The Accused

Author's Note: This fic is for the Anakin Rarepair Week and is a gift for twilightabyss on ao3. :)

~ Amina Gila

Fox wakes up to the sensation of fingers stroking through his curly hair and the dull throb of a migraine in the back of his head. A small groan escapes, and he opens his eyes slowly as his awareness returns.

The room is dark.

No, the cell is dark, and he lets out a breath of resignation.

Right.

"You're awake," whispers Senator Skywalker.

Fox grunts an affirmative. It all comes back to him now. His patrol in the Underworld that ended when he blacked out. Waking up back in his barracks with his mind hazy, and a headache threatening to split his head in two. Being arrested by his own brothers later that day and accused of murdering one of Chancellor Palpatine's aides.

He has no idea if he did it or not. He doesn't just kill randomly. He wouldn't shoot a civilian, and certainly not a politician. Or someone close to a politician, much less someone close to the Chancellor. He's not stupid. He knows how to make bodies disappear. He gives out orders to eliminate or arrest the leaders of anti-war protestors when he's told to. He is not proud that the Guard have to assassinate people sometimes, but this is war, as the Chancellor tells him repeatedly. They can't afford to be picky, and sometimes, they can't take the chance of someone causing even more unrest than there already is.

They're always off-the-books missions. Things he never files reports for.

He knows better than to open his mouth about it. He's only a clone, and he'll be next if he rubs a politician the wrong way.

Apparently, that day is today.

"Why're you here?" he mutters, not pulling away from his Senator.

He hates politicians as a general rule of thumb. Their stuck-up attitude and superiority complex only guarantee that he and his brothers will only be looked at as objects. He's used to it, but he still hates it. There are some exceptions, of course, and Anika is at the top of the list.

"They want to send you back to Kamino," she tells him grimly. "For… reconditioning."

Fox tries not to flinch, but he can't stop the instinctive twitch at the word. Anika might not be a Jedi, but she has the Force, and he can see the way her expression darkens when she feels whatever emotions he's broadcasting.

"I'm not letting that happen," she vows fiercely. "We're going to get to the bottom of this and find out what really happened."

"How–" he starts and then pauses. "… we?"

"Of course," she answers as though it's obvious. "You're not being held in the Coruscant prison. You're in a holding cell in the barracks. Your brothers will cover for us. We need to retrace your steps."

Fox reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We're going to the murder site," he realizes. Why is he even surprised? This is a bad idea on so many levels, and yet, he already knows that he'll go with her. He needs to clear his name. He doesn't want to leave all his brothers here unprotected. Coruscant is a minefield and handling politics is a lot harder than fighting droids.

"Yeah," she replies, stroking through his hair one final time before pulling away.

Fox misses her touch, and he also misses the moments they got to themselves even more. Staying her apartment was a luxury, but he – and she – both preferred his room in the clones' barracks. It's simpler, less ornate. It's the kind of place they are both accustomed to.

Still, he's a soldier, and he knows how to savor a stolen moment of comfort and then move on when it ends. He pushes himself upright, grimacing as pain lances through his skull.

"Careful," Anika cautions. "The medic said you might have a concussion."

"I don't even know what happened down there," he admits. It's not the first time he's said it, but while the Senate hadn't accepted it, he knows Anika will.

"Yes," she replies slowly, "that's why you need to be careful."

A brief wave of dizziness washes over him, but it passes, so he probably doesn't need to worry. True to her word, the clones let him go, saluting both of them as they exit. They stop long enough for Fox to pick up armor. It's not his own. It's standard Guard armor. No use in sticking out and announcing to everyone who sees that he's not in the cell that he's supposed to be in.

"Do you think I'm being framed?" Fox asks as they climb into the speeder. Anika fires up the engine, flying away from the barracks and taking them down into the Underworld. It gets darker the deeper they go. Somehow, that seems fitting.

"I don't know," she admits, "but something strange is happening here." Her fingers tap absently on the controls. "You were knocked out. Somehow. And I'd like to know who could sneak up on a well-trained commander. It can't be just anyone."

"Maybe I was drugged," he says doubtfully.

The Senator shakes her head. "No. They did bloodwork. You have some concussion symptoms. You suffered some type of trauma to your head."

Which leaves them at square one.

Admittedly, Fox feels unreasonably anxious. Knowing that someone snuck up on him is disquieting. Moreso that he can't remember any of what led to it. It happens sometimes from head traumas, but he – he thinks he was doing something important. Something that he ought to remember. Something…

But it eludes him, his headache throbbing worse when he pushes.

"Don't rush it," Anika cautions, reaching out to touch his arm. "You'll remember when you do."

Of course, there are other ways to manipulate the mind, and that only makes him more anxious, a million what-ifs buzzing through his head. He trusts Anika, but he also knows that she can't protect him from everything, even if she likes to think that she can.

They land deep in the Underworld of Coruscant, and Fox feels his heart flip a bit when he recognizes the area. He knows what level the murder happened on, but he hadn't realized it was this part of the level.

"They already swept it for evidence, but it doesn't hurt to look twice. It's several blocks from here," Anika tells him, and he can feel her eyes boring into him, though he doesn't look back. "We can go in on foot. Do you– do you remember anything?"

Fox takes a slow breath. "I know the level," he admits, swallowing. His throat is dry. He wishes he could remember what happened. "I–" But does it matter if she knows? They need to find out what happened. "The network," he elaborates. "I have a contact."

He glances sideways in time to see her eyes widening, a silent 'oh' on her lips.

The network. After they grew closer and Anika realized how oppressive the clones' situation truly was, she insisted on beginning a network to get out the clones who wanted to leave. Sure, there might not be a lot, but there are certainly some, and with Anika's help, they have been able to quietly extract them.

The key to freeing slaves – or clones, as Fox has learned, is not keeping it secret. It's inevitable that it will come out, and for anyone to know it's an option, they all need to know about it. No, the key is keeping the network spread out, so that if one person is found and taken out, they cannot give away the parts of the network they do not know.

They each have their own contacts to whom they can reach out, and that means if he is discovered or if Anika is instead, the movement will continue.

"Let's go to the site," she suggests, taking his hand in hers. He links their fingers together, aware that they might draw some looks, but equally uncaring. He can feel the edges of a memory brushing his consciousness, and it terrifies him. He can feel the fear and anger, even though he doesn't know why. He doesn't remember what happened.

She stops near a seemingly random cantina. It's small, filthy on the outside, but that's not unusual in this level of Coruscant. He can almost feel the vibrations of music without entering. Nothing about this place stands out to him, and he frowns. "Why would the Chancellor's aide have been at a place like this?"

There are many cantinas, and brothels too, in the upper levels. There's no reason why any politician or someone connected to the Senate would have come down here for a drink. Drugs maybe? Perhaps spice or one of the many other highly addictive substances that are available. Or perhaps a gambling addiction? Or maybe it's something else entirely.

Something flashes through his mind, a memory rising to demand his attention.

"Chip," he remembers suddenly, looking around. "There was a clone. I think– I think his name was Chip. A shiny. Lost his squad on the first mission, and he needed out. I brought him down here. He was supposed to get papers and leave on the first transport."

"Mm. And then what happened?" she asks. "Your contact sold you out, or…?"

Fox shakes his head, trying to trace the memory. "No. I…" He licks his lips, head pounding worse as he tries to force it. "I think he made it."

But there's something there, something that fills him with fear and a violent, protective anger, and he knows it's connected to the work he's been doing even if he can't place how.

"You know this area better than me," Anika says. "Should we ask around in here, or should we check in with your contact first? Maybe they'll have more for us?"

Fox considers it for a moment. "My contact might have something," he answers finally. "Some leads if nothing else. If– if this incident was at all connected with the clones or the network, they'll know."

Or so he can hope.

If they don't find something, and fast, then it'll be over for him. All of this will be over. He doesn't want to face reconditioning any more than he wants to face the reality that Anika and the Guard will lose him forever. The clones need him. He can't afford to disappear.

"This way," Fox tells her, tugging her hand and leading her further down the street. It's easy to fall in step with the rest of the civilians, ignoring the way some stop to look at him because of his armor, whether in fear or in hatred. It's obvious he's a clone, and they're not so far down that the people are mostly unaware of them.

They stop in front of an ordinary-looking shop. Nothing sets it apart from the many others along this street, and that's exactly why the network has lasted. Despite the many who hate the clones, there are still others who are sympathetic to them, and more still who don't care either way. Not everyone who is working with the movement is trustworthy. Some are only in it for the money, but so long as everyone gets paid, it works.

Despite the corruption in the Senate, among the people of the Republic, there are still those who… care. There are still those who believe in freedom and justice and who will therefore help the clones that need it.

They go in to speak to the contact together.

"Got someone else already?" asks the Zabrak as he ushers them to the back of the shop. "There's no transports yet."

"No, I have a question," Fox replies, taking a breath to bolster himself. "What happened the last time I was down here?"

The man startles, something wary flickering across his face. "Why are you asking?"

"I don't remember," Fox admits, and he knows it's risky to confess something like this to someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, but he trusts the man to get runaway clones to safety, and even if he's a natborn, he doesn't consider the clones to be lesser. "I was accused of– murder, but I sustained a head injury, so I don't…"

Another hesitation that Anika notes. "You're not in trouble," she promises, stepping forward. "We need to know if you have any leads for us."

"Alright, I'll tell you," the Zabrak says. "I got nothing to hide anyway." He blows out a breath. "I got your clone out like you asked," he continues. "Heard some talk about… sales happening in the back of the cantina down this level. Coruscant might be part of the Republic, but the Senate never looks too closely at black market dealings. The further down you go, the easier it gets to buy sentients. There were whispers about… clones. Captured on the battlefield. Patched up and shipped to whoever bid the highest. That's all I know. What you did with that information, I don't know."

Fox feels a shiver go down his spine. He knows it happens, of course. Not all the clones left to die end up dying. Some are picked up by scavengers. Some find their way back to the GAR. Some… are not so lucky, and end up in the hands of slavers, fighting rings, and the like.

He only knows about it because the Senate had a meeting to decide if that's something they need to be concerned about. His jaw hurt for hours from how hard he was clenching it.

They leave the shop, and Fox stands there for a moment, staring blankly at the passing traffic. "We need to go to that cantina," he says darkly.

Anika nods. "I can't believe the audacity of someone, anyone, to try selling clones in the heart of the Republic." She's scowling when he looks at her. "And I cannot believe that the Senate has done nothing for the clones. It's unacceptable."

"You know they don't care," Fox points out, somewhere between resigned and bitter.

She doesn't argue the point, only turning down the street, and Fox falls in step next to her as they head to the cantina that they left hardly any time ago. He still doesn't remember coming here, but at least the anger he felt makes more sense now. Pain lances through his skull as they walk. He remembers the answer acutely, but what led up to it is… gone. At least for now.

Maybe forever, but so long as they can piece together what happened it doesn't matter if he never remembers what led up to his unconsciousness.

They enter the cantina together, and Fox can't deny being on edge as Anika slips ahead of them through the crowds to the counter. The bartender is a near-human, a species that Fox can't name off the top of his head. Maybe he's a hybrid. He narrows gold eyes at them, and there's a visible red swirling line of a tattoo peaking out from under his shirt collar.

"Clones ain't welcome," he barks out. "Already told you everything I know."

"I have a few questions," Anika answers with a smile. Fox knows it's forced, and he knows that she's only putting on an act, but seeing her flirt with this thug makes his skin crawl. "I'm not here on behalf of the Senate. Not directly."

He scoffs, crossing his arms. "Whaddya want?" he demands.

Anika leans closer. "I know you wouldn't have destroyed all the evidence. Whatever happened… you'd want insurance to know that the Republic won't come after you."

"I don't know what you're talking about–" he starts.

Anika slams a hand down on the counter. "Don't play with me. I've heard the talk. Merchandise. Out of the back of your cantina. Give us the security recordings that we both know you're holding onto–" She straightens, and the expression on her face isn't a smile so much as it is a baring of teeth. "– and I won't kill you. Do you know what we do with scum like you on my home world?"

Her fingers twitch, and Fox can feel the staticky pull of the Force. She might not be trained, but she's still capable of extreme acts, just as any Jedi. Perhaps more than any Jedi, for that matter. In this, Fox trusts her. She doesn't use the Force often, but when she does, she doesn't mess around. He knows that she can – and will – kill this man with her bare hands if forced.

"I don't think you want to find out," she hisses.

The man doesn't look especially intimidated. He seems more exasperated and annoyed than anything, but given his line of work, Fox isn't surprised. "Got it in the back," he tells them. "Follow me."

He waves someone else over to the bar while ushering them to the back of the cantina.

Fox is not at all surprised when instead of handing over a datastick with the recording, he pulls a blaster on them. He is also unsurprised when Anika lifts her hand, clenching her fist. The man's wrist snaps, and the blaster is ripped from his fingers. His scream of pain is drowned out by the music.

"Try again," Anika says coldly, and Fox draws his blaster, aiming at the man, ready to fire if necessary, in his own defense as well as in the Senator's. He won't let her get hurt on his watch.

For the first time, he looks a little scared, and finally, he hands them what they need.

"I'd clear out if I were you," the Senator warns before they leave. "Whoever wanted this buried won't look kindly on it coming to light."

And then, they're gone, returning to the speeder to view the recording in private. The footage is higher quality than Fox expected, but it's also not the best, and they watch in silence as the Chancellor's aide accompanied by a hooded figure bids on the two clones. He wins, and Fox intercepts them in the back of the cantina. The audio is garbled, but it's obvious that there's an argument that ends when the two clones flee, presumably on Fox's orders. The aide goes for what might be a weapon, and Fox shoots.

The hooded figure moves closer when the aide drops to the ground, a smoking hole in his chest, and Fox spins toward him, blaster aimed. It lowers, and Fox takes an abrupt step back.

"–cellor?"

And then the man lunges at Fox. His blaster goes off, but the shot flies harmlessly by as he ducks it, slamming into Fox. Fox goes down, a fist catching him in the helmet hard enough to presumably stun him. A hand is pressed against his head for a moment before the hooded figure stands and walks away.

They stare at the frozen recording for a long moment before Anika swears.

So does Fox.

"Guess that explains why they're going after you," she mutters, rubbing her face. "If– if the Chancellor–"

Fox feels horror crawling up his throat. The Chancellor was there. He and his aide were purchasing enslaved clones on the black market. He doesn't know why, and it doesn't matter much, either. It's illegal. No wonder he –

Admittedly, a part of him had wondered if he had committed the murder. Framing is not out of the question, but it seemed so… odd, and he hadn't remembered what happened. Still doesn't, but he at least has answers, and now he knows why he killed the man.

He swallows hard, looking at Anika. "What now?" he whispers.

She reaches for his hand, squeezing it. "I'll take this to the Senate, and– and I'll call for a Vote of No Confidence in Palpatine. I know it's in the middle of war, but if– if he's capable of this, what else is he doing that we don't know about? We can't trust him to lead us."

He nods. "Okay," he answers. "I'll wait for word."

"I don't want to put you in a cell." She pauses, frowning, "And I don't like the way that he was able to… do that. He was moving too fast. Too– I think I need to take this to the Jedi Council."

She fires up the engine, flying back to the barracks and returning Fox to his cell. He waits there, waits for news, waits to learn the fate of the Republic… and his own fate as well.

He waits, pacing the floor of the cell, torn with an anxiety that he would never normally display. If he had his armor, if he had something to do other than stay here and worry, he would bury it down and hide it away, but he can't do that now. He has nothing to do but ponder what might happen, what is happening.

Though he trusts Anika, he also knows that Palpatine is a powerful – and dangerous – man. He will not give up his seat easily, and he undoubtedly has no qualms about hurting or killing her if needed. Anika is clever, but does she truly know what she's walking into? Fox doesn't think she does. He doesn't think any of them do. There are still too many unknowns.

He waits until late the following night before he hears news.

It comes in the form of Anika herself, still wearing her Senatorial clothing and clearly exhausted, but with an expression of relief on her face. She sways toward him when the door to his cell is opened, and he thinks that the only reason she doesn't throw herself into his arms is because they're not alone.

"Senator?" he asks when she remains quiet for a heartbeat, just staring at him.

"It's over," she replies softly, and then, she comes closer, reaching out to clasp his forearm. "I presented the recording to the Senate, and after a long debate, Palpatine was removed from office. The Jedi Council suspected he might be a Sith, and they requested permission from the Nubian Queen to arrest him. It was granted. Last I heard, he was killed resisting arrest, and several of the Jedi Masters who went after him were injured."

Fox lets the words wash over him, and he thinks he ought to be more relieved than he is. Mostly, he's just afraid of what it'll mean for the future… and the Republic, in particular. "What now?"

"I thought we could get some rest together and figure that out in the morning," she answers.

Palpatine might be dead, but the war isn't over, and the clones are still not free. Fox knows it'll be a struggle, and it feels so impossible when it's just them against the Republic itself, but – but at least they've made a difference.

"Sounds good," he says, instead of blurting out is the Republic worth saving or any of the other questions buzzing through his mind, laying his hand over hers. She turns her hand to squeeze his.

"C'mon," she murmurs, tugging him toward the exit. "Let's get you something to eat and a warm bed."

Fox lets her lead him away, stopping long enough to speak to some of the other Guard on the way out. Palpatine might be dead, but the war is not over yet, nor is… this. Any of this. He doesn't know what he'd do if it was over, but he also doesn't know that he wants it to continue. He's tired of being stationed on Coruscant, tired of being nothing more than a guard when they were all created for so much more. He knows it's important to protect the capital of the Republic, but… well, after so long of being treated as lesser, Fox has perhaps grown cynical.

But he lets those thoughts fall away when Anika lands the speeder outside her apartment in 500 Republica. It's fancy, of course, as all the Senator residences are, but Fox appreciates that she's gone for a note of simplicity. It makes him feel at home here like he does in the barracks with his brothers.

"I was so worried," the Senator breathes, and then, her arms are around him, clinging to him with a strength that the slenderness of her body would say she ought not to have.

Fox holds her just as tightly, and they're alone now, so he doesn't need to be afraid of letting it show how he really feels. He doesn't need to fear someone seeing them and knowing that they're in love and that they can be used against one another, because here, in Anika's apartment, they are safe.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispers, hand sliding to the back of his neck as she leans up to press their lips together. The kiss is almost painfully gentle, and Fox squeezes her a little tighter.

"I was… concerned something would happen to you," he admits, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. "Politicians can be vicious."

He feels more than hears her chuckle. "I'm a politician."

"But you're not like most of them," he counters, almost smiling.

"No, thank the Force for that," she agrees, kissing him again.

Things on Coruscant will not be okay just because Palpatine is gone, and Fox knows that, but right here and now, he thinks he can let go of those worries. Anika has a way of making the impossible feel possible, and while it's not always realistic, Fox will let himself believe in her, at least for tonight.

They survived another day, even when it seemed so uncertain, and that, he thinks, is cause for some celebration.

Tomorrow… well, tomorrow is another story but tomorrow can wait for morning.

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