A/N: I'm putting this warning up front and center: there is implied self-harm in this part. There isn't actually self-harm though. Wolffe jumps to the wrong conclusion. There is actual (past) torture however. I repeat: the self-harm is fake, the torture is real. Stay safe, dears.

Written for prompt no. 15: "I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself."

Makeshift bandages Suppressed suffering "I'm fine."

Fox is used to waking up cold. There's a particular kind of chill in the CG headquarters that seeps through armour and blacks to settle deep in his bones.

He feels the usual cold creep from the wall behind him and nestles closer to the warm weight on the other side of his bunk. Wait - warm?

Something - or someone - growls and pushes him back.

"You're going to push me off the bed you di'kut," Wolffe mumbles.

Fox wakes up fully. He sits upright.

"Wolffe? What the - what are you doing here?"

His brother blinks at him.

"Can't you remember all the way back to yesterday?"

Fox frowns. Yesterday? Yesterday was real? Well, given the fact that Wolffe is here, he's going to guess that yes, it had been real.

However, now that Fox has actually slept and isn't trying to function on caf and stubbornness, he has enough brain power to realise how truly strange it is for Wolffe to be here. None of his batchmates had contacted him in months. Not since Fox had - had shot the ARC trooper and gotten himself ostracised from the rest of the vode.

Fox opens his mouth to ask Wolffe that, but before he can his brother's eyes widen.

"Kriff, Fox! Is that blood?"

Fox glances down to see what Wolffe is staring at and - oh. This is bad. He wants to say something to turn Wolffe's attention away, but he can't think of anything.

The blood from the wounds on his arms is almost invisible against his blacks. Against the grey sheets it stands out like an accusation.

"Are you hurt?"

Wolffe doesn't bother waiting for Fox to reply, checking his head and neck for injuries. Fox flinches involuntarily when Wolffe hands brush against his arms. Before he can stop him, Wolffe has pushed up the sleeves of his blacks, revealing the weeping red wounds along with the mess of straight-lined scars that covers Fox's arms.

Wolffe's face is ashen.

"What the kriff, Fox?" he breathes.

Fox tries to pull his arms out of Wolffe's grip.

"It's - it's not -"

Wolffe holds on to him.

"We're going to the medbay. Right now."

Wolffe practically drags him all the way to the medbay, ignoring Fox's protests completely.

The Corrie CMO - Wolffe thinks his name is Cobalt - hurries over when he sees them. He takes one look at the wounds on Fox's arms and swears. He motions for Fox to sit down on one of the empty cots and moves the partitions around it to give some privacy.

"Does anyone know where Stitch is?" he calls.

Wolffe frowns at the odd phrasing until he sees a medic approach them. He has a scar that stretches from his temple to his chin, tattooed over with a cross-stitch pattern. This must be Stitch.

The other medic frowns over Fox's wounds.

"That's deeper than usual," he says. He looks at Cobalt, "Do we have enough absorbable suture material?"

"We should. Check the third drawer from the top in my office."

While Stitch goes to get the suture material, Wolffe sits down next to Fox.

"Do you want to explain what the kriff is going on?"

Fox doesn't meet his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what the kark is wrong with you? First you shot Fives," Wolffe carries on despite the way Fox flinches, "Then I find out you're slicing open your own arms."

"You think I would do something like this?" Fox's voice sounds hollow, as if he already knows what the answer is.

"I don't know. I thought I knew you. But then you killed one of our brothers and I realised I don't have a kriffing clue! Something happened to you and now I don't know what in the Sith hells -"

"Commander Wolffe," Cobalt interrupts, "may I have a word?"

Wolffe follows the CMO into the hallway outside the medbay, leaving Fox staring silently at the floor. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Cobalt takes a deep breath.

"Look, sir, with all due respect - you handled that really kriffing badly."

Wolffe feels his temper flare in response.

"How was I supposed to react? Fox -"

"Is not cutting himself."

"What? Then how did he get hurt?"

"I can't say for sure. When he first came to me, I thought the same as you."

He doesn't say 'I handled it better though', but the meaning is eloquently conveyed by the look he gives Wolffe.

"I spoke to the other commanders and we organised a watch, making sure someone was with him at all times. We were vigilant; he never slipped away from us. He still got injured though."

"How?"

"I don't have any proof -"

"Spit it out!"

"The only times we weren't with him - was when he had a meeting with the Chancellor."

Wolffe's eyes widen.

"Are you implying -"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm giving you the facts."

"Facts that point to a pretty damning accusation."

Wolffe frowns, turning the pieces of the puzzle over in his mind. Something was going on, something that involved the Chancellor. First Fives - and now Fox.

He turns back to the medbay doors.

"Let me go talk to him."

Cobalt stops him.

"Actually talk to him? Or just yell again?"

Wolffe sighs. Yeah, he probably deserves that.

"Actually talk."

"Good," Cobalt moves out of his way, "I've got enough messes to clean up without you adding to it."

Fox hasn't moved from where Wolffe left him. His arms have been bandaged and presumably stitched, but he still stares at the floor with that same blank look.

"Fox?" Wolffe sits down slowly.

Fox's head snaps toward him, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"You're still here?"

"Of course I am. Where else would I be?"

Fox looks down again.

"I thought -" he swallows, "Thought you left."

Wolffe frowns. Fox must be doing even worse than he thought if he can think that Wolffe would just leave him like that.

"No, I just had a talk with Cobalt, that's all," Wolffe sighed, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. Ni ceta, Fox."

Fox stares at him.

"What? No, Wolffe, it's - you don't have to apologise to me."

"I do. I shouldn't have said what I did. You're not - oh kark, you know I'm not good with words. The point is there is something wrong here, but it's not you, Fox."

Oh kriff, now Fox is crying. Wolffe sits for a moment in muted shock before gingerly wrapping his arms around his brother. Fox clings to him as desperately as he had yesterday and Wolffe realises it might have been the result of more than just exhaustion.

Once Fox is slightly calmer - which isn't much later; Fox has always been good at controlling his emotions - Wolffe scrapes together the courage to ask him,

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cobalt says this has happened before - plus, I saw the scars - so... when - how did you - get hurt?"

Fox pulls away from him, but Wolffe keeps one arm around his shoulders. He'll let go if Fox really needs him to, but judging by the way his brother leans into him, Fox needs the contact as much as Wolffe does.

"It's..." Fox fidgets with the edge of the bandage at his wrist, "It's a punishment."

Wolffe frowns.

"Punishment given by who? For what?"

Fox ignores the first question.

"For failing. At first - first it was just small slip-ups. Being late to a meeting or not getting the right flimsiwork submitted on time. But then it got worse. There was the incident with Commander Tano and then Fives and I -"

Fox's words get faster and faster until Wolffe is sure he doesn't have time to breathe between them.

"Woah, slow down, Fox. Take a deep breath."

Fox breathes in and out and outwardly calms down. Wolffe still knows him well enough though that he can read the fear in his twin's eyes. Fox knows what he's about to ask and he doesn't want to give him the answer.

"Who did this to you, Fox?" Wolffe asks quietly.

Fox shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

"I can't."

"You can. Hey, look at me, Fox."

Wolffe waits until Fox is looking at him before he speaks.

"I know I've messed up. Whatever this is, it's been going on for far too long and I wasn't here to stop it. But, please, vod, believe me when I say I will end it now. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

"You can't," slow, steady tears run down Fox's face, "You can't protect me."

Wolffe smiles, the kind that looks more like a snarl, baring his teeth in defiance.

"Watch me."

That manages to draw a tired huff of laughter from Fox. He buries his head against Wolffe's chest.

"You haven't changed," he mumbles.

Wolffe doesn't respond, just holds Fox tighter, willing his brother to feel safe enough to open up to him. To let him help.

"It was the Chancellor."

Fox whispers the words so quietly that Wolffe almost doesn't hear them.

Almost.

This is it, Wolffe decides, the final straw. He's going to comm General Plo and Cody and they're going to take this to the Council. Then they're going to kill that demagolka.

"Don't worry, Fox," Wolffe says, "everything's going to be okay now. We'll take care of it."

A/N: Cue Wolffe beating up the Chancellor while Plo Koon looks really proud in the background.