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Fox knew it was going to be a bad day from the minute he opened his eyes. It was one of the rare times where he had actually gotten some sleep on the night cycle of the Marauder, although it was far from being restful. It seemed every time Fox closed his eyes now he was greeted by visions of some atrocity happening somewhere in the galaxy, courtesy of the Force, of course.
His relationship with the Force at this point was complicated. He knew he should do what any sensible remaining Jedi would and cut himself off from it, for his own safety, but he couldn’t. For Fox, the opposite was true. He had learned to immerse himself so deeply into the Force that no other Force wielder could sense him. In doing so though, he left himself vulnerable to experiencing the suffering of the galaxy.
On the other hand, if he did close himself off from the Force he would be left with just the voice in his head. It had been quite some time since the war ended, but Fox could still hear those horrible words echoing in his head. ‘Execute Order 66.’ He remembered struggling to get his body to move and it was the words that his vod’e kept repeating that truly haunted him. ‘Good soldiers follow orders.’ He could never recognize the voice, but they always felt different, and on days like this they were loud and insistent.
To add on to that last night's vision had left screams echoing in his head. He could barely have a thought of his own, his mind overrun with thoughts that weren’t his.
He knew how to silence them, most of them at least, but he knew he really shouldn’t. It was early enough still in the Marauder’s cycle that Fox was the only one awake in the ship, other than those who were in the cockpit. Tech and Echo, if his inventory of the room he was in was correct. He didn’t want to bother any of them, they needed their rest. Fox’s focus was drawn to his bag that was sitting beside his bunk; within it were his blasters. He barely registered his hand reaching out, and in a brief moment of clarity he willed the Force to push the bag away. It wasn’t really a solution, he knew he could still just as easily grab the gun, but he had promised his batch that he would try.
His force of will didn’t last long as the voices in his head had started to bring on a headache. All he wanted was a moment of quiet. He was vaguely aware of his actions as he reached out with the Force again towards the bag. He was more aware of the cold durasteel in his hand. Fox knew this would quiet the voices, it had before, but he also remembered his promise. So, with movements that felt like they took every muscle Fox had to perform, he unloaded the blaster, setting the clip and bolts on the bunk beside him. Then, he let the urge take control again.
He closed his eyes and pressed the weapon to his temple. The cool metal felt grounding against his skin. It did bring him some calm; he was doing what he should. ‘Good soldiers follow orders.’ The voice in his head was distinctly his own. This was how it should be, he had committed treason against the Republic on multiple accounts. The punishment for that was execution. Fox has been living on borrowed time for too long.
As he sat his finger drifted towards the trigger of the blaster. It felt like his finger was always meant to rest on the trigger. Then a small voice nagged at him, reminding him that the gun was empty. It shouldn’t be, it should be loaded, and set to kill at that. Instinct had him running his thumb over the setting of the blaster. It was set to stun. ‘Coward.’ He quickly swapped the weapon to the proper setting. He made no move to retrieve the ammo from the bunk however. Fox had a promise to keep, and for now, that kept him from fully giving into the voice in his head. Still, he felt a calm wash over him as he tightened his finger on the trigger of the harmless blaster.
Fox couldn’t say how long he had been sitting like that, or how long he would need to today, but he was distantly aware of the sound of the cockpit door opening. It was the voice that got more of his attention.
“Fox?” He couldn’t place the voice, all he knew was that it was outside of his own head, which was comforting in a different way than the gun pressed against his head. The voice wasn’t angry, more concerned. So many questions behind it, that Fox was glad were not spoken.
“It’s not loaded.” He didn’t open his eyes as he answered one of the questions lingering in the air. He didn’t need to look to know the clone who had entered had their gaze fixed on the bolts on the bed. Fox was suddenly very aware of their weight on the bunk as well. They both knew how quickly Fox could load and fire the blaster in his hands, although neither spoke it aloud.
Fox heard the clicking of footsteps approaching him, and when they stopped the impression of the ammo on the bunk was gone. After another quiet beat, Fox opened his eyes.
He was greeted by an expecting hand. Slowly, again exerting more energy than would normally be necessary, he placed the blaster in the palm. The voice in his head raged at him at the loss of contact with the durasteel. For a new source of grounding away from the voices Fox willed himself to look up to the vod that had taken the blaster from him; it was Echo. Fox expected him to be disappointed, however his expression was more worried than anything else as his eyes searched Fox for any answers to the endless questions he had yet to speak.
Fox continued to stare at Echo as the other clone put the blaster and bolts back into Fox’s bag, then moved the bag into a cubby, putting all of Fox’s weapons out of sight. Once he was finished with that, Echo moved to sit on the Fox’s bunk, as far away from Fox as the small mattress allowed. They just sat for what felt like a very long moment, staring at each other with two very different looks. Echo once again scouring for answers without having to ask too many questions, and Fox with a blank stare as though he still wasn’t fully with Echo. Fox was content to stay like that until the voices and remnants of visions quieted down, but Echo broke the silence.
“I thought Hunter already went over this with you?” It was not a great start to the conversation, but Fox figured it deserved a response regardless. He found that he couldn’t get his mouth to form words though, so simply gave a few slow nods. “So why did I find you with a blaster pressed to your head?”
That question was a little harder to answer without words. Echo seemed like he would wait as Fox ran his hand over the golden tassel he wore wrapped around his wrist. It helped to further ground him and he slowly found that his tongue was able to move again.
“Bad day.” Fox was a bit disappointed in himself, all that build up for two short words, Echo accepted them though and it was his turn to nod in response.
“You know you’re supposed to come to us when you have bad days.” The statement was not as accusatory as Fox had been bracing for.
“Didn’t want to bother anyone.” Fox shifted his gaze from Echo’s face with that admission and immediately regretted it as the voice in his head suddenly felt like a stabbing pain. So, he quickly returned his gaze.
“Someone is always awake in the cockpit, if you didn’t want to bother anyone sleeping. Why didn’t you come talk to me or Tech?” That one was a little more accusing.
“Had it handled.” He knew it wasn’t a good answer, but it was all he had.
“Fox, handled is not pointing a blaster to your forehead with your finger on the kriffing trigger.”
“But it wasn’t loaded.”
“That’s still not good, Fox. What if Omega had seen you doing that?” Fox couldn’t think of an answer for that, and once again withdrew his gaze from Echo. He knew deep down that it wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t control it. It had taken every bit of his effort to unload the blaster. He really doubted he could have managed to walk the, admittedly short, distance to the cockpit, let alone stay present enough to be grounded purely by Tech and Echo’s presence.
“Look,” Echo speaking again pulled Fox back to the present, he hadn’t realized he was slipping again, “I get it, sometimes just seeing officer greys is enough to send me into a panic attack.”
Fox felt terrible as he was reminded that Echo also suffered mentally, as did most of the Bad Batch. He was being selfish, forcing everyone to baby him, just because he couldn’t deal with some noise in his head. He was about to apologize, but before he could, Echo continued, “But, you know what helps me? Having brothers to reach out to. I know there are people who care about me and will do anything to make sure I’m okay.”
Fox snapped his head and locked eyes with Echo at that last statement. His mind told him that Echo had that, not Fox, he didn’t deserve it. Before the voice could spiral though, a hand was on Fox’s shoulder, grounding him in the world.
“You have that too. I know your brain probably tells you otherwise, mine does too sometimes, but it’s always true.”
Fox gave a solemn nod. Part of him still didn’t believe it, but he made an effort to commit the fact to his mind.
“But,” Echo added with a gentle, almost parental, tone, “you have to reach out first. We’re not mind readers like you, Fox.” He punctuated his playful statement by ruffling Fox’s hair.
“I can’t read minds.” Fox shot back, crossing his arms to accent his indignation. They both chuckled at the childish response. They had to return to the heavier topic of Fox’s struggles though, and Fox for once reproached the conversation, “Sometimes it’s just, too much though. I can hardly fight the instincts. It takes all of my energy just to continue to lay in bed, never mind talking or walking to find someone…”
“I know, and Hunter would be very proud of you for unloading the blaster.” Echo returned the comforting hand to his shoulder, “Maybe we can come up with a system when Hunter wakes up. He’s a bit better at this than I am.”
Fox nodded in agreement.
“In the meantime,” Echo stood from the bed as he continued, “why don’t we go sit you with Tech in the cockpit. I was gonna try and get some rest before we get to our destination.”
“That sounds nice.” Fox replied and found it took a more normal amount of effort to stand.
He and Echo walked to the front of the ship and Echo informed Tech that Fox was having a no weapons day. Tech nodded his understanding, and with a few more words exchanged Echo left back to the sleeping area of the Marauder. Fox took the co-pilot seat beside Tech and focused on the hyper speed blurring past the window. He was always entranced by it as he had never had much experience with it. Tech kept him grounded with the occasional conversation, and although better wasn’t quite the right word for it, Fox definitely couldn’t hear the voices as loudly as he had when he woke up.