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It was always easy for him to wake up early and be ready on time for the agenda of the day. Pristine and perfect like every soldier should be, no distractions or chit-chatting, just ready to be of service. After all, they were born for this.
But it wasn’t always like that.
He was the new one, the fresh face, the shiny as they call him. He and some others, including Tup, joined the 501st fresh off Kamino.
They had never seen a battle before, just programmed training and now they were amongst veterans, carefully listening to tales of distant worlds and victories.
He admired all of them, truly, and hoped to one day be like them, or like Captain Rex himself. Stories of the Captain and General Skywalker, being acclaimed War Heroes, were shared between cadets back on their homeworld.
When he met the Legend himself, when the Captain welcomed him the day the new recruits were boarded in the Legion, he almost fainted and at that moment he decided to be the picture-perfect of what a soldier should be. He decided to earn the respect of his Captain.
And so Dogma did.
Every morning he would get up ten minutes before the alarm, barely talking to anyone but Tup, if he was awake, as some mornings his batchmate woke up later than anyone else.
The next step on his personal list was to shower and change. Like everything else he was swift and precise, wasting as little water or time as possible, without ever complaining.
His interactions with the rest of the group were scarce even if they tried to include him in various group activities they held almost every night. He always said no, blaming the regulations and being by the book but the reality was a far cry from the person he presented to the outside world.
He was deeply insecure, terrified of making a misstep, to be laughed at.
He suffered when someone made fun of him and he always reacted by closing in himself even more. He didn’t like new people or touch in general so he had to build up a facade, something that would protect him from everything he had no control over.
The only time he allegedly broke some rules was for his tattoo, it wasn’t small in the least. It went across his face and over one eye. Before him, others had altered their physical appearances as a way to stand out from others, to be unique. Many of his brothers had undergone modifications both big and small, be it a huge tattoo on their head or beards, longer or dyed hairs or designs on their armor. It was also the first time he was completely relaxed. Deep down, he wanted to be accepted, to be part of the family, to be like his ori’vode .
He didn’t know why he chose that design in particular but it looked very cool on his skin. But the attention lasted, at best, 4 days.
The pranks and jokes for the new mark on his skin stopped when another shiny came back with a tattoo and the attention shifted. And Dogma shut himself off even more.
His trip to the mess hall was always silent, aided by the fact that there were few troopers around first thing in the morning, making it a time where he could actually relax and think. The trick about Dogma was that he was always thinking, on edge and always on high alert, thinking about the next right move, the right thing to say or the best way to learn,to be more than perfect, better than anyone.
He always sat alone, or when Tup woke up on time with him by his side, lazily munching on rations or whatever was being served that day and sipping at a really bad caf, again complaining wasn’t in his vocabulary and it was against the regs anyway.
He didn't like their usual food but it was engineered to satisfy their accelerated metabolism so it had to be good, but there'd been that one time when he actually tried a different kind of food, homemade food. He didn’t know how or who sneaked it in but it was a shiny, one that arrived a few days ago, that actually brought him a piece. As soon as he took a bite, he wished he could eat that for the rest of his life.
All his days always passed pretty much the same way, though it might have been boring for everyone else, to him, it was safer this way.
There were times when he really wanted to speak or be laid back like other troopers he saw but there was always a nagging feeling inside that would restrained him. Anxiety? Fear? He really didn't know what to call it. Only his batchmate knew about this and like the sweet being he was, he was very understanding and Dogma appreciated it a lot. Tup was also the only one who saw him smiling, the rare times it happened but he wasn’t there all the time.
Just as night fell, when they were on leave and others had already left to go to who knows where, when he was actually alone, he finally gave in and cried. It was the part of the day he hated the most, the time when he didn't understand himself nor why he couldn't interact normally with people. He just couldn't and so he cried. Sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the side of his bunk, his head finally empty and tears running freely on his face.
He was still alone, maybe one day he will succeed and not be ashamed of himself, but he could feel that that road was still far away.
He just wanted to be appreciated so he became perfect, not knowing that being perfect required one to be a bit flawed too.
But Dogma would learn this with time.