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Quinlan is bleeding out, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He has never been skilled at healing, and what little he does know about it is directed towards healing others, not himself. Sure, he might be constantly undercover, but he was never without backup, never too far away for a quick save…
It was almost fitting that he would die here on Coruscant, not an hour away from the Jedi Temple. So close, but too far. It wasn’t even that his mission had been compromised, no, that would at least mean he deserved whatever was to come. He had to be caught in an old fashioned shoot-out, and the idiots were using the uncivilized slug-shooters. Not only was he in immense pain, but his wounds weren’t even cauterized.
Months worth of undercover work blown when he was shot and left for dead. He shifted against the boxes he was leaning on, trying to find a more comfortable position. He must have been really out of it, because the next time he looked up it was into the helmet of a Coruscant Guard member.
“Thank F-Force…” His voice was weak and shaky. “I need...help.”
“That much is clear. Who are you, and why are you filled with bullet holes?” The voice that filtered through the helmet sounded wry and alert. He seemed to understand there was more to the situation as he knelt down to assess Quinlan’s injuries.
“I’m a Jedi, "I'm Jedi Master Qui-ah, fuck," he flinched as the clone touched one of the wounds. "Quinlan Vos. Undercover mission- mnhh. I was caught in a shootout."
“A Jedi?” the clone, a commander by the look of him, swore and whipped out a comm so fast Quinlan’s head was spinning. “Corn, I need you to meet me at my current location. We’ve got an injured Jedi Master, looks like he’s on his last legs. Bring enough bacta to cover the entire upper body.” Quinlan would have protested if he had more energy. “I don’t think we can move him without patching some of the holes. He was caught in the middle of those hut’uun’e ...what’s your eta?”
“See you in six. Anything you can do to get here faster, do it.” He nodded at the response and turned off the comm. He turned back to Quinlan, who could have sworn that his body was more tense than when he had walked up. Which was quite the feat, the man had looked like a coiled predator, all sharp lines and danger.
“So, you gonna tell me your name, or am I going to have to read your mind?” Quinlan went for his signature smirk, but he had a feeling it looked more like a grimace.
“CC-1010, general. Commander of the Coruscant Guard.” He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small pack. He ripped it open and held out the contents, waving his hand to try and get Quinlan to take them. “Bacta pills, they’re meant for headaches or fatigue, but they’ll work in a pinch.”
Quinlan tried to grab them, he really did, but when he moved his arm his entire upper body lit up in fire. He barely kept himself from yelling again. The commander tilted his helmet before shifting close to put his hand up to Quinlan's mouth.
“You’ll have to take them dry, sir. I don’t have anything else on me.” The tone had shifted again, concern and...apology? He’d have used the Force if it weren’t screaming his agony back at him.
“Don’t call me sir, or general, or any of that title osik .” He took the pills. “Just...Quinlan.”
The helmet blocked Quinlan’s view of his face, but he had the distinct feeling eyes were being rolled at him.
“Yes sir.” Quinlan huffed out a laugh that quickly turned into a wet cough. Instantly the clones hands were on his shoulders, bracing him.
A few moments passed in silence before Quinlan spoke again. “If you don’t want to tell me your name...I’ll have to make one up for you. Commander…?” When he was answered with another exasperated head roll, he continued on. “Commander Red. You know, cause of that paint? No? Well, I think it suits you. Get it? Suits?”
More silence. And then-
“Fox,” came the gruff answer. “Commander Fox.”
“Oh yeah? So I was right then.”
“What? You said red, how is that-” he cut off abruptly as if horrified to act this way in front of a Jedi.
“Well, Foxy, the animal is red so…” he grimaced again and shifted, at which point they both seemed to realize Fox still had his hands on Quinlan’s body. They were quickly withdrawn. “I don’t think I’ll make it.”
“Of course you will sir, Corn is three minutes away, that’s not much longer.” The fear was back, he could tell even without the Force.
“Relax, you aren’t going to take...any blame. My missions, well. The Council has...been waiting for me to...mess up. Don’t sweat it.” Quinlan’s breaths were becoming more pained. “I need...a distraction?” He phrased it as a question so the man wouldn’t feel pressured. Although a request from a dying man rarely went unanswered. Or so he assumed.
A few seconds went by before the man settled down beside him, their legs brushing together. Quinlan felt heat from where the plastoid armour pressed against his disguise.
“When I was first assigned to the Guard, we had a shiny named Frog-”
“Animal names are all the rage huh?” Quinlan couldn’t help himself. The world was going grey around the edges, and he was still making jokes.
The helmet tipped up toward the sky for a moment before he continued.
“So, this shiny-” Quinlan interrupted again.
“Look man...I appreciate the...whole look you’ve got. Armour, looks good. But, can you take the...the helmet. Can you take it off?”
“Why?” his voice sounded genuinely mystified. “You’ve seen clones before, we’ve all got the same face.”
“That’s...not true. You all have...quirks.”
“Quirks, sir?” Was that? No. Was that a sense of humour in the voice?
Quinlan raised an eyebrow and waited. After a few more moments hands came up and unsealed the helmet before pulling it off.
True, all clones had the same genetic material, but Quinlan never had any trouble picking them apart when he wanted to. This man had hair that was greying at the temples, and a thick line between his eyebrows that spoke to unspeakable stress. The lines on his face were severe, but he didn’t look unkind. He looked a little lonely.
“Silver fox…” was all Quinlan could get out. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.
“I’m not even going to answer that.” The man shifted and their legs were pressed more firmly together. Was he nervous? “So Frog came to us fresh off Kamino, no paint, no manners. We had a hard time getting him to fall in line. But he soon became my closest brother.”
Fox kept spinning tales of his brother, and Quinlan tried to pay attention, but everything was feeling heavy and slow, like he was full of molasses. Or rocks.
“What happened to him?” Quinlan interrupted something about explosives.
“What do you mean? Sir.” Quinlan opened his eyes and tried to focus on the cute man beside him-the clone beside him.
“Past...tense. You’re using past.” Quinlan’s chest was aching.
“He died. Was shot by a slug thrower, same as you. He-” Fox cleared his throat in a rather charming manner. No, not charming. That was inappropriate, right? “He took his last breath in my arms. That’s not happening with you.” His voice had gotten fierce.
They broke into silence again.
“Where’s Corn? He should have been here by now, maybe I should resend-” he cut off as Quinlan held out his hand.
He watched a myriad of subtle twitches cross his face, and wouldn’t Quinlan have liked to know what they meant. He was a bit surprised when the man took his hand. He had a strong grip, and Quinlan knew that beneath the gloves were callouses from endless hours handling a weapon.
Normally Quinlan would be able to pick up echoes from the man’s glove, but his connection to the Force was slipping.
Quinlan thought he heard a whisper, but then he was too far gone to tell.
---
His eyes flew open and he took a gasping lungful of air, before coughing it all out again. His upper body was still burning with pain, but he was alive. Alive!
“Fox?” he cast his gaze around the small interior of what must be a medi-ship. There were three men in red armour around him, but which one-ah. The one with the tense-as-hell shoulders.
Fox slowly moved forward and jolted a bit when Quinlan grabbed for his hand. Quinlan couldn’t pull him closer, but Fox seemed to sense his intent and stepped forward on his own. He knew their eyes were meeting through the impassive black window.
“Thank you,” he whispered, before closing his eyes again. This time as he drifted off, he could easily feel the steady pressure of the commander holding his hand, keeping watch. This time, he knew he would wake up again.
---
Fox hadn’t wanted to meet another karking Jetii that day. Well, he never wanted to meet them, but on that day specifically he didn’t want it. He was having a no-good, awful, horrible day. All he wanted to do was complete his almost depleted stack of paperwork and go to bed early for once. He was so tired he constantly had a headache, and he was so close to being done he could taste it.
Until his comm went off on the emergency frequency telling him about a group of spice dealers getting into a turf war in the lower levels of Coruscant. Few things needed to be handled by Fox directly, but this was one of those things. So off he went with his vode to investigate.
And now, Fox is standing at the entrance of a small, enclosed alley, looking down at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. It took a second before he registered the injuries covering his torso. The second he looked up, Fox knew he was in trouble. Even covered in blood and looking like he’s about to keel over, he had a soft look to him. Before he could freeze up too much, the man spoke.
“Thank Force, I need...help.” The man’s voice was shaking, but not as much as it should be. Fox narrowed his eyes in suspicion and started moving towards him.
“That much is clear.” Fox questioned the man while taking stock of his injuries from a reserved distance. When the man mentioned he was a Jedi, Fox knew he was telling the truth. Maybe it was the grimace he tried to push down, or the way he seemed to scoff at his own title. Regardless, the man would have been dead by now if not for the Force. Probably.
When Corn told him they were in the middle of an impromptu surgery, he knew it was up to him to keep the general alive until reinforcements came. He just wished he was better equipped.
“So, you gonna tell me your name, or am I going to have to read your mind?” The general’s eyes were filled with pain, but he was trying to cover it up. It took barely any brain power at all to rattle off his designation and rank.
“Bacta pills, they’re meant for headaches or fatigue, but they’ll work in a pinch.” He held out the bacta for him, but the strangled gasp he let out moved Fox to press them against his mouth instead. “You’ll have to take them dry, sir. I don’t have anything else on me.” Fox was usually good at compartmentalizing his feelings, but this Jedi…
“Don’t call me sir, or general, or any of that title osik ,” he swallowed them down and met Fox’s eyes through his visor. “Just...Quinlan.”
Fox rolled his eyes. As if he was going to use a Jetii ’s first name.
“Yes sir.” This made the man laugh, of all things, though it quickly shifted into a cough that shook his body. Fox reached out quickly to brace him, hoping to stop the injuries from being further aggravated.
Fox barely had time to register how alive the man still felt beneath his hands before he was talking again. “If you don’t want to tell me your name...I’ll have to make one up for you. Commander…?” Fox shook his head a bit and looked to the side. Did he ever stop talking? The man was bleeding out, for kark's sake!
“Commander Red. You know, cause of that paint?” Fox wasn’t going to take the bait. He wasn’t. No? Well, I think it suits you. Get it? Suits?” He let out a silent groan that thankfully wasn’t picked up by his microphone. He had half a mind to just ignore the man but, well, he was dying.
“Fox.” He spoke simply. “Commander Fox.”
“Oh yeah? So I was right then.”
“What? You said red, how is that-” Fox felt horror seep into his bones when his brain caught up with his mouth. He was going to either die of embarrassment or be decommissioned for speaking to a superior officer that way. Thankfully the Jedi just picked up where he left off.
“Well, Foxy, the animal is red so…” Master Vos grimaced and tried to shift against the box he was leaning against, at which point both sets of eyes dropped to Fox’s hands. Which were still on the Jedi. Fox couldn’t move his arms fast enough.
“I don’t think I’ll make it.” Fox barely caught the words, he spoke them so softly.
“Of course you will sir, Corn is three minutes away, that’s not much longer.” He felt his shoulders tense up even more.
“Relax, you aren’t going to take...any blame. My missions, well. The Council has...been waiting for me to...mess up. Don’t sweat it.” What? Was that what he thought Fox was thinking about?
“I need...a distraction?” Fox heard the plea for what it was, and against all his better judgement, he sat down beside the man. He made sure to have their legs firmly pushed together. Not because he was cute, because it was what they did with their injured siblings. It was what he had done for-
“When I was first assigned to the Guard, we had a shiny named Frog-”
“Animal names are all the rage huh?” This man just couldn’t help himself, could he. Fox looked up at the sky and prayed for some patience. He took a split second to picture what he would be like at full health.
Absolute chaos, probably.
“So, this shiny-” he tried again, but the man was demanding to see his face. He put up a token argument, but...how do you say no to a Jedi? Cody certainly wasn’t able to refuse Kenobi anything.
Quin-Master Vos raised an eyebrow and that settled it. Fox reached up and took his bucket off, revealing his face in all its exhausted glory.
“Silver fox…” He whispered and closed his eyes.
“I’m not even going to answer that.” Fox shifted minisculely closer and prayed the flush on his face and neck was hidden in the lack of light. “So Frog came to us fresh off Kamino, no paint, no manners.”
“What happened to him?” He was just about to get to the part where Frog blew up a senator's house when Quinlan interrupted again.
“What do you mean? Sir.”
“Past...tense. You’re using past,” he blinked hard against the burn in his chest. He pushed it down as far as he could and sat on the lid.
“He died. Was shot by a slug thrower, same as you. He-” Fox cleared his throat and shoved the pain down further. “He took his last breath in my arms. That’s not happening with you.”
It was starting to get late, far later than Corn said. Fox wasn’t a man prone to panic. But if he were, now would be the time. He must have said something, because The Jedi held out his hand. Fox swallowed, looking carefully at his face before looking back at his hand.
He reached out and clasped their hands together.
“We’ll get you through this,” he didn’t even add the sir to the end.
Barely a second passed before lights flooded the alley.
“Thank Force,” Fox called out. “Took you long enough!”
And then the Jedi was swarmed by a team of medics and Fox was brushed aside. It looked like they were moving faster than light, and soon the whole team was on board the medic ship and en route to the Jedi Temple.
He probably had a hundred forms to fill out. A thousand things he could be doing. But he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the unconscious Jedi. From the looks on his siblings faces he would make it, they didn’t have that line between their eyebrows, the one that appeared when one of the vode couldn’t be saved. Again and again, Fox’s mind flashed back to sitting beside the man, holding his shoulders, holding his hand.
Less than half an hour, and Fox is gone . Not that he would ever say anything. Chances were once they got him back to the temple they’d never meet again. 10,000 Jedi to serve a galaxy of trillions. He’d be long gone. He mentioned something about undercover missions too, which meant he’d be hidden away.
Although they weren’t in the same spheres of command, all Jedi were generals, and Fox was a commander. And if there weren’t reg’s about that, there was still the Jedi Code. Which, thanks to drunken talks with both Bly and Cody, he knew was not forgiving in that area. Not that...it had stopped any of them.
But most of all, Fox was a clone. There were millions just like him. As he said before, they all have the same face. Why pick him when you could have a younger, more optimistic vod instead?
Fox stood there in miserable silence, barely acknowledging Corn or Starshine (who picks a name like Starshine?) when they updated him on their patient. He heard what he needed to hear and bottled up his emotions.
There he was, staring forlornly at the Jedi while pretending to read reports on his helmet screen, when he awoke, coughing up a storm. It took all of Fox’s willpower not to react. And then Vos was saying his name and reaching for him. He once again ignored the analytical eyes of his vode and stepped forward.
“Thank you,” when he whispered those words, Fox saw straight into his heart. This man was far too good for him. But he didn’t let go as he continued to hold on even when he passed out again. Fox would keep watch as he slept.
Neither of his siblings said a word until the ship began landing.
“ Vod , we’re here,” it was Corn speaking in his ear and placing a hand on his shoulder. Fox nodded and had to pull his hand free from the patient.
The three of them walked down the ramp, pushing the hover-bed with them. They were met by General Kenobi, another Jedi, and Cody. Of course Fox’s vod’ika would be there. Where Kenobi went, Cody went.
Fox was almost in the clear, they made the transition smoothly and were about to get the hell out of town when Kenobi leaned down and pressed his hands on Vos’s temples. It was just Fox’s luck that Vos woke up and immediately saw him again.
“Hey, commander!” Fox winced and forced his body not to go rushing over to the injured man. “You know, you saved my life.” Fox raised an eyebrow and gave a pointed look to the medics standing beside him. Quinlan laughed, this time not collapsing into a fit of coughing.
“You deserve a reward, how ‘bout I stop by your office when they release me? I know where it is.” His eyes were already gaining strength and Fox was not looking forward to dealing with him at full strength. He wasn’t, no matter what his traitorous little heart was saying.
And he didn’t even want to think about what a “reward” would entail.
“No thank you, sir. I was just doing my job-”
“Well, commander, I insist. Keep an eye out for me.” And then the kiffar winked at him. Did he have no sense of dignity at all?
The last thing Fox saw as he was whisked away by the other Jedi was the way his gold stripe wrinkled in pain. And then Fox was left to deal with all three of his siblings.
“So,” Corn began in that gentle way of theirs. “A jetii, vod ?”
Cody’s sharp eyes never missed a thing, and Fox was almost sorry he stayed behind rather than follow his general. Sure, they hadn’t seen each other in...Fox quickly did the calculations in his head, six weeks? But this was a conversation he didn’t want this particular vod’ika privy to.
“What about him?” His voice was a snarl as he turned to go back to the ship. Starshine grabbed his arm as he passed them, their scarred face a blanket of concern and care and love . He might be able to snub Corn and Cody, but Starshine was special. Of all the vode , Starshine was the most pure, and everyone knew it. So he stopped.
“What.” His voice was never soft, but this was as close as it got.
“Fox, come on. We all saw the way you looked at him,” Starshine’s eyes glittered with empathy.
“And the way he looked at you,” Cody’s deep timbre cut in. “ Ori’vod , what the Force happened?”
Fox recounted it all. Every word and look, every movement. The way Fox had sat against his side, pressing their legs together and how Master Vos held out his hand. He may have omitted the thinking he was cute, but from the way they were all looking at him they knew. He may have been wearing a helmet, but the rest of them weren’t.
Fox reached up and pulled his helmet off again, and clipped it to his belt.
“I need a drink.” Fox wasn’t doing any more paperwork today, and if that got him decommissioned, well, at least then he’d never have to forge another signature.
---
Quinlan Vos was the perfect patient, to everyone’s great surprise. He, unlike certain members of the Jedi Order, knew the value in keeping in tip top shape. So when they told him to sleep, he slept. When they told him to rest, he did just that. As a result, he spent way less time overall in med bay than any of the others. Which was how he ended up being discharged only two days later.
With a hearty thanks to the healers that worked with him, he was skipping away. He had a promise to fulfill.
He first made a pit stop at his quarters to grab what little credits he had before beelining it out of the temple. He knew just the place to grab his special gift.
---
He stood outside the room with the gift in his right palm. It wasn’t anything big or flashy, but it fit the recipient. Quinlan frowned for a second, doubting himself. Was it perhaps a bit too on-the-nose? Before he could head out the door whooshed open, revealing a very startled-and cute-commander. Fox’s helmet was missing and he was in just his blacks and the bottom of his armour. It didn’t leave very much to the imagination, but Quinlan’s mind had always been somewhat of a heathen anyways.
“What?” Fox stumbled back a step.
“Foxy, I brought you your gift!” He flashed his signature smirk, now at full force. He noticed the way Fox’s eyes raked over his body and felt satisfaction and heat bloom in his chest. Until the man spoke.
“There’s no way you’re healed yet, that amount of bullet wounds? Sir. You should be resting.” Fox moved aside, and gently nodded his head. Quinlan easily took the invitation and loped into the office and sleeping area.
His eyes took in everything, from the rack containing the rest of Fox’s armour to the alarming stack of datapads and flimsi on the desk. He turned to the commander and flashed his teeth. Before he could convince himself out of it he pulled open his shirt to show off his freshly-healed scars.
“Jedi magic, as you all like to say.” This time when Fox’s eyes lingered, Quinlan knew it was a win. He quickly closed his shirt back up and tossed the man his gift. It seemed only the soldiers' reflexes let him catch the statue.
“Oh. Is this a...?” Quinlan hadn’t known the commander long enough to recognize the emotion behind his voice. He most certainly did not cheat and peek into the Force (he did).
“A fox! It’s blue, but. You get the idea,” Quinlan exclaimed triumphantly. He loved it. The commander might not say it out loud, but the gift was a win. He decided not to push his luck and begged off on pretense of an engagement. He left the man with a rather stunned look on his face and a promise to stop by again.
---
When Vos left it was all Fox could do not to grin like a fool. The Jedi may have stuck around only for a few moments, but that was enough to leave Fox dizzy. He sat down on his bed and grinned down at the little trinket.
The next day, the fox was sitting in a newly cleared space on his desk.