Chapter Text
Fox expected it now. Every time a battalion was on shore leave, it was guaranteed that the Coruscant Guard were to be called out to remove an overly intoxicated trooper from the premises. Even with CO’s explicitly stating and reiterating the consequences of such actions (getting absolutely ratarsed) there were always a few who seemed to forget everything said the minute alcohol was introduced into the equation. It was a nightmare, but he’d rather deal with it himself and give his men the time off they needed. It’s not like he’d be sleeping anyway.
With that said, as of late, he’s had a particularly persuasive reason not to take drunk duty, and instead sleep better hours. That reason had been sitting right across from him when he’d gotten the call. She’d been smiling as she tapped away at her datapad, unknowingly distracting him from the work he should’ve been doing. She’d looked up at him when his comm chimed, her smile barely dropping while her eyes told him what she really felt. It was disarming in a way that he couldn’t look away from her, only remembering his comm when she glanced at it out of the corner of her eyes.
“Fox,” he spoke into the comm, knowing what was coming and dreading the fallout.
“We have a… situation, sir.” He rubbed his hand down his face, holding back a groan that he knew had been building for the past two weeks. The first few nights a battalion was back on Coruscant were always the absolute worst.
“The usual?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
The voice at the other end took a few moments to respond, “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be there.” He disconnected and looked back up at Riyo, her features immediately easing the tension from that comm call. She was just so beautiful. “Duty calls,” he said, in lieu of apologising, because what was the point when she only ever complained when he apologised? She nodded, her smile now only a ghost of what had once been there. It was still sweet, but Fox could tell she was disappointed - not that he could blame her, he was disappointed, too.
“I suppose it’s best if I return home then.” Her datapad was neatly tucked away in her bag at her feet, but she hadn’t moved from the curled up position she was in, on the chair in front of him. He really hated her leaving: it was always the worst part of his day.
“Please don’t go alone, take someone with you,” he urged, reaching for his helmet as he stood from his seat. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’d feel better if you had someone with you.” He rounded his desk, fully prepared to leave, when she finally pulled herself from the chair, and took his helmet from his hands. He didn’t see her place it back down, far too focused on her face, but the click of the plastoid hitting his desk was unmistakable. Even though he knew he ought to hurry, he couldn’t look away from her (couldn’t deny her anything really) his gaze locked in some sort of hypnotic dance with hers. Her hands came up and rested on both sides of his face, surprise filling him (less so with the more she did it) that she was touching him. The first time she’d done it, he’d jerked away from her without thinking (far more used to nat-borns using touch as a weapon against him). She was the first one to touch him (aside from brothers) and mean it affectionately.
“I will. I promise,” she agreed and brought his face down nearer her level. She kissed each cheek, finishing with a gentle kiss on the lips, before handing his helmet back to him. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I should think so.” Hooking her bag over her shoulder, she beamed at him, only briefly, and followed him to his office door. It took but a few steps, and their time together was already up. They’d be going their separate ways from here.
“Good, I’m looking forward to it already. I’ll message you when I’m home safe. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replied and then she was gone, leaving Fox to the absolute mess he knew was headed directly for him.
The clone bar was packed, as it usually was on nights like this one, which only made his job that much more of a nightmare. He so badly just wanted to return to his office, or even just go and spend the night with Riyo. Before then, he’d never slept in a bed so soft and had never slept more than 3 hours at a time, so to say it was an improvement was an understatement. Attempting to turn his concentration back to the issue at hand, Fox moved away from the front entrance and into the crowd. That’s when he got the message from Riyo. She’d just gotten back to her apartment, her clone escort ensuring her place was secure, and that they’d just left. As always, she signed off with a little heart. Smiling to himself, he spent two seconds more picturing her perfect, beautiful face before reluctantly leaving his thoughts behind. Fox had a job to do, and he’d rather get it done as soon as possible.
Through the throngs of clones and other people he’d rather not interact with, he could just about make out two of his men, identifiable not only by the red paint but the fact that they both still wore their helmets, holding onto another clone who could very obviously barely stand. The blue was a dead giveaway, instant dread washing over him at the prospect of having to deal with one of Rex’s men. Not that they were the worst, because they weren’t - that honour was given to 18th Battalion. Even so, they still weren’t the nicest drunks to deal with, so it was no surprise Fox was called in specifically to deal with him.
Upon reaching the opening where they were, he was finally spotted, both troopers snapping to attention (as best they could whilst grasping at a very unbalanced clone). “Commander!” they greeted, perfectly in sync with one another. To anyone else, this would have been a high level of synchronicity to achieve and attain, but for someone who was created for perfection (not that the Kaminoans actually reached that standard, because who can? What even is perfect?) Fox didn’t even bat an eye.
“At ease, troopers.” They relaxed, but considering he was still standing in front of them, only enough to be comfortable. He looked around to see if he could spot any of this clone’s friends but when nothing jumped out at him, he turned back to the two troopers still holding him. Turning on his internal comm, so they could communicate easier over the drone of the bar, Fox crouched down in front of the clone.
“Alright, boys, I’ll take him from here. I want you two to ask around. See if you can find out exactly what happened, apart from him being off his face,” he told them, turning the drunk clone's head this way and that, looking for any distinguishable marks. On the right side of his head, he spotted it. Just above his temple, was a stylised five in black ink. Obviously, it meant something to him, as tattoos usually did to clones. It was one of the only forms of individuality they had. Personal expression meant a lot to clones and Fox knew that.
Lifting him up from the heap he was in with barely more than a grunt, Fox nodded his troopers off and dragged the poor sod out of the bar and toward the speeder assigned to this specific incident. If he hadn’t done this more than a hundred times, he was sure there’d have been a much larger incident unravelling now, but luckily for everyone involved, Fox was quick and efficient, heading back to HQ with the drunk bastard in the back. Finally free from that hellhole, Fox took a moment for himself to breathe. His job really was awful.
“You know the drill, Pray. Overnight and out in the morning,” he told their medic and only turned to go when he got a nod of acknowledgement, “I’m going back to my office.” With that out of the way, Fox found his way to the mess and grabbed himself a mug of caf. The place was empty, lights down low, only accentuated by the occasional hum they produced. Fine by him - he could take his helmet off in peace, then. He poured out the bitter liquid, necked it down and then took a refill before leaving. He’d been told, once he’d arrived back at HQ, by the trooper that had contacted him originally, that no one had been found that could identify the sloshed clone. He relented in the search, ordered his men back to base, and accepted that identifying him would have to wait until tomorrow morning.
Just as the mess had been, his office was dark and empty. Usually the calmness of it would have settled him, but tonight it was only doing the opposite. His nerves were alight, and he couldn’t find it in himself to settle in - not that it mattered, because he had to work whether he liked it or not. Reports weren’t ever going to write themselves. Determined to finish by the time his morning shift rolled around, Fox settled in for another long night.
Apparently, he’d gotten absolutely pissed, off his face, hammered, sloshed - or any number of adjectives that he couldn’t be bothered to recite now - last night and then dragged back to Coruscant Guard HQ. Which was great … because he was totally best friends with their CO. Now, he was on a bed in what he assumed was their med bay, hooked up to an IV, whilst his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. At least someone had the intelligence to keep the lights down low with the headache that he could feel worsening by the minute.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” someone shouted as the door to his room came sliding open. At least, he thought it was shouting… The voice was obnoxiously loud and he wondered if it was Echo getting payback for all the times he himself had been an arse. But then, it couldn’t have been, because Echo was called back last night to go over something in his report that just couldn’t wait. Not that Echo really cared, if Fives remembered correctly. Sometimes, he really wondered how they were related.
The voice continued, and before he had time to register what he was saying, Fives had covered his ears and rolled to the side. A groan tore from him at the roll, sudden nausea rising up in him. Launching from the bed, the IV dislodging in the process, Fives made it barely two steps before his head pulsed and he was on the floor. But, hey! It was cool and refreshing compared to the sickly warmth of the bed and it almost immediately had the nausea receding back to the depths of his stomach.
“I told you not to move.” With his eyes closed, he still hadn’t seen who it was but the way that he spoke to him really made him think it was Echo. Maybe he had come to retrieve him the morning after? Yeah, he was sure of it. Even if Echo rolled his eyes at him sometimes, he knew he still loved him. They were twins, they had to annoy each other whenever they got the chance! When finally his curiosity got the better of him, he popped one eye open to take a peek, only to groan again when it turned out to not be Echo.
“Go away,” he muttered into the floor, hoping it would encourage the other man to leave. Alas, his wishes were not granted and his pleas were ignored, because (either he hadn’t heard him or elected to ignore him) he took a seat in the terribly uncomfortable chair by the bed. (Fives knew all about those chairs. He’d sat in one all night when Echo had been the one in the bed. Any other brother and he probably would have gotten up after a few hours, but this was Echo. They had an entirely different level of broship than with anyone else.)
“So, I heard Fox dragged you all the way here last night.” If those were the last words he ever had to hear, he’d be happy. Just as long as that meant he would die there and then and not come face to face with Commander Fox. That man downright terrified him. He breathed heavily onto the cool floor, still unwilling to move back to the bed, and debated with himself if he should even deign him with a response.
“You’re joking?” So it seemed talking had won out.
“I wish I was, brother. For your sake, I wish I was,” he replied, humourlessly, “He was royally pissed at you this morning, maybe not as pissed as when he was forced to sit through Stone’s volcano-lava-magma presentation though. So there’s that?” Thorn laughed at that, probably some inside joke, because Fives had absolutely no idea what he was blabbering on about. “Anyway, I remember he said something about how boys in blue cause chaos wherever they go, and maybe something about your Captain keeping a tighter leash on you? I don’t know exactly what he said, but it gave me something to laugh about when I woke up this morning.”
“Oh, great. So you’re here to laugh at me, not help me. Thanks,” he said, irritably. Hungover Fives was definitely not the nicest and that’s probably why Echo never came to visit him the morning after. Eh, he didn’t blame him in the end, because he knew he was difficult and who could be arsed to deal with his kind of attitude first thing in the morning?
Well, apparently this guy sat in here with him now. That he didn’t know the name of. (Fives actually didn’t really care for polite reasons, more so that he knew who to pick on when he was on shore leave.) That aside, evidently he found his sarcasm funny, or maybe it was the situation he was in. Either way, he was still laughing at him and that annoyed Fives to no end.
“I’m Thorn,” he introduced, once he’d stopped laughing, completely ignoring his previous rude remark. Fives perked up, only slightly, at that information - for reasons previously explained.
“Okay.” He dropped his head back onto the cold floor and let his eyes shut of their own accord.
“You’re not gonna tell me your name?” he asked, and Fives could hear the chair creak as he shifted forward, closer to him on the floor.
“Nah.”
“You want to stay here then?” he asked, clearly trying to egg him on and reveal his name. Jokes on him, egging people on was something Fives was a professional at doing.
“It’s not like I’m heading anywhere at this rate, thanks.”
“Look,” he continued, and Fives was sensing some sort of frustration bubbling to the surface. Good. “We can’t let you go, if you don’t tell us your name. We would have used the chip in your arm to identify you, but it would seem someone decided it was a good idea to cut it out on their own.” Well, that wasn’t good. He’d hoped he could avoid anyone ever finding out about that, but they had, and all because he’d ended up four to the floor. They knew now though, so it wasn’t like they could use it any further against him - unless they wanted him sent back to Kamino. Nah, they wouldn’t. As he kept his silence, Thorn clearly took it as an opportunity to further goad him into talking. “Okay, seeing as you’re not talking, I’m guessing you don’t really care about us knowing. I’m going to assume, however,” Fives really didn’t like the tone of his voice and, subsequently, where this would undoubtedly lead, “that you would care if a certain… Commander found out, though. Wouldn’t you?”
Fives had never been so humiliated and somehow proud at the same time in his life. This man, whom he’d only just met minutes prior, was blackmailing him! Maybe, just maybe, he was okay in his books after all. “Fine. You got me. My name’s Fives.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed, more than proud of himself, as he stood up from the chair. It screeched across the floor from the abrupt movement and, from his place on it, Fives hurried to cover his ears before his brain processed the ungodly sound. Oh, how he longed for the noise dampeners of his helmet, the ones he was sure Thorn was making great use of now. The man didn’t even flinch at the sound! “Nice to meet you, Fives. Wanna get back into bed now?”
Defeated, Fives didn’t even bother to look up. What was the point? He’d see nothing but glee in his movements if he looked up, and why would he want to rub more salt into his wounded ego? “Not particularly.”
“Eh, good luck with Pray then,” he said and walked out the door. It took a moment for him to register what he meant and when it did, Fives’ head rocketed up. GAR medics were notoriously difficult to reason with, but he’d heard from multiple other brothers that the CG’s medic was brutal. Many stories had come and gone about the origins of his name, but they all seemed to have the same foundation: Pray was terrifying and everyone ever needing medical treatment prayed for their life before going to see him.
“Thorn, wait! Come back!” he called after him, desperate for his presence again. Anything was better than being alone with that terrifying medic.
Fives had escaped intact, no thanks to Thorn, and was now on his way to apologise to Commander Fox. If what he knew about last night and this morning was correct, he really should be kissing his boots and begging for forgiveness if he didn’t want Fox flying off the handle. All in all, he didn’t really think he’d done anything that bad, but then again he couldn't remember anything beyond the third (or maybe fourth?) drink he’d had, so who knew?
He headed down the main corridor to the offices, where he’d been sent specifically upon asking where he could find Commander Fox. HQ was barren, almost in the same way as the Venator, except, those felt sleek and new, whereas this building just looked old. It was almost like it was getting ready to keel over and die (Fives just hoped he was long gone when it did come crashing down). On his way there, he passed by multiple troopers and couldn’t help but frown under his helmet when they all looked roughly the same. Sure there were some discrepancies, but that was like listing the differences between tubies. It was hard to differentiate between them, compared to, say, him and Echo. It was easy to tell them apart that it wasn’t even funny, but most of the guards just seemed to have no individuality. It was actually kind of sad and it made him miss Echo more than he already had been.
Just up ahead was the Commander’s office, and the closer he got the further he wanted to run in the opposite direction. He was intimidating and Fives honestly didn’t know how he was going to swallow his pride for once and apologise. It really wasn’t in his nature to be obedient, and it was part of the reason he made such a great ARC Trooper. Fives was willing to bend the rules here and there to ensure the mission was completed with minimal casualties. Despite that though, he was still willing to make amends with the man on the other side of the door, for the sake of the battalion.
So, taking a deep breath, Fives stepped up to the door and walked inside… to an image he wouldn’t soon forget. A small blue woman in elaborate clothing stood closer to a bucketless Commander than any cot had, and he didn’t even seem shaken. Well, until he noticed Fives standing there. His face turned as red as his armour and when it did the woman reached up to his face. “Fox, what’s wr-” He spun her around and when she saw him, her face deepened into indigo, eyes growing as wide as saucers. Fives’ mouth dropped open under his helmet, completely gobsmacked at what he’d just walked in on. That was the Pantoran Senator, he was sure of it.
“Don’t you know how to knock?!” he yelled.
“Sorry, sir!” Sweat beaded across his forehead as Fives left his office, rattled to the core knowing that he’d absolutely blown any chance to reconcile with the Commander. Even so, he waited patiently, until the senator left too, purposefully avoiding eye contact and blatantly ignoring him. For someone who couldn’t help but dig for information, Fives desperately wanted to know what the kriff was going on? Upon hearing his name called to re-enter, Fives straightened automatically, and marched right into the heart of his fear: the Commander’s office. He stopped in front of his desk, where he was now sitting with his helmet replaced, and tried not to noticeably swallow.
“Well?” he started and it threw him off. His composure held none of the wrath he’d experienced minutes prior, rather something that could only be described as a tranquil fury. The calm before the storm, maybe? Anyway, well, what? What was he going on about? The earlier question? Oh. Yes, the earlier question.
“Yes, sir. I do know how to knock.”
“So, why didn’t you?” he followed through with, leaning further forward on his chair that it creaked with the movement. That was the question, wasn’t it? The one that was going to be the root cause of all of Fives’ future insecurities. Any correct answer he could give would only set him off again, he knew that. ‘Because I’m disobedient. Because I’ve never been the most polite of my brothers. Because I’m someone who likes to break the rules.’ None of them seemed like the right answer, but at the same time, he couldn’t just not answer. That would also just set him off. So, he went for a lie.
“I thought you knew I was coming, and when I got here I thought I heard you say my name, sir.”
“You thought you heard your name? I don’t even know your name, trooper. How could I have possibly called your name?” For someone who was so usually lucky, Fives’ day was not starting out great. He’d been left to his fate after Thorn had abandoned him, he’d walked in on a decidedly private meeting, and now Commander Fox had seen right through the lie. Of course, that meant he was jabbing him for real answers. One’s Fives just couldn’t bring himself to give. “So I’ll ask you again, why didn’t you knock? And choose your words carefully , trooper.”
Fives didn’t have a chance against Commander Fox’s seething rage, so in the end, he resigned himself to his fate, and prepared for his end. He watched as he pushed himself upright, and moved around his desk, standing just inches from himself. Then he spoke. “Because I’ve never knocked on anyone’s door before, sir.” Remarkably, his voice remained unshaken, unlike the fists of rage the Commander was currently keeping tucked by his sides. Maybe Commander Fox wasn’t all that scary after all; his brothers had certainly over exaggerated. If anything, he kind of liked the man.
“Do you have no respect for your senior officers, trooper? Because that's exactly what it seems like to me.” At the Commander’s words, Fives at least had the decency to be ashamed of himself, only briefly mind you. “Take the time to knock next time, trooper,” he ordered, his voice gruff and his personality severely lacking. Fives rolled his eyes under his helmet, unafraid, knowing he couldn’t be seen.
“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”
“You’re dismissed.” He walked back around his desk and reclaimed his rickety, old chair.
“Yes, sir!”
Fives had never been more relieved in his life to leave the Commander's presence. Not because he was terrified of him (he was growing on him) but because he could now speculate without having to focus on the Commander’s words. Fives cringed. The more he used the Commander’s rank the more unfriendly the whole exchange seemed - he was going to use his name. Fox.
His first order of business was trying to figure out what the Pantoran Senator was doing, that close to Fox. From what he’d heard of the man (not that any of that information was actually reliable anymore) he was not the kind of man to get caught up in whirlwind romances - illegal workplace affairs, especially! As he nodded at other brothers he passed in the halls, Fives came to the conclusion that if he was going to get to the bottom of this ‘scandal’ he’d need his most trusted brother. Fives was going to tell Echo.