Chapter Text
Fox woke kneeling.
Or rather, resurfaced.
1010 had completed it’s mission then.
The backhand sent him flying, sprawled to the carpet.
“Sir?”
“You... you scraped by this one. And only just. Your... your inability to fulfil simple Orders, you almost compromised everything, and worse, you put Skywalker’s life in danger. You know how vital he is.”
Vital to something, certainly, he was important to Palpatine for plans he wasn’t privy too, but then Fox also didn’t know what it was he’d almost compromised.
“I will do better Sir.”
“You better. If you hadn’t managed to execute the leak, the whole project could have been exposed. Thankfully you did succeed at that, and before information could get out, I can cover up the chips.”
The chips, the chips! Someone had nearly exposed the chips.
He'd been used to stop their own freedom.
He couldn’t remember, but he had the distinct feeling this wasn’t the first time.
He was slammed into a wall a few times, before being allowed to stumble back to base. His comm buzzed and he squinted down at it.
-Monster-
-Traitor-
-Murderer-
What?
The barrack doors opened and he was caught before he could hit the floor, arms holding him up, eyes that shone with understanding and worry and pity. Something had happened, then. The same reason as the messages maybe?
Was it because he’d been close to Skywalker, or that Skywalker had been in danger.
Or... something.
He was handed over to other arms, Fix’s arms, being laid into it and checked over. Fix had that same look in his eyes, as he wrapped a bandage around his arm where the desk had caught it and then the world was dark.
.
Fox woke in the arms of his vode, as if they were trying to shield him.
Fox woke to more messages.
Fox woke to more concern.
What had made this Blackout so different?
Why was this Blackout mission different?
His vode showed him the security footage and he understood.
Traitor, they called him, monster.
Murderer.
But it had been 1010, not him.
And... and it wasn’t just random vode sending these messages, not just the 501 st .
It was Cody and Wolffe and Ponds and Bly and Rex’ika.
They'd called him dar’vod, disowned him from the batch.
Without question, without hesitation, they’d cast him out.
Because of something Palpatine did, something 1010 did.
Palpatine had unleashed Fox against a vod, turned him against one of their own.
Why did he bring Fox back?
1010 completed missions, and Fox just broke a little more every time he woke up. 1010 was efficient and Fox was curled up in his vode’s arms feeling utterly undeserving and cold and numb.
1010 didn’t have to think or care, 1010 just did.
Why did he always force Fox back into his body. Fox remembered very little of being 1010, of being that, except in his nightmares. But he remembered floating away once, while it worked.
He'd like to float away and never come back.
1010 could work until it dropped, 1010 could work until it broke.
If it meant Fox could be free of this.
His batch hated him, they’d given up on him, they’d believed it without a thought.
Believed that he was capable of... that.
Once upon a time Wolffe had joked that Fox would have rather died than ever harm a vod.
Once upon a time they’d all known it.
Now... now everything was different.
A batch was 5 and Fox wasn’t part of it. A batch was loyal and they’d... they’d betrayed him. They turned on him when they were supposed to have had his back.
And they didn’t even know for certain it was him.
All it had taken was someone in his armour shotting a vod, and he was a monster.
No questions, no theories on why, no wondering if someone had stolen his armour, or if he was under duress.
Nothing.
Just Fox the vod killer.
“Fox please, you need to eat something.”
“Just a few sips, please.”
“Ori’vod, we’re worried about you.”
“Fox please, please just say something.”
“We know you didn’t do it by choice vod, we know it was him, it was 1010. They... it doesn’t look like they even know about the chips vod, I don’t think the Jedi use them, I don’t think the Jedi know about them. None of them understand. But we do. And we still need you, please, come back to us ori’vod please.”
“It’s ok, Fox, just rest. We've got you. And we’ll be here when you come back to us. We won’t leave you, Fox. Rest, we’ll be here.”
.
Fox had two plans.
One, he could ask Palpatine not to bring him back. To leave him as 1010. Beg to stay like that.
It would solve his problems.
But not his vod’ike’s. They'd still be stuck here, stuck with him. They'd still be in danger, and if he was 1010, Palpatine would have to give some of his duties to them. Or worse put everyone under the chips.
He didn’t want that for them. They still had hope and batchmates and personality and value. They had drive and energy.
Fox had so little of anything left.
But he didn’t want to put them in any more danger, he didn’t want them hurting. He didn’t want them tortured in his place, or taking on his paperwork or anything.
And he never wanted 1010 to be turned on a vod again.
And now that Palpatine knew it would work, he would be.
So option two it was.
Get the chip out. Fox was willing to admit that performing brain surgery on himself was a stupid idea, but he got his name for his cunning and his ability to think his way through any problem.
Or because he once kicked over the bins as a cadet and screamed in terror when something jumped out of it when he was a Kamino, who was to say.
No, he wasn’t performing surgery on himself, and he knew Fix couldn’t do it. Their medics had tried, they’d even found them with a scan once, on a mission off world where they had access to good medical equipment. How they’d kept it from the ships crew he wasn’t sure, but they’d found the chips.
Fox knew where it was.
And he had a plan to get it out.
He would succeed.
And so he waited. There was always someone with him, to look after him, but tonight was just Fix, and Fix was exhausted. Fox scribbled an apology to him, on one of the many notes he had for his wall, for sneaking off while he slept, and in case this didn’t work.
It was going to work.
He didn’t don his armour before he slipped out of the med bay, out of the barracks. With his armour, he’d be recognisable as Fox, without it, thanks to Palpatine slowing his ageing and blacks being the one standard thing across the GAR, Fox looked like a shiny.
The Jedi were good people, his vode had said.
The Jedi were too kind for their own good, too kind to the clones, Palpatine had said.
The Jedi wouldn’t turn away a shiny stumbling onto the Temple steps with a horrific head wound.
They'd have to scan him... they’d find the chip.
They’d look, if his vode’s claims were anything to go by.
They'd look deep, if Palpatine’s worry was anything to go by.
All he needed was a head wound... and then his vode would have a chance, the Corries, all of them.
And if Fox didn’t come back, well, well then he didn’t, and his duty was done.