I can't. I can't do it.

Slowly, he rises from the bar stool, walks toward the men's fresher.

It's too much, it's...I can't do it anymore.

A slurred, happily drunk voice calls out. "Hey, Bow, where ya headed?"

"Fresher." He barely hears his own voice, barely feels the ground beneath his feet. Faces, voices, bodies pass by his eyes; he doesn't acknowledge them, they don't acknowledge him.

I-I can't. I can't do this anymore. It's too much, too much, too much…

I can't live like this.

Not...like...this…

The door opens without hesitance. The bar's music, already barely audible to him, fades to a bare memory, falls away with the rest of him as he nudges the handicap stall open. He locks it behind him.

He doesn't register his own breathing, stares into the white toilet's bowl as memories, sounds, sights, crash against one another in agonizing white noise and heat.

Make it stop. The screams. The pain. I-I can't-

"Bow, you in here?" another voice, less slurred, yells.

No response. Footsteps approach. "Bow!"

I can't.

Make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop. Make. It. Stop.

His fingers brush the blaster in its holster, wrap around the grip. It slides out easily.

The footsteps come closer, grow louder. "Bow, where are you?"

The dark, empty nozzle of the blaster stares at him. He feels as if he falls into it, feeling nothing, hearing nothing-

A fist pounds on his door, frantic. "Bow! Bow, I know you're in there!" The voice is just as frantic as the fist, almost more than. "Bow!"

I'm sorry.

He slips his thumb over the trigger.

Goodbye.

He fires. No hesitation.

OoOoO

Days Earlier.

"Bow, what's up?"

Bow barely notices the greeting. He stares, swaying side to side, back and forth-he's sure he's the only one who notices, though.

Brown eyes appear in his vision. "Bow, what's wrong?" The voice is concerned, worried, but calm. It masks its other emotions well.

"I'm tired."

The skin around the pair of eyes crinkles. "When was the last time you slept?"

Bow has to sit down, so he does. He chooses a bed and rests on it, rolls onto his back. "I just woke up."

"Ah." The medic, his body standing tall, reaches somewhere outside Bow's field of vision. He pulls up a chair, rests his own weight in it and stares intensely into Bow's eyes. "Is it...tired like it was last week?"

No. And Yes. Bow doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't for a while. The medic knows to be patient, relaxes into his seat to give Bow space.

"Sort of," he mutters. "It was more, a few days ago. Now, it's not as strong." Nothing was as strong, not his need to eat or drink, his need to sleep, shower, brush his teeth-anything.

"You're feeling better?" The medic scoots forward a bit, the tiniest, barest glimmer of hope in his eyes. He thinks he's helped, that he's done a good job of playing psychiatrist despite not having the training.

Bow only just notices the datapad and stylus in the medic's hands.

He's embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind." He turns the screen so Bow can see it. Bow doesn't make an effort to focus his eyes. "I've been tracking your progress over the past few weeks, Bow."

A rather plain chart stares at him. Different colored lines glide across the grid, intersect to create different points. One flashes.

For once, Bow is interested in something. "What's that?"

"Oh," the medic says. He turns the pad around to get a closer look. "This is the last time you said you really felt something."

"When I cried."

"Yes."

"Last week."

The medic sounds like a broken record. "Yes."

Silence falls. Bow doesn't like it, so he speaks again. "And the other lines?"

"These are the different levels of sleep you've gotten, what you said you felt and how strong it was, how your hygiene and personal care have been…" He explains the different color coded lines and where they match up, what it means. "The times when your eagerness to get out of bed, shower, and do other hygienic things increased with your happiness levels."

"By how much?" Maybe if he showers enough, he'll start feelings emotions in general.

"Not...not a lot." He looks guilty, rubs the side of the pad with defeat. "But it's a start."

"Can I have those pills again?"

"No, you can't-"

"Why not?" Bow demands. He remembers them clearly; small, white, hard, like any other pill. But they made him feel. They pushed his head up into a high, happy place, where he didn't care, but not in an I-want-to-die sort of way. He felt happy with the pills. He felt other things on the pills (like extremely hungry) and he wants them again. No matter what anyone says.

"You got addicted to them."

"Then I won't take as many."

"That was what you said," the medic sighs, "then you got addicted. It almost destroyed you."

"I'll be careful." Bow can't live with this numbness, this intrinsic sense of loathing that completely blankets his life, his thoughts, him. He doesn't want to feel either numb or angry. It's no way for a person to live.

Except to the Republic, he's not a person. He's a unit, a commodity, property of one government or another. He overheard the medic speaking in hushed tones to another clone: "If we were actually considered people, we'd get the medicine we need." It was wry, but true.

The medic caves. "I'll...I'll see what I can do, Bow. But I'm not letting you self-medicate this time."

Oddly enough, Bow actually feels something. Not quite as strong as satisfaction, but something near it. It's not enough to actually display on his face, though. "Thank you." And he means it.

The medic's face softens. He must think he's accomplished something, helped Bow in some way even though all he's done is promised him drugs. "Is there anything else you need?" The voice is hopeful, the face not so much.

"No."

Disappointment. "Bow…"

Bow doesn't want to hear it, hear anything. He stands, vacates the bed and starts heading toward the door.

"Bow, I'm trying my best." The voice almost pleads now, chases after Bow's slowly retreating back. "I'm sorry."

Bow looks back at him, meets his eyes. He's sorry, too.

He doesn't respond, leaves.

OoOoO

The medic collapses further into his chair, releases a sigh against the ceiling.

"He's not getting better." A different voice, coming from deeper inside the medbay. A second medic steps out, examines the first long and hard. "What are you going to do now?"

The first wants to scream at nothing, at everything. He wants to give up on fighting, on being a medic, on helping the shinies cope and the vets deal with whatever the hell is happening to them.

He would, if his conscience would let him.

But he can't. He can't look into hollow eyes, shallow smiles. He can't hear the soulless laughter of veterans who would rather be dead than wherever they are and feel okay with it, with himself.

He has problems too-they all do. You can't be a soldier and not end up with problems, with nightmares and vivid flashbacks and feelings of utter emptiness.

"I don't know."

"He's getting worse."

"I know."

"What if-" the second medic cuts himself off, seems to fear and regret the words even as they tumble out of his mouth. "What if...what if he ends it himself?"

Silence, heavy and thick, coats the medical bay, settles on every surface. It sinks into the first medic's lungs. "That's not going to happen." It might. It could. It probably will. "I...I'll figure something out before that happens."

The second purses his lips. "Do you want me to get the Blue Moss for you? I've gotta make a run on Coruscant anyway."

"I think we can get some from the 686th. Cord might have a little leftover." Cord always had extra-his connections were good, sympathetic.

It would take some time, though, maybe up to a week. The both hope Bow can hold on for that long.

OoOoO

Barracks.

"Bow! Bow?" Another voice, similar to the medic's but more eager. Happier. Bow envies it. The voice comes with a face, and both come at him eagerly. "We're gonna head out." He says it as if he's bringing Bow along, willingly or not. "There's a fair going on by-"

"I don't want to go." He hates quiet but hates noise and crowds even more.

"You're going."

"No, I am not."

He frowns, huffs through his nose. "Well, you can't just lay here all day!"

Bow meets his eyes for barely a second. "Yes, I can." He's done it before.

Yotai knows this too. Maybe that's why he's even more determined, physically drags Bow out of his bed and stands him up. They're toe-to-toe. "We need to talk."

"We can talk here." Bow moves to sit down again, is brought back up by Yotai.

Yotai shakes his head, backs up a step. "You need to get away from...from all this." He motions to the base in general, but Bow notices the subtle look directed at him. Yotai wants Bow to get away from himself, from whatever chain cloud is dragging him through his daily routines. He thinks that sunlight, noise, and food will help.

Bow says nothing and, as usual, feels nothing.

Yotai's face softens, loses its intense look. "I'm worried, Bow."

"Everyone is." You're no different. Except he is, because they're squadmates and they're supposed to care about one another.

Yotai chews his inner lip. He does that a lot, especially when he's stressed. "I think I'm the only one who's trying to help you, though." He motions to Bow to sit, follows him. "See, Bow…"

Bow tenses, prepares for what he knows is about to happen. The Lecture. The "I know how you feel because I was sad once, too-but I really have no clue what's going on" talk that he'd already gotten from so many people on so many different occasions that he's lost count. He doesn't want to hear it, so he makes no attempt to. Bow stands and is immediately dragged back down.

"I know you don't believe me, but after Quiver died-" Yotai sighs, is silent for a moment. So it still hurts. Bow hadn't thought so before. He swallows, continues. "After Quiver died, I went through the same thing." He's much quieter now, much more somber. Yotai's eyes bore into Bow's.

The extended eye contact makes him feel uncomfortable, but he'd feel even worse for trying to look away. Yotai is opening up, trying to express how he's coping (or not) with Quiver's death, and that's not a side that Bow sees often.

Yotai's hands grasp each other, squeeze hard. He's started wringing his hands again, another sign that he's stressed. "I...I sometimes don't even…" He licks his lips, takes a breath, starts again, "I sometimes don't feel like-"

If he gets too frustrated he'll stop talking altogether. Bow grips his hands, rubs his thumb along Yotai's knuckles. "It's okay."

Everything in Yotai sags now. His shoulders droop, his head bends like a wilted flower. "It's so hard," he whispers to no one. "I-It's-"

Bow realizes then that Yotai knows exactly what he's going through. It's to a lesser degree, but Yotai is feeling more wrapped-up pain than Bow is. It breaks his heart.

"Hey, Yotai," Bow says in as soothing a voice he can manage. "I know how you feel, Yotai."

"I-I can't take the fighting."

"I know."

"All of the death, the...the pain and the loss and the-"

"I know, I know, Yotai." Bow kneels in front of his squadmate, tries to match the intense stare he'd received just two minutes before. "I don't think anyone can take much more of this."

Yotai chuckles in a wry, humorless sort of way. "I'm meant to be trying to make you feel better, not the other way around."

Bow manages something akin to a smile. "Role reversal is okay every once in awhile, Yotai." It's a strange position for him, attempting to help someone else cope. He doubts he's doing a very good job of it. Bow isn't much of a nurturer.

He's about to stand, figure out what else he can do to help when Yotai says his name. Had it been any other day, he would have multitasked: handled Yotai's question or phrase and wracked his brain for self-help tips.

"Bow." There's urgency in his voice, in his body language, in his face. Yotai's eyes display a bare moment of panic, search around the empty barracks as if there are extra ears on the bunks. "I can't be here any more."

A vortex opens inside Bow, violent cold wind and something heavy like boulders crashing around inside his lungs. The blood pounding in his ears is so loud he almost doesn't hear anything. His adrenaline spikes then crashes again, his fingers break out into small tremors-then all at once, it stops. The barracks are quiet. Bow can breathe. The only thing he hears or feels is the ringing in his ears.

Yotai speaks. "I...I need to leave, Bow."

Bow knows what he means. Desertion. Desertion.

Yotai wants to desert the army.

Bow can't blame him.

"I've heard of this...this secret network for clones trying to leave. There are Jedi involved, Jedi who are against using us for the war."

Bow's mind has checked out, almost stopped listening entirely. He notes Yotai's interesting use of the word "use". He guesses there's really no other way to put it-they are being used, since they were first put into tanks.

"General Dei is a part of it."

Bow isn't surprised.

"She said she can help get me out."

Bow is only staring, not hearing. His eyes slowly comb over Yotai's face; his brow is furrowed, his eyes on fire. Sweat has started to shine on his forehead and he notices that he's pale, too.

"You need to come with me," Yotai says in earnest. "You're not healthy-you're not happy-here."

Finally, Bow speaks, "What will deserting get me?"

Instead of making Bow sit, Yotai joins him on the floor, lowers his voice to a conspiratory tone. "You'll get real doctors, Bow. Not just clueless medics and drugs. You'll get the help you need, the life you deserve."

Internally, Bow is swaying. Does he stay and fight? But what does that get him (besides death)? He knows that civilians have doctors who are skilled in helping with whatever his problem is, that they can give him actual medications and healing. He's not sure if he wants to leave, but what's keeping him here? What's holding him back? Why does he feel tethered to the army?

Yotai assumes Bow's silence is indecision. "You can think about it." And he stands and steps around Bow, moving like he hadn't just admitted to committing treason. "But you and I-" He motions between them. "We're going to that fair."

OoOoO


Something I've always wanted to do was write an AU in which Ep III completely goes over differently. This starts in Episode II (towards the end) and continues well into Episode III.