Live Through This

Chapter Four: Suicidal Tendencies

She was electric, the eye of the storm. Every song on the radio was about her and she knew it. She had the makings of a cult leader, or rather, a General. She wasn't anything like what Eyes had been told to expect in his Jedi, and he was glad of it. She was too busy being a supernova to notice insubordination, or a lack of professionalism in the clones. Or, maybe she did notice, and just didn't care. Either way, Eyes didn't fear her, like so many clones did their Generals. In fact, he orbited her. General Konni Nafai was the first person outside of his brothers that Eyes ever thought he might give a damn about. 

She was holding court around the campfire, telling a wild story about infiltrating a dark side cult on Canto Bight and flushing out their leader by organizing the young women he'd trafficked against him. If anyone else had been telling the tale, he'd say it was bullshit, but from what he knew of Konni’s past it was wholly believable. The role of a Jedi Shadow was something he didn't fully understand, but he could tell that General Nafai missed that sort of work. She was kind to all of them, and took extreme care in her battle plans, but it was easy to see that she'd never wanted to take on the mantle of General, no matter how well she wore the title. 

“Anyways,” she sighed as she finished her tale, “he's dead now, and his little church is gone, thank gods. Is there any more revnog?” 

“Here, general.” Hops said, passing a glass flask to her. 

She poured a few fingers of liquor into her cup, and then passed the flask to the trooper on her left. He didn't want any and passed it off to Eyes. He was already feeling a little bit too wired from all the stims he'd taken that day, but he filled his cup and passed the bottle on. He sipped and watched General Nafai with rapt attention. They all did.

“Wait,” the General’s Padawan, Commander Starlight, stopped her. It was hard to read Givin expressions, but it seemed as if the girl was amused. “He's dead now, as in you killed him?” 

“No!” Nafai said incredulously, “the thing about exposing people for sex trafficking is that things tend to take care of themselves. He'd built an empire of abuse, and as soon as he was vulnerable, there was a long line of people looking for their pound of flesh.” 

“But would you have?” Eyes asked, genuinely curious as he didn't fully understand where Jedi drew their lines on violence. 

“Killed him?” Nafai considered this, leaned back against a bioluminescent tree and sipped her revnog. “I guess so,” 

“Master!” Starlight said, but it seemed more like a jab than actual surprise. Starlight didn't seem to draw any lines on violence.

“He was dangerous, a dark side user. Not a true Sith or anything like that, he didn't wield a saber. But he was sensitive to the force and using his power to traffic in sentients and control his followers. If he had become violent towards me, sure, I could have killed him. Easily.” 

It was such a graphic thing to hear from a Jedi, but this was General Nafai all around. She had endless stories like this from her travels. It always intrigued Eyes to listen to them, because they were the stories of someone with choice. Choose who to kill, who to spare, and why. Her actions made sense to her, she was always confident. Eyes, on the other hand, didn't even know why he existed, really. 

Working under General Nafai had quieted his mind a bit. He didn't know why he existed, why he had to fight, or why he should care about the Republic, but he could follow Nafai. She had strong convictions and protected those around her like they were precious, and this included clones. In battle with her he could forget about Chancellor Palpatine, Count Dooku, and his own complete lack of autonomy, just long enough to make it through the fight. His love for his brothers and trust in Nafai were all that kept him going. 

He'd started out hating her, though. 

Before, when the 413th were under General Satek, things had been different. He was lower ranking then. His General and Commander didn't know him at all. He was just one of many identical, numbered meat droids. It was easy for him, if not his brothers, to see that he was nothing. A slave. Engineered to have a short, unsatisfying existence and then die painfully for a cause he didn't understand. 

Death wasn't coming quick enough, however. He started being more reckless on the field, hoping he could do some good and go out sacrificing himself for his brothers, the ones who foolishly believed in something good on the other side of this. Time after time, he still made it out alive. Eventually Eyes became frustrated with his continued existence and tried overdosing himself on a week’s worth of stims. It made him sick, horribly so, but the Kaminoans had created them to be able to withstand an extreme amount of stimulants. After a few days in the medbay, he was back in the field. 

Then, they were deployed to the planet Savells. One of the most well known battles in the early days of the Clone Wars. It was carnage the second their dropship landed. The second his feet touched the ground, Eyes was already tripping over the bodies of his broken brothers. General Satek fell, too, and somewhere around 0500 hours reinforcement came in the form of a more junior Jedi General and her Padawan. 

He made it through the battle of Savells, and with their new General they held a perimeter until more troops could arrive to help them march on the CIS base. More, more, more, was all Eyes could hear. More troops would arrive so they could go and destroy more droids, so more of his brothers could senselessly die. Eyes had lost his whole batch by now. Everyone in the world who truly knew him was gone. He was going to join them. 

In the momentary quiet between the Battle of Savells and what came next, Eyes left camp and he took a blade with him. 

Then. 

Eyes woke up. He woke up and he couldn't move. He didn't know if he impaired himself in some way, or if it was just the emotional toll of his latest suicide attempt pinning him to the ground. He was awake and that broke his heart. He wasn't supposed to be here. 

Eventually sensation returned to him, and he was able to sit up and assess where he was. He was in a tent, and he was alone. This wasn't where he had been when he'd tried to kill himself. He realizes that someone found him and intervened. He'd tried to take his life about a kilometer from camp, in the woods, where he thought he could peacefully escape from the torture that was being bred to kill.

Gods, now on top of still being alive, he'd be sent back to Kamino for reconditioning. Briefly regarding his bandaged arm, he looked around the tent. He needed to die, today. Maybe there was still some medical supplies around. A scalpel, or—

The tent flap opened. Of course, there was someone sitting right outside. They wouldn't leave a suicidal trooper unattended. He looked up and saw Hops, his commander, crouching down to enter. Eyes let out a panicked breath. He began to shake. Hops held out placating hands and sat down with legs crossed. 

“Tex found you, out by the river. About six hours ago,” 

“Why'd he save me. I don't want this,” Eyes said. He couldn't stop himself from crying, and there was no point in trying to hide it.

“None of us care what you want, Eyes,” 

That's exactly the problem, Eyes thought. I have no autonomy. I am a slave. I will always be a slave. “I can't, I can't,” was all he could choke out. 

Hops put a hand on his shoulder and sighed, “the Jedi saved you,” he said, “Tex was dragging you back to camp and she, I don't know, felt something in the force. She ran to you and saved your life.” 

“Well then fuck her, and fuck Tex too,” 

“Sure, vod. I just hope you grow to feel differently,” 

And he had, sort of. It had been quite some time since he'd intentionally set out to end his life. The recklessness was still there, and probably always would be, but things had changed since the Battle of Savells. Fighting under general Nafai was different. He almost felt human, sometimes. They were permitted to paint their armor, use their chosen names, and were treated as colleagues rather than subordinates. It wasn't much, but being here with Nafai was better than he ever thought his life would be. 

“So, who's doing that sort of thing, now that the war’s on?” Hops asked, his face glowing in the green campfire light. Apparently, burning the luminescent foliage of the moon produced green flames. Who knew.

“The stuff Shadows were up to before this? No one, I guess,” Nafai shrugged, “a lot has fallen to the wayside, but we go where we're needed most. When this is all over I'll probably get back to the smaller conflicts.” 

Eyes didn't really understand how anyone could think about something beyond this. And that wasn't really a Clone thing, though that was certainly part of it. Many of his brothers talked about what would happen when the war was won. He thought that they were foolish to think they'd ever earn their freedom, and he thought Nafai was foolish for thinking she could go back to whatever she had before. Though, as he watched her face all alight in the glow of the fire, he saw that she didn't really believe it either. There was something about her words that had become hollow. She glowed when she talked about the past, and she wasn't glowing anymore. Interesting.

Story finished, the group broke up into smaller conversations for awhile, and eventually came back together for a definitely untrue tale from Sawbones, who most in the group knew to be a bit of an exaggerator. It was some such nonsense about a training exercise on Kamino, and Eyes didn't have time for it. They'd walked for twelve hours to get here, and only had six before daybreak. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep that night, but sipping on revnog had calmed him some. He left the campfire without saying anything and set up his bedroll near a line of troopers already asleep.

As much as he enjoyed the casual nature that General Nafai had cultivated among the 413th—campfires, storytelling, and revnog every night—what Eyes liked most of as was being alone. It was something he'd never truly experienced, of course, but laying in bed with his helmet on reading a holonovel on his HUD until he fell asleep was a close approximation. That's what he dreamed of, in those ridiculous conversations about life after the war. Just getting as far away from everything and everyone as he could. Finding some place where he could lay around, get high, read books, jerk off, sleep, and daydream without anyone else breathing down his neck. If he wasn't legally a person, why did he have so goddamned much to do all the time?

It was a stupid train of thought, one that always left him feeling doomed and irritated. It made the scar running from is wrist to his bicep itch. Made him start to think about oblivion. He rolled his eyes, pulled his helmet on, and laid back to read his book. Everything was so much easier when he was consumed in the drama of someone else, someone pretend.

This was the seventh book in a series of crime novels he enjoyed. It centered around a borderline sociopathic murderer on the planet Rishi who targeted people he deemed dangerous to society. Hilarity ensued. They were gory, sleazy books. The kind of low-brow trash you could buy for a credit. He didn't know why he liked them so much, but he was already mourning the fact that the series only had eleven books. He'd have to find more just like this.

It really did relax him to just divorce himself from his surroundings and go somewhere else for while. He didn't know how anyone could stand this life without fully checking out every twenty-four hours or so and thinking about something completely different. He long suspected that the Long Necks forgot to give him whatever it was that gave his brothers mental fortitude and faith in the Republic. He tried his best for the people around him, the people he cared for…but he still just could not find his place.

Eyes dozed off after reading a chapter and a half. He slept soundly for awhile, until a scream jolted him awake.

Reflexively, his hand shot to his hip. His blaster wasn't there, it sat in a stack of his personal items beside his head. By the time he found it, he'd realized the scream was none of his business. It was General Nafai, and she was scolding her Padawan again. He heard her hiss, "I told you not to do that anymore!" before the conversation between the two women devolved into harsh whispers. He stared at the approximate location where the noise was coming from and wished he could just roll over and go back to sleep. Unfortunately for him however, the glow of the trees was dimming and the light of the sun was beginning to filter through the trees.

He had great respect for both the General and Commander Starlight but, kriffing hells, they were always screeching at one another for some reason. Sometimes it was positive, sometimes it was negative, but it was never quiet. Eyes mourned the thirty minutes or so of sleep he could have gotten, then sighed and stood. He brushed some fallen leaves off of his armor and packed up his gear. They had another twelve hours of walking today, and the closer they drew to the monastery the more likely they were to run into trouble.

He found General Nafai around the smoldering leftovers of the campfire, looking forlorn. He sat next to her and asked, "everything alright?"

She didn't turn to meet his gaze, just poked at the charcoal with a stick and scoffed.

"Taking that as a no,"

"No, I'm fine. Just—" she threw the stick away from her. "Does Star seem okay to you?"

He wasn't expecting that. "Wouldn't know, Sir."

"You're close,"

Were they? "I suppose,"

"She's just…acting out."

"Is that not normal for people her age?"

The General shrugged. "We think she's seventeen,"

"Think?"

"A lot about Starlight is a mystery," she rifled through her bag, pulled out what she needed for instant caf, "and I'm just noticing that she's taking to all this like a fish to water."

"Maybe. Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know. Maybe not," she sighed, handed Eyes a cup of instant caf powder and poured water into it from her thermos. "the Jedi used to be something else though. We didn't use to teach kids how to dismember and reassemble. My master mostly taught me about Indigenous medical practices throughout the galaxy."

Eyes liked that she was talking to him, sharing her worries with him. He wanted to keep her talking, to help ease her mind, to win her favor. But he just had no idea what she was talking about, and he guessed asking what she had been screaming about was a step too far. It was weird, she'd seen him dying and saved his life. She knew such intimate details about him but he knew nothing of her beyond the charming Jedi General she showed the world. Clearly there was more going on in those brain tails than met the eye.

"Huh," was the best response he could come up with.

"Sorry," she sighed as she began mixing a cup of caf for herself, "it's just been a stressful couple of days."

Eyes nodded, sipped his caf. "Agreed."

Something in her eyes shifted then. The frustration and vulnerability seemed to melt a bit, replaced with that charismatic and caring version of herself she projected most of the time. "How are you?" She asked, "I know this can't be easy, with everyone we've lost."

"It's rough, but—" he didn't actually know what to say, "I'm fine."

She smiled at him, clearly not believing it. Pitying him. And oddly enough, he was glad to be pitied.

"Well, let me know if you're ever not fine, alright? Seriously. I don't want you to think you're all interchangeable to me. I'm glad Starlight has a friend like you. She likes talking to you about those damn books."

"So do I," he said, trying to muster up the courage to say more. Before he could though, Hops appeared and sat down on the other side of the General.

"Everyone's up. We're breaking down camp and should be ready to head out in fifteen or so," he said, sipping on his own instant caf.

"Any new data from the recon droid?"

"Negative. Looks like something took it out."

The General sighed. "Just wonderful,"

"We're ready for anything, Sir."

Eyes resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Hops. Instead, he stood left his higher-ups to discuss their journey. They were the smart ones, the tacticians. He envied their abilities, but knew these discussions were rarely anything he could help with. His job was to help Hops implement their plans and work out some of the practical details. He wanted to stay in General Nafai's presence, especially since she seemed to be enjoying his company, but the campfire had long burned out and RnR was over.

There wasn't much for him to do on a morning like this. The troops didn't really need any help packing up their bedrolls and putting their boots back on. So, he went to find Starlight, who he was apparently close with.

He found her sitting under a vine-covered tree and reading on her datapad. He approached, and she looked up at him. Reading expressions on a Givin's face was almost impossible, but something about her seemed distraught.

"I don't want to talk right now, but if you want your stitches looked at I'll do that for you. Without talking."

Eyes wanted to laugh at her, but figured this wasn't the time. He had no clue what had gone down between the two women, but it was clearly distressing to both of them. He could respect that.

"My shoulder's fine," he said flexing a little bit. It wasn't fine, really, but didn't need attending to. "Just thought you might want some company."

"Not really. I sort of want everything to be quiet for awhile."

Eyes nodded and sat down next to her. "I get that. I like quiet."

She studied him for a moment. "Okay. You can walk with me, then. We can both be quiet."

"Deal." He said, draining the last of his caf, replacing his helmet, and loading up his book. It was liable to be a long, difficult day. But mutually agreed upon silence might make it bearable.