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Fox keeps himself relaxed, posture loose. He’s been in this interrogation room plenty of times before, though admittedly on the other side of the glass.
If one of his own troopers was in charge, or hell, even a frontie, Fox would probably be a bit more tense. But instead, it’s a CSF officer that’s been ordered to direct his interview, so Fox is only struggling with trying to hold back his laughter instead.
Seriously. How many times can one man ask the same question? If Fox wasn’t feeling so damn tired, he’d assume he was trapped in some kind of hellish time loop.
“And you truly knew nothing about the Sith’s identity?” the natborn presses, and Fox shakes his head.
“No, sir.” He’s been repeating himself for damn near an hour at this point, but he’s used to that. No natborn ever believes a goddamn word he says, even if there’s no point in him lying.
Why the kriff would Fox be trying to cover for Palpatine now? The bastard is already dead, may his soul rot for eternity. And Fox thinks he’s been pretty clear about his utter disdain for the man, even before it turned out that he was a Sith.
The natborn sighs, standing up. He shakes his head, as if Fox has truly disappointed him.
“We’ll return to this subject later. For now, you can have a break, CC-1010. Someone is coming to visit you.”
For a moment, Fox entertains the thought that it might be Thorn, here with a big duffle bag so he can smuggle Fox back out, but he throws it aside.
Anyone coming to ‘visit’ him here isn’t a friend. He’s smart enough to know that much.
When the door slides open once more, it is a clone that comes through. One with a very distinctive armor pattern, at that.
Fox snorts, slouching as best he can with his hands handcuffed to the table.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says dryly.
The other commander shifts on his feet, reaching up to pull off his bucket. At least Cody looks equally uncomfortable about this whole thing, which Fox can take some comfort in.
“Fox,” he says, and then swallows.
Cody is a steady man, if nothing else. It’s something that the two of them have always had in common. Where others may panic or become emotional, Fox and Cody keep clear heads.
But Cody doesn’t look very steady right now.
“If you have something to say, say it,” Fox says, shoulders slumping. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. It’s been years since he and Cody have had a private conversation about something that isn’t work. And even this doesn’t really count, does it?
Cody is still for a second longer, brow furrowing, before he blows out a breath and comes over, sitting in the natborn’s chair at the opposite end of the table.
“Fox,” he says quietly. “Are you well?”
Fox glances down at his cuffed hands, raising a sarcastic brow. “Oh, as well as I can be.”
Cody sighs, scrubbing at his face. He looks like it’s been a long day, and if they had met under any other circumstance, perhaps Fox could have had a little pity for him.
But right now, Fox is just done.
There's anger building up inside him, bit by bit. Fox tries his best to choke it down, but it’s been building up for a very long time, and eventually, he’ll have no choice but to vomit it out. With any luck, Cody won’t be in the vicinity, but depending on how this conversation goes, Fox can’t guarantee anything.
“Look, Cody, what do you want?” Fox says, defeated. “I can’t handle much more of this today.”
Cody hesitates, glancing away as he steels his nerves.
“It’s about the Chancellor.”
Fox resists a groan. “Of course it is.”
Even with the bastard six feet in the ground, Fox just can’t catch a break.
“Fox, I know you,” Cody says, brows furrowing in mild frustration. “There’s no way that something as vital as Palpatine being a Sith managed to get by you. No one’s saying that you covered it up or anything like that, but you must have seen something.”
Do you really know me? Fox thinks, and he sighs.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he admits. He wishes his hands were free—he’s never wanted to try and soothe a headache quite as much as he wants to right now. “I’m not all-knowing. I’m not invincible. I’m just doing my best.”
“But your boss was a Sith!” Cody says incredulously, as if Fox could have possibly missed it. “A Seperatist! You really never noticed even a hint of enemy action from him?”
“Cody, how was I supposed to know?” Fox bursts out, frustration reaching a boiling point. “The Senate seemed perfectly willing to bypass their own laws at any opportunity! How was I supposed to be able to tell the difference between the Chancellor sabotaging the war effort and any other shitty thing he did?”
“If he was breaking the law, you should have told someone!” Cody retorts, slamming a hand on the table.
Fox nearly rises to his feet, and it’s only the cuffs keeping him strapped to the table that prevent him from swinging. Instead, he sits back down, heavily, visibly seething.
“Who should I have told, Cody?” Fox says, voice cold. “The other Senators? The same ones that pulled the exact same shit, that shamed and abused my men? The CSF that takes any excuse they can get to undermine us? The Senate Guard, who worked directly under Palpatine? The Jedi, who were all fighting and dying on the front just like the rest of us? And who would have cared, anyway? Most of them agreed with what was happening. Or if they didn’t, that sure as hell didn’t stop them from benefiting from it.”
“...What?” Cody whispers, all the fight draining out of him.
He looks lost. Like a shiny on their first day in the Senate Rotunda, where Fox has to break the news that they will see someone doing something illegal, or cruel, or just plain wrong and they will ignore it, because they do not have a choice.
“Senator Burtoni walks the halls of the Senate,” Fox says flatly. “We’re her best product, and she isn’t shy about saying it. If anyone disagrees, they’re not saying shit about it.”
There are Senators that are kind. There is kindness everywhere, Fox has found, so long as you put in the effort to find it. But Fox has to put in so much effort where it might be easy for a natborn, and it’s not fair. He’s tired of pretending that it is.
“You really couldn't do anything? ” Cody says, repeating himself helplessly. “You’re… you.”
That’s what it always comes down to. There’s a reason it’s Fox in here, and not any of the other Guard Commanders. Fox is different. The best of the best. He’s competent, calm, able to perform his duties regardless of any personal injury or upset.
Palpatine had once called him ‘the model clone’. It was the closest thing to a compliment that Fox had ever heard come out of that bastard’s mouth.
“I’m just Fox,” he says, and this time, he knows he’s saying it for the last time. “And I’m tired.”
Cody stares at him for a long, long moment. Then he swallows, nods, and stands up.
He grabs his helmet, tucking it under his arm. Heading for the door, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting you released, at least for the night,” Cody says quietly. “We’ll talk again later. Okay, vod?”
Fox closes his eyes, allowing himself just one second of weakness.
“Okay,” he replies, and pretends that the rage inside of him isn’t trying to tear its way out of his throat. “See you then, vod.”
It’ll have to be enough. Fox may not survive this otherwise.