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Fox blinked open his eyes and groaned as he felt the cool metal of his desk under him. He must have fallen asleep working again. Tonic was going to scold him for an hour if he found out. Yawning, Fox sat up and stretched his arms behind his back. His muscles felt oddly tense. Maybe he should go to the gym for a bit and wake up before resuming his tasks.
Fox pushed his chair back and stood up, wincing as pain circled his spine and around his left arm. Frowning, Fox thought about what he could've done to cause an injury. He spent today as normal. Filled out datapads, did a shift in the senate dome, ate a ration, had a meeting with the Chancellor….
What did he do after the Meeting? Fox leaned his hands against his desk; eyes furrowed in confusion. What was the meeting even about? This wasn't good. He couldn't remember the last portion of the day.
Fox grabbed his helmet and walked out of his office. He could figure this out. He just needed to trace his steps. Maybe his helmet recorded something. Fox clipped the helmet to his belt and walked down to his quarters; he was okay. Everything was fine.
"Hey, Fox!" Thire called out, jogging to catch up with the commander. "Have you– woah. What happened?"
Fox stopped walking and looked at Thire, perplexed. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you not…." Thire paused and looked around the empty hall. Thire grabbed Fox's arm and pulled him into an empty room. The store hissed shut behind them, and Fox glared at his Commander, "Your neck. There's burns or something on your neck." Thire pointed out.
“Burns?” Fox brushed his fingers against his neck, freezing as they ran over a bump. A small sting weaved its way around his skin. “What…”
Fox thought back to the pain that had been bothering him since he woke up and the missing memories. Eyes widening, Fox swiftly stripped his upper armor off, allowing the pieces to clutter to the ground. Thire watched in shock as Fox pulled down the top of his blacks, revealing more burns.
“Fox…” Thire whispered, hands twitching.
Glancing at his chest and arm, Fox’s breath caught at the lightning pattern of burns that were covering his left half. Fox’s hands shakingly traced the burns, his eye twitching in pain. The burns were raised welts zipping and weaving in a pattern similar to a lightning strike. Fox felt sick as it dawned on him that something unnatural caused them.
“Thire, call Tonic,” Fox whispered, not moving.
“On it.” Thire walked out of the room, leaving Fox alone to his thoughts.
His mind was whirring, endless possibilities flooding it. Temporary amnesia? No, that didn’t sound right; he didn’t have a head wound. Maybe he somehow got drugged. Fox shook his head, growing frustrated. No, not that, either. He would certainly remember the events before it. Ambushed was out of the question also. How did Fox lose the memory of six hours? What happened to him?
Fox’s chest constricted as panic set in. Memory failure was a sign of a defective unit in droids, and the Kaminoans designed him and his brothers to be flesh-droids. He wasn’t defective; there was no way. He’s never had issues with his memory before. So why now? What made this time different? His fist clenched, and he kicked his helmet, watching his clatter against the flooring and hit the wall.
He had to figure this out. Trauma response? No, it couldn’t be that. Fox leaned his back against the wall, eyes growing distant. What to do? What to do? He couldn’t just admit to not remembering, but how would he explain the burns? Tonic wasn’t an easy person to fool, and Thire was probably spilling everything he picked up.
The door to the room opened, and Tonic rushed in, Thire right behind him. “Fox, Kriff.” the medic muttered, setting his case down. Tonic pulled Fox away from the wall, and his eyes widened in shock. “What happened.”
Fox looked at Tonic blankly. “I don’t know,” he confessed.
Tonic and Thire shared a worried look before the medic began examining the wounds. “These aren’t natural, Fox.”
“I know,” Fox growled.
Tonic sighed and brushed his fingers along the burns on Fox’s shoulder. “They’ll definitely scar. Pray they fade over time.” Tonic continued as he pulled out the bacta to apply to the worst burns. “Some are already healing on their own. The worst seems to be on your lower back.”
Fox nodded and looked over at Thire. “Neither of you is to breathe a word of this to anybody. Understood?”
“No.” Thire crossed his arms.
“Excuse me?”
“How are we going to figure out what happened if we don’t tell Thorn or Stone? They deserve to know.” Thire was pissed, but Fox could tell the anger wasn’t towards him. “Someone caused those burns, Fox. We need to find out who.”
“If I can’t remember anything, we will never find out.” Fox pointed out, watching the crestfallen look on Thire grow.
“We have to do something,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, Thire, but there is nothing we can do.”
Tonic huffed and stepped away from Fox. “Yes, actually, there is something you can do.” the medic declared, Fox looking at him intrigued. “The wounds will heal in time, but you, Fox, are showing signed of dehydration and exhaustion. You need to drink water and rest. That’s what you can do.”
Fox scowled; he should have known that’s what Tonic would say. “I can’t; I’m busy.”
“Not too busy to get five hours of sleep per the medic's orders.” Tonic snipped back, Thire raising his eyebrows. Only Fox tended to disobey Tonic’s orders. Tended was the wrong word; Fox never listened to Tonic.
Fox shook his head, “three hours, minimum.” he tried to bargain.
“I say take it, Tonic. Fox is too geared up to sleep for long.” Thire moved around the room, picking up the pieces of Fox’s armor.
“Fine.” Tonic snapped. “But sleep, and meanwhile, Thire will look into Senate Security to look for your whereabouts. We’ll find out what happened to you.”
Fox closed his eyes in contemplation. There was no harm in checking the security feed. “Alright, but be careful.”
“We will.” Thire nodded and started picking up Fox’s armor.
Fox reached down and picked up his helmet, staring into the visor. It was likely they would never figure out what happened, but Fox had to hold onto hope that they did. He could trust his men to watch out for anyone suspicious, and he could trust himself to follow his instincts. Everything would work itself out. Hopefully.