• Clone Wars Thorns Death

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Ch6: The Pain of War

Wolffe swallowed as he leaned against the railing of his vantage point. The pain in his chest an angry throb of agony dull and sharp flaring as he gazed at the skyline of Coruscant the stars and nebulas still pale twinkling in the far distance the red sunset of Coruscant having just begun.

He'd been reassigned to Coruscant with all the crazy going on, clones losing it, Fives turning on his own. His men had taken it all in stride. They were finally getting cut some slack. Boost and Sinker had been ecstatic. They were all itching for a good fight but a break after the streak of redeployments they'd been forced into was a refreshing relief. They would never admit it aloud but the skirmishes and days of nonstop gunfire had taken a lot out of the men. Wolffe himself had been looking forward to some downtime. Several nights of rest in a bed where there was no danger of an aerial bombardment or an AT-At attaché was not something he was about to turn down especially after their last deployment.

They'd made it to Coruscant in good time. The men all taking off to pass the few days they had to themselves before they would be redeployed to reinforce the home guard. He himself had lingered by the main plaza. The fountains always caught his eye as did the general vastness of the plaza's and shops and the people, the movement of every day existence. His place was on the battlefield. Giving orders, rerouting men, shooting separatists and strategizing, building trenches, running simulations. But sometimes just allowing himself to look at the lives of others as they mulled about their mundane day to day existence it gave him a strange sense of calm even if he knew he didn't belong to this life. The sensation of daily activity, it filled up his mind in a pleasant background buzz of noise and color blanking out his mind and saving him from having to brood over the war, his nightmares, his fears. Here he was one of them. Another face in the endless sea of faces of those walking around and about as they took care of their daily business. It was easy enough to blend in if you were out of armor. Most civilians didn't look at you twice as they went about their daily existence.

It had only been three hours in when Coric found him leaning against a railing by the fountain plaza mind drifting as he idly observed the activity below. The moment he'd seen Coric's face he'd known something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Coric was shivering, his eyes wide in fear and sorrow. He explained it all very slowly his eyes never leaving Wolffe's face. Repeated the news several times over to make Wolffe listen to make him understand. But Wolffe had stopped listening. His face blanched as the words turned to a dull noise in the back of his mind as he processed what he had heard.

Thorn, Thorn was dead. He'd died only ten standard hours ago. He'd died just as Wolffe had secured another victory for the Republic. He'd died as Wolffe had smiled at the viewport thinking that this time it had been enough. He'd been enough. And now, Thorn was dead. Had been dead as his ship had made it for Coruscant had been dead as Wolffe had celebrated his victory with the men.

He hadn't believed it at first. Couldn't believe it at first. Thorn, Thorn was the best of them. He was the best shot. With a blaster, with a pistol, top notch in hand to hand combat, fastest grenade setter, best artillery man, top notch AT-At shooter. He was lousy at all the datapad work but when it came down to it Thorn was the best at what he did. And he did a great many things. So when he heard the news he didn't believe it, couldn't believe it, couldn't bring himself to believe it.

He was numb. He denied what he'd heard. Denied it even as Coric grasped his hand gently, repeating words that he could not hear. Repeating words of comfort that he could not care to hear could not bear to hear. He denied it. Denied everything. It hadn't been Thorn, it couldn't have been Thorn. He stood their numbly as Coric tried to make him see, tried to make him understand. At length he understood. It sank in slowly. The realization that Thorn had died, was dead, had been dead for hours now. He made Coric drag him to the conference room. Made him show him the death as it played on the holonet. It had been the only thing playing on the Coruscanti news in an endless time loop a tribute to the Commanders heroism. Watched it, watched as Thorn tore down droid after droid hundreds of separatist droids shredded by his hands before he fell, body riddled with tens of hundreds of blaster marks. He collapsed into a chair the darkness of the room only accenting his loss, underlining his pain.

He shut the holonet off after the first replay through. He couldn't see the death another time. Wasn't sure if he would survive it. A lump in his chest had formed making it hard to breathe a cold knife of pain, loss, grief. His men had come. Boost and Sinker. Had spoken to him had spoken at him. And as they spoke something inside him broke, slowly and painfully, tearing at his senses at the walls of his mind at his sense of self. The world tilted precariously on its axis, reality and the realm of illusion overlapping as his body shook sweat pouring down his brow from the sheer shock of the death. He fled. His men had tried to follow him but he knew Coruscant like the back of his hand, several turns through the streets and he was gone.

He stood now at a vantage point of a skylinescraper looking down at the city below as the wind blew through his hair, pain tearing at his prosthetic eye, pain tearing at his soul. Thorn was dead. Thorn, his friend, his brother, his blood brother. They had grown up together. He and Thorn. Played together, laughed together, had each other six. Wherever Thorn was Wolffe was sure to be seen. Wherever Wolffe was holed up brooding pouring over strategies Thorn could be found punching away at a bag as he pretended to listen to what he called obsessive jargon only to be called a hypocrite in turn. They'd known each other since infancy. Had been together till they'd gotten their squads and even then, wherever Hammersquad lounged around for break time Wolffpack could be found. No one messed with them or their packs because picking kriff with one meant inviting the other for some up close and personal peace negotiations. They'd been nearly inseparable, until the war. Until deployment. Until Geonosis. And now, now Thorn was dead. He hadn't seen Thorn in months, hadn't heard from him in just as long.

After Abregado, nothing had ever been the same. They'd both grown distant, they were Commanders. They had battles to run, wars to fight. And Fox he didn't recognize him anymore. His skittish clever brother. He was gone. What had once been skittishness had given way to arrogance. And his cleverness had turned into something dark something twisted. A shiv that tore at others a shiv that tore at Fox himself.

Fox too had grown distant, had grown cold. Calculating in a way Wolffe had never seen before. He'd met Fox briefly when he'd fled. They'd embraced. Fox had laughed. 'Just another one of many brothers, Wolffe. Just another one eh?' The words shook him to the core as he backed away from the twisted broken face backed away from another dead brother. Wolffe didn't recognize him anymore. Couldn't recognize him anymore. It was at that moment that he'd realized that he'd lost another brother. Had lost two brothers in the span of an hour. It was much, too much.

He knew death; he'd lost so many men the stars of the galaxy could pale in comparison. But Thorn he was the best of them. If anyone would have lived it would be him. Wolffe new his day would come one day, all clones did. He just hadn't thought that he'd outlive Thorn. Outlive the best of them. Outlive his friend, outlive his blood brother. It was much. Too much.

He gripped the railing as he shook; the pain cascaded down his shoulders into his arms and down his legs. It took all of his strength just to remain upright from the miasma of darkness and desolation that brushed the edges of his sense. He couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't lose another one of his brothers. Abregado, Khorm, Geonosis, Dorin, Umbara. The list of planets was lengthy. The names of the brothers lost several hundred times longer.

He couldn't do this. He'd lost so many. Too many. He reached for his blaster studying it as it lay in the cradled in the palm of his hand. One shot was all it would take. And it would be over. It would all be over. The deaths, the battles, the fighting the nightmares the pain. He swallowed thickly as he balanced the weapon his mind at war with itself. It was screaming, he was screaming, it was drowning, he was drowning. In loneliness and heartache in desolation and despair. His men, he couldn't do this to them, couldn't take away another brother. But he couldn't do this to himself, this life he lived, the deaths he faced, the never ending carpet bombings the never ending array of blaster fire, snipers and heavy hitters, rocket launchers and bombs, starfighter battles ground assaults. His body shook at the phantom memories of it all. The pain of blaster marks riddling his body. The fear that they wouldn't make it in time. That they wouldn't be extracted in time. The fear that they would all die nameless deaths on nameless planets in nameless graves their bodies too disfigured to be identified their lives to insignificant for it to matter.

He placed the blaster over his heart. Closing his eyes as he concentrated on his heartbeat as it fluttered in his chest constricting painfully and erratically as the deaths of all those he held dear tore anew raw his bleeding heart. A little pressure on the trigger. That's all it would take. It would be over. It would be all over. His finger trembled as he counted his heartbeats. His heart fluttering in his chest his breath hitched his heart skipping a beat as his hand loosened its hold lowering the blaster He couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough to do it. Or was he? In a swift motion he pressed his blaster to his temple. Perhaps it would be easier this way. He closed his eyes once more only to throw away the weapon in disgust.

He couldn't go through with it. Couldn't do it to his men. Couldn't do it to Sinker to Boost to Coric. They'd be devastated and he'd be to dead to care. But he just couldn't do it.

He grasped the railing as his breathing came out in shallow gasps turning to lean against it gazing at the city below the red sunset of Coruscant bathing the vastness of the city below in a breathtaking view. His mind reeling at what he'd just nearly done, what he'd just tried to do.

It hurt. The loss the deaths the memories so full of life so full of death and no matter how hard he tried the wish of death did not abate. He stood there shivering at the cold draft as the adrenaline began wearing off cold sweat slicking his brow.

He needed to tell someone what had happened. Needed to tell Coric. But if he did he'd be grounded for sure, if not sent back to Kamino for a quarantine. They'd quarantine anyone these days with the slightest of provocations. What had started as an assumption built from grief and pain had only been proven true. Clones were feared. If Fives's death was anything to go by clones were beginning to be feared even by the general public. If one could go mad what stopped others?

Nothing made sense anymore. Fox, himself, the war. He felt a dizzying sensation and he pressed his forehead to the cool metal to abate it.

-0-0-0-

It was dark by the time the General found him, the stars and nebulas in the sky above majestic and breathtaking. The door to the skyliner opened the draft intensifying the chill of the night as his body tensed against it.

'I thought I'd find you here.' He tried not to flinch as the General made his way to his side a warm hand landing on his shoulder. Wolffe didn't speak. Wasn't sure what to speak off. Only that the sharp pain of loss had dulled giving way to a burning heat at the base of his heart.

'Your men are worried for you Commander.'

'They asked you to find me didn't they?' The General sighed and something warm was draped over his form. His eyes widened fractionally as he realized it was the General's Jedi robe.

'You ran off. They feared for what you might do, so yes they asked me to ensure you did not attempt anything foolish.' Wolffe chuckled hollowly at the words the pressure on his shoulder only intensifying. 'I heard the news, I am sorry for your loss.' The General's eyes trailed around the perimeter at his silence his keen senses catching the discarded blaster on the skyliner's roof. But Wolffe knew the proof of the blaster was unnecessary. His presence and the turbulence of his emotions through the force was more than enough for a Jedi. The scene had General Koon spinning the Commander around to face him as both hands grasped at his shoulders searching Wolffe's face. 'What did you do?'

The sting of shame enveloped him as he found that he couldn't look away from his General's gaze. But he found that whatever it was he had wanted to say it had stilled at the tip of his tongue as his knees buckled under him from exhaustion.

'Wolffe.' The General sank to the floor with him not abating his hold shaking him out of his numb stupor. 'I…I couldn't do it. I'm sorry I tried General. I understand if you want to send me to Kamino for this.' The unspoken terror of what that might entail was easily sensed by the force user.

'No one is sending you anywhere Wolffe. You need rest. Accepting death is difficult made more so because of a paramount of loss. But do you think Commander Thorn would have wanted you to follow him? If you had died is that what you would wish on your brother?'

'No.' Plo Koon nodded to himself as he released his hold gently leaning the drained Commander against the low wall of the roof. They sat in this way together in silence. Wolffe with his grief and the General with his knowledge of what his Commander had attempted to do. At length Plo Koon broke the silence.

'Speaking of what you have lost often eases the burden.'

'This is different.'

'I knew Master Piel for many years. He was a good friend. An accomplished swordsman. And an asset to the Jedi for his great wisdom and even greater kindness. It was difficult for me to speak of him for many days after he had passed on. But you were there to listen.'

'I…I can't…' He couldn't not now not yet. The pain was to great.

'I will be here when you are ready.' Wolffe swallowed painfully a lump gathered at the base of his throat as he shivered further into the jedi robe engulfing him. The sharp cool air of Coruscant sent icy chills through his frame as his body fought against itself in waves of hot and cold spells of sweat nausea and dizziness as his General studied him frowning.

The force ebbed and flowed banked and turned in an ever flowing and ever winding passage. His eyes raked the stars as he sat by the side of his Commander. His gold and amber signature so weak against the stars he could not have sensed it unless he'd known what he was looking for. The weak flame twisted and flared higher and lower against the onslaught of memories a harsh maelstrom of wind and power against the weak flickering of the amber flame. What had once been a pillar of willpower and beacon of loyalty had been brought low with terror that no man should have witnessed and fear and agony that no ordinary man could survive. The pain was raw and old, sharp and fresh. It was agony incarnate a loss so pointed and great so poigent and deep that were he not shielding the pain would have brought even him to his knees.

The pain sharpened and the Commander was left gasping for breath as he attempted to steady himself elbows on his knees cradling his head as he did so the flicker that was his life force thinning dangerously as if in faint.

His hands came up instinctively as he gripped the Commanders shoulders bracing him a hand rubbing soothing circles behind the shoulder blades from years of practice with temple younglings and frightened initiates. The Commanders human form relaxed slightly and Plo Koon was glad it was so. He steadied the man as he leaned back against the low wall eyes beseechingly on him. As if he were the man's lifeline. But in the force it was not a just the man he saw, but the boy. The man who was ready to face down armies, take on sith to protect his men but also the boy. The frightened and lonely boy who loved who craved to love and be loved and who broke with every death of a loved one. It was an attachment incarnate and one Jedi were not supposed to have but though it was so he understood. And so much more. As he looked on at his Commander it struck him how different he was from the other men. How different all his men were. And though in face they were all the same in the force they could have all just as well been wearing different faces. And as he thought upon this another thought came to mind. One he had not wished to dwell upon though now he did. The gross cruelty the Jedi had been privy to, a darkness marring the clear skies of galaxies twinkling above.

For when parents begat children they did not force them on a path, and if they did so in the end for the most part it was usually the child himself that chose his path. Even he a Jedi, each Jedi chose the path of the light it was not a chain upon him fettering him with that which he desired to break free off. But clones. The Kaminoans begat them and yet the clones were not free. And so it was the epitome of failure of the Jedi.

'I have just realized something Wolffe.' The tone was heavy in apology as the General heaved a breath before continuing.

'What….what is it?' The tone alarmed Wolffe only to have General Koon sighing once more. 'The Jedi had never authorized the creation of a clone army…and yet use it we did. We never asked whether the clones wished their fate upon themselves and so they fought.'

'I don't understand…I am proud to fight for the Republic!' The words rang only half true for Wolffe and what had once been a zealous mantra had turned into words of habit the meaning behind them having change a long time ago. 'It is an honor to fight by your side General…' Those words were true and they rang true in the force warming Koon's heart.

'Perhaps you are, however there have been many more deserters than the general public and the clone Commanders are appraised off. It is classified but it is so.'

Wolffe's eyes widened though his presence sill leaked pain and exhaustion. 'Why are you telling me this Commander?'

Plo Koon sighed. How could you tell a slave he was so? How could you explain to one that there was a freedom beyond service? And so he asked. 'Tell me Wolffe what did Commander Thorn do in his free time?'

'Sir?'

'What did he do when he had no objectives to accomplish?'

'I…I don't know sir… we were always busy training…'

'I see…' Plo Koon sighed deeply, the matter was too great and deep, and now was not the time for its breaching.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a time one utterly spent the other musing on the tragedy that was the clone war. At length the silence was broken as Wolffe shifted his gaze to the stars his cybernetic eye mapping out the constellations for him before he blinked away the lines and words only to be left with the nebulas and stars of the sky in the black darkness above.

'General? May I ask a personal question?'

'You never need permission for that Commander'

'When Master Piel died…you told me he became one with the force…'

Wolffe swallowed hesitantly. 'When Jedi die, they too become one with the Force. Where do clones go? Can they become one with the force as well?'

The question startled Koon not just for its depth but for the intensity with which Wolffe had asked the question, though truth be told he should have expected a question such as this to be posed by one of his men eventually. He tilted his head back resting it on the low railing as he gazed up at a particularly colorful nebula in the force above. 'We are all part of the force Wolffe. The force is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us. It penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. Upon death we become part of the force, Jedi are merely strong enough and trained enough in the force to still reach over to the living.'

Clone Wars Thorns Death

'I… I see…' The Commander looked up at the stars once more his face pensive as his presence in the force ebbed and flowed gently flickering as it gathered its strength.

'So in the end…we are all together are we not? That's…'

'Commander?'

'Sorry Sir…it's just…we clones…don't…in another fifteen years if we even manage to survive that long...we'll all be…' There was a sharp sigh as Koon felt the sharp, painful and unspoken truth of inevitable death. 'It's comforting to know that no matter the time and no matter space… we're never alone… and in the end… we'll see that… and you'll be there too…'

The words were so simple yet so profound. They carried such love and devotion commitment a silent plea to the world to Koon himself. And as a lone tear tracked down the Commanders face from his still good eye Koon found that he himself was openly shedding tears as well. 'Yes Wolffe…I will be there as well.' The thought was like a fire it lit the dredges of sorrow within him the veiled anguish at every battle fought that had chipped away at his trust in the force only to flare anew now. Because he had seemed to have never realized that despite the light around them despite every sorrow and trial in the end they would all be one… or perhaps he had always known and along the line somewhere had forgotten that in the end there would be peace and understanding even if it was not in this world.

There was pain and there was suffering and it was a Jedi's duty to do all he could to protect the weak and champion peace and end suffering but in the end as he had said so himself Jedi were not infallible. And though the desire to save the galaxy was great it was not always the case that everyone could indeed be saved. But through it all for good or bad there was a place the good and the innocent could go despite all this. So in the end all that was good would be saved it was just a matter of time. And while he himself had wished he could lessen the pain of the world he knew that he could not and it was not his place. The place of a Jedi was to try and though master Yoda had said do or do not there is no try many times that was all a Jedi was an attempt to make the galaxy a better place to reside within. But in the end of the day it was not just what he had done it was what he had tried to do. A thin unbidden smile came to his lips as he gazed at the now black sky above. His gaze shifted to the Commander whose exhausted flame in the force was gently flickering as the Commander breathed evenly in sleep the cool night of Coruscant whistling past them and the skyliner as it did so.

His Commanders actions were troubling he would have to keep a closer eye on Wolffe though truth be told he could not blame the Commander, so many had lost so much in the war that in the end all there was left to do was fight on. But through it all in the end…there was no pain no death only the force. And the thought among all others gave him comfort in the darkened times. The road ahead would be fraught with blood and agony but he wouldn't have to tread this path alone, and though a Jedi needed no such thing this thought too gave him a measure of comfort.

Okay so I know that the battle of Scipio where Thorn dies is much earlier in the seasons but because it came out in season six and because it makes more sense. Here Thorn dies around the time that Ashoka is condemned for the temple bombing. I think it's more fitting because of how Thorn dies. It underlines the strength of the clones while the General public is beginning to fear them because of Fives and other clones that had gone mad. I had this chapter lying around for a while and wasn't sure if I wanted to post it but then I figured why not? So excuse any grammar mistakes etc and tell me what you think, feedback is much appreciated.

Very dark stuff but that's war. Wasn't really sure if I should have posted this chapter. Feel free to tell me what you think, till next time.