Obi-Wan: *holding onto the bars of a caged medical room, throwing a tantrum to end all tantrums, threatening to end full lineages* -SO LET ME OUT OF THIS BLASTED CAGE BEFORE I BLOW IT UP IM HUNGRY AND WILL END EVERYONE TO GET A CHEESEBURGER-
Master Che: *threateningly pulling out a sedative* Kenobi, I really don’t wanna have to use this-
Obi-Wan: *bursts out into tears and throws himself to the ground out of reach so she’ll have to open the cage if she wants to* BEING MEAN TO PRISONERS IS ANIMAL CRUELTY-
Bant: Obi, chill, it’s just a cold. You’re just hangry, lunch is on it’s way. We can’t let you spread a cold strain half the temple isn’t vaccinated for.
Obi-Wan: *looking up at her with sad pathetic abused baby tooka eyes* Bant, please, they aren’t being nice, they’ve threatened to put me down-
Che: He’s delirious, Bant, I threatened to sedate him if and only if he couldn’t calm himself.
Obi-Wan: And now they’re starving me because I called Master Dooku an overly important blowhard-
Che: ?? When did you do that???
Obi-Wan: And I’m not being allowed communications or entertainment-
Bant: Obi, you texted me two minutes ago.
Obi-Wan: MY VISION IS BLURRY I CANT SEE WHAT IM TYPING I NEED A SCRIBE
Bant: *deep sigh, sees Qui-Gon coming down the hallway with a take out container from Dex’s and Obi-Wan’s favorite storybook* Oh look, your master brought you lunch! *makes a hasty retreat because no one’s paying her to entertain her brother with a 104.7 degree fever*
Qui-Gon: *slides the takeout box through the slot on the floor, moves to sit next to a weepy Obi-Wan who shoves a handful of fries in his mouth, still crying* Tough day, buddy?
Obi-Wan: *sniffs* Master Che hits me when you’re not looking.
Che: *deep sigh and quietly notes down ‘chronic liar when he has a fever’ on Obi-Wan’s patient chart*
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I have come to the realisation that I love individual Jedis but do not like the Jedi Order as a whole.
There's clearly a lot of systemic issues with the Jedi, some that could be solved by separating from the Senate/Republic and some that require an overhaul of the Jedi Order's way of operating, but individual Jedis are awesome.
There are many Jedis I love- Plo Koon, Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, Cin Drallig, Jocasta Nu and Vokara Che to name a few- but I can't stand the way they operate as a whole.
I may investigate this in a fic or long form post.
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11 with Thire and Fox?
It's a last resort. Fox doesn't want to do this, he'd rather have Hedge or Remedy or Hemlock - any of the Guard medics - take care of Thire, but there's just no time.
Thire's pulse is already thready, growing weaker. If Fox's armor wasn't red before, it certainly would be by now. He leaves bloody footsteps on every step leading up to the temple entrance.
There are two guards at the doors; they startle at his appearance, then rush forward as Fox staggers towards them. One speaks frantically into an internal comm as the other approaches Fox, hands outstretched for Thire.
Fox jerks back instinctively, tightening his grip on his youngest commander. He's here for their help, yes. But it's hard to trust, after every official request for help that Fox sends has been denied.
Hopefully the actual, physical presence of a dying person is enough to galvanize the Jedi into action.
The Guard steps back when Fox flinches, and opens the great doors. Fox is ushered through into a grand golden hallway, but the beauty of the architecture is lost on him. He just needs to know where the damn medbay is.
Rushing footsteps echo through the halls, and Fox turns to see General Windu barreling towards him, flanked by a small green Mirialan girl and a blueish Twi'lek.
"Commander Fox," General Windu says. Huh. Fox wasn't sure the General even knew his name. He signed all his rejected aid requests with CC-1010, as is protocol.
Surely the General can't ignore an in-person plea.
"You have to help him," Fox says, and then tacks on the final indignity: begging. "Please. I know you don't allocate resources - I know the Coruscant Guard should be self-sufficient, but. Please."
It's worth it. It's worth it to beg for Thire's life. Fox would go down on his knees and grovel if he wasn't bearing the full dead weight of Thire and his armor.
"Of course," General Windu says quizzically, and motions the other two forward. The Twi'lek lifts a hand; Thire is suddenly weightless in Fox's arms.
"We'll take it from here, Commander," she says with a sharp nod, and then Thire's body is drifting after her as she races down the corridor, snapping instructions to the girl. "Barriss, go prepare the surgical suite. We're going to need our reserves of clone blood and-"
They turn a corner. Thire disappears from view. Abruptly, Fox's exhaustion catches up to him and he crashes to the floor in a clatter of plastoid. He'd carried Thire here at a dead sprint; they'd been too far out for a Guard speeder to pick them up in time.
A gentle hand falls on his shoulder, and to Fox's shock, General Windu is kneeling next to him. "Master Che is our best healer," he says reassuringly. "Your man is in good hands."
Fox nods dumbly. It's all he can muster.
The General continues delicately, like Fox is something fragile. "Commander, I have to ask - what did you mean by 'we don't allocate resources?'"
"Is this some sort of trick question, sir?" It's got to be.
General Windu shakes his head, and Fox sighs inwardly. He knows better than to refuse to answer a superior's question, and he knew coming to the Jedi temple would hold some degree of awkwardness, but this-
It's almost cruel.
"Sir," Fox says tonelessly. "Every request the Guard has made for supplies or assistance has been rejected with the response that we, as military police stationed on Coruscant, are not subject to the supply chain of the GAR proper and thus only require the current number of supply shipments."
Which would have been fine, if the Guard had just been military police. Fox would have made it work. But over the course of the war their responsibilities had expanded to include guarding the Senate, accompanying Senators off-world, and taking over any case the Coruscant Security Force could even vaguely link to the war. Which they did, all the fucking time, because apparently clones were just there to do everybody else's job.
Eventually Fox had stopped sending the requests.
"Commander, I assure you, we would never-" the General breaks off, breathing harshly through his nose. Fox tenses. If Windu got angry, he could take it, but with Thire in such a precarious position-
"Commander Fox," Windu continues. His voice is carefully level. "I have not seen any such requests from the Guard."
No. No no no, this couldn't be happening. Fox wasn't a liar. He knew what he'd written, he knew what he'd seen, he-
He has to agree. For Thire.
Fox stares at Windu's left ear and says in a dead voice, "Of course, sir. My mistake."
"No," the general responded, that level voice cracking a bit. "No, Commander, I believe you. And I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this. And we will help your men."
Hesitantly, Fox meets the Jedi's eyes, reads the fierce intent there. It goes against his whole being to trust this man, after all the rejections and rationing, but -
They helped Thire, without even a question. Maybe they could help the rest of the Guard too. And Fox would never forgive himself if he turned down anything that could help his men.
"Yes, sir," he says finally, and Mace smiles.
(ok this one got away from me a little bit)
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