One thing i love about the cw fandom is that everyone unanimously agreed that Fox had greying hair, so I’ll bring forth a bit of an angsty headcanon in honor of that.
Despite popular belief, Fox didn’t go grey because of the Chancellor and all the insufferable Senators on Coruscant. Instead, he drew the short stick and ended up with a minor mutation that resulted with him going grey earlier than the other clones. However, that particular trait made itself known a bit too early.
Fox is a year away from graduating out of Kamino when a sliver of grey catches his eye in the bathroom. He has to search for it a bit, but after a few moments he finds it. A silver hair sprouting from his right temple. He stares at it for a long time, as if in doing so it would magically disappear, but it doesn’t. When he hears footsteps down the hall he quickly plucks it out and gets dressed.
He notices more after a while, three on his right temple and two in his left. This time, his hands shake slightly as he pulled them out and throws them to the ground as if he’s been burnt. You see, out on the battlefield, no one would care for a couple of grey hairs. When they’re getting shot at, the generals have better things to worry about than a mutated clone. On Kamino though, there was no telling what the longnecks would do to him. He’s heard of brothers being decommissioned for less. So for the next month, he checks his hair every day and pulls them out whenever he can.
His routine, however, is broken when he gets called by Priest to fight. He’s happy to have made it out alive since Priest is known to have vode fight to the death, but he still lands in the med bay for a week. When he’s out of the bacta tube, the only thing Fox wants to do is hug his brothers and sleep for another week. Things, sadly, don’t go as planned.
“Ey Fox, what’s that on your hair?” Bly asks innocently when he breaks their hug.
At that, Fox freezes. His body is as tense as a bowstring as he makes his way to the tiny private bathroom of the barracks and locks himself inside. His reflection in the mirror is unforgiving.
Peppering both sides of his head are dozens of grey hairs, almost too many to count. Looking at them, Fox feels his heart pick up as his hands grip the sink tightly. He runs his shaking hands through his hair, trying to pluck out as many traitorous hairs as he could, but it was no use. His hands shake too much and he can hardly see through his blurry eyes and someone’s pounding on the door and-
“KRIFF!” He yells, ripping at his hair and sinking to the floor. This was bad. The Kaminoans will notice, hell maybe they already have. They’ll come for him and take him away from his batch and to the decommissioning wing where no one ever made it out and then-
“FOX open the damn door!” A voice shoutes, dragging him out of his spiral. It was his own voice, except a bit harsher and lower. Wolffe, then.
Would Wolffe try to stop the Kaminoans when they came for him? Would he fight them, or would he let them take him away to through the sterile hallways of their hell.
“Fox this is the last time I’m asking. Open the kriffing door or I’ll blow it off it’s hinges.”
Wolffe would do good on that promise, Fox knew. So, with a thick and shaking voice, he said, “I will, just, give me a second.”
The pounding subsided, so at least Fox knew they heard him. Slowly, painfully so, he got up, trying to even his breathing though he knew that it was no use. He hesitated for a moment when he put his hand on the lock, but ultimately flicked it open.
Immediately, the door flew open as five brothers rushed into the room, crowding him.
“Fox, what the kriff was that all about?” Cody asks, holding his arm tightly. Similar questions pour from his other brothers, but Bacara notices first. He always had been observant.
“His hair is greying.” He says. To his credit, his voice doesn’t shake that much.
Immediately, Fox has five pairs of eyes on him, taking in his red rimmed eyes, thick tears and bleeding scalp.
“Fox… you- how long?” Ponds asks from behind Wolffe and Cody.
“About a month.” He whispers, trying to his his face in Wolffe’s shoulder. His brother doesn’t let him though, instead holding him firmly by the shoulders at arm’s length.
“You know we’d never let the longnecks take you, right?” Bly says softly, looking like he wanted to crush Fox in a hug.
“It’s not like you could stop them!” Fox snaps, suddenly filled with rage. No, it was fear, but he’d found out from a young age that it was better to turn those emotions into rage and use them affectively.
Bly flinches slightly and Pond’s looks similarly hurt. It was unfair of Fox to snap at them, but they all knew he was right. If the Kaminoans wanted to get to him, his batch wouldn’t stand a chance against them.
They waited in tense silence until Wolffe spoke up. He’d been eerily silent the whole time, probably plotting knowing him. “Look, we’ll figure something out. You can dye your hair, I’m sure 99 or Alpha-17 can get us something and- they- Rex is blond and nothing happened to him, right? He’s also got a minor mutation and he’s just fine.”
“They took Rex away three times to take his blood and analyze him.” Fox shot back.
“And they didn’t find anything.” Bacara quipped in.
“Well what if they find something for me, huh? What if they see that I’m aging faster, or that it’s affecting me mentally or-”
“Fox, calm down. They won’t find anything because they won’t figure anything out. We’ll dye your hair and keep you out of trouble. It’s gonna be fine, you hear me?” Wolffe said, pulling him close until Fox couldn’t look away.
After a tense fee seconds filled with a dozen flying thoughts, Fox took a deep breath and nodded. He was immediately crushed by Wolffe in a hug, and Cody and Bly quickly joined them.
When Fox got his breathing under control and finally managed to loosen up, they practically dragged him to their beds. They held him for a long time before they fell asleep.
In the morning, they ran over to 99 who, after a bit of rummaging, gave them a sack filled with brown sludge. It smelled disgusting which made sense when 99 told them it was waste from one of the Kaminoan’s machines, but according to him it would dye his hair just fine.
In the end, Fox made it through graduation without the Kaminoans of the trainers finding out about his little mutation. It was one of the rare times Ka’ra smiled upon him and made his life easire.
When Fox had killed Fives, he had woken up parched, with a pounding headache, and absolutely no recollection of the events that had transpired in the warehouse. It was only when Thire told him, voice low and wavering, that he truly understood.
Fives had been a brother too close to the truth, and what he had to say had been startling. General Skywalker and Captain Rex may not have believed him, but Fox had been the only one to black out during the mission and his boys had told the other commanders what Fives said before he died.
And hadn't that been a ride to hear. According to the ARC, the Kaminesii implanted chips in their brains when they were still tubies, and those chips could control them once an order was given. Additionally, the Chancellor was also somehow roped into this as he knew about the chips and their true purpose.
Fox, Thire, Thorn and Stone had sat in his office for what seemed like hours, silent and contemplating. That would explain so much, too much really. The blackout missions all of the Guard seemed to have, the holes in their memory, and most importantly, the Chancellor.
Sure, he was a sick fuck that liked to practically torture Fox and did nothing to protect the rest of the Guard, but for him to be plotting against the Jedi and controlling the clones... well honestly he couldn't say he was surprised. Still, if he was willing to go so far to have Fives eliminated, who said he wouldn't go after the Guard, or after Skywalker and Rex'ika.
The thought of the Chancellor so much as touching Rex or any of his Corries made his skin crawl, so in the late night hours when the Guard gets the little sleep they can, Fox comes up with a plan.
He digs out his emergency folder, the one with all the incriminating evidence on the Chancellor and their theories about him, writes down their most recent discovery in it, and makes as many copies as he can. The folder was extremely incriminating to begin with, and he had kept it practically buried under the barracks in hopes that no one would ever find it. Now it will finally get to see the light of day.
Fox distributes the folders to the vode with clear instructions, sends half a dozen away to the Jedi Temple, and patiently awaits the impending call. Just before the sun is about to rise and his brothers with it, the Chancellor calls for him.
He knows he should be afraid, terrified even, but as Fox collects his guns and charges, he feels a strange sense of calm. This must be how my vode in the front lines feel before marching into battle, he thinks. He never got to be on the front lines, and his hands are stained with the blood of a brother, but he prays to Ka'ra that what he's about to do will make up for all his mistakes. It's a foolish thought, he knows it won't, but he can't help but hope.
Silently, he apologises to his brothers, to Wolffe and Cody, Bacara and Bly and Rex, and Ponds, although he's marching on. His heart aches that he couldn't say goodbye to Thorn and Thire and Stone, that he had to leave them with such news, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had never been the most lovable of people, certainly not after Fives, so he doubts it would take the Guard long to get over him. Still, he writes a small note and leaves it on his desk before marching out. Hopes it's enough knows it isn't.
When he walks into the office, the Chancellor doesn't even pretend as he usually does. Instead a cold sneer pulls at his lip and his hand hovers over two of the folders Fox has sent out. Good. That means four made it to the Temple, he thinks.
Before the man- no, he was no man- before the demagolka could move, Fox unlatched his gun and shot. Once, twice, three times. They all swerved to the side as the dar'jetti simply raised his hand. With a flick of the wrist, Fox felt an invisible pressure seize him around the throat and lift him up into the air.
"You really thought you could ruin this, ruin me? This plan has been decades in the making, and I'll die before a clone foils it." The Chancellor spat, lifting Fox higher into the air.
His chest was on fire and dark spot filled his vision, but there was nothing Fox could do about it other than wither against the invisible hold in the air.
"I've had much fun with you Commander, but it seems you've become a bit of a problem. I'm sure some of the others will fill your spot well, though I doubt there will be many clones left to lead. I want you to know that what's about to happen to them will be all your fault." Palpetine whispered cruelly.
No, not his men, his vod’ike. Desperately, Fox clawed at his throat, but when he saw that wasn’t doing anything, he droppers his hands to his side and rummaged through his belt.
He though Palpetine would notice, but the man seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice so much that he hadn't noticed the explosive Fox had slipped out of a pouch, or the clink as the pin fell to the tiled floor.
There was silence, and then there was light. Unlike the Commander, Palpetine had no armor to protect him from the brunt of the blast and flew back and out the shattering window. All that was left of the charred office was a lone clone slumped against the wall.
Fox looked out the shattered window and saw soft tendrils of light peeking from beyond the horizon. He had known that he wouldn't survive the day, had intended on it actually, but even now on the verge of death, he was calm. There were voices in the background, movement in his periphery, but he paid it no mind. As he slipped away, he realized that this sunrise had to be the most beautiful he had ever seen.
This is based on the idea of a post order 66 where the order failed and the Jedis/GAR won over Palpatine. The world is safe! The GAr is disbanded and the clones are welcomed into society!
Sort of.
At the very least, the Jedi have bullied the Senate into providing the clones with accomodation and reperations. The Senate have promptly washed their hands of the clones after that, and the Guard have been removed from their positions and told they're free citizens of the Republic now.
And Fox, poor Fox, is a traumatised, institutionalised, wreck of a man.
He's not the only one of course, but he's the focus of the story. This is about his trying to find a place in the world, about the monotony of every day life when you've been living on eggshells, and eventually, hopefully, about healing.
A little snippet!
-
Fox wakes up. There’s no bunk above him. The ceiling is shadowed and dark. He’s alone.
He glances over at the alarm chrono on the small table next to his bed. Oh-five-hundred. The therapist suggested he try and sleep in a little bit later.
He looks back to the ceiling. Closes his eyes.
He lasts a minute before he can’t contain the restless itch under his skin.
He works out for an hour. Cardio then strength. It helps with the itch. He’s maintaining the capability of the product. This is an acceptable pastime. He almost manages to push and do another circuit.
