Welcome back! Commander Fox's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day gets worse.
It wasn't a long walk to Quadrant B-5. Fox could've taken a speeder, but there was really no need, and he didn't want to take resources away should someone at the Guard HQ need to get to one of the further locations in a pinch. So, Fox kept attention on his peripheral while also scrolling through his comms as he made the trip, ensuring that all the questions various members of the Guard had sent in over the last few hours had been answered. He reaffirmed to Thire that he was in fact fine and checked that Stone's escort mission was still proceeding on schedule. By the time he made it to the still-smoking site, the number of notifications had dropped to one—from Cody, which he was saving to look at later when he had the mental space to deal with it—and things were as under control as they could be.
His arm ached when he lowered his vambrace and he rolled both his shoulders in an attempt to ease the discomfort. It didn't work, but there was no time to worry about it now.
He made his way to the mobile aid station set up near the initial blast site and got the sit rep from the staff on duty. A few volunteer natborn medics meshed with the Guard staff and were successfully dealing with cases as they came in. Everyone was triaged, treated as best as the staff were able, and sent forward. Injured Guard members were sent to their own medbay, other clones to the GAR hub, and stable civilians transported to other hospitals for further treatment.
Confident they had it under control, Fox then checked in with Hound, the massiffs, and the rest of the recovery team. Hound said it was good to see him—confirming Fox's suspicion that Thorn had not in fact kept Lever's report to himself—and that they were making good progress. Fox filed away preliminary reports and made notes of damages and further buildings that would require investigation before being deemed fit for reentry. Just the thought of all the flimsiwork that was going to pile up on his desk in the coming days was enough to make his head spin.
The hours passed slowly despite all the work, and were made to feel even slower by the constant burning sensation that was steadily making its way up both his arms. His hands felt like they were made of static, the kind of sensation he usually only associated with the aftermath of being electroshocked.
Fox took a moment to clench his hands and stared at the mess in front of him. The sun was just beginning to rise and plumes of smoke made their way into the air from multiple points in the city, obscuring the temporarily golden sky. At least the fire brigades had done their jobs and controlled the blazes before they had gotten out of control.
A shout went up off to his right and Fox turned—a little too fast, judging by the way his brain seemed to need to catch up to his body—to see Grizzer pawing underneath a chunk of fallen duracrete. Fox jogged over, again, a mistake, but he was there and capable of helping, and he wouldn't let anyone see him doing anything else. It wasn't unheard of to still find people after a day of being trapped, after all.
"There's someone under there," Hound informed him, confirming Fox's suspicions. Hound then bent down and scratched Grazer's head. "Good work," he praised.
Once the alarm had been raised, every able-bodied person in the vicinity clustered around the fallen slab. They worked to remove the rest of the debris from around the chunk before all grabbing a section and pushing it upright; there was no time to wait for an excavator droid.
Fox, along with Hound and the rest of their brothers, were able to raise it just enough so that the person trapped in a hole below the debris could be pulled to safety.
It was agonizing. If Fox thought there was fire in his veins before, that was nothing compared to the blaze that had been ignited once he had pushed his muscles to their limit. Even after they collectively lowered the slab back to the ground and Fox shook out his arms, the feeling didn't stop. It had clawed its way into his shoulders and was beginning to spread towards his chest, tendrils of flame licking their way between his ribs.
Hound snapped his fingers in front of his face, causing Fox to jolt. "What?" Even with his bucket on, Fox could tell that Hound was staring at him.
"I said, your hands alright?" Hound gestured minutely to Fox's hands, which he had continued stretching and clenching at his sides. He immediately stopped, which only made the static sensation worse.
"Fine," Fox brushed off.
"You should spend your free time working on your grip strength," Hound said. It took Fox three seconds too long to realize he was joking.
"What free time?"
"Ah, there he is!" Fox could hear the smile in Hound's voice. "C'mon, Grizzer's due for her break. I could use an extra set of eyes to make sure no one gets too close, she's still hopped up from all the excitement."
Fox should probably say no. There were still things to do at the site, and he needed to check in with the other locations too.
"The boys have it handled," Hound said, reading his mind.
Fox's chest clenched, and not from the worry of leaving his men unattended. "Alright," he relented after deciding that a short answer would be best. He could debrief Hound back at headquarters too, have some firsthand reports to give to the Chancellor when he would inevitably ask for another update in a few hours.
Fox wasn't sure how he'd be ready for that next meeting. But he would have to be.
"I'm glad at least someone gets a break around here," Hound said as he scratched Grizzer's head again before beginning to lead them back to the Guard complex. He wasn't wrong. The animals tended to get breaks and working hours, while many troopers in the Guard frequently pulled double—or in the Commanders' cases, triple—shifts to ensure that all areas were sufficiently staffed at any point in time.
It was a cruel fact that Fox didn't like to look at face-value too often. Right now was definitely not the right time.
Hound's voice continued and it was only when Fox tuned back in that he realized they'd already walked a whole quadrant over. "I mean, where else am I supposed to get them now?" Hound turned towards Fox, clearly expecting an answer.
Fox had no clue what he was talking about and his brain was too foggy to pull up any answers. His kit was beginning to feel hot and confining enough without the added pressure of keeping up a conversation. "Sorry, what?"
Hound lightly jostled Grizzer's leash. "Her favorite treats now that the only shop I could find them at closed down."
Oh. It was such a mundane worry. Not that it didn't matter, because it did, very much. Fox was just grateful that for a moment, one of Hound's main worries was finding treats for his companion and not life and death or the current state of Coruscant and the politics therein.
Fox focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He could see the silhouette of the Guard's building between the skyscrapers. "I'm sure Thire could help you find some replacements," he said after a pause that had definitely gone on too long. Grizzer sniffed at his clenched hand and let out a low whine.
Hound looked between Fox and Grizzer. "I'll let him know," he replied after a similarly long pause. "You know how much he loves babysitting her, anyways."
Fox could barely manage to nod. Thire, with a love for animals that could almost rival Hound's. The two of them made a good team. Good soldiers, and more than that, they still carried some of the light that Coruscant worked very, very hard to snuff out. Fox hoped this war would end before it was gone entirely, replaced with a grim seriousness that had taken root in so many brothers in the Guard.
A grim seriousness that he had helped seed in an attempt to keep them safe.
When he pulled his head out of his musings, Fox began to realize that their pace had slowed considerably. Hound was keeping up with him and based on his helmet's movements, he was probably speaking to someone on his internal comm. Maybe one of the other handlers or someone at the bomb site.
They really needed to get to the Guard building. They turned a corner and finally Fox could see it, the only place on the whole planet that signified some modicum of safety for them. He picked up the pace just a little, eager to get on with it. His muscles burned and his heart, already speeding, began to pound.
Almost there.
"Fox?" Hound asked, still beside him, his attention wholly focused on his Commander even as they entered the building.
As soon as the doors sealed shut behind him, Fox paused for a moment and simply tried to breathe. His ribs were pulled too tight against his lungs. He hesitated for just a moment, grateful it was only Hound with him, before he braced an arm against the wall. Putting any weight on it hurt something awful, but it was better than collapsing in a heap on the floor.
"Fox?" Hound was instantly there, hands hovering just over Fox's arms. Grizzer sat obediently next to him and looked up at Fox.
There no hiding it now. Fox cursed himself. "Just dizzy," Fox said. But no amount of breathing through his tightening lungs alleviated the pain. If anything, it was getting worse. He couldn't get a full breath in. Panic would do him no good. Not here, not now, not when there was so much left to be doing, and not while any of his men were watching. But he couldn't breathe.
Hound, probably noticing his spasming shoulders, dropped Grazer's leash and reached with both hands towards Fox's helmet. He gave Fox just a second to pull away, a warning, before he took it off.
The cool air on Fox's face helped for a moment, but it didn't fix the problem. He had no idea what the problem even was.
"Hey, hey," Hound said calmly and got into Fox's line of sight. "Fox? What can I do? The medics are already en route."
So that was who he had been comming on their way over. Fox should've known. And now they were coming and they were going to be worried when they had so much else they already had to be worried about.
Because of him. All of it.
"Come on, you know that isn't true," he heard Hound say quietly in response to something that should've been in his head.
His arm against the wall buckled and it was Hound's hands on his elbows that prevented him from falling directly to the ground. Where he held Fox created pressure against his bandaged cuts and he stiffened in pain.
"Alright, down we go," Hound said, keeping that same calm cadence he usually reserved for the wounded animals they were sometimes sent to rescue. He levered Fox's weight until he was sitting on the floor, elbows on his knees, back pressed up against the wall.
Sitting was much better. His head didn't hurt nearly as much from down on the ground. He vaguely registered the sounds of hurriedly approaching boots.
"Kriff, Fox," Hound cursed from where he now knelt in front of him. He was staring at something on his gloves. Fox squinted and looked at them too and found that the tips were almost shiny under the harsh white light. His bandages were bleeding through. That probably wasn't good. He'd have to add that to the list. Fox lightly thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
"Fine," he whispered.
There was no response from Hound, at least not to him anyways, but he could hear Hound talking to the medics. When had he taken his own helmet off?
"I noticed as soon as he walked up. Didn't look steady, like Lever said. Got him to detour back to HQ after a bit, but it's getting worse." He paused, like someone had asked him a question. "A few hours ago. I know. I know. But you know how he is."
He started listing Fox's symptoms, and when he put it like that, it sounded like more of a problem.
"Keep breathing, there you go," Hound said, directed at Fox. Fox could hear the worry creeping into his words, worry that he had put there. Hound laid a hand gently on Fox's shoulder.
Fox coughed, trying to clear some space in his lungs, but there was nothing to clear.
"You know, I've never met a massiff as picky as Grizzer?" Hound's hand tightened. "I know, you say I spoil her, but when the girl really only wants one kind of food and one kind of treat, who am I to keep it from her? I mean, her eyes are cute enough, but also, who wants an angry massiff on their hands? I certainly don't. She needs to save the attitude for work."
Fox latched onto Hound's voice, dimly aware that the medics were moving him to a stretcher. Every shift hurt, but then he was steadied and they were off, Hound's hand never leaving Fox's shoulder, and Grizzer trotting along out of the corner of his eyes.