Dogma stayed hidden away in the storage closet all day. He just read on his datapad and tried to ignore the tears itching at his eyes, and the eternal lump in his throat and heaviness in his chest.
He was fine. He should be just fine. He shouldn't be getting so worked up over nothing. So what if he was going to be alone, and he felt like nobody would miss him at all? It wouldn't be any different to the way things had been on Kamino.
Except he wouldn't have Tup, but Dogma did his best to not think about his vod. It just made him feel like crying pathetically, and he was stronger than that.
Eventually the next morning came. The ship was landing. Dogma took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and pushed his feelings down as far as he could. They were in Coruscant. His new job was waiting for him. It wouldn't do for him to be sobbing like a cadet when he met his new commanding officer.
Dogma left his sanctuary and went to get his armor and belongings. He walked quickly past everybody else, who was rushing to leave the ship and get a break. He didn't look at anybody as he passed them, not wanting to recognize someone. In return, nobody spares him a second glance.
And why should they? He was just one face in a sea of brothers.
Dogma immediately felt like he could breath easier when he put his helmet on. This was his shield. Nobody could see how weak and vulnerable he really was as long as he wore the mask of a soldier.
He went to Rex' office, ready to leave. The Captain was there, and nobody else. Dogma hadn't really wanted to see the others, but it would have been nice for them to say goodbye. To have just one more moment where Dogma could pretend that his brothers cared and would miss him.
Jesse wouldn't have come. He'd made his feelings about Dogma perfectly clear. Kix was one of the few clones who needed to work when they stopped for leave, as he needed to make sure they were stocked up on medical supplies. He was too busy to spare a few minutes just to say goodbye to one clone.
Dogma had thought that Fives would be here though. He was all about loyalty, and caring about the brothers. He was probably too busy taking care of Tup, who clearly wasn't ready to say goodbye.
He'd thought that Hardcase would be here though. Maybe it had just slipped his mind. Or maybe he was just more interested in going out and having a good time with his vode.
Dogma had thought that he had cared, but maybe he'd just misinterpreted Hardcase's actions. Just because Hardcase didn't resent his company didn't mean that he actually wanted him around.
Everybody that Hardcase cared about was in the 501st, and as of today, that didn't include Dogma.
Rex gave him a gentle smile, and Dogma didn't know why it made his stomach twist.
"Are you ready to go?" Rex asked. Part of Dogma wanted to say no, he wasn't ready, because he didn't want to be alone. The bigger part of him was more than ready, because being alone was so much better than being lonely while surrounded by brothers.
He'd done his best to fit in with the 501st. To get to know his brothers, and open himself up to them. But it clearly hadn't been enough, and he didn't know what else he could do.
"Yes, Sir." Dogma said. He followed Captain Rex out of his office. He tried to focus, but it felt like in the blink of an eye he was stepping off the ship, and then a breath later they were walking down the streets, moving towards the guards barracks.
They didn't even enter the barracks themselves. A Commander with red paint, probably Fox, was right there waiting for them. He was wearing his helmet, and when Rex took his off, he didn't move to follow his example.
Dogma stood there, uncertain of what he was supposed to do. Should he follow his old Captain's example, or that of his new Commander? He stood there frozen, debating it while Fox and Rex addressed each other.
"You're here earlier than I thought." Fox said stiffly. Dogma could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard a clone use this professional, emotionless tone with another brother. It especially confused Dogma because he thought that Rex and Fox were vod.
Dogma jumped when he felt his Captain's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed he was standing half behind Rex until he was pulled forward to stand at his side.
"Dogma is eager to get to work." Rex said. While that was normally true, it definitely wasn't right now. He was nervous, and tired, and not at all ready for this. He felt like his unease was clear in his stance. Tup, and probably Kix and Hardcase, would know that something was wrong right away. Rex didn't.
Fox finally looked at Dogma, eyeing him critically. Dogma could feel his gaze even through their helmets.
"He doesn't look ready to me." Fox said. He didn't sound impressed. Dogma stiffened and pressed his hands tightly against his thighs so he wouldn't start tapping them anxiously. He hadn't even done anything yet, but he had already done something wrong.
Fox stared at Dogma for a long moment before he pulled at his datapad and pulled up something. "Sargent Dogma," He jolted when he heard his position of command. He knew he had been assigned as a Sargent on Kamino, but it had been brushed under the rug and seemingly forgotten about as soon as he'd joined the 501st. It was nice to hear his command be recognized.
Fox continued, still looking at the datapad. "Your records from Kamino are impressive enough, but there's not a lot of information about what you've done recently."
Dogma swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, Sir. I was only with the 501st for a few campaigns. I was still learning." He didn't think he'd said anything wrong. Everybody knew that it could take a while for clones to find their footing on the frontlines.
Fox slowly looked up from his datapad. He stared at Dogma for a long moment before his gaze shifted to Rex.
"A shiny, Captain?" Fox' voice was tinged with anger and slight disgust. "I specifically stated that I needed experienced men, and you send me a single shiny who isn't even old enough to be in the war at all."
Dogma felt both indignant and a little ashamed, though he knew he shouldn't. He may not be a shiny, but he was inexperienced, and his batch had left Kamino earlier than clones used to. The army was short on resources, including clones, so they had to send soldiers out before they had technically finished their training.
Of course Commander Fox didn't want a shiny. Nobody did. He worked in the heart of the Republic, protecting the very Senate. He didn't have the time to finish an inexperienced shiny's training.
Rex seemed more offended on Dogma's behalf than he was himself.
"He's one of my most loyal and hardworking men." Rex said. The words should make him feel proud, but all Dogma felt was more of that empty loneliness that had been plaguing him these past few days. How could Rex make such a claim when he didn't truly know him?
Fox didn't scoff. He was too professional for that. But he nearly did. "If the shiny's that impressive, you would have made a note of it in his files."
Dogma shifted ever so slightly. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt like they were fighting over him. Over who was going to be stuck with him, because, clearly, neither of them wanted him.
Dogma's ears were ringing, and he felt a little bit like he was drowning, feeling like he couldn't breathe without choking, and that the air was so thick that he wouldn't be able to move a single limb.
He knew why Fox didn't want him. It was nothing personal, and it was fine. Dogma wasn't a shiny, but as far as the commander was concerned, he might as well be. Dogma would just have to prove himself to him, just like all shinies did. No big deal.
But Rex knew him. He'd given Dogma a chance, and he'd done enough to prove that he was a good soldier. It wasn't his capabilities that were the problem. It was just Dogma.
He didn't fit in with the tight knit group of brothers that was Torrent Company, and even the whole 501st. He asked too many questions, but not the way the others did. Their questions showed individuality and initiative. His were just bad, and wrong, and he'd never been able to understand why.
He'd thought that Captain Rex had been fine with his questions, and his need for structure, and rules, and purpose. After all, Rex didn't tease him for asking why the general was breaking protocol, even though Fives and Hardcase did. Rex just patiently explained that sometimes they needed to adapt to situations, even if they didn't make sense.
Maybe Rex' patience had run out.
Was that why Dogma was here? Not because he was the best man for the guard, but because he was the worst for the 501st?
Why hadn't anybody told him? He could have improved. He could have learned to keep his mouth shut, and fit in more with the others, and relax more.
…except, he couldn't. He'd tried. He knew the others didn't think so, but he had tried. But it hadn't been enough, because this was who he was. He was stubborn, and a stickler, rule following, dogmatic Dogma.
Rex and Fox were still talking, arguing over him. He couldn't understand a word they were saying, and he hated himself for it, because if he couldn't even listen to his commanding officers, what was he good for?
Fox looked at him, and something in his stern stance softened. He brought his hand to his helmet, activating his communicator.
"Stone, we've got one of our new men out here." Fox said. "Yes, already. Why don't you see if you can get him started on the paints? I need to have a few words with the Captain."
A minute later another Corrie approached them. He also wore his helmet, though his posture was a bit more welcoming than Fox'.
"This is Commander Stone." Fox said, sounding much softer than he had this far. "He'll take care of you until I'm done and can show you the ropes. Just do as you're told, and you'll do just fine."
Dogma felt like he should be relieved that he would have an older brother taking care of him, even if it probably wasn't in the way he'd been craving lately. Or maybe he should be happy that right off the bat he was being told to follow orders.
All Dogma felt was numb, and it was just by instinct that he nodded and followed Stone inside. He didn't pay attention to where he was going. He just put one foot in front of the other as his thoughts spiraled deeper out of control.
He'd tried so hard to be the perfect little soldier, and what did it get him? Brothers who couldn't care less if he was there or not
Jesse thought he hated them. He couldn't see past the times that Dogma disagreed with them and rolled his eyes at their antics. He couldn't see that Dogma cared so much about them that it hurt, because he knew they didn't feel the same way.
They had their different ideas of fun. Jesse liked to drink and see who could best cheat at cards. Dogma liked to sit with his datapad or flimsi and read while cuddling up against a brother. They both invited each other to join them, but where Dogma at least considered the offer before politely refusing, Jesse would roll his eyes and walk away, not even giving a response.
But Dogma had seen Jesse willingly cuddle with the others and spend quiet time with them. It wasn't the activity he didn't like, it was Dogma.
Tup, at least, liked him. But maybe he shouldn't. Dogma had just held him back from getting close to the other clones. Dogma had made him cry, and then he'd just left him. Tup had other, better brothers who could take care of him. Like Fives.
Fives, who had said that Dogma would fit in with the guard. Fives, who expressed his hatred for the Corries any chance he was given. Fives, who could be friends with anyone, had, however indirectly, said that he hated Dogma.
And Tup, who had been right there at the time, hadn't said a word in his defense, and Dogma hated how hurt he felt by that. Tup had been crying at the time, and Dogma had left before he could have heard a potential response. Maybe Tup had defended him, but even if he hadn't, Dogma shouldn't expect him too. He'd had other things on his mind.
He was pretty sure that Kix and Hardcase didn't hate him, but that wasn't exactly a glowing review. He wasn't vod. Probably wasn't even their friend. He was just Dogma, and clearly Dogma wasn't someone worth fighting for.
"We don't fight in traditional battles, but that doesn't mean we don't fight for our lives every day." Stone's voice reached him. "Our armor is our shield. Not just for our bodies, but also our identities."
They went into the barracks, and finally Dogma saw Corries not wearing their helmets. Stone stepped over a sleeping pile of clones huddling close to each other. Dogma stayed where he was, staring at the cuddle pile. He hadn't seen one since he was a cadet.
"There was a vote in the Senate yesterday." Stone said as he stepped back over their brothers. He was carrying two paint buckets in his hands. "The senators are always stressed after a vote, and when they're stressed, well, it doesn't make our job easy."
Stone led him to the other side of the barracks. He set the paint down and then reached up and took his helmet off.
"I know it can seem cruel to make you repaint your armor so soon after you got here." Stone said. "But uniformity is your friend here. The sooner you can look like everybody else, the safer you'll be."
Dogma took off his helmet and stared at the blue on it. The design identified him as Dogma. The blue said he belonged to the 501st. People could take one look at him and know just who he was. He'd always seen it as reassuring, but now it just made his stomach ache.
The helmet slipped from his shaking hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to care. His armor suddenly felt too tight, like it was suffocating him. He scrambled to take it off. His breath quickened as his shaking fingers struggled to get some of his armor pieces off.
Finally he got his chest piece off and with a cry of frustration he let it fall to the ground. He could hear Stone's voice, but the sound was muffled and he couldn't understand what was being said, and he didn't care.
Breathing harshly, Dogma stared at the blue on his armor. He'd been so proud to paint it on there, but now it felt like it was taunting him. It was just a reminder of what he didn't have, and what he'd never had.
The 501st didn't want him. Dogma wasn't good enough for them.
There was a firm grip on his arm. "Kid, if you're not ready for new paint, we can wait a bit." Stone said. "Hey, do you have a name?" At this point, Stone was just looking for a response, but Dogma didn't have one for him.
Yes, he had a name. A name given to him by the other cadets who had hated him. A name he'd accepted as his own out of spite, and because he really did like it.
He was Dogma. But Dogma hadn't been good enough for the 501st. What if he wasn't good enough for the guard either?
He picked up the bucket of white paint and stared at the colorless liquid. A blank slate. A shiny. That was what Fox thought he was, but maybe that was better than being known as Dogma, whose very name made brothers say he had a stick up his butt.
Desperate for a new start, and to erase the blue that he thought he'd belonged to, Dogma tilted the bucket and let the white paint fall sloppily over the armor that he'd been so meticulous with.
The 501st's Dogma was gone.