Archive of Our Own ^beta

In all fairness, it's not Fives' fault. Hardcase started it.

The worst part, Fives thinks, the part that sucks absolute bantha ass, is that this mission was supposed to be easy. Go on an easy mission, 501st, take a break, 501st, surely nothing could possibly happen to fuck everything up like every single other mission they go on.

It really had seemed simple on the datapad. Accompany General Skywalker and Commander Tano to scout out an abandoned Jedi temple, one recently discovered on a planet that lies on the outer edges of their galaxy. No expected hostiles, as preliminary scans of the temple and surrounding area showed no life signs, but they were told to be prepared for both the possibility of overlooked organisms and traps set by organisms long since passed.

Once on the surface, the group of twenty troopers was told to split up into their units and scout the surrounding area while the Jedi investigate inside, which meant Fives was left to scope with Jesse, Hardcase, Tup, and Dogma. Tup and Dogma in particular are newer additions to the unit- not so new that this is their first mission together or anything, but new enough that they're still firmly in the first impressions camp of knowing each other.

As far as Tup goes, Fives likes Tup. Despite the implications of his name and the tattoo adorning his cheek, he's a softer type of soldier. The type that likes to ask about the flora and fauna of a planet instead of the hostiles. Still fresh, still a bit stiff, but he's easing into place. He's not so shiny that his armor is unadorned- it's not a lot, but he's got a nice little pattern going there- but he's new enough to look up to the rest of the group with a certain gravity. Plus, he laughs at Fives' jokes, so. Can't say that doesn't help some.

And then there's Dogma.

Dogma is…difficult. If Tup is stiff, Dogma might as well be immovable durasteel. Fives is half convinced the only reason Tup hasn't let his hair down yet is because he sticks so close to Dogma's side. Why they stick so close, Fives couldn't say- best guess is semi-shiny solidarity. They aren't batchmates, and he remembers the two of them meeting for the first time, remembers their awkward handshake and Tup's tentative grin, so they hadn't met on Kamino either. Joining the 501st at the same time must be the glue that keeps them together.

Not that he wants them to stop being close- Force knows how important it is to have brothers by your side, and he knows personally how it feels to have that one brother that you're a little closer to than the rest- he'd be a hypocrite if he tried to chastise them over something like that. It's just that he'd maybe advise them both to reach out to other people too, to try and connect with more brothers than each other; if he's being honest, though, it's really just the way that Dogma seems to have a stick so far up his ass that it's gone straight through him and up Tup's too.

Thing is, it's not even regulations that the guy's such a stickler about- well, yes, he is actually, but that's not all there is to it. If it was just the regulations, Fives could deal. Been through it once, not so hard the second time. Yet he knows that's not it because as soon as the General opens his mouth and orders some crazy, seemingly hare-brained, definitely rule-breaking plan, Dogma's the first one to salute and shout yes sir. From what Fives can tell, it's not so much the rules that he cares about as who it is that's making them. A man whose greatest passion is following orders- he must be one of Kamino's darlings.

So maybe Fives doesn't like Dogma, exactly, or at least, hasn't gotten to know him well enough beyond the annoying parts. Fine by him- interpersonal relationships mean nothing in the field. Brawl in the barracks one day, shoot droids back-to-back the next. Fives could think Dogma was the shit scraped off the Chancellor's shoe, for all that matters, but once they're on a mission, it means zilch. They're soldiers, brothers in arms. Nothing more to it than that.

He's telling himself this, over and over again, constantly flipping between, well, at least it was Dogma, and, oh hell, what in the flaming Force's balls happened to Dogma?

Like he'd said. Hardcase started it.

They had just rounded the edge of the temple and made it to the back end, and what they discovered was a grand but decrepit garden. He could imagine it having been beautiful once, stone pillars, sloping rocks, and fountain structures with intricately patterned carvings, but age had done a marvelous job of leaving her mark. The only plants left were overgrown, gnarling weeds, tiny sprigs of grass, and the spindly skeletons of bushes that were formerly of an epic scale.

Hardcase had whistled. "Freaky," he'd said, swiveling his head around and around to get better looks at the stone spires.

"You scared of ghosts, Hardcase?" Jesse had teased with a sharp elbow to Hardcase's ribs. Hardcase, of course, had returned it in stride.

"As if. Just think a bunch of dead plants are a lot less pretty than the living ones."

Before Hardcase or Jesse could say anything else, Dogma had coughed, a single, extremely deliberate hack into his fist. "We need to report our findings to the General," he'd said shortly. Completely unrelated to anything said before, of course- no-nonsense, by-the-books Dogma.

Hardcase had squinted, looking around at the dead plants and broken statues. "What do we gotta report? It's neat an' all, but so far, it's a fat load of nothing."

"It is not a 'fat load of nothing', it's a garden," Dogma had insisted. "We're supposed to report any and all findings to our General and Commander, no matter how seemingly insignificant."

"Sir, yes sir," Hardcase had said with a mock salute. Dogma had glared at him something fierce.

He'd then taken it upon himself to comm the General, who agreed that yep, it sure was a garden. Lots of temples have them, apparently, both new ones and ones like this that are ancient as the Force's ass. They were ordered to carry on as usual, which Dogma had relayed.

"See?" Hardcase had said. "Fat. Load. Of nothing."

"Better than finding out that we missed something vitally important far too late," Dogma had scowled. His temper had clearly been on the rise, and Fives had let out a deep, bone-weary sigh.

If he knows anything about Hardcase, he knows that sometimes, the man can get caught up in whatever he's doing, only realizing 3 steps past a line that it's one he shouldn't have crossed. And if he knows anything about Dogma, he knows that while he's generally placid, the man can get a bit… touchy over things concerning the General's orders. Without intervention, Fives had known immediately that this had the potential to get ugly.

Luckily, Tup had been keeping an eye on Dogma just as much as Fives had on Hardcase. "Easy, Dogma," Tup had said, resting a mollifying hand on Dogma's shoulder. "He's just joking around. You told the General anyways, so everything's fine."

Dogma's scowl had twisted a bit deeper, eyes hot with anger, before he'd blinked, face falling back into place of regular resting disdain. That had definitely been odd, now that he's thinking back on it- Dogma gets annoyed, self-righteous, and stiff, but he doesn't usually get genuinely pissed off.

File that one away for later.

"He shouldn't be 'joking around'," Dogma had muttered, but relented to Tup and promptly dropped it. Fives had let out another sigh- this time, being one of relief. Thank force for Tup; maybe it's not so bad that he'd picked Dogma to latch onto, or that Dogma picked him. The man might make him uptight, but Tup is the only one who can calm down a riled Dogma. Other than Rex, maybe, but that's only because he's the Captain, so if he orders Dogma to calm down, he calms down.

This relief had been destined to be short lived, as it tends to be with the 501st. They should start giving out condensed relief as part of their rations. Maybe then, they wouldn't be under constant barrage of Murphy's law.

And barrage it is- in the center of the garden is a statue, one with a seemingly indecipherable meaning to its twisted, writhing shape. More importantly than the shape is the fact that it sits centerpiece to a large fountain.

A large, perfectly clear, perfectly clean fountain.

"Now someone else tell me that that's not right," Jesse had said. His eyebrows were set deep and low on his face, nearly shadowing his eyes- as intimidating of a picture that it might paint, Fives had known that the man was simply puzzled beyond reason. His scary face of thought, as Hardcase had so aptly nicknamed it.

Fives had nodded grimly. "Notify the General and the Commander," he'd said, taking a few cautious steps forward to peer down into the water. "No indication of threat as of now, but it should be made note of. The men need to keep an eye out- either someone is here cleaning it, or it's something to do with the Force."

"Right away, sir," Tup had said quickly. From behind him, he'd heard Tup's efficient summary of the area and the fountain.

Another nice thing about Tup- kid's smart. He's good with his words and even better with his strategy. A clever head sits on that shiny's shoulders. If Fives could just get him to loosen up a little, he'd probably find himself slotting right in to the group's established dynamic past their working one. He'll have to wait on that, though- as of now, when there's a Tup, there's a Dogma close behind.

Case in point- Fives hadn't heard him come up behind him, but suddenly Dogma had just been there, scrutinizing the water right alongside him. His unanticipated reflection in the water had nearly made Fives jump out of his skin.

"Shit- Dogma!" he'd very nearly shrieked, watching as Dogma hadn't so much as lifted his head from the water. "Warn a guy if you're gonna go stealth!"

"Stealth, sir?"

"Just- make some noise when you walk. Force."

"Sorry," Dogma had replied, and this time, he'd actually looked up, and even had the decency to look guilty. He hadn't seemed to know what he was guilty for, but that was enough for Fives. He'd then asked, "Do you think the General will be able to translate the text on that plaque?"

"Plaque?" Fives had craned his neck closer to Dogma's viewpoint. Sure enough, on one of the sides, there was a small, heavily rusted plaque, with what certainly appeared to be writing on it. No kind of writing Fives could identify, though- the lettering is completely alien.

Before Fives could reply, Hardcase had sat down heavily next to Dogma, who had immediately frowned at the proximity. "Isn't this a new one to us?" he had asked, wearing a far less intimidating expression of puzzlement himself- fascinating, how the same face can look so different. "Like, we haven't gone here much really, have we? The Republic, I mean? If we haven't been to this place in forever, why would any Jedi nowadays know the language?" He then gestured in the air, up and towards the thin spires of the temple. "Or know anything about this place, for that matter?"

"Where there is a temple, there is history," Dogma had said, carefully shifting himself away from Hardcase's widespread knees. He was clearly parroting some random Jedi quote he'd overheard from a General at some point. "And the Jedi have always been known to keep extensive records. Chances are, there's information somewhere about this place. And, hopefully," he'd squinted at the plaque again, "the language."

"Huh," Hardcase had said. "Weird."

This is probably where Fives should have realized something was about to go wrong, but in his defense, well- he can't keep track of all of Hardcase's fidgeting.

And fidget he had. Slowly at first, then nearly full-body rocking on the ledge of the fountain.

"Hardcase, careful," Dogma had scolded, slapping a hand down on one of Hardcase's thighs. "You'll fall in. We don't know if this water is safe or not yet."

"Looks safe to me, but aye-aye," he'd said. The rocking had slowed, but not by much.

Tup and Jesses had approached behind them- mercifully, these two had remembered to make sound to alert their presence.

"Mm…" Jesse had hummed, leaning over Fives' shoulder. "Uh, yeah. It's real clean, but it does just look like water." His bafflement was palpable, and Fives couldn't even see his face. "I'll never get the hang of Jedi shit."

"I think it's rather fascinating," Tup had said amicably. "Maybe they just somehow used the force to make a…self-cleaning fountain?"

Jesse had frowned. "Can it do that?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm not a Jedi. Just think that would be neat, s'all."

"Now how is a self-cleaning fountain neat," Hardcase had sighed, leaning back so that his head was dangerously near touching the water. "If I were a Jedi, I'd be making things like- like- I dunno, my lightsaber or something!"

"Those are two entirely separate areas of study," Dogma had muttered. "And what did I say about being careful-"

"Aw, I'm fine, Dog, I'm fine, I do this stuff all the time! I've got great balance-"

Let it be known that should Hardcase ever win an award for anything, it should be in irony.

Because just as he'd been tipping back, extending his legs into the dirt and grass beneath them, his foot had caught on a gnarled root. Surprised by the sudden obstruction, he had yanked it on instinct, causing him to, 1) uproot the rather large dead plant that had caught him, kicking it right into Jesse's face, and 2) careen straight backward into the fountain.

Except he hadn't, because in the split second before his head touches the water, Dogma had cried, "Hardcase!" and had launched himself between his brother and the fountain. This, of course, meant that it was Dogma who careened straight into the fountain, and not Hardcase.

There'd been a loud splash, Hardcase's grunt of pain, and a gurgling cry, then there's a sort of- well, force. It had sent Fives tumbling back off of the fountain and into the ground, knocking off his helmet and gifting him with a mouthful of dry dirt for his troubles. Whatever it had been had blinded him for a few moments as well- he'd blinked rapidly, trying to clear the white from his eyes, and vision slowly came into view.

Hardcase- safely shoved away face-down on the ground. Bucket, on. Ass, skywards. Jesse- knocked a little further back than Fives. On hands and knees, conscious. Tup- strewn out next to Hardcase, helmet rolled a ways away. Eyes open, but dazed. Dogma-

Fuck. Dogma.

Here is where Fives finds himself now, gut churning with unease and anticipation, because seriously, what happened to Dogma. His- his armor is there, everything's there, but it looks- deflated. Not entirely filled out right. It's so limp, yet it's clearly not empty, because something is wearing it, but it's not- it's not-

The thing in Dogma's armor groans.

It is pitiful, high, and unnervingly familiar.

"Men," Fives calls, voice coming out about as gracefully as thick sludge. "On your feet."

"Fives?" Jesse asks. "Fives, did- did something happen-?"

"I don't know," he says. The thing in Dogma's armor groans again. It still hasn't pushed itself out of the fountain.

Tup's gaze finally refocuses, and he stands on shaky legs, with Hardcase following suit. "What…did that thing just…" he whispers. His hair has fallen from its normally pristine bun, and he rakes a hand through it haphazardly. "S- sir?"

"I don't know," he says again. "Hardcase-"

"Fff-" Hardcase lets out a puff of air, pulling off his helmet and shaking his head roughly. "Fuck. What the hell was that? Where's-" His eyes light up with alarm, and Tup's blow wide in sync. "Where's Dogma?"

The group all turn to face the fountain. To face the thing in Dogma's armor.

"What…" Tup repeats, then again, "what is…what…?" He may have a slight concussion.

Jesse eyes Fives warily, cocking his head towards the thing. Fives nods in response- he and Jesse will approach, Tup and Hardcase will stay back. Fives will be the first to make contact, if it comes to that.

Up closer, there is definitely a humanoid body occupying the armor and the blacks beneath it. The body is- it's very small. The blacks between the plating seem to almost drip off of it, they're so ill-fitting.

Fives inhales deeply, then sets his jaw. "Hey," he says, not loudly, as he doesn't want to agitate it, but firmly, bordering on aggressive. "You. Are you awake?"

The thing in Dogma's armor flinches, staying still for a moment more before finally leveraging itself out of the fountain. It pushes up on two small arms, then, when it sits back on the very ledge Dogma once sat, it takes its hands to the helmet. The hands- five-fingered, but they don't fill out the gloves, flopping around at the tips. They're so small. Why is something so small wearing Dogma's armor? It pats almost…curiously, then a bit faster, then it comes at it from the sides and tugs up. The attempt does nothing- the helmet stays stubbornly in place.

"I can't get it off," the thing in Dogma's armor says, almost petulant in tone, and a chill runs down Fives' spine. It sounds like- but there's no way-

"There's a mechanism," he says hurriedly. "Here, let me-" and he pops the helmet off of the thing in Dogma's armor. And he stares.

A clone cadet stares back.

"What the fuck?" Hardcase whisper-shouts. "What the fuck, what the fuck?"

Tup's just shaking his head, jaw dropped. Jesse blinks his eyes a few times, clears them, then blinks them again.

Fives…Fives is stuck.

There's no way. There's no way, it can't be, and yet- he's wearing Dogma's armor, he's in Dogma's spot, and they don't know what this stupid fountain even is, so-

"Dogma?"

The cadet screws up his nose. "What's a 'Dogma'?"

"You, maybe," Hardcase blurts out. Tup elbows him harshly in the chest.

"Me?"

"Uh," Fives says, beautiful, Fives, very eloquent, "Um- trooper, state your designation and rank."

At this, the cadet pulls himself up a little straighter, puffing out his chest under the armor that swamps him. "CT-6922, sir," he says. "Rank- cadet?"

Ah, right. Cadets don't have ranks.

"That's Dogma's number," Tup says, and he sounds about two words away from a breakdown. "That- that's Dogma's number, how is this-"

The cadet suddenly bursts. "What is a 'Dogma'?" he cries, throwing out his arms exasperatedly. "I'm not a 'Dogma'!"

Fives sits back on his heels, stunned. Dogma never- he never interrupted. He never talked back.

"Dogma isn't a what, he's a who," Jesse says gently, kneeling down next to Fives in front of the cadet. "Cadet, do you know where you are?"

The boy huffs tiredly, as if to say, what kind of question is that? when his eyes suddenly grow wide as saucers. "I-" he starts, gaze flickering from side to side, trooper to trooper. "I- I don't. Sorry. Is this a test?"

"No," Jesse confirms with a shake of his head. He lays a hand on the cadet's- on Dogma's- shoulder, and asks, "Do you recognize us?"

"No, sir," Dogma responds. Tup lets out a strangled sound at that. "Are…are you new trainers? We don't usually get so many at once…" Dogma's eyes continue to bounce between the four of them, and the longer he stares, the more nervous he seems to get. "Why do you look the same? Are you brothers?"

Hardcase lets out a snort. Tup elbows him again.

"Yes," Fives says, finally finding his voice. "More than that, though- we're your brothers."

Dogma's jaw drops. "You're clones?" he sputters, reeling back, and Jesse's hand hardens on his shoulder to keep him from getting another dip in the fountain. "But- but you-" His hands ball into fists (tiny fists, how is he this small, Dogma?), before exploding outwards again. "You're so old!" he cries.

All four of them wince. 

"Rude," Hardcase mutters.

"No, cadet," Jesse says, pulling Dogma forward and off the fountain's ledge. "We aren't old- you're just young. A bit, well, too young."

"That sounds like something an old person would say," Dogma replies with a roll of his eyes.

Interruptions, outbursts, loose-lips- he's not even sitting up straight, and he thought they were trainers only a second ago. What seems to have happened already feels impossible, Dogma somehow reverting back to a cadet, but Fives finds himself thinking something even more impossible than that.

This can't be Dogma.

"I'm- going to comm the General," Fives says. His voice comes out way too stilted, and the boy who is supposedly Dogma but is decidedly not lifts an eyebrow at him quizzically.

"What's wrong with him?" the boy asks, and this time, both Hardcase and Jesse choke on a laugh. The boy, predictably, doesn't get it. He looks between them, saying, "What?" and Fives just- he needs to step back.

"General," he says into his comm. "We, uh- we have a situation."

"A situation?" The General replies. "What kind of situation?"

"Sir, I can safely say that it is par for the course," he says, then sighs. "For the 501st."

Silence, a muttered of course, then, "Alright, what're we looking at?"

"It- it's Dogma, sir," he says, "or, I- I think so. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Fives suppresses a groan of frustration, choosing instead to exhale harshly through his nose. "It's- complicated, sir. He's, well- he's been turned into a cadet."

There's a long pause.

"Sorry," the General says slowly. "He what?"

"He's been turned into a cadet, sir."

An amused snort from over the line. "So it is working fine," the General murmurs, most likely to himself. "I…okay. Okay. I'm choosing to believe that you're telling the truth, and not pranking me."

"I can only wish it were a prank, sir."

"Right. So…" There's an inhale from the General's side. "Walk me through it. How'd this happen?"

Fives relays the events- the garden, the fountain, the strange plaque, the falling in. He kindly does not include the information that the only reason it's Dogma like this is because he was trying to stop Hardcase from braining himself in the stupid magic water. Hardcase is definitely going to owe him a drink after this is all over.

"You're right," the General says, sounding far too relaxed considering the situation. "Sounds just like our kinda luck. I probably won't be any help with the translation, but I'll get a holo to command once we get over there. Obi wan is better with this sorta thing than me." There's a small pause before he continues- spacing himself from the others, maybe? "So, what did you mean then, that you 'don't know'?"

Funny. He's just said one of the most ridiculous sentences he's ever had to say, and yet, it's this one that makes him feel like a crazy conspiracy theorist. "He's…General, I don't know how to put it, he's just- he's not himself. He acts like a completely different person."

"He's a kid, Fives. Kids don't stay the same."

"I know that, but this is- different. I can't explain it."

"Alright," the General says, doubt coloring his voice. "Well, I'll keep it in mind. For now, though, operate as you would if you had no doubt that it is him. Keep him safe- there's still no hostiles, but this is a big space, and if you guys found something that can do that…" He sighs softly. "I'd hate to see what else is just lying around. Nothing good for a kid, that's for sure. You copy?"

"Yes, sir. Over and out."

Well. He's got his orders. Now to try and act like this isn't the strangest thing that's ever happened to him.

Making his way back to the men, he finds a very animated Hardcase and a very scowly possibly-not-Dogma.

"I don't get it," Dogma says, and though he's doing an admirable job of hiding it, there's distress under his anger. "You're- you're pranking me, or something, you're-"

"No pranks, Dog! Welcome to the future." Hardcase waves a hand in a slow arch through the air, which only seems to piss off the kid more.

"Stop calling me that," he sneers, "I am not a dog, or a Dogma! What kind of test is this? Is this supposed to be for- simulations? Fake reality?" The boy's eyes narrow, and for a moment, he really does look like Dogma, sans tattoo and strange haircut. It's a dead-on replica of one of Dogma's favorite expressions- though, where Dogma wears this expression with disdain, this boy wears it with distrust. It's…jarring, to see an untrusting Dogma. He hadn't realized just how trusting Dogma is until now.

"Who, not a what," Jesse says again, leaning tiredly against a stone wall. "And no, it's not a test. I cannot stress enough that this is not a test."

"Maybe it's a test on you, Jesse," Tup ponders, earning himself a whack upside the head.

As soon as Fives is back within range, Dogma's eyes snap to him. There's an intensity there, one very much like the real Dogma, though it's still filled with all the wrong emotions. It's downright strange, but he can't show how jarred he is to his men, especially when there's a scared cadet here. Even if said cadet is supposedly also one of his men.

"Dogma- er, cadet," he corrects, seeing the way Dogma's scowl deepens further at his name. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The kid's eyes track him as he kneels down in front of him- Force above, the boots are way too big on him. Everything's too big on him. He looks like a nat-born playing dress-up as a soldier. "...I was in the cafeteria," he says slowly, searching Fives' face as he speaks. He's not sure what Dogma's looking for- something to catch him in a lie? "Forty-three, Tiptoe, and Eighty-nine were already at the table with me, and Mash was still in line."

Behind Dogma, Tup's brows furrow in confusion, and he looks to Hardcase, who shrugs. Fives doesn't recognize the names either. "Those your batchmates?" he asks.

Dogma nods. "Eighty-nine wanted to throw a ration bar at me, but Tiptoe put him in a headlock." He squints at the sky for a moment before grinning. "Then I threw one at him instead. I think Forty-three punched me for it."

From the way Tup's eyes widen, Fives can tell that he's not the only one who sees the disconnect between this kid and Dogma. It just doesn't make sense. Dogma never dicked around during meals, he never goaded someone into a fight, and he never, ever would have told anyone, authority or otherwise, if he had.

"Can anyone confirm that those were Dogma's batchmates?" Fives asks, only to be met with shaking heads.

"Never told me anything," Jesse says. "Hardcase? Tup? You're closer with him, he ever talk with you about them?"

Hardcase cracks a guilty grin. "Most of our talks go more like, Hardcase, stop talking during the briefing, or, Hardcase, don't touch that!" His gaze turns sharply downcast- of course Hardcase, who, for all his eccentricities, is a genuinely friendly person, would feel bad about not getting to know someone who constantly lectures him. "I probably shouldn't bug him so much."

"It's alright, Hardcase," Tup says softly. "He does like you, y'know. He's just- well." He clears his throat. "He never talked about them with me either, sir. I asked once, but he told me it was 'complicated'."

Great. Nobody can corroborate, and more than that, the dawning feeling of something is wrong is increasing tenfold. Most troopers, even ones who get completely split up, think fondly of their batchmates. A well-known topic of conversation is reminiscing on mischief made back on Kamino with your first brothers. For Dogma to never talk about them at all…

It looks as if Fives isn't the only one who finds that worrying. Dogma's arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and his forehead is beaded with sweat. "This is a dream," he says, "or- or a test. What's the point of a test like this?" His voice turns into a mumble at the end, and he closes his eyes and starts talking to himself. "I figured out that it's fake, but it's not over, so that's not the point. Is it that I need to get out? How do you get out of a simulation?" With his eyes closed, he can't see the increasingly worried glances thrown between Fives and the rest of the unit, but his nerves raise nonetheless. "I'm not good with computers! Why couldn't we be in pairs, Mash is so much better at this stuff!"

"Kid." It's Tup this time, placing a gentle hand on Dogma's shoulder, only flinching a little when Dogma wrenches it away. "This isn't a dream, and it isn't a test. I'm sorry. I know you're scared-"

"I'm not scared," Dogma snarls. His eyes snap open, and he glares at Tup with malice and poorly disguised fear. "This isn't real. Shut up."

Tup, to his credit, doesn't look offended. He barely even seems sad- probably too shocked by Dogma telling someone older than him to shut up to feel much else.

"It's not real, it can't be," Dogma continues in a whisper, once again more to himself than any of the men. "If it were real, then they'd be here, and I'd have a way cooler name, and…and…"

Something clicks in Fives' head.

Oh, no, he thinks, watching the twitchy, muttering child in front of him. Oh, please no. His stomach bottoms down to his feet.

"You're close with your batch?" Fives asks. His voice sounds far away.

Dogma nods distractedly, still caught up in his muttering. "Even Forty-three," he says, as if that's enough of an explanation.

His stomach sinks further. Troopers who don't talk about a batch they were close to…there's only a few reasons as to why. Falling out, dead, or…

Fives has never wanted to be wrong about something more in his life.

"You mentioned your name," Jesse says in lieu of Fives, who can't seem to open his mouth anymore. "You don't have one yet, you said? What kind of name were you thinking?"

Jesse's distraction is working to calm the boy down. His arms begin to loosen, and his face, while still pale, relaxes somewhat. "I dunno," he says, picking at the armor on his forearm. "Something cool. I wanna name myself." His nose wrinkles in distaste. "I really don't want a nickname name."

The men avoid each other's eyes, guilt settling in further. A nickname name is exactly what Dogma has, and it certainly wasn't given out of admiration for his values. Fives hears the echo of his own voice in his ears, sneering Dogma's name after a particularly frustrating mission in which the man's staunch loyalty to the given orders made everything more difficult.

Maybe, once Dogma is back to normal, he'll ask the guy if he wants a name change.

"Got anything in mind?" Jesse asks kindly. Fives couldn't be more grateful to him in this moment- Hardcase owes Fives a drink, and Fives owes one to Jesse.

Dogma shakes his head, but in doing so, he finally turns to face him. His eyes catch on Jesse's tattoo- it seems to stop him in his tracks, gaze trailing it all along his face, and the frown melts away into a small o- shape. "You've got a face tattoo," he says, forgoing the previous topic completely. Any suspicion he had is dashed in favor of complete awe. "I really want one. Did it hurt? Where'd you get it?"

Jesse waves a flippant hand. "It was nothing," he lies- Fives knows it's a lie, because he remembers the video one of Jesse's batchmates had taken of him getting it. If he wants to look cool in front of a child though, Fives won't call him out on it. Oh, he's absolutely going to make fun of him later, but for now, he'll leave him be. He'll chalk the mercy up to what he owes him for dealing with this so well. "Hey, wanna know a secret, kid?" Jesse grins, leaning in conspiratorially. "In the future, you've got one too."

"Really?" Dogma gasps, pushing himself up on his knees to face Jesse completely. "Do you have a holo? Can I see? I wanna see!"

"I do," Tup says. He's doing a good job of smiling, but Fives can tell- he's scared shitless. Not because of what's happening right now, though that certainly can't be helping. No, Fives is sure that it's more because of what they're all guessing happened to Dogma before the 501st.

Dogma shuffles closer to Tup, who sits down next to him in the grass. "You've got one too," he says, sticking his face in front of him and scrutinizing the teardrop under his eye. "A little one. Did that hurt?"

"Not really," Tup replies- definitely also a lie- as he shuffles around his pack. "You were there, actually. I asked you to come with me since you'd already gotten yours."

"And mine is big?"

"Very big," Tup promises solemnly.

Apparently having forgotten that this is a simulation or a dream or whatever he'd convinced himself it was, as soon as Tup pulls up the holo, Dogma's nose is practically touching the screen to get a closer look. "It's huge!" he cries, utterly delighted. Fives feels something in his chest crack- the first time he'd met Dogma, he'd complimented his tattoo, called it wicked, only to be met with a grimace. Fives just always figured that he'd ended up regretting it, or that something about it hadn't come out right. He never thought…he hadn't even considered any other possibility.

Tup laughs, patting Dogma's back. "It sure is. All the shinies think it's very cool."

"I think it's very cool," he says smugly, but after a few more moments of admiring it, he frowns. "Why do I look so annoyed?"

Fives leans over to get a look at the holo himself. It's true- in the picture, Tup has one arm around Dogma and the other in the air giving a thumbs-up. He's smiling wide, clearly excited, though his eyes are somewhat red. Especially the right one- there's a patch right under it where his tattoo is. At his side, Dogma looks pointedly away, face twisted into a frown. Fives knows him enough by now to see the tinge of blush on his ears that gives away the fact that he's not nearly as annoyed as he's trying to look in the moment, but it certainly doesn't make for a very flattering photo.

"Oh, that's cause it was when Tup got his tattoo," Hardcase explains. His face lights up at the memory. "I'm the one who took the holo- I got to go too! Remember, Tup? I kept making fun of how the tear worked so well 'cause you were crying?"

"Yes," Tup sighs, rolling his eyes. "I remember."

Dogma grins- he's fond of that sort of teasing, apparently- but his brow is still knitted together in confusion. "Why would I be annoyed about that?"

"'Cause you kept begging him not to do it! You were all, no, Tup, think about the Generals, Tup, what about regulations, Tup-" Hardcase crows, then squawks in pain when Jesse shoves his shoulder. Hardcase had not gotten the memo of the topic they were all very carefully avoiding. Or maybe he'd just gotten ahead of himself- as soon as he recovers, his eyes fly wide with guilt. Fives isn't naive enough to hope that Dogma doesn't catch it.

"...What?" Dogma says. His little hands tense on the datapad. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh," Hardcase flounders. None of them are good at lying, but Hardcase especially seems to have some kind of deception deficiency. Jesse drags a hand over his face in resignation. "Nothing?"

"Why would I care about the stupid regulations?" Dogma demands, and there it is again, that distrust that only cadet Dogma seems to have. It hurts. Fives never thought anything involving Dogma would hurt. "Future-me has one. You have one. He has one. All of you have one! Seems like a pretty stupid regulation!"

"I mean- yeah?"

"I don't care about stupid regulations." Under the too-big armor, Fives can see Dogma's chest rising and falling rapidly. Fuck, he's starting to panic. Shit. Shit. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me? Why- why are you lying?"

"Dogma-" Tup says gently, but Dogma shoots to his feet.

"I'm not a Dogma!"

With that, he tears off, somehow not tripping over the boots that assuredly don't fit him anymore, and in the troopers' shock, manages to get out of sight before any of them think to move.

"Shit," Fives swears emphatically.

Jesse groans, heaving himself to his feet. "How did none of us fucking grab him?" he asks, though nobody can give a response that isn't just oops.

"Fan out- he can't get too far in that armor," Fives orders, sweeping a hand over the various paths leading out to the rest of the garden. "Make sure he doesn't find any other weird Jedi shit in here. I'll let the General know what's going on."

"Should we call for aid?" Tup asks. He'd be nervous if it were any of them, but put Dogma, new place, and scared kid together, and he's pretty sure it's a recipe to make Tup freak out.

Fives shakes his head. "Garden's big, but not that big," he says. "Like I said- shouldn't be able to get too far in all that, and he's probably trying to hide, not get out. One of you might find him tripped over his own feet. Us four should be enough to track him down."

The men nod, then take off in opposite directions, leaving Fives to be the one taking the route Dogma had fled directly. "General," he pants, turning on communications, "Dogma's fled. Currently in pursuit."

"He ran away?"

"Affirmative."

"How the hell did that happen?"

Fives sighs, really not wanting to explain to the General every damn mistake while also trying to keep his eyes peeled for a kid stumbling around in armor. "Apologies, sir, but I'll explain once we've got him back. We're a bit caught up at the moment."

"Right. Call other troopers if you need to. I'd go myself, but, uh-" There's a strange banging from the other side of the line, and he thinks he hears Commander Tano's voice, shouting something along the lines of, stupid fucking wall, and, show you a puzzle.

"501st problem?"

"501st problem."

"Understood. Over and out, General."

Without the conversation, Fives can observe the surroundings better. Luckily, with how dead all the plants are, there isn't much in the way of foliage for a little kid to hide himself in. Un luckily, there are a ton of stone walls, spires, and statues that could. They wouldn't be perfect hiding places, but they'd be enough to disguise a kid-shaped blur from the eyes of a running trooper.

This was not how today was supposed to go. He can deal with Jedi bullshit. He can deal with ancient temples, far-off planets, and less than half a page of preparation information. He can even deal with an arguing, discordant unit. What he can't deal with is this. This exact situation, right here, seems to be just perfectly designed to be the one that makes Fives wish he were part of the Guard instead.

He nearly passes the small alcove, but once it registers that he'd seen it, he stumbles back a few steps to get a closer look. Sure enough, there's a cut in the wall here, a cracked entrance that probably shouldn't exist. Perfectly sized for a kid to slip in with ease. Fives weighs the gamble, the pros and cons of checking the hidey-hole versus continuing pursuit and not losing distance, and lands firmly in the category of being thorough over being quick.

And when he sticks his head through, he sees Dogma.

Oh, Force, he thinks. It's…not good. The kid's curled up on himself, jerking with aborted, hiccupy sobs, and he's half-hidden by some shitty, prickly plants. They scrape at his hair and what little of his face they can get to- the skin is red and raised where it scratches him. His face is mostly pressed into his arms and knees, meaning he hasn't seen Fives yet, but from the way his shoulders suddenly hike up, he thinks that he heard him.

"Kid," he calls softly, not risking his name this time. "I'm coming in, okay?"

When he gets no reply, he goes forward, choosing deliberately to consider no response better than an outright rejection. It's harder than he wants to admit to squeeze himself through the cracked entrance, but considering the fact that he's both not a child and clad in bulky armor, he figures he can cut himself some slack. The alcove's tiny- barely a few feet wide, probably was supposed to hold something in it that's been lost to time. Now it just holds two troopers, both having a very bad day. One of them most likely having a much worse day than the other.

Fives debates on whether or not to sit next to him, but decides to sit across instead. It probably wouldn't be good to crowd him right now. He's scared enough as it is, and like this, small and functionally amnesiac, Dogma doesn't even know Fives. If only one of Dogma's former batchmates were here- they'd be older, but at least he'd know them. Would any of them even be alive?

Dogma still doesn't look at him. He doesn't even move.

"Come on kid, talk to-"

"Please don't recondition me," Dogma sobs.

Fuck.

"No, kid, that's not- we aren't doing that," Fives says. He tries to make himself smaller, takes off his helmet, tries everything he can to make himself look less like a soldier apprehending a prisoner and more like a brother trying to help. "That's not why we went after you. That's not why you're here."

"Why am I here?" he cries, pushing his head further into his arms. "I- I didn't do anything, I promise. I didn't do anything. I won't throw food anymore, I won't-"

"Throw food?" Fives echoes. Why would he- oh, right. The last thing he remembers before being here. "No. No, this isn't- you aren't being punished."

Dogma looks at him then, a single reddened eye peering over his arms, and it strikes him that Dogma doesn't recognize him. Not just that he doesn't know Fives- that he doesn't know his face. Every clone, no matter how disparate, separated, or angry, knows that when they look in the eyes of another trooper, there is solidarity. Even the brother you hate the most will keep a secret for you, if it means sparing you from reconditioning or decommissioning. That's part of what it means to be vode. But Dogma- at the point in time he's at right now, there wouldn't be any clones Fives' age yet. He's what, five cycles? Four? He's so young. The oldest clone he would've seen would be maybe six or seven. No active soldiers existed when he was this young.

To Dogma, he's looking in the eyes of a stranger. And strangers on Kamino are dangerous.

"You aren't being punished," he says again, sterner. "I promise. We aren't going to hurt you. You're our brother."

"I don't-" Dogma starts, voice cracking with another hitch of breath. "I don't want this to be real."

"I know, kid, I-"

"If this is real," Dogma continues, "if- if you're not lying, then I- what's a 'Dogma'?"

The question feels as if it comes out of nowhere. "It, um," Fives says, trying his best to think of a way to phrase it without coming off as callous. "It's sort of like- a ruleset. Rules that are given to you by a powerful person, and you follow them no matter what."

Yeah, there's probably no way to spin that one as a good thing.

Dogma sees it too, Fives knows he does. The kid cries harder, visibly shaking now, and the armor he's stuck in clatters with the tremors. "They're gonna recondition me," he sobs, "I'm gonna- I'm gonna die-"

"You're not going to die," Fives stresses. Against his better judgment, he surges forward, taking Dogma's shaking shoulders in his hands, and is surprised when he's met with no resistance. When he tips forward into his chest, he lets him.

"I am," he whispers, fingers clutching for purchase against Fives' slipper plastoid armor. "They're gonna rip out my- my brain, and put in a new one, they're gonna-" He cuts himself off with a choking cry. "Please don't let them take me, please, please!"

It's not like Fives hasn't seen a brother off before reconditioning. He's seen the pleas, the mourning, the hollowness. He's seen the goodbyes given between brothers who don't know what's going to come out the other side. Reconditioning is unpredictable- some brothers, you'd never guess. Others, you'd be hard pressed to recognize the man that they'd been. His chest splinters, thinking of how Dogma skews towards the latter.

Yes, Fives has seen brothers before reconditioning. What he's never had to do is tell one that it's too late. That it's already happened. That there's nothing he can do.

He can't bring himself to respond, so instead, he tucks Dogma further into his chest and lets him cry. Maybe he can't bring himself to tell him the truth, not right now, but he can hold him. He can do that much. One hand strokes his back, careful and slow, while the other raises his vambrace to his mouth. "Boys," he says into his comm. "Stop the search. I found him."

Tup's the first to respond. "You found him?" he says, relief coloring his voice. "Oh, thank the Force. Where are you? Is he okay?"

"He's…" Fives winces. For some reason, it feels like an invasion of privacy to explain. "He's alright. Shaken, but uninjured."

"Can you send us your coordinates?" Jesse asks.

"Yeah. Better that you all come to me, I- I don't wanna move him."

"That doesn't sound good," Hardcase says. "You sure he's alright?"

Fives chews on his words. "...It's complicated," he settles on. "Just- be careful when you guys come up."

"Copy that."

Fives sends the coordinates, then returns his focus to the boy in his arms, who appears to be trying to break the record for 'fastest breakdown cleanup'. His hands scrub at his eyes and cheeks so harshly that he could leave marks, and he sniffs loudly to try and clear his nose. It's a valiant effort, truly, but with the way his eyes continue to well up, it's probably fruitless.

"Hey, kid, it's alright," Fives says, patting his back awkwardly. He's never been very good with things like kids or refugees. That was always more Echo's thing, being a calm, grounded presence- fuck, he wishes Echo were here. He can't think about it. Not now.

Either Dogma doesn't hear him, or he's ignoring him; he continues to try and dry his face. When more tears fall, he snarls wordlessly in frustration.

Maybe a change of topic would be better. "The boys will be here soon," he says, making Dogma's hands flatten over his eyes. "Not- not to do anything, just- I think it'd be best if we got you back to the ship, yeah?"

Dogma sniffs. "I don't want to go," he says miserably.

"Back to the fountain, then?" He tries for a joking tone, one like Jesse had used before, and says, "There's probably a bunch of spiders in here, and I can't say I'm a fan."

The joke, based on Dogma's continued crumpled expression, decidedly does not land. "I- I don't care about spiders," he mutters. "You said, you- you said you wouldn't let them take me."

Well, he hadn’t, actually, but he’s got enough tact to know that certain sentiments don’t need to be stated out loud. “Nobody’s taking you anywhere you don’t wanna go,” Fives says.

“I don’t want to go back to the ship.”

“Okay.”

“I- I don’t want to go back to Kamino.”

The splinters in his chest feel like stabs; he can’t do this. How ironic, that he can hold a dying brother in his arms, yet this is what feels like too much. “You aren’t going there, either,” Fives says quietly. He runs a hand hesitantly over Dogma’s cropped hair, and does so again when he doesn’t pull away. “I’d like to see them try and take you.”

Dogma sniffs again, a little quieter than his previous attempts. His eyes make their way to Fives’ face, uncertain and flickering sporadically to the hand in his hair. Most clones aren’t used to comfort in general- when they are cadets, comfort from an adult is practically unheard of. It’s no wonder that he doesn’t know what to make of what Fives is doing.

“...Promise?” Dogma asks weakly.

“Promise,” Fives swears.

The men find them in quick succession- Tup first, who practically sags against the wall in relief, then Hardcase, who trips over a rock in an attempt to run towards them. His blunder is practically a cadet level mistake, but it does startle a laugh out of Dogma, so Fives decides not to chide him over it. Jesse comes last- given the way that he’s covered in leaves, sticks, and a strange, conspicuous slime, it’s quite obvious that he’d encountered something else still lurking in the garden.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” is all he says when prodded.

They decide that, due to their unexpected dilemma and subsequent search and rescue, they’ve explored the Garden well enough to satisfy whatever the mission parameters may be. The Jedi can handle whatever the hell else is going on with this temple- they’ve got enough on their hands right here. Plus, none of them want to come face-to-face with whatever it was that Jesse had found. They choose as a group to go back to the temple entrance and wait for the rest of their men to be finished.

“Anyone got a holo of that plaque?” Fives asks, knowing he himself absolutely hadn’t. He’d been a bit too preoccupied with certain other events to be taking photos.

Luckily, Tup nods. “Well, not me,” he corrects, “but Dogma did. He was really curious about it.”

Under Fives’ hand, Dogma stiffens. He can somewhat guess why- it’s probably very strange, to hear someone refer to you but not really mean you.

“You’re very responsible,” Tup says, turning to Dogma and smiling. “I’m always counting on you to pick up my slack.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, Tup,” Hardcase grins. “You barely even have slack to pick up. That’s way more in my lane than yours.”

“Now who’s selling himself short?”

As the two of them talk, Dogma watches, and Fives can’t even begin to guess what he might be feeling. His face, while still red from the outburst and the crude attempts at erasing it, is uncomfortably blank. Unreadable.

"You walking alright?" Jesse asks Dogma with a nudge. "Big boots, big armor."

Dogma stands a bit straighter at Fives' side, nodding sharply. "I'm fine," he replies. "It's not that big."

Hardcase snorts.

"Hardcase," Tup scolds, but it falls apart when he chokes, trying to stifle a laugh of his own.

At their laughter, Dogma's cheeks color viciously. "What?" he demands, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not!"

"Right, no, you're right," Hardcase wheezes, "I mean, my gloves are also twice my size!"

Now, Fives knows how normal Dogma would react. Normal Dogma would defend himself, then snap at him, then be sullen for the rest of the mission for who knows what reason. Normal Dogma is, when it comes to his brothers, all bark and no bite.

This is not normal Dogma.

So when Dogma launches himself at Hardcase, hands raised to shove him, hard, Fives doesn't even think to stop him. It barely even registers as something that's happening.

"Di'kut!" Dogma shouts, pushing Hardcase with enough force that he manages to stumble back a few steps. Hardcase defies any and all expectations by letting out a delighted laugh- even as that only elicits another shove.

"You're a spitfire, huh?" he cackles. "All that in such a small package?"

"Shut up!" Dogma cries. Fives almost snaps at Hardcase himself, almost tells him to stop, but-

Dogma is smiling.

Looking back on earlier, back at the fountain, Fives recalls the way that Dogma had grinned when describing his fight with his brother. This sort of antagonism- current Dogma might hate it, might get embarrassed and stiff, but this Dogma? It's what he's used to. For once, Hardcase is speaking a language he understands.

"Y'know, a certain trooper is always telling me that it's not good form to be rude to your brothers," Hardcase muses, eying Dogma with a devious glint. "He also tells me that lying's pretty bad. Looks like you're breaking your own rules, trooper."

"Lying?" Dogma repeats incredulously. "I'm not-"

Before he can finish his statement, one of his boots gets caught under his feet, and he trips, nearly plummeting face-first into the ground. Luckily, Hardcase had been watching him, so he catches him by the backplate before he gets a mouthful of grass.

"Look boys, I've caught a liar!" Hardcase cheers. "You know what we do with liars?"

"Wait- wait, no!"

Hardcase pulls Dogma back towards him, then hooks his arms under Dogma's, lifting him into the air. Shrieking, Dogma tries to wrench himself out of the grip, but Hardcase spins him easily over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Dogma kicks wildly in the air. "Put me down!" he howls, face flushing scarlet at Jesse and Tup's stifled smirks. "This is- this is- unfair! Abuse of authority!"

"Nope," Hardcase says, popping the 'p'. "Lying cadets who can't walk in their shoes get carried. It's the rules."

"You just made that up!"

"Did not! Tup? Hey, Tup, did I make that up?"

At Hardcase's faux innocent face, Tup's terrible attempt at hiding his laughter crumbles. "No, no, you're- you're right," he giggles, smiling ear to ear. "Sorry, Dogma, it's the rules!"

Dogma pounds uselessly at Hardcase's back again, letting out a colorful string of curses that he really shouldn't know at his age. Unsurprising that he does, of course- this version of Dogma, anyway. The language only leads to more cackling from the boys.

Fives himself can't bring himself to join in on the fun, but he does watch, feeling his own cheeks grow weary with a held smile. Not fifteen minutes ago, he was holding Dogma in his lap, trembling in fear over a future he may not get to see, and somehow his men have managed to lift his spirits just by teasing. Screw it- maybe he can scratch that drink Hardcase owes him.

Making it to the temple entrance greets them with the sight of Rex and the rest of his men, which- Prime's dick on a pike, they forgot to tell Rex.

Most of the men are seated on and around the temple's steps- Rex, oblivious to the enormity of what he's missed, waves them over. At the sight of his Captain's weary smile, Fives suddenly feels like he's swallowed a lemon. Can't do anything about that other than move his feet forward. "Boys," their Captain greets, "take it your search went about the same as ours?"

Fives does his very best to keep his head straight forward and not turn around and look at Hardcase's cargo. "Maybe not."

At his extremely helpful statement, Rex tilts his head, then takes off his helmet to reveal a confused squint. "Why're you carting around a trooper, Hardcase?" he asks. "Wait, is that-"

"Sir," Fives rushes, before Hardcase can say anything impulsive. "I am so sorry, I- that is, we commed the General about it, but forgot to check in with you-"

"Check in-"

"-so this situation is really going to seem absurd, but it is true, not a prank, so please don't be too pissed-"

"Fives, what-"

"-and I promise that he is okay, or, not in any danger, anyways, calling you just slipped our minds-"

"Fives-"

Dogma groans loudly from his place on Hardcase's shoulder. "I can't see anything," he complains, petulance clear in his tone. "Can I come down now?"

Rex goes very still. "Fives," he says.

Fives snaps his mouth shut. "Yes, sir?"

"What is that."

"It's, um. It's Dogma, sir."

Hardcase puts Dogma down in front of Rex. Dogma stares up at him blankly, and Rex stares back.

"Dogma?" Rex repeats.

"Yes, sir." Fives resists the urge to shift foot-to-foot in front of his Captain. "There, er, was this fountain, and Dogma-"

Rex kneels down where he stands, getting level with Dogma's face. "Dogma?" he asks, this time to Dogma himself, and not Fives.

Dogma shrugs. "That's what they say," he says. "I'm CT-6922."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of Rex's carefully controlled breathing. He just closes his eyes, and breathes. Fives can't say the same for himself- his lungs probably stopped working around half an hour ago.

Finally, Rex stands, calling, "Kix!"

Shit. They forgot to tell the medic, too. Maybe Dogma's nagging reminders over check-ins are useful for something.

Kix breaks off from the rest of Rex's men, where he'd been performing a quick check-over of them all. They haven't seemed to notice the situation yet- good. Six people is already probably a lot for Dogma, who still doesn't seem to believe any of this is happening; he really doesn't need any more eyes ogling him in his vulnerable state.

"Sir?" Kix asks as he approaches, but his eyes land on Dogma early, causing his easy gait to shutter into an aborted stumble. "Sir," he says again, harder. "Why is there a cadet here?"

"Ask Fives," Rex replies. "Apparently, this is Dogma."

"Sorry, what?"

Fives sighs. If he has to explain what's happened one more time, he's retracting the goodwill Hardcase had earned and putting two drinks on his tab.

He recounts the story in the most straightforward terms possible, watching his Captain's face flicker between bewilderment and exasperation, while Kix largely remains baffled the entire way through. 

"That's impossible," Kix says bluntly.

Rex shakes his head. "Not impossible," he sighs, "just stupid."

Yes, Fives is quite inclined to agree on that. If he could have the choice to never deal with more Jedi bullshit like this in his life, he'd take it in a heartbeat. He's not even the one who got cursed and he's already over it.

Said cursed one is staring at his feet, looking more uncomfortable by the second. Some of the men by the stairs have started to angle their heads over- Fives takes a protective step in front of Dogma to keep him out of sight. The troopers don't mean any harm, he's sure, but the kid is way too disoriented for a crowd.

Rex massages the bridge of his nose tiredly. "So he doesn't remember us?" he asks. "He doesn't remember anything?"

"No, sir. Not anything past his age."

"Right. Alright." A deep, bone-weary inhale, then he turns back to Dogma. "6922, my name is Rex. I'm your Captain, and you're part of the 501st company of the Republic army."

Dogma still wears the same blank expression, but the longer his eyes linger on Rex, the deeper his brows furrow. "You don't have a face tattoo."

Rex blinks. "I- sorry?"

"All the others have one," he explains, speaking to Rex as if he's the small child. Behind him, Fives can hear Hardcase choking on air. "I thought you all would. You're the Captain. Why don't you?"

Rex's mouth works for a few moments, marking one of the only times Fives had ever well and truly seen Rex flounder, and he tucks the memory away immediately for future reminiscing in darker times. Someday, it will be life-saving to look back on the image of Rex wrongfooted by a child.

"Well," Rex starts awkwardly, "I guess I never really felt the need to get one. They're, uh…personal. For individuality, and all that."

"Yeah, but-" Dogma squirms in indecision before responding. "You don't look very individual. You just look- blond."

Oh, forget everything Fives had thought about the previous expression on Rex's face. He might actually need to pull out a pad to take a holo of this.

"Dogma," Tup hisses, pulling him back by the shoulders. "Sir, I am so sorry, I'm sure you can tell, but he's not- he's not exactly himself-"

"I am myself," Dogma objects loudly, wrenching himself from Tup's grip. "It's this other me you keep talking about that- that's wrong." He juts his chin out defiantly at Rex. "I still don't think any of this is real. None of this can be real, it's- it's way more likely to be a test, or, or, a- a Jedi mind…thing, or-"

Rex's face darkens with each word that comes out of Dogma's mouth. Were Dogma paying attention, he'd probably be scared shitless that Rex is mad at him, but he's too distracted by his own rambling to notice the distinctly stormy look Rex has gotten. Fives can tell that it's not anger anyways- only ten minutes into meeting him, and Rex can already put together the pieces of what's happened to him. From the way Kix's lips are pursed, he's come to the same conclusion.

"You're right," Rex says, which makes all of the men turn towards him sharply. Even Dogma stops his muttering cold to stare. "Not about this being a test," he clarifies. "But you're right to be suspicious. I can't imagine how this all must be to you."

Dogma follows him with his eyes, calculated, scrutinizing. "It's weird," he says plainly. "It's really, really weird."

"And I'm very sorry to hear that. However," He straightens himself up from the hunched pose he'd taken, clapping Kix on the shoulder and pushing him forward. "Simulation or not, you're here now, and since you can't find a way to get out, I'm gonna need you to go along with me as if you believe it. And that starts with Kix here making sure you're alright."

"I am alright," Dogma mutters, but doesn't object when Kix kneels down next to him to begin his check-up.

With Kix getting a handle on Dogma, Rex eyes Fives and tilts his head to the side. "Let's talk," he says.

Yeah, he's pretty sure he knows exactly what Rex wants to talk about.

They make it a ways away, enough so that Dogma nor any of the men would be able to hear them, and Rex sighs, suddenly seeming much older than he actually is. "...I didn't know," he begins.

"Was it not on his file?"

"Not the one I was given. Or, maybe, but not where I'd see it- they're not upfront unless it's a direct deposit from Kamino. Shinies, and all that." His mouth presses into a thin line. "With transfers between companies and stations, you're just given a basic write-up of their profile and reason for transfer. The write-up is by whoever's giving them to you, then you either approve it or you don't."

Fives doesn't want to ask, but he has to. He knows he has to. "Do you…remember his reason for transfer, sir?"

The line turns into a wry grin. "Would you believe me if I said it was a positive?"

"A- positive?"

"He was recommended to me due to his excellent ability to retain information on the field, and," he hesitates there. "And how well he followed orders."

Shit.

"I should've guessed," Rex murmurs. His eyes are on Dogma again, who's got his hands on Kix's head in what is definitely not part of the check-up- looking at his tattoo, probably. He really loves those. "He's always been- antsy, I guess, but I thought…"

"I know, sir," Fives says softly. "None of us knew. He never said."

"'Course he never said," Rex scoffs. His voice turns downright bitter as he watches Kix finish up his examination. "They never say. They think they deserve it, all of them. It's just what recon does."

It feels like there's a weight in the air between them. What is Fives supposed to say to something like that?

He's saved from having to come up with any kind of response when his comm beeps. "Hey, Fives," the General says, sounding somewhat winded. "Dogma still tiny?"

"Yes, sir," Fives replies quickly. He tries and fails not to cringe under Rex's raised eyebrow, the single brow somehow more judgemental than any words he could have spoken. Damnit, he really should have just commed Rex first. Commed him at all.

"Figured," he says blithely. "Don't worry. I can't be sure, but I think we might've found the antidote."

"Sir?"

"There's another fountain where we are, with a plaque like the one you guys described," he explains. "From the holo you sent me though, the inscriptions are different. I think whatever you guys found in the garden was the starting point for what me and Snips have been doing this whole time."

"All due respect, sir, but I hate the very concept of that."

The General laughs. "Nobody ever said the Jedi were straightforward in their trials."

"I'll say," Rex mutters. Fives has to agree.

"But anyway, we're collecting some of the water right now, and I've sent both holos up to command for translation. I'm not sure if it's the fountain or the water that does it, but just in case, we'll stay here until the translation comes back. You copy?"

"Affirmative," Fives responds. "Over and out."

They go back to the group, where the men have taken to sitting on the ground surrounding Tup's datapad. Dogma is laying stomach-down in the grass between Tup and Hardcase, kicking his legs idly in the air and thoroughly transfixed by whatever it is that Tup is showing him.

Kix starts to stand as the two of them approach, but Rex's hand on his shoulder eases him back down. "He's in good health, sir," Kix reports. "Other than, well, the obvious. It looks as if no harm came to him from the fall."

Rex nods in acknowledgement, and both he and Fives sit down as well. "Could you give Tup a scan real quick?" Fives asks. Tup's head perks up at his name. "He hit his head pretty hard."

"Ah, sir, I'm alright," Tup says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head where he assumedly cracked it. "There's no need. 'Sides, I'm catching Dogma up on some of the latest holovids."

Hardcase reaches over Dogma to give Tup a light shove. "Hey, listen to him, huh? Screens aren't good for concussions. Not all of us got iron skulls, like me." He raps his knuckles against his temple.

"More like thick skulls," Dogma snorts, eliciting a mocking gasp from Hardcase.

"Insubordination," he accuses. Before Dogma can stop him, he pulls him into his lap in a light headlock, so as to dig his knuckles into the top of his head. "Unruly troopers get punished!"

As Dogma shrieks at him to release him, Fives watches the lines in Rex's face smooth out. He must feel the same soft cloud of nostalgia, the twinge of memories long since forgotten brought right back to the surface. Memories of brothers in the barracks, play fighting, teasing, brawling, lumped together in piles and packs. A time before their lives were consumed by the battlefield.

"Is it strange that I'm sort of glad this happened?" Kix ponders quietly. "The men seem so…"

"Yeah," Fives agrees. "It's a nice break."

He tries not to think about the General coming back with the water and the translations. He tries not to think about how Dogma will react once they tell him. He tries not to think about any of it at all- in this moment, all he wants is to watch his brothers be boys again.

It's not allowed to last.

It never is.

The General and the Commander emerge from the entrance of the temple, looking significantly rumpled and, on the Commander's side, rather, irritated, but thankfully uninjured.

"Look alive, men!" the General calls, causing every trooper to stand at attention. "Your Commander and I will be checking in with each of your groups to make sure we've covered everything and collected all necessary information to prep for the historians coming in a few standard rotations. Everyone ready?"

A chorus of "Yes sir!" rings out. Dogma's the only one who hadn't stood at the General's arrival- from where Fives can see him on the ground, he looks to be caught off-guard by the sudden formality. Even more so when the General starts making his way towards their group first.

"Men," he says, politely ignoring the way Dogma scrambles to his feet. "Hear you're in need of some translations."

"Yes, sir," Rex replies. Fives notes with a bloom of warmth that Rex is still angled protectively in front of Dogma, just as he'd done himself. 

The General hands a pad over to Rex, then a canteen to Kix. "Should shed some light on things," he says, then smiles, tilting around Rex to catch Dogma's peeking eyes. "Hey, kid. Bet they didn't teach you anything like this on Kamino."

A wild shake of the head. "No," he says, then hastily tacks on a, "sir."

"Above their pay grade," the General sighs, still smiling, but turns back to Rex. "I've got to check in with the other troopers, but you let me know what Kenobi found."

"Yes sir."

When the General leaves to start his rounds, Dogma lets out a gust of air that makes everyone startle slightly.

"Something wrong?" Jesse asks carefully, but Dogma shakes his head.

"It's just- I've never met a Jedi before."

When Fives looks in Dogma's eyes, he's not sure what to expect. Awe, maybe. Admiration. Intimidation, even. Most clones feel some mix of reverence and hesitation, considering the little that they learned about the Jedi on Kamino essentially amounted to the wizards who will be your Generals. It usually doesn't take long after working with them for that attitude to shake off- hard to retain that sort of reverence when you're watching your General eat shit against a rancor, or get smacked upside the head by a droid- but it can be a hard hurdle to leap over.

None of that is on Dogma's face. He looks- bewildered.

"He's so normal," he breathes, and isn't that just ironic. Normal Dogma's not even a shiny, and he still holds Skywalker in a place of near-holy esteem. His cadet self apparently does not hold such opinions- he really should be expecting this by now.

Jesse lets out a sardonic chuckle. "Don't let him hear you say that, otherwise he'll hurt himself trying to impress you next time."

"Will he really?"

"Oh, assuredly."

Dogma turns to watch the General's trailing figure, which happens to be the perfect timing to see him ungracefully stumble on a root in the ground- he recovers near immediately, but since both Fives and Dogma had been watching, they had caught it easily. Dogma lets out a few giggles.

Rex clears his throat. "Yes, well, if we're done making fun of the General," he says, and despite the stern tone, there's a glitter of humor in his eyes. "We've got some translations to look through, and hopefully, a trooper to bring back."

Dogma's smile drops.

Maybe they should have had Hardcase pull him aside, had Tup keep distracting him with videos and photos and games, maybe they should have done anything to make sure that he wasn't listening during this meeting. Too late for any of that now- Dogma's just as attentive as the other men, if not moreso. No- attentive is not the right word. He's anxious as all hell.

Fives watches as Dogma listens to Rex relay the information they've received. Watches as his fists clench and unclench at his sides at the description of the fountains, how from what General Kenobi can gather, they were the start and finish of some sort of sacred ceremony for the people who once occupied the temple. Watches the sweat gather and bead down his forehead as Rex informs them that no, it's not the fountains themselves, it is, in fact, just the water, meaning they do not have to endure whatever it was that the General and the Commander had to go through. Watches as his eyes find the canteen in Kix's hands, and he takes a step back.

"That about wraps it up," Rex sighs, shutting off the pad and pocketing it. "General Kenobi says that it should be safe for us to use the other water from the fountain- he says it's not so much an 'age up' and 'age down' thing, but more like…" His hand curls around his chin as he muses. "More like one administers the effect, and one removes it. Shouldn't even be dangerous for us to touch this one. And that's not," he warns, turning sharply to Hardcase and Jesse, "permission. It shouldn't be dangerous, but as your Captain, I am ordering everyone here to leave the canteen to Kix and Kix alone."

He hasn't seemed to notice Dogma's unease, but Fives certainly has. The kid's stuck in place, staring at his hands. Clenching, unclenching. The sight is all too similar to how he'd been at the fountain before for Fives' comfort.

"Kid," he says softly, laying a hand on Dogma's shoulder. It makes him flinch, harsher than expected, and his head jerks up to meet his gaze. "You alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine," Dogma says. His gaze is worryingly unfocused. "I, I- I think I wanna sit down."

"Sure thing," he agrees, but Dogma makes no move to sit. Fives takes it upon himself to walk him over and lower him onto one of the temple's steps. His ill-fitting armor clatters around him, hiking up at his shins and thighs, and Fives suddenly feels very stupid. "What d'you say about getting that armor off, huh?" He gestures to the pauldrons and vambraces. "Can't be too comfortable." Plus, it'll be better for when he turns back, but Fives doesn't say that part. Best to keep anything involving turning back to himself for now, lest he make anything worse.

Dogma nods, but it's distracted, as if he isn't really hearing him. Too caught up in his own head. No matter- Fives can help. It's the least he can do.

Off come the pauldrons, then the vambraces, then the bicep cuffs. The cuirass comes next- he goes slow, careful, and telegraphs his movements, but Dogma doesn't show any signs of panicking. So far, so good.

"We peeling him?" Hardcase asks, coming up from behind. "Need any help?"

Fives shakes his head. "If you could put his armor somewhere where it won't get dirty, he'd probably like that."

"No problem." It might be Fives' imagination, but his tone seems to have softened slightly. He ruffles Dogma's hair as he reaches over to pick up some armor pieces, which causes Dogma's face to flicker with something unreadable before returning to the disconcerting blankness.

Thighs and boots next. "Mind lifting this leg for me?" he asks.

Dogma complies, quiet, but a hesitant breath has Fives listening. "...Is this real?" he asks. His voice is barely above a whisper.

Fives' grip on the cuisses falters. Risking a glance at Dogma's face, he finds it drawn and tight, eyes trained on his knees.

Fuck. Fuck.

"Yeah, kid," he says. "It's real."

"They're gonna recondition me." His face screws up further. "They already did, didn't they? I'm not even…this is all some Jedi trick."

The cuisses lands on the ground with a dull thud once Fives is done with it. "We run into a lot of Jedi tricks," he says, pulling off Dogma's boot. "Can be a real hassle, working with those guys."

"...I don't want to go."

"I know, kid, I-"

A wet sniff makes him nearly break his teeth with how fast he shuts up.

"I want to be dreaming," Dogma says miserably. "I want to wake up. But I'm not going to." Picking at the large, flopping gloves on his hands, he pulls them off, clutching them tightly between his fingers as if they were a stress ball. "It all feels too- too real. Dreams don't feel this real."

Fives moves to his other leg, and begins working on the thigh guard there with a gentleness he hadn't thought he had. "It'll be alright, kid," he murmurs. "I know it's hard, but it'll be a lot easier once it's all over."

"...Will it hurt?"

"No. No, you- you won't feel a thing."

His face crumples. Tears drop onto the plastoid below, narrowly missing Fives' thinly shaking hands. "I- I feel like I'm dying," he whispers. "Will I remember? I don't- I don't want to forget, I don't-" He cuts himself off with a sob.

"Ah, shit, kid," Fives says, discarding the last boot so he can sit next to Dogma on the step. He pulls him flush against his side, rubbing his arm through the blacks, and presses his forehead into Dogma's hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Dogma?"

It's Hardcase. Back to collect more of Dogma's armor, to order it somewhere clean for him once he's- back. Once he's normal.

Will he remember laughing at Hardcase's jokes?

"Fives," Hardcase says, stuck awkwardly where he stands. "Fives, is he-" Fives shoots him a look, the kind that says, are you really asking me that, and he swallows audibly before coming forward and squatting down on the steps below. "Dog? Hey, bud, you alright?"

Dogma gives a near imperceptible shake of his head. "Don't wanna forget," he manages to say.

"Aw, what? You won't forget, not about us."

Another shake of his head, harder this time. "You can't know that," he sniffs. "A-and even if I don't, it won't be me, it- it'll be this other me, the one they put in my head."

"Put in your…"

"We didn't know how it worked," Tup says suddenly, approaching from the side Fives' can't see. He picks up the thigh guard Hardcase had forgotten. "It was always threatened, but we never really…they never told us what they actually did."

Fives nods tiredly against Dogma's head. "Easier to scare 'em like that," he agrees. "Rumors went wild."

"Oh. How come I never heard any of them?"

Tup rolls his eyes as he sits down on Dogma's other side, clasping his shoulder. "You probably did, and just didn't realize," he says. "Or you just forgot."

"Maybe they just threatened me with it so many times that they felt like they had to tell me how it worked."

"You knew?"

"Vaguely, yeah. Wheedled it out of 'em. Don't think most of the rumors could be worse than-"

"Boys," Fives hisses. He gestures pointedly at Dogma, who's gone from pale to sheet-white at their conversation. "Not the time."

Both men wince, with Tup taking his hand away quickly and twisting it in his lap. "Sorry," Tup blurts out. "We didn't mean- sorry."

"It's okay," Dogma says. His eyes are glossy with unshed tears, and Fives fights the urge to wipe them away.

It shouldn't have to be like this. He shouldn't have to hurt like this. Fuck, he's just a kid. And even though Fives knows that there isn't any time screwage, that this is just a force-cursed Dogma, he can't help but imagine them sending this Dogma back to his life, leaving him to count the days and wonder which one will be the one he gets wiped. The concept is so vivid and nauseating that for just a moment, Fives has to take a deep breath and stop himself from retching.

Tentatively, Tup puts his hand back on Dogma's shoulder, and Dogma grabs it in one of his own. Something cracks in Fives' chest- the kid may have taken a shining to Hardcase, but even like this, he and Tup are close. He wonders whether their compatibility comes from this Dogma, or the Dogma they have now.

Does it even matter? Why make the distinction? They're both him. He's gone through something awful, something he can never come back from, but underneath, it's the same bones, the same blood, the same brain. A changed man, but the same nonetheless.

Tell that to Dogma, his brain sneers.

Perhaps he shouldn't think so naively about things he barely understands. There's no reassurance in the world Fives could give that will fix what Dogma is thinking, no way to convince him of a singularity of self that even he doesn't fully believe. All he can do is hold him through it.

"I miss m-my brothers," Dogma chokes out.

"Oh, vod'ika, they're out there somewhere," Hardcase soothes. Fives can tell that he's uncertain even as he says it- for all they know, Dogma's the last of his batch. He might've lost them the same day he was slated for reconditioning. But he doesn't let it show. He just sits in front of Dogma, gentle smile on his face, and runs a hand through his hair. "Don't worry. We can fill in for them while they're gone."

Dogma leans into the touch. "I really don't want to forget. I- I know the other me knows, but I- it's not the same, I don't-" He sucks in a breath through his teeth, closing his eyes. Silent tears track down his cheeks. "I don't want to disappear."

A heavy silence falls over the group. Nobody can offer true reassurance- all of them know that it's a complete gamble on whether Dogma will remember this, and none of them know whether or not Dogma remembers anything pre-recon. The only thing guaranteed is that no trooper here will forget- Fives, Tup, Hardcase, Jesse- all but Dogma.

Tup's eyes widen. "I have an idea," he says abruptly. "Jesse!"

From where Rex and Kix are standing, Jesse trods over. "Yeah? What's-" He stops starkly at the sight before him. Fives doesn't blame him- he's sure they make quite the spectacle. Bundled on the steps of a temple, surrounding a snot-faced cadet. To anyone outside the situation, they might look ridiculous. Jesse knows better. "Shit, Tup, is he-"

"Jesse, sit down," Tup interrupts. "Over here, by Hardcase."

"O…kay?"

"Hardcase, can you scoot- yes, thank you."

"Tup, what're you-"

"Fives, you're at a better angle," he continues smoothly. "Get your pad out and take a picture of us."

"I- what?"

Dogma blinks. "You…want a picture with me?" he asks, as if he can't quite believe it.

Tup grins at him. "This way, even if you forget, we can remind you," he explains. "You won't be gone, Dogma. We won't let that happen."

Put Tup on Fives' list of owed drinks. Prime's tits. How come he hadn't thought of this?

Dogma looks downright astonished as Fives nods, twisting around to grab his datapad from his pack. He spends a bit more time than necessary rummaging through it, if only so that he can give Dogma an excuse to scrub his eyes vigorously with one less gaze on him.

"Here she is," he says, pulling it out with a flourish. Turning back around reveals a determinedly put-together Dogma, still red in the face but decidedly not glossy-eyed. "Everyone holo-ready?"

"Hold on, let me fix my hair," Hardcase says. Fives actually pauses to let him before he remembers that the bastard is bald.

Groaning, Fives swats him on said bald head, which gets a snort out of Dogma. He's definitely counting that as a win for himself- Hardcase isn't the only funny one around here, he's got a reputation to uphold. "Big smile, Dogma," he says as he angles the pad in the air.

Dogma smiles. Hardcase gives both him and Fives tooka ears. Jesse pretends like he's about to lick Hardcase's ear, and Tup is too distracted by Jesse to make any face other than a disgusted sneer.

It's a genuinely terrible holo. There's even a slight shake to it, due to Fives starting to laugh at Tup's expression. They all look ridiculous and completely out of form, nothing like the strong-stanced photo he has with Echo, Rex, and Cody. This one might as well be taken by a bunch of cadets.

Fives thinks it might just be one of his favorite pictures he has.

From the looks of it, Dogma likes it too. He leans over Fives to get closer, squawking in mock outrage when he sees how Hardcade defaced him.

"You gave me tooka ears!" he cries, flushing a deep red.

"And they are just adorable."

Dogma's able to keep the indignation for a few seconds, but dissolves into a giggling fit once Jesse starts doing tooka ears behind Hardcase without him noticing. Hardcase twists to see what Dogma's laughing at, but Jesse retracts his hand into scratching at his neck. His confusion just leads Tup to start snickering too, and even Fives can't help but snort.

Cadets, the lot of them. Kix was right- there's a part of him, a guilty part, but a part nonetheless, that's glad that this mission went awry this way.

"There we go, Dogma," he says, pressing the pad into Dogma's hands. "Now, if you can't remember, we can show you this and jog your memory."

He holds it gingerly, eyes eager but hands uncertain. "Do you really think that'll work?" he asks.

Two options here. Tell the truth, or make him feel better.

"Yeah, kid," Fives says, smiling as he claps Dogma on the shoulder. "I do."

He calls Kix over a few minutes later.

"He's ready, then?" Kix asks. Fives shrugs.

"Ready as he'll ever be." The forced causality isn't just for Dogma's sake- everyone's eyes follow the canteen in Kix's hand with unease. Even his own gaze finds itself trailing it sharply, and he has to shake himself out of it. No use working himself up now. If he goes down, then so does everyone else, especially the one who the canteen is en route to.

Dogma's still sitting on the steps, but the far-away look in his eyes is gone. Even his posture is straight- he appears to be doing his absolute best to look as unbothered and prepared as possible, as if he's just going in for another round of training, and not- well. Not the reality of the situation at hand.

"Hi, Dogma," Kix says gently as they approach. "How're you feeling?"

"Hi Kix," Dogma replies. His thumbs rub together in his lap. "I'm okay."

Fives cracks a grin, knocking Kix with his shoulder. "How come Kix gets first-name basis, and I don't?" he teases. "Is he that much nicer than me?"

Dogma gives him a funny look. "You never told me your name?"

Oh. Well, now he feels stupid. "Alright," he concedes, hands in surrender, "that's on me. Guess I forgot you didn't know it. The name's Fives."

"Fives?" Dogma repeats, wrinkling his nose. "Like the number?"

"Yeah. CT-5555, to Fives."

"He says it's transformative," Kix supplies helpfully.

There's a beat of unimpressed silence. "That's kind of dumb," Dogma says.

"Hm." Fives turns to Kix thoughtfully, thumbing in Dogma's direction. "Change him back."

Yes, it was a little mean, but Dogma's high-pitched shout of outrage was very worth it. Might as well get some last minute joking in, before.

Before it's over.

Once Dogma's calmed down from his rage, Kix tells Fives to step back as he sits next to him.

"In case something like what happened before happens again," he explains.

Fives gets it, but- it feels wrong. Standing back, it feels far less helpful than being able to give him a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

No. He has to trust Kix. More importantly- he has to trust Dogma.

When Kix hands the canteen to Dogma, he sees the way the boy's hands shake. It takes all his willpower not to step right back up and plant his ass back down next to him, but he abstains, choosing instead to keep standing steady in case Dogma needs something in his vision to ground him. A little further back, Tup, Jesse, and Hardcase stand in wait, heeding the same instructions that Fives was given. It's immensely frustrating, even if it is for safety purposes- he's pretty sure every single one of them would rather be on those steps than standing here.

Rex comes up behind him. "He'll be okay," he murmurs. 

"I didn't say anything."

"You think very loudly."

Not usually, he almost says, but manages to purse his lips at the last second. Saying that would condemn him to acknowledging that Rex is right, and that he's worried shitless. He cannot be worried shitless right now.

Dogma's holding the canteen like a grenade. Ginergly, away from his body, and completely still, as if a single movement will send it flying.  "The lid is tight," Kix says, causing Dogma to look up distractedly at him. "Don't worry. Nothing happens until you're ready."

The boy does not look convinced. "It won't hurt," he says, not as a question, but as a- repetition.

He's repeating Fives.

"That's right," Kix says gently. "It won't hurt. It'll be like waking up."

More like going to sleep.

It's a good thing Fives is paying attention to his filter right now- that one would've probably earned him an elbow worthy of Hardcase. It might not even be true- for all they know, Dogma will come back to them and need at least a week to stew in embarrassment over how he'd acted as a child. He very well could remember every single moment.

Or he could not.

Fives can lie to Dogma, but he can't lie to himself.

"Wait," Dogma blurts out, shoving the canteen back into Kix's hands. "Can I- can I do something first?"

"Of course," Kix nods.

Dogma leaps up, then darts towards them quickly, barreling into Hardcase with a tight hug.

"Oof," Hardcase wheezes, stumbling from the force of it.

"Bye, Hardcase," Dogma says, giving him another squeeze, before turning to Jesse and locking him in the same hold. "Bye, Jesse," he says, then pats his forehead, square in the middle of his cog. "I hope we get matching tattoos someday."

Oh, maker. He actually means that.

Tup is next- unlike the other two, he takes a knee to embrace Dogma at his level. "Bye Tup," Dogma says, a touch softer than before.

"See you soon," Tup says with a ruffle to Dogma's hair.

And then there is Fives.

For a moment, Fives thinks Dogma might skip over him; not that he'd blame him, exactly, but the hesitance does sort of sting. He hasn't been that unapproachable- hell, he'd been the one to find the kid after his runaway stint. It ends up being a short-lived worry regardless, as Dogma only pauses for a second before crashing into Fives' chest.

"Bye, Fives," he says, then lowers his voice to a whisper. "Thanks. For…y'know." He sucks in a harsh breath, then pulls away to look Fives in the eye. "I'll remember?" he asks- again, he asks, and again, Fives has to lie.

He sounds hopeful. Hope is a scarce thing to come by, nowadays.

"Like waking up," Fives assures.

Dogma nods, turns back to the steps and starts walking away, and Fives manages all of three seconds before breaking away from the rest of his men to fall in line at Dogma's side.

"Fives," Kix scolds, grabbing his arm before he can sit. "You of all people should know exactly why we're all standing at a distance."

The hand comes off with a shrug, and Fives plops down on the step. "I'm well aware, believe me," he says, "but c'mon, Kix- you're really asking him to do it alone?"

At that, Kix's face softens with guilt- he looks to Dogma quickly, who straightens up upon being noticed. "I can do it- it's okay, I can," he says. Defensive- of course he is, pride clearly retained from his normal self- but it can only cover so much. His hands still hold the canteen with a fine tremor.

Yeah, like hell Fives is going to stand back and watch.

"I'll keep my bucket on," he promises. Kix pulls his lips into a wary frown.

"...Fine. But I claim full 'I told you so' privileges if you need so much as a scan."

"I can live with that."

Despite Dogma's protests, it's obvious that he prefers the company. His hands still shake, but far less so, and he doesn't seem nearly as pale. Watching Kix back away to the rest of the men- all giving him tooka eyes, probably asking if they can come back too and receiving a hard no- Fives is glad that he can be Dogma's anchor. The kid leans into his arm, tentative at first, then fully when Fives pushes back in encouragement.

"So, then," he says, resting his arms on his knees. "What're you supposed to…do with it?"

Dogma squints down at it. "He said I should drink it."

"Really?"

"Just to be safe." This statement is accompanied by air quotes, absolutely dripping with sarcasm. His nose wrinkles in disgust, upper lip curling petulantly, and it is so completely Dogma that Fives has to stifle a laugh. "I don't wanna drink old fountain water. What if there's freaky alien germs?"

"Hmm," Fives muses. "Well, we have a good medic."

Dogma rolls his eyes, shoving his shoulder against Fives' hard enough to knock his arm off-balance from his knee, but he's wearing that good-natured smile he gets when they're all joking with him. It's subdued, but there. Good enough for Fives.

The others are trying to act like they aren't watching them. Waiting. Dogma shuffles uncomfortably on the step.

"I should probably do it now," he says quietly.

Fives hesitates. "Kix said whenever you're ready."

"Yeah." His face is carefully blank. "I'm scared."

"That's okay."

"Could you- can I-?"

Fives doesn't get a chance to ask what he wants before Dogma grabs his hand. He doesn't do anything, doesn't pull it, doesn't even clutch it that hard- he just holds it. His hands are so fucking small.

"'Course you can," Fives says softly, curling his fingers around Dogma's. "No problem."

Dogma nods, not looking at him- he's got the canteen between his knees and is screwing the cap off one-handed. Probably would've been smarter to just let go, but he seems in no hurry to do so, and, if he's being honest, neither is Fives.

It's strange. He'd started today feeling exactly the same about Dogma as he has for the past month or so since they've started working together, and yet here, now, after a mere few hours, does he finally feel the curl of protectiveness he feels over all the members of his squad. Not that he hadn't wanted to keep Dogma safe before, that wasn't it- there had just been a disconnect between Dogma the man and Dogma the soldier. In a fight, he's the same as any other brother; back in the barracks, though, he was- well. All that matters is that it's different now.

No matter what happens when Dogma drinks the stupid fountain water, Fives is protecting this kid, even if this kid is gone for good.

Dogma holds the open canteen to his lips. Fives' heart jumps into his throat.

Before he drinks, he finally meets Fives' eyes again, round and sad and far more resigned than any child should ever have to be. "Bye, Fives," he says again. "S- see you later."

"...See you later, kid." He gives his hand a squeeze. Dogma squeezes back.

And he drinks.

There's no blast this time- no overwhelming force, no propulsion that throws Fives into another round with the grass. It's more like the world…shifts, for lack of a better word. He's holding Dogma's hand, and everything is the same, but his sight sort of- tilts, and his stomach does a funny turn, and it's like his vision manually realigns itself one particle at a time. It all happens in around seven seconds, which feels both far too short and far too long for what occurs. One moment, there is CT-6922, an unruly and quick-witted cadet who is not yet Dogma, and the next, there is Dogma, a man who is thoroughly dazed and staring at nothing.

Fives opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It's just- it was so fast. He's gone.

"...Dogma?" he finally manages to say, squeezing the hand that is still clenched in his own. "You with us?"

Dogma blinks heavily. His eyebrows pull together, deep confusion settling into the lines on his face, and Fives can actually see the moment where Dogma starts to come back to reality.

"...Fives?" he asks. He sounds like he's just woken up from the longest sleep of his life.

"Yeah, brother. It's me."

"Fives…"

Kix walks up to them brusquely, paying no attention to their stilted conversation and taking Dogma's head in his hands. Fortunately, Dogma complies- he always complies, always lets people do what they need to do- but Fives thinks this time it's more due to being completely out of it than deference to Kix.

"Pupils are dilated, but not worryingly so," Kix mutters. "Dogma? Can you hear us?"

Dogma nods slowly. "Fives?" he asks again. His eyes trail over to where Fives sits next to him.

"Yeah?"

"Why am I…" No, no, no… "Why am I in my blacks?"

No.

It's not just Fives whose heart has dropped. Hardcase looks crushed- he wears it openly, unlike Jesse, who merely gains a tight frown. Tup turns away; an unseen reaction is just as telling as a caught one, if not moreso. He gets it, though- the urge to hide his face is rather compelling.

He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember.

Fives had held him, had reassured him over and over and over again, had promised him, and he-

"Fives?" He's still staring, eyes bleary and unfocused, but waiting. "...What happened?" He looks down at their hands, finally noticing the hold, and he frowns. "Why are you-"

"Had a bit of a fall there," he interrupts, retracting his hand quickly. "You, uh- hit your head in the fountain. Been pretty dazed."

Tup turns to look at him sharply. For a brother so normally withdrawn, he can certainly wear a face of accusation damn well.

He knows. He knows he's being a coward. He knows that this is stupid, and that it's only a matter of time before they have to tell him. More than any of that, he knows that they promised to do so. But now- Dogma's disoriented, and confused, and on a planet he doesn't know or trust, and Fives is suddenly crushed under the weight of what exactly they need to tell him.

It's more than just, hey, Dogma, you got a weird Jedi curse! No, it's not that. It's not even, hey, Dogma, you got a weird Jedi curse, and you turned into a kid, and it was really embarrassing! Of course it couldn't just be that either. It can't ever just be that. No, what they have to tell him- what they have to break to him, have to spell all out- is, hey, Dogma, you got a weird Jedi curse, and you turned into a kid, and we all accidentally found out that you were almost certainly reconditioned and most definitely didn't want us knowing that!

Just- not now. Soon. Soon, they'll tell him. But not now.

Dogma rubs at the back of his head, squinting at Fives, then Kix, then the rest of the men, then he spots Rex and his eyes widen. "Is the mission over, sir?" he asks. Straight-backed. He always sits so straight.

Rex says nothing for a long moment. "Yes," he says. "It's over."

He doesn't say anything else. Neither do the others.

What is there to say?

Nothing, he supposes. Other than the one thing he can say- "Come on. Let's get you back to the ship."

______

Things are…strange, for lack of a better word, after that mission.

Dogma knows something's up. It had been too much to hope for that he'd shrug off the lingering stares and voices that are a touch softer than normal- he's never been one to shrug off anything, how could Fives think that he'd start now?

And, yes, he's willing to admit that this is partly his fault, letting things go on like this for so long. He just- there isn't ever a right time. How do you possibly bring up something like that in casual conversation? Or worse, trapping him in the barracks with the immensely foreboding threat of we need to talk.

Tup's been on his ass about it.

"He's been antsy, Fives, you know he has," he had hissed under his breath one day during a patrol mission. "Last night, I caught him reading the mission reports from it again. He just keeps reading them, the ones before it, the ones after it, trying to figure out if something happened." Fives couldn't see his face due to his bucket, but he'd gotten the distinct feeling that Tup had been glaring daggers at him. "We can't keep lying to him."

"Force, Tup, I know," he'd groaned. "I just- give me some time to think about it. You know how delicate this is."

Tup had snorted humorlessly. "We're soldiers," he'd said. "Since when do we get to care about delicate?"

A truer statement than Fives would like to admit.

If he's being fair, it's not just him and his squad that's acting weird- Dogma's been strange too. Not strange the way that they've been strange, a little too soft on him, too awkward. Strange in the way that he suddenly can't seem to spend more than five minutes with any one of them.

Fives would blame it on their own behavior, but it doesn't seem to be correlated. Even when everyone else is managing to act normal, Dogma's still shifting, fiddling with his gear, and almost always wearing his helmet- he's scarcely shown his face in the two weeks since the mission at the temple. And, of course, the avoidance; not only does he hide in his bucket, but he doesn't talk as much, either. When he does, the first words out of his mouth are usually some sort of clipped excuse to get out of talking any more.

It doesn't make sense. Dogma's always been more inclined to solitude than the rest of them, but he's never been antisocial. He likes spending time with his brothers, even if it's to chew them out over some innocuous rule they don't know that they're breaking- he's never been one to outright object to company, or rather, basic conversation.

So. Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, and Tup are acting weird, and Dogma's acting weird, and he can't even tell if the weirdness is related or not. Fantastic job as squad leader, is what he's doing. He's got to figure something out.

It's during an off day just after he's finished his own dinner when Fives manages to catch Dogma- sans helmet, to boot. He hadn't necessarily been looking for him, but he's making his way from the mess to their barracks when he spots the man alone by some cargo that had been shipped in earlier that day, and, well, Fives isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he can't solve one problem, might as well investigate the other.

"Dogma," he calls, and Dogma actually flinches- clearly, he hadn't been expecting company. He's got a tray in his hands. Was he eating out here? Alone?

Come to think of it, Fives hasn't really seen him in the mess lately, either. How far has he been taking this avoidance act?

Dogma sets the tray on one of the cargo boxes behind him quickly. "Sir," he says as Fives approaches. "Apologies, I didn't see you coming."

"We aren't on the field, Dogma, at ease," he says, waving a hand at Dogma's stiff posture. "You don't have to call me 'sir' off-mission, either. That's more for Rex and the General."

"You're the squad leader, sir."

"Yeah, which means what I say goes."

It's only light teasing, but Dogma's expression still sours. His fingers twitch sporadically at his side, like he wants to grab something, but the only thing within reach is his tray of half-eaten rations.

Weird. "You eating out here instead of in the mess?" Fives asks, leading with what he's hoping is an easy question.

"Yes."

He waits for elaboration, but gets none. This already feels like pulling teeth.

"Let me rephrase- why are you eating out here instead of in the mess?"

"The cafeteria is- loud, sir."

A stutter. Dogma doesn't normally stutter. And he went back to sir, even though Fives told him it's not necessary. The guy is stiff, but if someone higher rank tells him to do something- or not to do something- he goes with it.

Something's definitely off.

"Yeah, it can be," he replies, going for a casual tone and managing to land somewhere around the mark. "The boys can get real fired up after a day of nothing and finally being in a room together."

"Yes," Dogma repeats. He won't look Fives in the eye- is this what his face has been doing under his helmet this whole time? Skittering gaze, tight grimace?

Fives decides to take a step further. "Everything good?" he asks. "I know it's noisy, but it can't be any fun eating out here alone. Tup's probably missing you in there as his backup."

"I- I, uh-"

More stuttering, worse than the first time. He starts blinking- his expression flickers rapidly between confused and angry, two emotions Fives does not think are normal responses to the question of why are you eating alone in a hallway, then he draws in a sharp breath.

"Sorry. Sir. I need to go now. Thank you."

With that extremely stilted parting comment, Dogma makes his exit, complete with an extremely stilted speedwalk to match. He doesn't even bring the rest of his rations.

What the fuck?

No, really. That's- not right. He's been off, but he hasn't been off enough to pull something like that yet. Blatantly lying to get out of an extraordinarily simple conversation- with Fives, someone he considers a superior, as odd as that still is to think about. The most he's done up until now is quietly wait for an opening to escape talking, not tear one open himself. Now, Dogma's making a beeline down the hall, obviously retreating and dangerously close to being out of Fives' sight.

And sure, Fives respects all his brothers' privacy, would never normally consider following them when they clearly don't want to be followed, but- that was weird. Way too weird. Even for Dogma standards.

So, swallowing down his guilt, Fives follows.

He doesn't exactly make it difficult- one left turn, then he's ducking into a supply closet, just far enough that he shouldn't be able to see or hear Fives approaching. Supply closets- a favorite hiding place of the overwhelmed cadet or the newly-appointed shiny. They've all taken their turn in one at one point or another. For a full-blown soldier like Dogma to seek one out, though- that's a bit odd. Doubly so considering nothing had even happened, beyond an awkward conversation.

Curiosity piqued further, Fives comes at it slowly, in case Dogma's got his ears trained on the door. Nothing of note so far; though, if he's being fair, he's not exactly sure what would be of note. Dogma barreling out the door, standing at attention and saying that there's nothing to see? Screaming, wailing, and banging on the other side of the wall, evidence of a total breakdown? The sound of an animal, revealing the fact that Dogma's secretly had a hidden pet in their barracks the entire time?

Obviously, none of that happens. He gets to the door, and it's quiet. Too quiet.

Fives decides to risk opening it. He turns the handle, slowly, achingly so, and cracks it open just a touch, just enough that he can stick his ear to the sliver of dark and strain his hearing. Thankfully, the door hadn't made a sound- gotta hand it to those Kaminoans, keeping everything quite literally a well-oiled machine.

Nothing. There's nothing.

No, wait- there's a sound, the sound of-

"Get it together," he hears Dogma whisper, angrier than he's ever heard him before. That's new. It's not just that, though- his voice is sort of…clogged, stuffy, as if he's been-

Oh, shit.

"Come on," Dogma sniffs. Never heard a sniff with malice, but he's doing a good job of it. "Come on. You're fine, everything's fine, it's all-"

The door creaks.

Well-oiled machine his ass.

Dogma silences immediately, and Fives curses his own failing posture to the stars and back. He'd gotten complacent, started leaning against the door- if the creak hadn't gotten Dogma's attention, the growing light from the crack certainly would've. His cover is completely and utterly blown.

It's…for the best, probably. He'd started to feel like a terribly awkward intruder.

Surprisingly, Dogma hasn't called out, or stalked to the door, or done anything, really. He's gone deathly quiet- most likely hoping to hide the fact that he's there at all. Fives can sympathize with that; nobody would want to be caught crying, especially not a soldier. They're not supposed to be weak like this. Luckily, unlike their trainers from Kamino, most brothers are pretty lenient on another brother's weakness. Thing is, it's one thing when it's a brother breaking down, and an entirely different thing when it's you.

Up to Fives, then. He opens the door a bit further- just enough to let himself inside and turn on the light- and steps in. "Dogma?" he asks, knowing full well that Dogma is still inside the closet and is still pretending like he's not. "Sorry, I- you alright?"

There's nothing for a moment, but then there's a sigh, coming from behind a large, shut-down maintenance droid, and Dogma says, "Sir, I'm sorry, but this really isn't the best time."

Same old professional Dogma. "You sound upset," Fives says, stepping over a broom to land in front of Dogma's hiding place.

Pretty much exactly what he'd expected to see. Dogma's got himself hunched behind the droid- he stands quickly, making himself level with Fives, but he's still leaning against the wall for support. He narrows his eyes- red, red like two weeks ago, when Fives first found him in the alcove, small and curled up and confused- "Did you follow me?"

"I-"

"Why?"

Fives clears his throat awkwardly. "I, er, no, I- you know, you went this way, and I just so happened to also be going this way, and the closet was right here, so I-"

"So you opened the supply closet. For no reason."

"...Yeah."

Dogma does not look impressed. Fives wouldn't be either, were he on the receiving end. "Why?" he asks again, "why did you follow me?" Another sniff escapes him, which he tries, and fails, to stifle quickly. His lips twist into a bitter frown. "I'd really prefer to- to deal with this myself."

The slight stutter there, the break in the sentence that parallels the break in their eye contact, is enough of a clue-in that Dogma is far more embarrassed than he's letting on. More than that, though, he's- annoyed. Fives knew that he was angry, strange enough as it is, but annoyed?

"Look, okay, yes, I followed you," he admits, dragging a hand over his eyes and nose. "I didn't mean- you just left sorta quickly, and I thought it was, um. Weird. So I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"I'm fine," Dogma says, fast, in that way that means it's an automatic response.

His eyes keep skirting away. Why won't he look at him?

"Dogma," Fives begins, suddenly all too aware how much harder it is to do this with one of his men and not a cadet. "You know the wellbeing of my squad is a high priority. If something's wrong, I-"

"Sir," Dogma bursts out. "Please. Leave it alone. Just- leave it. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am."

"Dogma, you're in a fucking storage closet!"

His face grows rigid, lips drawn tight as a bow. It's no use- Fives can interrogate all he wants, but Dogma's a stubborn man, and his pride's on the line.

Well. Fives can be stubborn too. "Come on," he sighs, gesturing to Dogma's stilted posture and watery eyes, which he blinks rapidly but does not move to dry. "This is getting us nowhere. I'm sorry for following you, but you need to tell me what's wrong."

A beat of silence. Then, Dogma speaks, his voice deathly quiet, furiously resigned, and- somewhere, underneath it all- scared. "...Is that an order, sir?"

Fuck.

Fives must have screwed this up royally. He's not sure where the misstep occured, but he's willing to bet that it was somewhere around choosing to follow Dogma in the first place. He hadn't wanted- he'd just wanted them to talk, not- it wasn't his goal to-

Calm down. He needs to calm down.

"I'm not ordering you to do anything, Dogma," he says, lowering his voice to something approximating gentle. "I'm worried about you. This- running off and hiding in closets- it isn't like you." He leans back against the wall, trying for a more relaxed pose than the possibly intimidating posture he'd assumed before, and wets his lips nervously. So far, Dogma hasn't bolted, but he hasn't calmed, either. He just stares at Fives' feet. "If something's wrong, I think it'd be best if you told me, but you don't have to. If you've got it under control- really got it- then we can walk out of here and pretend this never happened. Okay?"

Sweat beads down his neck. That sounded- okay, he thinks. Maybe. He's not sure. Getting less sure by the second.

Dogma stays quiet, but slowly, his face loosens from the tight mask of anger, eyes losing the cold anger they had possessed only moments before. He just looks tired, now. Tired and resigned. "...I've been thinking of talking to Kix," he starts, nearly too low to be heard.

"Kix? Why?"

"I've been-" He works his jaw, cutting himself off roughly. "It's hard to explain. I don't know how to explain. I think I'm- I don't know."

Oh, he doesn't like the sound of that. Nobody wants to hear one of their men start a sentence with I think I'm. Nothing good comes after that.

Sick. Injured. Faulty.

Defective.

Dogma glances up at Fives' face quickly before returning to the ground. Whatever he saw there, it apparently convinces him to keep going. "...There's something wrong with me," he says, deflating with each word. "And I don't understand why or how or what could've possibly caused it. It's- ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Fives wrinkles his nose. Not the description he'd expected. "How?"

"I…" He hesitates, crossing his arms over his chest, as if that could shield him from further embarrassment, before shaking his head and closing his eyes. "Sir, for reasons I can't explain, every time I look at the members of our squad, I feel like- crying."

Oh.

Oh, no. It is correlated. In the worst possible way.

"I'm not sad," he frowns, picking at a bolt on the maintenance droid beside him. "And as far as I know, there isn't any cause for such a thing. But lately, I can't so much as be in the cafeteria with you all without needing to-" He waves a hand limply around the cramped closet. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

This is bad. Fives is pretty sure he knows exactly what's wrong with Dogma, and it's making his voice lodge firmly in his throat instead of coming out of his mouth like it's supposed to. He needs to just- spit it out. Rip off the bacta patch. Get it over with. Tell Dogma the truth, like he'd meant to two weeks ago, like he should've done the moment he'd taken him back on the shuttle after the mission at the old temple. Just tell him.

Tell him.

"...Do you think I need to see Kix?" Dogma asks, voice flat and void of emotion. His fingers have returned to picking at the droid's bolts; grime is beginning to gather under his nails. Fives never realized how clean his hands normally are until now.

He shakes himself out of his stupor. "Why would you need to do that?"

"Emotional instability, sir." A bitter shrug. "These kinds of things should be checked, if not- reported."

His voice is so quiet when he says it.

"You don't need to see Kix."

"Not reporting an unexplained condition would go against-"

"No, Dogma, you don't need to see Kix, because this is my fault."

Dogma's mouth snaps shut.

Wait- not how Fives had wanted to start this conversation. Not at all. Over the two weeks of keeping secrets, he'd imagined a hundred or so ways of how this could go. A group meeting, a few quiet one-on-ones, a fucking comm message- none great, but all better than this. Better than Dogma's wide, searching eyes and downturned lips.

"...I don't understand," he says bluntly. "How could this be your fault, sir?"

Fives shakes his head, cursing his impulsively poor phrasing. "Not what I meant," he mutters. "What I mean is- I think I know what's wrong."

Dogma's expression doesn't change, but his hands do go still on the droid. He's not saying anything- waiting for Fives to explain, he realizes. This happens with him sometimes; it's like nobody taught him that he's allowed to ask follow-up questions for anything, so he just waits and hopes that things will be expanded on further.

Slight nausea builds in his stomach when he realizes that he probably wasn't allowed to ask questions, follow-up or otherwise.

He takes a steadying breath. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you," he starts, deliberately ignoring the way Dogma's eyes widen by another fraction. "I'm sorry. I should've done this a long time ago."

"...Done what?"

"Explained." He slides down against the wall, motioning for Dogma to do the same. Best just take a seat for this. They might be here a while. "How much do you remember from the mission two weeks ago? At the ancient Jedi temple?"

His brow furrows darkly. "The one where I hit my head," he says, in that way that means he doesn't really believe it.

"...Right."

"I don't remember anything. Aside from getting there and waking up."

Fives sighs, tipping his head back against the wall behind him, choosing to look at the ceiling instead of Dogma's face. "Yeah," he says, "that checks out. You'd know if you remembered."

"Sir?"

"Hold on, let me-" He pulls his datapad out of his pack. "Better to just start with this."

As he hands it over, he can't help but feel like he's waiting for something- after a second, he realizes that what he's waiting for is an ah-ha moment. He's waiting for Dogma's eyes to light up in recognition, for him to sit up straight and proclaim that he remembers everything, for him to affirm that it really was like waking up after all. Dogma doesn't do that, though. He just takes the pad and keeps staring.

Fives' chest grows tighter. "Do you know what this is?"

"It appears to be our squad with a cadet, sir."

"Yeah, but- look at where we are."

Dogma squints at it closely. "...The temple?" He zooms in on the photo a few times, the plants, the steps, his own face. "Why did you have a cadet with you at the temple? When did he get there?"

Like ripping off a bacta patch. "Dogma," Fives says slowly, "that's not just a cadet. That's you."

A blank stare.

"...Sorry?"

"I said, that's-"

"I heard what you said," Dogma interrupts, and- shit, he looks annoyed again. How does Fives keep messing this up? "Sir, is this- are you trying to prank me?"

Oh. Oh. Of course he'd- damn.

In his rush to present the holo, he'd forgotten that by the time they'd taken the photo, Fives had already stripped cadet-Dogma of his gear. Without the customized armor, it is far more difficult to tell that this is, in fact, Dogma, especially when you're trying to convince Dogma himself of it.

That's only half of it- due to Dogma's stickler nature and tendency to trust a tad too easily, he's been the target of more than a few pranks in the barracks. Not enough for any sort of harassment report- certainly not enough that Fives had thought Dogma was affected beyond an eyeroll at his brother's immaturity- but maybe he'd judged too soon. Maybe the pranks have worn Dogma down more than Fives thought.

"No, Dogma, I wouldn't joke about something like this," Fives stresses. "I promise I'm telling the truth. That's you in the holo. You never- you never hit your head. I…er, lied to you."

Dogma's still looking at him like he's the one who hit his head, but he doesn't say anything else, which is- good. It means he's listening, at least.

Encouraging enough to continue. Fives clears his throat. "You were right about the fountain," he says. "Those old Jedi from the temple used it as part of some weird sacred ceremony, so it was imbued with Force-power. Real weird one, too. It did, well- that." He points to the holo in Dogma's hands, at the smiling cadet-Dogma seated at his own shoulder. "Would've been Hardcase if you hadn't stopped him."

"That…" He trails off, hiking his knees up a bit further. "If that really happened, why isn't it in the mission reports?"

"Well," Fives coughs, "well."

Well.

This is the actual hard part. The entire reason he's been avoiding this conversation in the first place. Time is up for that- he can't keep turning away just because it makes his stomach turn. And Dogma…

Dogma deserves to know.

"Well what?"

Fives closes his eyes, bracing himself for whatever reaction may come. "Dogma, when you, uh- changed. You didn't just become a cadet. You were you- the you from back then. You- reverted."

It takes a moment for Fives' words to register, but when they do, the effect is immediate. Dogma's body stiffens, locks up at the joints and brings his shoulders nearly to his ears. The hands holding the pad go white-knuckled. His face is the opposite- it smooths over, carefully concealing every emotion from the seconds before under a mask of blankness.

"...What are you saying?" Dogma asks, but it doesn't sound like a question.

"I," Fives starts, then stops, runs a hand through his hair. Starts again. "I'm saying- we know what happened to you, before you came to the 501st. Or at least, I think we do. And I don't think you wanted us to know."

There's no response.

Dogma's still gripping the pad like a lifeline, but he's closed his eyes. His jaw is clenched so tight that Fives can see the flexing muscle, and he pities the ache that'll probably accompany that tomorrow. He looks like shit- Fives can't imagine that he looks any better himself.

The silence is killing him. He'd rather Dogma just spit out whatever it is that he's rolling around in his head than keep him in suspense like this.

Hm. Could that be another irony? Too much of that recently for Fives' taste.

Finally, Dogma opens his eyes, gaze landing back on the pad in his hands without seeming to really see it. "...What does that have to do with the problem?" he asks.

Fives frowns. "What?"

"My problem," Dogma repeats, cocking a brow. "So you know what- what happened to me. Alright. That doesn't explain my reaction to you all."

His voice is far too level. The only hint that he's feeling anything at all had been the slight break in his sentence there, the subtle waver that could easily be passed over were this any other situation. Fives finds that he hates it.

"Sir?"

Right. Yes. Dogma asked a question. Fives has a duty to answer him. Make things right.

He props his forearms against his knees, leaning forward heavily. "You were pretty uneasy the whole time," he says, clasping his hands together in front of him. "You already didn't believe that any of it was real. When we accidentally let it slip that we thought you'd been…" His hands fall apart from their grasp. "We didn't mean to, but you're smart, Dogma. You were smart back then, too. To you, it felt like…"

"Dying."

Fives looks up to see Dogma's hollow eyes. The light from the pad only seems to accentuate how empty his gaze is, trained on his own face in the holo below.

"I don't remember much," he says. His voice is low and thin, like he's high altitude and doesn't have much air. "From before, I mean. But I have…impressions. Feelings tied to no memory." His finger ghosts the screen, trailing nothing. "I don't remember the reconditioning assignment, but I know it felt like dying."

The worst part, Fives thinks, isn't what Dogma says, but how he says it. Like he's just reading something from a mission report.

"You wanted to get matching tattoos with Jesse," Fives blurts out.

Dogma pauses his staring at the holo to look at him. "What?"

"You really liked Jesse's tattoo," he says again, inching a little closer to get a look at the holo too. "And when we told you that you also had a face tattoo in the future, you were so excited. Like a natborn on their birthday."

"Oh," he says faintly. As if on instinct, his fingers come to rest on the edge of his tattoo. "That's- good."

Fives nods, then points to Hardcase behind Dogma and himself in the holo. "Hardcase was having so much fun teasing you, he was practically a tubie for the rest of the mission. See, even here- he's doing tooka ears on us." He feels a smile grow on his own face. "He annoyed the hell out of you, but he got you to laugh. Helped a lot to keep you calm."

Dogma frowns, but he doesn't look quite as- detached. "I interrupted the mission," he mutters.

"Nah," Fives says easily. "Hardcase started it. Besides, nobody was about to fault you for being freaked out when you were that young."

At that, Dogma actually snorts a laugh- it's dry, and quiet, but it's there.

"And, hey," Fives continues, "it was odd, but by the end, everyone managed to have a little fun. Even you."

"I thought you said I was scared."

"You were. But you also had fun. It's part of why you didn't-"

Didn't want to go.

Fives swallows roughly. He'd gotten carried away, so caught up in recounting the moment of respite that he forgot the root of the issue. The whole reason they're even talking about this in the first place.

Two weeks ago, when he'd looked into Dogma's young eyes and lied to him, told him that everything would be okay, he'd had the thought that none of this was fair. Now, as he sits across from him once more, he can't help but feel an echo of the same sentiment.

None of this is fair. Dogma hadn't wanted to go, but he needed to, and now he isn't even allowed to forget. His body decided to remember what his mind could not, and hung on to the fear and hurt from those last few moments before drinking the water.

Force, it's all just so- so-

"Sir?"

Dogma's looking at him again. Worried. He's the worried one now.

Fives takes a deep breath, holding it in his chest for a few heartbeats before letting it out. Spiraling doesn't help anyone. It especially doesn't help when you're the squad leader and you're trying to keep everyone else calm. Or, in this case, one person.

"Sorry," Fives says, "sorry, just- you were a good kid."

"Oh."

He brings the holo to his chest, perhaps unconsciously, and holds it there in a loose grasp. His eyes have begun to blink again- not so much that he looks on the verge of tears, but they are going sort of fast.

"You…alright?"

"Yeah," Dogma says, softly, not hollow like before, but just- quiet. "I think I need to- get out of this closet."

"Oh- uh, yeah, 'course-" Fives scrambles to stand, knocking his knee against the broom next to him in his efforts to be quick, and presses himself against the wall to give Dogma room to walk out from behind the droid.

He does so slowly- unfolding himself limb by limb, using the droid as leverage while his other hand holds Fives' datapad. Dogma's gaze tells him that he's still sort of lost in thought, but it doesn't seem to be in a bad way this time. That's- good. That and getting out of this fucking closet.

When Dogma reaches the door, he hesitates, hand hovering by the handle for a moment before he suddenly turns around. "Here," he says, pressing the pad back into Fives' hands.

"Thanks. I can, uh- if you want a copy, I can send one over."

The corners of Dogma's eyes crinkle- is he smiling? His mouth is definitely not smiling, but Fives knows an eye smile when he sees one. "Sure," he says, "if that's alright."

"More than alright. We took it for you, after all."

"Really?"

Fives nods. "Tup's idea," he explains. "So that you'd…remember." So that we'd remember, he doesn't say.

Dogma pauses again. He looks…nervous.

"You said-" He clears his throat, scratching at his neck quickly before grabbing the door handle. "You said that you'd see me later." He's not looking at Fives, which is probably good, considering he thinks he might've just lost the air in his lungs for a second. "I can't remember anything else, but I remember that."

Fives holds his breath.

"I'm- glad to hear it," he says. "Maybe you'll remember more, now that you know. Like Hardcase carrying you over his shoulder." He snickers to himself, thinking back to how the kid had shouted and writhed but had smiled more than he ever had in the present. "Or Jesse acting all mature. Or Tup- actually, Tup was pretty much the same with you."

Dogma smiles tightly, just a flicker of the corner of his mouth. "Maybe," he says. "I, um- I think I'm going to talk with Tup now, actually. This…explains a lot."

"Oh. Yeah, you- you should. He's been worried about you."

"Yeah." One more pause. "It's- good to be back. Fives."

Then he opens the door, and Fives watches him go. He doesn't try to follow him, not this time. Wouldn't be necessary anyways- Fives already knows where he's going. Plus, based on what Dogma had said, he's sure he's going to be seeing all of them later tonight, and he's even more sure that the company will be equipped with a large portion of shaking heads and elbows gunning for his ribs. He probably messed this up a lot. But, well. It's over now.

"Dogma!" he shouts down the hallway, before his form can disappear completely. "See you later!"

Dogma waves. He thinks, if he really squints, that he can see a smile on his face.