A/N: And here you are, Rubblestrength. For youuuuu, which reminds me of a quote that I can't place... as always... moving right along.
His fingers slipped. He was falling, gravity holding his body; holding him too tightly. Crushing him. There was only darkness, he saw nothing. No, he saw flashes of what could have been. What should have been. But still he fell, and nothing could change that. He was born to be killed, and he had known that all his life. But no one can be fully prepared for their death.
Still, perhaps he was more prepared than most.
He knew he needed to breathe, but he couldn't even gasp in a breath. He was still falling, head over heels, still his hands sought for something to slow his fall. He knew it would dislocate his arms if he found a ledge by this point, but he was a survivor. He knew how to give up something to save something else. He knew how to decide what mattered more out of two things he cared for.
He was a decision maker. He didn't think on his feet quite like Rex; he wasn't as medically gifted as Kix, he couldn't make a joke to calm the nerves of his men like Fives, or perhaps Hardcase. For being clones, they always rendered unique talents.
And he could make the choices. He could take the responsibility for the actions of himself, and for 7th Sky corps. And he was good at it. He was good at his job.
He was good at his job.
I was good at my job.
It repeated in his head as he fell. How long would he be forced to continue tumbling down? When would it come to an end? The air rushed past him, watching him pass by as gravity carried him to the end. Wherever the end might be.
Cody's heartbeat pounded in his head, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He still couldn't breathe. His lungs felt… pressed down. Squeezed. Shut. Closed. Maybe gone entirely. Something slammed against his back – he couldn't even make a sound. Pain sent shocks up his spine. He was sliding now, no longer falling. He could see a black form even in the dark, grey Hades, and it was looming before him. He'd flatten against it.
I did my job.
His stomach twisted. His armor-boots scrabbled against the metal beneath him, trying to slow his decent. Quaking hands grasped at the smooth surface. The scrapping sounds were horrible, like a grinding monster from a child's nightmares.
I did my job.
He couldn't close his eyes. He watched as his death drew nearer, and nearer. A piece of his armor hooked on a sharp edge, pulling him to a jarring halt, one from which he soon started sliding again. That hurt, he mused, his thoughts numbed. But it had slowed his fall to some degree.
Maybe he wouldn't die, perhaps he would only break his legs. Was that better, or worse? It could give the Generals time to find him. How many of the clones had fallen? What if the Jedi had fallen as well? No, he had a gut feeling that they hadn't. But he also had a feeling that some of his men had fallen. Had any of them survived? There must have been a few. Probability.
He scowled. This was going to hurt.
Another piece of hardened, formerly melted metal snagged at his armor. It slowed him even more. Maybe he wouldn't break his legs after all.
I did. My job.
Cody finally closed amber-brown eyes. With what felt like the force of being rammed by a gunship, he hit the iron peek. Agony burned up his legs, but he didn't hear any bones crack. Instinctively he reached forward, scrambling for a hold on the new… wall of sorts.
He could breathe. As soon as air filled his sore lungs again, he let out a tortured scream. It echoed back to him – taunting, mocking, jeering. He couldn't fall again. He couldn't see. It was too dark – he was already losing his grip on the steel peek that he had slammed against.
He fell. Again.
Swept away like a leaf blown from a roof top. So simple, so easy. But this time, something scratched his arms. It was sharp, and relentless, like steel nails clawing through the armor, plucking the pieces off of his arms and stabbing through black fatigues. The pain caused pressure in his chest, like a squeezing hand around his heart.
He landed again – harder than the first time, and on a semi-flat surface. He wanted to scream again. But all that came past his lips was a groan. His head hurt – it was pounding, thundering, and aching. His arms both throbbed, and felt unnervingly numb. His legs. He wouldn't get into that. He couldn't force himself to move. He could barely catch his breath.
His lips moved back over his teeth, as if in a snarl. He tried to get his arms beneath him, and they shook madly, refusing to lift his chest from the ground. His eyes stayed tightly shut. He managed a moan, and coughing, but even his voice betrayed him.
He would pull it together. Maybe his wrist comm still worked. If he could move. If he could… No, it was hard to stay awake. It was hard to focus. But he was trained for this, and every situation like it.
"You will be fun, Child, yes…"
Cold shock ran up and down his arms. His body refused to repress a shiver. Had he hit his head? "Hearing things," he muttered, his voice a whisper. He didn't have his blaster. His must have dropped it during the fall. What if there was something down here with him?
"Rest, rest rest, sleep."
He shook his head. He really was hearing things. The whispers echoed, bouncing through the darkness. He tried to lift himself from the floor again. His arms trembled, depositing him back down face-first.
It hurt too much.
He had to stay conscious, that's what Kix would say.
I did my job. They know I always did my job…