Fox loved all of his brothers, but there were times when he wanted nothing more than to punch them in the face. Sometimes he wondered how horrible a person Jango Fett had to have been, because there was something about the clones that made them jerks who could be so oblivious about how mean they could be.
The boys in the GAR had always had it out for the Guard. Fox knew what they said about them. They were pencil pushers. Meat droids. Bootlickers and doormats to the senators they served. Fox wished they knew how bad things were in the Guard. At the same time, he didn't want them to know, because a part of him was scared that the brothers would just laugh that their taunts weren't that far off the mark. There really had been a few times where an especially cruel and vindictive senator would order one of the Guard to kneel or lay in front of them and clean off their dirty shoes, either by letting the senator wipe the mud onto their armor, or by cleaning the dirt off manually.
It was humiliating, and often painful work that usually ended with a careless kick to the face or chest. The kick itself wasn't what hurt, but the knowledge that they were seen as less than sentient was a sting that would last their whole lives.
Fox knew that the GAR weren't trying to be cruel. He knew they just didn't understand. He could take their cruel comments, but he hated how much it bothered his men. So many of the Guard had vode and batch mates that they still loved desperately. They spent all day being dehumanized by the senators, and when they commed their brothers or met them at 79's, looking for a little comfort, they were mocked and not taken seriously.
Fox had gotten used to checking in on the barracks, just to make sure all his men were present and accounted for, only to find a number of brothers crying. They were all overworked, tired, and stressed, but the most heartbroken cries were from those that had a bad interaction with a brother, and it happened far too often.
Fox just knew that his new transfer would cry himself to sleep tonight. So many of them did, and he'd looked so vulnerable and tense when he'd gone off with Stone. But this wasn't like all of those other times. All of the other transfers were homesick and scared of change. This soldier seemed almost hurt, and Fox intended to find out why.
He crossed his arms and looked at his brother. "How has the soldier been handling the news of the transfer?" He asked this not just to know his new guard's emotional state, but also how he reacted to change. Fox could work with what he was given, but it would be nice to have an idea going in.
"Honestly, I think he was excited." Rex said. He was completely at ease, as though he hadn't noticed how tense the shiny had been. "Dogma's been having a hard time serving under General Skywalker. I think he's eager to have some structure."
Well, that would be a new change of pace. Maybe Fox wouldn't have to work so hard to drill the rule's into this shiny's head, only for him to turn around and break every single one of them because he thought they were ridiculous. The Guard's rules were there for a reason. Unfortunately, most of their men had to learn that the hard way.
Fox almost wished that Dogma was upset about joining the guard, because that would explain his unease. If that wasn't where his discomfort was coming from, Fox had a bad feeling that something else had happened. Something that Rex, as his commanding officer, should know, but seemed in the dark about.
Fox wished he knew how his vod had broken a shiny when he only just got him.
"If he's not mad about joining the guard, would you mind telling me what, exactly, is wrong with him?" Fox practically growled. He hadn't ever been as fierce and blatantly defiant as Wolffe, but between all of them Fox thought that he came in a close second. He was in charge of the most worn-out group of clones in the war, and unlike those in the GAR, they didn't have a Jedi to watch out for them and speak on their behalf. The best they had was Fox, and he did his best to protect his men, and as of right now that included Dogma.
Rex looked shocked at the change in tone, which just frustrated Fox more. Ever since he'd been sent here he felt like his vode were surprised if he dared to show any emotion outside of his stoic professionalism. He knew that he was more serious than most of the other clones, but it was a necessity of the job. Maybe if his brothers stopped acting like it was the end of the world when he showed emotion, then he would dare to do it more.
"Nothing's wrong with him." Rex said. He sounded both defensive and confused. "He's a little stiff, but that's just how he is."
That didn't make Fox feel any better. He leaned closer to his brother, partially to really get the point cross, but mostly so he didn't risk being overheard. "You know as well as I do that we're not droids. If we're stiff and obedient, it's not because it was programmed into us. It's because something's wrong." Usually that something was as simple as them being on duty. Serving in the senate and fighting in the front lines required diligence and obedience. Walking up to the guard barracks didn't. Or, at least, it shouldn't.
"If Dogma is always 'stiff' then there's a reason for it." Fox said lowly. "I want to know what that reason is." Biologically, they were all supposed to be identical. There were a few mutations, but they were always strictly monitored by the Kaminoans. If something was different about Dogma in that sense, it would say so in his notes.
There was nothing wrong with being a little tense about the rules, like, according to Rex, Dogma was. But Fox wanted to know why. What experience had ingrained this trait so deeply into Dogma? And why didn't Rex realize the problem?
Rex's mouth thinned as he grew more frustrated. "What reason? He does what he's told, and he studies the regs so much he probably has the manuals shoved up his shebs. That doesn't mean it's a problem. Why are you acting like he needs a profound reason to take what the Kaminoans have to say a little too seriously?"
Rex didn't get it. How did he not get it? Fox had seen plenty of men who gravitated towards the rules, because they were familiar and safe. He also saw the men who clung to the rules like they were a lifeline, like something terrible would happen if they didn't follow the rules. Those were the men who had learned obedience the hard way.
Fox had seen very little of Dogma, and he hadn't had the chance to speak to him at all, but he could already tell that he was much more like the latter than the former. Considering Dogma had been with the 501st for such a short period of time, and Rex was oblivious, whatever had happened had to have been on Kamino.
Fox wanted to interrogate Rex about what was wrong with Dogma, but it was clear he would get nowhere with that conversation. That was fine. Fox would find out for himself, and in the meantime, he had another bone to pick with his brother.
"I hope you didn't talk to Dogma that way." Fox scowled. He had always thought that the GAR was too casual, and the 501st were some of the worst. If they weren't actively on the front lines, they were crude and immature, and apparently Rex wasn't above his men.
Rex looked offended at the very thought. "Of course not." He said defensively.
"But did you let someone else?" Fox was still wearing his helmet, but he raised his eyebrow anyways. Rex had been a little too quick to say something like that about his own man, and he seemed to see no problem with it, which meant that he was familiar with at least hearing such a thing.
"I didn't let anything happen." Rex said. Fox thought he sounded like a petulant child. "Fives and Jesse just teased Dogma sometimes. That was all it was. Innocent teasing."
Fox narrowed his eyes. "That excuse only works if Dogma was laughing with them." Fox understood dark humor, but if the person being teased wasn't in on the joke, it quickly went from brotherly ribbing to cruel bullying. Maybe Fives and Jesse couldn't tell the difference, and they just talked that way to everybody, but Fox was disappointed that Rex had allowed that to extend to a shiny who was too young to even be in the war. He was supposed to look after the kid, not throw him among the sharks.
And yet Rex had sent him to Coruscant.
Fox still couldn't believe it. The Guard was hell for anybody. There was a reason why he refused to request men from Kamino. Not only did he know that his request would be denied in the most patronizing way the Chancellor could manage, but he couldn't bear to be the one to snuff out the light in the kids' eyes. He couldn't destroy them like that.
Fox doubted that Dogma still had that optimistic spark that shinies had, but he was still so young. He was supposed to be protected by his more experienced brothers, not made fun of and shipped off to Coruscant.
"Where are the others?" Fox asked.
Rex sighed. "I told you, I can only spare one man right now, and-"
"I mean your men." Fox said. "Dogma's brothers. Why are you the only one here to see him off?"
Rex frowned. "I didn't think you would want a crowd."
No, he wouldn't, but that didn't matter. "Since when do you care about what I want?" Fox asked bluntly. Rex flinched and looked wounded and confused. Fox could'nt even be angry or guilty about the reaction. He was too tired of this mess.
"Fox, I-" Rex started, but Fox held his hand up. He didn't want to hear any excuses, or half-assed apologies. He'd hurt it all before, and it just made the pain worse.
"This isn't about me." Fox said. "Why aren't Dogma's brothers here to tell him goodbye and threaten me if I'm too mean to their baby brother?" He'd heard it all before. The sentimentality between batch mates never seemed to last, but it was almost always there at the start.
Rex looked a little concerned. It was about time. "I don't think Dogma invited anybody."
"Did he know he was allowed to though?" Fox asked.
"Allowed to?" Rex looked like he'd never heard something so ridiculous. "Why would he think he needs permission?"
Fox had forgotten how obtuse his brothers could be. He didn't know Dogma at all, and even he knew that the kid wouldn't do anything that could be remotely considered against the rules unless he was explicitly told that it was okay. From what Rex had said about him, one would think that he would know it too.
It would also explain why they were here so early. When there was a transfer, Fox arranged a day, but he had stopped giving a specific time, because the drop-off always happened late. His new men would spend all day with their vode. Drinking, messing around, and being a general headache. They would savor every moment together, and put off the transfer until the last minute.
But that wouldn't have crossed Dogma's mind. If he'd said something, Fox knew that Rex would have taken him to Dex's Diner himself, but Dogma hadn't thought it was his place. So they had come straight to work, just as they should.
Fox desperately wanted to tell Rex off, let him know just where the flaws in his thinking were, but his communicator went off before he could so much as open his mouth. He glared at Rex from behind his helmet and activated his comm. He could tell by the notification that it wasn't the Chancellor or a senator, but that didn't mean that it wasn't an emergency.
"Report." Fox said.
"Sir." He heard Stone's voice, and he sounded far too stressed for somebody who was giving a shiny a tour of the barracks. "We've got a bit of a situation here."
"What situation?" Fox asked shortly. He wasn't in the mood for beating around the bush.
"The shiny is…well, he's kinda lost it." Stone said. Fox shut his eyes. That had happened quickly. "I don't know what happened. One second he's still and barely responsive, and the next he's grabbing the white paint and dumping it on his armor."
Fox felt a shiver go down his spine. "He did what?" Armor was practically sacred to clones. It protected them, both physically and emotionally. It was their very identity. They always hesitated to touch up the white paint on their armor, because it always felt like they were erasing a part of themselves.
It was why nobody painted alone. And no matter how important uniform armor was in the Guard, they didn't force anybody to paint over their armor if they weren't ready. Sometimes they even let their new soldier borrow a red painted armor for a few days until they were ready to paint over their own set.
Fox didn't know if Dogma had intentionally dumped paint on his armor, or if he was so lost in his own head that it had been an accident. Either way, he was concerned about Dogma's emotional state.
"I'm on my way." Fox said. "Watch him." He closed the connection and turned his attention back to Rex.
"Duty calls?" Rex asked.
"Unfortunately." Fox considered asking Rex to come with him, as maybe Dogma would be more receptive to a familiar face. However, ultimately pushed that idea aside. If Rex hadn't noticed that something was wrong with Dogma before, maybe he wasn't the best to deal with him now.
That was fine. Fox knew how to handle his men. Even if this one was practically a stranger to him.
"I'll talk to you later." Fox said, though from experience he knew it would be a fair amount of time.
"Of course." Rex put his helmet on again. "Keep me updated on how Dogma's doing, alright?"
That made Fox pause. That wasn't something the others had asked, because the men they sent were older, and more emotionally developed. They would keep in touch with their old squad and commanders themselves. Fox wouldn't be surprised if Dogma didn't, and if Rex' request was sincere, then maybe he recognized it too.
"Alright." Fox agreed. He turned and walked back into the barracks. He kept his pace even until he was behind the safety of the walls, and then he picked up the pace as he walked quickly through the halls. He had no idea what state Dogma was in, but Stone wouldn't have asked for backup if it wasn't an emergency.
He went to the sleeping quarters. The room was full, but quiet. A few men were sleeping, but most of them were crowded to one side, not talking and distinctly not looking towards the other side of the room. The only sound in the room was harsh breathing and whispered assurances. Fox walked past his brothers to see Stone sitting on the ground, holding Dogma against his chest.
Dogma's body was both stiff and relaxed in the way that many of them got after an especially bad day. He was staring unblinking at the armor scattered on the floor in front of them. It looked like a paint bucket had been dropped on the pieces, leaving a very sloppy mess of white all over the armor and floor. The empty paint bucket was on its side, dripping paint out of it.
A very small part of Fox was annoyed that their white paint was gone. It took so much jumping through hoops to get more, and he would probably have to call in a favor that he'd been saving for an emergency. But this was an emergency. One of his men was panicking. He was hurting, and probably scared, and to Fox that was always the worst kind of emergency.
He knelt on the ground in front of his brothers, uncaring how he got paint on his took off his helmet and set it to the side. He reached out and put his hand on Dogma's face. When the other didn't flinch away or show a sign of discomfort, Fox increased the pressure and gently guided Dogma to turn his way and look at him.
"Hey, hey, look at me." Fox said quietly. "Do you think you can do that?"
Dogma blinked slowly and slowly lifted his gaze to look Fox in his eyes. They were glossy and dull, but at least he had at least some level of awareness, even if it was just enough to follow orders.
"Can you tell me your name?" Fox asked. In his experience, it was one of the quickest ways to cut through a clone's panic. No matter how far in their own mind they were, a clone was aware of and protective of their personal identity. Just having them say their own name could bring them back from a terrible spiral. If it didn't, then that was an indication that something was terribly wrong.
Fox didn't think Dogma had gotten that far, so he was surprised and horrified when, after a brief moment of hesitation, Dogma said "CT-6922."
No. No! Fox fought to keep his voice even to hide his own growing panic. "I don't want your designation, trooper. I want your name. What do we call you?" He knew that Dogma had a name, but there was a weird look in the shiny's eyes. It wasn't like the shame, frustration, and embarrassment that late-bloomers had when they were sent out before they settled on a name. The look in Dogma's eyes was fear and hesitation. He had a name, and they both knew it, but he didn't want to say it.
Dogma and Fox just stared at each other for a long moment before Dogma lowered his gaze and his head. "Call me what you want. Everyone else does." He was clearly trying to keep his voice calm and clear, and it wasn't a half bad attempt. Any senator would probably be fooled, but not a brother. Fox could hear the distress in his voice. And, of course, Dogma was still breathing hard, like he had just run a marathon.
Stone hissed between his teeth and tightened his grip on Dogma. "You don't have a name yet?"
Dogma grimaced, and Fox considered his options. He thought that Dogma was a fine name. A simple name to give people an immediate idea of what he was about. Many clones gave themselves that kind of name, because it was easy and personal. But he remembered what Rex had said, about the teasing. Fives and Jesse were far from the first clones to tease a brother for sticking to the rules. If Dogma had been like this on Kamino, he would probably have been teased for it there too.
Maybe he gave himself his name, but Fox thought it was more likely that someone else had started it, and it had stuck. Plenty of troopers got their name in such a way, usually leaning into it and reclaiming a taunt. But maybe Dogma didn't want that name anymore? Maybe he was scared of being teased the way he had been in the 501st.
Looking at the armor on the ground, white with specks of blue showing through, Fox thought that it was becoming more and more clear that Dogma was trying to erase the 501st from himself. Get rid of the blue. Get rid of his name. He would rather be a shiny again.
Fox had seen this type of thing once or twice before, and during his darkest and loneliest moments he had considered it himself. He'd daydreamed of painting his armor, faking his death, and slipping onto one of his brother's ships when they left Coruscant.
He wouldn't have to be cold, stick-in-the-mud Fox. He wouldn't have to be the heartless Commander who had the blood of his brothers on his hands. He wouldn't have to be the disliked, very nearly unloved vod. He could have a fresh start. A blank slate. A new chance to get to know his brothers and prove to them that he was someone worth liking.
He stayed with the Guard because it was his duty, and he knew that if he left then he really would be missed. He couldn't hurt his brothers like that. But did Dogma have the same incentives? Did he have brothers that he knew cared and would miss him? If not, then it was no wonder that he wanted to leave who he was behind.
Fox didn't like it. He didn't want any of his brothers to feel like they had to change who they were just to be loved. But he understood it. He understood it all too well. If this was what Dogma wanted, if it was what he needed, then Fox could help make it happen.
"What I want to call you is what you want to be called." Fox said gently. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Dogma's in a Keldabe Kiss. Dogma stiffened and his breath seemed to be caught completely in his throat. He was still for a long moment before he let out a shuddered breath.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, with Stone holding Dogma and Fox showing him some of the affection that they all deserved and couldn't afford to show. Finally, Dogma's breathing leveled out, and he slowly pulled away. Fox wasn't foolish enough to think that Dogma was okay now, but he was breathing, and there was some clarity in his eyes, so it was a step in the right direction. Now they just needed to figure out where they were going from here.
"Don't worry about your name right now." Fox said. "You have the rest of the day off to get settled. Why don't you think on it, and if you still don't know what you want to be called, we'll talk about it tomorrow." If Dogma truly wanted a different name, Fox would support it, but he didn't want the kid to be making any impulsive decisions when he was so upset. Not when it came to something so important.
"I-I want to work." Dogma said. "I don't want to think on…anything." He was far from the first clone that Fox knew who avoided unwanted thoughts by keeping himself busy. He understood it, but he didn't want to throw the kid into the hard work they faced every day. Not yet.
"I'll tell you what." Fox said. "I need to patrol the barracks, drunk tank, and prisons today, just to make sure everything's going well. Then I have to catch up on paperwork. Why don't you shadow me today? Get your bearings, and see what you'll be working with." It could hardly be considered work. This was technically Fox' day off. But these tasks would be perfect for a new Guard. Giving them an idea of what their life would be like without completely overwhelming them.
Dogma frowned. "I don't want to distract you from your work, Sir."
Stone chuckled. "Trust me, vod'ika, Fox will probably focus better if he has someone keeping him on task." Fox hated that his brother had a point. Fox was a hard worker, but his shifts were impossibly long and exhausting. After being on his feet for nine hours, he would start to lean against the walls when he thought nobody was watching him. If he was among others, he forced himself past his exhaustion, because he just couldn't afford to let it be known how weak he really was.
Dogma blinked and looked at Stone like he'd just started speaking an alien language. "V-vod'ika?"
Fox gave Stone an unimpressed look. His brother knew that the Guard and GAR had different philosophies about what it meant to be vod. For the GAR, who were surrounded by thousands of brothers at a time, the term vod was reserved for those they were closest to. For the Guard, who were isolated from the rest of the troopers, and constantly belittled and dehumanized, they saw each other as vode.
Even if two Guards were complete strangers, and they didn't even know each other's names, they would still protect each other from a senator's wrath, and they wouldn't hesitate to suggest a cuddle pile when they got back to barracks. They were vode, because in the Guard all they had was each other.
It was something that all Guards learned sooner rather than later, but this wasn't the way that Fox had wanted to ease Dogma into it. It could be very jarring to go from being constantly teased by brothers to being called vod by total strangers who didn't even know your name.
"Come on." Fox stood up and held a hand out to Dogma, who didn't hesitate to take it. "The barracks aren't going to patrol themselves."
"But…the paint." Dogma looked at his armor on the floor. "I made a mess."
"I don't know anybody who hasn't made a mess when painting." Stone said. "I'll take care of this."
"You can borrow some armor for today." Fox said. "Stone can touch up the white, and tonight we'll do your red, if you're up for it." Dogma didn't look convinced, but when Fox started to head towards the doors, he followed him, because that was what he had been told to do.
Fox' chest tightened as he slowed his steps to encourage Dogma to walk side by side with him, rather than a few steps behind. He kept a close eye on all of the troopers under his care, but he could already tell that Dogma would need an especially watchful eye. Somebody had to look out for him. Fortunately, that was what the Guard was best at.