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The battle had just started when the gunship went down. Pickett had been holding onto the strap above him with such a tight grip he couldn’t feel any of his fingers anymore. Was it normal to feel like you were going to throw up before a battle? Or was there something wrong with the life support on the ship itself? Maybe that’s why Pickett felt like he couldn’t draw in enough oxygen.
Magnus rested his hand against his twin’s shoulder. The weight of his brother’s hand on his arm made him feel slightly better. “Take a breath Pick. That’s all you have to worry about right now.”
Picket complied. One breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Bouncer was watching them very unstealthily. Their Ori’vod was never one to hide his concern for his younger batchmates. Clyde stood next to their oldest brother, for once he was almost entirely silent, not cracking jokes, not talking about anything and everything like he usually did when he was nervous. Pickett wasn’t entirely sure if he was even breathing. This unnerved the youngest brother more than if Clyde was talking up a storm.
“Come on Vod say something, say anything….” He pleaded in his mind. But no matter how close they were as brothers neither one of them could read each other’s minds. None of the clones could.
“Pick? Mag? You two holding up fine.” Bouncer asked in his usual authoritative voice.
“We’re good Bounce.” Magnus answered for the both of them.
The gunship rocked particularly violently and then continued on with a few more shudders. Pickett tightened his hand harder on the safety strap and then reached to the side to hold onto Magnus as well when he realized it wasn’t enough. Magnus obliged and held onto Pickett as well. Another violent rock of the gunship. Then the distinct sound of canons. The ship lurched right suddenly. And the entire sky burst into flame.
Bouncer was dead before they even hit the ground. Pickett swore he could hear his brother's spine and the ribs in his chest shatter. He had thrown his left arm over Clyde and lost his grip of the safety strap. Pickett turned his head just in time to see his brothers shoulder get violently wretched from its socket. Bouncer never cried out, never made any sound at all. Pickett felt them fall out of the sky, felt the spray of warm blood spatter against his helmet, and then felt the gunship hit the ground. When the blackness receded and the world pulsed in and out around the clone trooper Pickett realized that somehow in the crash his helmet had been thrown off, his head swiveled awkwardly to the side trying to find his source of protection. He found it, the severed arm of his brother lying against it. The broken bones in his legs shot pain up and down his entire spine, he wondered briefly if his legs were torn from the rest of his body like Bouncer’s arm. No one was coming for them. Pickett knew. They all knew. He wasn’t sure he wanted them too anyway.
....
“One day” Clyde had started “When were real troopers with good gear and boots on the ground we’ll turn so many clankers into scrap metal we can build our own gunship.”
Pickett had smiled at that and continued to scrub hard at his training blaster. His twin, Magnus, knocked into Pickett’s shoulder playfully. "The only we’ll be taking down is a lot of disappointment if we don’t get our marks up Clyde.”
“Boys, play nice.” Bouncer called from across the room.
Bouncer was the oldest out of the batch. Pickett always thought that it wasn’t really supposed to mean anything to be only slightly older than the others when you were all fundamentally born at the same time. Nevertheless, Bouncer was always the perpetual older brother. Bouncer crossed to the twins of the batch and ruffled Pickets hair. Bouncer had kept his own buzzed while Pickett and Magnus let their hair grow enough so the curls twisted over their ears and necks. His aurbesh tattoo inscribed with the words VODE AN curved around his neck and led down onto his chest.
“We’re all we got; we need to lift each other up.” Picket closed his eyes as his brother’s gentle hands moved down and stroked his neck, letting himself soak up his Ori’vods words.
....
Pickett couldn’t hear Clyde anymore. At least he had thought it was Clyde, ragged wet breathing sounded the same from anyone. The thought of losing another batchmate made something heavy and dark sink into his stomach like stones.
“Clyde!” Pickett waited, desperate for the heavy painful sound of his brothers breathing to start up again. “Vod?!”
Pickett twisted his head as far as it could possibly go. From the very corner of his peripheral vision, he could see the orange stripes that indicated Clyde’s chest plate. There was blood. Too much blood. A deep low groan surged out of Pickett’s throat. Not Clyde. Heavy-footed, hardheaded, stubborn, playful, kind Clyde. But there was too much. Picket knew no one was coming for them, no one to make Clyde’s heart beat again. He didn’t know if he could stand watching them force a rhythm back into his body that he wouldn’t be able to take.
......
“Hey Pick.” Clyde had said as he set his tray down beside him in the mess hall.
Pickett had barely looked up from his food, choosing instead to stare down at the plate like he might find something besides the bland nutrition meal he had been given.
“Pickett?” Clyde questioned again. “What’s going on up there?” He gave Pickett’s temple a tap.
“Nothing.” He half mumbled, shoving another spoonful of hash into his mouth.
The memory of their last unsuccessful training module bubbled up in his memory again. Picket had been much too slow, and the group had paid for it. Had they been in the field Picket most surely would have been in med bay and Clyde would be dead. Almost having sensed what he was mulling over Clyde playfully jostled Pickett’s shoulder.
“Quit worrying about that. Its over. It was just practice we can do better. Were all fine.”
“What if it wasn’t Clyde?” Pickett questioned, his honey brown eyes searching up to meet his brother’s identical ones.
Clyde had given him that infuriating sideways smirk, “Come on Pick, you know we’re better than that. And if it does end up that way you can make sure I’d give them hell before going out and I’ll be thinking about you boys the whole time through.”
...
Picket wasn’t sure how long he had been trapped under the twisted metal hull. An hour? Two hours, thirty minutes? His entire life? The pain in his back and legs was slowly fading and that frightened him worse than if he was in agony. He wondered how much he was bleeding to become numb. Losing feeling was never good. “End it. Please just let it stop.” He could feel Magnus still pressed into his back. The hard edge of his twin’s plastoid armor pushed so hard into his back he knew it would leave bruises if they ever got out of the position, they were in. “Pickett?” Magus quiet whisper broke the heavy feeling of death around them.
“Magnus!” Pickett whispered back. He tried to turn his head to gaze at his brother. His neck turned a bit before he felt Magnus’s heavy hand balance on the side of his face.
“No Pick, don’t look.” Magus coughed, it sounded wet and painful. “You’re not too bad off. If someone comes soon, you’ll be just fine.”
“Magnus.” Pickett whimpered.
“Don’t look Pickett. Don’t look.” Magnus’s hand on his face spasmed a bit and then rested over Pickett’s eyes. “You’ll be alright.” Magnus’s breathing was becoming more and more ragged. Pickett swore he could feel his twin’s life seeping out of him.
“Stay with me.” Pickett knew he wouldn’t. Not in time. No one was coming for them. It hurt, he hurt, everything hurt.
“Magnus.” Pickett whispered again. “Don’t go, don’t leave.”
“I’m sorry Pick. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t go.”
“Shhhhhh.” The tears burned and rose in his eyes. He leaned his head back onto his brother’s chest. His throat bobbed up and down. He couldn’t stop the sob that built up into him.
“Shhhhhh.”
Picket shut his eyes, trying to feel like he was somewhere else, anywhere else.
"I’m not in the gunship. I’m in my bunk, back on Kamino. Magnus has had a nightmare and were both under our threadbare blue blankets. He’s holding onto me, and I am pressed into his chest. Bouncer is sleeping in the bunk to the right of us by the door. He insisted that he sleep there when we were first placed in this barrack. He wouldn’t say why but I know its to protect us. Clyde is sleeping above us. He snores. He’s always snores. Magus’s hair is tickling my face. Bouncer says it’s getting a bit too long for regulation but neither of us care. The other troopers say if one of us cuts its shorter they would be better able to tell me and him apart. But we like that we are identical. Sometimes we pretend are the only two identical brothers. Bouncer says he'll take us to get tattoos after our first mission. Me and Magnus will get the same one in the same spot. I can hear Clyde mumbling in his sleep. Does he ever stop talking? Bounce sure doesn’t think so, he swears Clyde came out of the tube speaking. Magnus is shifting a little bit in his sleep. I’m wondering if he’s dreaming again. I don’t want him to, he rarely gets good sleep when he dreams. He needs more rest, we all do. I’ll squeeze myself tighter into his chest and he’ll wrap his arms more securely around me. Sleep Magnus. It’s ok we’re all right here."
Pickett jolted awake when Magnus stopped breathing. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t scream or cry or shout for help. He huddled closer to his twin, letting himself soak up the last bit of warmth left in his brother’s body. He tried to will his breathing to slow. Tried making his heart beats grow further and further apart. No one was coming for them. He didn’t want them too anyways. He was the last one left. He was surprised to find tears trickling softly down his nose and cheek, making Magnus’s hand wet and slippery. His breath shuddered and he let the taught muscles in his body relax in his twins hold. He did not force himself to sleep. He just waited, letting the tears ebb and flow until a gentle calmness filled his chest like smoke. All he had left to do was wait.
....
“Hey Pick.” Bouncer was perched on the edge of his bed when he woke up the next morning, still wrapped up in Magnus’s hold. His Ori’vod’s hand ran soothingly up and down his hair. “You two sleep ok last night?”
Pickett shrugged, hoping the small motion wouldn’t jostle Magnus enough to wake him. “I’m fine…..a little worried about him though.”
Bouncer’s mouth quirked up slightly, half as a smile and half as concern. “I know kid. I’ve been a little worried about him to. He’ll be ok. We all will.”
Clyde came bounding into the room, still soaking wet from his shower. “Pickett!” He shouted as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.
This was enough to wake Magnus who tightened his grip on Pickett before burying his nose in his brother’s hair.
“Come on you two! Get ready you’re going to miss breakfast!”
“How the hell do we have the same genetics?” Magnus grumbled into Pickett’s hair. “I have never once understood how he can get up as early as he does and still have enough energy to run laps around us.”
Bouncer chuckled and then ruffled Magnus’s identical curls. “He has a point though, up you two come on.” Bouncer rose from the bunk and the twins sat up in bed.
Magnus had somewhat dark circles under his eyes still.
“Morning Mag.” Pickett said with as much cheer as he could inject into his voice as possible.
“Morning Pickett.” Magnus responded, bumping their foreheads together. He seemed to have perked up since he had been woken by Clyde’s loud greeting. “Come on let’s go eat!” Magnus stated before Pickett could ask him how he had slept.
His brother gripped his wrist and tugged him up with him. Before they could get very far Pickett stopped in his tracks and wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck. Magnus seemed slightly taken aback but returned the hug, burying his nose in the crook of Pickett’s neck.
“Love you.” Pickett mumbled, trying to infuse as much love and honesty as he could into his voice.
“Love you too Vod.” Magnus said. “Now come on!” He broke off the hug, “let’s not keep the others waiting.”
Pickett sighed and let his twin lead him to the others.