Chapter Text
Commander Fox genuinely wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last slept. This, honestly, was the least of his problems at the moment. Besides, it’s not like sleep deprivation was an uncommon affliction; practically every member of the Guard was suffering from it. Fox sighed as he switched off the datapad in his hand and placed it back onto the ever-growing pile of flimsiwork that had accumulated on his desk. The words had grown too blurry for him to make any further headway on it until he’d gotten some caf and maybe a fifteen minute nap if he was lucky. Fox was rarely lucky.
He often wondered if his brothers on the frontlines had to deal with the same amount of flimsiwork that plagued his life. He doubted it, he was fairly sure that 50% of the datapads on his desk should have been in the offices of various senators. Yet another 20% were most definitely the Chancellor’s, but there was nothing he could really do about that. What was he supposed to do, tell the leader of the entire Galactic Republic ‘no’? No, most definitely not. Fox would simply have to endure: he unfortunately seemed to be rather good at that. He always had been. What an odd group his batch must make: Cody - force sensitive, unmatched in hand to hand combat and a brilliant marksman, Wolffe - a talented pilot with a natural intuition, Ponds - one of the best tactical minds of their generation, Bly - a born diplomat; the kind of charming that couldn’t simply be taught, and Fox - good at staying alive.
Fox shook his head, banishing those thoughts into the far reaches of his mind - he simply didn’t have the time for them right now - as he got up from his desk for the first time in recent memory. He gritted his teeth as his already blurry vision swam, forcing him to grab the back of his chair to keep from falling. He took a deep breath, willing the dizzy sensation to pass. Perhaps this was slightly more concerning than he’d initially thought. Despite this, his plan of action hadn’t changed; the medics couldn’t do anything for him besides put him on bedrest, and - in what appeared to be becoming a trend for him - he simply didn’t have the time for that. Fox took another moment and - upon realizing that he no longer felt like getting better acquainted with his pathetic excuse for carpet - moved towards the door that led to the hallway.
He didn’t bother closing his office door behind him - it would be harder to open when he returned with his coffee if he did - and made his way down the hallway and towards the depressing display also known as the Corrie Guard Mess Hall. He had to squint when he entered - the fluorescent lights here were much brighter than they were in other parts of the Headquarters - and took in the scene before him.
Troopers were scattered across the room in various states of wakefulness and disarray. A group of five troopers seated near the door caught his attention and he felt his heart clench slightly as he took in the state of them. They were young, only a few months past being shinies if he had to guess, so young that the oldest among them would have only been the equivalent of a natborn 20 year old. One, seemingly the youngest of the group, sat with his head pillowed on his arms and Fox genuinely could not tell if the trooper was awake or not. The vod sitting next to him was tapping halfheartedly at a datapad, dark circles painfully obvious as he pushed his slightly overgrown curls out of his eyes. On the other side of him, a slightly dazed looking trooper poked at his ration bar with distaste while squinting in the brightness of the mess hall, a pale bandage starkly visible against his shoulder-length, dark hair. Fox managed to recognize one of the two troopers sitting across from them on the opposite side of the table. The Guard’s newly appointed CMO, Mito, was asleep against the trooper next to him and looked about as tired as Fox felt. The medic’s cheeks looked more gaunt than Fox remembered and he seemed pale and rather sickly, which immediately worried the Commander. It seemed that the last trooper at the table was of a similar mind as he alternated between shushing the long haired man across from him and shooting worried glances at the man currently using him as a pillow. Fox noted with concern that the fluffy haired trooper didn’t look much better himself, in fact none of the five troopers seemed well. Perhaps the Guard wasn’t handling things quite as well as he’d thought.
Fox forced himself to push aside his thoughts of the young troopers and make his way to the caf machine in the corner of the mess hall. He wouldn’t be able to help any of them if he, himself, was drowning in flimsiwork, which simply meant he had to complete it so he could start on the problem at hand. Fox grabbed his cup from under the machine as soon as it was done and started towards the basket that typically held ration bars, only to find it empty. Fox sighed, he’d have to come back later once they’d refilled it. His stomach gave a paltry protest as he turned towards the doors, but he ignored it and left the mess hall, relishing in the significantly dimmer lights of the hallway as he returned to his office.
As he reached his door, Fox noted that it was more ajar than he recalled leaving it. Taking a steeling breath, Fox entered his office to find a Jedi sitting on his lumpy sofa. He exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders as he realized who it was; the sight of this particular Jedi sitting on his rather sad looking, black couch was far more common than he’d ever expected it to be. Fox crossed the room without a word, walking behind his desk to set his caf down before bracing himself against the back of his chair.
“How did you get into my office?” The Jedi smirked at him and tilted his head in a manner that Fox found equal parts infuriating and attractive.
“You shouldn’t leave your door open if you don't want just anyone wandering in, Commander.” The Jedi’s tone was teasing and Fox let out a harsh breath through his nose before continuing.
“Fine. Why are you in my office, Vos?” The Jedi’s smirk widened - which should have been physically impossible, but if Fox had learned anything about Jedi in the past several years, it was that they weren’t particularly fond of sticking to the rules of what was possible - and produced a brown paper bag, shaking it slightly in Fox’s direction.
“Now Fox, is that any way to talk to someone who’s just brought you lunch?” Fox felt every bit of frustration drain out of his body at the thought of food and it must have shown on his face, because Vos’s smirk turned to a blindingly bright smile. Fox privately thought that smiling rather suited the jedi, but instead of allowing that thought to gain any sort of foothold, he made a grab for the bag of food. The jedi acquiesced rather easily, allowing Fox to take the bag out of his hand without a single protest, and leaned back against the cushions of the couch as Fox tore into the bag. It happened to be a sandwich from Fox’s favorite food truck located near the senate dome; nothing fancy, but good all the same. He recalled mentioning the truck to the Jedi in front of him at least once before, during another impromptu visit like today’s, but he was honestly impressed that the Jedi had remembered.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the food, Quinlan, but that can’t possibly be the only reason you’re here…” Something flickered in Quinlan’s eyes, but it vanished as soon as it came and the man was plastering a teasing grin over his features as he leaned forward off of the back of the couch.
“So, all it took to get you to call me by something other than my last name was a sandwich?” The question was teasing, but Fox felt as though there was some veiled nuisance hidden within that he was missing somehow. He decided not to spare it too much though and half heartedly rolled his eyes before replying.
“Well, the quickest way to a man’s heart is to go through his stomach.” Fox deadpanned and Quinlan snorted slightly before letting out a genuine chuckle. Fox tried not to be too proud that he was the one who managed to make the man in front of him laugh; he was pretty sure he was failing. Unfortunately - in Fox’s opinion anyways - the moment passed all too quickly and both men sobered as Fox stopped to take a closer look at the Shadow. Fox hadn’t had the opportunity to look in a mirror lately, but Quinlan looked just as drained as Fox assumed he did. The circles under the Jedi’s eyes were darker than Fox could ever recall seeing them - when he’d started keeping track, he had no idea - and his shoulders had an exhausted, defeated looking set to them. That was incredibly out of character for the cocky and borderline-hyper Jedi. It seemed that everyone in Fox’s general vicinity, including Fox himself, was at their breaking point. If alarm bells hadn’t been ringing before, they were now.
“Vos, when was the last time you slept?” Fox stared down the man across from him. The Jedi huffed in response, raising his eyebrows in an obvious challenge.
“Back to last names, are we?” Quinlan grumbled. Fox cocked his head at the sharp edge to the Jedi’s tone. Vos was stubborn, but Fox was more so and they were both well aware of that fact.
“Don’t deflect. When was the last time you slept?” Fox repeated. Quinlan’s jaw clenched as he leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with Fox.
“Tell me when the last time you slept was, and maybe then I’ll tell you.” Quinlan clearly hoped that this would make Fox drop the subject, but Fox found that he was too tired - and too worried - to care about appearances at this point.
“I’m not sure,” Quinlan opened his mouth to protest that Fox hadn’t answered the question, but Fox cut him off before he could even get a word out, “I’m not avoiding the question: I just genuinely don’t know…” Quinlan stared at Fox for a moment, clearly stunned that Fox hadn’t completely dodged the question, let alone answered honestly. The silence dragged on, edging towards a minute, and he was beginning to lose hope that he’d receive an answer. Fox nearly startled as Quinlan broke the silence, clearing his throat.
“Four days…The last time I slept was four days ago.” Fox was honestly more worried now that he had an answer; four days was too much for normal natborns - they started getting hallucinations at day three - and was a lot even for clones or Jedi, who either were engineered to be able to function on less sleep or were able to use the Force to sustain themselves. Quinlan was clearly just as aware of this as Fox because he started rambling, anxiously trying to explain himself while looking anywhere but at Fox.
“Typically I’m better about this kind of stuff. I know I’m sharper and more helpful if I sleep and it’s easier to control my psychometry, but this new case I’m working on is really important and incredibly time-sensitive…Only problem is that I’ve hit a dead end - well more of a road-block, but my point still stands - and so I just don’t have to time to sleep, but the fact that I haven’t slept is making everything harder to figure out, so it's really a vicious cycle-” Understanding dawned in Fox’s rather sleep-deprived brain and he cut off the Jedi mid-sentence, knowing that he’d never stop otherwise.
“You came here to talk through your case with me, didn’t you?” Quinlan opened and shut his mouth a few times - struggling to form a response - before swallowing hard and beginning to ramble again, still refusing to meet Fox’s eyes.
“Well, yes, initially; but you’re so busy and you’ve probably slept even less than I have, so I shouldn’t put this on you…I’ll just go, I’m wasting your time-” Quinlan seemed to be about to stand and leave the office, which Fox decided simply would not do. He wasn’t sure when he’d decided that helping the Jedi with his cases was enjoyable, rather than just another chore, but he had and he was sticking by that.
“What’s the case?” Fox asked, cutting off the Jedi's ramblings. Quinlan’s head shot up so quickly that Fox was briefly concerned that the man had given himself whiplash, bloodshot brown eyes meeting his own for the first time in several minutes.
“What about your flimsiwork?” It was a weak protest at best, but Fox almost admired the Jedi for trying. The commander shrugged, grabbing the datapad he had been working on before he’d gone to the mess hall.
“I can multitask - if anything, having another person here will help keep me awake. Now, the case?” Quinlan launched into an explanation of how he’d been tasked with looking into corruption and treason in the Senate, which had led him to the Chancellor - Fox was disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest - but that was where he’d encountered his current problem. He could only look into the Chancellor’s records and communications with a warrant…from the Coruscant Police. Safe to say, he wasn’t getting one. The Coruscant Guard had access to some records, but none of the ones that Quinlan needed, nor could they give outsiders warrants even if they did. Quinlan had been pigeonholed by the Coruscant Police at every turn and was quickly running out of options. Fox listened quietly, working his way through about five of the datapads stacked on his desk while Quinlan explained, absorbing as much information as he could and filing it away for his own investigation.
“If we could arrest the Chancellor for something else - something more mild, like…tax evasion - then we could get his records for everything, but he’s the Chancellor of the Republic: there has to be someone making sure that he pays his taxes!” Fox thought about it for a moment, tax returns were one of the few records for the Senate that the Guard had access to - why, Fox wasn’t sure - and he couldn’t think of anyone whose job it would be to keep track of the Chancellor’s taxes, and someone like that would have to have various different clearances. Before he could tell Quinlan that, however, the Jedi’s comm chimed and he glanced down at it with a sigh before making to stand.
“Well, I have to leave - briefing with the High Council on my ‘progress.’ Wish me luck…” Fox glanced up from his datapad at the Jedi, a small smile creeping across his face decidedly without his permission.
“Best of luck, Quinlan…” Quinlan smiled softly, not quite meeting Fox’s eyes, as he turned and left the office. Fox was fairly sure he had hallucinated a slight flush on the jedi’s cheeks. If he hadn’t; he truly hoped that Quinlan hadn’t worked himself to the point of illness.
Fox stared at the doorway Quinlan had departed through for a moment, datapad sitting uselessly in his hand, before his stomach began grumbling. Finally reminded that he hadn’t eaten in several hours and that someone had been kind enough to bring him food that weren’t rations of some variety, he set aside the datapad and unwrapped his sandwich. Fox filled out his weekly requisition forms as he ate - they needed to be in soon and didn’t require too much effort - thus leaving only a small, manageable seeming pile of datapads on his desk. Fox decided that he could work on those tomorrow or whenever it was that he woke up, considering that he was going to sleep at 0200 hours. Come to think of it, Fox hadn't even realized that it was that late. Clearly Vos hadn't either if he'd called the meal he'd brought him 'lunch'.
Fox cleared his desk of its assemblage of empty caf cups and disposed of them, along with the sandwich wrapper, using the trash chute in the hall. Fox returned to his office briefly to collect his helmet and closed the door behind him before setting off for the barracks. Along the way, he passed the communication center - which also doubled as their record room - and poked his head in to see who was on duty. It turned out to be two of the troopers from earlier and, now that they were wearing their armor, Fox realized he recognized them. Fox realized with relief that these two would be the perfect troopers to help him with the admittedly hairbrained and technical plan he’d hatched during his brief lunch. Data and Staple looked up as he fully entered the comm center, pressing the door so it slid shut behind him. Data frowned, turning his attention back to the datapad in his hand as he spoke.
“Do you need something, sir?” Data asked distractedly. Fox stepped closer so that he was standing across the table from the younger troopers.
“Yes, a favor if it’s not too much work?” Fox kept his voice low as he spoke, no need to draw attention to the fact he was about to ask them to commit treason. Staple shot a glance towards Data, who merely shrugged, before turning his attention back to his Commander.
“Of course, sir. What do you need us to do?” Staple said anxiously. Fox glanced behind him to ensure it was still closed, then scanned the room. Feeling confident that they weren’t being listened to, he continued.
“I need you both to look into the Chancellor’s tax returns. Look for anything missing, out of the ordinary; you two know the drill.” Data’s head shot up and he properly looked at Fox for the first time since he’d entered the room. There was an excited gleam in his eyes as he spoke
“Are we trying to bring the Chancellor in on charges?” Fox made a semi-affirmative gesture, realizing what he was attempting to pull off for the first time since he’d come up with it.
“For the time-being; call it a favor for a friend.” Fox stated simply. Data nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer. His face had taken on a determined set as he started tapping at his datapad again, attempting to figure out where the files would be located. Staple had an earnest, hopeful gleam in his eyes as he spoke.
“Thank you for trusting us with this, sir. We won’t let you down!” Fox smiled reassuringly, patting both troopers on their pauldrons before turning and exiting the comm center, making sure to prop the door back open as he left.
It wasn’t much farther to his barracks, which he was fairly sure used to be an office. He’d been afforded individual quarters due to his rank as Marshal Commander, which was likely fortunate due to the odd hours he ended up working. He shed his armor as quickly as he could, stacking it on the rack that his batchmates had pooled their meager funds to buy him when he was first assigned. The room was slightly dusty - a consequence of not having stepped foot in it for force-knows how many days - but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He flopped down on the rather thin mattress and closed his eyes, drifting off into much needed sleep accompanied by the echo of Quinlan’s laugh. Hopefully he’d have some answers for the Jedi once he woke up.