Dogma felt uncertain about following Commander Fox on his rounds, but he didn't let it show. He had his orders. He had a job to do. His own uncertainty didn't matter, and it was all too simple to push it to the back of his mind as he fulfilled his duties.
His brothers had all teased him for so easily being able to compartmentalize when he was given direction, but even Fives couldn't argue that he got results.
The armor that Dogma borrowed didn't fit exactly right. As much as he didn't like it, he was a little younger than most troopers, and while he wasn't exactly skinny, he didn't have as much muscle mass as his older, more experienced brothers did. They may be clones, but they all had slightly different bodies. That was why their armor was custom made for every one of them. They could temporarily make do with others, but they all felt most comfortable in their own.
Dogma couldn't complain though, because it was his own fault that his own armor was unavailable. So he kept his mouth shut, donned the ever so slightly too big helmet, and followed Fox out of the barracks.
"We don't do things the same way as they do in the GAR." Fox said as they walked down the streets of Coruscant. "There are a lot of extra rules we have besides the usual regulations."
Dogma nodded. All the legions had their own set of rules. It made sense that the guard would as well. As long as none of them contradicted the general regulations that they'd all been taught since they were cadets, Dogma would have no complaints.
"You'll learn the rules as you go, and we'll take care of you while you figure it out." Fox said. "That's the first rule. We look out for each other, no matter what. If a brother is hurt or sick and can't make it to their shift, any of us would take it, even if it's on our only day off of the month. And then, of course, if you take on an extra shift, someone else will take care of you afterwards. That's how it works."
Dogma nodded. It sounded reasonable enough, and not that far off from what he'd seen brothers do for each other.
"That rule is for our sanity." Fox said. "Most of the rules are for our safety, and those are the ones that you need to follow no matter what, or you're going to have a very bad time. Even if they don't make sense. Even if you don't like them. I ask that you trust that I know what I'm doing, and I have these rules for a reason."
"Yes, sir." Dogma straightened his back. This was familiar territory for him. If there was one thing he knew, it was following orders. It was what he'd been trained for.
Fox turned his head slightly in his direction, but he immediately faced forward again. "The rule that's both easiest and hardest is that while on Coruscant, no clone can be alone. The only exception is the commanders of the guard, and even then it's only when it's an emergency. Every shift, you will be assigned a buddy. You're not to leave their side until you're back in the barracks."
This one made a little bit less sense. On Kamino, they had been taught how to hold their own and take care of themselves, and how to work in groups both large and small. But the Kaminoans hadn't given a lot of focus on them working with just a single brother, because they hadn't thought it would come up very much.
The guard was understaffed, so it was probably impractical to assign groups of five to each patrol, but why was a pair needed? The guard protected the streets of Coruscant, and they looked out for the senate. Simple patrols could be done easily by an individual, who could just call for back-up if something happened.
But there was nothing in this rule that was against regulations. It could possibly be a waste of resources, a topic which the regs covered extensively, but Dogma wouldn't know if that was the case until he had seen the workings for himself.
Just going off of the knowledge he had, there was nothing wrong with Fox' rule, so Dogma brushed aside his confusion and nodded.
Fox looked at him more directly. Dogma felt like he was being studied. "When I mean no clone is to be alone, I mean it. You take your breaks together. You go to the refresher together. If one of you gets injured when dealing with a criminal, you will call for backup to handle the perp, and you will stay with your buddy."
Dogma's eyebrow twitched. That was pushing it. They were supposed to put their duty above their personal feelings and relations. Fox' rule went against that.
"Why couldn't the uninjured clone go on with their job while backup takes care of the hurt trooper?" Dogma couldn't help but ask. He knew he was making a bad first impression on his new commander, but he couldn't keep the question in. It went against everything he had been taught.
Fortunately, Fox didn't seem upset about the question. For some reason, he seemed to relax slightly about it. "We tried it that way for a bit, but this works best." Fox said. "Look at it this way. Is it better for the guard to lose track of a single petty thief who is barely worth arresting? Or for us to risk losing a man on the field, making us even more understaffed than before?"
Dogma didn't think it was fair for Fox to compare a best case scenario against a worst case scenario, but he said nothing, because he thought he understood. And if Fox had tried it the recommended way first, and he found this way more efficient, then maybe he had a point.
And Dogma appreciated that Fox had actually answered his question, and he hadn't mocked him for asking it in the first place. The answer wasn't completely satisfactory, but Dogma was used to his questions barely being acknowledged, or for them to be mocked. This change of pace was nice, and it made a warm feeling grow in Dogma's chest.
"I'll trust your judgement, Sir." Dogma said. It was his go-to response when he disagreed with a superior about something, but was willing to relent that they may know better than him. Fox tilted his head ever so slightly at him, but it was difficult to tell if it was a nod of approval, or a glare of disapproval.
Fox was quiet for a long moment, like he was waiting for something. When it didn't happen, he continued. "When I said that no clone is allowed on Coruscant alone, I meant no clone, including those in the GAR. If, while you're on patrol, you come across a lone brother, keep an eye on him. Take him to the drunk tank, or to the barracks, or have him call someone to pick him up, and wait with him until they do. I'm serious when I say that these rules are important. Coruscant isn't a clone-friendly place. I had to find that out the hard way, and I'd rather not subject the GAR to that knowledge."
Dogma nodded in understanding. The Kaminoans had held a similar mindset when it came to cadets. They were taught about their duties and obligations, but rarely did their trainers mention the horrors of war. Dogma imagined if they had, there would have been a lot more deserters.
"Sometimes it's necessary to keep information on a need-to-know basis." Dogma commented.
"That's certainly a mindset that many senators share." Fox said. His tone sounded both cynical and amused. "Speaking of senators, we have a whole set of protocols in place for dealing with them."
Dogma straightened, paying close attention. He liked protocols. They were like rules with action attached to them.
"The senators serve the Republic." Fox said. "Part of our job is to keep them safe so they can continue to serve, but a larger part of it is that it's our duty to keep the senators happy. We serve them, they serve the senate, and the senate serves the Republic."
"That's what they said on Kamino." Dogma said. It had been practically word for word. Fox's shoulders stiffened and he looked unnerved. Dogma gave him a confused and concerned look, but he didn't ask his Commander if he was okay. That was not his place. Fox quickly recovered, and his gait returned to normal.
"Yes, well, sometimes the senators ask for things that are…unconventional." Fox said. "And unless it compromises the security of the Republic, we need to obey. Even if we don't like it, it's not our place to argue or complain. We are loyal servants to the Republic and the senators."
Dogma agreed. It was literally what they had been created for. But he was a little uncomfortable with how uncomfortable Fox sounded. The tone was subtle, and Dogma would easily be able to convince himself that he was just imagining it, but it sounded like there was a tiredness in Fox' tone. Like he didn't like what he was saying, but he knew it was true, and he knew he couldn't fight it.
Dogma frowned slightly as he remembered Fox' first rule. "What if a senator asks to be alone with a clone?"
Fox stopped walking. Dogma stopped as well, giving Fox a questioning look. The Commander said nothing. Finally he continued walking, at a quicker pace this time. Feeling like he had done something wrong, but not knowing what it could have been, Dogma followed behind him, a little further back than before. Not another word was said between them for a few minutes until they came to a guard station. Dogma could hear the ruckus from a bar a few streets down.
Fox brought him inside, and it was clear that this was the drunk tank. He saw four guards sitting in a small office, working on paperwork and not looking the least bit bored. There were seven other clones on the other side of the room, behind some bars of a cheap looking cell. They were from different garrisons, and Dogma was glad to not see the blue of the 501st. Two of the clones in the cell were sleeping, and the other five were grumbling or cursing out the guards, who were doing a good job at ignoring them.
As soon as Fox came in, the complaints were all directed at him. They were talking over each other so much that Dogma couldn't understand what they were saying. Their intentions were clear though. It made Dogma uncomfortable, but Fox acted like he hadn't heard them. He had more professionalism than Dogma thought he could manage right now.
Fox didn't even glance towards the clones in the cell. He looked at the guards. "Is anyone in the back room?"
"No, Sir." One of the guards said. Fox nodded.
"I'll hear a report in a minute." Fox said. He continued to a door in the back, and Dogma followed him. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Fox took his helmet off, setting it aside.
"We're stricter here about our uniforms than the GAR. This room, the barracks, and two closets in the senate building are the only places where privacy is guaranteed and we're allowed to show our faces." Fox said. He looked at Dogma, and he looked just as sad and tired as he had in the barracks.
Dogma frowned and took off his own helmet. It was useful to know where he was allowed out of uniform, but he didn't understand why Fox had brought him back here.
Fox sighed and sat down on an uncomfortable looking couch that was full of torn pillows and even a thin blanket. He gestured for Dogma to join him, which he did reluctantly.
"Why are we in here, Sir?" Dogma asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
Fox closed his eyes and took in a long, slow breath. It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he was wearing his helmet, but without it his feelings were clear. Had Fox come to rely so much on his helmet that he forgot to wear a mask without it?
"You're not in trouble." Fox said, which wasn't an answer to Dogma's question.
"Do you know why a senator might ask for one-on-one time with a clone?" Fox asked. His tone was calm and professional, but the concern and fear in his eyes couldn't be more obvious.
"Of course." Dogma said. He could practically hear the Kaminoans voices in his head. "Sometimes they require services that may raise a few eyebrows should the public learn what happens behind closed doors. Senators and Jedi are entitled to their privacy."
Fox' eyes flashed. He leaned forward. "Who said anything about the Jedi?"
Dogma blinked. Why did Fox sound so upset? "Well, we serve the Republic, but we serve under the Jedi. We have to do what they say, because they're our bosses." Even in Coruscant, where they didn't have a singular general that they served under, Dogma knew that they were subject to the will of the council.
Fox looked like he didn't know whether he was angry or horrified. "Did your general ever do something to you?"
Dogma couldn't help but make a face at the thought. "No, of course not. General Skywalker would probably hunt down anybody that he thought had done anything to any of us." Dogma still had a hard time believing that, should he have gotten lost or captured while serving under him, General Skywalker probably would have gone after him himself. Not because of Dogma, but because he cared about all of his men, just because he saw them as his responsibility, and he took that responsibility very seriously.
A part of Dogma wondered if he still fell into that category. If he needed help, and General Skywalker could do something about it, would he? Would he even know that Dogma had been one of his? Or did he not count now that he wasn't with the 501st? Dogma didn't really like to think about it.
Fox relaxed, though not by much. "If you didn't experience it personally, where did you learn about what the senators, and apparently the Jedi, might require from us?"
"On Kamino." Dogma said. He couldn't remember the specifics of when he'd learned this particular lesson, or which instructor had taught him, but the lessons had stuck, just as all that he'd learned on Kamino had.
Fox stared at him for a moment. He seemed to be debating something. Finally, he spoke in a slow, quiet tone that matched his vulnerable expression. "I know I don't know you well, and maybe I'm out of line, but I'm just concerned. When you were on Kamino, were you ever reconditioned?"
Dogma flinched as though he'd been dealt a physical blow. Fives and Jesse used to say that kind of thing. They were just teasing, and it was far from the most insulting thing that Dogma had heard. It had just annoyed him. But Kix had been absolutely infuriated about it. Dogma had always thought that Kix was defensive because he had wondered about the same thing.
It was confusing for Dogma. In the GAR, everybody knew that reconditioning was a myth. Just another way for brothers to tease those who were different in one way or another. And yet Kix had been convinced that something was wrong. That Dogma was only the way he was because it was how the Kaminoans had programmed him to be.
And now Commander Fox was wondering the same thing. He hadn't even known Dogma for a day, and already he thought there was something wrong with him. That he had been broken by the Kaminoans.
A part of Dogma appreciated their concern. It was certainly better than the teasing. At the same time though, it almost hurt more. They were concerned because they cared, but Dogma wondered how much someone could care about him if they thought he would be better if they could just figure out how to fix him.
"Reconditioning doesn't exist." Dogma insisted. His tone came out much calmer than he felt. "And if it did, I didn't undergo it. I didn't change personality overnight, or get in trouble with the Kaminoans and underwent life-changing punishment." He'd heard all the stories about what Reconditioning was and why it happened, and none of it applied to him. "I've always been like this, as far back as I can remember. All of my records from Kamino will tell you so."
Now Fox was the one who looked like he'd been hit. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"I'm not offended." Dogma said, and it was the truth. There was a sharp pain in his chest, but hurt wasn't the same thing as offense. "I just don't know why brothers feel the need to come up with an excuse to not like me. I don't care if someone doesn't like me. There are plenty of people I don't like. But…" Dogma blinked, hating the way his eyes itched with tears. He'd thought he was done with these for the day. He wished he was still wearing his helmet.
"It just hurts a lot more if there's an excuse." Dogma said quietly. He didn't want to talk to Fox about this. He wanted to talk to Tup, or Kix, or even Hardcase. But none of them would want to hear it. Dogma felt like Fox did. "Like oh, I like Dogma, but this. Or maybe people would like you if you'd just that. Like it's my fault if my brothers can't stand me."
He looked at the ground, refusing to meet Fox' gaze. He didn't want to see the pity or guilt in his eyes. "I wasn't reconditioned, but that doesn't mean I can help who I am."
"You don't have to change who you are." Fox said quietly. "And anybody who asks you to is a di'kut, and that includes our brothers and the Kaminoans." He sighed. "I don't think you're broken, or that there's something wrong with you. That wasn't what I meant. I'm just concerned. I've seen far too many brothers get hurt before."
Dogma frowned. "But I wasn't hurt." General Skywalker had been confusing and frustrating, and the Kaminoans had been cold and harsh, but he didn't think any of them had been cruel to him. General Skywalker had taken him into his battalion, despite his age. The Kaminoans had taken notice of Dogma's interest in the rules and structures, and they had offered him additional lessons and extra training, just so he could learn more of what he was already obsessed with. Dogma was given opportunities that most other clones didn't get.
It had been hard, and painful sometimes, but it was what he had wanted.
Fox didn't look convinced, but he didn't try to tell Dogma that he was wrong about himself. He didn't try to persuade him, or ask about instances where Dogma might have not thought he'd been hurt, but he actually had been. At least for now, Fox took him at his word, and Dogma couldn't be more grateful.
"So you have an idea of what to expect from the senators." Fox said stiffly as he awkwardly pulled the conversation back on track. "I still don't want you, or anybody, to experience it. Should a senator, or a jedi, or anybody, come to you and your buddy and try to get one of you alone, comm one of the guard commanders."
"You can't disobey direct orders, but you can stall doing them. If possible, stall until one of us comes. We'll take care of the situation." Fox said. "If we don't get there in time, just hold on until help arrives or you're dismissed. Then we'll take care of you."
Dogma swallowed thickly. "How often do the senators-"
"Not too often." Fox said quickly. "But far more than I would like. The fact that this happens at all, and there's nothing I can do about it…" Fox sighed. Dogma lifted his head and looked at him. He looked years older. It was easy to see just how much of a toll this job was taking on him.
Fox took a moment to gather himself, and then he sighed and steeled his expression. It seemed he was more than capable of hiding away his emotions. He had just let himself be more vulnerable, opening himself up to Dogma. It was a very meaningful gesture.
"I'm not trying to scare you away from this job, but I need you to take it seriously." Fox said. He stood up, adjusting his armor. "The rules are there to protect us, and we'll make sure you learn as you go."
It seemed that now that Fox' fears about Dogma being hurt had been put to rest, at least for now, their conversation was over. There wasn't time to chat, and Dogma was fine with that. It was time to get back to work. The two of them put their helmets back on, squared their shoulders, and left the room with no sign from either of them that anything was wrong.
"Slow day today?" Fox asked his men.
"It's still early." One of the guard said.
"I heard the 501st is on Coruscant tonight." Another said. Dogma held back his flinch. "You know how it gets when they get with the 212th."
"We should make sure there's room for an influx." Fox said. He looked at the cell. "Have you contacted their commanding officers to pick them up?"
There was a brief, barely noticeable moment of hesitation before one of the guards spoke up. "Commander Gree is on his way now. Commander Cody said that he knows more will be in before the day's out, and he'd rather get them all at once, so he told us to let them stew and keep them out of trouble."
Fox nodded. "And what of the others?" He gestured to the three clones with grey paint.
"When we commed Commander Wolffe, we didn't know he was with his general at the time." A guard said. "General Koon said that because this was the fifth time these men had been brought in, he wanted to retrieve them personally." His voice was casual and easy, but Dogma could see how tense all of the guard, including Fox, were. It was subtle, but still there.
"Is the general coming to reprimand his men, or to get at you for singling them out?" Fox asked.
"Unclear, sir."
Fox nodded. "Right. Initiate Jedi Protocol, just in case." The four guards saluted, making the clones in the cell scoff.
"You Corries are so paranoid." One of them said. Fox didn't bother to respond, but Dogma was fed up. The guard were just doing their jobs, and their brothers were doing nothing but getting mad at them for it. Dogma realized just what the back room was for. If one of the guards on shift was overwhelmed by the constant verbal abuse, they could have a place to escape to and collect themselves without being mocked more for it.
Dogma thought he could work this shift fine and ignore the words of the other clones, unless anybody in the cell came from the 501st. He wouldn't be able to bear being torn down like that by them. What if one of these guards had originally been assigned to one of these battalions, and these clones were tearing down their brothers, and they didn't even know it.
Or worse, what if they did know it, and they didn't even care?
Dogma knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he felt like he was facing Fives or Jesse all over again, and he'd never been able to just roll over and take it from them.
"Better to be paranoid than dead." Dogma said. Fox put a hand on his shoulder, though it wasn't clear if it was a reprimand or a show of support. The clones in the cell couldn't seem to care less about his words, but the other guards were not giving him their full attention.
"New kid, huh?" One of the guards said. "I like you already."
Dogma pursed his lips as he felt his face grow warm. He was grateful for the helmet at that moment. He knew he wasn't liked by many people, so it was strange to hear a total stranger say that they liked him. Had he actually managed to make a good first impression for once? He didn't even know what he did.
"What's your name?" Another guard asked. And Dogma froze, because he didn't know how he was supposed to answer that. He didn't know if he wanted to share his name with the guard. He didn't think he wanted another name, because he couldn't imagine another that felt as right as Dogma did.
He may have been given his name in jest by some of the other cadets, who had constantly teased him for being such a stickler for the rules. He had hated the name at first, but then one of their instructors, a stern Kaminoan, had heard the nickname, and he'd approved of it. He'd punished the other boys for teasing, because they were supposed to be better than to pick petty fights, but the instructor had also said that the name had suited him.
The instructor had even called him Dogma a few times, when he did especially well in his classes. The Kaminoans didn't like to use their chosen names, and they discouraged anything that resembled individuality. To have even a Kaminoan acknowledge him by his name had been special.
He'd earned his name. How was he supposed to choose another? But at the same time, how could he bear to hear another set of brothers say his name with as much resentment and annoyance as they'd had in the 501st? This was supposed to be a new start for Dogma. And even if the guard accepted and embraced him, odd name and all, Dogma would bet that the troopers in the cell wouldn't be as accepting.
They would laugh. Or roll their eyes. They would joke about how he was made for the guard, and not mean it in a good way. They would decide, based just on his name, that he was just a meat droid. One of the Kaminoan's perfect little experiments.
Dogma was quiet in his uncertainty, until one of the guards saved him. "Hey, it's okay, vod'ika. If you don't want to tell us. Or if you don't want to tell them," He gestured towards the clones in the cell. "You don't have to."
"We don't judge." The guard that had said that he liked Dogma added. "When I get off, I can tell you my own embarrassing name story. I bet it will make anything you have seem like a masterpiece."
Dogma smiled. He didn't know the guard, and they didn't know him, but they talked to him like he belonged. They called him vod'ika. They opened themselves up to vulnerability and humiliation, and they were willing to lower their face of professionalism to try to put him more at ease. Dogma doubted the guards were supposed to talk this casually while on duty. Especially when they were expecting a Jedi to come by any minute now. They were bending, but not breaking, the rules for him.
It shouldn't feel nice. He should hate it, and feel like it was insulting and condescending, but it actually felt kinda good. To have brothers who wouldn't go against the rules or regulations for just anything, and yet to look past them for his sake, it felt amazing.
Dogma was reminded when he'd been with the 501st and made his own gestures like this. Like the time when Hardcase couldn't sleep, because his mind was too active and full of energy, and Dogma had snuck out with him to spar in the gym, even though it was after curfew. Or the time when Jesse got hurt because of his own recklessness, and he was receiving no sympathy from Kix. Dogma had brought some of Jesse's favorite pudding into the medbay, even though Kix had explicitly forbidden it.
Instances like that had left Dogma feeling anxious and terrible, because he knew he was doing something wrong, and his good intentions couldn't counteract that. He'd been scared of getting caught, and he felt guilty for breaking the rules, even if he didn't regret helping his brothers. Dogma didn't think that the others knew how hard it was for him to make just a simple gesture. Not that he did it to be appreciated, but it was still hard sometimes.
But now Dogma understood how Fox and the guards might be feeling, and the knowledge of their potential sacrifice for him made him feel lighter and safe.
Maybe Fives was right for once. Maybe he really would thrive with the guard. Maybe this was where he belonged.