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Quinlan resisted the urge to pace back and forth along the featureless corridor. He might have given in, if not for the fact that the CSF officer who’d been escorting him was still present, leaning against the far wall and watching the Jedi as if he were the threat and not the person he’d come to visit. 

Quinlan didn’t think he’d ever been nervous visiting Fox before. But then again, he never would have thought Fox capable of the things he’d done - assassinating the Chancellor of the Republic in cold blood, refusing to utter a single word or excuse as to why. 

The last few days had been a blur. Quinlan had been one of the first to know, as a high-ranking Shadow. Since then, he’d been run off his feet, no time to process or reel over what had happened, what his love had done, put to work keeping track of various criminal networks and Republic offices. None of them were behaving as they should have, even accounting for the blind panic that came with losing the Republic’s figurehead. Low-ranking criminals and officers alike were seizing the opportunity to advance their careers in the chaos, overzealous in matters of security and business. 

But, most concerning at all, there had been no word from the Separatists - no statement claiming responsibility, no final push now they’d taken out the head of their opposition. They’d been quiet. Too quiet. In fact, Quinlan had heard whispers of their senate suddenly floundering. 

The coincidence seemed too good to be true. Quinlan didn’t like it. It seemed to him that the galaxy had been spinning out of control in the last few years and it was finally beginning to collapse in on itself. 

Quinlan turned to the CSF officer again, finding them looking directly at him, and held their gaze. Likely, they were one of the overzealous idiots the Jedi had been thinking of, looking for an opportunity to make a name for himself. But since when were Jedi suspects in this disorder? Then again, no one had pegged a clone to assassinate the Chancellor, either, much less the most senior officer of the Coruscant Guard. So Quinlan supposed that suspicion was warranted. 

Much like Fox, the rest of the guard had been placed in custody, too. The lot of them had been confined to their Headquarters for the time being, suspiciously quiet about the whole affair and evidently following Fox’s lead. 

Their combined silence only had Quinlan’s frustration growing. There must have been so much more to this story, but the guard had closed ranks - not even allowing their vod in the GAR through. Because of that, the Republic was quickly growing desperate for answers, morality beginning to crumble in the pursuit of a motive. 

They, along with the Jedi, had taken it as a given that Fox was working for the Separatists. What the Republic wanted to know was how they’d managed to turn such an upstanding officer, how deep their infiltration went even if Fox hadn’t confirmed his loyalties one way or another. 

Because of that desperation, Quinlan had heard whispers of torture being thrown around more than once. He knew it was only a matter of time before those whispers grew into something stronger. If he could help to spare Fox from that fate, whatever his motivations or loyalties, he would.

The council had complied with Quinlan’s request, agreeing that he should meet with Fox in a last-ditch effort to get information out of him before it was too late. Even with the sense of betrayal sitting heavy on his shoulders, Quinlan still did his best to make sense of what had happened. He could feel in his bones that this wasn’t as clean-cut as many Senators suspected. 

What if it wasn’t the Separatists at all? Or what if Fox had been blackmailed? With his senior position, perhaps there had been information about the war that Fox had uncovered. 

Still, it all begged the question: Why hadn’t he told Quinlan?

The fact that he hadn’t hurt more than anything. They’d seen each other not two days prior to the assassination, too. Seething hells, he thought Fox had trusted him! No matter what had transpired, Quinlan had evidently been mistaken about that. The Fox he knew would have never worked with the Separatists. Then, all Quinlan wanted was answers, for himself if not for the Republic. 

He resisted the urge to sigh as he checked the chrono on the wall again. He’d been waiting in the corridor for almost twenty minutes. The CSF officers had assured Quinlan they’d just get Fox up and into the visitation room, but it couldn’t possibly have taken this long. 

It was just as Quinlan was weighing up the pros and cons of kicking off, of causing a scene, that the more senior officer reappeared once again out of a room on his left. Their expression was grave and serious, refusing to meet Quinlan’s gaze which he found more than a little strange. 

“Sorry for the delay, General. We just wanted to make him look presentable.” 

While the statement sat oddly with Quinlan, he chose to ignore it in favour of approaching the still-open door. He frowned. He needed to see Fox. Now. 

“He in there?” Quinlan shouldered past the officer without waiting for an answer. For a moment, it seemed as if they debated blocking his path, but quickly thought better of taking on a really quite intimidating Jedi Master. 

“Come on in, you’ve got thirty minutes.” 

The officer was forced to move as Quinlan bullied himself through the door, wide shoulders leaving little room for anyone else. As he stepped through, he heard the door slide shut and lock behind him, but Quinlan paid it little mind. 

As he took in his surroundings, his stomach dropped and the officer’s comment began to make sense. 

Fox looked so… small where he was slumped in a metal chair on the other side of the bolted-down table, shoulders slumped and his hands cuffed uncomfortably behind his back. He didn’t look up as Quinlan entered, but he didn’t need to for the Jedi to see the terrific black eye he was sporting, the cut in his eyebrow or his split lip. 

Evidently, the Republic had started on torture a little earlier than Quinlan had been expecting. 

A torrent of emotions swirled and warred in Quinlan’s stomach, though that didn’t include the anger towards Fox that he’d been anticipating. It was there, yes, but at the Republic for how the other had been treated. The hurt was still there, of course, but it was muted behind a thick layer of concern and pain at seeing Fox like this - broken and bloody. 

It seemed to him that the Republic were treating Fox like some dangerous, crazed beast that would lash out at the slightest provocation. But to Quinlan, there was only Fox. The force around the Commander practically bled exhaustion and hopelessness, so much so that it sent Quinlan’s head into a spin. 

With some difficulty, he took a deep breath and swallowed thickly, forcing himself to break the oppressive silence. 

“Hey…”

The first signs of life came back to Fox and it was clear he’d been dissociating. His eyes flicked up to meet Quinlan’s, one pupil horribly dilated, and his mouth dropped open a touch. There was surprise surrounding Fox in the force yet no relief. Quinlan tried not to dwell on that too much. 

“Hey.” Fox croaked back, voice unusually hoarse. From screaming, maybe? Another thought that Quinlan tried desperately to bat away. He took a step closer, hand going to the back of the other metal chair. 

“The Council asked me to come see you - to try and find out what happened so we can ensure a fair trial.” He realised too late how it must have sounded, Quinlan coming because of the Council and not his own concern for Fox. Both might have been true, but he doubted Fox would be able to make that distinction in his current state. Still, it was too late to take back the comment. 

Fox made a sound of acknowledgement but didn’t speak, wouldn’t speak, even to him. His mismatched eyes dropped down to the table. Quinlan wasn’t serene enough to pretend that it didn’t sting like a bitch, but he did his best to rationalise it. After all, he had no idea what Fox was going through and it was obvious there was more at play than just their relationship.

After the silence had stretched on far enough, Quinlan sighed heavily and tried again. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Another long quiet stretch. There were tears in Fox’s eyes, Quinlan realised after a moment. He didn’t think it was possible for him to hurt even more at the sight of them, but he did. 

“The less you know, the safer you are.” He muttered, frustratingly cryptic. Quinlan’s heart clenched. There he was, implying that he was only coming to see Fox on the whim of the Jedi Council, and there Fox was trying to protect him - even now. 

“Seems like you need someone to take care of you every once in a while, too. Hmm? We talked about this.” As much as Quinlan wanted to revisit the conversation they’d had not two days past in more detail, he was aware of the fact that they were most definitely being observed. 

“Come on,” Quinlan urged when he was met with more stony silence. “Let me help you. If not for you, then for your vod.”

That certainly got Fox’s attention. 

“Are they ok?”

“They’re fine.” Quinlan was quick to reassure him. “Confined to HQ while the Republic investigates. They think there’s a Separatist conspiracy so they’re interviewing anyone of rank, but that’s about it. Fox frowned hard and looked away, seemingly turning the information over in his mind. His jaw was clenched so hard that Quinlan feared for his teeth. 

“Talk to me… What’s going on in that head of yours?”

The corners of Fox’s mouth twitched and trembled, as if he were at war with himself, wanting to speak but unable to. Maybe he was being threatened? Or perhaps he was simply too upset to talk. Either way, Quinlan’s heart clenched for him. 

More than anything, he wanted to reach out and take the other’s face in his hands, to kiss that pained look away, but knew it would only add to both of their troubles if he acted on it. 

There was a heavy breath from Fox and Quinlan was able to catalogue the slight wheeze in his throat. He wouldn’t be surprised if Fox was black and blue under those blacks and already suspected the other was harbouring more than a few broken ribs. But before he could make a mental note to himself to open an investigation within the CSF for brutality, Fox was speaking again, this time of his own accord. 

“Take off your gloves.”

The command was a weighty one despite the fact that Fox was bound and Quinlan free. The Jedi’s stomach dropped once again. Not because he felt compelled to follow the order but because Fox knew as well as Quinlan himself did what it entailed - exactly what he was asking. He knew just why Quinlan avoided putting his bare palms on things whenever possible, even despite his affectionate nature. Neither were under any illusions as to the gravity of the request. 

The Jedi knew with utter certainty that whatever Fox wanted him to see was going to be unpleasant for the both of them. Yet the burden of not knowing was worse. 

Quinlan bit into the tip of one gloved finger, tugging the material off of his hand with his teeth. Fox waited for him quietly, taking several deep breaths through his nose to brace himself. Quinlan did the same. 

“Touch my face - the bruising.” His voice was tight but resolute. 

But… It was the CSF who had hurt Fox… Right? Quinlan knew he wasn’t the type to complain about security brutality and feel sorry for himself (even if it was more than warranted, in this case). 

The force screamed at Quinlan to deny the request, its strength almost overwhelming, but he resisted. He’d never be able to live with himself if he ignored this - no matter what he saw. 

With another deep breath, he reached out to touch Fox’s cheek. 

The force-echo there was strong , even before his psalm had fully made contact, laced with something dark that had Quinlan feeling cold. Most of the time, Quinlan had some degree of control over the echoes and vision he saw, but not with this one. 

Immediately, it felt as if his body had been plunged into an icy vat of water, consciousness existing somewhere else entirely, as if watching a scene from above. In the centre of his field of view was Fox, writhing in agony on the floor, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched as he was struck by force lightning. 

Quinlan’s first instinct was to surge forwards and help, to cry out fruitlessly, but what was left of him remained stubbornly in place. Frustrated and desperate, he could only watch. His expression would have been aghast if he were inhabiting his own body. He watched as Fox’s body spasmed, muscles pulled taunt against the unforgivable current. 

What had the Commander been trying to show him? That the Sith they’d been searching for had finally made his move? Had Fox been tortured like this until he’d given in and killed the man he was supposed to be protecting?

That was certainly the Chancellor’s carpet that Fox was writhing on, though that didn’t explain the two Redrobes that were prowling in the background, not lifting a finger to help. Surely, the presence of an assassin would have been enough to spur them into action?

Quinlan couldn’t help but read their inaction as cruel rather than cowardly, he certainly would have expected as much from people influenced by a Sith. But then, as the edges of the vision began to lighten and come into view, so did the Chancellor. 

The dread and horror in Quinlan’s gut multiplied exponentially. 

The force lightning emanated from the Chancellor.

Fuck!

No wonder Fox always seemed so haggard and guarded. If he’d been serving under a Sith all this time , Quinlan could only imagine the ideas that had been planted in his head. There would be doubts about the Republic, for certain, and the Jedi, too. Who could Fox trust? 

Quinlan wanted nothing more than to reach out, to draw Fox into the protective circle of his arms and hold him tight, to shield him from the mess this had become - but he couldn’t. The Jedi was powerless to do anything but watch the vision play out. 

Eventually, far too slowly for Quinlan’s liking, the force-lightening petered off. Fox still writhed and spasmed with the aftershocks, unable to draw in full breaths or relax his muscles. Just watching had Quinlan wincing in pain and he half-suspected Fox was nearing the threshold for a seizure. 

He watched as the other managed a halting, gasping breath and forced himself to breathe too. 

“I think our dear Commander needs a more hands-on lesson, don’t you?” The Chancellor asked the Redrobes still prowling the office. They took their leave to approach Fox who was still splayed out on the carpet and Quinlan’s stomach sank. The damage to the other’s face wasn’t from the CSF at all. 

As the first durasteel-capped red boot made a home for itself in Fox’s gut with a powerful kick, what little air in Fox’s lungs being forced out again in a pained wheeze, Quinlan knew he was reaching his limit. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch anymore. 

Only, psychometry didn’t work like that. No, Quinlan was forced to watch the scene play out until the echo was done. He could do nothing but watch as another boot collided with Fox’s side and a sickening crunch was heard. Quinlan winced on the other’s behalf but was unable to close his eyes, the vision continuing to play out as if watching a holomovie. 

He felt sick to the pit of his stomach and his mind span. It was almost as if he were feeling Fox’s pain, too, even though Quinlan knew that wasn’t a feature of his visions. 

Just as real panic began to set in, the force-echo came to an end with startling abruptness. One moment, Quinlan had been in the Chancellor’s office watching Fox fight for his life. The next, he was across from the Commander in question once again, the other’s expression grim as he stared back at the Jedi’s wide eyes. 

Distantly, Quinlan knew he was hyperventilating. His skin was cold and clammy, the room spinning as he came back to awareness. 

Quinlan’s mind raced. He didn’t know what to think. This was worse than anything he’d prepared himself for, anything he could have dreamt up in his wildest dreams. Somehow, the fact that Fox wasn’t to blame, that even then he’d been acting in the best interests of the Republic, made everything hurt all the more. 

Because how could Quinlan not have seen the pain Fox must have been in? Because there was no way the echo he’d just watched had been an isolated incident - or even the first. 

Force, Quinlan spent the majority of his free time with Fox, how had he missed this?

If he were in the mood to be kind to himself, Quinlan would have considered how covering his tracks had likely been the Chancellor’s priority. Perhaps he’d even gone so far as to put a block on Fox’s mind - those sorts of things were undetectable unless someone was actively looking for one. 

Only, Quinlan wasn’t feeling kind or gentle just then. Not towards himself, at least. The more likely possibility was that Fox simply didn’t trust him, or didn’t think Quinlan could help - would help, even if he knew. Maybe it had been an attempt to keep the Jedi out of danger but for whatever reason Fox did it, the outcome was the same. 

He’d been suffering for a long time, right under his love’s nose, and Quinlan had done nothing about it. 

Quite literally between one moment and the next, Quinlan’s world came crashing down around him. The glassiness in his eyes began to overflow, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many questions, but all he managed was a croak.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me ?” 

Fox looked tired and Quinlan could tell his question only hurt the other more. There were tears in Fox’s eyes, too, though he didn’t let them fall. 

“It wasn’t your burden to bear. Knowing, even for a moment, would have put you in danger.”

Quinlan wanted to scream. He wanted to bang his head against a wall because he could have helped. Quinlan clung onto that despite the voice in the back of his head telling him he would have been killed before he had the chance to act on anything, that Fox was right. 

“I’ll get you out of this.” Quinlan vowed vehemently, desperately. Apathetic, Fox only shrugged.

“There’s nothing to get me out of. I did it, I murdered the Chancellor. The rest is just semantics.”

Quinlan did surge across the table then, the CSF watching through the security camera be damned. With Fox’s hands still bound behind his back, he was unable to hold them like he wanted, so settled for clutching at the Commander’s shoulders instead. He shook Fox gently, as if that would be enough to force him round to his point of view. 

“You’ve done a service to the Republic.” He insisted. “I won’t see you punished for that on my watch.” Fox didn’t seem particularly reassured. He sighed heavily, though Quinlan’s passion seemed to have brought a little more life back into him. 

“It’s a losing battle, I’m not worth it.” 

“You’re always worth it.”