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The old barrack on Kamino was empty, more so than Fox had ever seen it. Yes, it was often totally empty of cadets during the day cycle when all the training squads were out at once, but there was usually at least a monitor droid or two, and often one of the maintenance workers. Not now, though. Fox couldn’t even hear voices in the distance or the familiar pitter-patter of footsteps in the halls.
Looking down, Fox realized he was sitting on the edge of his old pod. He didn’t remember opening it, nor did he remember it being so small. He’d had plenty of nights where he was required to sleep in full armour, and now that he was looking at the narrow dimensions of the thin mattress, he wondered how he’d stood it.
“Feels strange to be back, eh?”
The voice should have startled him; somehow Fox didn’t feel even a smidge of surprise to hear it.
“It does.”
The mattress creaked as whoever had joined Fox sat down next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Fox saw a pair of black-and-blue striped greaves and a similarly patterned kama. It wasn’t a design he was familiar with.
“One of Rex’s men?” he asked.
“I was. Are you going to look at me, brother?”
Fox made to lift his head and found he couldn’t do so. His head felt terribly heavy, and now that he was paying attention, his whole body felt weighted down as if by duracrete. A tear slipped down his face as he found himself struggling with every bit of strength he possessed to keep himself upright. It wasn’t enough.
He crumpled, and for a brief moment, he wondered what it would feel like when he landed all the way down onto the distant floor. In all his years on Kamino, he’d never had the misfortune of falling out of his pod.
Nor would he do so now. As soon as he started slipping off the edge, strong arms wrapped around his waist and chest and tugged him to fall sideways instead. Fox lay helplessly in his brother’s arms as the other man scooted back a bit to make more room and pulled Fox more comfortably against him.
“I can’t move,” Fox said. His voice sounded very small to his own ears, and hot, sweetly salty tears fell into his mouth as he spoke. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Gloved hands rubbed rough circles against his backplate while Fox started to weep in earnest.
“You’re tired, vod. More than tired. What’re you trying to do, kill yourself or somethin’?”
The question triggered a memory in Fox’s mind. It was a recent one, too, one of an overflowing desk and an unanswered commlink and a blaster dangling off of a shaking hand.
“Was thinkin’ about it, actually,” he said, choking on something that was meant to be a wry laugh and turned into a sob instead. “There’s others that’d be better in my place. Others who can adapt to the Empire. Others who don’t mind calling brothers by their CT numbers and looking into faces of friends who don’t recognize you anymore. Others who - others who aren’t brother killers.”
The hand at his back paused.
“Tell me about that last one.”
Fox buried his face against the unyielding plastoid of his brother’s plackart and didn’t respond.
“Come on, vod,” the man said. He moved his hand to Fox’s hair and began carding his fingers through it. “Tell me who you killed.”
The hand in his hair felt amazing after weeks of not one single physical touch from a brother. Fox couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him, and he didn’t try to hold back the fresh tears that splashed onto his brother’s thigh plates.
“Okay,” he whispered. “He was one of Rex’s men - one of your battalion. I was told he’d gone crazy or something and made an assassination attempt on the chancellor. I took a team to hunt him down, and he got ahold of one of our blasters…I didn’t want to shoot him. But my men were right there, and he had a blaster…I didn’t want to…if I hadn’t none of this would have happened. I went through the files, ones I shouldn’t have even known existed, and he was right. We all have chips in our heads. We all have them. My brothers don’t know their own names and it’s because of me, I killed the only vod who could have stopped this, and I didn’t want to - ”
“Fox, look at me.”
Fox shook his head.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
Fox shook his head again. The other man snorted, not unkindly.
“Yeah, you do. Look at me.”
He pried Fox’s arms away from his sides and hauled him upwards, settling Fox so he could lean his head on his shoulder.
“Who am I, Fox?”
Fox finally lifted his eyes and looked at the man’s face - simple Aurebesh tattoo on his temple, frankly silly little goatee, and warm brown eyes that were filled with far, far too much sorrowful understanding. If Fox could have moved, he would have turned his face away.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, vod.”
Fives shook his head.
“It wasn’t your fault. You did the right thing in protecting your men.”
“But - “
“If you’d let me live, what would have happened?” Fives continued. “I’d have been executed, or sent back to Kamino to be killed like Tup, or shut away in the detention center. Nothing you or I could have done would have made a difference in the end.”
Deep down, Fox knew he was right. The chips, he’d learned too late, were a plan long in the making and a net woven too tightly for even the Jedi to escape. Still -
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
Fives gave him a little squeeze.
“Hey, Fox. I forgive you, ner vod.”
The crushing weight dragging at Fox was gone in an instant; his body and his heart felt lighter than it had in months, maybe years. He threw his arms around Fives’ neck and buried his face in his neck as yet another wave of tears started.
“None of that,” Fives said and pulled him away to press their foreheads together.
They stayed like that for a long moment, Fives holding Fox tightly and Fox basking in the feeling of skin against his own and another’s breath against his face. Fives felt so alive, and connected to him, Fox felt the same. It had been a long time since he’d felt anyway other than stretched out and worn out and barely a stumbling step ahead of death.
He hadn’t had nearly his fill of the sensation before the mattress tipped out from under him and the world around him went dark. At the same time, Fives vanished. Fox fell forward at the sudden loss of support and landed face first on something unforgivingly hard and gritty.
Shuddering at the loss of Fives’ warmth, Fox pushed himself up on his elbows and looked blearily around his own office. He must have fallen off of his chair in his sleep, he realized.
Fox sat up slowly and wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold in here. Cold and lonely; as of late no vod had bothered to bring him caf or stop by to chat with him. And to think he’d sent brothers away, that he’d reprimanded them for their kindness.
The thought made Fox’s heart sink and the heaviness settle around his shoulders again. Guilt was the prevailing theme in his life, it would seem.
Closing his eyes, Fox tried to picture Fives’ face in his mind and imagine his arms around him again. Fives had forgiven him. One brother, at least, had forgiven him, and that would have to be enough.