Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Chancellor’s office was Fox’s second-most detested place in the entire galaxy, beaten only by Kamino. The blood-red walls and carpet perfectly matched the paint adorning the Coruscant Guard. He had never felt at ease in the room, no matter how mundane the meeting or who else had accompanied him. 

The unease and discomfort was compounded by the fact that the office was never nearly warm enough. It was honestly strange, considering the top-of-the-line environmental controls in the room. That, and Palpatine’s home planet of Naboo was known as one of the most warm and gorgeous planets in the Mid-Rim—Commander Stone took great care to remind them of that whenever he returned from an escort mission there—which made the chill in the air feel that much more out of place. 

Even through his plastoid armor and black body glove, Fox never felt warm in the office. He certainly didn’t feel warm after waiting for nearly an hour for the Chancellor to show up to their urgent scheduled meeting about the Senate bombings the previous night. 

Palpatine had demanded Fox’s presence to give him a rundown of the current situation, and Fox had dropped everything to make it to Palpatine’s office in record time, only for the Chancellor to not be found. But Fox knew better than to leave and come back. The Red Guard that stood silent in the room would be sure to fill Palpatine in should Fox’s attendance be lacking.

Never mind that Thorn and Thire were basically cleaning up the bombing mess by themselves while Fox stood in the cold, silent office. He tried to not think about the destruction that was waiting for him, or how their Chief Medical Officer, Maddox, and his team were having trouble triaging all the injured clones and civilians, or how the Coruscant Security Force was as usual almost no help because, after all, this had been a Senate bombing and outside of their jurisdiction, or how—

How the whole thing was Fox’s fault. 

If he just hadn’t let those cleaning droids in, they could’ve avoided the whole thing.

But he had. And here they were. 

So far there was a tally of 27 dead clones that the news wouldn’t be discussing. Civilian losses were in the thirties, with dozens more injured.

Fox couldn’t remember the last time he slept.

It was tempting to close his eyes for a few moments; with his helmet on no one would be able to tell anyways. But he clenched his hands behind him periodically to keep himself alert and in perfect parade rest. He couldn’t slack off in front of the Chancellor. Not now. 

He kept running through a mental list of all that he had to accomplish and who he needed to talk to and how soon to make sure it all got done. His heart rate increased with each item.

Finally, the doors to the Chancellor’s office slid open and Palpatine walked in, hardly taking notice of Fox in the middle of the room. He made it across the room and stood behind his desk before he looked Fox in the eye. 

“Commander, I’m glad you could make it. I take it you have the debrief I requested?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Fox said with a nod. “We have confirmed that the attack was Separatist-instigated. They used modified cleaning droids to bypass security and enter the main power generator, where they detonated, causing the loss of power to the Senate and several smaller, subsequent explosions in the vicinity. Casualties are still coming in, and field hospitals have been set up to assist with the triage.” 

Palpatine sat down in his chair and folded his arms on the desk in front of him. “Many in the Senate are quite shaken by the attack, I am quite afraid. What would you recommend we do to prevent future attacks of this nature?”

He seemed genuinely interested, but Fox could tell that he was just waiting for Fox to slip up. He’d seen behind Palpatine’s mask on occasion, and it was not an experience he was keen to repeat. “I have informed Commanders Thorn and Stone and Lieutenant Thire of droid policy changes, namely authenticated passes and communicating with the transport vessel should the droids be coming from off-world.” 

There wasn’t much they could do, really, but Fox had to come up with something. 

Palpatine nodded slowly. “And what was the reason these checks were not performed to begin with?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. “Oversight, sir.”

“A simple human error, really.” Palpatine smiled a little at him, the kind of thing that a passerby would find kind and reassuring.

Fox knew the opposite. It was a smile of victory. He’d caught Fox in his trap. He didn’t bother responding, as there was no way to defend himself.

“Of course, you are not precisely human, are you, CC-1010? Perhaps that is where the error lies, in giving non-sentient beings control of our security.” Palpatine frowned and shook his head, as if disappointed. “You and your fellow clones are property, made to do as ordered. You are Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard, are you not?”

Fox swallowed and hoped the sound wasn’t picked up by his helmet. “I am, sir.” 

Palpatine leaned forwards in his chair. “Then I suggest you learn your duty, Commander. I’d hate to see you incapacitated because of a simple oversight. Though I suppose that Commanders Thorn or Stone could always be made to take your place.”

Fox grit his teeth. That would never happen, not as long as he was around. Palpatine was his to deal with. He couldn’t protect them from much, especially with their status as Commanders, but he could protect them from this. He breathed out slowly, willing his anger and fear to dissipate.

“Do I make myself clear, CC-1010?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Fox affirmed with a stiff nod. 

Palpatine smiled again. “Good, good.” He made a small waving gesture with his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Fox noticed the Red Guards come to flank him on either side. “Unfortunately, as Marshal Commander, you do bear full responsibility for recent events. And as such, more training would be wise to ensure that such mistakes do not occur again. Would you agree?” 

Fox knew exactly what kind of training the Chancellor had in mind. It was the kind that ended with him in a bloody heap on the floor. But as long as it was him and not one of his men…He gave another tight nod.

“Now, Commander, I understand you have been under a great deal of stress from recent events. In light of that, it would be perfectly understandable for there to be lapses in your concentration or memory. Nothing to be concerned about.”

The chill began to seep into his suit. If he were to pull off his helmet, Fox wouldn’t have been surprised to see his breath fogging in front of his face. 

He was still mulling over the Chancellor’s words when the first Red Guard struck out with his staff. Fox reacted instantaneously to block, but the cold seemed to slow his movements. It settled between his joints and made them lag behind the signals his brain was sending. While he was able to block the first attack, he had no chance of fully preventing the second one from behind him.

The sharp staff sliced through his arm. With a break in the skin, the cold seemed to rush in. It crawled up his veins, settled behind his eyes, and made avoiding the next few attacks practically impossible.

Fox came to with a sudden jolt, as if someone had dunked him in a bath of ice water. At his sudden movement, items clattered behind him, which did nothing to help his hammering heart. It was pitch dark and he fumbled for a moment before he turned on his visor light. Fox then let out an annoyed sigh when he found said items to only be various bottles of cleaning supplies.

He was in a supply closet. How professional. Fox took a quick stock of himself before he dared to move further. 

His head hurt, which wasn’t unexpected. He rotated his arms and winced as dried blood pulled against his blacks and cuts on his arms made themselves known. As he looked down, his visor light showed several gashes between the plates of his rerebrace and shoulder bell on his left side and on either side of his elbow plate on his right side. The injuries thankfully weren’t still weeping blood, but moving the appendages was still painful. Probably not the reason he fell unconscious, then. But that was a mystery for later. 

He checked his locator and found himself to be in one of the outermost sections of the Coruscant Guard compound. 

The relief he felt at knowing where he was was quickly overwhelmed by the fact that he had no clue how he got there. He remembered a meeting with the Chancellor to go over the bombing findings, feeling cold, and then…nothing.

Fox wracked his brain so hard it hurt. But he still couldn’t come up with anything. This couldn’t be happening, not again. He couldn’t be cracking under the pressure, he was fine, he had to be fine, his men were counting on him to be fine. 

Fox took a few deep breaths in and out, trying to be undeterred by the way his lungs didn’t seem to want to expand all the way and his ribs ached with the movement. He had a job to do. The confusion and worry could wait until he was done—who was he kidding, he’d never be done, he’d just keep jamming it further and further into that box until it started seeping out through the cracks, but that was future Fox’s problem if he lived long enough to see it to fruition and right now Fox had a lot more to worry about than worrying about the future and—

He forced another deep breath in and coughed it out. 

Right.

Fox looked at his chrono and internally cursed himself. His meeting with the Chancellor was three standard hours ago. Was this enough rest to count for a sleep cycle? He’d say yes and just conveniently forget to mention it to Maddox if he asked. His time unconscious would certainly account for the number of unanswered comms he had waiting for him.

The ones from the Guard were expected, asking how the meeting had gone, wondering about next steps for one of the triage centers, requesting additional supplies. 

There was one slightly concerning message from Thorn, sent over two hours ago: Lever saw you on your way out of the Chancellor’s office. Said you looked unsteady. Check in before you head back out on rotation? Just humor me, alright?

Fox didn’t remember running into Lever at all. He could only hope that he had only informed Thorn of Fox’s state and no one else.

Then there was one unexpected message from none other than Cody: 212th is inbound for shore leave on Triple Zero in a few days. Should you and your men need a hand, the boys and I would be available to lend it. 

Fox considered it for a full half-second. Having more boots on the ground would mean that injuries could be treated faster, debris could be cleaned, and things could get back to normal at a rate the senators would be demanding. 

But Fox couldn’t have Cody and his men dragged into this mess, Fox’s mess. The Guard knew how to deal with the senators and the CSF in ways that the frontline troops would never be able to manage without significant upset. It would be better for everyone if they steered clear of the impacted zones. 

You can help by keeping them clear of the cordoned-off areas and warn them against overindulging at 79’s just this once. We’ve got the rest handled, Fox sent back, professional as ever. He was tempted to answer Thorn as well to give him the peace of mind Fox knew he needed and deserved, but the light from his comm was making his eyes ache. 

Fox rolled his neck slowly, took a breath, and stood up. He was promptly forced to grab onto a shelf to avoid ending up right back on the floor as it spun around him, his equilibrium totally off. His whole body felt fuzzy and his arms burned with the effort of keeping him upright. 

He just needed to get back to the Commanders’ quarters. Then he could patch himself up, get a cup of caf, and head to where he was needed most. He was fine. He’d walked further on Coruscant with worse injuries before. 

After a few more breaths, the dizziness had abated some. Fox squared his shoulders, turned off his visor light, and opened the door to the supply closet, hoping that no one caught his rushed exit. 

The walk back to his quarters did manage to clear his head a little, which was a relief. He was overreacting, that was all. Maddox would probably spout some lines about ‘cumulative stress’ and ‘not enough rest’ as he was fond of doing. Fox knew he had good intentions, but he had also heard all the advice before.

There was simply no advice that could permanently fix the cesspool that was Coruscant. There was only management and white-knuckling it until it either miraculously fixed itself or the war ended. Neither option looked promising.

He made it to his quarters without incident. With Stone off-world and Thorn and Thire out in the field, Fox had a few moments to himself to assess his injuries. He wiped the plastoid armor down—Corrie red paint was good for a great many things, and hiding blood could be both a blessing and a curse—and grabbed a new set of blacks. 

The cuts didn’t need Maddox’s attention. He and the other medics were up to their elbows in serious cases. This wasn’t anything that Fox hadn’t patched up himself before. They didn’t even seem deep enough to warrant stitches. He made a note of some faint red lines that seemed to be emanating from one of the cuts and traveling up his arm, but didn’t worry about it further. He simply cleaned them up, foregoing the bacta to save for emergencies, and bandaged them as best he could. 

With his armor back on, the only noticeable difference was a slight stiffness in his right elbow. His fellow Guard would surely notice, but it would be easy enough to explain away. 

He checked his comm one final time. Cody had replied with a curt, Will do. With that problem settled, and Fox most surely not regretting it for a single instant, especially given Cody’s past offers to help or simply catch up any time he was on-planet, he left the quarters.

And promptly took a step back as Thorn came in. Judging by his hurried step back too, Thorn hadn’t been expecting to see him.

“Fox!” With just that one word, Fox’s observation was proved true. Thorn pulled off his helmet so Fox could see his frown. “Did you check your comm?”

Fox nodded. “Didn’t mean to worry you. I crashed right after the meeting.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but it still made something uneasy sit in his chest. Fox couldn’t have them worrying about him though, not with everything else they had on their plates.

Thorn’s frown abated just a little, replaced by a crease of worry. He searched Fox’s face for any sign of the half-truth. “Glad to see you finally took some of our advice,” he finally said. Any annoyance he seemed to have held slipped away at the idea that Fox had stolen just a few hours for himself. 

The weight in his chest grew heavier. 

“How are things looking out there?” Fox asked, diverting the conversation back to more pressing matters.

“Grizzer, Hound, and the rest of the ARFs are searching the rubble for survivors. Maddox and his team and the natborn medics have the triage areas pretty well under control. Maddox just moved back into our medical facility, actually, with the more serious  Guard cases. You see the supply request?”

Fox nodded and opened it up on the datapad on his desk. All it took was a quick signature to get the wheels rolling. “Level of unrest?”

Thorn thought for a moment. “Not bad. Then again, mostly the upper levels were hit, so they’re more focused on pulling together and helping out than moving stolen goods to a less fiery location. Some minor looting, but it’s under control.”

Good. That was all very good. He felt a flash of pride for his men in the Guard, pulling together when they needed to most. He had never expected or hoped for anything less. Before he could open his mouth to ask anything else, Thorn beat him to it. 

“How was your meeting with the Chancellor?”

Cold. 

Yes, how was the meeting he didn’t quite remember?

“I updated him on the situation and assured him that more precautions were in place to prevent such an attack from happening again,” he said, almost automatically slipping back into Senate-speak. 

“Uh-huh,” Thorn said slowly. He made a face like he knew exactly what Fox was doing, and knew that Fox would be able to read that exact sentiment on his features. “But how did it go?”

“Fine,” Fox assured. Thorn and the other members of the Guard shouldn’t have to worry about fallout from this. This was Fox’s burden to bear.

Thorn raised an eyebrow “Just fine?”

“Yes, Thorn, fine. I gave him the update, told him I’d do better, and that was it.”

There was a pause. “You mean we, right?” Thorn’s scrutiny seemed to bore through Fox’s eyes. He almost wished for the cover of his helmet, which was still hanging uselessly in his hand. “You do know this isn’t all on you?”

Fox clenched his jaw. “I’m the one that let the droids through,” he said, a simple statement of fact. 

“Trig and Sixer were right there with you, Fox. There was no way you could’ve known.” 

Fox watched as the scrutiny melted into pleading. Thorn needed him to see that it wasn’t his fault, but that would never be the case. “I’m the Marshal Commander. It was my call.”

“That’s a load of osik,” Thorn shot back. “None of us blame you.”

I blame me. 

The thought flitted around Fox’s pounding head. It wouldn’t be banished anytime soon. 

“None of this changes anything,” Fox said. Without waiting for Thorn’s reply, he slid his helmet back on. The sound of the seals clicking in place and the bucket pressurizing didn’t help his growing headache. “What quadrant is still in the worst shape?”

Thorn didn’t answer him immediately. His eyes roved over Fox, stopping minutely at his injured elbow, before making their way back up to his masked face. He sighed. “Quadrant B-5.”

Fox nodded and took a step forward, intending on going right out the door and back into the fray. Thorn’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing that stopped him. 

“Get some actual rest in a few hours, alright?” he asked. “Think of it as giving Maddox a break, not having to tie you to one of the beds in the medbay.”

A ghost of a smile found its way to Fox’s face that that. Maddox had threatened on numerous occasions to resort to those exact measures and Fox didn’t doubt that if the time came, he would have no trouble following through on them. Good thing he wouldn’t need to, because Fox had it handled. 

“Never anger the medics,” Fox said, parroting one of the most common phrases anywhere in the GAR.

Thorn held his gaze through the helmet for a moment longer before he clapped Fox lightly on the shoulder and continued into the room, leaving Fox to enter the hallway alone.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a long walk to Quadrant B-5. Fox could’ve taken a speeder, but there was really no need, and he didn’t want to take resources away should someone at the Guard HQ need to get to one of the further locations in a pinch. So, Fox kept attention on his peripheral while also scrolling through his comms as he made the trip, ensuring that all the questions various members of the Guard had sent in over the last few hours had been answered. He reaffirmed to Thire that he was in fact fine and checked that Stone’s escort mission was still proceeding on schedule. By the time he made it to the still-smoking site, the number of notifications had dropped to one—from Cody, which he was saving to look at later when he had the mental space to deal with it—and things were as under control as they could be.

His arm ached when he lowered his vambrace and he rolled both his shoulders in an attempt to ease the discomfort. It didn’t work, but there was no time to worry about it now. 

He made his way to the mobile aid station set up near the initial blast site and got the sit rep from the staff on duty. A few volunteer natborn medics meshed with the Guard staff and were successfully dealing with cases as they came in. Everyone was triaged, treated as best as the staff were able, and sent forward. Injured Guard members were sent to their own medbay, other clones to the GAR hub, and stable civilians transported to other hospitals for further treatment. 

Confident they had it under control, Fox then checked in with Hound, the massiffs, and the rest of the recovery team. Hound said it was good to see him—confirming Fox’s suspicion that Thorn had not in fact kept Lever’s report to himself—and that they were making good progress. Fox filed away preliminary reports and made notes of damages and further buildings that would require investigation before being deemed fit for reentry. Just the thought of all the flimsiwork that was going to pile up on his desk in the coming days was enough to make his head spin.

The hours passed slowly despite all the work, and were made to feel even slower by the constant burning sensation that was steadily making its way up both his arms. His hands felt like they were made of static, the kind of sensation he usually only associated with the aftermath of being electroshocked. 

Fox took a moment to clench his hands and stared at the mess in front of him. The sun was just beginning to rise and plumes of smoke made their way into the air from multiple points in the city, obscuring the temporarily golden sky. At least the fire brigades had done their jobs and controlled the blazes before they had gotten out of control. 

A shout went up off to his right and Fox turned—a little too fast, judging by the way his brain seemed to need to catch up to his body—to see Grizzer pawing underneath a chunk of fallen duracrete. Fox jogged over, again, a mistake, but he was there and capable of helping, and he wouldn’t let anyone see him doing anything else. It wasn’t unheard of to still find people after a day of being trapped, after all. 

“There’s someone under there,” Hound informed him, confirming Fox’s suspicions. Hound then bent down and scratched Grazer’s head. “Good work,” he praised. 

Once the alarm had been raised, every able-bodied person in the vicinity clustered around the fallen slab. They worked to remove the rest of the debris from around the chunk before all grabbing a section and pushing it upright; there was no time to wait for an excavator droid. 

Fox, along with Hound and the rest of their brothers, were able to raise it just enough so that the person trapped in a hole below the debris could be pulled to safety. 

It was agonizing. If Fox thought there was fire in his veins before, that was nothing compared to the blaze that had been ignited once he had pushed his muscles to their limit. Even after they collectively lowered the slab back to the ground and Fox shook out his arms, the feeling didn’t stop. It had clawed its way into his shoulders and was beginning to spread towards his chest, tendrils of flame licking their way between his ribs. 

Hound snapped his fingers in front of his face, causing Fox to jolt. “What?” Even with his bucket on, Fox could tell that Hound was staring at him. 

“I said, your hands alright?” Hound gestured minutely to Fox’s hands, which he had continued stretching and clenching at his sides. He immediately stopped, which only made the static sensation worse. 

“Fine,” Fox brushed off. 

“You should spend your free time working on your grip strength,” Hound said. It took Fox three seconds too long to realize he was joking. 

“What free time?”

“Ah, there he is!” Fox could hear the smile in Hound’s voice. “C’mon, Grizzer’s due for her break. I could use an extra set of eyes to make sure no one gets too close, she’s still hopped up from all the excitement.”

Fox should probably say no. There were still things to do at the site, and he needed to check in with the other locations too. 

“The boys have it handled,” Hound said, reading his mind.

Fox’s chest clenched, and not from the worry of leaving his men unattended. “Alright,” he relented after deciding that a short answer would be best. He could debrief Hound back at headquarters too, have some firsthand reports to give to the Chancellor when he would inevitably ask for another update in a few hours.

Fox wasn’t sure how he’d be ready for that next meeting. But he would have to be. 

“I’m glad at least someone gets a break around here,” Hound said as he scratched Grizzer’s head again before beginning to lead them back to the Guard complex. He wasn’t wrong. The animals tended to get breaks and working hours, while many troopers in the Guard frequently pulled double—or in the Commanders’ cases, triple—shifts to ensure that all areas were sufficiently staffed at any point in time. 

It was a cruel fact that Fox didn’t like to look at face-value too often. Right now was definitely not the right time. 

Hound’s voice continued and it was only when Fox tuned back in that he realized they’d already walked a whole quadrant over. “I mean, where else am I supposed to get them now?” Hound turned towards Fox, clearly expecting an answer. 

Fox had no clue what he was talking about and his brain was too foggy to pull up any answers. His kit was beginning to feel hot and confining enough without the added pressure of keeping up a conversation. “Sorry, what?”

Hound lightly jostled Grizzer’s leash. “Her favorite treats now that the only shop I could find them at closed down.”

Oh. It was such a mundane worry. Not that it didn’t matter, because it did, very much. Fox was just grateful that for a moment, one of Hound’s main worries was finding treats for his companion and not life and death or the current state of Coruscant and the politics therein. 

Fox focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He could see the silhouette of the Guard’s building between the skyscrapers. “I’m sure Thire could help you find some replacements,” he said after a pause that had definitely gone on too long. Grizzer sniffed at his clenched hand and let out a low whine. 

Hound looked between Fox and Grizzer. “I’ll let him know,” he replied after a similarly long pause. “You know how much he loves babysitting her, anyways.” 

Fox could barely manage to nod. Thire, with a love for animals that could almost rival Hound’s. The two of them made a good team. Good soldiers, and more than that, they still carried some of the light that Coruscant worked very, very hard to snuff out. Fox hoped this war would end before it was gone entirely, replaced with a grim seriousness that had taken root in so many brothers in the Guard.

A grim seriousness that he had helped seed in an attempt to keep them safe.

When he pulled his head out of his musings, Fox began to realize that their pace had slowed considerably. Hound was keeping up with him and based on his helmet’s movements, he was probably speaking to someone on his internal comm. Maybe one of the other handlers or someone at the bomb site. 

They really needed to get to the Guard building. They turned a corner and finally Fox could see it, the only place on the whole planet that signified some modicum of safety for them. He picked up the pace just a little, eager to get on with it. His muscles burned and his heart, already speeding, began to pound. 

Almost there. 

“Fox?” Hound asked, still beside him, his attention wholly focused on his Commander even as they entered the building. 

As soon as the doors sealed shut behind him, Fox paused for a moment and simply tried to breathe. His ribs were pulled too tight against his lungs. He hesitated for just a moment, grateful it was only Hound with him, before he braced an arm against the wall. Putting any weight on it hurt something awful, but it was better than collapsing in a heap on the floor. 

“Fox?” Hound was instantly there, hands hovering just over Fox’s arms. Grizzer sat obediently next to him and looked up at Fox. 

There no hiding it now. Fox cursed himself. “Just dizzy,” Fox said. But no amount of breathing through his tightening lungs alleviated the pain. If anything, it was getting worse. He couldn’t get a full breath in. Panic would do him no good. Not here, not now, not when there was so much left to be doing, and not while any of his men were watching. But he couldn’t breathe. 

Hound, probably noticing his spasming shoulders, dropped Grazer’s leash and reached with both hands towards Fox’s helmet. He gave Fox just a second to pull away, a warning, before he took it off. 

The cool air on Fox’s face helped for a moment, but it didn’t fix the problem. He had no idea what the problem even was. 

“Hey, hey,” Hound said calmly and got into Fox’s line of sight. “Fox? What can I do? The medics are already en route.”

So that was who he had been comming on their way over. Fox should’ve known. And now they were coming and they were going to be worried when they had so much else they already had to be worried about. 

Because of him. All of it.

“Come on, you know that isn’t true,” he heard Hound say quietly in response to something that should’ve been in his head.

His arm against the wall buckled and it was Hound’s hands on his elbows that prevented him from falling directly to the ground. Where he held Fox created pressure against his bandaged cuts and he stiffened in pain. 

“Alright, down we go,” Hound said, keeping that same calm cadence he usually reserved for the wounded animals they were sometimes sent to rescue. He levered Fox’s weight until he was sitting on the floor, elbows on his knees, back pressed up against the wall. 

Sitting was much better. His head didn’t hurt nearly as much from down on the ground. He vaguely registered the sounds of hurriedly approaching boots. 

“Kriff, Fox,” Hound cursed from where he now knelt in front of him. He was staring at something on his gloves. Fox squinted and looked at them too and found that the tips were almost shiny under the harsh white light. His bandages were bleeding through. That probably wasn’t good. He’d have to add that to the list. Fox lightly thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

“Fine,” he whispered.

There was no response from Hound, at least not to him anyways, but he could hear Hound talking to the medics. When had he taken his own helmet off?

“I noticed as soon as he walked up. Didn’t look steady, like Lever said. Got him to detour back to HQ after a bit, but it’s getting worse.” He paused, like someone had asked him a question. “A few hours ago. I know. I know. But you know how he is.”

He started listing Fox’s symptoms, and when he put it like that, it sounded like more of a problem. 

“Keep breathing, there you go,” Hound said, directed at Fox. Fox could hear the worry creeping into his words, worry that he had put there. Hound laid a hand gently on Fox’s shoulder. 

Fox coughed, trying to clear some space in his lungs, but there was nothing to clear. 

“You know, I’ve never met a massiff as picky as Grizzer?” Hound’s hand tightened. “I know, you say I spoil her, but when the girl really only wants one kind of food and one kind of treat, who am I to keep it from her? I mean, her eyes are cute enough, but also, who wants an angry massiff on their hands? I certainly don’t. She needs to save the attitude for work.”

Fox latched onto Hound’s voice, dimly aware that the medics were moving him to a stretcher. Every shift hurt, but then he was steadied and they were off, Hound’s hand never leaving Fox’s shoulder, and Grizzer trotting along out of the corner of his eyes. 

Chapter Text

“What happened?”

Fox clenched his jaw. He should probably make something up. Some angry senator or a crazed lunatic with a knife. Anything would be better than the truth that he quite simply couldn’t remember.

Having moved him from the stretcher to a cot in the medbay, the medics continued divesting him of the top half of his armor and cut away his blacks. Fox heard a single muffled curse before Maddox asked for various supplies and one of the junior medics, Span, left to retrieve them. 

Maddox snapped his fingers in front of Fox’s face. “Just you and me now, Fox. What the hell happened?” He pulled a clear oxygen mask over Fox’s face and despite the discomfort of the apparatus, it did ease some of the pressure on his lungs. 

Fox willed himself to focus on Maddox in front of him, donned in scrubs, wearing a serious look on his face. Strands of hair were beginning to escape the tight black and Corrie red braid—probably Span’s doing—that ended in a small ponytail at the back of his head. The shaved sides were slightly shiny with sweat. 

If Fox squinted, he’d be able to make out the tattoo on the side of Maddox’s head. The top line read ‘clanker breaker’ while the bottom line, added later but in the same script, spelled out ‘brother fixer-upper’. It lifted morale, he’d said. Talked the idea over with another medic on Kamino before they were deployed. Fox wondered if the other medic had survived long enough to get a tattoo, what it said, and if he and Maddox had kept in contact. All things to ask later. If Fox remembered. 

But most of all, Fox noticed how tired Maddox looked, even without squinting. He needed more sleep. They all needed more sleep. Fox had just barely opened his mouth before Maddox held out a hand. 

“And before you spin me some yarn to get me off your back, I want you to really consider this, alright? The more you tell me about what happened, the faster I can treat you. Which means: less medbay time, less time away from your men, and fewer gray hairs for me,” he said, ticking off each reason on his fingers as he went. “Which is good, because no offense, but I’d rather not be second place behind you in the salt-and-pepper hair contest, though you wear it well.”

Fox sighed as much as he was able and immediately winced. “Don’t remember.” It slipped out before he even had a chance to stop it. The oxygen mask muffled his words slightly. He felt a sudden pinch in his arm and looked down to see Maddox taking a blood sample and shaking his head. 

“I really don’t need to remind you of the number of times we’ve had this conversation. Should I remind you about the cuffs instead? The boys in the 101st didn’t call me ‘Mad Doc’ for nothin’.” Although Maddox was clearly stressed and frustrated, he was gentle as ever as he removed the needle, capped the vial, and passed it off to another medic to analyze down the hall. Maddox made sure to catch Fox’s eyes when he looked up. 

“I don’t,” Fox said. He’d lied about it before. But this time, this time he was actually telling the truth, and he was pleading with Maddox to see it. 

Somehow, he did. His features softened from frustration to genuine worry and he pursed his lips. He pulled out a handheld med scanner and ran the blue beam over Fox’s head. They waited in tense silence until the device beeped. “Alright. Scan shows no anomalies, so we can worry about that later. What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“The Chancellor’s office.”

Maddox clenched his jaw. “Who was there with you?” He put down the scanner and unwrapped the bandages around the lacerations on Fox’s arms. His clenched jaw turned into a frown as he quickly applied fresh gauze to the still bleeding wounds. Fox could see the other questions on the tip of his tongue; why had Fox done these up himself instead of coming to them for help, had they looked this bad earlier, what the hell was he thinking. They’d had this conversation before, indeed, which made Fox grateful that Maddox didn’t ask. 

Maybe he should’ve been more concerned about his current state at the fact that the medic didn’t.

“The Chancellor,” Fox said through a wince. Kriff, the added pressure hurt. The fire pulsed under Maddox’s hands as Fox pushed his head back against the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. 

“None of the Guard?”

Fox shook his head minutely. Breaking his own rule of always having a partner. But he made the rule. He could decide when it got broken, especially if it meant he wouldn’t subject another brother to Palpatine’s meetings. 

“Why not?” Maddox pressed as he checked the gauze. 

“Was just a debrief,” Fox said. He knew what Maddox was doing, keeping him talking and awake, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he just rather wouldn’t. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat and yet he still felt tired. At Maddox’s raised eyebrows, demanding more information, Fox relented. “My mess to clean up, anyways.”

Maddox’s hands stilled against the bandages. “All by yourself? That’s nonsense, Fox. Nobody here believes that.” He fixed Fox with a serious look. 

“So they keep saying,” Fox said wearily.

“Maybe you should start listening.” Maddox took another moment before he switched gauze pads. “Anyone else?”

“Two Red Guards.” Thankfully, Maddox didn’t ask what happened after, so Fox didn’t again have to wrack his addled brain to come up with the same non-answer. 

“They have their nasty little prodding sticks with them?”

Fox nodded. Of course they did. They always did. They looked naked without them. Just like Fox felt, clad in only the bottom half of his armor, bare from the waist up. One of the junior medics walked by, creating a slight breeze, and he involuntarily shivered. 

“You’ve got a fever,” Maddox informed him quite helpfully, because Fox definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “But I can’t give you anything for it yet, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Save what we have,” Fox said quietly. He’d sweat it out if it meant another one of his men could get the proper help they needed. 

“Hey, hey, not what I meant,” Maddox quickly corrected, drawing Fox’s attention. “It’s because of these.” He lightly tapped Fox’s chest, causing him to look down.

When he was finally able to get his eyes to focus, he noticed tendrils of red, inflamed skin that snaked up from his arms and ended in a tangle on his chest. 

Oh. That would explain quite a bit. 

“Look worse than before,” Fox said before he could stop himself, physically feeling the blood drain from his head at the sight of it. Not good. He still needed to delegate if anything happened to him. He had a list of things for Thorn and Stone to do in the event of his untimely…removal from the Guard, but it didn’t cover the most recent events, which his other Commanders would surely need help with. He needed a datapad. Or he needed Thorn. Or both.

Maddox gently tapped his cheek. “Thorn’s on his way over. Just hang tight alright? We’re running a tox screen on your blood right now. Should figure out what’s up in just a few minutes. In the meantime, I’ll get you patched up as much as I can. Don’t you worry.”

He started shuffling bandages back and forth and pulled out a tube of bacta gel, which they used sparingly. Fox eyed it and wanted to move his arms away. “The others?” he asked. There had to be someone that needed it more. His arms would clot in time. 

“You’re the most critical in here right now,” Maddox said as he uncapped the gel and looked Fox in the eye. “I promise. Everyone else is as squared away as they can be. The triage teams did a good job.” 

Fox watched him for a moment. Maddox wasn’t the type to lie and sugarcoat. Sure, he had a good demeanor and even better bedside manner—when he wasn’t threatening to tie a brother to said bed for repeatedly disregarding the medics’ orders—but he never lied about a situation. Even in his slightly confused state, Fox knew that much to be true. 

Fox nodded ever so slightly, leaned back, and tried not to groan as Maddox got to work. 

Maddox was just finishing securing a new bandage to Fox’s right arm when Span came in, looking flustered. “Poison,” was all he said, and Maddox immediately hopped up to snag the datapad. 

Fox waited with bated breath, which definitely didn’t help his still stuttering lungs or the wheezing breaths he took in and out. 

“Nonlethal,” Maddox said before anything else, still reading. 

Fox closed his eyes in relief. So all he had to do was ride this out. He could do that. Right? 

Maddox said a few things to Span, who nodded and disappeared into the supply room. He came back with various vials and hypos and set about getting things in order. 

“Good news, you should be fine in 24-36 hours. The toxin’s got a relatively short life. Gets metabolized fast. It’s designed to be an absolute pain in the shebs though,” Maddox said as he looked unhappily at the datapad. “It’s common enough, but there’s no antidote. That and there’s a chance it’ll interact with any fever meds we give you. Pain we can control, but your body has to burn through it essentially.” Fox could hear the anger in his words simmering just below the surface. 

“Wonderful,” Fox muttered. He only slightly flinched at the hypo Span gave him for the pain and when Maddox slid in a line for IV fluids. 

“Remember those burns from Level 2685?” Maddox asked as he wet a towel. “You got through that. This’ll be fine.” He walked back over to the bed but was stopped short by the sound of thundering boots coming into the medbay. 

“Where is he?” There was a pause in the footsteps, a quiet conversation, and then Thorn was standing at the foot of Fox’s bed, chest heaving. His helmet was still on—likely he had simply forgotten to take it off on his run down here—otherwise Fox would’ve expected his mouth to be gaping open slightly. “I—“ he looked between Maddox and Fox. Even through the helmet, Fox could see him taking stock of the injuries. 

Maddox clapped a hand on Thorn’s shoulder with just enough force to jolt him out of his stupor. He then used it to steer Thorn a few cots down. Fox squinted, unable to hear their conversation. But he certainly made out the word ‘poison’ on Maddox’s lips, quickly followed by the paling of Thorn’s face. He moved to surge forward again, but Maddox’s grip on his shoulder was firm. 

They exchanged a few more words before Thorn’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. After a moment, Maddox patted his shoulder and they came back to the foot of Fox’s bed.

“I’m saving the lecture for later, you’re welcome,” Maddox said, directed at Fox. Then he pressed the cool towel into Thorn’s hand. “Hound?”

It took Thorn a moment to answer. “Still waiting.”

Maddox nodded and looked between the two men. “I’ll go update him. Yell if you need me. And I mean it, got it?”

Fox nodded, if only to get Maddox’s piercing stare to look anywhere but him. 

Satisfied, Maddox turned and walked back through the medbay, leaving Fox in the bed and Thorn still standing at the foot, towel in his hand. Thorn stared at it for a moment before he used his free hand to remove his helmet and stow it on the bedside table. Without it to protect his face, Thorn’s emotions were laid bare, even though he could look calm and composed to those who didn’t know him. 

“Thorn—“ Fox started.

“I should hit you with this,” Thorn interrupted and gestured with the towel. “For being an absolute karking di’kut. Again.” His jaw was clenched and there was a slight shake in his hand holding the towel. There were lines on his face and bags under his eyes.

Thorn stared for another second before he let out a long-suffering sigh and gingerly placed the towel across Fox’s forehead. It was blissfully cool. With the sheets underneath him and his armor still on his legs, he hadn’t realized how much he felt encapsulated by the heat steadily radiating off his body. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe just a bit deeper. 

“Men alright?” he asked when he opened his eyes.

Thorn was still standing over him. “Worried about you, but yeah. I’ve got an hour before a debrief with the public, but they have it handled until then. Thire’s doing a good job.” He reached down and wet a second towel before spreading it over Fox’s chest.

He hissed at the contact, the sudden temperature difference almost too much for his shocked system to handle. But then it settled. And it helped. 

A light tugging at his leg brought his attention back to Thorn, who was starting on removing Fox’s armor plates. Fox frowned and rolled his leg out of Thorn’s grasp. “What if I need to go?” Putting on half a set of armor would take long enough in his state, but he really didn’t want to have to contend with a whole kit of plates and straps and latches. 

Thorn looked up and pinned him with a glare. Fox could see some of Thorn’s anger simmering just below the surface. He knew not all of it was directed at him, but the bit that was still stung even though he tried not to let it. 

“Someone will wheel you out.”

“Wheel me—“

“Until you’re clear of whatever this is, you’re on bedrest, Fox. Non-negotiable.” Thorn was deadly serious. The same kind of serious Fox often saw when he was reiterating to the shinies just how important it was to be careful in their day-to-day duties. Coruscant—and Fox—had instilled that seriousness in him. “You look awful.”

“We have the same face,” Fox said almost reflexively, his tongue slightly loose in the throes of fever and pain meds that were slowly starting to creep down his nerves. 

Thorn’s anger broke for a split second as half a smile quirked on his face. Then it was gone. He got back to removing Fox’s armor in a calm, methodical manner. It was all to have something to do with his hands while he thought. 

Fox, for the moment, was content to let him have his space if it meant he could avoid the conversation that was brewing. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the medbay. The slight footfalls, muffled sounds of brothers in distress, various beeps and other droid sounds. Thankfully, Maddox had stuck him in the corner of the bay with no man opposing or on the side of him. That was good. A medbay that had beds to spare was a good sign. The situation wasn’t completely unmanageable. 

“Maddox said you saw the Chancellor and had a blackout?” Thorn’s voice dragged him back again. Fox felt him unclip the knee plate. 

“He said the lecture could wait,” Fox muttered. 

“He did.” The armor clinked where Thorn was piling it on a chair. “I didn’t.”

If Fox could’ve sighed, he would’ve. Like with Maddox, they’d had this conversation before. This was just a rehash. Fox would do whatever it took to protect his men, even to his own detriment. It was part of his duty as a Commander. Why the others still failed to see that, he didn’t know (he did, but it was easier for all of them in the long run if he didn’t).

“How many times is this now? Four? Five?” Fox didn’t answer the rhetorical question. “So add that to every time you get wounded and don’t get the proper care, and it all adds up to a frustrating number of times we have to have this conversation, right?” The greaves joined the knee plates, but Thorn left the boots on, for which Fox was grateful. 

“I just—I don’t know how—“ Thorn blew out a frustrated breath. Fox cracked his eyes open and saw him shaking his head to himself. His fingers were curled around one of Fox’s thigh plates. “One day you’ll see that taking care of yourself takes care of us, too.”

At that, he turned his attention away from Fox’s legs and back to his face. He reached over, re-wet the towels with cool water, and put them back. “I guess we’ll all just have to keep reminding you until that day comes.”

Fox swallowed. The tightness in his chest was no longer entirely from the poison. The pressure only increased when Thorn moved the armor to the table and sat down in the uncomfortable chair next to Fox’s bed. 

Fox considered telling him to move, honestly, he did, but Thorn would just dig his heels in. Too, he could use an hour off his feet before a debrief. And it wasn’t so bad having someone close by. It took the edges off the ever-present panic. 

The chair creaked as Thorn leaned over to adjust the towel on Fox’s head. “Get some rest, ori’vod,” he said, sounding every bit as tired as Fox felt. 

The mask over his face continued its near-silent hissing and, steadied by Thorn’s presence and completely worn out, Fox’s body surrendered itself to do just that.

Chapter Text

The cold air moved like tendrils of toxic smoke. They reached out from the peaceful black space Fox had been floating in and snaked up his legs. No matter how much he tried to run or shake them off, their hold tightened, until Fox was anchored to the floor. 

They crept up his body, foggy white arms against the darkness of his black bodysuit. He didn’t even have his armor for protection. 

“Get off me,” he muttered as he struggled against them. Bending his legs was no use and soon they had twisted around his abdomen, his chest, and down his arms no matter how incessantly he tried to brush them off. Then, all at once, the tendrils pulled. Fox was forced to his knees, hands behind his back, head trapped to look at the nothingness that was the floor. Each smoking arm settled like ice against his body, burning a cool, steady fire through his blacks. 

“Perhaps you are better like this,” said an equally cold voice from the darkness. Fox couldn’t even lift his head to look. Every struggle and flinch of muscle was rewarded with a new icicle buried in his flesh. “Less of a danger to your brothers, at the very least. Were you aware that the banks have been deregulated as a result of your mistake? Just think of what we can accomplish with those funds. We can afford to send clones to every corner of the galaxy to clean up Separatist skirmishes. All thanks to you, Commander.”

The cold voice morphed into something slippery and sickly-sweet. 

Palpatine.

“Your actions can’t protect them, and neither can your stringent rules. You must see that. It is fruitless. You turn them cold in your futile effort to prolong their short lives.” 

Fox could practically feel him hovering just in front of him, but he couldn’t yet look up. He grit his teeth.

“You are but one clone. You will never be enough.” 

The tendrils around his neck turned to ice, forcing him to look up. A dark, hazy silhouette of the Chancellor was indeed before him. His lips curled in a sadistic smile while his yellow eyes bore straight through Fox’s soul. 

“Though, I must admit, it is admirable to see you try, even though you know you will fail.” 

Fox did know that, in the long run. There was no way he could save all of his men, try as he might. But he could still do something. His rules did protect his men, even if they stripped them of their individuality for their own protection the moment they were outside the Guard buildings. But it had to be worth it in the end. It had to be. There were more brothers alive today than there would have been had he slacked off, or even simply done the work that was required of him, instead of taking on so much extra. 

“Oh, Commander,” Palpatine said, his mouth morphing into a grotesque frown. “We can’t have any of that, now can we?” He raised his hand and lines of smoke shot towards Fox faster than he could turn his head away. They gagged his mouth and covered his nose and very suddenly, the black world began to get even darker. 

Fox’s chest heaved as he struggled against the icy binds, even as they put immense pressure on his ribs. He needed out. 

He pulled with all his might, muscles screaming, trying to twist his neck even a centimeter more to find some relief. He yelled something incoherent against the gag. He refused to die like this, alone and silenced in his own mind. Fox continued screaming and felt the burn as the words clawed their way out of his throat and were deadened into near-complete silence by the smoke. 

“—ox!”

Fox stopped struggling for a split second. Something that sounded almost like a muffled version of his name echoed throughout the space. The Chancellor never used his name. 

“—p out of i—“

Palpatine moved in front of his face in an instant, like a glitching hologram. “They will not save you, in the end,” he hissed. He moved too fast for Fox’s eyes to track, putting his hands against Fox’s face, sending the toxic fog straight into his lungs. 

Fox continued to struggle, but the ice made him feel heavy. It solidified in his veins like duracrete and pulled him down towards the inky blackness. He didn’t want to stop fighting, but there was no way out from under the immense weight. 

He sunk and sunk and choked on his screams and—

There was a sudden, sharp pain across his face, but Fox hadn’t seen Palpatine move. 

“Fox!” 

It rang throughout Fox’s head, clear as a bell. A brother calling his name. 

They sounded desperate. In need of help. His help. Fox had never ignored a cry for help before, and he wasn’t about to start now. 

He grit his teeth and clenched his hands as much as he was able. He moved his neck within its icy bonds to break Palpatine’s hold on his face. With just a moment’s respite, the icy onslaught dulled, and some of the blackness in the room faded. 

Palpatine’s face was still a snarl, but Fox could see a small amount of surprise in his eyes. 

“No,” Fox ground out, pure fury. 

He felt another pain, this time across his wrist, and focused on it with all his willpower, as if that alone could melt the frozen shackles. He heard his brothers calling his name. He couldn’t leave them, not yet. Not when there was still so much to protect them from. 

A pinprick of light in the pitch-black ceiling drew his immediate attention and he clawed his way towards it, leaving shards of ice in his wake. He could feel the tendrils trying to snake back up his legs, but he was determined. They wouldn’t get him, not again. 

“It’s futile, Commander!” Palpatine called after him. 

Fox didn’t slow down. 

There was no calm coming back to awareness. Fox snapped into his body in a chaotic instant to the sounds of screeching scanners and brothers worrying over him. His chest convulsed as he gasped breaths of air in and harshly coughed them out, as if the movement would dispel the frozen crystals growing in his chest. 

His hands flew to the obstruction on his face, but they were immediately batted away. 

“That stays on, it’s to help you.”

Fox rocked his head back and forth. “No. Can’t—get in again,” he mumbled incoherently. He needed the lingering sensation of the hands off. He raised his arms again and they were subsequently pinned to his sides. 

Fox opened his eyes at that, expecting to see brothers at his side, but all he saw through his rolling vision were amorphous shadows. He couldn’t know they weren’t Palpatine, that he hadn’t followed Fox somehow. It didn’t make sense, but it did. He couldn’t risk it. 

“He—you—won’t get them,” he spat and continued trying to get the damned obstruction off. 

Finally, the pressure on his arms eased and the ghostly hands on his face were removed. He still couldn’t get his breathing under control, but at least it was off. He was free. The tendrils couldn’t get him. 

It was at that point his body began shivering. There were words exchanged over him, cold compresses applied, but all that did was make more muscles spasm involuntarily. He felt as if he would shake apart, an ice sculpture that would topple and shatter into thousands of pieces against an unforgiving floor.

No matter how many times he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, the hazy shadow wouldn’t leave his vision. It glitched between standing right next to his bed and watching him from the corner of the room. Fox couldn’t move his eyes fast enough to track it. His heart was racing in his chest. 

“Okay, this isn’t working. Thorn, get under his other side, we need to move him to the ‘freshers.”

While Fox was aware of the words, they didn’t connect to anything in his brain. All he knew was that there were suddenly hands on his arms again, and they hurt. Fox immediately flinched away and tried to bring his arms into his chest, but they were shaking so badly it made them almost impossible to control. 

“Don’t,” he whispered between chattering teeth as he flicked his eyes between both shadows. 

Surprisingly, both sets of hands stilled. 

“Fox,” one said calmly. It sounded like a brother, shrouded in a shadow that Fox couldn’t clear. He wanted to believe it. “You’re burning up. We need to cool you down.”

Fox vehemently shook his head. He was freezing. He couldn’t get the ice out of his lungs. 

A gentle hand on his face jolted his attention back to the shadow. He wanted to flinch back. He wanted to lean into it. “You know I don’t lie to you, right?” 

Fox continued heaving breaths in and out. He couldn’t get the poisonous arms to unwrap themselves from his mind. He wrenched his eyes shut and tried to focus on the hand on his cheek. It was firm but gentle, as was the other set of hands on his arm. Maddox didn’t lie to him. Thorn was always steady. 

Palpatine wouldn’t get to them, too, Fox would make certain of it. They were supposed to be safe in the Guard’s medbay, because Fox had done absolutely everything in his power to make it safe. For everyone. Including him. 

“Yeah,” he finally said in a rush, voice shaking along with the rest of him before he could think twice and take it back. 

The hand from his cheek moved back to his arm. “Okay, ‘freshers it is. Gonna get you up. Apologies in advance.”

Fox kept his eyes closed and didn’t bother asking anything further. The hands—Thorn and Maddox, it had to be—lifted him in one fluid motion and hooked his arms over their shoulders to support him between them. The movement pulled at every single one of his simultaneously frozen but fiery muscles and sucked the air from his lungs.

They moved down the hallways at a speed that Fox couldn’t place and only blessedly stopped for a moment to lower Fox to the ground. 

There was a conversation that Fox didn’t pay much attention to, too focused on breathing and keeping himself tethered to the waking world. After a moment, a body slid between him and the wall and his back was pressed flush to someone’s chest. It was too warm.

“Water on,” one of them said. Fox, eyes closed so the nightmarish shadows wouldn’t take the place of his brothers, couldn’t place who it was. 

When the water did come on, it stung in thousands of tiny, frozen needles against his skin. He tried to twist away, but he was blocked in by his brother’s arms on either side. Not tight enough to feel restrictive, but tight enough to prevent him from moving out of the stream.

“Just a few minutes. You alright, Thorn?” the same voice asked. 

“Aces.” The chest behind him rumbled with the response. 

Fox craned his neck back, trying to suppress some of the shivers as he did so. He cracked one eye open, fully prepared to slam it shut if the same creature plagued his vision. Through the water, he could make out Thorn’s tan skin and worried face. His forehead always crinkled when he was concerned. The sight alone had him going slightly lax in relief. “Thorn,” he whispered.

Thorn’s face broke into a smile, a genuine smile, as bright as Tatooine’s suns. “Yeah, Fox. You’re going to be fine, like Maddox said. Just a few minutes.” His hair was plastered messily to his face under the water, which had to be cold for him too. Fox had to keep blinking to keep the water out of his eyes, but he could’ve sworn that Thorn’s eyes looked red.

Fox turned around and let his head thunk back against Thorn’s chest. His arms tightened slightly around Fox’s in response. “Maddox?” Fox asked, unable to see him clearly through the spray. 

“Right here,” the medic assured. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

Fox hummed. The water was too cold against his skin and Thorn was too hot against his back. But anything was better than the darkness. When Fox let himself focus, he could feel Thorn’s heart thudding. He tried his best to count the beats while the water cascaded over them both and willed his own to match Thorn’s steady beat.

Fox was surrounded by voices. They would come in and out of focus, like a comm that was having trouble breaking through an encryption. Even though Fox couldn’t make out what they were saying, he could feel their presence, feel the care in their words. There was enough light in their deep timbre to chase away any remaining shadows. Every so often he would feel a light, comforting pressure, but never enough to make him feel panicked or boxed in.

When he was finally able to drag himself back to consciousness, it was to the dimmed lights of the medbay and the quiet sounds within. There were a few soft voices at the other end, but apart from that and the usual sounds, it was quiet. Probably the night cycle, then. 

Fox took a breath—surprised that it didn’t immediately claw painfully through his chest—and blinked to get used to the lighting. He very quickly found one of the sources of the pressure he had felt. 

Maddox was sitting in a chair next to Fox’s bed. His head, hair freed from its braid and covering part of his face, was pillowed on one folded arm on the bed. His other hand was clasped gently around Fox’s wrist, his fingers against the pulse point. 

“I told him to sleep in a real bed,” said a soft voice off to Fox’s other side. He rolled his head slowly and was met with Thorn, sitting in a similar chair. “Called him a hypocrite. You know what he did?”

He was watching Fox like he was actually expecting an answer. A test of his alertness, maybe. Fox raised his eyebrows in a question. 

“Laughed, sat down, and proceeded to knock out.” Thorn shook his head just a little while a fond look played across his face. 

“Medic perks,” Fox said. His voice came out a rasp and he frowned in discomfort. Thorn pulled a cup of water out of nowhere and tilted it so Fox could drink. 

“Your fever broke about an hour ago, right before he sat down. How are you feeling? Honestly.” Thorn looked wrung out, either one minute from dozing off himself or one wrong answer from being sent into panic mode. 

Fox took stock of himself very meticulously. His head hurt but felt clearer than it had in a long time. His arms hurt, but not as bad. When he looked down, he was still bare-chested, and while there were still red lines snaking across his chest and arms, they didn’t look half as angry as before. Aside from the bone-deep exhaustion—which was really only a step or two worse than how he normally functioned—he felt better.

“Improved,” Fox said. The amount of time it took him to respond seemed to bolster his response in Thorn’s eyes. Fox noticed his fellow Commander was back in his armor. He was pretty sure he had been in his blacks when Fox had last been conscious, but the whole ordeal was slippery to hold onto. “What time is it?”

Thorn looked at his chrono. “Just past 0200. Makes it about the 31 hour mark.”

Fox sighed. He had really hoped to be on the shorter end of the recovery timeframe. That made it almost a full day since he had been brought to the medbay. 

Thorn put a hand on Fox’s shoulder, stopping his train of thought in its tracks. “Everything’s under control. You didn’t miss much, honestly. Maddox said it would probably take you longer to get back on your feet since you’ve been running yourself into the ground lately.” He fixed Fox with a pointed look but it quickly softened. “Hound and Thire and some of the other vode have been sitting with you too. Maddox thought it would be best if you weren’t left alone until the fever passed.”

He could tell there was more to that statement based on the way Thorn’s eyes broke from his for a moment. Thorn didn’t elaborate.

Fox may not have remembered much, but he knew that his brothers simply being in close proximity to him had helped keep him tethered. He just hated being another thing they had to keep an eye on when they had so much else to worry about. 

“And before you even think,” Thorn started and raised his hand from Fox’s shoulder to point at him, “about saying sorry, answer me this. If it were one of us in your spot, would you hear it from us? And no ‘I’m the Marshal Commander’ lines. Yes or no?” 

When phrased like that, the answer was simple. “No.”

Thorn raised his hands in a ‘there you go’ gesture and dropped them to his knees. “We can run the Guard for a time, Fox. Hells, maybe a long time. But not until the end of the war, not without you.”

Fox was more than confident in their abilities to carry on without him. But he wasn’t about to voice that to Thorn. He knew how even the thought of losing one of his brothers, let alone a Commander, tore at his soul, so he could begin to imagine what losing him could do to their collective morale. “I won’t stop protecting you,” he finally said. 

“I’m not asking you to. Just…maybe in moderation? We can’t keep doing this.” Thorn sighed and scrubbed a gloved hand down his face. “You may be the Marshal Commander and an ori’vod to a lot of brothers here, but you’re still a vod. And we look after our own.”

And that was the heart of the matter, wasn’t it? They were all each other had to depend on. A closed circuit. Losing even one of them hurt the Guard as a collective. Fox was part of that collective, even though he led it. 

“And whatever’s going on here,” Thorn continued, not specifying but Fox still understood implicitly, “we’ll figure it out. As a group.” There was a note of hopeful uptick at the end. 

Fox couldn’t be the one to destroy that hope. He had to at least try. “Okay.” 

He could almost see the weight lift off Thorn’s shoulders. He smiled at Fox, a fragile thing, shot through with exhaustion, but still bright. 

Fox still fully intended to take all of the meetings with Palpatine. He’d still work overtime to ensure things were running smoothly. But maybe he could…delegate better. At least work on trying to ask for help. Progress had to begin somewhere. Maybe it would be worth it just to see fewer worried glances from his Commanders every time they looked at him.

“Did we have a breakthrough?” Maddox muttered from Fox’s other side, suitably breaking the emotional tension. The medic didn’t even bother opening his eyes or shifting his position. 

“Seems like,” Thorn said, his smile only growing. 

“Fantastic.” Maddox’s fingers tightened subtly on Fox’s wrist. Whatever he sensed must have assured him that Fox was no longer in danger, since he made no move to get up. “Don’t even think about getting up. I am the cuff, got it? Maybe when I get up, you can get up. Maybe. Until then, lights out.” 

He said it all without raising his head, which Thorn seemed to find wildly amusing. He propped his boots up against the end of the bed and wiggled in his chair. “You heard him. Get comfortable.” 

Despite everything, Fox found himself smiling too. Thorn shifted again, crossing his arms over his chest and bringing his boots to rest gently against Fox’s calf. Maddox was lightly snoring in no time flat, a skill he said he’d perfected on the front lines, being able to sleep anywhere, anytime if given the opportunity. 

Thorn didn’t look like he’d be sleeping, despite the exhaustion. When his boot lightly tapped Fox’s calf, Fox shut his eyes. Progress. Small steps. Start somewhere. So, Fox took a breath that didn’t hurt, focused on the sound and the comfortable presence of his brothers, and followed his medic’s orders.