…blending.” He wiggled his fingers in what Fox imagined was a pantomime of whatever force magic the jedi used to turn invisible or something. Fox sighed internally. Once again, he was forced to go along with the whims of a natborn with complete disregard to his own plans. Now he was going to be under a microscope the whole time, which definitely ruled out camping in the Guard safe house 200 levels down that they kept for emergencies.
Great.
“Of course, sir. Whatever you want.” But rather than getting in step with Fox, Vos’s brows pinched together.
“That seems to be your favorite phrase, Fox.” Fox frowned. What the fuck did that mean? “But actually, I’ve just remembered I’m needed at the Temple. I’m sure you’re more than capable being left to your own devices. If you need me, you have my comm.” And with that, the general strode away back from where he’d come.
Well, Fox wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Vos may be weird, but at least he was leaving.
Once he was out of sight, Fox continued his descent to the underworld.
His left foot was falling asleep. Fox wiggled his toes in an attempt to regain feeling, but it was no use. The pinpricks of the needles were only getting stronger. He sighed, considering whether it was worth it to give up his position overlooking the alleyway where one of Daxel’s associates, lowlife arms dealer Mondor Teegue, was negotiating some kind of weapons deal.
On one hand, Fox had been flitting between seedy bars and shoddy rooftops for the past seven hours, and all he’d uncovered was that these people couldn’t give a shit about anything other than sex, money, drugs, and guns.
But on the other, the more he learned about Daxel’s friends—who they were, where they spent their time, how they communicated with each other—the better chance he had of finding a connection that could lead him to Daxel’s motive. Fox doubted Daxel would even notice a clone on the street, let alone go through the trouble of killing them, without someone paying him to do it. He just didn’t seem like he could be bothered. So why go out of his way to stomp on something as insignificant as an ant?
But so far, Fox had nothing. Each one of Daxel’s “colleagues” seemed just as indifferent as the last. Teegue was no exception.
So fuck it. He was going home. It was only out of sheer luck he hadn’t received a summons from the chancellor by then anyways, and the longer he dragged on, the greater chance someone would notice he was gone.
Fox rolled away from the edge of the rooftop, keeping out of sight as he stood up. Another day, wasted. He dragged a hand down his face. But just as he was turning away, he heard a new, tinny voice from below. A holocall.
Fox whipped his head around. Maybe this was the big boss, the person they were calling for approval. He peeked over the edge. Teegue had stepped away, holding a holoprojector in his palm that displayed an unidentifiable cloaked figure. Something told Fox to keep watching.
The hologram was shaky, Teegue’s hand unsteady. He was stuttering as he apologized for something, though Fox wasn’t sure what. The hologram figure raised a hand, and Teegue cut himself off immediately. Whatever was being said, it made the blood drain from Teegue’s face.
Hmm. Whoever this new guy was, Fox was definitely interested. He cursed the fact he didn’t have a holotrace device on him. Oh well. Looked like he’d have to get this information the old-fashioned way.
Once Teegue ended the call, he shook off all signs of distress, turning back to his shady friends. “Looks like we’ll have to finish this another time. Urgent business on the surface. You understand, of course.” Teegue shot them all a smarmy smile. “Please give the big man my regards. And for future reference, tell him I don’t negotiate with goons. Next time, I want a meeting face to face.” With that, Teegue pushed past them back onto the crowded street. He had blended into the throngs of passersby before the others could even pick their jaws off the ground.
But Fox wouldn’t be fooled so easily. He was determined to find out who the new mystery player was. So he followed Teegue’s movements from the rooftops, propelling himself across the grimy, dingy surfaces that felt one indelicate landing away from collapsing. His legs were burning by the time Teegue finally started to break away from the crowd.
Fox knew Teegue was on his way back to his transport, so he had to intercept him before he reached it if he wanted any chance of answers. He just needed to wait for the right moment to pounce.
It came when Teegue was merely a few blocks away from his shuttle, in a lonely street surrounded by shuttered windows and no one around to care enough to be disturbed.
Fox scaled a sewage pipe down the side of a building, staying the shadows. He didn’t want Teegue to see him coming.
But regardless of appearances, the guy wasn’t a complete moron. Fox was behind a pillar only a few yards away when the sounds of Teegue’s footsteps ceased.
“Who’s there?” He called out. He didn’t sound particularly afraid. Yet.
Fox could change that. So he waited until Teegue started walking again to jump him.
Teegue must’ve felt the shift in the air behind him, because he turned to meet Fox head on at the last second. It did nothing to stop Fox’s impact.
He feinted to the left, drawing a blow from Teegue that hit nothing but air before Fox clocked him with his rear arm. Teegue stumbled, but recovered with a vengeance. It would take more than that to down him.
Good thing Fox was undefeated in hand-to-hand on Kamino. Teegue was big, but Fox was faster. When Teegue dove for him with a roar, Fox sidestepped neatly and let Teegue’s momentum carry him right into the knee Fox drove into his gut. As Teegue bent over double, Fox dropped to swipe his feet out from under him with a kick.
Teegue’s head hit the ground with a sharp crack. Fox moved to put him in a headlock, but he underestimated how much damage the fall had done. When Fox wrapped his arm around Teegue’s neck, Teegue swung an elbow right into Fox’s gut. Fox huffed, the wind knocked out of him as he shoved himself away.
Teegue got up and followed, looking to put his foot through Fox’s ribs as he caught his breath on all fours. But just as Teegue lined up the blow, Fox rolled to the side at the last minute, getting both his hands on Teegue’s ankle and pulling as hard as he could.
The result was Teegue falling backward again, and this time, Fox didn’t waste his shot. He immediately jumped on Teegue, straddling his hips as Fox wrapped his hands around Teegue’s throat.
Teegue clawed at Fox’s arms, but it was no use. Fox’s grip was solid, and after another minute, Teegue’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Fox gave it another few seconds to be sure it was genuine before he released the lowlife.
He paused to catch his breath, then hauled the body onto his shoulders. He needed to get Teegue to a secure location before he started questioning him. Then, the real investigation could begin.
Chapter 9
Summary:
Fox catches a break. For the time being.
Trigger warning: torture and execution (not of any of the good guys)
Notes:
Bear with me, I have not abandoned this! Just moving at an absolute snail's pace while I try to find the motivation with all my other responsibilities. Thank you for all your comments in the meantime. The rest of this fic has been planned out, so hopefully the next chapter will come a bit faster. Sorry!
Chapter Text
Rust-colored stains mottled the cement. Fox’s gaze was fixed, unseeing, on one particular blob right where the light from the window hit the floor. His blasters twirled in his fingers mindlessly. He wasn’t used to passing time. The rare moments he had (or was forced to take) time off, he spent passed out at either his desk, his couch, or occasionally his bunk.
But now he had nothing to do but wait for Teegue, blindfolded and bound on a chair in the corner, to wake up. And he was sure taking his sweet time about it.
The cold from the stone walls Fox was leaning against had long since seeped through his thin civies. He didn’t often miss the pinching confines of his armor, but this damp, desolate safe house was making him yearn for the comfort of thermoregulation. The shelter worked in a pinch, as a halfway house for brothers escaping decommissioning or as a staging ground for off-book interrogations like the one Fox hoped to conduct. But it left a lot to be desired. Namely, any sort of comfort beyond four walls and a roof. But the Corries couldn’t afford to be picky.
Just when Fox thought he might actually go mad with boredom, Teegue’s foot twitched. Then he jerked awake wildly, thrashing in his ropes. When they didn’t budge, Teague started shouting obscenities and threats. Empty ones, Fox figured, since the man could do little more at the moment than run his mouth and writhe.
Fox wanted to groan. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. Did Teegue have to be so dramatic?
“Hey, asshole, shut the fuck up, alright? You’re giving me a headache.” But Fox’s words had the opposite of their intended effect.
“How dare you! You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with, man. If you don’t let me go right now, you’re gonna regret this, big time!”
Fox sighed. These morons were all so cliche. Kicking off the wall, he took the only other seat in the room, a rickety stool right across from Teegue that creaked as he sat down.
“Is that so? Because the way I see it, you weren’t supposed to check in with your boss until you had another update. Days from now. And no one saw me grab you from the alley. Not like you put up much of a fight for anyone to overhear anyway.”
Teegue growled and jerked forward.
Fox clicked his tongue. “Now, now, no need to be violent. Answer my questions, and you’ll be out of here in no time. Deal?” Teegue spat in Fox’s general direction. Fox rolled his eyes. They always had to choose the hard way, didn’t they?
“I’ll give you one chance. Who were you talking to on the holocall?” Fox paced as he flexed his fingers.
Teegue scoffed. “As if I’d tell you.”
Fox socked Teegue in the jaw. Teegue yowled and spit out blood. “Hey man, what the fuck?”
“I told you. Answer my questions, get out of jail free. Don’t cooperate, and we can make this as painful as necessary.”
“Listen, you have no idea what he’d do to me if I talk. You don’t give up guys like him!”
Fox growled. “Well, he’s not here right now. So you might want to worry a bit more about what I’m going to do to you.”
Fox jammed the heel of his hand up into Teegue’s nose, a crunch followed by Teegue’s screaming filling the air.
Fox pulled out the vibroblade he kept hidden under his clothes and ran the serrated edge up the bare skin on Teegue’s arm and across his chest before resting it at his neck. Teegue whimpered as he fought to keep still.
“You should know I have no qualms about killing you. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll slit your throat right here. And you won’t have to think about what your master will do to you ever again. How’s that sound?” Fox punctuated his question by digging the knife into Teegue’s shoulder and twisting.
Teegue screamed. “I don’t know who it is, really!”
Fox tore the knife out and let it drop to the floor, landing his next punch in Teegue’s gut. It knocked the wind out of him. Fox tapped his foot as he waited for Teegue to stop wheezing. Geez, this guy was pathetic.
“You expect me to believe you have no idea who you work for? Give me a break.”
“No one knows his name or who he is! He always covers his face. All I know is you do what he says, and you get paid. You fail, and you disappear. Please, I’m telling you, that’s all I know!” Tears began to run down Teegue’s face.
But Fox had caught on something he’d said. “How do you get paid? Where does the money come from?”
Teague sniffled, “I don’t know!”
Fox stepped forward to hit him again, but Teegue heard Fox’s footsteps and cringed away. “Really, the money just shows up in my account like clockwork! I don’t know where it’s from, please!” His voice rose in pitch with every word as snot dribbled from his nose.
Like Fox thought, pathetic. “Fine. You don’t know who sends it. What’s the account number?”
“It’s on my comm. Number 156739022. You can take the money, please just let me go.” Teegue cried.
Fox retreived the comm from where the rest of Teegue’s gear sat in the corner after Fox had stripped it off him. He pulled up the account and checked the transaction history. Seventeen deposits of 2,000 credits on a seemingly random basis for the past six months.
Fox froze. The first payment was dated three days after the first clone was murdered. Rage lit in his chest. 17 clones. 17 checks.
So Teegue had helped Daxel. Fox’s gaze slowly rose back to Teegue. Teegue had been there. Teegue had watched as shinies begged for their lives. Teegue had stood by while Daxel cut them to shreds. And Teegue got paid for it.
“See? It’s all there. I’m telling you, that’s all I know!” Teegue huffed, blood still dripping from his nose.
“I believe you.” Fox drew his blaster and fired two shots directly between Teegue’s eyes.
Once Fox had disintegrated the body and wiped the safe house clean of evidence, he stepped outside, massaging his bleeding knuckles and rolling his shoulders back. His dark clothes blended in with the grimy crowds on the streets, and he wove through the throngs of people until he reached the rusty speeder he knew would be waiting for him. Good ol’ Thire.
As he climbed the levels back to the surface, he mulled over what he had learned. The real identity of the figure from the holocall was still a mystery, but if he were lucky, the boys in security would be able to trace the source of the payments.
With his path clear, Fox allowed himself to zone out for the remainder of the trek. The breeze on his face and distinct lack of anyone Senate-related near him almost let him relax the stiffness he usually held himself with.
Until he caught a glimpse of the blood crusting on his hands again. A sharp pang of guilt formed in his stomach.
He felt no sympathy for someone like Teegue. Teegue had helped Daxel murder his brothers in cold blood. No, Fox didn’t feel guilty for beating the pulp out of the lowlife in service of finding justice for his brothers. He didn’t even feel guilty for shooting him. One less brother-killer on the streets.
He felt guilty for enjoying it.
“Hey Fox. Nice digs,” Thorn snickered. Fox rolled his eyes and pulled his armor out from under his bunk.
“Don’t you have a shift, Thorn?” Fox huffed as he pulled his civvie shirt over his head.
“Nope. Senator Organa let me out ahead of schedule, so I figured I’d catch some shut-eye before I relieve Stone at the prison a bit early. Besides, I wouldn’t miss this show for the world,” Thorn grinned.
Fox threw his pants at him and turned back to the wall so Thorn wouldn’t see him smiling.
“What were you doing in civvies, anyway?” Thorn laid back down and locked his fingers behind his head as he shifted to get comfortable again.
“Recon and interrogation. Hunting down a lead on the clone killers.” Thorn sat up and swung his legs out of bed, exhaustion forgotten.
“Did it pan out?”
Fox glanced at him. “I don’t think Daxel was working alone. Someone hired him and some other thugs to do it. Someone pretty high up the food chain.” Thorn didn’t move. “And I think I know how to find out who it is.”
Thorn broke out into a mirthless grin. “Then let’s go.”
By the time Fox and Thorn had dropped off the comm with the account data at the security office with instructions to make it top priority, it was time for Thorn to relieve Stone.
Fox dismissed him with a nod and weighed his own options. He had two hours before he was officially on Senate shift again.
He needed food. He hadn’t eaten in two days, and his stake out had left him exhausted and starving. He could go to the mess, show his face to his troopers. Or he could dig up a ration bar to eat in his office while he caught up on flimsiwork.
The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.
But just as he plugged in the code to his office door, his comm went off. Urgent, it beeped. Fox answered immediately. “Commander CC-1010.”
A saccharine voice replied. “Commander, please report to my office at your earliest convenience.”
“Of course, Your Excellency. I’ll be right there.” The comm went dark, and with it, any hope he had of being productive in his free time. From past experience, Fox wouldn't be done with the Chancellor likely until after the start of his next shift.
Fox stared through the open door of his office at the stacks of datapads littering his desk. Requisition forms for rations, supplies, armor, and medicine. Forms that sat blank, taunting him with his failures.
Here he was, at the beck and call of an old man that wanted nothing more from Fox than to stand at attention and dictate exactly what the reports on the chancellor's desk already said. All while the men were down to one meal a day as they waited for their next food shipment.
It wasn't as if Fox submitting the forms would do much. His requests for more were always denied. But he couldn't bear to look his brothers in the eye if he couldn't tell them he was doing absolutely everything he could for them.
Fox fought the inexplicable urge to cry. What good was getting closer to justice for dead men when he couldn't even provide for the ones still alive?
But he knew well that tears would accomplish nothing. Just ask Teegue.
Chapter 10
Summary:
Finally getting somewhere.
Chapter Text
Fox was counting his steps. Twenty-two from the elevator to the end of the hall. Turn left. Thirty-seven down the corridor to the Chancellor’s secretary. 5 more from her desk to the Chancellor’s door. Knock. Seven to the center of the room.
There was no reason for him to be anxious. No one had messed up that badly in the last week. No accidents or mishaps worthy of Palpatine’s attention. But Fox could still hear his heart pounding. Because all of that meant nothing.
The Chancellor liked to hold things over him. Air out old grievances weeks, or even months, after the fact. Just to keep Fox on his toes.
And Fox had no idea if he was walking into one of those meetings, or his typical obsolete briefing that could have been avoided entirely if the Chancellor knew how to read.
So he stood at attention and waited for Palpatine to look up from his desk. This was another unpredictable variable. It could be five seconds or five hours before Fox was acknowledged.
But after another few minutes, Palpatine put down his datapad and stood, opening his arms wide.
“My dear Commander, I’m so glad you could join me! I do appreciate you making time for our little chats in your busy schedule. How are you today?”
“Fine, sir.”
“Very good, my boy. Now, I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about this ghastly business with Senator Syringa. To drop dead at his own desk! How terrible, wouldn’t you say?” The Chancellor was frowning, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Fox feel like he was missing something.
A bead of sweat formed at Fox's temple. Did the Chancellor know what happened? “Yes, sir, terrible.”
“Natural causes, of course, but it has made me wonder about how vulnerable our dear senators are. Senator Syringa was by himself all evening! He very well could have been attacked and there would have been no one to stop them. To think, these representatives slave away day and night for the good of the Republic, and this is the thanks they get. Absolutely disgraceful, I say. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Fox felt his stomach settle. He still had no idea what the old man was on about, but at least Fox didn’t seem to be under suspicion.
“Of course, sir,” he replied.
“So I propose that the Coruscant Guard step up a bit more in their duties. I think doubling the amount of patrols in the Senate, and adding periodical wellness checks for the senators, should be sufficient to keep everyone safe.” The Chancellor smiled expectantly.
The room felt smaller. Fox’s helmet was making it hard to breathe. Doubled patrols? Putting troopers alone with senators multiple times a day? On purpose? It was Fox’s worst nightmare. Not to mention, “Forgive me, Chancellor, but I’m not sure we have the manpower for that. Our troopers are already spread pretty thin.”
The smile fell off Palpatine’s face. “That is disappointing, indeed. Perhaps, if there are not enough of you, I can transfer troops back here from the front. Our capital’s defense is of the utmost importance, as you know. I would hate to think the Coruscant Guard is not up to the task, Commander.”
Fox’s eyes widened. “No, sir!” He cleared his throat and continued at an appropriate volume. “That is, the Coruscant Guard is more than capable of protecting the Senate. I’ll reorginize our shift schedule to accomodate your wishes as soon as possible.” There was no way in hell Fox was getting GAR troops stationed here. For one thing, he wouldn’t wish this hell on any clone, even those that shunned him and his Guard.
But for another, assigning a frontie to Coruscant after they’d served under a jedi was practically a death sentence. They were too cocky, too confident. The jedi made them think they had rights. That they were people. Things were different on the homeworld. A clone who thought he was a person would last five minutes in the Senate. And they would not meet a pleasant end.
Palpatine’s smile returned. “I knew my faith in you was not misplaced. I look forward to seeing these changes implemented in two rotations.” Fox let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Now, on to another matter. It has come to my attention that you have obtained a jedi in the past few weeks. Is there a reason you did not bring this to my attention, CC-1010?”
CC-1010 answered without hesitation. “I assumed you already knew, my lord. Orders came directly from the Jedi Council. They wouldn't dare interfere with Senate jurisdiction without alerting you first.”
Lord Sidious tapped his fingers on his desk as he furrowed his brows. An intense pressure started building in CC-1010's head. “I see. You underestimate how meddlesome the jedi are, though I suppose I would expect no less from a clone. But you weren’t hiding this decision from me, were you?” Yellow eyes bore into CC-1010’s helmet.
An axe was splitting CC-1010's head in two. That was the only possible explanation for the feeling it was experiencing. “Never, my lord,” it bit out. The pain lessened.
“Good, clone. I should hate to have to dispose of you. You’re so...entertaining.” Lord Sidious stepped within arm's length of it.
CC-1010 did not react.
“What has the jedi been working on with you?”
“He’s been assisting on cases, my lord. And distracting senators from the clones.”
Lord Sidious hummed. “I see. Remove your helmet, pet. Has he asked you about me?”
CC-1010 swiftly lifted the helmet off its head and swung it down under one arm. “No, my lord.”
Lord Sidious lifted one hand up to stroke CC-1010's cheek. It felt like leather on CC-1010's skin. It did not like it. “Very good. You’re to report it to me right away if he does."
"Yes, my lord."
Lord Sidious took his hand away and turned back to his desk. "Now, I think a bit of training is in order. To remind you who you really belong to, regardless of this…jedi…the Council has seen fit to appoint.”
A pit of fear settled in CC-1010's stomach. It hated the punishments. It thought it might have been good enough to avoid one today. It shouldn’t have gotten its hopes up.
It didn’t see how Lord Sidious signalled them, but suddenly the room was full of Red Guards. CC-1010 swallowed.
“Take off your armor, Commander.” CC-1010 complied. Lord Sidious sat back down in his chair. “You may begin.” The soldiers circled it, vibrostaffs in hand. CC-1010 had nothing to defend itself with but its fists. This wasn’t going to go well.
45 minutes later, when CC-1010 was crumpled on the floor, blood dripping from its nose in a dark puddle on the carpet, Lord Sidious finally called it off. “Good work, men. CC-1010, I trust you will work on your areas of weakness.”
CC-1010 did not reply, all its energy focused on getting to its feet.
“You’re dismissed, Commander. Do keep me updated on this new jedi.”
CC-1010 saluted and turned to leave. Just as it reached the door, Lord Sidious called, “We had a very productive meeting. I do hope you recover from your injuries from patrol in the lower levels quickly. Shame you didn’t see your attacker’s face. He must have gotten the jump on you.”
CC-1010 nodded and left without another word.
By the time Fox stumbled back to the barracks after his patrol, it was late afternoon. Someone had snuck up on him again, and now he was pretty sure he’d at least sprained his knee and refractured his wrist, and possibly even broken his nose. Not to mention he definitely had another concussion. The splitting pain in his head would not go away, and he barely remembered meeting with the Chancellor. He hoped the only important thing they discussed was the shift changes.
Hemlock was going to kill him. At least it wasn’t as bad as last time.
He limped into medbay and sat on the first bed available. Fox might have to brave the storm, but he didn’t have to walk up to it willingly.
(Un)fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Only a few minutes passed before Hemlock stepped out from behind a curtain and laid eyes on Fox.
His gaze narrowed. “Fox. What brings you here?” Fox tried a sheepish grin.
“Just a few patrol injuries, Hem. Spare a minute to fix me up?” Hemlock was not impressed.
He pulled out a scanner and ran it over Fox. Whatever it said, Hemlock did not look happy. Fox gulped.
“Oh. A few patrol injuries, you say?” Fox nodded. “Is that what you’d call a broken wrist, nose, and factured kneecap? I ought to chain you to this bed until you can learn how to walk straight without injuring yourself. How did you get ‘em this time?” Hemlock raged as he grabbed Fox's face roughly and started cleaning the cuts that were visible there.
“The guy got the jump on me. I didn’t see his face. But he sure packed a punch.” Fox rubbed the back of his neck with his uninjured hand.
Hemlock did not look convinced. “How did you even get a broken nose? Your helmet looks fine.” Fox tilted his head. That was a good question. He didn’t remember taking it off, but he must have if it wasn’t broken.
“I guess I must’ve had it off for something. I was being careless.” Hemlock groaned and threw his hands up.
“Once, just once, I would like you to show the same regard for your own health as you would for that of any one of your brothers.
Hemlock then rubbed a tiny amount of bacta on Fox’s knee and wrist before wrapping them in makeshift bandages. They’d run out of real ones months ago, so they’d resorted to tearing off rags from old sheets.
The anger faded from the medic's face to be replaced by a look of apologetic resignation. “Sorry, Commander. Not enough bacta for cosmetic repairs. Your nose will have to be set the old fashioned way. We’ll hope for the best.”
Fox would have laughed if it didn’t hurt. “Please. This face is beyond saving.” He shot Hemlock a grin and was met with a rueful smile.
After Hemlock had finished setting Fox straight, both literally and figuratively, Fox slid off the cot, gingerly testing weight on his injured knee. Still hurt like a bitch, but it would have to do.
He shot Hemlock’s back a mock two-finger salute as his brother waved him off to examine his other patients. “The next time you come back here, you better not have any new injuries!” Hemlock called over his shoulder.
Fox held back a chuckle. That would be the day.
He checked his schedule. Nothing for the next six hours. Plenty of time to try to rework the entire Guard’s work schedule to fit in double the amount of patrols, including welfare checks. What a joke. If anyone needed wellness checks, it was the Guard, not the senators. Putting troopers alone with those scumbags was the worst idea Fox had ever heard.
But it wasn’t like he had an alternative, so he sat down in his office and pulled up the shift schedules. At least he would finally have time for that ration bar.
Trying out these new shift assignments had the entire Guard running on fumes. The cold, hard truth of it was there simply weren’t enough of them.
To make the Chancellor’s new system work, they had to pull triple shifts. That meant 27 hours in a row. With only a 7-hour rest period before doing it all over again. Even with enhanced clone biology, it wasn’t sustainable.
But Fox had yet to figure out any other way that didn’t include getting more men from the GAR, and failure was not an option. The last time the Corries hadn’t been able to execute a task assigned by the Chancellor, four squads had been decommissioned for “faulty performances.”
The command staff had been picking up slack wherever they could as the rest of the troopers adjusted. Which is how Fox found himself on the tail end of a 36-hour shift. He had gone through more stims and cups of caf than he would ever dare repeat to any self-respecting medic. But when a shiny had collapsed after his third day of straight triple shifts, Fox had no choice but to cover for him.
Besides, Fox was the only clone allowed to patrol the Senate alone. According to his own rules, of course. It wasn’t safe. So Fox going by himself meant his would-be shift partner got a break instead.
He was doing his laps as usual when a familiar jedi rounded the corner up ahead of him. Fox would recognize that sleeveless tunic a mile away, even with his vision blurring from sleep deprivation. Vos spotted him too and raised his hand to wave in greeting, a smile breaking out on his face. Fox stopped and stood at attention, saluting. He resolutely did not wobble.
Vos groaned as he approached. “Please, Foxy, when am I going to convince you to drop all that ceremony stuff?”
Never, Fox thought. “That’s against protocol, sir,” he said.
Vos rolled his eyes. “At ease, then. I’m not giving up, you know. One of these days I’ll change your mind. So how you been?”
Fox relaxed into parade rest and thought of his recovering nose, wrist, and knee. “Never better, sir.” He paused. “How are you?” He had a feeling Vos would like that “conversation” shit. Just like he thought, Vos split his face with a grin.
“You know me, Commander. Any day my head is still attached to my body is a good day. Anything new to report?”
Fox wracked his brain in a herculean effort to remember anything that had happened since he’d last slept. “We have a new lead on the Daxel case, sir. Looks like he wasn’t working alone. And he was hired by another party to do it. We’re waiting for evidence analysis to see if we can found out who it was.”
Vos brought a hand to his chin, his brows furrowed. “Any suspects?” Fox opened his mouth, and then hesitated.
The Senate building had ears everywhere. Fox had no illusions about its occupants. He wouldn’t put it past any one of them to be involved with whatever slumlord set this up.
“Not at the moment, sir.” Vos stared, eyes narrowed, so Fox added, “I’ll keep you posted, sir.” He inclined his head and looked down the hall, hoping to signal to Vos he wanted to get on with his duties. Momentum kept him upright, and standing still was forcing him to do that on his own.
Vos took the hint, startling and waving his hand. “Of course, don’t let me hold you up any longer. No rest for the wicked, eh?” For a split second, Fox wondered what would happen if he told Vos about the new shift schedule the Chancellor had them on. If Vos knew to what extent “no rest” really meant at the moment.
But by the time the thought had finished forming in Fox’s brain, Vos had turned and kept walking.
Probably for the best. If Fox opened his mouth for anything more than formalities just then, he had no idea what kind of half-baked ideas would come out. He pinched his palm with his nails in an effort to wake himself up and put Vos out of his mind.
The end of his shift couldn’t possibly have come at a better time. He was just at the point where his eyelids wouldn’t stay open without physical assistance, and any more stims ran the risk of stopping his heart.
When he laid eyes on his bunk, he almost cried. He didn’t even bother to strip his armor apart from his bucket. It was as if now that he was inches from sleep, he couldn’t find the will to keep from collapsing for another second.
As soon as his head hit the limp pillow, he was dead to the world.
The next time Fox opened his eyes, it was to his helmet comm beeping. He groaned and threw a hand over his face. It felt as if he’d gotten no sleep at all. He checked his chrono; only been out three and a half hours.
If the Senate was not under immediate attack by more than 26 assailants, Fox was going to kill whoever was on the other end of this call.
He slid his helmet over his head and accepted the call.
“Sir, I have the data you requested.”
Yep, definitely killing whoever this was.
“Trooper, you have five seconds to explain who you are and what the hell you’re talking about. I mean that literally.”
Fox was so warm, and the darkness of the pre-dawn was pulling him back to sleep.
“Sir, it’s Jep…from Security? You asked me to decrypt the source of the deposits on a bank account under top priority.”
Fox jerked upright. “Fuck, sorry, Jep. Of course, I remember. Just running on fumes here. What did you find?”
He bit his lip behind the helmet. There was always that chance that the financials would turn up nothing. And he would be back to square one.
“Well, sir, each payment was routed through a number of subsidiaries. All legitimate and above board, but every single one of them was dissolved two weeks after they were approved to operate. Just long enough for a check to go through. Whoever it came from hid their tracks well.
“I almost missed the connection entirely. But I found a common denominator. For a business to be able to pay out employees, you have to submit a record of total monthly revenue to the Coruscant Business Administration. I spliced each company’s records, and get this: none made a single credit apart from donations from the Public Works Fund.”
The PWF was a massive infrastructure development trust. It supplied billions of credits in contracts to Coruscanti businesses each year. And every credit was allocated by the Senate Appropriations Committee. Before it was sent for the Chancellor’s approval.
The world seemed to sway around Fox. This was bigger than someone in the Senate having the same spice dealer as whoever organized the killings. Not only could a senator be responsible, but this could go to the very highest echelon of the Republic.
“Thank you, Jep.” He heard himself say. “This is great work. Don’t repeat this to anyone else, and wipe any trace of your investigation from the system. Got it?”
“Already done, sir. I won’t say a word.” Jep ended the call, leaving Fox to sit in his revelation.
He took a breath. He was jumping to conclusions. Hundreds of people outside the Chancellor and the 135 senators on the Committee had a hand in those appropriations bills. Aides, lobbyists, action groups. He needed to narrow down the suspect pool.
He thought for a moment. Maybe it was finally time to enlist the help of the jedi.
Chapter 11
Summary:
Fox has been sidetracked. Vos helps.
Notes:
This is another angsty filler chapter, but I tried to write for the plot and this is what came out. Next chapter should be soon and will get the ball rolling.
Chapter Text
Fox hadn’t had time to do much of anything besides eat, sleep, and breathe in the two and a half months since the new schedules had taken effect. If shoving a few ration bars down his throat once every two days and passing out for a few hours after each triple he pulled counted as eating and sleeping.
It was clear that the Guard was not going to be able to keep this up indefinitely. It was more a question of how long it would take them to drop. Fox had managed to work out an alternating schedule that would theoretically give each clone only a double instead of the full 27-hour triple once a cycle, which at least helped with morale. But Fox doubted they would even last a cycle under this system.
The command staff were picking up the extra shifts themselves to give the men their shorter hours, but there were only four of them to do it. Thire had permanent bags under his eyes, and Stone had taken to communicating exclusively in hand signs since he didn’t have the energy to talk. Thorn had withdrawn altogether. Fox couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him out of the prisons.
And Fox was struggling worse than ever before. He had never been so tired so consistently in his life. Even command training hadn’t been this bad. At least then he hadn’t had the lives of the entire Guard resting squarely on his back.
So the relief was spread thin. Fox gave the Guard another month, max, before they reached a breaking point. What happened after that was anyone's guess.
Suffice to say everything that wasn't absolutely essential had taken a back burner, including his investigation into Daxel. He just didn’t have the brain power. He could barely scrape up a “Yes, sir, no, sir” for the senators and chancellor when required.
If there were gods in the universe, they definitely weren’t on his side. A fact that was proven when a chime from his comm interrupted him just as he was face planting into his bunk at the end of his own 36-hour shift.
He accepted the call without looking and mumbled, “CC-1010,” into his pillow.
“Fox? Is this a good time?” A month ago, Fox would have jumped to attention at the sound of a jedi’s voice, no matter how long his shift had been. Now, he just grunted an affirmative and kept his face buried in the sheets.
“It’s been awhile. Any update on the Daxel case?” The garbled voice asked.
Fox tried to think. The Daxel case…oh, right. The clone killer. What was the latest update? Something about a Senate connection, or a budget committee…
“Fox?” Fox jolted back awake, realizing he’d drifted off. God, what he wouldn’t give for uninterrupted sleep.
“Right, sir, sorry, sir. Um, there is, uh, no update at this time. Sir.” He forced out. Black started to creep in on the edge of his vision again.
“Are you alright, Fox? You don’t sound like your usual self.” Fox could almost see Vos’s concerned face through the comm.
“Yes, sir, perfectly alright, sir.” Lying down felt so good, and his eyelids were so heavy. He hoped Vos hung up soon.
“Ok, well, I’ll let you go. Why don’t we set up a time to go over next steps for the investigation? There might be something I can do to help. How does today at midday sound?”
Fox hummed, the warmth of his blankets smothering any conscious thought.
“Good. See you then, Foxy!” His comm clicked off, and Fox succombed to the sweet bliss of sleep.
When his alarm blared seven hours later, he groaned. Getting up took every ounce of willpower he had. At least his turn to pull a relief shift for his brothers had been yesterday. Or was it technically the day before? Either way, that meant only 27 hours until the next time he saw his bunk. As long as nothing else came up. He started the mental countdown and shot a stim into his veins before chugging a cup of caf. No other option than to keep going.
He didn’t have Senate patrol until later in the day, so he sat as his desk to plow through as much flimsiwork as he could before then. The Chancellor wanted reports drafted on any incident that occurred while the troops were checking in on the senators, which meant more forms that required Fox’s seal of approval. He was just signing off on a false alarm a senator had had with a cleaning droid in their office when a knock came at his door. That would be Thire or Stone with a shift report. He called them in.
“Fox! How’s my favorite commander doing?” Fox’s head jerked up, the rest of his body following as he stood to attention. He scanned the desk for his bucket, but it was nowhere to be found. Where had he left it?
“Woah! What happened to you? You look like someone dragged you through shadow training and dropped you off a cliff.” Fox looked up to see Vos staring at him, eyes blown wide. Fox scowled. He’d like to see how the jedi looked after trying his schedule while running an entire planet’s security almost singlehandedly. Especially with the chancellor breathing down his neck.
“Just a long day, sir.” Try a long three months. “Why are you here?” Fox winced at his own bluntness. Sleep deprivation was really doing a number on him.
Vos crossed his arms. “We were supposed to discuss the Daxel investigation. Where to go next. We spoke about this earlier this morning. Remember?”
Fox did not remember. He had no recollection of that whatsoever. But he couldn’t say that, because he’d be decommissioned for faulty performance.
“Of course, sir. My mistake.” He waited for Vos to ask him a question. He didn’t have the energy to be proactive at the moment.
But Vos didn’t say anything. He just kept watching, his eyes scrutinizing Fox as if they could see right through him. Fox accepted the inspection without complaint.
“When was the last time you slept, Commander?” Fox knew the answer to this one.
“This morning, General. I assure you, I’m fine.”
Vos raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. For how long?”
Fox huffed. “7 hours, sir. Did you have any questions about the case?”
But Vos was not to be deterred. “And how long were you awake before that?”
That one required thinking. How long had Fox been awake? Well, there was the 36-hour shift. And he had been with the Chancellor before that. And Hound had called him to a weapons cache that Grizzer had sniffed out in the lower levels before that. So all in all, he was probably looking at…
“39 hours, sir.”
The jedi pinched his brows. “Jeez, Fox. Why? What happened?”
Fox thought about that for a minute. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. It was just adjusting to the new ordinary that was hard.
“That is my regular schedule, sir.”
Vos’s jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me you are regularly pulling 39 hours on the clock? Why?”
Fox sighed. He was wasting his precious brain capacity to think about subjects he purposefully avoided all of the time. “New security requirements, sir. We're still adjusting. I’m picking up the slack.”
“What new security requirements?” Vos looked angry. Fox wondered if he should be worried, then decided it wasn't worth the effort.
“We’ve doubled patrols in the Rotunda and incorporated daily check-ins with each senator. Extra security after what happened with Syringa, sir.”
Just after he closed his mouth, Fox remembered the suspicious circumstances surrounding Vos and Syringa’s death. He wondered if Vos would think Fox was blaming him. Because he wasn’t. Even if Fox never slept again, it would be worth it to make sure that slimy man’s hands never touched one of his shinies again.
“But Senator Syringa died of natural causes. Why do you think that warrants extra security?”
Truth be told, Fox didn’t. Even if he knew those natural causes were given a little push with the help of the jedi.
“It’s not up to me. Decision from on high.”
Vos blinked. “From who?”
Fox hesitated. Was there any harm in telling Vos it was Palpatine? Probably not. But his brain wasn’t really functioning very well these days.
“The chancellor, sir.”
“Since when does the chancellor dictate your patrol schedules? Can’t you just explain why it’s unnecessary?”
A wave of frustration bubbled up in his chest. Yes, because it was so easy to just explain to the chancellor why he was wrong. Why Fox’s men weren’t actually droids, no matter what the Senate thought, and they couldn't function with no food and no sleep for hours upon hours at a time. Why Fox was killing himself slowly to juggle all his responsibilities and keep his men alive without dropping the ball.
“If the chancellor of the Republic believes it necessary, then it is necessary. It is not my place to argue.” He tried to keep his anger off his face and out of his voice. Judging by the way Vos stepped back and raised his hands, he did not succeed.
“Sorry, Fox. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you can’t argue with the chancellor. But I can.” A grin lit up his face just as Fox’s stomach dropped. Vos couldn’t fight the chancellor. He’d get kimself killed.
That thought made Fox pause. The chancellor obviosly wouldn’t kill Vos. He was an old man. Fox really was losing it.
“Sir, if I may, that’s not necessary. We’re handling it. Extra patrols make the Senate safer. That is our utmost priority.”
Vos’s smile fell. “But if you’re working yourself until you drop, you can’t possibly be in your right mind. How can you protect the Senate then?”
Fear jolted through Fox. Was Vos suggesting he wasn’t capable of doing his job?
But no sooner had Fox had the thought than Vos held his palms up again. “Not to say you aren’t up to snuff. I’m just saying no one under these conditions could be expected to keep up to standards.”
Fox relaxed. “We’re clones, sir. We are meant to perform beyond human standards.”
“Right,” Vos dragged out the syllable. He did not sound convinced.
“Really, sir. We’ll be fine.” He hated that he had to fight against the only possibility he had of making things better.
“Fox, you look like you’re about to keel over. I’ve seen dead bodies with more energy than you. You’re really going to sit here and tell me this is all okay?”
Fox looked away. When new policies were implemented, he was often the grease that oiled the gear shifts. He made sure the transitions went smoothly until things got settled again. It was his job to make everything okay.
The difference this time was that there was no getting settled. Asking each of his troopers to pull triple shifts on no sleep was not going to get easier. They’d never get used to it. In fact, it would keep getting worse the longer it went on. But Fox wouldn’t request more shinies from Kamino to live in this hell hole, and he would find no reinforcements anywhere else.
And now, he was working upwards of 30 hours for every 5 hours of rest, standing in front of a general trying to justify why it was alright.
He looked back at Vos, who was waiting patiently for his answer. Maybe…
“Perhaps, sir,” Fox said hesitantly, “You could complain to the chancellor that the new patrols have kept us from assisting you on your own missions. If you could talk him down to radio checks on the senators, rather than individual office visits, we could cut our patrol time in half.”
The idea was solidifying in his mind. He spoke faster, eager to get the words out now that he could feel hope blooming again. “The men could go back down to double shifts, my commanders could stop working 36 hours straight, and we could all get back to eating regularly. Of course, I’ll do whatever you need me to. I can assist on your missions, I can provide any services you need. Whatever you want, sir!“ Fox was panting lightly, a genuine smile gracing his face for the first time in weeks. Then he focused back on Vos’s face.
The jedi’s expression was unreadable, and he wasn’t saying anything. Fox swallowed, his smile fading.
That had been completely inappropriate. What was he thinking? He could blame his outburst on the not sleeping, right? Vos hadn’t punished him before. Maybe he’d keep it up, but why did Fox have to tempt him? He was so stupid.
Fox straightened back to attention. “Apologies, sir, that was out of line—"
“Fox, of course I’ll talk to the chancellor. You don’t have to do anything.” Vos pulled out the chair in front of Fox’s desk and sat down. “Feel free to relax, by the way.” He gestured to Fox’s own chair across from him. Fox sat.
Vos tapped his fingers on the armrest, and Fox waited with baited breath to hear the caveat that was coming next. “I’m more interested in talking about your men not eating regularly. Or your commanders, and you, I’m assuming, working 36 hour shifts. What does the patrol schedule have to do with that?”
Fox cleared his throat. Why did it matter? “Well, the men aren’t allowed to eat on Senate patrol, sir. They have to wait until they’re off shift. But when they’re regularly pulling triples for 27 hours, it throws off the schedule. They’re starving for hours, and when they do finally end shift, they can only eat so much at one time that it doesn’t get them all the nutrients they need."
Vos looked pissed, but he hadn’t interrupted, so Fox kept talking. "And then they sleep, wake up, eat, and starve for another day. The medics are concerned about long-term malnutrition, sir.
“Going back to the old shift schedule would solve that problem. And the command staff picks up extra shifts so each man can work an occasional double to have a break. Not that they need it, sir,” Fox rushed to say. “But it’s like maintenance for any functioning machine. It ensures optimal performance, sir. So, 36 hours instead of 27 for us. Sir.”
Vos leaned forward and laid a hand flat on the desk in front of him. Fox dragged his eyes away from it to look at Vos’s face when he started speaking again. “Fox, first things first. You and your brothers are not machines. I know that. You know that. You don’t have to keep pretending you are to placate me, or justify whatever crazy standards you think I’m going to hold you guys to. Understand?”
Fox blinked. Not really, but he nodded all the same. Maybe he could process this better after some sleep. Then his mind started wandering to his bed, and he forced himself back to the present.
“Second, I’m going to talk to the chancellor right now. I’ll use the exact argument you told me, and I won’t leave until it’s fixed. Then, I’m coming back here, and I’m going to cover for your commanders for the next several hours while you all get some sleep.” Fox was flabbergasted. He opened his mouth to argue, but Vos cut him off with a glare. “Non-negotiable. Got it?” Fox nodded, dazed.
“And one more thing. Tell your troopers they’re allowed to eat on shift in the Senate if there are no pressing responsibilities that would prevent them from doing so. By that, I mean fire, intruder, or other active security threat. Not a senator’s delicate sensibilities being offended by seeing a trooper’s face.” Fox let out a crazed bark of laughter before cutting himself off. What was happening?
“If anyone calls them out, I want every trooper to direct whoever’s giving them a hard time to me. I mean it, Fox. If I find out troopers are still being prevented from eating while they’re working and no one told me, I’m gonna be pissed." Vos raised an eyebrow. "And I won’t punish you; don’t go getting any ideas.”
Fox’s heart rate dropped back down to normal as Vos continued. “But we will have to have a conversation about letting me help. Because I may not have understood what the Guard was going through before, but I do now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Fox could only nod his assent. Vos had been pretty good about following through on his word so far. Maybe he would this time, too.
Vos seemed to understand Fox was incapable of speech at the moment, because he just clapped his hands together and stood. “Alright. Well, that’s that. I’ll go speak to the chancellor, and I’ll be back in a bit with good news. If you don’t mind just writing up a list of things you need me to do for each commander while you’re all sleeping, that would be great. See you soon!”
Vos pasted his signature grin back on and whirled out the door. Fox thought maybe he was dreaming. But he pinched himself and didn’t wake up, so he went back to work. But first, he drafted the list Vos asked for. Just in case.
Some time later, a knock on the door sounded. Fox straightened up and prepared himself for disappointment. But when the door slid open, it was just Thire. Fox slouched down with a sigh. “Oh, it’s you.”
Thire smiled. “Jeez, boss, you could at least try to sound happy to see me.” He swung his helmet off and rested it on his hips. His cheeks were getting gaunt. When had that happened?
Fox ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, Thire. I’m just tired, and I’ve been waiting for Vos. He’s supposed to be coming with news.”
Thire sauntered into the room and threw himself onto Fox’s guest chair, one leg propped over the arm. Fox curled his lip. Thire had way too much energy for someone coming off a triple.
“What kind of news?”
For a moment, Fox considered lying. Then he’d be the only one disappointed when Vos failed. But he was selfish, and at that particular moment, he would do anything to share the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders with someone else. So he told Thire everything Vos had said.
For a long moment, Thire didn’t move. Then he burst out laughing. Of all the ways he could’ve reacted, Fox was not expecting that. Sleep deprivation was clearly taking its toll on all of them.
“Um, Thire?” Fox asked when his brother showed no sign of stopping. “What’s so funny?”
It took Thire another 15 seconds before he got himself under control enough to speak. He lifted a finger to wipe his watering eyes, wheezing as he replied, “You mean to tell me…we’ve spent the past two and a half months practically killing ourselves to make this system work, starving, slaving away, serving ourselves up on a silver platter to senators in their private offices every day, and the whole time all we had to do to make it go away is look pitiful in front of a jedi. We could’ve saved ourselves weeks of work! And Vos is going to fix it in an afternoon. This is unbelievable!”
Fox scowled and crossed his arms, bitter at Thire’s implications. “I was trying to be cautious. Sorry I couldn’t change the chancellor’s mind singlehandedly. And I don’t recall you suggesting we knock down Vos’s door for help.”
Thire sobered and sat upright. “Woah, Fox, I’m not blaming you. I know why we didn’t ask Vos for help. It was too risky. I’m just laughing because I think I’ll cry otherwise.”
Fox’s hackles went back down, and Thire’s voice softened. “I know how much you do for us, Fox. I could never blame you for anything.” Their eyes met, and Fox understood all Thire wasn’t saying from the respect in his eyes.
“I know, Thire. Sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat. I’m just on edge waiting to see if Vos can actually pull this off. And I’m so tired I see my bed every time I blink.” Fox put his head down on the desk. “Wait with me until Vos comes back?”
Fox couldn’t see Thire anymore with his face buried in his arms, but he felt the hand on his pauldron. “Always, Fox.” The hand went away, and the chair scraped across the floor as Thire jumped up. Fox lifted his head an inch to see Thire pump his fist out of the corner of his eye. “Ugh, I could kiss Vos right now!”
Fox shook his head, smiling. Then a chuckle came from out in the hall. “That won’t be necessary, Thire.” Fox and Thire both shot to attention, saluting.
“At ease, both of you.” A grin split Vos’s face. Fox shared a glance with Thire, both of them wondering if that meant what they thought it did.
“I won’t keep you in suspense. No more daily check-ins on the senators at all. I convinced the chancellor that your time was better spent elsewhere. Namely focusing on keeping threats out rather than wasting time checking where you know they aren’t. Your schedules should be back to normal.”
Vos rested his hands on his hips, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Fox would be annoyed, but he was too busy dealing with the unbridled joy filling his chest. A laugh bubbled out of him before he slammed a hand over his mouth. But all efforts to contain his emotions went out the door when Vos started laughing too, clapping a hand on Thire’s shoulder. Thire dove for Vos, giving him a peck on the cheek. When Vos sputtered, Thire just chuckled, “I’m a man of my word, General!”
Vos gave Thire a good natured shove, grinning as he watched Thire turn to Fox. Thire spread his arms wide, his eyes bright and a toothy smile on his face. Fox stepped forward, and that was all it took. Thire wrapped his arms around Fox, gripping him so tight that Fox found it hard to breathe. But he didn’t care. Tears welled in his eyes, and he hid his face in Thire’s shoulder as he hugged him back.
Vos let them be for a few minutes, averting his eyes as he let the brothers embrace in private. But eventually he cleared his throat.
They let go and turned back to face him. “Not to break up the moment here, boys, but I know you’re both dead on your feet. If you want to take this to the bunks, you’ll hear no complaint from me. Fox, did you have a chance to get that list for me?”
Fox slid his gaze to where it rested on his desk. “Yes, sir. But it’s really alright. Stone, Thorn, and Thire can rest while I keep a handle on things. You’re free to go about your business.” Fox met the jedi’s gaze. “You’ve done more than enough, sir. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Vos smiled softly. “How about taking a break, Fox? I can handle things for a few hours. And if there’s an emergency, I’ll come get you. Alright?”
Fox hesitated, until Thire turned his tooka eyes on him. “Please, Fox?” He whined. “Coruscant won’t fall to pieces if we take a nap. Your work will still be here when you get back.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Let go, ori’vod.”
And how could Fox resist that? So he relunctantly pointed out the flimsi with all of their responsibilities to Vos and sent a comm recalling Thorn and Stone from their shifts. Their confused responses came in a few seconds later, but Fox just told them everything was fine and he’d explain when they got back to base.
With that, there was nothing else to do but sleep. Thire was practically bouncing on his toes when Fox finally turned toward the door, and he beelined to the barracks as soon as Fox nodded. With an amused huff, Fox watched him go and made to follow much slower.
He paused as he passed Vos. He kept his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t know if he could get the words out otherwise. “I appreciate everything you've done for us, sir.” Vos turned his head toward Fox. “But I'm trusting you with my Guard. I hope you understand what that means.” Fox heard Vos swallow, and he saw him nod in his peripheral vision. Satisfied, Fox walked out.
He wasn’t stupid enough to threaten a commanding officer out loud. But he was pretty sure he’d gotten the message across. Regardless of the consequences, it had to be said. Besides, he didn’t think Vos would do anything to him for it. Vos was proving that he could be trusted. And maybe once Fox had slept, they could get back to what mattered: justice for his murdered brothers.
Chapter 12
Summary:
The beginning of the end.
Chapter Text
When Fox opened his eyes, the world had not spontaneously combusted. Thorn and Stone were still snoring next to him, the sun was still blazing through the tiny window, and Fox was still breathing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up naturally. It felt amazing. Fox was hit with a massive wave of envy for anyone who got to do that on the daily.
He checked his chrono and did a double take. He had been asleep for 17 hours? What the actual fuck? He couldn’t believe Vos hadn’t woken him. He was going to kill that stupid jedi.
He shoved each piece of his armor on with abnormal agression, so much so that Thorn started to stir. Fox paused, glancing guiltily at his brother. Just because Fox should’ve been awake hours ago didn’t mean that Thorn, Stone, or Thire didn’t need the rest. Speaking of, where was Thire? Fox checked the bunk above his, but it was empty. Sneaky bastard. He should’ve woken Fox on his way out.
When Fox was fully dressed, he stormed out of the barracks—quietly—to go find Vos. He was going to give him a piece of his mind if it killed him. Which, if anyone overheard, it just might.
After checking in with Skip at the front desk, Fox found out that Vos was patrolling the Senate. That information was almost enough to stop Fox on his rampage. Almost.
The jedi was patrolling the Senate? It was unheard of. Either Vos had made it his personal mission to confuse Fox to death, or he was just messing with him. So Fox went to go find out.
He finally ran into him on the fifth floor outside the offices of the Devaronian senator. Vos was coming out the door of the senator’s bedroom, cracking his knuckles and stretching. Every argument Fox had been preparing on his way over fled his head, and he just stood there and stared until Vos noticed his presence.
“Ah, Foxy! Feeling better?” He said with his usual 100-watt smile.
“Um,” Fox tried to focus on the question and not the reason Vos had been in the senator’s bedroom. Weren’t jedi supposed to be void of attachments? “Yes, sir. Much better. How did your…” Fox broke off, wondering what to call Vos’s stint as commander of the Guard. “…shift go, sir?”
“It was great. I got a lot done, so that should take a bit off your guys’ plate, and after I finished your list I just passed the time talking to your troopers. They gave me some great ideas for things to tackle, and that’s what I’ve been working at ever since!” Vos just kept smiling. It was unnerving.
Fox squinted, trying to discern if Vos was telling the truth. Well, he supposed he could also confirm Vos’s story with his men later. In the meantime, “Sir, if I may, what were you doing with Senator J’Haar?” The Devaronian was no friend of the clones, and he can’t imagine what business he could possibly have wanted with the jedi.
Vos glanced over his shoulder at the door he had just exited through, as though seeing it for the first time. “Oh right, that. He called Blast for a chat, and Blast didn’t want to go. So I went to explain to the good senator that he wouldn’t be seeing Blast anymore, but it didn’t go over too well. So now, I’m afraid there’s going to need to be a new senator.” Vos lifted a hand to inspect his nails.
Fox’s jaw dropped. “You killed a senator? Again?” He screeched.
Vos looked up, offended. “What? Of course, not. And I don’t know what you mean by ‘again.’" He winked. Fox blew a gasket.
Vos continued, "But J’Haar’s been removed from office for conduct unbecoming. So you won’t be dealing with him again. I was just heading to tell Bullet the good news.”
Bullet was a somewhat new addition to the Guard. He had shipped in a few months back. Fox usually tried to keep the shinies off the Senate rotation for at least a month or two, but right after Bullet had arrived, they’d had to put in the new overtime schedule. Bullet was initiated by the senators and their aides in record time. Fox bore the guilt of that every day.
Vos seemed to be making a habit of disappearing anyone in the Senate who mistreated them. Fox wondered what would happen if he gave the jedi a list.
He was pulled from his musings by Vos setting off in the opposite direction. Fox hustled to catch up. He was grateful, but he didn’t want Vos biting off too much too soon and getting bored of them. Not with everything he’d been doing for them.
“Sir, I’ve had more than enough R and R. I appreciate your help, but you’re welcome to leave now.”
Vos shot a glare at him. “Leave? What do you mean? I feel like I’m finally scratching the surface here. I have at least another 4 Senate staffers to pay a visit to before I stop for the day.”
Fox chose to ignore that. Plausible deniability and all. “Of course, sir, but we’re really alright. At least for the rest of the day.” Fox decided to push his luck. “If you’d like to come back tomorrow, that would be acceptable.”
Vos huffed. “Come back tomorrow? I’m coming back forever! There’s so much to be done. And now that you’re awake, you can tell me what’s most urgent. Just point me toward what you want to do, and I’ll get on it. Anywhere in the Senate you need me to go.” Vos bounced on his feet, looking like a horse champing at the bit.
It was kind of adorable. Fox blinked and shook his head as soon as the thought crossed his mind to dislodge it. The jedi was not adorable. He was a lethal killing machine that could decomm Fox is two seconds flat.
Not that Fox really thought he would do that anymore.
Vos said Fox could direct him toward anything. He had a fully trained jedi undercover operative at his disposal. He would never get a better chance than this at locking down the clone killer.
“Honestly, sir, where we could most use your help at the moment is with the Daxel case. Unless an emergency comes up in the Senate, your skills are better put to use with our investigative team.” Fox waited to see how Vos would react to being ordered around. He’d asked for it, but still.
Vos just nodded grimly. “You got it. Any chance I can get that update we were supposed to talk about yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. If you’d follow me, the materials are in my office."
By the time Fox had finished briefing Vos on the latest—which he’d had to refresh his own memory on as well now that he actually had the capacity to form conscious thoughts—it was late in the afternoon. Fox left out his run in with Teegues. Vos may play it fast and loose with justice, but Fox had no idea how he would feel about a clone doing the same. Especially to a nat born.
Vos took Fox’s theory about potential Senate involvement surprisingly well. That is to say, Vos believed him. And he wasted no time coming up with a plan.
The jedi wanted to run surveillance on a few senators from the Appropriations Committee that he already knew were shady. He was also going to reach out to his contacts that might know something about senators using the PWF to conduct below-board transactions. Fox, in the meantime, was to find out what additional personnel were involved in the drafting of the bills and whose stamp of approval was needed for each PWF donation. And what better way to do it than the donors gala coming up next week?
All the lobbyists, aides, senators, and money in one room. All Fox had to do was get access to the guest lists, run background checks on each one to see who the targets of interest would be, and then feel them out at the party. Most likely while they were feeling him up.
If they didn’t have any new leads by the time both Fox and Vos were done, Fox would eat his boot.
Fox stared at his reflection. His formal dress blues were the required uniform for any ceremonial appearance. The suit cut harsh lines at his shoulders, the red sash cinching his waist. Thire had helped him tame his curls, and for once his face wasn’t marred by cuts and bruises. He looked good.
He hated it. A pit had formed in his stomach, anxiety roiling in his gut at the thought of leaving the privacy of the fresher. Without his armor, he had no protection, nothing separating him from the wandering hands of the people who thought they were entitled to him and his body. At this party, that would be pretty much everyone.
You’re doing this for your brothers, Fox reminded himself. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the phantom fingers he felt ghosting across his face. He snapped to attention, practicing his about-face toward the door in an attempt to steel his nerves behind the ritual. He could do this. What was a few more hours to a lifetime of war on Coruscant?
He opened his comm, letting Vos know he was on his way. He got a thumbs up as a response and the coordinates of their meeting spot, a place just outside the Senate building. Fox started walking.
The jedi had insisted on being there tonight as well, even though Fox had tried to assure him his presence wasn’t necessary. No reason for both of them to be miserable at this thing. Even if Vos wouldn’t be passing the time with groping hands, these parties were still dreadfully boring. But Vos couldn’t be swayed. Something about wanting to witness a senator choke on a jorgan fruit firsthand.
Whatever. If Vos wanted to subject himself to this voluntarily, he could go ahead. It had occurred to Fox to ask Vos if he still had to go himself, seeing as the jedi would be there and could do everything Fox could do (but better). Then Fox could avoid the unpleasant experience entirely and make it another night unscathed.
Since Vos had put a stop to the extracurricular visits with the senators after Senator Syringa, Fox hadn’t had to service anyone in weeks. It was his longest streak since coming to Coruscant.
But he figured Vos shouldn't have to deal with lowly concerns like that, so he had decided against asking.
All of which to say that tonight would suck. His dress uniform was notoriously eye-catching. If he was willfully slutting himself up for the line of fire, he had no one to blame but himself when consequences came calling. When someone got around to claiming him at the end of the night, there’d be no way to avoid it without making a scene. That was fine, Fox told himself. Looking pretty would help disarm his targets, weasel more information out of them. It was worth it. For his brothers. This is what they’d want.
When Fox caught sight of Vos, he tried to clear his mind. He couldn’t be stressing about the inevitable the whole time, or he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. They had a job to do.
Vos smiled wide when he saw Fox. “Fox! You ready?” Fox met Vos’s expectant gaze and nodded stoically. A crisp breeze blew across his skin. He inhaled it, the fresh air filling his lungs.
Vos clapped his hands together and pivoted toward the Rotunda. “Great, let’s get going. I want to get there early to start canvassing the targets from a distance.”
“Yes, sir,” Fox said, falling into step.
“About that,” Vos said. Fox looked at him curiously. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ tonight, alright? My identity as a jedi is pretty well concealed, and I’m posing as an aide for this shindig. Didn’t you notice my fancy clothes?” Vos twirled and fanned himself.
Fox had noticed Vos wearing the unusual fashion that the Coruscanti elite favored, but he figured it was a personal preference. Tilting his head, he replied, “You know I’m still required to call aides ‘sir,’ right? I have to use formalities with pretty much everyone other than clones. But I can drop it in front of the other guests if you want a reason to punish me for something. Sir,” Fox finished pointedly.
Vos stopped walking, face aghast, and opened his mouth, only for Fox to roll his eyes and cut him off. “Not like that, I know you don’t do that. But I’m saying that it would get you a certain level of credibility with this crowd. Get you more information. You could just backhand me or something. Nothing too complicated.”
Vos’s face did not lose its horrified expression like Fox thought it would. “Fox, I’m not hitting you. I can build credibility myself. It’s hardly necessary for the mission.”
Fox waved a hand dismissively. “The last CorSec operative I went undercover with had no problem at all roughing me up to sell a story. It doesn’t matter if it’s necessary; it makes things easier. You have my permission. Just give me a nod or something when it’s coming if you want me to be prepared.”
Vos shook his head in disbelief and set off again without another word. Fox lengthened his stride to catch up. They walked in silence, and Fox wondered what he'd stepped in.
“I’m not hitting you, Fox. So just forget it.” Vos’s voice left no room for negotiation, so Fox just nodded, bewildered. It wasn’t like he’d never been slapped before. Whatever. If that was how Vos wanted to play it.
They went in through the service halls, pausing when they came to the junction that would let them out right next to the doors to the gala. They were alone, but Fox could hear the puttering of guests approaching through the main halls on the other side of the wall.
Vos turned to face him. “Alright, here’s the game plan. Act like we’ve never met. I’ll go in first, you follow around thirty seconds later. If I find a suspect that seems promising, I’ll ‘bump’ into you,” Vos made air quotes and nudged Fox with his shoulder. “And introduce myself and my new friend. If you find someone, bring them to the drink table, and I’ll intercept you both there. If you run into any trouble, just comm me. Got it?”
Fox smothered his discomfort. “Got it, sir,” he said, smoothing his clammy hands down the front of his uniform.
Vos grinned. “You really do clean up nice,” he said with a wink. Fox curled his lip and rolled his eyes to hide the fluttering in his stomach. He waited for the disgust that usually followed a natborn's compliment, but it never came. Weird.
Then Vos spun around and slipped out the door, no doubt blending seamlessly with the crowd.
Fox gave it an extra minute to be safe before he did the same. Blending would be impossible for him, so he kept his distance from his fellow partygoers. The doors to the gala loomed in front of him at the end of the corridor.
Two clones were on security detail collecting tickets. Fox didn’t recognize them, but he gave them a nod as he passed. With a deep breath, he tried to shove his fear deep down where he wouldn’t have to face it. He could do this.
Forty-five minutes later, Fox was eating his words. He felt like throwing up. He’d tried to seek out only his targets to minimize his interactions, but no sooner than he spotted one would a stranger interrupt him to ask about the war, clone production, and how he was addressing crime rates.
Presently, a well-dressed twilek was clinging to his arm with a hand on his chest, lamenting the expenses of producing more of his brothers to her friends. “They’ve all served the Republic well, but it’s such a shame they aren’t cheaper. It’s just not a sustainable business practice. Now droids, the Separatists knew what they were doing with that. Less effective, and less attractive, of course,” the aide leered appreciately up at him. “But much more cost-effective. Wouldn’t you agree, Commander?” She blinked her lashes up at him, her lips curving demurely.
Fox would think she was flirting with him if she hadn’t called him a waste of credits to his face. Then again, for a natborn, both acts weren’t mutually exclusive. He nodded, pasting on his own indulgent smile, and wished Vos would “bump” into him soon. He cut his gaze across the room, looking for any sign of either the jedi or one of his marks.
Fate must be on his side, because he saw a staffer from his list next to the hors d’oeuvres. Finally, the excuse he was looking for. He gently grasped the aide’s hand and removed it from his chest. “Terribly sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid I’ve been summoned elsewhere. Please excuse me.” The aide furrowed her brows and pouted her lips, but she acquiesced when Fox raised her discarded hand to his lips to press a kiss to her skin as he bowed. With that, she giggled and blushed, accepting his excuses and waving him away.
Fox turned and tried to catch sight of his target again, fighting the urge to wipe his mouth. Khaas Lemir was employed by the senator from Pasmin, and Fox liked him for at least legislative tampering. The main question was whether he was acting on behalf of his boss or not.
There. He cut through the crowd as politely as he could, doing his best to project an air of authority.
Lemir was one of three staffers talking to the Caridan senator, Vam Queath. Queath was telling a story, and Fox watched as his captive audience laughed appropriately. Lemir leaned back in a loud laugh while holding a champagne glass, and Fox raised an eyebrow. He’d interacted personally with that senator, and he could guarantee nothing he said was that funny. So Lemir was either drunk or a kiss ass. He’d have to wait until he was alone to intercept.
Now to decide how to make his approach. He’d heard that Lemir quietly swung both ways, but kept up appearances for his conservative boss. Fox could use that.
He took up a post against the wall, waiting for his moment. It came a few minutes later, when the senator made his excuses and Lemir turned his gaze to the rest of the room.
Fox picked up two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and swooped in. “Champagne, sir?” Fox blinked innocently, holding out a flute. Lemir’s eyes flitted over Fox’s body before returning to his face with a smirk and accepting the glass. Jackpot.
“With that face, I imagine there’s not much you can’t sell.” Lemir said, his fingers tapping on the sides of the glass. Fox inclined his head, averting his eyes with a bashful smile. The assholes in the Senate loved the subersvience routine. Judging by the heated look in his eyes, Lemir was no different.
“I’m happy to serve the Republic however I can, sir.” Fox needed an opening. He hid his impatience with a sip from his glass.
“Is that so?” Lemir raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you do for the Republic? I didn’t know clones were hiding such pretty faces under those helmets,” he brought his mouth next to Fox’s ear, “But I can definitely think of a few uses for you.” Fox fought the urge to recoil, goosebumps rising on his skin. He needed to redirect.
He let out a flirtatious giggle. “I’m sure you can, sir.” Fox took a step closer. “Perhaps later, you’d like to show me some,” he whispered. Lust flared in Lemir’s eyes, and Fox leaned back quickly, raising his voice to a regular volume, “But I’m the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard.”
He wanted Lemir interested, but he didn’t want to move so fast he lost his opportunity to question him.
Lemir accepted Fox’s response, backing up slightly himself and sipping his drink. “Really? What does that entail?”
“Security, investigations, that sort of thing. But your job is much more interesting.” Fox let his hand rest on the crook of Lemir’s elbow, an excited look on his face. “Is it true you were responsible for singlehandedly getting your senator to add a payment clause to the latest appropriations bill?”
Lemir let a smug look park itself on his face. “Oh, a gentleman never brags,” he said, waving his hand. Leaning in, he continued, “But you look like you can keep a secret.” Fox let his teeth show in a wicked grin.
“You bet.”
Lemir threw his head back and laughed. “What an entertaining clone you are! Yes, I convinced that old geezer to include an item for a mineral refinery company. Infrastructure at its finest! And we represent a mining planet, so it made him quite popular with his constituents. I, on the other hand, had my own reasons for including it.”
Fox did his best to look sincere as he widened his eyes. “Really? What?”
“The executives sought me out last cycle. They wanted government subsidies to implement the updated safety standards that were passed, but they make way too much money to qualify. So, I helped amend the qualifications for critical infrastructure industries, and they helped a nice fat sum into my pocket. Win-win!”
Fox fawned. “Wow, you must be very smart to work the senator around like that. He had no idea what was going on?”
Lemir scoffed. “Please. He wouldn’t know a deal if it smacked him in the face. Absolutely no business sense at all, that one,” he sighed. “In a few more years, that useless lump will be gone and his seat will be wide open for me.” Lemir raised his glass toward Fox. “And then I’ll have much more time for the…finer things in life.”
Fox smiled and clinked his own glass against Lemir's. Fuck. So this guy was useless. He was only interested in cushioning his bank account, and the senator wasn’t involved at all. Neither of them had anything to do with Daxel. At this rate, the whole night was going to be a bust.
Lemir’s eyes cut down Fox’s figure again. Shit. Fox had to get out of here before Lemir collected on Fox’s earlier implications. How to make his escape without causing a scene?
“But we have to make time for what matters, right?” Lemir took hold of Fox’s hand. “How about we get out of here? My place isn’t too far.”
“I’m still working, unfortunately,” Fox laughed uncomfortably, gently pulling his wrist back. Lemir’s grip clamped down hard.
“Call in sick,” the sly grin on Lemir’s face turned malicious. “I’m nowhere close to done with you.” He started tugging Fox toward the door. “I’ve never been with a clone before. I hope you make it worth my while.”
Fox resisted, looking around the ballroom. He still had multiple suspects to talk to, and Vos hadn’t given him permission to leave.
But Vos wasn’t here. And a natborn was ordering him to go. So he stopped planting his feet and let his weight be pulled toward the exit. Vos would understand why he hadn’t finished the mission. Vos wouldn’t hold it against him. And Fox had to worry about the threat in front of him.
Clones on guard duty lined the walls and doors. Fox saw them following his form with their gaze, but none of them made any move to help him. Pride rose in his chest. His boys were well trained.
He nodded to those he passed as they moved to the exit. He took a breath and tried to find the place inside his mind he usually went for these things, but it had been awhile. He was out of practice.
He blocked out the sensation of the sweaty hand on his wrist, the jerking in his shoulder from being pulled along, the sound of the music filtering through his ears, until all he heard was Stone’s voice from a memory, calling his name as he chased him down the hallway in the barracks. Stone was laughing, laughing at Fox. He’d walked right into one of Thire’s pranks, and he was covered in flour. Fox had acted angry, trying to hold back his own chuckle as he waved off Stone’s calls for Fox to let them clean him up. In the memory, Stone had given up on persuasion and tackled him from behind, getting covered with flour himself in the process. They’d lay there on the floor cackling for minutes.
But this time, Stone didn’t stop calling Fox’s name. His voice echoed, getting closer and closer. Fox hadn’t heard Stone’s voice in weeks. He was still communicating in sign. Fox had missed it.
Then, Stone didn’t tackle him. He grabbed Fox's other arm, the one not already being dragged out of its socket, and started pulling him back the other way. That wasn’t right. Fox was supposed to be putting one foot in front of the other. He was being led somewhere. He was supposed to follow.
But Stone's hand on his arm wouldn’t let go, and he wouldn’t stop calling Fox's name.
The voice sounded right next to his ear, and Fox jumped, the world filtering back in all at once. Lemir still had his left hand in a vice grip, but his right was being pulled in the opposite direction by Quinlan Vos. Fox blinked at him, unable to process a response.
Lemir had noticed the resistance, and turned to see what was wrong. Fox watched Vos’s gaze shift from him to Lemir, and a glare appeared on his face. “I was just coming to introduce my new friend, Pilia Rempt, to Commander Fox. What’s going on here?” Vos asked. He’d replaced the glare with a smile, but his voice was deathly serious.
Lemir turned sheepish, letting out a nervous hiccup. “Nothing for you to worry about. We just have some unfinished business to attend to. Perhaps the commander can meet your friend later.”
Vos didn’t waver. “And miss out on this delicious dessert? Not a chance. But it was nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” It was an outright dismissal, not to mention they hadn’t actually exchanged their names. But Lemir took the hint, eyeing Vos’s solid 6'2 muscular build and nodding hesitantly.
Lemir released his grip on Fox’s wrist and gave a stilted bow before fleeing.
Vos turned searching eyes back to Fox, but Fox didn’t say anything. He was looking around, wondering where Stone had disappeared to. He wanted his brother.
Vos gave his arm a gentle shake. “Fox. Have you met Ms. Rempt?” His voice held a warning.
That shook Fox out of his stupor, and he came to with a jolt. His face broke out in a smile, “No, I haven’t had the pleasure. Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. How do you do, ma’am?” He took in her appearance for the first time and decided he didn’t like her.
She had a slim face, and her dark hair was pulled back tightly into a headpiece that was probably worth more than Fox. She wore a slinky, lowcut dress that she kept running her claw-like fingernails over, and she was eyeing Fox like she wanted to eat him. Who was this woman?
She held out her hand for Fox to kiss. He took it and held eye contact. She seemed to like that, and she let out a harsh laugh that sounded like nails grating on a chalkboard to his ears.
“I can see why you like this one, Hymes. He does cut a stunning figure. I’m glad we caught him before that roach tried to steal him away.” Vos laughed and raised his glass.
“I told you I never disappoint. Commander Fox and I go way back, ever since he saved me from some brigands that had broken into my senator’s office. They were looking for my boss, but they found me. I’d have been a goner if it weren’t for him. Our…friendship since then has proven most fruitful.” Vos said, smirking. Fox wondered what the undertone of his voice meant.
“Is that so?” Rempt asked, looking intrigued.
Fox wasn’t sure what role he was supposed to be playing, so he kept silent, sipping his own glass.
Vos nodded, lowering his voice. “Fox here knows everyone. If I need information, he’s where I go. And for the right price, he tells me everything I want to know.”
Rempt quirked her brow, taking a step toward him and lifting two fingers to crawl up his chest. Fox thought he saw Vos’s smile turned pinched, but any sign of tension disappeared as quickly as it came. He took that as a sign to go along with it, so he tilted his head and licked his lips. Her eyes flicked to his mouth.
“Well, Commander, my employer can pay you very handsomely." She patted him on the cheek. "And I'll throw in a little something extra from me," she whispered. Stepping back, she swallowed the last of her drink. "I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other very soon.” With that, she withdrew her hand and walked away, winking over her shoulder.
Fox dropped his smile and watched as she disappeared into the sea of people in seconds. Vos jumped into action immediately, placing a hand on Fox’s shoulder as he blocked Fox’s view of the crowd. Fox jerked backward, and Vos backed off, raising his hands in the air.
“Fox, are you alright?" he said hesitantly. "I’m so, so sorry, I was trying not to blow my cover. Who was that man? What happened?”
Fox just blinked at him. Talking suddenly took more energy than he had. Was this how Stone felt all the time?
Vos seemed to understand, looking at him with sympathy in his eyes. “Can I take you home, Fox?”
Home. Where his brothers were waiting for him.
Fox nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the party. At least his shoulder wasn't at risk of being disjointed this time. They made it all the way back to outside the barracks before he came to any real consciousness. When he did, he was glad Vos was the only person around at that hour of the night. He didn’t know if he could handle public scrutiny just then.
Vos sensed the change in him, and took Fox to a bench. “Here, sit. I’ll get you some water.” Vos dug around in his clutch, which Fox had assumed was just for show, and pulled out a flask. “Drink this.”
Fox wondered hazily if it was drugged, then figured Vos wouldn’t need to bother. He gulped it down, his throat suddenly dry as the desert.
Vos swung his body down next to Fox’s, their knees barely touching. It felt...nice.
“Fox…I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t realize how bad that would be for you. If I had, I would never have had you come with me.”
“It’s alright, sir.” Fox was too tired to feel much of anything, but even if he could, he knew he would never blame Vos for what had happened. In fact, he should be thanking Vos for putting a stop to it.
Vos sighed. “It’s not. But why were you going with him in the first place, Fox? I know he couldn’t actually drag you anywhere if you didn’t let him. He’s half your size. And I told you that you’d never have to do that kind of service again. Why didn’t you comm me?”
He sounded pained. Fox didn’t want that. Vos was the only reason Fox had any hope at all that his men might make it through this war. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“I don’t want you to apologize, Fox. I’m not mad at you. I just want to understand why you didn’t let me help you. And what I need to do to change that.”
“It’s not you, sir,” Fox hedged. “We’re just used to being self-sufficient. And putting the mission above all else.” That’s really what it was. Fox would never do anything to jeopardize his objectives in the name of his own safety, whatever Vos said.
Vos's brows turned down. “Fox, this mission wasn’t more important than you. I won’t tell you that’s always the case, because there are causes I would sacrifice my life for, and I'm sure you have some too. But getting this information tonight wasn’t one of them. It would’ve been convenient, sure, but it’s not like any of these people are going anywhere. If it hadn’t worked, we could’ve just manufactured a meeting some other way. It wasn’t worth you.”
“I don’t know how to tell the difference,” Fox whispered.
“That’s ok. I can teach you." Vos replied at the same volume. It was as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile peace they'd come to in the silent night air.
Vos held his hand out, floating just above Fox's shoulder. Fox glanced over at the jedi to see his eyes searching. When Fox nodded, Vos let it make contact. It didn’t make Fox squirm.
After sitting like that for a few minutes, Fox’s mind felt stable enough to begin piecing the night together again. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”
Vos waved a hand. “Fox, assume that you have that permission in perpetuity. And please, please, at least just call me Vos.”
Fox turned his nose at that, but didn't push it. “Who was the woman you brought over to me? I didn’t recognize her from the suspect tabs. And why did you tell her I was an information broker?”
Vos’s light expression turned grim. “She's our connection.”
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kyotoagnes on Chapter 1 Tue 27 Feb 2024 12:08AM UTC
Last Edited Tue 27 Feb 2024 12:09AM UTC
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