Work Text:
Fox’s inner comm crackles, nearly causing Fox to flinch at the sudden intrusion. Only the Chancellor’s presence, sitting behind his desk while he takes a call, is what prevents Fox from shifting.
Someone is connecting to him. Short range. In the Senate Building, that means trouble.
“Hey, you!” It’s Gomez, one of Thorn’s men. He’s following protocol, ensuring that there’s a witness to whatever confrontation he’s about to face. “This is a restricted area, you can’t be up here!”
There’s a muffled sound, like the beginning of a struggle, before Gomez suddenly speaks.
“You have a meeting with Chancellor Palpatine. We’ve been expecting you.”
His voice is monotone, almost robotic. It sends shivers up Fox’s spine, and he finally moves, catching the Chancellor’s attention as he comes to stand by the man’s side.
“Possible security risk, sir, be aware,” he says quietly, trying not to interrupt the meeting.
Palpatine nods, distracted by the rambling senator on the other line, but Fox can see the way he tenses, eyes darting towards the door.
There’s a few strained minutes as Fox listens to Guard after Guard go down on his inner comms, each repeating the same phrase as they let the intruder pass them by.
“You have a meeting with Chancellor Palpatine. We’ve been expecting you.”
Fox has never made contact with a Sith, barely even knows what they’re capable of if he’s being honest, but this sure sounds like mental control to him!
When the doors suddenly burst open, he’s ready—only to falter at the last moment, when it isn’t the enemy he was anticipating, but rather, a mixed group of Jedi and troopers.
Cody and Kenobi are there, of course—wherever there’s trouble, those idiots can’t keep their noses out of it. There’s also Rex, and one of his troopers—an ARC, guessing by the armor, though Skywalker is nowhere to be seen.
Mace Windu is there too, along with Plo Koon and their clone commanders.
Fox stares back at the old class reunion that’s facing him—the only one missing is Bly.
None of them are looking at him, however. They’ve got their gazes and blasters trained on the Chancellor.
“Chancellor Palpatine,” Windu begins, voice grave. “You are under arrest for conspiring with the separatists, violating the sentient rights of Coruscanti citizens, and crimes against the Republic. To name a few.”
His face is steady, words dry in a way that makes Fox want to laugh, though he knows it would be slightly hysterical.
Palpatine, the man responsible for sending Fox’s men to their deaths, on the field and in the medbay and all the way back to Kamino, violating sentient rights? Who would’ve guessed?
Almost as one, the Jedi all light their sabers, and Fox immediately draws his blaster.
Palpatine frowns. He waves a hand to cut off communication, saying; “Senator Amedda, I believe we will have to finish this meeting at another time. I have some unexpected guests.”
Fox is too well-trained to fidget, but he certainly isn’t comfortable. His blaster is ready and loaded, but he keeps it pointed at the ground.
The instructors on Kamino had drilled it into their heads: never point a blaster at someone unless you’re prepared to fire it.
Fox has killed sentients before. But pulling the trigger on one of his vode is a whole different matter.
Palpatine doesn’t even blink at the accusation.
He stands, moving to Fox’s side, apparently uncaring of all the weapons pointed in his direction.
“That is quite the serious claim, Master Windu,” he says mildly. “Do you have any proof?”
The ARC steps forward, bristling. “We have proof of chips being implanted in the clones, on your orders! Chips that could make us do anything—including help you overthrow the Republic!”
What the fuck. Fox sure hopes that’s wrong, because otherwise he has a lot of thinking to do regarding all the shady spots in his memory over the past three years.
“Well,” Palpatine blinks, a tinge of surprise on his face. “I suppose that would do it. Commander, if you would do me a favor?”
Drawn in by an invisible thread, Fox turns his head to look into the Chancellor’s eyes.
“Activate Order 66.”
Wolffe jolts, audibly snarling, the rest of their group tensing, and Fox—
Fox awkwardly clears his throat. “Sir?”
At that, Palpatine actually frowns.
“I see. I suppose that was inevitable after so much use,” he tuts. “Lucky for you, Commander, you can still be of assistance to your Master.”
He moves—quicker than a man his age should be able to, quicker than Fox can react—and suddenly Fox is being manhandled, thrust in front of the desk with a red lightsaber humming by his chest, the ominous light reflecting off his helmet.
Oh. So Palpatine is a Sith. That makes sense, honestly.
“Don’t try it,” Windu warns, his own blade lit, stance tense.
But why bother? This is their chance! Palpatine is on the defensive, why aren’t they—
“Your weakness betrays you, Master Windu,” Palpatine taunts, moving his saber just that inch closer to Fox, scoring a deep line in his chest plate. “Will you kill the clone to save the Republic? Or damn the galaxy to save one useless wretch?”
Okay, that’s actually a bit hurtful.
Fox tries to lean back, testing Palpatine’s awareness, but the Sith responds instantly, pressing the point of his saber right at Fox’s ribcage.
That would be a slow, messy death.
“Say goodbye, Commander,” the Chancellor says, voice as cold as Fox has ever heard it.
Fox is facing away from him, looking out towards the crowd in the office, Jedi and vode alike.
Everyone is looking at Palpatine. All the vode, too, staring at that bastard while Fox is about to die.
No one told him that there would be a raid on the Chancellor’s office. If they had, he could have made sure that he wasn’t such a fucking security risk, could have ensured that he wouldn’t be kept as a hostage now, used as a weapon against these soft-hearted idiots that won’t take the shot while he’s in the way.
Well, Fox can solve at least one of those problems.
“Fuck you,” he says—to Palpatine, to the Jedi, to the vode that didn’t trust him enough to tell him anything let alone the fact that his direct superior was a goddamn separatist.
And then he jerks himself forward, letting the lightsaber pierce through his chest and gratefully closing his eyes to avoid the chaos that follows.