"Get down! Watch your left!"

"There's too many! Where are the reinforcements?!"

Blaster fire rains down on their heads like a storm. White bodies drop left and right, ripped apart by falling rocks, by debris, by volleys of grenades.

The heat burns him under his armor, drags sweat down his face and into his eyes. He can't see. He can't see. He can't see.

In front of him, he can make out the vague shape of another white set of armor, tries to wave to him. The other doesn't see or hear him, keeps running forward toward the line of droids.

"Quiver! Quiver, stop!" he screams-but his voice doesn't leave his helmet. Quiver still sprints, doesn't stop, even when the black, oblong shape of an explosive soaring through the air.

"Quiver-!"

It lands. He dies.

Bow wakes up, lets the cool air of the barracks flow through his nostrils. Even though he's still, his blood races, rushes through his heart and his ears so that all he hears is a dull roar. He notices he's sweating. He tries to think about something else, about anything but the heat and the sweat and the death that surrounded him.

Nothing. He can't be surprised at that.

It's upsetting because just the day before, he'd had ice cream with Bayut and his boyfriend, the first time he'd ever had a civilian snack. Yotai had insisted on trying to pay with his meager handful of credits, and Wiren had laughed. "Nah, it's fine, keep it," was all Wiren said.

He wants to feel as giddy as Yotai about ice cream, wants to be able to be excited about little things like sugary frozen dairy and cup noodles (which they got from a second stand about an hour later).

Bow's chest rises, falls with barely a change in shape. He lays like that for the next few minutes, lets the grey numbness settle in his organs like soot and replace the roaring and crashing.

"You up, Bow?" Yotai half-whispers one bunk away, leans out a little to be heard better. "I have plans for today."

Of course you do. Bow isn't upset, just...tired. Tired of being forcibly dragged out of the base-out of his bunk-tired that Yotai is trying so hard to get a smile out of him when it's clearly not working.

And of course, Yotai doesn't see this, instead chooses to hop out of his bunk and tiptoe over to Bow's. With little effort, he nudges Bow out of his bed, plops him down in front of his trunk and motions for him to armor up.

"You already look like you're getting better," Yotai says, pats Bow on the back. "There's a park nearby here that I think you'll like-you like birds, right?"

"Sometimes."

"You'll like these ones." And he dresses in silence, fills his tiny cloth wallet with spare change and waits impatiently for Bow to finish as well. He finally stands, places his helmet on his head. Wordlessly, he follows Yotai through the halls.

"I can already tell you're starting to feel better, Bow," Yotai speaks now to nearly no one-Bow only barely pays attention, prefers to let the dull noises of helmet systems click in his ears. "I knew you just needed to get out for a bit instead of staying in here, holed up and everything."

"Hm."

Yotai stops, turns and looks Bow in the eye. "Hey," he says, voice much gentler now, "we're getting you through this, alright? That stuff Cord gave you helped, and going out with that guy and his boyfriend-"

"Bayut and Wiren."

"Yeah yeah, them." Yotai smiles, pats Bow's shoulder. "And when we went out with them, you actually smiled, Bow."

Had he? Bow can't remember. He knows he'd been much more "positive" feeling. It's too strong a word, but it's close; he hasn't felt heavy or as numb as he usually has. He'd never thought Yotai would actually notice.

Yotai tugs on Bow's arm lightly, pulls him along down another hallway. He makes light talk now, speaks to no one in particular and perhaps maybe himself. "How does Twi'lek culture work for last names? Like, when someone gets married, do they hyphenate, choose one, or come up with a new name altogether?"

"...What?"

"Bayut and Wiren are gonna get married," Yotai declares.

"Says who?" Mildly interested now, Bow picks up his speed to keep in line with Yotai. "They're not getting married." He would remember if something like that were mentioned.

"I just know it."

Bow scoffs. "That's not proof, Yoyo," he says, slips and uses his old pet name for Yotai. Bow can feel the pause in Yotai's whole body-his steps, his breathing-and almost gives pause himself. Where had that come from?

There's a new softness in Yotai's voice when he speaks. "You saw how they acted with each other-Bayut's eyes would light up every time Wiren spoke, and Wiren couldn't stop touching Bayut." An almost wistful sigh. "They were all over each other but obviously trying to hold back, I guess cause they don't know us that well."

He thinks back to the night before, remembers that Wiren was getting more and more teasing and Bayut slowly grew to smiling. There had even been times where neither of the men remembered Bow and Yotai were there. Bow would like a partner like that-male female, whatever. It doesn't matter to him. He'd love to have someone he couldn't stop being near, someone who would make him feel needed and wanted.

He's a clone; he's not supposed to even wish for things like that.

Bow's relationship with Quiver had been something like that. They were tua'ir, brothers who were bonded through their souls. They were closer than brothers because they could feel each other's emotions, hear one another's thoughts without even having to say something. All clones are brothers and therefore close, but not all are as close as tua'irs.

They had been close, and then Quiver died. Now, part of Bow's soul wanders with Quiver in the afterlife, waits for his brother to join him. And Quiver's soul is attached Bow's, haunting him til his death.

It's what happens when you mourn a brother's death too much. They don't leave you properly, hang onto your soul and slowly take the life out of you.

They're at the doors. The guard stationed there lets them pass, and Yotai again takes Bow's hand and leads him through the streets of Coruscant. "There's a nice bar we're gonna go to, and it's clone friendly, even."

Bow frankly doesn't care. He's not big on alcohol, doesn't really like the taste or smell or burning in his throat, but Yotai is too excited to remember.

He keeps saying that he'll get better. Bow knows he won't.

OoOoOoO

The bartender is Ithorian. She doesn't say anything, nods and continues wiping down the bar.

Bow sits down, Yotai gets their drinks. Soft yet heavy music plays over the speakers, fills Bow's fingertips with a jittery, tingly feeling. Yotai comes back and he sees that they're not starting with anything light; their midday drinking begins with shots.

"Just to loosen you up," Yotai says.

OoOoOoO

Life isn't worth living, Bow decides. Or maybe it is. Maybe he's had too many drinks.

No, it's not. Normal people don't feel dead brothers pulling them to the afterlife. Normal people want to breathe, want to eat, want to take care of themselves. Normal people aren't clones whose souls are leaving them.

Yotai is rambling, always does when he gets this drunk. He snorts and laughs too hard at a joke he's told no one.

Yotai's life is worth something-would be worth more if he didn't have the burden of a living-dead brother on his shoulders.

Bow tunes out his rambling, fingers the blaster by his thigh. "I have to use the fresher."

He wouldn't be a walking set of armor anymore. His soul could go join Quiver's, and Yotai would be free.

Yotai lets him go.

The bartender simply watches.

OoOoOoO

Even through his drunk haze, Yotai knows something is wrong; his gut turns without warning, prompt his eyes to look up to the seat where Bow sits.

Had sat. It's empty.

His mind turns slowly at first, then more quickly as panic sets in and Yotai shoots to his feet. The chair clatters to the ground loudly but he doesn't care. "Bow!" he yells, half-slurs. "B-Bow, where…" He's unsteady, almost topples over. Patrons look over at him, watch the drunk clone stumble into the fresher.

It's brighter in there than it is in the main room. Yotai rubs his eyes, stumbles to the first stall and bangs the door open. Empty.

"Bow!" Where is he? Where is he? The dread grows, the sickness grows, the panic grows.

Second, third, and fourth stalls are all empty. The door to the fresher opens; other bar patrons and the bartender hover near the door, ready for drama or an emergency.

"Bow! Bow!" The fifth stall door won't open. White booted feet turn towards the door for a second, but go back to facing the toilet.

No matter how hard he slams his fists against the door, it won't open. Yotai kicks the door, is about to crawl under or over when he hears the familiar click of a blaster's safety turning off.

"Don't-"

The singular blue laser rips through the top of the stall, crashes into the ceiling and knocks a tile down. Bow's body collapses and thuds against the wall.

Yotai doesn't think, doesn't breathe. He stops feeling.

Next chapter should be a doozy.