Work Text:
Tup had clutched at him like a lifeline,
eyes wild and searching and hollow.
"The mission. The one in our dreams."
In war, common was the practice of waking drenched in sweat to blasterfire still ringing in your ears and tears drying stripes down your face. The lighter sleepers of them would respond with practiced motions, hands calming and words soothing,
"Just a dream, just the dream."
Night after night, dream after dream, hands and tears and sweat-soaked blankets, everyone eventually saw every Jedi they'd ever met fall, their hands holding the gun, someone else pulling the trigger.
The first time Fives had the dream was the night after meeting General Ti, and it had left him more confused than concerned. The General had displayed an imposingly docile figure, the air surrounding ringing with calm.
In his dream, the calm was the first to go, her death shattering into the darkness and the Force weeping the moment the first bolt hit her body, weeping with the second, and the third, and the fourth, and the thing that stuck with him once he shot up out of his rack to calming hands and soothing words was that he was never the one pulling the trigger.
Eventually, Fives had added his own hands and voice, learning to sleep lighter than necessary on missions with shinies to best reach them when, inevitably, the dream hit. He'd lost count of how many times he'd hushed quiet reassurances into numb ears in the dark of the bunkroom, wiped salted tracks from hollow eyes on forest floors, held back his own panic as over and over again they awoke with the same phrase on their lips,
"The mission that never ends."
He remembers Tup's first dream.
Most responded in the way they were programmed to, with sharp movements and harsh cries breaking the silence of sleep.
He'd found Tup curled quietly in their shared tent one evening, his only betrayal being the shaking in his shoulders as he'd muffled quiet sobs. Gone were the noisy outcries of general commander captain, the flailing limbs and sheets soaked in sweat. Tup's eyes had shone silently into the darkness and, when they became fixed on Fives, showed the same horror he had felt two years ago in his rack on Kamino. Not a word between them was spoken as Fives had relieved himself of his cuirass and settled himself alongside his distraught form.
He'd tried to defend himself against the unknown, broken voice begging, "I would never," screaming, "I couldn't stop," whispering "what if."
Tup's hands had tightened around his back, struggling for a reason why he had crossed the darkness. I followed the mission. I lined up her head like.. like we were taught, just between the guiders and breathed. But Fives.. Fives please, I never pulled the trigger. She died but it wasn't me who pulled it so who pulled it, Fives? It was in my hands, she was in my sights, the trigger got pulled and she died but Fives, gedet'ye, it wasn't me and the mission didn't end.
"It never does," he'd bit back, pulling Tup closer.
"it just starts again."
The first time Fives had the dream, it had left him more confused than concerned
The second time, he was confused.
The third, he was concerned.
By his second rotation, he was keeping track of what Jedi he'd met by whether or not he'd dreamt of their deaths.
Confusion had raced to concern to horror when Tup had stirred under the restraints on the Kaminoan mockery of a bed, luminous eyes wildly searching for something, anything that wasn't the dream.
He'd found Fives.
"It never ends."
Except it did. The dream had ended for Hevy, and for Droidbait.
For Cutup and Echo.
Droidbait and Denal.
The end of the dream was never as pretty as the holonovelas Commander Tano would sneak into the bunkrooms after-hours made it out to be, all gentle gasping and soft lights, nor was it the honor-filled explosions of true purpose and Republic sacrifice. Brothers saved from the brink would whisper about how the end of the dream was actually a patient beginning, a mask so foreign to their own snapping into place like a salute to their creators, of artificial breath down their necks and the oppressive feeling of betrayal in a generous darkness.
It ended with Hardcase, sharp and sudden.
It would eventually end with Fives, quiet and desperate.
It was ending with Tup, generous and patient.
With calm hands and soothing words.
Numb ears and hollow eyes.
"Oh brother,
this is the end."