Alright here is Part 2 of the Spark Squad Series! I apologize for taking longer than I though I would to get this up. Apparently, my motivation like to disappear on me.

It's really late (early?) as I write and post this, so it hasn't been edited much (at all). I'll come back and do that some other time, sound good? :)

Anways, the title is inspired by a line from Shinedown's, "Asking for It". As you can see, I really like Shinedown.

To all my readers, thank you and I hope to get Part 3 to you soon! 3

The eyes on his back were making Morale nervous and tense.

It was supposed to be a regular training day, but he had forgotten about today being an observation day. When he'd first noticed the Kaminoan in the room, he had completely missed the target he'd been aiming for. Since then, the eyes hadn't left him and it really wasn't helping his training.

The eyes of the Kaminoan and the Trainer followed him as he attempted to keep the same pace as his batchmates while running. He knew they were quietly talking about him; how the progress he (and his entire batch) had had ever since his and Duke's talk a while ago was declining today for him.

The Kaminoan watching him reminded him of what the brother had said. "They'll take you away from your brothers and even if you come back, you wouldn't really come back."

If they would just take their eyes off of him, he could get back to being a good soldier and not messing up; stop being a defect. Morale spared a thought for Ghost, who was (along with the others) quickly pulling ahead of him, wondering if this was how he felt on a daily basis; eyes always watching him, waiting for a mistake to judge him, watching the others pull ahead and be better than him.

Morale took a deep breath, brushing his wavy and just-below-the-ears hair out of his face. He attempted to tell himself to not look at the eyes on his back, to just ignore them and catch up with his batchmates; but he couldn't. Morale could swear that that whispering he was hearing was theirs; the eyes, cold and indifferent, were following him. Maybe if he took a quick peak, they'd go away and he could move on with his training?

He quickly raised his gaze from his feet and looked behind him, locking eyes with the Kaminoan. That cold gaze staring back at him made him flinch and it broke what little concentration he had left on the task at hand.

Morale stumbled and fell face-first onto the ground. He stayed on the ground, frozen in panic. There was no coming back from this. They were going to take him away and he would never see his brothers again and—

"Get up, cadet." The smooth, distant voice of the Kaminoan broke him out of his panicked state. He quickly scrambled to his feet and saluted, hoping to savour something from this.

"Based on my observations today, I believe there is a defect needing to be rectified here. A shame, really. Your trainer said you've made much progress the last while. Follow me so this may be fixed, defect." The Kaminoan never paused, not allowing an interruption.

Morale's breath caught in his throat and his eyes started feeling wet. He opened his mouth, ready to beg for a second chance if that's what it took. He never got a word out, though, as his ears caught the sound of furious stomping coming towards them.

He turned away from the Kaminoan, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Duke coming to them. His eyes were practically on fire and nothing was going to stop him this time.

"Morale is NOT defective, sir. Maybe if you'd take your eyes off of him every once in a while, he'd be able to concentrate on getting the job done and not being so worried about you taking him away. I thought this was common knowledge by now, you di'kut," Duke ranted, not stopping even when the Kaminoan turned an indifferent stare towards him.

Sketch quickly ran over, hitting the back of Duke's head when close enough. "Shut up," he hissed lowly. "Do you want to get—"

"Is this the other one you were telling me about?" The Kaminoan was paying them no mind, having turned to the trainer.

The trainer nodded. "He was improving for a while, so I thought he'd gotten better. Clearly, I misjudged. My apologies, sir."

The Kaminoan turned to Sketch. "And you are the squad leader?"

Sketch turned to face the Kaminoan and quickly saluted. "Yes sir!"

The Kaminoan nodded. "Both of you come with me; the rest of you, resume your training." A hand beckoned Duke and Sketch to follow; Sketch quickly obeying and Duke lagging behind.

As the three exited the training room, Morale traded nervous looks with Ghost and Pillow. This wouldn't end well.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Would you knock it off, Pillow? Your tapping is really not helping," Ghost exclaimed. They had just completed training for the day. It had been five hours and still nothing from Duke or Sketch.

Pillow snarled. "Well your rocking back and forth isn't helping, either. And why is my tapping your biggest concern right now? Our brothers could be getting killed and me annoying you is your highest priority? Quality brother right there."

"Of course it's not—"

"Both of you knock it off!" Morale cut Ghost off. "Duke has messed up plenty before. Why would they g-get rid of him now and not sooner? He'll be fine and we can all yell at him later. Sketch did nothing wrong, so he'll be fine too, okay? Can you please stop fighting?"

Pillow laughed and the sound was biting, cruel; nothing like the warm laughter it usually was. "You'd say that, wouldn't you? Maybe if you hadn't been such a failure today, we wouldn't be here!"

Morale narrowed his eyes, trying to reign in his anger and ignore the stab of hurt. He was stopped from having to figure out a reply when the sound of quiet footsteps filled the barracks.

They all turned to see Sketch slowly walking in their direction. His eyes were downcast and his arms were wrapped around him. Morale had never seen him look so defeated before. There was no Duke with him. Morale's heart sank.

"Sketch! Are you alright?" Ghost frantically questioned, dropping his knees from beneath his chin. "What happened? Where's Duke?"

Sketch's breath hitched. Morale could see him take a few deep breaths, steeling himself. "Duke isn't coming back."

Dead silence.

"You're lying," Pillow said, always the one to break the quiet. Morale could hear the desperation in his voice. "We-we pushed you too far somehow and now you're just trying to sc-scare are us." Morale didn't have to look at him to know denial was written all over his face.

Sketch abruptly looked up, eyes flashing. "Really Pillow? You think I would lie about our brother never coming back as a scare tactic? Thanks for showing me how you really feel."

"HE CAN'T BE GONE!" Pillow yelled, stumbling back to lean on the side of his pod. "He-he can't be. He's not allowed to leave us alone!" He rested his forehead in his hands, not looking at any of them.

Morale heard quiet sniffling coming from the pod farthest from him. He had thought it odd that he hadn't heard anything from Ghost.

He turned to Ghost and saw he once again had his face shoved into his knees and was slowly rocking back and forth. He cautiously walked over to his pod and climbed on. He gently touched his brother's shoulder.

Ghost looked up from his knees and the sight of his face finally caused the tears welling in Morale's eyes to fall. His eyes were wet and his cheeks had a rosy tint to them. He took quiet, gasping breaths.

"Why now?" Ghost breathed out, tears continuing to fall.

Morale closed his eyes, hating the wetness that gathered in their wake, and shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't." Ghost let out a sob and Morale's heart broke even more. "May I hu-hug you, Ghost? I think we both could use one right now."

Ghost frantically nodded and threw himself into Morale's arms, sobbing into his neck. Morale ran his hands through his brothers' hair, so similar to his own. He looked over Ghost's shoulder to see Sketch staring at them, barely holding it together. He nodded; a silent invitation.

Sketch quickly walked over and wrapped his arms around Ghost from behind, being able to reach to hold Morale as well. Morale felt a warmth against his back and knew it was Pillow, who was their own personal heater.

He felt tears on his head, and he was startled to realize this was the first time Pillow had ever cried; in front of him, at least. He felt lips moving against his hair and strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

"I'm sorry for calling you a failure. I just wanted to blame someone who wasn't me. I shouldn't blame you for them."

Morale nodded. "I know," he whispered back and he did know. He knew what Pillow was like. Despite that, he didn't think he'd ever forget his own brother calling him a failure.

Morale let out a sob at the thought of failure. Duke was a failure in the Kaminoans eyes. He knew how angry he was at the Kaminoans, but a part of his was angry at Duke. Why didn't he just listen to him, them, for once? He hadn't, and now he was never coming back, just like that brother had warned.

All four of them sank to their knees, arms tightening around each other. All mourned that they would never really be whole again, no matter what.

Morale mourned Duke, and quietly hated himself for putting them all in this position.

AO3: BlueHairedGrace1010

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