The Dawn Before the Storm

Fox sighed, stepping into his cold and empty office, caf in hand. Many people thought that being the Marshall Commander of Coruscant gave him some kind of advantage, some degree of power. But in reality, all Fox got was his own office and the isolation that was associated. Whenever the captains and lieutenants got together to have drinks, decompress, or even just eat lunch together, Fox had to watch them from afar, enviously. As the Marshall Commander, it was expected that he maintain his professionalism and not fraternize. It was also not right to burden the younger officers with his presence, because he knew it only set them on edge.

But there were times when all Fox wished for was the brotherhood and camaraderie that the others shared, an easy pat on the back, a hug after a hard day, or just someone to talk to. Fox knew that his longing was a weakness: the Marshall Commander was supposed to need no one, he was the one his brothers in the Guard looked up to and depended on. Besides, Fox knew that if he indulged in his fantasy of connection, he wouldn't be able to shield his brothers from the "disciplinary actions" of the senators and the Chancellor. The Chancellor, despite his honeyed words and grandfatherly appearance, had an atrocious habit of lashing out physically against the clones if they made a mistake or whom he deemed unprofessional, and he often would take his anger out on Fox. There were also a lot of blank spots in Fox's memory when he was supposedly in a meeting with the Chancellor, so Fox knew that something was off about the most powerful man in the Republic. Fox did his best to keep his younger brothers away from the chancellor but every failure, every hurt brother, every decommissioned shiny was like a blow to his heart, he didn't know how much longer he could keep doing this.

Despite all he did to try and keep them safe, Fox often heard some of the Guard and even troopers from other battalions insulted him and jeered at his rules. Fox was beginning to wonder whether or not it was worth it anymore; to protect the corrupt senate that spewed false lies and slander against him and his brothers, to try and save ungrateful troopers who didn't know of his and the guard's struggles.  But still, Fox got up every morning and worked his shebs off, because he couldn't bear to see any more brothers suffer than he could help, and this miserable war had to end at some point and maybe then, he could finally just die and let someone else take over his insufferable job.

Fox grimaced, expelling these depressing thoughts as he finished forging the last signature on the Chancellor's flimsiwork. That was another thing, the Chancellor never did his own flimsiwork, instead passing the majority over to Fox himself. This meant that Fox stayed awake passed his shift most nights, and tonight, Fox had had to stay up late after a double shift, meaning he would only get a few hours of sleep before his next patrol. 

Finally, legs shaking slightly from exhaustion, Fox stood up, gathering the flimsiwork in his hands before placing his bucket back over his head. Mindlessly, Fox shuffled out of his small personal office, letting out a large yawn. He just had to deliver the flimsiwork before he could sleep, he could do this. 

Striding down the hallway, Fox was almost to the Chancellor's office when he heard the crackle of a voice through his bucket's internal comm. "Fox! What are you still doing here? I thought you would have already been asleep after your double shift," called Commander Thorn judgmentally.

Fox turned so minisculely that a senator wouldn't have noticed, but he knew Thorn would pick up on the movement,  so he pinned his brother with a judgmental look from where he was stationed a few feet away down the hallway.  

Thorn was not fazed by the glare. and Fox sighed. Fox knew that Thorn was just concerned and trying to look after him, Thorn was his best friend for force sake, but Fox really wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. Mustering up some fake cheer, Fox exclaimed over the comms, "That's always the plan, Thorn, but you know the Chancellor, he likes his forged flimsiwork done as soon as possible, and time got away from me. Thanks for asking, though. Have a good shift, I'll see you tomorrow." Fox twitched his hand at Thorn in acknowledgment before swiftly moving to deposit the flimsiwork.  'No I wasn't fleeing Thorn', Fox would say later. After depositing the flimsiwork, Fox all but fled to his office once again and to the bunk that had been calling him for days, though his stomach churned at the thought of being back in the senate in less than twelve hours.