Welcome to another submission for our whump-centric Discord!. The work is complete and I'll be posting a new chapter every few days! The title is from Sleeping at Last's "Two", in reference to the type two enneagram, who is a person that is a helper but also tends to be self-sacrificial.

Here is my contribution to the wonderful group of guys known as the Coruscant Guard. Fic has made me love them even more than I did before, so it was fun to finally get to write something about them. Unfortunately, Fox is not having as much fun as I did...I decided to expand on the Senate bombings arc a bit, so don't look at the canon timeline too closely, there wouldn't have been enough time for suitable angst had I totally stuck to it. A few Mando'a words may pop up for the fun of it, but hopefully they'll all be understandable in-context. In case they aren't, I'll put the definitions in the end notes of each chapter.

Don't own anything. Thank you for reading!

The Chancellor's office was Fox's second-most detested place in the entire galaxy, beaten only by Kamino. The blood-red walls and carpet perfectly matched the paint adorning the Coruscant Guard. He had never felt at ease in the room, no matter how mundane the meeting or who else had accompanied him.

The unease and discomfort was compounded by the fact that the office was never nearly warm enough. It was honestly strange, considering the top-of-the-line environmental controls in the room. That, and Palpatine's home planet of Naboo was known as one of the most warm and gorgeous planets in the Mid-Rim—Commander Stone took great care to remind them of that whenever he returned from an escort mission there—which made the chill in the air feel that much more out of place.

Even through his plastoid armor and black body glove, Fox never felt warm in the office. He certainly didn't feel warm after waiting for nearly an hour for the Chancellor to show up to their urgent scheduled meeting about the Senate bombings the previous night.

Palpatine had demanded Fox's presence to give him a rundown of the current situation, and Fox had dropped everything to make it to Palpatine's office in record time, only for the Chancellor to not be found. But Fox knew better than to leave and come back. The Red Guard that stood silent in the room would be sure to fill Palpatine in should Fox's attendance be lacking.

Never mind that Thorn and Thire were basically cleaning up the bombing mess by themselves while Fox stood in the cold, silent office. He tried to not think about the destruction that was waiting for him, or how their Chief Medical Officer, Maddox, and his team were having trouble triaging all the injured clones and civilians, or how the Coruscant Security Force was as usual almost no help because, after all, this had been a Senate bombing and outside of their jurisdiction, or how—

How the whole thing was Fox's fault.

If he just hadn't let those cleaning droids in, they could've avoided the whole thing.

But he had. And here they were.

So far there was a tally of 27 dead clones that the news wouldn't be discussing. Civilian losses were in the thirties, with dozens more injured.

Fox couldn't remember the last time he slept.

It was tempting to close his eyes for a few moments; with his helmet on no one would be able to tell anyways. But he clenched his hands behind him periodically to keep himself alert and in perfect parade rest. He couldn't slack off in front of the Chancellor. Not now.

He kept running through a mental list of all that he had to accomplish and who he needed to talk to and how soon to make sure it all got done. His heart rate increased with each item.

Finally, the doors to the Chancellor's office slid open and Palpatine walked in, hardly taking notice of Fox in the middle of the room. He made it across the room and stood behind his desk before he looked Fox in the eye.

"Commander, I'm glad you could make it. I take it you have the debrief I requested?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," Fox said with a nod. "We have confirmed that the attack was Separatist-instigated. They used modified cleaning droids to bypass security and enter the main power generator, where they detonated, causing the loss of power to the Senate and several smaller, subsequent explosions in the vicinity. Casualties are still coming in, and field hospitals have been set up to assist with the triage."

Palpatine sat down in his chair and folded his arms on the desk in front of him. "Many in the Senate are quite shaken by the attack, I am quite afraid. What would you recommend we do to prevent future attacks of this nature?"

He seemed genuinely interested, but Fox could tell that he was just waiting for Fox to slip up. He'd seen behind Palpatine's mask on occasion, and it was not an experience he was keen to repeat. "I have informed Commanders Thorn and Stone and Lieutenant Thire of droid policy changes, namely authenticated passes and communicating with the transport vessel should the droids be coming from off-world."

There wasn't much they could do, really, but Fox had to come up with something.

Palpatine nodded slowly. "And what was the reason these checks were not performed to begin with?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. "Oversight, sir."

"A simple human error, really." Palpatine smiled a little at him, the kind of thing that a passerby would find kind and reassuring.

Fox knew the opposite. It was a smile of victory. He'd caught Fox in his trap. He didn't bother responding, as there was no way to defend himself.

"Of course, you are not precisely human, are you, CC-1010? Perhaps that is where the error lies, in giving non-sentient beings control of our security." Palpatine frowned and shook his head, as if disappointed. "You and your fellow clones are property, made to do as ordered. You are Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard, are you not?"

Fox swallowed and hoped the sound wasn't picked up by his helmet. "I am, sir."

Palpatine leaned forwards in his chair. "Then I suggest you learn your duty, Commander. I'd hate to see you incapacitated because of a simple oversight. Though I suppose that Commanders Thorn or Stone could always be made to take your place."

Fox grit his teeth. That would never happen, not as long as he was around. Palpatine was his to deal with. He couldn't protect them from much, especially with their status as Commanders, but he could protect them from this. He breathed out slowly, willing his anger and fear to dissipate.

"Do I make myself clear, CC-1010?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," Fox affirmed with a stiff nod.

Palpatine smiled again. "Good, good." He made a small waving gesture with his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Fox noticed the Red Guards come to flank him on either side. "Unfortunately, as Marshal Commander, you do bear full responsibility for recent events. And as such, more training would be wise to ensure that such mistakes do not occur again. Would you agree?"

Fox knew exactly what kind of training the Chancellor had in mind. It was the kind that ended with him in a bloody heap on the floor. But as long as it was him and not one of his men…He gave another tight nod.

"Now, Commander, I understand you have been under a great deal of stress from recent events. In light of that, it would be perfectly understandable for there to be lapses in your concentration or memory. Nothing to be concerned about."

The chill began to seep into his suit. If he were to pull off his helmet, Fox wouldn't have been surprised to see his breath fogging in front of his face.

He was still mulling over the Chancellor's words when the first Red Guard struck out with his staff. Fox reacted instantaneously to block, but the cold seemed to slow his movements. It settled between his joints and made them lag behind the signals his brain was sending. While he was able to block the first attack, he had no chance of fully preventing the second one from behind him.

The sharp staff sliced through his arm. With a break in the skin, the cold seemed to rush in. It crawled up his veins, settled behind his eyes, and made avoiding the next few attacks practically impossible.

Fox came to with a sudden jolt, as if someone had dunked him in a bath of ice water. At his sudden movement, items clattered behind him, which did nothing to help his hammering heart. It was pitch dark and he fumbled for a moment before he turned on his visor light. Fox then let out an annoyed sigh when he found said items to only be various bottles of cleaning supplies.

He was in a supply closet. How professional. Fox took a quick stock of himself before he dared to move further.

His head hurt, which wasn't unexpected. He rotated his arms and winced as dried blood pulled against his blacks and cuts on his arms made themselves known. As he looked down, his visor light showed several gashes between the plates of his rerebrace and shoulder bell on his left side and on either side of his elbow plate on his right side. The injuries thankfully weren't still weeping blood, but moving the appendages was still painful. Probably not the reason he fell unconscious, then. But that was a mystery for later.

He checked his locator and found himself to be in one of the outermost sections of the Coruscant Guard compound.

The relief he felt at knowing where he was was quickly overwhelmed by the fact that he had no clue how he got there. He remembered a meeting with the Chancellor to go over the bombing findings, feeling cold, and then…nothing.

Fox wracked his brain so hard it hurt. But he still couldn't come up with anything. This couldn't be happening, not again. He couldn't be cracking under the pressure, he was fine, he had to be fine, his men were counting on him to be fine.

Fox took a few deep breaths in and out, trying to be undeterred by the way his lungs didn't seem to want to expand all the way and his ribs ached with the movement. He had a job to do. The confusion and worry could wait until he was done—who was he kidding, he'd never be done, he'd just keep jamming it further and further into that box until it started seeping out through the cracks, but that was future Fox's problem if he lived long enough to see it to fruition and right now Fox had a lot more to worry about than worrying about the future and—

He forced another deep breath in and coughed it out.

Right.

Fox looked at his chrono and internally cursed himself. His meeting with the Chancellor was three standard hours ago. Was this enough rest to count for a sleep cycle? He'd say yes and just conveniently forget to mention it to Maddox if he asked. His time unconscious would certainly account for the number of unanswered comms he had waiting for him.

The ones from the Guard were expected, asking how the meeting had gone, wondering about next steps for one of the triage centers, requesting additional supplies.

There was one slightly concerning message from Thorn, sent over two hours ago: Lever saw you on your way out of the Chancellor's office. Said you looked unsteady. Check in before you head back out on rotation? Just humor me, alright?

Fox didn't remember running into Lever at all. He could only hope that he had only informed Thorn of Fox's state and no one else.

Then there was one unexpected message from none other than Cody: 212th is inbound for shore leave on Triple Zero in a few days. Should you and your men need a hand, the boys and I would be available to lend it.

Fox considered it for a full half-second. Having more boots on the ground would mean that injuries could be treated faster, debris could be cleaned, and things could get back to normal at a rate the senators would be demanding.

But Fox couldn't have Cody and his men dragged into this mess, Fox's mess. The Guard knew how to deal with the senators and the CSF in ways that the frontline troops would never be able to manage without significant upset. It would be better for everyone if they steered clear of the impacted zones.

You can help by keeping them clear of the cordoned-off areas and warn them against overindulging at 79's just this once. We've got the rest handled, Fox sent back, professional as ever. He was tempted to answer Thorn as well to give him the peace of mind Fox knew he needed and deserved, but the light from his comm was making his eyes ache.

Fox rolled his neck slowly, took a breath, and stood up. He was promptly forced to grab onto a shelf to avoid ending up right back on the floor as it spun around him, his equilibrium totally off. His whole body felt fuzzy and his arms burned with the effort of keeping him upright.

He just needed to get back to the Commanders' quarters. Then he could patch himself up, get a cup of caf, and head to where he was needed most. He was fine. He'd walked further on Coruscant with worse injuries before.

After a few more breaths, the dizziness had abated some. Fox squared his shoulders, turned off his visor light, and opened the door to the supply closet, hoping that no one caught his rushed exit.

The walk back to his quarters did manage to clear his head a little, which was a relief. He was overreacting, that was all. Maddox would probably spout some lines about 'cumulative stress' and 'not enough rest' as he was fond of doing. Fox knew he had good intentions, but he had also heard all the advice before.

There was simply no advice that could permanently fix the cesspool that was Coruscant. There was only management and white-knuckling it until it either miraculously fixed itself or the war ended. Neither option looked promising.

He made it to his quarters without incident. With Stone off-world and Thorn and Thire out in the field, Fox had a few moments to himself to assess his injuries. He wiped the plastoid armor down—Corrie red paint was good for a great many things, and hiding blood could be both a blessing and a curse—and grabbed a new set of blacks.

The cuts didn't need Maddox's attention. He and the other medics were up to their elbows in serious cases. This wasn't anything that Fox hadn't patched up himself before. They didn't even seem deep enough to warrant stitches. He made a note of some faint red lines that seemed to be emanating from one of the cuts and traveling up his arm, but didn't worry about it further. He simply cleaned them up, foregoing the bacta to save for emergencies, and bandaged them as best he could.

With his armor back on, the only noticeable difference was a slight stiffness in his right elbow. His fellow Guard would surely notice, but it would be easy enough to explain away.

He checked his comm one final time. Cody had replied with a curt, Will do. With that problem settled, and Fox most surely not regretting it for a single instant, especially given Cody's past offers to help or simply catch up any time he was on-planet, he left the quarters.

And promptly took a step back as Thorn came in. Judging by his hurried step back too, Thorn hadn't been expecting to see him.

"Fox!" With just that one word, Fox's observation was proved true. Thorn pulled off his helmet so Fox could see his frown. "Did you check your comm?"

Fox nodded. "Didn't mean to worry you. I crashed right after the meeting." It wasn't technically a lie, but it still made something uneasy sit in his chest. Fox couldn't have them worrying about him though, not with everything else they had on their plates.

Thorn's frown abated just a little, replaced by a crease of worry. He searched Fox's face for any sign of the half-truth. "Glad to see you finally took some of our advice," he finally said. Any annoyance he seemed to have held slipped away at the idea that Fox had stolen just a few hours for himself.

The weight in his chest grew heavier.

"How are things looking out there?" Fox asked, diverting the conversation back to more pressing matters.

"Grizzer, Hound, and the rest of the ARFs are searching the rubble for survivors. Maddox and his team and the natborn medics have the triage areas pretty well under control. Maddox just moved back into our medical facility, actually, with the more serious Guard cases. You see the supply request?"

Fox nodded and opened it up on the datapad on his desk. All it took was a quick signature to get the wheels rolling. "Level of unrest?"

Thorn thought for a moment. "Not bad. Then again, mostly the upper levels were hit, so they're more focused on pulling together and helping out than moving stolen goods to a less fiery location. Some minor looting, but it's under control."

Good. That was all very good. He felt a flash of pride for his men in the Guard, pulling together when they needed to most. He had never expected or hoped for anything less. Before he could open his mouth to ask anything else, Thorn beat him to it.

"How was your meeting with the Chancellor?"

Cold.

Yes, how was the meeting he didn't quite remember?

"I updated him on the situation and assured him that more precautions were in place to prevent such an attack from happening again," he said, almost automatically slipping back into Senate-speak.

"Uh-huh," Thorn said slowly. He made a face like he knew exactly what Fox was doing, and knew that Fox would be able to read that exact sentiment on his features. "But how did it go?"

"Fine," Fox assured. Thorn and the other members of the Guard shouldn't have to worry about fallout from this. This was Fox's burden to bear.

Thorn raised an eyebrow "Just fine?"

"Yes, Thorn, fine. I gave him the update, told him I'd do better, and that was it."

There was a pause. "You mean we, right?" Thorn's scrutiny seemed to bore through Fox's eyes. He almost wished for the cover of his helmet, which was still hanging uselessly in his hand. "You do know this isn't all on you?"

Fox clenched his jaw. "I'm the one that let the droids through," he said, a simple statement of fact.

"Trig and Sixer were right there with you, Fox. There was no way you could've known."

Fox watched as the scrutiny melted into pleading. Thorn needed him to see that it wasn't his fault, but that would never be the case. "I'm the Marshal Commander. It was my call."

"That's a load of osik," Thorn shot back. "None of us blame you."

I blame me.

The thought flitted around Fox's pounding head. It wouldn't be banished anytime soon.

"None of this changes anything," Fox said. Without waiting for Thorn's reply, he slid his helmet back on. The sound of the seals clicking in place and the bucket pressurizing didn't help his growing headache. "What quadrant is still in the worst shape?"

Thorn didn't answer him immediately. His eyes roved over Fox, stopping minutely at his injured elbow, before making their way back up to his masked face. He sighed. "Quadrant B-5."

Fox nodded and took a step forward, intending on going right out the door and back into the fray. Thorn's hand on his shoulder was the only thing that stopped him.

"Get some actual rest in a few hours, alright?" he asked. "Think of it as giving Maddox a break, not having to tie you to one of the beds in the medbay."

A ghost of a smile found its way to Fox's face that that. Maddox had threatened on numerous occasions to resort to those exact measures and Fox didn't doubt that if the time came, he would have no trouble following through on them. Good thing he wouldn't need to, because Fox had it handled.

"Never anger the medics," Fox said, parroting one of the most common phrases anywhere in the GAR.

Thorn held his gaze through the helmet for a moment longer before he clapped Fox lightly on the shoulder and continued into the room, leaving Fox to enter the hallway alone.

Osik: dung (impolite)

This is my first time writing about the Corries, so if anyone has any thoughts, I would love to hear them!

Thank you all for reading! Next chapter will be up in a few days, because Fox can't get off *that* easy, now can he? This man deserves a break but unfortunately I am not the one to give it to him.