Before they reach Saleucami, Domino squad sits down with everyone in Beta, old and new (Coric joins them), to explain. It's in between shifts and restocking assignments, later at night in the barracks. Some have heard parts of the story and some have heard all but everyone has questions, including Captain Rex even though he's heard them recount their past lives several times by now. Domino wants everyone on the same page, and it makes Droidbait feel some sense of relief. Del, Nax, and Coric hadn't known about the time travel. Neither had Kix. They try to get a hold of Hevy, but he doesn't answer his comm—they'll have to update him later.
They put their cards on the table. All of them—time travel, Fox killing Fives, Echo being tortured, the things they've tried to change, whether they were successful or not. The Chancellor.
There's a long, long silence afterwards. So long that Droidbait worries it's too much—it had been for him, after all, in the beginning. But they'd felt like it was time to start letting their brothers in on the secret. Droidbait feels good about it, and, well—if there's one thing he's learned about his second life, it's that instinct is more often right than not.
(Instinct… or something else? He's not sure, nor is he fully capable of understanding that yet, so he doesn't dwell on it.)
A low growl from Kix is the first thing to break the silence.
"How do we stop the Chancellor?"
It's a good question. One that still haunts Droidbait's thoughts, and surely the thoughts of his batchmates as well.
"We don't know yet," Echo admits shamefully. "There's no physical evidence against him, we just have Fives' testimony." And a feeling, is what he doesn't say, but that isn't nearly enough to convince a courtroom. If only.
"General Skywalker is awfully close to the Chancellor," Jesse forces out, almost whispering. It makes every clone's head shoot up, but Hardcase actually stands up, eyes flashing.
"He would not," he says hotly. "The General wouldn't betray the Republic like that!"
Droidbait thinks of what he's heard, what Fives has told him, and feels something sinking in his gut. The General Skywalker who'd spoken easily with them the other day wouldn't… but maybe General Skywalker of the future would. Or maybe war just changes people. Droidbait doesn't know. Regardless, Hardcase's firm trust in their General is refreshing. Droidbait wants to imitate it.
Jesse nods at Hardcase's words.
"You're right. So… maybe the Chancellor is manipulating him. Or trying to catch him off guard so that he can kill him. Take out the hero of the Republic, and morale would drop faster than a baby porg off a cliff."
"Porgs can fly, y'know," Nax mutters, getting a snort out of Fives.
"Only the adult ones," Jesse fires back, mouth twitching.
"But hang on," Del interrupts. "What does this have to do with the… Force thing? Or whatever it is that General Skywalker was concerned over?"
"That's… one of the things that we don't know," Droidbait tells them slowly. He remembers standing before Shaak Ti, back when it had all started for the second time. A comment she had made to them flashes through his mind, and he thinks he sort of understands now, or at least recognizes its importance: "You cannot wield the force as the Jedi can. But the Force is watching you. It senses your good intentions. It seeks to help you. I don't know what for, but perhaps you do."
None of them had understood. They still don't, but… maybe they'll be learning soon. The Force plays a bigger part in this story than Droidbait had thought possible. They're clones, for crying out loud.
"From what I understand," Echo starts, "The Force is energy. There are two types. Organisms are typically filled with Living Force, and don't ask me what that is because I don't know yet, but there's a second kind. Cosmic Force. We have that, apparently. If I had to guess, I'd say… time-travel has really messed things up."
"You don't say," Cutup comments dryly. Droidbait chokes on a laugh.
"But regardless, we can't use the Force," Fives says. "The invisible barrier between us and the energy still exists. We aren't Jedi."
"That's still confusing," Coric mutters. Fives grimaces.
"Well, that's the best we've got," he defends. "We don't have more info."
"Force aside," Kix says, "I see one objective here. Okay, two. Removing the chips, and killing the Chancellor."
"Fair. But one step at a time. We can't risk him knowing that we're onto him before the army can be de-chipped," Echo reminds him. Kix scowls unhappily. He crosses his arms, but nods.
"Sticking with our original goal is our best bet," Captain Rex interjects. The other clones all turn to look at him. "The recent news on the Force is an interesting development, and dethroning Palpatine is a worthy end goal, but we need to focus on what we can control, right now. The control chips would fall into that category, and that's where we need to continue working. At the moment, there are three battalions free, and hundreds more still enslaved. On top of that, we need to keep ourselves alive. We've got our work cut out for us."
His authority and firm declaration make Droidbait relax. They're not alone. They aren't the only minds in this fight.
"Yessir," Beta squad tells him. Droidbait catches the glimpse of a fond smile on Fives' face.
"Now, until then, there are more pressing questions to be asked," Rex continues, and he fixes Fives and Echo with a firm look. "What can you tell us about what happens on Saleucami?"
Fives and Echo, for a brief moment, look like tauntauns caught in headlights. Then Echo smiles.
"Well, sir, to start… you're gonna get shot."
"What?"
When the Commander had told them that she could get them out of restocking, Droidbait had taken up the offer without a second thought, but he hadn't been expecting this.
"General Skywalker told you that we need to what?" he repeats nervously. Commander Tano laughs, grinning at Domino's confusion. Droidbait stares around the small, empty room as the Commander sits herself down in the center, crossing her legs underneath her.
"Teach you about how to shield your minds," she repeats. Droidbait tries not to feel too spooked about that. Next to him, Fives is almost vibrating with… it seems to be an odd mixture of excitement and dread. Echo is still, arms crossed, and Cutup still looks confused. "Master Skywalker told me I should explain it to you, just in case."
"But, sir," Cutup protests, "The General said it himself—we can't use the Force. We aren't… sensitive, or whatever it was."
"Force-sensitive," Commander Tano corrects, and indicates for them to sit. Warily, they obey. "And you're right. You aren't. But you don't have to be a Jedi to shield your mind. It isn't Force energy, it's more… control. So that someone else can't get in as easily."
Domino squad shares an uneasy look.
"And what does it consist of, sir?" Cutup asks. Commander Tano shrugs.
"Nothing you aren't comfortable with," she says, sensing their hesitation. "But to start with… meditation. Focusing your thoughts. Later, we'll need to test things—I might try to break your shielding, but I won't enter your minds. It's to see where your weaknesses might be, and where you can improve."
That doesn't sound as bad as Droidbait had originally feared. He relaxes a bit.
"Okay, Commander. What can you teach us?" Fives asks curiously, similarly put at ease. In answer, Commander Tano closes her eyes. A strange energy floods the room, making the hair on the back of Droidbait's neck stand on edge. The Force.
"Shielding your mind is something that's taught to all young Jedi, before they can even leave the Jedi temple," she begins. "It's that important. It's always been that way, even before the war. Your mind is a powerful tool, but it can be a tool for the enemy too. That's why you have to guard it with your life."
Echo makes a sharp noise of agreement. Commander Tano looks at him.
"When my Master entered your mind yesterday, how did it feel?"
"Uncomfortable," Echo says, and suddenly his eyes go far away. Droidbait knows that look. He's not just remembering General Skywalker. He's remembering Tambor as well. "Afraid. Unsure. It felt like my thoughts were wide open and exposed. I couldn't… couldn't have stopped him, even if I'd wanted to. I did want to, but I didn't know how. I had no idea what he was going to look for."
If Commander Tano picks up on his sudden unsteadiness, she doesn't comment.
"That's why these exercises are so important," she says. "And they're still things that Master Skywalker and I practice, to keep ourselves from getting rusty. The first place to start is meditation. When your mind is at risk, sometimes your own thoughts can turn against you. You've got to keep them calm. Sometimes," her lips quirk upwards, "this is the hardest part. In a private room it's easy, but on the battlefield… well. We struggle, sometimes."
Droidbait thinks of her and General Skywalker on the battlefield and laughs inwardly. That makes sense.
"Close your eyes for now, and get into a comfortable position," Commander Tano instructs. "Don't force your breathing—let it be natural."
Great, now that she's mentioned it Droidbait already feels like he's controlling his own breathing. He closes his eyes and tries to figure it out for a minute, listening to the sounds of his batchmates around him. Every time he feels like he's forgetting about his breathing, he remembers that he's not supposed to think about it and involuntarily recognizes it again. It frustrates him quickly, and he feels the edges of boredom trickle into his mind. Based on the little grunt he hears at his side, he's not the only one.
They wait a few more minutes, and eventually Commander Tano's voice cuts through the silence.
"Okay, open your eyes. How do you feel?"
Droidbait opens his eyes instantly and sighs in relief. Next to him, Fives seems similarly frustrated, but Cutup looks calm. Calmer than Droidbait's ever seen him before. Echo's eyes are still closed.
"Having trouble?" Commander Tano asks him, a grin on her face. Droidbait flushes.
"Uh… sir, I—"
"It's fine, 'Bait. Everyone uses different methods to meditate. The point is to calm your heart rate and clear your mind. If focusing on your breathing doesn't work, you should try something else. For example, thinking of something that brings you peace."
Droidbait furrows his brow thoughtfully. Something that brings him peace is… his brothers. He closes his eyes and tries again, without really thinking about it. He calls up memories, remembers sparring with Beta, giggling with Attie, teasing Hevy, fighting together. He remembers solving problems and offering comfort and being part of a team. He remembers that he isn't alone.
It calms him faster than a breathing exercise ever could.
He opens his eyes and sees Commander Tano staring at him, expression pleased.
"That's good," she says. "Practice that. Then we'll move to the next step. Whatever you just thought of, it produced a strong shield." Her gaze moves to Fives. "What's something that calms you down, Fives?"
Fives smiles at her, but it's a sad smile.
"I'm really not sure anymore, sir," he says, voice a strange mixture of tension and sadness. Droidbait glances at him with worry.
"It helps to not focus on the future, or the past, but to stay in the present," Echo suddenly says. Droidbait jumps at his voice. Echo's eyes are opened. "Or so the studies say."
"Echo, have you done this before?" Commander Tano asks, delighted.
"No, sir," Echo says. "I'd heard about it, that's all. But I never had the chance to try it. The present, Fives."
Droidbait knows what Echo's trying to say, and Fives understands as well. He makes a face.
"Easier said than done," the ARC mutters under his breath, but he closes his eyes anyway, making the effort.
"Sir…" Cutup says hesitantly after a moment. "I have a question, if that's okay."
Commander Tano nods at him, so he continues.
"What… is the Living Force, and what is the Cosmic Force?"
That puts an end to Fives' attempt to meditate. Suddenly Domino is attentive again, eyes open and intense. Commander Tano shakes her head.
"I should have known you were going to ask."
She pauses for a moment, searching for words. Droidbait waits anxiously for her answer.
"It's not something most Jedi even care to learn about," she says finally. "They're both the Force, it's just… two different sides of it. One deals with life. The other deals with… keeping the universe together. Laws like gravity, or time, I think."
Droidbait blinks. Well then.
"Living beings generate the Living Force, and that powers the Cosmic Force. Both are necessary to keep the galaxy functioning. Or at least, that's how they explain it in the Temple. But that's all I know. And that's all most Jedi ever know. There are students of the Living Force, but I've never heard of a student of the Cosmic Force. I'm not exactly sure what that would consist of."
"Interesting," Echo breathes out. He sounds intrigued. Droidbait understands, but it doesn't answer their questions yet. The Cosmic Force having to do with time does make sense, though.
"That's all I know, sorry," Commander Tano says, holding her hands up apologetically. "But I'm sure that when Master Kenobi learns more, he'll let us know."
"Thank you, sir," Droidbait tells her. "We appreciate it anyway."
"Back to it, then! This is important!" she orders with a grin, and Droidbait obliges, closing his eyes once more and focusing in on the thoughts of his brothers.
Hevy wakes up to the sound of a gun safety being released.
It sends him into panic for a brief moment, jerking up—only to smash his head on the bottom of Flak's bunk. He swears violently, pressing a hand to his forehead to stifle the pain, and looks around when he hears someone chuckle.
"Calm down, Hevy. Sorry to wake you. We got called in," Jek tells him in a groggy voice. He's already halfway into his armor. Rys is next to him, reloading his DC-15A with practiced hands.
"Called in?" Hevy slurs. "What time is it?"
Rys snorts.
"Not even dawn," he responds gruffly. "But don't worry. This is normal."
"You're kidding me," Flak hisses, barely awake above him. Jek grins in wry amusement as he shoves his helmet on.
"I wish," he says. "But we're leaving, so go back to sleep."
"Where are you going?" Hevy asks, blinking sleep from his eyes. He swings his feet onto the floor. "I can help—"
"Ah, ah. Stay right there," Rys tells him with a stern shake of his finger. "You're not going anywhere, except to sleep."
"Kriff off," Hevy growls, annoyance flashing through him before he can stop it. He's not helpless. "I can—"
"You're not recovered enough, and that's final, Commander's orders," Jek says, passing a droid popper deftly to Rys who stows it somewhere in his armor. "We'll be back in a couple hours. There was some kind of disturbance in the underworld, probably a gang fight. We're being sent to suppress it."
"Underworld?"
They don't answer him. They're already charging out the door to join several other squadrons now thundering through the hallway. Hevy hears light chatter and barked orders. It makes him miss the 501st. He groans, letting his head fall back onto his pillow with a thud.
"I hate this," he snarls into the open air. "I hate being useless."
"I don't hate being useless at sithspit-in-the-morning," Flak groans. "Let it go, Hevy. Sleep, please." He rolls over and goes silent again. Hevy debates doing the same, but he can't manage it—his heart is pumping, and his fingers are itching for his gun.
He doesn't end up sleeping. He scrolls through the records on his datapad for a few hours instead, reading the reports that the GAR are sending in and struggling to reign in his temper as he does.
When Flak finally wakes up, normally this time, he seems surprised that Hevy's still up. Hevy offers him a little wave and snorts at the sight of the pilot fumbling his way to the ground from the top bunk.
"How long have you been awake?" Flak asks. Hevy shrugs.
"Since Jek and Rys left."
"Really?" Flak deadpans. "Why? Are you trying to put yourself out of commission for longer or are you just an idiot?"
Hevy glares at him. "Couldn't go back to sleep. Didn't want to."
Flak sighs.
"You'll regret that later today," he says, arching to pop his back. "Well, can we at least go get some breakfast? Is there even a mess hall in here?"
"Dunno," Hevy answers him, setting the datapad down and rubbing his eyes. He gets to his feet and almost stumbles, but he finds his footing soon enough. He's tired, sure, but he's not going to give Flak the satisfaction of seeing that. "Want to find out?"
The barracks outside are full of clones in their blacks, stumbling for the scattered refreshers. Every so often, armored squads push through the hordes of barely awake brothers, headed out for patrols already. It's familiar, but also not. It's missing 501st blue. Hevy's eyes hurt from all the red.
"Hey, who're you?" he hears, and turns in time to see a clone staring at him in confusion. "You're… not Guards." Hevy blinks.
"How'd you know?" Flak asks, eyes wide. The Guard tilts his head.
"You're a pilot," he tells him. "And you're an infantryman. It's all over your body language. And you're lost. No Guard would be wandering that aimlessly."
"Okay, okay," Hevy says with a grin. This kid reminds him of Echo. He's young—Hevy can see that much in his face, but he's seen battle too. "You're right, we're visitors. But here to help."
The new clone's eyes flash. He looks them up and down.
"With your injuries, I doubt that," he says briskly. It isn't said in a harmful manner, just matter-of-fact, so Hevy brushes aside the offense. He steps aside to allow a few armored troopers past. "Is that why you're here? Recovery?"
Hevy huffs.
"Something like that," he answers. "Hey, kid, know where the mess hall is?"
The clone nods.
"I'll take you," he says. "The name's Byte, by the way. Not 'bite', like a wolf, but Byte like gigabyte."
"I'm Hevy," Hevy introduces. "The pilot is Flak. We're 501st. You're a smart one. What do you do?"
Byte glances back at them as he makes his way through the hallway.
"I was an intelligence worker," he says. "Though that's been downgraded a little bit. Mostly, now, I talk down angry Coruscant citizens."
Hevy winces.
"Sounds like fun," he says sarcastically. Byte snorts.
"Very fun."
They emerge into the Command Center. Byte immediately starts to divert, headed down another hallway, but Hevy turns his head as faint shouting reaches his ears. In fact, everyone's attention is drawn to the front doors, so when two clone troopers burst into the Command Center towing a struggling Weequay between them, no one is really surprised.
"—hold still, Sleemo!" one of the clones is yelling. The Weequay doesn't obey, thrashing even more, and one of the clones loses his grip. The Weequay twists and kicks out, managing to get free for a half a second—
And then freezes, because every clone in the Command Center suddenly has a weapon pointed at him. His split second hesitation is enough for two additional clones to come swooping in, binders in hand. Within a moment the unfortunate criminal is handcuffed and on his knees. The two clones that had brought him slump in relief.
"What's this?" a voice demands, and the crowd of curious clones parts—there's a clone Commander advancing towards the new prisoner, helmetless. It's not Thorn, or Fox.
"Commander Thire," one of the clones says, voice trembling just a little beneath the helmet. "He was robbing a civilian. We weren't equipped for an arrest, so we brought him here."
Commander Thire looks the two clones over.
"Where is the rest of your team, Blank?" he asks, voice dropping. Blank doesn't look at him, stiffening, but the Weequay lets out a hoarse laugh.
"Shot 'em," he gloats. "Shot 'em dead, clone. Self-kriffin'-defense."
Hevy snarls. The entire Command Center tenses.
Commander Thire's expression hardens.
"Blank, is this true?"
"Y-yessir," Blank forces out. "When we attempted to apprehend him, he turned his weapon on us."
"Take this criminal to the brig," Commander Thire orders, anger flashing in his eyes. "I want manslaughter added to the list of his charges—"
The Weequay's head shoots up, even as two new clones shove him to his feet.
"Manslaughter? I ain't no murderer, sir," he sneers. "I damaged Republic property maybe, but I ain't killed anyone."
Hevy gasps. The implication is clear. Several clones growl out threats and curses, fingers tightening over gun triggers. Blank, who's squadron is now down to two, lets out a cry of rage, throwing himself towards the criminal with balled fists, but Thire intercepts him, shoving him back.
"Stand down, trooper," he barks out. He glares at the Weequay with disgust and barely controlled fury. "We'll see about that, scum. Take him away."
The Weequay laughs as he's dragged off, clearly delighted by the reaction he'd gotten out of the assembled clones, and all is silent for a long moment. Hevy can barely breathe.
Finally, Commander Thire takes a deep breath.
"As you were, troopers," he orders softly, and the bustle starts back up again—noticeably with less spirit, but it starts up nonetheless.
Hevy feels like he's about to explode.
"Hey," Byte says quietly. "Mess hall's this way." He taps Hevy's shoulder, and Hevy follows him without really paying attention.
The mess hall is subdued when they arrive. The chatter is quiet, serious. News travels faster than a forest fire in clone barracks. Hevy grabs his tray and sits down next to Flak, whose face is twisted in distaste.
"I think I've lost my appetite," he mutters, and then jerks when Byte sets his tray down across from them, sliding into the seat.
"Is it always like that?" Hevy dares to ask.
"Not usually. There are better places to take captured criminals, it's a rare occasion when we have to hold someone here although the brig is sizable—"
"No, not that. Those kinds of… comments, I meant," Hevy corrects with a wince. Byte snaps his mouth shut.
"Oh," he says. "That. Yes. It's true, anyway. He'll be charged for property damage. Sometimes Thire tries to press manslaughter, but it doesn't stand legally, so…"
"What!" Hevy hisses, banging his hands on the table and surging to his feet. "You've got to be joking!"
"Hevy, sit down!" Flak demands, grabbing his arm to pull him. Hevy takes a breath. The eyes of every clone in the mess hall are on him, so he lowers himself back to his seat. Byte is looking at him strangely.
"Don't tell me that's not something you've ever encountered," he says, and Hevy has to take another deep breath to suppress his immediate urge to smash something.
"It—I… on the battlefield, that doesn't matter," he manages to get out. "It's the front lines, it's war. There aren't any charges to be pressed."
"Hm. Lucky. Sounds so much easier," Byte says wistfully. Hevy grits his teeth.
Another thing that needs to be changed. The clones aren't even recognized legally as human. They're nothing more than property.
"We're going to fix this," Hevy says determinedly. Byte raises an eyebrow, but Hevy doesn't care what he thinks. If it's the last thing he does, he's going to fix it.
They do eventually find a way to help out. They've befriended Byte, who doesn't exactly have a squad because he's more of a desk-worker than anything, and he has a shift in the Command Center taking calls later that evening. Hevy spends the day organizing paperwork that Byte has forgotten about, while Flak volunteers his services as a pilot and weasels his way into accompanying a squad on an ordinary delivery mission. It's not exciting, but it makes Hevy nostalgic anyway. That being said, paperwork isn't fun but at least he's not sitting in his bed.
Jek and Rys return with a sizable squad of troopers and Commander Thorn (who's wielding a Z-6 rotary in his experienced hands, Hevy tries not to be jealous), armor singed but all limbs intact. They greet Hevy cheerfully despite obvious exhaustion and disappear, probably to head for the showers or the mess hall. Hevy's starting to notice a theme among the guards, and it seems to be just that—continual exhaustion with no end in sight. It isn't at all what he'd imagined.
Byte is taking calls from the beginning of his shift nonstop. He's like an emergency operator, listening to various reports from civilians and clones alike and assigning squads to go take care of the alerts. He goes through issues from bar fights to kidnappings to a kriffing lost pet in under ten minutes. Hevy's frankly impressed.
He's looking at paperwork for so long that he watches one command shift leave and another come in. Byte stays, but Commander Thire gets exchanged out for Thorn. The Commander raises an eyebrow when he sees Hevy accompanying Byte.
"Found a way to make yourself useful I see," he says in approval. Hevy grins at him.
"Of course, sir," he says. "I get too antsy just sitting around. This is better than nothing."
Thorn's comlink starts beeping. He makes an apologetic face at Hevy and turns to answer it, so Hevy shrugs and continues his current task of organizing. He's separating the paperwork that Byte hasn't signed yet from the ones that he has, and the ones that need to be signed by a superior officer. He's had to resist the urge to crumple the flimsi between his fingers several times already, but there's nothing else to do.
It's his dogged determination to be useful that allows him to be present when something very unexpected happens. Without warning, the Command Center doors slide open. Hevy doesn't look up, expecting nothing more than a returning squad, but all unnecessary chatter in the room suddenly goes silent. Hevy jerks his head up in surprise and freezes.
Commander Fox is back.
He's storming through the doors, fingers twitching at his sides as if he wants to draw the DC-17 pistol at his hip. Two other clones are straggling behind him, shoulders slumped and weaponless. Fox doesn't speak to anyone—in fact, he doesn't even acknowledge the Command Center, heading straight into the hallway and disappearing from sight. The two clones following him turn the other direction towards the mess hall.
For a moment, there's an awkward quiet. Hevy is confused. He feels like he's seen something that he wasn't meant to. The Guards all seem to be collectively holding their breath for the second time that day.
Commander Thorn gets up without a word and follows Fox out. His exit is like some sort of signal, and business resumes as usual. Hevy gets the feeling these kinds of moments are normal for them, and he doesn't like that.
Something's wrong here. Terribly wrong. He doesn't know how to describe it. There's a strange feeling in his gut that he's learned to recognize as the Force, but this time it's dark and ugly, nagging at him to pay attention. Something is wrong.
It's that sensation that makes Hevy stand, muttering a quiet, "Refresher," to a distracted Byte, who just waves a hand at him. No one gives Hevy a second glance as he follows the two clone commanders down the hallway towards the offices.
"...minimal casualties," he hears in a hushed whisper as he rounds a corner to come within earshot. "Nothing too serious. A scumbag of a Weequay in the brig, Thire's work. My group came back fine. Other than that, not much."
"Thanks," Fox replies gruffly. There's something odd about his voice that Hevy can't quite identify. Hevy backtracks quickly to hide back around the corner and peers around so that he can see Fox's open door. The two Commanders are inside, but he can't get much more detail than that.
"Did… did your operation go well?" Thorn asks haltingly. Hevy can't see them, but he hears a thump, as if a fist has connected with a desk.
"I don't know. Ask the Chancellor," Fox suddenly spits out. Hevy blinks at the venom in his voice.
There's a pause.
"Fox…"
"I don't kriffing remember again, Thorn."
Hevy has to cover his mouth to stop himself from gasping audibly.
Thorn lets out a long string of Huttese swear-words.
"Do you remember—"
"Nothing," Fox snarls again, voice cracking on the single word. "I don't even remember arriving in his office."
Thorn lets out an uneasy breath. "We knew it was going to happen, though—"
"That doesn't change it," Fox hisses. "That doesn't make it easier. I don't—" He sounds wrecked. Like he's seconds from either collapsing, or throwing a punch. "I don't understand. I can't keep doing this. I—"
"Calm down," Thorn orders sharply, and it's what Fox needs to hear, because Hevy hears his breathing slow. "I know, Fox. I remember how it was."
Hevy's eyes widen even more. It's happening to all of them.
"Guards are dying, and I don't even know where I've been for the past two days, or why I can't remember," Fox growls out weakly. "I don't know what to do. I can't afford to be out of action for so long—"
"That's why we're here," Thorn reminds him gently. "That's why there's more than one, okay? We can handle things while you're… gone…"
Fox laughs bitterly. There's zero humor in it. Hevy winces at the sound.
"Not much we can do about it, I guess," Fox says finally. His voice is falsely pitched into something positive, borderline normal. "Life goes on, doesn't it? Send me those reports, I'll—"
"No," Thorn interrupts softly. "I'm not going to do that."
"Thorn—"
"It's okay to rest, Fox."
"There's too much to do, Thorn, you know that. The men can't see us like this. I won't—"
"I don't care," Thorn says. "Sit down."
Fox lets out a choked noise, and there's a metallic creak accompanied by the click of plastoid armor as a body sits down heavily in a chair.
Suddenly Hevy feels uncomfortable. Like he's infringing on something private. He backs up slowly, remembering Fives' and Echo's ARC training and keeps his steps light, so that they don't make noise.
Something is so very wrong here.
He makes his way back to the Command Center, struggling to keep his face straight as he passes brothers in the hall. When he sits back down next to Byte, the clone offers him a little smile, and Hevy weakly sends him one back.
His mind is whirling. Fox doesn't remember anything from his mission with the Chancellor. From the way he and Thorn had spoken, it isn't the first time, or the last. And it's not just Fox, either. All of the Commanders, and maybe the troopers that they go with, are being affected like this.
What is the Chancellor doing to them? This is a thousand times worse than Hevy had expected. A thousand times more dangerous, too.
How are they going to fix this?
Saleucami, in Fives' opinion, starts off well—himself, being the single exception.
The 501st is barely involved with the rescue mission of Jedi General Eeth Koth—that's all 212th, along with General Skywalker and Captain Rex, because of course they get dragged into it. The Resolute is on standby for a couple hours, and when word finally comes to the clones that Grievous has fled to the planet's surface, Beta squad gears up and are some of the first off the gunship.
Cutup and Hardcase are excited because they're assigned speeder bikes, and Fives can barely blame them. They stay on high alert as they do a preliminary scan of the terrain, keeping eyes peeled for the pesky Commando droids destined to shoot Rex, but there's no sign of them yet. When they return without news of droids, General Kenobi gives them the order to start setting up camp.
Fives is… admittedly going through the motions today, as he double-checks the tension line of a Republic walker. He's really not in the mood to be fully engaged.
His mind is… stuck. Focusing itself without his permission on the endless loop of the Coruscant Guard racing towards him, of his own sick dread, of a panic-filled lunge for his gun, and then—
Rex, standing over him. Clasping their hands together. Begging, like he'd never heard before in all his life.
("Fives, no, no, come on, Fives, please—stay with me!")
The words are haunting him. He can't push them away. He'd thought that telling the others about his death would help, at the very least make it easier to bear, but… it didn't. All it had done is bring the memories that he'd tried to repress for so long into the limelight.
He's so deep in thought, aching from the remembrances, that he doesn't notice the brother behind him until there's a hand on his shoulder. The sudden touch scares him, and something rears inside him that he hasn't felt in months—pure instinct, and a need to survive. He twists and lashes out automatically without thinking, heart pounding—
Only to gasp in shock as Cutup yelps and dodges, neatly sidestepping his desperate punch. Cutup flings him around in the same movement, pinning Fives to the walker beside him. Fives gasps as the wind is abruptly knocked out of his lungs. A few months ago his attack would have decimated Cutup—but his brother has been diligently training, and he's fast now. Almost just as fast as Fives himself.
"Force, Fives, what the kriff?" Cutup lets Fives go just as fast as he'd pinned him, and Fives slumps, shame, guilt, and frustration already warring inside his head. "Fives?"
"I—I'm sorry, Cutup," Fives manages to grit out. "I'm okay, I'm okay." Cutup tilts his head. He's wearing his helmet, but Fives can sense his expression of disbelief.
"Yeah… you're still a horrible liar," Cutup mutters. He places a comforting hand on Fives' shoulder, and fortunately Fives is more in control to appreciate it now. "Talk to me, Fives. Do I need to call Echo over here?"
Fives bristles, but it's not an empty threat. He sighs when Cutup continues to stare at him, helmet unyielding.
"I'll be fine," Fives says, voice steady this time. "I'm just… getting wrapped up in the past again, Cutup. You know how it is."
Cutup's hand tightens on his shoulder for a brief moment.
"Yes," he responds. He does know, after all. "What do you need?"
Fives takes a deep breath. It's true, the presence of a brother is keeping him distracted, now that he's under control—what he really wants is to be alone, to shout his furies into open air, to slam his fist into a wall and maybe Palpatine's (or maybe Fox's) face—but. Perhaps being alone isn't the best idea, either.
He'd flinched when Echo had reached for him earlier, and he'd almost attacked Cutup unintentionally. He's not in the best emotional state right now.
"Okay," Cutup says gently, retracting his hand. He's taken Fives' indecision as a dismissal. "Just—"
"No, wait," Fives fumbles out, "Stay. I need… I need you here right now."
He doesn't like admitting his weaknesses. He's the strong one of Domino, the one who's already conquered all of his past demons—but it seems like the only type of lying that he's good at is lying to himself, because his past is rising to haunt him with much more potency than he'd ever expected. It makes him feel uncomfortably exposed, that Cutup is seeing him like this.
"Okay," Cutup replies quietly, pressing a little closer. Fives clenches his jaw and forces himself to just keep breathing. "You're alright, Fives. I get it. You're safe, if you need a few minutes."
Fives nods, and takes a moment to set himself straight.
His efforts to put his mental struggles behind don't last very long. Cutup stays with him until Fives feels stable enough to continue working, and then his brother leaves him to go continue helping around the camp. Fives is looking for some way to be useful, so that he can work instead of wallowing in self-pity, and ends up heading for Rex to ask for a job. The Captain is standing side by side with Jesse, who doesn't go anywhere without Kix, of course. They're practically united at the hip once more now that they're in the same squad again. It's good for them, Fives knows. They'd been as close as he and Echo in their past life.
"Sir," he greets, snapping out a quick salute. "Just wanted to know if there's anything I can do to help—"
"Fives," Rex says slowly, in a tone that Fives isn't expecting. He sounds… regretful. Fives blinks, almost taking a step back. No, he's not ready for something like this.
"I wanted to—"
"What, apologize for something that isn't going to happen?" Fives interrupts, swallowing as all his hard work to ignore the problem is dissolved in an instant. "Don't, Rex."
Kix and Jesse are staring at him, eyes wide. Rex is silent, and eventually Kix moves towards him, slowly, like he's approaching a wounded animal.
"Fives… maybe you should sit down for a second."
Fives wants to protest, because he just did this. Ten minutes ago, with Cutup. But Kix grabs his arms, gently, but firmly, and guides him towards the nearest supply crate to take a seat. His hands are so… familiar, against Fives' armor, an echo from another life, and that's enough to get Fives seated. Jesse is right there with them, and Captain Rex leans closer, inspecting Fives' face. Fives wonders what he sees.
"I wasn't going to say what you think I was," Rex tells him carefully. "Look at me, Fives."
Fives meets his gaze and nearly turns away again. It's too much.
"Call Beta," Jesse suggests in a low voice. Fives lifts a hand wearily in protest.
"Don't," he says. Jesse raises an eyebrow at him and calls anyway.
"He's in shock," Kix reports. "It's… PTSD at it's finest, I'd say."
Fives groans weakly at the description and buries his face in his hands.
Weak. Weak, he's weak. Every other member of Domino is fully functional, and one simple mention of Fives' own death has him incapacitated. He doesn't want them to see him like this.
They let him sit in silence for a long moment. Finally, Rex sighs.
"Fives… I can't pretend to understand. I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine the things you've seen, and I'm… disappointed, that in your last life, I wasn't able to help you when you needed me most. That you had to suffer at the hands of another brother. It's not going to happen like that again, I swear it."
"Rex, wasn't your fa—!"
"Listen, Fives." It's his command-tone, that Fives rarely hears outside of the context of screaming blasterfire. His mouth snaps shut almost involuntarily. Rex is the only one who has that kind of power over him. "I know you. I've seen you fight to keep Domino squad alive, at the cost of your own safety sometimes. You're here to fix things, and you aren't alone. We're well on our way to changing things, to stopping the Chancellor, and you're doing a good kriffing job of guiding us."
Fives shudders at the words, unsure if he wants to believe it but bound suddenly, because he knows Rex wouldn't lie to him.
"This time," Rex continues gently, "you need to let us help you. Despite what you say, you're more affected by this than you're letting on."
"I…" he croaks, unable to lift his head and unsure of what to say. Rex is right. As always.
"Repressing it isn't going to help, you know," Jesse contributes softly. "I was unsure of if I believed your story, at first, but the more I thought about it—the more I saw the loyalty you and your batchmates have for each other, and your determination to save the galaxy… well. I had to believe. And you might think that the memories of your past life are going to drag you down, or make you weak, but you need to allow yourself to overcome them. I may not have lived two lives, but I know enough to say that the longer you hold something in like this, the worse it is when you're forced to face it."
Fives remembers dimly that in his past life, there'd been rumors flying around the 501st that Jesse was slotted for future ARC training. He'd died, so he'd never gotten to see if they were true or not, but he can see it.
He hears footsteps approaching them and hunches his shoulders, bracing himself to hear Beta squad's comments—but they don't say anything. He senses them clustering around him, patient, giving him space while at the same time acting as a comforting presence.
Finally, Echo speaks. Fives had known that he would.
"Fives. It's okay. We're okay."
Fives wants to laugh. Are they? Are they really? Hevy is alone, across the galaxy with the very same men who'd killed Fives in another life.
He feels like something a mudhorn has stomped under its feet. He's so tired.
A steady hand rests on his shoulder. Fives dares to look up. It's Rex. Of course it is. Rex is there, as he's always been, offering a steady foundation. Fives stares around through wide eyes and sees—Kix. Jesse. Hardcase, surprisingly serious. Del and Nax. Cutup and Droidbait. Echo. His squadmates, past and present. His brothers. He'd give his life for any of them.
Something inside of him cracks. He can't hold the emotions in anymore. They've been repressed for too long.
Fives buries his face in his hands again and feels more hands reach out, steadying him. He doesn't cry, but he lets his breathing turn ragged and broken. They let him.
He's grateful for it.
He mourns his own unjust death for the first time since his rebirth.
A/N: The biggest thanks ever to lancerfate for the incredible help and editing on this chapter! 3
"All that surrounds us is the foundation of life, the birthplace of what your science calls midi-chlorians, the foundation of what connects the Living Force and the Cosmic Force. When a living thing dies, all is removed. Life passes from the Living Force into the Cosmic Force and becomes one with it. One powers the other. One is renewed by the other."
- Force Priestess Serenity, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Episode 6.12
"Living beings generate the Living Force, which in turn powers the wellspring that is the Cosmic Force."
- Qui-Gon Jinn, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Episode 6.11
Remember, Domino squad doesn't know that palpatine is a sith... they just know he's behind the chips.
In this story, Fives has often been afraid, or stressed, or focused, and sure he's had nightmares and breakdowns just as the others have. But Fives has never, in this story, spared the time or energy to think and mourn his own death at Fox's hands. He clung to it for as long as he could, but he couldn't repress those feelings forever. Telling the others was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Tup doesn't remember killing tiplar once he comes back to himself in the show. Makes sense to me that other characters under chip-influence would struggle to remember things as well. Something about the chip, maybe.
Come follow me on 'meridiansdominoes' on tumblr! Thank you as always for your support and for reading! 3