This Life Is Not My Own

by Charles Basilone

Rex wrote a letter to his (OC) significant other. This is a companion piece to my PJO fanfic The Soldiers, both of which explore mental health issues facing those who fight in wars. Rex is trying to explain why he won't just desert, why he has to do this, how he can both love it and hate it at the same time. Not dark, but certainly not light-hearted, either.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Dearest,

You ask why I don't just desert, you say they can't possibly keep track of all the deserters, and certainly can't find them all, but it is more than just the potential consequence of my actions that keeps me here, that spurs me to fight.

I am CT-7567. I fight for CT-7566 and CT-7568, the brothers who stand beside me.

Dearest, have you ever pressed a vibrating tuning fork to your chest?

That is what it feels like. That is the call of service. This life is not my own. It belongs to the brother next to me; it belongs to the civilian behind me; it belongs to my enemy, for whom I have respect, even if I must kill them, be they being or droid; it belongs to the Republic which created me, which I will serve with my dying breath.

In fact, this life is quite literally not mine. I was created, just another clone, just number 7567, from nothingness. I do not have a mother or father who conceived me to love me; I was born for one purpose, and one purpose alone: to serve this Republic. To fight, to bleed, and if necessary, die for this Republic. As one of my brothers said, "We're just clones. We're meant to be expendable."

At the end of the day, there is a wall between good and evil. This wall must be carefully maintained. And it must also be patrolled. Someone has to stand watch upon the wall. They must be prepared to use violence. They must be prepared to die. I am both. Therefore, it is only logical that I go, since I am both. Better me, someone who is prepared for this, who understands and accepts the risks, than someone else, who is neither prepared nor willing. Every generation must pay this price, be it as publicly as my service, or in the shadows as the Jedi who have died defending this Republic for generations have. Today our price is higher.

I may struggle to see myself as more than just a number, I may struggle somedays to be Rex, but I am always CT-7567. And that has meaning. Because CT-7567 has a duty. A purpose. A calling beyond more than cowardly self-preservation. So while I may have identity issues, some of which stem from the fact that I have millions of brothers who look just like me, I have my brothers and I have my duty. And for those I'm willing to go through hell.

Love, I don't know that I can fully explain this to you. I can't put it all in to words. I don't think I rightfully know the words for half of what I'm thinking. But hopefully this helps. I have to go now, sweet one. I will write more later. I love and miss you.

Love,

Rex

A/N: So, this is the companion piece to The Soldiers. I've not updated that in a while, because it's quite frankly one of the hardest things I've written, but I do intend to do so at some point. I will say, I love the Clone Wars. It helped me work through some of my issues with these very things. If you want something darker, read The Soldiers. Cuter/sillier? Reconciliation. Longer, dramatic, romantic, maybe a bit sweet, and on a small cliffhanger? The Silent Service. Please review.

Very respectfully,

Charles Basilone