Dogma hadn't realized he was doing bad until he noticed how much better he was doing. He still didn't quite see the Guard as his vode, but he felt comfortable around them in a way he hadn't been able to do with Torrent.
He still got overwhelmed sometimes and needed to have some space in his closet. That was nothing against the Guard, or because he was upset with them. He just needed peace and quiet sometimes. He had been worried that the Guard wouldn't understand, or that they'd think he didn't like them. He was so bad at showing his affection.
They never seemed hurt or annoyed when he had to excuse himself in the middle of a conversation. Not like Hardcase or Jesse used to. The Guards would just smile and someone would offer to get him when it was time for a meal.
And if Dogma started rattling on about rules and procedures, nobody rolled their eyes or told him to relax. The Guards listened, and they weren't just humoring him the way that Tup and Kix had. They actually seemed to want to hear what he had to say. A lot of the Guards who had only ever served on Coruscant were fascinated by how their rules differed from those in the GAR.
Dogma was even able to debate with the Guard without feeling like he was going to be shunned for his opinion. While the Guards seemed to share his philosophy about rules, though to a lesser extent, they disagreed about the Jedi Generals.
Many of the Guard, including those who had served under the Jedi, thought that the Generals were underqualified for this war. They admitted that they did their best, and they even did decently enough all things considered, but they weren't trained or bred for war. Some of the Guard thought that the Jedi were too emotionally compromised to do their duties. Others thought that the Jedi weren't connected enough to the citizens they were serving to properly understand the importance of what they were fighting for.
It felt almost sacrilegious to speak of the Jedi this way, and Dogma passionately defended the Generals. His tone was probably far too offensive than what was appropriate for a simple disagreement, but he couldn't help it. Their whole lives everything they'd been taught was to make them better soldiers, and plenty of the Kaminoans lessons had been about loyalty towards the Jedi, even if they disagreed with them.
They had been created to serve the Republic, and the intention had always been for them to work under the Jedi. It wasn't their place to question their decisions.
The Guards that spoke against the Jedi didn't accuse Dogma of being a blind follower, and they didn't get defensive even though he was practically attacking them. They just offered their counter points, and even though Dogma didn't agree with what they had to say, he could understand where they were coming from.
He felt better about his discussion with the Guards than he did about any of the fights he'd had about the rules with Torrent. With the 501st, Dogma had walked away from the argument with a twisted feeling in his gut because he felt like he was being ganged up on, and that all of his brothers thought he was an idiot. He didn't feel that way with the Guards.
Dogma started to feel like he could talk to the Guards, but not about everything. When he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, missing Tup and craving physical affection, he went to Fox' office. He knew he shouldn't bother their Commander like this, and that he could just ask for a vod pile and a half a dozen brothers would immediately give him what he needed.
He wasn't quite at that stage yet. Maybe someday he could turn to the Guard like that, but until then he just went to Fox. Sometimes the Commander wasn't in his office, often because he had a last minute meeting, but that was fine. Dogma just grabbed the pillow off the floor, made himself comfortable, and read through some datapads until he either dozed off or Fox returned.
When Fox was in his office he let Dogma in without hesitation, whether he was resting or working. Usually they would sit together at the desk and Fox would let Dogma help him finish off his paperwork for the day. They both knew that they were supposed to be sleeping, but Dogma wouldn't be able to relax if he knew that Fox was still working, and neither of them would be able to sleep if they knew that they'd be starting the next day already behind. They both thought that both of them losing an hour of sleep was better than either of them having an uneasy rest.
They usually worked in silence, or just talked about their work, but it wasn't uncommon for them to talk about their brothers. It felt nice to talk to somebody about Tup. And they both enjoyed the stories they could exchange about Rex.
Dogma never really stopped seeing Fox as his Commander, but he also saw him as family. More than a brother, but not a vod. Dogma didn't have a word for how he felt about Fox, and he felt surprisingly okay about it.
Even if he wasn't as close to the rest of the Guard as he thought he should be, he did trust them, and he was getting a little better at trusting himself with them. Just as he was getting ready for his shift in the senate he saw a brother staring at his comms, looking like he didn't know whether to be frustrated, exhausted, or traumatized.
Dogma's instinct was to go find someone else to talk to this brother, or to leave him to figure things out on his own. The Guard had been going out of their way to help him though, and it didn't feel right to leave somebody who looked like they needed someone to talk to.
He doubted he was the right person for that, but Fox had been telling him that he was better than he gave himself credit for. He could talk to the Guard about his unpopular thoughts about the Jedi, and they didn't get mad at him for it. If they could handle him practically yelling at them for disrespecting the Generals, then they could probably handle him awkwardly trying to provide comfort.
Dogma swallowed thickly. "Are you okay?" He felt like an idiot asking it. He could tell the other wasn't okay, but this was the best way he knew to offer an invitation to talk if he needed.
"...My old company is taking a last minute stopover here before heading out on their new campaign." The stressed brother said. "I know them, and I know that a lot of them are going to 79's tonight."
"Are you scheduled for the drunk tank?" Dogma asked. It was the only reason why he could imagine so much stress coming from this situation. The other clone nodded. Dogma frowned slightly. He knew what he wanted to do about this, but he let himself think about it.
Most members of the Guard couldn't handle drunk tank duty when one of their vode might be there. Fox spent so much time arranging things so that their schedules wouldn't overlap. He didn't want any of them to be forced to come face to face with their brothers if they weren't ready for it. But sometimes the GAR worked outside of procedure.
Leaves were rescheduled. Generals had to make emergency trips to Coruscant, giving their men some unplanned days off. The 501st were some of the worst at it, but they were far from the only ones.
They tried their best to reschedule their shifts, but barely any notice had been given in this instance. Their shift was starting soon. There wasn't time to go to Fox to tell him what had happened, even if he was just in his office.
Dogma took a deep breath. "How are you in the senate?"
The other clone blinked. "I mean, it's not my favorite, but I'm fine at it."
"Okay." Dogma pulled out his datapad, finding his schedule details and shift information. He handed the pad to the other clone, who looked stunned. "We'll message the Commander and update him about what's going on, and in the meantime we'll switch shifts. I'll take the drunk tank, and you go to the senate. There's a vote in a few weeks, so tensions are high. Be prepared for that. My datapad should have any information you need about the senators you're more likely to interact with while on shift."
Dogma said this all matter-of-factly. He had always been very practical and efficient. When the other clone just continued to stare at him, he started to guess himself just a little bit. "Unless you don't want to-"
"No, no, I do." The other clone clutched the datapad tightly. "It's just…are you sure?"
Now Dogma was the one who was confused. It wasn't uncommon for him to take someone's shift, or for him to switch jobs with Tup or Hardcase. They were always grateful, but neither of them had ever asked if he was actually okay with it. If it was something he really wanted to do.
It was weird to receive a reaction of concern when he was just offering help. Weird, but a little nice.
Dogma took a deep breath and slowly let it out, letting the no-nonsense tension ease out of shoulders a little bit. He smiled at his brother. "Yes, I'm sure."
The other clone smiled broadly. "Well then, thank you. I'll make it up to you, I promise." He held out his hand. "My name's Brine."
"...Dogma." He said. It was his first time saying his own name out loud since coming here. He felt a hint of shame and more than a touch of fear at being teased. Mostly though he felt relief, like a weight had been lifted off his chest.
He didn't think he could tell everybody his name, but at least he could say it at all. At least somebody in the Guard knew.
Dogma took Brine's hand. They clasped each other tightly, like brothers who trusted each other completely. They lingered for a long moment before Brine had to hurry to get ready for the senate, and Dogma made his way to the front halls of the barracks, where those who were assigned to the drunk tank gathered before their shift to buddy up.
Dogma could work with any member of the Guard, but he was relieved to see somebody that he recognized. Chartreuse had been his buddy during a prison shift, and Dogma knew that he was nice enough, but more importantly he was flexible when it came to doing what needed to be done. He wouldn't ask too many questions about Dogma taking over at the last minute. Chartreuse knew what was necessary.
There were eight Guards on duty at the drunk tank at a time. Four of them brought the other clones in and made sure that things didn't get out of hand at the bars, and the other four kept an eye on them in the drunk tank. With Dogma there, they had five of them waiting, with the other three expected to be there at any minute.
"Vod'ika?" Chartreuse recognized him, and didn't seem disappointed to see him. For Dogma, who had always been either unnoticed or specifically disliked, with no in between, it was nice. "I didn't know you had this shift."
"I don't." Dogma said. "Brine's brothers are on Coruscant, so I'm taking over for him." The others nodded, as though this wasn't something completely unheard of. It was heartbreaking.
While they waited for the others to come, Dogma sent a message to Fox. He didn't read it immediately, as he was very busy today, but he'd get it eventually, and Dogma felt better knowing he had done what he needed to.
Eventually the others on shift arrived. They quickly went over who was on leave and what they could expect, and what kinds of things they might need to watch out for today. They didn't expect anything especially problematic.
Dogma's buddy hadn't actually been Chartreuse, but they agreed to do some simple switching around so that he was paired with the brother he was most comfortable with. Dogma tried to argue, because he didn't feel that he needed accommodations like that, but Chartreuse insisted, and nobody else seemed bothered by it.
Dogma and Chartreuse, as well as two others, went to 79's. He'd never done this part of the job before, but he knew what to expect. A lot of drunk and unhappy clones. Dogma needed to be ready for some of them to get physical. It wouldn't be fine, and he'd probably need a vod pile when he got back, but he could take it.
It wasn't as bad as Dogma had worried it might be. They got nasty looks and insults, and if there was a clone too drunk to behave themselves on Coruscant then they had to take them to the drunk tank. That was pretty much the extent of this particular job. Dogma had done something like this a couple of times when the 501st got themselves drunk on duty, and he had to bring them back to their bunks or report them to Rex before they got themselves in trouble. If he could do it then, he could do it now.
Everything was going just fine until about halfway through his shift. That was when they were called in by the bartender. A fight had started inside the bar, and the bartender wanted those involved taken care of before things got out of hand. It shouldn't be a big deal. The four of them would go in, get the drunken clones, and bring them in so they could sleep it off.
They saw the problem immediately. They heard yelling in a corner. There was a crowd, but the second people saw the Coruscant Guard there they backed off. The guard wouldn't hesitate to go through anybody that stood in their way, even their brothers.
The people who didn't part were pushed aside by the Guards. Dogma, who was a little smaller than most clones, was able to weave through the rest of the crowd to get to the fight. He couldn't make out what the shouting was about, but when he saw a clone moving in to punch another, he moved without thinking.
Dogma grabbed the clone's elbow, pulling him back. "That's enough." He said sternly. The clone in his grip whirled around, looking ready for a fight. Dogma was able to get a good look at him, and he froze. He recognized that republic cog tattoo.
He tried to tell himself that there were a lot of clones that had this style of tattoo, but he knew that there would only be so many that had them cover such a large surface area of the head. And one look at the blue paint on the armor was all the confirmation that Dogma needed.
"Jess?" Dogma's mind shut down. The 501st wasn't supposed to be on Coruscant today. Dogma hadn't seen any of them since his transfer. Seeing Jesse so suddenly, he remembered the times that he'd been a good older brother, but also the times when he'd acted like he couldn't stand Dogma's mere existence. The contrast made his brain start to shut down.
Jesse stared at him with disbelief. "D'ika?" His voice was so quiet that Dogma was probably the only one who heard him, and he doubted that he'd even heard correctly. Why would Jesse's voice be full of so much emotion? He couldn't be surprised that Dogma was there. He knew that he was in the Coruscant Guard. And he couldn't be happy to see him, because why would anybody in the 501st be happy to see Dogma?
While Jesse and Dogma just stared at each other, each of them having their own internal crisis, Chartreuse had caught up to them and he got a grip on the one that Jesse had been moving in to punch. Chartreuse was far from harsh in his grip, but the clone wrenched back, sneering at him in disgust.
"This doesn't involve you, Corries." The other clone said. He spat the word like it was an insult. His tone sounded far too familiar. Dogma didn't need to see the tattoo to know that it was Fives. "It's just a disagreement between vode. Something none of you would know anything about."
Jesse let out a low growl and he lurched towards Fives. Dogma had to tighten his grip and pull back to keep the fight from starting again.
"Don't you dare!" Jesse said. "Don't you dare talk to them like that."
"Why do you care?" Fives sounded just as confused as Dogma felt. Nobody defended the Guard, and while Torrent defended Dogma from outsiders, they didn't stand up for him against each other. They were far more likely to join in on the ribbing. "They're just Corries."
Dogma felt Jesse's arm shake. "They're our brothers." Jesse said. "And despite what you seem to think, you can't just throw him aside and pretend he doesn't exist, just because it's easy for you."
Fives looked like he had been slapped in the face. He tried to take a step towards Jesse, but Chartreuse held him back. "That's not what happened!"
"No?" Jesse pulled away from Dogma, and though he wanted to pull him back again he felt like he couldn't move at all. He couldn't breathe. He could just watch as Jesse stormed up to Fives while Chartreuse tried to keep in the middle of them while shouting for back-up.
"You could barely stand to look at Dogma." Jesse said. Dogma's head snapped up. He didn't even realize that he wasn't being addressed. "You pushed him away, and you sent him away, just because you can't get over yourself. Echo would be ashamed of you."
Fives shouted in pain and fury and dove past Chartreuse, hitting Jesse. They started going at each other while the clones at the bar egged them on. Chartreuse tried to stop them, but he was just one clone. He had a blaster on them, locked on stun while they were on this shift, so he could easily subdue them, but that was a last resort. It may stop the fight, but in a rowdy bar, it would just start a dozen others.
Dogma's chest tightened and he took a step back. His heart was racing in a way that it never had out on the frontlines. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He should be fine. This wasn't a big deal. Emotionally, he felt okay. Why was his body reacting like this? The Kaminoans had taught him better than this.
His ears were ringing and everything became a bit of a blur for him. There was just so much noise and movement, and his brain refused to filter through any of it to make it make sense. He was just stuck in a world of chaos.
"Vod'ika?" He jumped when he felt a gentle but firm hold on his shoulders. "Come on, soldier, let's get you back to the tank." He didn't know if he'd be able to move, so he was surprised when he was gently pulled along, and he actually followed.
His legs felt like lead. He didn't know how they were moving at all, but he was moving on instinct. He was pulled away from the bar and across the road to the drunk tank. He didn't know how long he'd been out of it, but the other guards at 79's had grabbed Jesse and Fives and were working with the other four guards to get them situated in the small cell, all while trying to keep them from fighting anymore.
Dogma caught a glimpse of Jesse's busted lip and Fives' crooked nose, and the darkness in his chest grew stronger as he realized that they had been fighting over him. He wasn't even with the 501st anymore and he was tearing them apart.
Dogma was led into the back room and gently pushed onto the couch. Chartreuse took off his own helmet, and then reached up and took Dogma's off for him.
"Breathe, Vod'ika." Chartreuse said with more gentleness and care than Dogma thought he deserved. "You're okay."
"They're not supposed to be here." He said numbly. His tone didn't at all reflect the conflict stirring inside of him.
"I know." Chartreuse said. "The 501st's General was called back to Coruscant at the last minute, and nobody bothered to report the change to us. I'm sorry, Vod'ika. You shouldn't have had to face them."
And Dogma just felt worse, because that wasn't what he had meant. Chartreuse shouldn't be apologizing to him. Dogma was the only one at fault. Fives and Jesse, who never seemed to have an unkind word to say about each other, were fighting, and it was because of him. They wouldn't be in the drunk tank if not for him.
They should be enjoying their unexpected break. They should be having fun with Hardcase, and showing Tup the good time he deserved. They shouldn't even be thinking about Dogma. They'd barely spared him a second thought when he'd served right at their side. It shouldn't be any different now, but it was, and Dogma really didn't know what to do with it.
So he did nothing, and he hated himself for it. The Kaminoans had trained him well, and he was hiding away from his own feelings like a coward. Their training had been wasted on him, and if they found out…
No. They weren't going to find out. He'd get better. He would find where he went wrong, come up with a plan, and do better next time. He wouldn't let himself be frozen with inaction just because of his stupid emotions. He was a good soldier. Working past his feelings was what he'd been created for.