Work Text:
Wolffe sipped at his caf as he scrolled through the datapad, noting every new transfer to the 104th. He made notes in another of how many shinies they got, where they were assigned, where extra training would be needed in areas with fewer seasoned troopers. Not that he had anything against the shinies and their training, but he knew that training on Kamino did not necessarily equal actual experience. And without as many seasoned soldiers to look out for them, they would need to take a more unconventional route and train many of them themselves in a few areas, to make sure things ran as smoothly as possible. He prided himself on the Wolfpack being a well-oiled machine, everyone knew how efficient they were.
He swore and screwed his eyes shut, rubbing them and pinching the bridge of his nose as the words on the screen began to blur together. He glanced up when he heard the door to his bunk slide open.
“Koh-to-yah, Wolffe.”
“Morning, General.”
Plo entered the room to stand beside him, taking in the state of the desk. He would take in the room as a whole, but it was clear that Wolffe hadn’t touched his bunk in a while.
“Are you doing alright, Commander?”
Wolffe sighed. “I’m fine, General. I just got the report of the last lot of troopers transferring. I’m going over them quickly.”
Plo hummed. Wolffe felt him watching as he reached for his caf, frowning when he realised the cup was empty. With a huff, he added it to the stack on the top corner of his desk.
“Have you been resting, Wolffe?”
He paused. He knew Plo already knew the answer to that. And he knew Plo knew that he knew. He put the datapad on the desk and tilted the chair back to stretch, ignoring the way the room spun slightly at the movement. “I’ll rest when I’m done, sir. A lot of work to get done before we’re deployed again.”
“The work will go by easier if you rest. The men can’t have their Commander collapsing on their first mission. I’m sure someone else can help if you need it.”
Wolffe rubbed his eyes and picked up the datapad. “I’ll sleep when I’m done. I’ll be fine, sir. Boost and Sinker need this time for themselves.”
“Surely there is some work for them to do during this transition period.”
Wolffe felt a fresh wave of pain and grief at the direct mention of the transition. He stifled a yawn and nodded. “There’s stuff lined up for them, but I don’t want them throwing themselves into this before they’re ready.”
He could hear the concern in Plo’s voice. “And you’re ready, Wolffe?”
He sighed and looked as Plo properly. “I have to be, sir. I’m their Commander. I’ll be fine.”
Plo hummed unhappily and watched him closely for a few long moments before turning to leave. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Wolffe couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment he felt as the door slid closed. His General needed this time to mourn too, but part of him had hoped he’d stick around a bit longer. But that would have distracted him from his work, he needed to make sure this transition was as seamless as possible.
He turned back to his datapads and got back to work. As he got back into the rhythm of it, he felt the sharp sting of fresh grief as he looked over the names of the men who would be replacing so many of his own. He wondered how many of these men he’d watch die in this war. The words on the screen blurred again, but this time he wiped fresh tears away before they could spill and got back to work.
He would never admit how heavy his body felt as he moved through the Hand of Justice. He found himself looking for landmarks that no longer existed as he made his way through the shiny new halls. There was no grey paint staining the floor between bunkrooms from when a trooper had dropped his freshly painted armour. There was no damaged control panel from when two troopers had a scuffle and it never got fixed. There was no graffiti of an explosion on the door of the weapons storage room. This ship felt alien, too shiny, too new, too unlived in. His exhausted mind pushed those feelings into the liminal and slightly unreal.
He pushed away those thoughts as the sounds of voices reached him. He had no idea how long he had been locked away in his bunkroom. He had gone through and organised the last of the new troopers when he noticed how hungry he was. He had blinked away spots, holding the desk for stability when he stood, before he left for the mess.
He stifled a yawn before entering the mess. The trip to get his food then sitting at a table seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, his body crying out in thanks as soon as he sat down.
“How are you holding up, Commander?”
Wolffe blinked up from where he had rested his head on his hand. Boost and Sinker sat across from him, their own trays almost empty. He hadn’t even realised he’d sat with them, his body operating on autopilot since he left his bunk room. “I’m fine.” He said gruffly.
He refocused on his food. Sometime on the walk over, he had lost his appetite, and now he just pushed the food around on the tray, lifting small bites to his mouth. He tuned out Boost and Sinker’s conversation, but did glance up when the General walked by, stopping to speak with them. He tried to listen, but they spoke quickly and quietly, glancing over at him. He quickly gave up and refocused on his tray.
“How are you going with the transition, sir?” Wolffe blinked back up to see Boost and Sinker looking at him again. The General had disappeared.
He cleared his throat. “We’ve received all the information on the new troopers. I’ve been going through and organising them, seeing where we’ll need to fill gaps with training.”
Sinker’s brows raised. “Sir, there’s thousands of men transferring here.”
Boost huffed. “And you were wondering why we haven’t seen the Commander in days.”
Wolffe frowned. He could have sworn he saw them just the other day. His tired mind pushed that thought away and refocused on business. “I just finished going through the last group. I’ll start planning their training and find any gaps we need to fill when I get back.”
He tuned out their talking again as he refocused on his food. He caught snippets, but they were quickly filtered back into the haze.
He blinked and lifted his head when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Sinker looking at him with a frown. When had he come around to this side of the table? When had he put his head down?
“Come on, sir. You need to rest.”
Wolffe frowned and began to protest, but even he had no idea what he was saying. He rose from the table when Sinker tugged on his arm. Black spots attacked his vision as he straightened, and he felt another set of hands steadying him on his other side as he swayed.
Time seemed to warp as his tired body was guided back through the shiny new halls of the ship. Boost and Sinker stayed close to his sides, keeping him steady as he dragged his feet along with them. His vision blurred and his eyes burned as he passed the unmarked door, the unbroken control panel, and the unstained floor.
They reached his bunk room and deposited him on his untouched bunk. He couldn’t remember if he had slept there yet, or if the thought of sleeping on the new bunk felt too strange and unreal.
Boost’s voice snapped him back into focus. He looked over to where he was standing by the desk holding up a datapad. “Are these the new troopers?”
Wolffe blinked and gave a heavy nod. The new troopers sent to replace the old troopers. To replace the dead troopers. The dead brothers. The dead brothers he had let down. That he should honour by surviving and continuing to fight, by helping his new brothers. He couldn’t let them down too. The weight of every brother lost weighed heavily on him, and with every new name he had to read and assign, the weight only grew. But he was their Commander, their ori’vod, he couldn’t let them down. Again.
He realised his body was shaking with hitched breaths when he felt himself pulled into a warm embrace. He felt the chest he was pressed against vibrate with soothing words as the wave of grief he had been tenuously holding back finally overwhelmed him, his heavy body and sluggish mind unable to stop it any longer. He felt another body press in on his other side, a comforting presence.
He finally let himself break down. All the tears he had fought back, all the feelings he had locked away, he let it all out. He may be a Commander, but he had lost 30,000 brothers. The only people who could understand that were beside him. A too small vod pile of grief and pain and exhaustion. He couldn’t say anything to express this, but he knew they felt it too. He didn’t yell or fight or talk. He just let himself be held as the tears flowed in quiet, painful grief.
They stayed there for a long time, all of them grieving together in a too small vod pile in a too new room. Eventually, the tears slowed and Wolffe felt himself slump into the arms of his brothers. The exhaustion of the past however many days washed over him in a new wave that threatened to pull him down once again. He let it, and dropped into a heavy, dreamless sleep.