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There’s no sound in the room, despite there being five beings crammed into the tiny office. The air conditioner runs in the background and Cody dimly notes that it's still very warm in the office, but that could have to do with the five full grown men occupying the space.
Thorn stares back at Cody’s batch, Cody’s remaining batch, and waits for someone to speak up.
He’s met with silence.
The first real noise to break the silence is Ponds, who draws in a shaky breath and then collapses on the ground in a clatter of plastoid armor while sobbing. Bly follows him to the ground quickly and they both hold onto each other as they cry.
Cody knows he should go and comfort his vode, but it feels like his brain is processing information at half-speed, like he’s trying to swim through molasses. His limbs feel locked into place, held into position only by his armor and sheer willpower. His center of balance has been knocked out of position and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
Wolffe is still deathly quiet, which is unlike him. He and Fox had always been known for having smart mouths. Wolffe was abrasive-he said exactly what he meant and there was no reading between the lines at all. Fox on the other hand could talk circles around anyone, insults and threats disguised as funny remarks. It wasn’t until later when you really thought about what he said to you that you realized he’d been insulting you all along. It was something the two had used in defense of their twin argument. They were both names after animals, and they both were known for being mouthy.
Cody glances over his shoulder to the left, where Fox would normally be standing, if they were all together. Fox scored the highest in everything is his batch, and the only reason Cody got to stand up front was because he was older. But Fox isn’t there. Fox would never be there.
Because Fox was dead.
Thorn said the circumstances surrounding Fox’s death were unknown to an extent, but that medical reported that Fox had undergone an extreme amount of stress that caused his heart to give out. In short-a heart attack.
Fox died from a heart attack.
Cody doesn’t believe it.
Cody doesn’t believe it because Fox was resilient. Being a CC aside, Fox was just too damn stubborn to die from a heart attack. This was the same man that as a cadet he would try and continue training when injured. This is the same Fox that would go to blaster practice with a broken finger and a swollen eye and still get top marks. This is the same Fox that would hold his own in hand-to-hand combat after having his shoulder popped back into place. This is the same Fox that would march another klick on a fractured ankle.
Fox was too strong to die from a heart attack. He was too resilient to die from a heart attack. He was too stubborn to die from a heart attack.
Fox deserved better than to die from something that he could never see coming. Fox deserved to die a warrior’s death, in the heat of battle, holding the line for his men. Fox deserved to survive the Clone wars and live to an impressive old age and die peacefully surrounded by those he loved. Fox deserved to die righteously.
Fox deserved better than a heart attack three years into the war where he only saw battle once. Fox deserved better than to die alone in a hallway where he wouldn’t be discovered for another five hours when the next patrol came by. Fox deserved better than to die waiting for Cody to call him back.
Thorn is still staring at Cody, waiting for someone to speak, to ask a question, to rage at him, to throw blame on the Guard. Thorn is prepared for every one of those outcomes. He waits as Ponds and Bly pull themselves together off the ground. He waits as Wolffe trembles from head to toe and does an impressive job at keeping his mouth shut. He waits as Cody processes his brother’s death. Thorn doesn’t move an inch, he barely breathes as he stares down Cody, willing him to read between the lines the way that Fox could.
“Fox would never die from a heart attack.”
The words, punched out from somewhere deep in Cody’s mind, break the silence in the room finally. Thorn makes sure that his expression doesn’t change. “The official cause of death, on paper, is that Marshall Commander Fox, died from a stress-induced heart attack.”
Thorn hopes that Cody can understand what Thorn is trying to tell him. And like a massif with a bone, Cody takes that bait. “Officially, Fox died of a heart attack.” Here Thorn nods. “And unofficially…”
“Officially, Commander Fox died of a heart attack. Officially, you four have one week of bereavement leave. Officially, you are allowed to spend that leave wherever you might like. Officially, this meeting is over gentlemen.” Cody nods stiffly and begins ushering his grieved brothers out of Fox’s-Thorn’s office. “And Commander Cody,” Cody looks back over his shoulder. “Unofficially, the remaining Coruscant guard commanders will be at 79s at 22:00.”
Thorn doesn’t look up from the flimsy in front of him to see Cody’s reaction. He just listens to the door of the office shut, and he hopes that Fox’s brothers will be able to get into places that Thorn cannot.
Because officially, Marshall Commander Fox died from a stress-induced heart attack. But heart attacks don’t leave hand shaped bruises or burn marks on skin. Thorn wants to know what happened to his Commander, in the unofficial capacity.