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The dark waves crashed against the stilts of the Tipoca City platforms in a vicious, neverending dance and Fox was mesmerized by it. The ocean had never looked particularly inviting, with Kamino being a planet of perpetual storms. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the push and pull of swirling darkness from his dizzying height hundreds of meters above them. The torrential rain plastered his hair to his skull and soaked through his fatigues and the bacta patch on his face, but he barely felt it.
He didn't go on the platforms that much. Some of the other cadets liked to feel the fresh air, even if it was pissing rain like it was now. Fox never saw the point. He wasn't there for fresh air. He wasn't sure what he was there for. After getting cleared from medical his feet had taken him outside and he’d been there ever since, looking into the inky darkness. He didn't even know how long he had been standing on the edge of the platform for. Fox flexed his hands, still somehow feeling the sticky sensation of blood between his fingers.
“What are you doing out here, cadet?” Fox hadn't heard Alpha-17 approach; the wind was too strong, and Alpha could move silently if he wanted to. It was only a matter of time before someone had found him. Of course it was Alpha. Fox didn't turn around and he didn't know how to respond. What was he doing out here? Freezing his shebs off in the rain wasn't a particular pastime of his. He flexed his fingers again and breathed out shakily, teasing the toe of his boot over the lip of the platform. It had always been stupid that there were no guardrails on these particular landing platforms. The slick surface was so easy to just… slip off of.
“It's so easy to slip, don't you think, Alpha?” he asked out loud, though his voice felt far away. He pushed back the thoughts of dark brown eyes going horribly blank. He pushed back the sound of his own voice cracking on a scream. He pushed back the futility of help never coming fast enough. Fox grit his teeth and continued to stare at the blackened water until it made him dizzy. He wasn't even sure Alpha had heard him. But at this point he knew Alpha would be faster than him. Whatever unformed plan that had been swimming in his head, Alpha would be faster and he just had to accept that.
“It is,” Alpha-17 agreed after an eternity of silence. “Will you step back from the platform?” His voice was quiet and controlled and it set Fox's teeth on edge. Why ask when he could just order him to? “You're not in trouble, just step back for me. We can talk, just you and me, Fox.”
Fox turned towards him at the sound of his name. His name. From Alpha himself. 1413 hadn't even gotten his yet. ‘Any day now’ he'd kriffing say. And yet here they were, standing over his ghost on the edge of the swirling vortex below them. Alpha-17 was still in his armor aside from his helmet and the haunted look on his mentor's face was almost enough for Fox to run to him. He didn't step back from the edge.
“What's it matter if I jump? I could get unlucky in training tomorrow like 1413. Or it could be Wolffe, or Kote next. What makes saving me here matter if I catch a stray bolt to the chest or slip and break my neck in a sim?" The question burst out of Fox like an incendiary grenade, bright and explosive and angry. His breath hitched and he shuddered, overwhelmed and agitated with adrenaline. A strong wind battered them and Tipoca City swayed and creaked, the rain shifting to a sideways slant. Fox stumbled, bracing against the gust and Alpha's hand twitched, preparing to grab for him if Fox really did slip. That reflexive motion made an odd, incredulous laugh bubble up in Fox's throat, choking him.
“You know as well as I do that 1413's wounds were fatal, Fox. You did all that you could. He couldn't be saved,” Alpha said, his voice closer to a shout above the wind. “I can still kriffing save you. Even if I have to dive in after you.”
Fox stared at him with wide eyes, simultaneously bewildered and blazing with white-hot rage. Because the height of the fall from this platform was certainly fatal, even for a clone like Alpha-17. It was a ridiculous sentiment. It was one he couldn't bear the thought of. He never hated his mentor more than he did in that moment.
“Don't fucking say that!” Fox spat, crossing the distance between them, too angry to realize his mistake. He hadn't taken more than a single step before Alpha's hand whipped out and snatched his wrist and he was being swung bodily around, his arm twisted behind him painfully. Fox snarled against the pain and struggled, breaking the hold by twisting with it until his shoulder nearly popped out of its socket. But this wasn't a training spar, and being a fully mature clone, Alpha-17 was still much bigger and stronger and faster than him.
The moment Fox broke free Alpha kicked his legs out from under him and he crumpled, his head banging painfully on the durasteel platform. Fox tasted blood and his ears were ringing, yet he still fought desperately to keep his hands free from Alpha's grapple. He felt his nails successfully rake a bloody line down Alpha's cheek, but it was over the moment Alpha got him to the ground. Alpha hooked his legs around him and flipped their positions and Fox ended up with Alpha's armored bicep pressing hard into his throat. He struggled futilely to pry him off, his fingers skimming uselessly over wet plastoid. His legs flailed frantically between them, unable to find purchase on the slippery durasteel. Alpha shook him harshly and Fox's head swam.
“Gev!" Alpha-17's command tone had returned in full force and against his will Fox stilled. He breathed raggedly through his nose, his heartbeat rabbiting in his ears. He stubbornly pushed against the hold again but Alpha just tightened his chokehold until Fox's vision spotted. “I'll bring you back inside unconscious, but I'll bring you back all the same, vod'ika,” Alpha warned. Fox cursed at him but all that came out of his mouth was a choked gurgle. Not worth it, was what he wanted to say.
“I'm not saying it's fair. I'm not saying it won't happen again. We don't get that luxury. We're going to lose our vod'e. Over and over. And we will endure it,” Alpha spoke quietly next to Fox's ear and all Fox could do was listen and rage. “We can't always protect each other from war, vod'ika. We have been bred to die for it. You cannot let that consume you.”
Fox struggled one final time, choking hard for air, fingers digging into the creases of Alpha's armor. The rain continued its downpour. The ocean continued its tumultuous rhythm. He had nothing left to give. Fox huffed, adrenaline crashing and the fight bleeding out of him, leaving him feeling hollow. He stared blankly out at the stormy darkness of the distant Kaminoan horizon. Alpha's hold slackened, sensing his unspoken give. Fox rolled over onto his elbows and coughed until his head throbbed, spitting blood onto the shiny durasteel. He watched as the rain thinned and spread it until there was nothing left.
“1413 didn't make it to the war, sir,” he croaked, voice hoarse and bruised. He peered over at Alpha, still on the ground with him and watching him with dark eyes.
“No, and you need to prepare to lose more,” he said, voice grave and uncomforting. “Your squad needs you to fight for them. Focus on who you can save, not who you couldn't. I will not allow you to give up, Fox. It matters that you live because I say it does. I never want to see you out here again.” Alpha got to his feet slowly and held out his hand. Fox stared at it, wanting to slap it away, but too exhausted to try.
Alpha, having waited for him long enough, reached down and grabbed him by his arm and wrenched him up. Fox gasped at the sharp, blinding pain from his injured shoulder. He wobbled on his feet, eyeing Alpha warily. Alpha tugged at him like he was trying to shake some sense into him. “You feel this way again and you come to me. Not your batch, not the other trainers, not the medics. Me. I know you're smart enough to understand why.”
Sure, Fox understood why. He knew what it meant to ask too many questions on their purpose. But it didn't matter, since he was never going to let Alpha see him like this again. His mistake was being indecisive, being obvious. It was clear to him now that whatever his thoughts were, about himself, his brothers, their purpose in the galaxy, he needed to keep them to himself. He had to lock that osik away. Endure, is what Alpha had said. Fox’s inhale rattled his chest and he coughed.
“Yes sir,” he lied. Alpha glared at him like he didn't believe him, and maybe Fox was too dizzy to lie convincingly. He'd have to get better at that. Eventually the ARC relented and sighed, tilting his head towards the artificial light of the barracks behind them.
“C'mon cadet, let's get out of the karking rain.” Alpha turned on his heel and started walking, only turning back once to make sure Fox was following him. Fox trailed him, feeling numb and jittery at the same time. “Good job breaking out of that hold, but if you dislocate your shoulder every time you do it then it's not going to be as effective,” Alpha said as he walked, not sparing Fox a glance. Fox scowled at his back. Of course he was finding time to lecture him on his form.
The door to the barracks entryway hissed open and Fox squinted at the blinding white light, his eyes too accustomed to the darkness outside. He was suddenly very aware of his hair dripping cold water onto the pristine floor. Alpha paid it no mind and led Fox further inside. Fox followed obediently, not really surprised when they didn't turn down the hallway that led to the command class barracks and instead continued further into the facility. It was too late in this sector for many clones to be awake, their sleep cycle had started a few hours ago. He could tell that Alpha was looking out for anyone who might find it suspicious that Fox was out past curfew, soaked to the bone and bleeding. Fox realized where they were going right as Alpha punched in the code to the ARC quarters. Alpha-17 walked right through the door but Fox hesitated at the threshold. Alpha sighed, reached back and grabbed a fistful of Fox's fatigues and yanked him inside.
“Sit,” Alpha instructed, pointing to a tiny table and chair as Fox stumbled to a stop. The ARC quarters had slightly better amenities than the infantry barracks, but they still all bunked together. No one else was currently in the modest staging room. They were probably asleep. There were lockers that held the Alpha-class troopers’ gear and armor as well as several benches, and a small sink and cupboard. Fox sat in the chair Alpha directed him to, dripping water on the plastoid seat and the white shiny floor. There were abandoned hands of sabacc on the small table, discarded carelessly. Fox let his vision blur and the cards morphed into a formless gray blob. He was only really aware of the sound of Alpha rummaging around in a locker.
Fox flinched when Alpha dropped to a crouch in front of him. He hadn't realized how deeply he'd spaced-out. Alpha snapped his now gloveless fingers twice in front of his face.
“You concussed?” he asked, expression serious. Fox shrugged his response, his shoulder twinging in protest. “Use your words, cadet.”
“Don't think so, sir,” he mumbled. Alpha hummed disbelievingly and grabbed his face, looking him over. Fox followed his inspection with his eyes but kept quiet. Alpha's thumb pulled at his cheek as he looked closely at Fox's pupils. The shrapnel wound under the bacta patch stung sharply at the pressure of Alpha's grip.
Fox nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a door hissing open next to them. Alpha merely flicked his gaze sideways, expression calm. An ARC trooper in red fatigues had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at them, his expression unreadable. “77,” Alpha greeted flatly. He turned back to Fox, ordering him quietly to follow his finger with just his eyes as he moved it back and forth. Fordo's gaze jumped quickly between Fox's half-drowned, bloody appearance and the two thin slices that Fox had scraped into Alpha's cheek and then settled heavily between them.
From his peripheral Fordo made a handsign at Alpha, but Fox couldn't tell what word it was supposed to be. Alpha exhaled through his nose in annoyance and Fox saw him respond with his other hand, almost out of sight at his hip. The only sign he thought he recognized was ‘go’. The CC class was still being taught handsign for use in combat, so the speed that Alpha-17 and Fordo were using it to communicate was too fast for Fox's possibly concussed brain to process.
Fordo asked a question using both hands, which made Alpha stop, turn, and look at him for a long moment. Alpha signed ‘no’ very deliberately. Fordo blinked, then nodded and left the room just as silently as he had come in.
Alpha's jaw was clenched and he exhaled slowly again. Fox wanted to ask what they had been talking about, but he knew Alpha wouldn't tell him. They had definitely been talking about him, but Fox didn't know Fordo well enough to tell if the other ARC was angry at Alpha for bringing him into their quarters past curfew. Alpha didn't seem concerned, just annoyed, which was somewhere close to baseline for him.
Alpha stood up and tilted Fox's head down so he could check the spot where he'd smacked it on the platform. The motion made Fox's bruised trachea throb with dull pain. Fox felt Alpha's fingers card through his hair clinically, searching for bruising or blood. Fox pulled away sharply when Alpha found a sensitive spot.
“Stay still,” Alpha chided.
“I should go back to the barracks,” Fox argued weakly.
“You'll go back when I let you go back.” Alpha pulled a vial of bacta spray from his kit and Fox felt a numbing coolness spread across his skull. He breathed through his nose, trying and failing to calm the trembling that had started to bubble up under his skin.
“Show me the range of motion you have with that shoulder,” Alpha instructed, stepping a few paces back. Fox did as commanded and raised his arm halfway up, blinking past the sharp, tearing feeling in his shoulder blade and socket. He kept his breath steady as he rotated his arm back and forth and raised it above his head. He felt nauseous, but at least the burning pain was better than the emotional numbness he'd been feeling a moment ago.
“Next time do it without going past the point when it hurts,” Alpha scolded. “You're going to medical tomorrow. You'll tell them it was a training accident. You'll tell them nothing else.” Fox lowered his arm stiltedly with a scowl, but did not argue with him. Even though he’d just been to medical.
“Yes sir,” he agreed.
“Dry yourself off,” Alpha said, handing him a towel. Fox didn't think a single towel would really help much, but he kept that to himself and patted at his face. He tongued at the cut in his cheek from when Alpha had knocked him to the ground. It still stung and his mouth tasted sharp and coppery. At least he hadn't bitten his tongue. He rubbed the towel over his wet curls, trying not to flinch at the tender spot on the back while drying his head as quickly as possible.
Alpha-17 took the seat on the other side of the small table and gathered up the sabacc cards, putting the deck away. The door swished open across from them again and both Fox and Alpha looked up in unison. Fordo walked up to them, face impassive, and dropped a bundle of fresh fatigues on the table and signed ‘take’. Fordo turned sharply to Fox and his intense expression made Fox avert his eyes.
“Thanks, Fordo,” Alpha said quietly. Fordo grimaced at him, the strongest expression he'd made yet, and shook his head. He double-tapped the pile of clothes with two fingers and then left them to their continued tense silence.
“You can change in the fresher,” Alpha said finally, tilting his head towards the door next to them, his voice tired. Fox mumbled an affirmative and bundled the clothes in his arms and brushed past Alpha into the refresher, the door whooshing shut behind him.
It was too bright and too quiet in the empty room and Fox dedicated all of his focus to the mechanical motions of peeling off his wet fatigues. He left them in a soggy pile and pulled on the new set. They were definitely too large – made for full-grown Alpha-class troopers, but they were not as visibly ill-fitting as they could be as long as he tucked them in right. He focused on not letting any stray thoughts push into his head, preferring the buzzing white-noise that was occupying his mind. Fox avoided the mirror. He hastily shoved the pile of wet fatigues into the laundry chute; it went to a communal bin shared by several barracks and would be divided by size and sent back out at some point. He just wanted them out of his sight.
Fox escaped from the refresher, his heart pounding in his chest for no reason. He pointedly ignored Alpha and sat back down across from him at the table, his knee bouncing restlessly. He'd just have to sit in silence and then, eventually, Alpha would let him leave. He couldn't keep him here forever. Alpha slid something across the table at him. Fox scowled at the ration bar packed in its nice little white wrapper.
“This is overkill,” he said, irritated.
“I don't care.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“Still don't care. Eat it.”
Fox swiped the ration bar with too much aggression and barely peeled the wrapper off before he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. It was chewy and earthy, unlike some of the other rations they were given at the commissary, but it was as dry as the desert systems he'd seen in flashtraining. He chewed on it with contempt as Alpha watched him passively.
Fox breathed heavily through his nose, chest heaving. He wanted Alpha to say something. To explain why he was holding him hostage in the ARC quarters even though he'd already looked over his injuries. He should have already sent him on his way, yet Alpha made no move to do any such thing. He just waited. It was tearing his composure to shreds.
Fox tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. It hurt. His breath was coming more shaky, more erratic with each inhale. He coughed past the ration bar, a shiver riding up his spine and making its home under his skin. He ducked his head down just as the first tear slipped down his cheek. There was something wholly humiliating about crying with his mouth full, but Fox couldn't stop the sob building to capacity in his chest. He chewed past his choppy breaths, too overwhelmed to try and hide it anymore and trying not to choke to death on a kriffing ration bar of all things. His tears were warm and unwelcome on his chilled skin and he scrubbed at them roughly with the back of his hands. His breath caught over and over until he was on the verge of hyperventilation.
He forced himself to swallow the rest of the ration bar and it settled heavily in his stomach. He gasped, able to breathe without obstruction but still feeling a crushing tightness in his chest. He cursed and leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands, trying to will his body back into submission.
Fox wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, slowly and painfully coming down from panic and grief. He caught a full breath and then another and he held it until his lungs burned before releasing it through his teeth. His body was wracked with a persistent trembling that he couldn't control from the dump of cortisol and adrenaline to his nervous system. He didn't know if Alpha was watching the whole ordeal and he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to leave. Fox breathed deeply a few more times before he leaned forward again, dragging his hands down his face. His chest ached. He sniffed and slumped back in his chair, finally looking back at Alpha with narrowed eyes and a grimace, too tired to be truly angry.
“Are you satisfied now?” he asked, voice gravelly. Because surely, that was what Alpha-17 had been waiting for this entire time. Alpha's jaw clenched.
“I need to know you can handle this,” he said cautiously. Fox huffed a humorless laugh.
“And if I can't?” he challenged. Alpha didn't respond. He didn't need to. They both knew what would happen if Fox couldn't keep it together. They'd been over this already. Fox slumped further into his chair, choosing to break eye contact and stare at the opposite wall. He didn't want to have this conversation.
“If you can't handle it then you will be putting your squad at risk,” Alpha continued, voice hard and assertive. Fox glanced back at him sharply, eyes narrow and furious at the implication.
“Stop using them to make your point,” he ground out. He wasn't oblivious to Alpha's emotional manipulation. He could recognize his mentor's words as being objectively correct, but they were wielded with a sharpened point and he was sick of being stabbed with it. He didn't appreciate his brothers being used as a leash to keep him at heel. It only made him want to lash out in retaliation.
“It's the only thing that will get through to you,” Alpha countered harshly, leaning forward and making the chair screech against the floor. “If Wolffe or Kote is pinned during the next live-fire exercise will you freeze? If I have you take point, will you hesitate to send your squad into battle? Your fear is a liability for command, Fox. I can't let you go back until I know you will make the decisions you need to make. You need to accept that at any point in your command you will inevitably be sending your brothers to their deaths.”
Fox stared stubbornly at the wall, arms crossed protectively over his chest. He focused on breathing slowly and calmly as he digested Alpha-17's words. It was no use getting angry anymore. This was the point in Alpha's intervention where he had to teach him a lesson and Fox had no choice but to listen. But he didn't want to lie to Alpha, and if he blindly accepted those words then that's exactly what he would be doing.
“I'll die for them, sir,” he finally said, voice flat, “but I don't think they should die for me.”
“You're not in a position to make that call,” Alpha told him unhelpfully. Fox glowered and stayed silent for a while after that, still refusing to look directly at him. He rubbed at his neck, wondering if there was visible bruising to accompany the ache. He felt off-kilter, like he'd never quite regained his balance from when he had stumbled at the edge of the platform.
Fox felt Alpha's gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. He didn't know what Alpha was thinking, but he could tell he wasn't happy. Fox was beginning to think it would have been better to have just been knocked unconscious after all. Then he could have avoided this circular stalemate of a conversation. Maybe he should have just jumped.
Alpha sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair with a thump. From his peripheral, Fox saw him pinch the bridge of his nose. Bad sign.
“You're not making it easy for me to trust you here, vod'ika,” he grumbled.
“Sorry, sir,” Fox said automatically, rote. Alpha blew out a curse, visibly frustrated. Fox fidgeted with the too-long sleeve of his borrowed fatigues, wringing it between his fingers. “I don't know what more you want me to say,” he admitted, voice barely a whisper.
“Look at me,” Alpha ordered. Fox obeyed, but his gaze slid off Alpha's face and landed somewhere above his shoulder. “At me, not just in my general direction, Fox,” Alpha corrected tersely. Fox grit his teeth and forced himself to make eye contact, though it felt like it was burning him from the inside out. “Just tell me you'll fight for them. You're no use dead, vod'ika. You want to protect them? Then live long enough to see it through,” Alpha insisted, ripping through Fox's battered defenses like an artillery round. Fox swallowed painfully past the lump of shame in his throat, trying desperately to keep his breath steady. Alpha waited for him, giving him time to compose himself. Fox hated that the instructor that had once thrown him halfway across the room during a spar was now treating him so carefully. He hated that Alpha was right.
“Will it always feel like this?” Fox asked. He didn't want the answer. But he asked anyway.
“No. You will start to get used to it,” Alpha said, blunt words softened by his hushed tone.
“I don't think I want that either.”
“You don't get to choose.”
“I know.”
Something shifted minutely in Alpha's expression and he nodded a few times, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, brow furrowed. Fox kept his attention locked on Alpha, trying to read the microexpressions on the ARC’s face to figure out if he’d finally said the right thing. Alpha opened his eyes, but his focus was far away.
“Okay,” he said after a few silent moments, eyes flicking back to meet Fox's, cool and calm. “You'll have to prove it to me, vod'ika, but okay.”
Relief and shame pulled sharply at Fox's heart in opposite directions and all he could manage was a small nod. It was a concession and a challenge. Alpha was letting him go for now, but he was going to be watching his every step, and Fox was going to have to earn back his trust.
Alpha braced his palms on the table and stood, gesturing to the door with a sharp tilt of his chin. “C'mon, the rest of the ARCs aren't as friendly as Fordo,” he said, deadpan. Fox was too tired to tell if he was joking. He followed Alpha out of the ARC quarters quietly, the journey back only marginally less tense than before. Fox felt the suffocating tug of exhaustion pulling at him, weighing down his footfalls. They stopped a few paces shy of the command class barracks and Alpha turned back to him.
“How'd you open the door?” he asked. Fox blinked, confused at the sudden line of questioning. The cool curiosity on Alpha's face was certainly a facade. He was fishing for the security weakness that led to this problem being possible in the first place. There wasn't a point in lying to him, Alpha would figure it out himself if he wanted to.
“The side casing can be pried open to access the control panel, sir. The lock is just a numerical code, so it can be sliced with brute force. It only took two minutes,” he said, watching the mask slip off Alpha's face in real-time until only grim annoyance was left.
“You shouldn't slice into any of the systems here. You're not the only one that will get in trouble,” Alpha warned.
“With all due respect, sir, if you're going to teach it to us then don't be surprised when we use it,” Fox argued, pushing his luck because his mouth was faster than his brain. Alpha glowered flatly at him, unamused with Fox's backtalk.
“You left it open,” Alpha informed him bluntly, and at Fox's confused furrow, he clarified: “the side casing, you left it open. That's how I found you.”
Fox felt a jittery chill roll up his spine. So Alpha already knew how he'd gotten outside and just wanted him to admit it. It was a simple oversight, and Fox hadn't been particularly careful about not leaving a trace. It wasn't important at the time. This night might have gone differently if he'd been more careful. He didn't know what to say in response. He had a feeling ‘I'll do better next time sir’ wouldn't go over too well at this point.
“Medical. First thing. You're excused from the morning exercise,” Alpha ordered curtly, taking pity on his indecisive silence. Fox's face scrunched in annoyance. He'd forgotten about that.
“Yes sir,” he agreed unenthusiastically.
“Get some rest, Fox,” Alpha said, dismissing him. The ARC leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, perfectly at ease. Fox looked between the barracks door and Alpha, coming to an uncomfortable realization.
“Sir, you're not… standing guard, are you?” he asked, mortified.
“What I do with my time isn't up to you,” Alpha retorted, not even giving him the courtesy of looking at him. “Go, before I demerit you.” It was an empty threat at this point but Fox realized he didn't want to stay and look at Alpha any longer either. He turned without a proper salute and opened the barracks door. He stopped, hand fisted on the side of the panel, blocking the sensor, and paused at the threshold. Maybe he was supposed to say something. A reassurance, perhaps. Maybe he was supposed to say thank you. All the words died on his tongue. He didn't spare Alpha another glance. The door slid shut behind him.
The barracks were dead silent, the lights on low for their sleep cycle, pods closed. He passed by the lines of his classmates' bunks and stopped when he reached his row, turning his head slowly towards the faint glow of the open pod further in. Kote sat cross-legged on his cot, dark eyes trained on him. Fox felt his stomach plummet but he kept his expression inscrutable.
“Where were you?” Kote asked, voice just barely above a whisper. Somehow Kote could make a question sound like an accusation and Fox was far too tired to put up with it.
“Go to sleep,” he hissed, stalking past Kote to his own pod. He tapped the switch with an angry jab and the pod slid open with a whir. He heard Kote get off his cot and Fox thought he might throttle him for it. Karking busybody.
“Not before you tell me where you've been for the last two hours,” Kote insisted, louder this time.
“Medical. Mind your business,” Fox spat.
“You are my business, vod. And you weren't at Medical, I checked. They said you left hours ago,” Kote said testily. Fox bristled, feeling flighty and trapped. He felt the light brush of Kote's hand on his shoulder and his composure snapped clean through. Fox whirled around and shoved Kote up against the podbay, pinning him with his arm.
Kote glared at him, eyes bright and challenging. If neither of them let up, this was going to turn into a fight, and then they'd be in real trouble. Fox would undoubtedly lose; he was exhausted and injured, and Kote had been building up righteous indignation for probably the better part of an hour. But Fox would give him a fight, and he wouldn't go down easy.
“You can't just–” Kote's shoulder bumped the switch to the pod next to him and it slid open. It wasn't Wolffe's pod, though. It was empty. They both froze. The fight fizzled and died between them, nothing but burnt embers and splintered trust. Fox tore his gaze away from the empty cot first, numb to the feeling of loss after swimming in it for hours. Kote's face had gone scarily blank. As mad as Fox was at him for pushing him when he was already well past his breaking point, he despised that look on his brother's face even more. He sighed through his nose and eased off, taking a step back. That wasn't enough to snap Kote out of his stupor, so Fox reached behind him and closed the pod, leaning heavily against the switch until it was flush with the rest of the pod bay, out of sight.
“Fox–”
“I don't want to talk about it,” Fox cut him off, digging deep to keep the edge out of his voice. Alpha had whittled down his patience to a dull nub, but he wasn't the only one hurting. He observed the way Kote's expression transformed from blank shock to open vulnerability to pinched grief in the span of several seconds. He felt the mounting pressure that Alpha had dismantled by force start to build back up inside his chest. They needed him. He had to handle it. He had to be there for them. His brothers were his greatest weakness and he was going to get them killed if he didn't distance himself emotionally, just like Alpha said. He felt a spike of bitter resignation in his gut, acidic and nauseating. It didn't matter what he wanted or what he could or couldn't handle. He had to. The longer he looked at Kote the more that truth calcified in his heart. Alpha's words were a knell ringing in his ears. You're no use dead.
Fox roughly grasped the back of Kote's head and knocked their foreheads together, hard enough to hurt, but reassuring all the same. He heard a click in Kote's throat as he swallowed thickly. “Go to sleep,” he ordered, voice low. Kote shook his head slowly, despairing. “Now, Kote.” He pulled back and Kote was glaring at the ground, grinding his teeth.
“We're going to talk about this,” Kote promised.
No, we won't, Fox thought grimly. He never wanted to talk about any of this again, and he would avoid it with all of the stubbornness that couldn't be bred out of him. Kote was stubborn too, but he would give up on it eventually. Fox could win a war of patience with the right stakes. He had to protect himself somehow, and closing himself off felt like the only way forward.
“Do what you want. I'm going to sleep,” Fox muttered, moving back towards his pod. If Kote wanted to stay up and be angry then he could be angry at an empty room. He heard Kote scoff softly, but his brother didn't make any further move to stop him.
Fox climbed into his pod above Wolffe's, still mercifully closed through their near-fight. He didn't want to imagine the headache he'd have if both of them had stayed up to confront him. There already was one burrowing into his skull, sharp and vicious and threatening to upend his stomach. He didn't want to deal with any more confrontations tonight. He turned away from where Kote was standing in angry vigil and jabbed the inside switch with his elbow to seal himself in.
The darkness was disquieting. Fox laid on his back, staring up at the morphing phosphene shadows where he could almost see the violent, tempestuous black ocean waves and feel the cold rain on his skin. The numbness had never fully gone away, it had only been temporarily drowned by rage. It spread through his limbs, tingling and unpleasant. Fox flexed his fingers, expecting to still feel the wet sticky sensation of blood that had stained his senses earlier. But he only brushed against the too-long sleeve of his borrowed fatigues with his palms.
He didn't allow himself to think. If he started to think he wouldn't stop and that was how he ended up on the platform. He didn't think about Kote, or Alpha, or 1413. Exhaustion was helping, pulling at his weary limbs and consciousness. But being still had never been a strong suit of his, especially if he was agitated. Fox rubbed at his eyes and breathed in deeply and released it with a long exhale. He just needed to stay calm and his fatigue would do the rest.
Fox let his mind drift, becoming unmoored and separated from his body until all that was left was numb sensation. He felt the phantom touch of water lap at his fingertips. His body was heavy, and tired, and he didn't have the strength to tread water as it rose and flooded around him. A distant thought cut through the wind. It's just sleep.
He let himself sink.