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jetii · 23 days ago

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Too Sweet

Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,514/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, this chapter is more dark/intense than the others oopsie, smut in part 4

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Sorry in advance for Thorn and the sads. I'll make it up to you next part. 💙

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

The next few weeks are a blur.

Fox is pulled in so many directions that he can barely keep up. Between the Senate meetings, the riots, the constant flow of paperwork, and the barrage of complaints from his brothers, it's a miracle he's able to sleep at all.

But the time he spends talking to you is a bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence.

It's a welcome relief, and he finds himself looking forward to your messages, eagerly anticipating each new one. You're funny, and thoughtful, and you're able to get him to open up, which is something that hasn't happened in a long time. It's strange, and a little scary, but he can't bring himself to stop, and the longer it goes on, the more he feels like he's starting to slip.

He knows that you're only talking to him because of the grant, and the thought that you could be using him makes his stomach churn. But he doesn't think you would, and the fact that you seem genuinely interested in his well-being is something that he can't ignore. You always ask him how he's doing, if he's getting any sleep, and your concern is obvious, and yet, it still catches him off guard. He's not used to being cared for, and the way you treat him, like he matters, like he's human, is so different than anything he's ever experienced before.

Fox doesn't tell his brothers about you. He's not sure why, but the thought of telling anyone about his friendship with you makes him nervous. There's something special, something fragile, about what you have, and he doesn't want anyone to ruin it.

But, the secret doesn't last long.

One of the guard squadrons is ambushed during a routine patrol, and Thorn is caught in the crossfire. When Fox gets the report, he immediately heads for the med center, and when he gets there, he sees a group of troopers gathered outside the entrance. They're talking quietly amongst themselves, and they all look nervous. One of the men sees him and waves him over, a grim expression on his face.

"What happened?" Fox asks, his heart sinking. "Is he okay?"

"He's stable," Burst replies, and Fox lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "But they won't let us see him."

"They won't?"

"No, sir," he sighs. "Something about hospital policy."

Fox frowns, a cold fury filling him. The fact that they would deny his brothers, his family, the chance to see their brother is infuriating, and the idea that Thorn was sitting in the medical ward, alone and hurt, makes his blood boil.

"I'll take care of it," Fox says, and Burst nods, looking relieved.

He pushes past the group, his fists clenched, and walks inside, heading straight for the front desk. The nurse looks up at him, his expression blank, and the look on his face must be enough, because his eyes widen, and he sits up.

"How may I—"

"Thorn," he growls. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, but we have a strict no visitors policy," the nurse says. His voice is calm, but his fingers are tapping on the desk, and the action betrays his nerves. "I can't—"

"Show me where he is," Fox demands. His voice is low, and the troopers behind him shift uncomfortably.

"Commander," the nurse says, a note of panic in his voice. "Please, calm down. If you'd just—"

"No," he interrupts, leaning over the desk. The nurse recoils, and Fox can see the fear in his eyes. Good. He should be afraid. If he didn't show him where Thorn was, he'd—

“Fox.”

The sound of your voice cuts through the red haze in his mind, and he pauses, turning towards you. Your eyes are wide, and there's a concerned crease between your brows. The sight of you, the way you're looking at him, brings him back to his senses, and he pulls back, taking a deep breath.

"What's going on?" you ask, frowning.

"I need to see Thorn," Fox says, his tone sharp. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, but the frustration is still there, simmering beneath the surface, and he can't seem to let it go. "They won't let me."

"He's not allowed any visitors," you explain softly. You glance at the nurse, and she nods, scurrying off. "He's in intensive care."

"I don't care," Fox snaps. He's tired, and the stress is making his temper short, and the last thing he wants is to get into an argument with you. "I'm not leaving until I see him."

"Fox." You walk over to him, and he feels his resolve weaken. There's a look in your eyes, something pleading, that makes his chest tighten, and he can't ignore it. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently. "I know you're worried, but please, trust me. I'm not keeping you from him. I would never do that."

The anger slowly fades, and the tension drains from his body.

"I know," he mutters.

"He's stable," you say. Your grip on his hand tightens, and the contact is reassuring. "He'll be okay. I promise."

Fox nods, his shoulders slumping. He's not sure what he was expecting, but the truth of your words hits him hard. You're not lying. You would never lie to him, and the fact that he had doubted you, even for a moment, leaves him feeling sick.

"Can I at least check on him?" he asks. "Make sure he's..."

"It's against protocol, but..." You trail off, biting your lip, and then give him a small smile. "Just a few minutes."

"Thank you," he breathes.

"Come on," you say, tugging on his hand. "He's in the surgical ward."

He lets you lead him down the hallway, passing the group of troopers as you do. They watch the two of you go, and Fox knows that the rumor mill is going to be buzzing tomorrow. The thought makes him cringe, but the knowledge that Thorn was alive, and safe, is all he can focus on.

"I'm sorry," Fox mutters as the two of you walk. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"It's okay," you say, shaking your head. "You were worried."

"Still." He glances down at your joined hands, and he can't help but wonder why you haven't let go. The thought of it being because you enjoy the contact, because you like touching him, is absurd, but the thought lingers.

"You don't have to apologize," you say, squeezing his hand. "I know how you feel."

"Oh, really?" Fox raises an eyebrow. "How many times have you threatened the staff?"

"Well, I haven't had the pleasure, but I can't say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind," you tease.

"You, threatening someone?" he snorts. "I doubt that."

"You'd be surprised."

You come to a stop outside a set of double doors, and you swipe a card through the reader. The doors slide open, and you step inside, pulling him with you.

The ward is quiet, and the sterile smell of bacta assaults his nose. He wrinkles his nose, and you smile, your fingers twitching around his. The movement is subtle, but he notices, and he gives you a small smile in return.

"This is him," you murmur, stopping in front of a door.

You press a button on the control panel, and the door slides open, revealing a dimly lit room. A bed is pushed up against the wall, and there's a machine hooked up to a figure laying on it. Fox's breath catches, and he lets go of your hand, stepping inside. The door closes behind him, and he stands there, staring at the form of his brother.

Thorn's armor is gone, and his chest is covered in bandages. His face is pale, and his hair is matted with blood, and the sight is enough to make Fox's throat tighten. He's still alive, but he looks so small, so fragile, that Fox has to resist the urge to reach out and shake him, to wake him from whatever nightmare he's trapped in.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I should've warned you."

"It's fine," he whispers, and the words are almost lost in the silence of the room.

He turns to look at you, and the sympathy in your eyes is enough to break him. He lets out a shaky breath, the tension draining out of him and leaving him feeling hollow. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, his vision is blurry, and the tears spill over. He tries to wipe them away, but they keep coming, and he turns away, ashamed.

You don't say anything, but your hand finds his, and you squeeze, your thumb rubbing circles into his skin. It's a simple gesture, but it means so much, and Fox lets himself lean into you, just a little, letting your warmth ground him.

The two of you stand there, silent, listening to the beeping of the machines. The room is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheets, and the only light comes from the monitors and the glow from the hallway. It's peaceful, in a way, but Fox knows it's a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the chaos. As soon as he leaves, he'll be back in the fray, dealing with the riots, the protests, the Senate. And without Thorn, things will be even more difficult.

"It'll be okay," you murmur, your voice soft.

Fox doesn't reply. He can't.

"Fox."

He looks down at you, his expression grim. Your eyes are wide, your brows furrowed, a hint of concern on your face. You squeeze his hand, as if trying to comfort him, but he pulls away, the gesture too intimate, too close.

"He'll be okay," you insist, your tone gentle.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice breaking.

He's tired, exhausted, the weight of his duties pulling him down, dragging him into a darkness that he can't escape. He's lost so many brothers already, the loss of one more would be unbearable, and he can't help but wonder if he's cursed, if his luck is finally running out.

"I know," you say, and there's an edge to your voice that surprises him. "Trust me."

Fox swallows thickly and nods. You reach out, your hand cupping his cheek. The touch is light, but the gesture is meaningful, and his heart skips a beat. Your eyes meet his, and your gaze is filled with such conviction, such strength, that he can't look away. "I won't let him."

"Okay," Fox murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

The two of you lapse into silence again, and Fox can't seem to tear his eyes away from you. There's something different about the way you're looking at him, something that he can't quite name, and it leaves him feeling raw and exposed.

He knows you're not lying, but the thought that you could possibly care so much about him is terrifying. You're so warm, so kind, so sweet, and he doesn't understand how someone like you could ever be interested in him. And yet, the way you're looking at him, the concern written on your face, tells him that it's true.

Fox reaches up and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer. You smile, and the sadness in your eyes melts away, replaced by a warmth that fills him with hope. He takes a step closer, and you close the distance between you, your body pressed against his. His free hand finds its way to your hip, and the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms. It's comforting, and Fox lets his eyes fall closed, savoring the moment.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He knows he should let go, that it's probably inappropriate for him to be so close to you, but he can't bring himself to move, and you don't seem to mind. Your hand moves from his cheek to his neck, your fingers lightly stroking his skin, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"Anytime," you murmur.

The two of you pull back, and the loss of contact makes his heart ache, but the look on your face is enough to soothe him. You smile at him and then step away, walking over to the bed. You check the monitors and smooth out the sheets. “He should be awake in a few days. I'll let you know when."

He clears his throat and nods. "Thanks."

"Do you want me to escort you out?"

"No, no, I can find my way."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." You give him a small smile, and his chest tightens.

"I'll see you around," he says, and the words feel inadequate, but they're the only ones he can think of.

"You will." You hesitate, and then lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Commander."

"I'll try," he murmurs. He gives you a small smile, and then heads for the door, his mind racing. When the door closes behind him, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The scent of lavender lingers in the air, and the warmth of your lips on his cheek is like a brand. He lifts a hand and brushes his fingers against the spot, his stomach fluttering.

When he turns to leave, the men outside the room are nowhere to be found, and he lets out a sigh.

So much for secrecy.

"Well, well, well, looks like the commander has a new girlfriend."

Fox looks up, his eyes narrowing. Thire is leaning against the door frame, a grin on his face. Behind him, Stone is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"What are you talking about?" Fox asks, his tone flat.

"Word around the barracks is that you're sweet on a nurse," Thire teases, and he winks at him. "A cute one, too, by the sounds of it."

Fox bristles, offended on your behalf. It had been three days since the incident at the medical center, and Thorn was doing better. You'd been true to your word, and you'd kept him updated on his condition, sending him daily messages about his progress. Fox hadn't expected anything, but the fact that you'd kept your promise, and the fact that you seemed to genuinely care about his brother's wellbeing, was touching. He wasn't used to people keeping their word, and the gesture was more meaningful than you probably realized.

“She’s a doctor," Fox mutters, returning his attention to the report in front of him. "And she's not my girlfriend.”

"That's not what Thorn’s men are saying," Stone comments. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "You were awfully cozy with her."

"It was nothing."

"You held hands, Commander."

"We were—" Fox breaks off, his face heating up. You’d held hands, hadn't you? You'd touched him, held him, and he'd let you, had wanted you to. He shakes his head. "She was being nice. She let me see Thorn."

"So, the rumors aren't true?" Thire asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're not sleeping with her?"

"No," Fox scoffs. The idea is ridiculous. Him? Sleeping with someone like you? That would never happen. You were too sweet, too kind, and the thought of you with someone like him, someone cold and harsh and damaged, was ludicrous. "She's a friend."

"Right," Stone mutters, exchanging a knowing look with Thire. "A friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Thire says, smirking. “Just that you've been spending a lot of time with her lately."

"So?"

"So, she must be pretty special."

"She is," Fox snaps. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, and he quickly turns away, staring intently at the report on his desk. The words blur, and he frowns, his brows knitting together.

Special. Was that what you were? To him? You'd certainly been a bright spot in his life, a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds that were constantly hovering over his head. You were kind, and warm, and gentle, and the thought of you, and the way you made him feel, was something he was starting to crave.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Shit," Fox murmurs, closing his eyes.

He'd never felt like this before. He'd never had time for relationships, never had the opportunity, and he'd always assumed that the feelings he'd heard his brothers describe, the butterflies and the warmth and the longing, were exaggerations. But now, faced with the realization that they might be real, he wasn't sure what to do.

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

“Shit."

"Something wrong?" Thire asks, and his voice is filled with amusement.

"No," Fox snaps, glaring at him. "Just go away."

"Sure, boss," Thire chuckles.

Stone smirks and winks at him, and the two of them turn and leave.

Fox sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He'd been trying to avoid this, trying to avoid thinking about the warmth in his chest whenever he talked to you, the way his stomach fluttered whenever you smiled at him, the way his skin tingled when you touched him. Physical attraction was one thing, but this...this was different. And it was a complication he didn't need.

His comm beeps, and he picks it up, his stomach dropping when he sees who it is. He presses a button, and a holo-image of you appears. You're wearing your scrubs, and there's a smile on your face that makes his heart race.

"Hey," you greet, giving him a small wave.

"Hi," he manages.

"I just wanted to let you know that Thorn's going to be discharged tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," you say, and the smile on your face grows. "He's doing great. We think he'll make a full recovery."

��Get me out of here, Fox!” a familiar voice yells. Fox scowls as the projection widens to show Thorn sitting up in his bed beside you, a wide grin on his face. The bandages are gone, and he looks healthy, if not a little tired. "I'm going stir crazy."

"Thorn, you need to rest," you scold, and you push his face away, but not before Fox catches a glimpse of the darkened shade of your cheeks.

Thorn winks at him, and a wave of protectiveness crashes over him. Of course, Thorn had been flirting with you, it was in his nature. His brother has always had a certain...charm, but the last thing he wants is for him to use it on you.

"I've been stuck in this bed for days," Thorn whines. "I'm not made for laying around."

"Well, it's not my fault you were shot," you tease, and Fox bristles, a strange emotion coiling in his chest. Thorn laughs and pokes you in the side. You yelp and bat his hand away, and the sound of your laughter makes his stomach twist.

"Sorry about that," you murmur. Your eyes are sparkling, and there's a faint blush on your cheeks. "He's feeling better, as you can see."

"I'm glad," Fox replies, and it's the truth. If Thorn was feeling good, and joking around, and being an annoyance, that meant that he was fine, and Fox could stop worrying. Well, he could move on to worrying about something else, anyway.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you say with a sigh. "I know you're busy. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thanks," he says softly. "For everything."

"Don't mention it." You give him a smile, and his breath catches. Even in a hologram, you're beautiful.

"Bye, Fox," Thorn calls out.

"Go to sleep," you groan. You give him a pointed look, and he laughs, waving you off. Fox's stomach twists again, and he grips the comm a little tighter.

"Take care of yourself," you say softly. You hesitate for a moment, and the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. "Comm me later, okay?"

"Are you free for dinner tonight?" he blurts out. He doesn't know what makes him say it. The words just spill out of his mouth, and before he can stop himself, he's committed. "We could talk about the proposal."

"I..." You look surprised, and your eyes widen. He wonders for a moment if he's pushed it, and the longer you stare at him, the more nervous he becomes.

"I'm sorry, I'm on shift until midnight," you sigh. "How about tomorrow night?"

"That's fine," he says quickly.

"Great," you say, beaming at him. The joy on your face is infectious, and the knot in his stomach loosens. "I’ll comm you later.”

"Sounds good."

"See you soon," you say, waving.

"Bye," he manages, and the call ends.

The silence of the room is deafening, and Fox sits there, staring at the spot where your holoprojection had been. His chest aches, and his skin feels too tight, and he can't seem to catch his breath. He stands up and paces, running his hands through his hair, his thoughts racing.

This was bad. This was very bad. The last thing he needed was to start having feelings for you. His life was complicated enough already, and the thought of dealing with this, on top of everything else, was overwhelming.

But the longer he thought about it, the more the reality set in. There was no denying it. He'd developed feelings for you, strong ones, and there was no going back. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

You were sweet, and funny, and beautiful, and the thought of having a chance with you was thrilling. Sure, it might not be reciprocated, but the possibility, however slim, was enough. If you felt the same way, he could deal with the rest. He could handle it.

Couldn't he?

Fox groans and throws himself back into his chair.

This was going to be a problem.

The next night, Fox walks into the diner and heads straight for a booth. You're already there, and you stand, smiling. The sight makes his heart skip a beat, and the urge to pull you into his arms is almost overwhelming. Instead, he walks over, stopping in front of you. You smile at him, and the warmth in your eyes is enough to send a shiver down his spine.

"Hey, stranger," you tease, and he blushes, looking away. "Long time no see."

Fox snorts. He’d just seen you that morning. You'd commed him as he was heading to a meeting with the Chancellor, and he'd had to excuse himself to answer you. He'd only talked to you for a minute, but the memory of the sound of your voice had stayed with him the entire day.

"It's been less than twelve hours,” he reminds you, his lips twitching.

"Too long."

"For me, too."

The words are out before he can stop them, and your eyes widen, a light flush coloring your cheeks. He blinks, his stomach dropping. Stars, had he really said that? Out loud? In front of you?

Fox quickly sits down, avoiding your gaze. The waitress droid appears, and the two of you place your orders. When she leaves, the silence between the two of you stretches, and the tension grows. You fidget, your fingers drumming on the table, and Fox stares at the table, his heart hammering.

"So," you murmur. "How was work?"

"Fine," he mutters. He lets out a breath and lifts his gaze. "How was your shift?"

“Fine," you shrug. There's a smile on your face, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You're nervous, and the realization makes him relax. If you're just as anxious as he is, then maybe this will be okay. "Busy."

"You should take a break."

"I will when you will,” you counter, raising an eyebrow.

He can’t help but smirk at the challenge in your tone. You'd always been like this, hadn't you? Teasing him, trying to get a reaction out of him. But now, it seemed more deliberate, and the thought that you might be trying to get his attention sends a thrill through him.

"I could be persuaded," he murmurs. The words are bolder than anything he'd ever said to you before, and the surprise on your face makes him smirk.

"Oh, really?"

"Mhmm."

"Good to know," you grin. You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, and there's a mischievous glint in your eye that makes his mouth go dry. "You should give me some ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Yeah," you tease. You wink at him, and his pulse jumps. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Suggestions," he repeats, his voice faint.

"Mm-hmm."

"Well," he says, clearing his throat. He shifts in his seat, the armor suddenly feeling too tight. Your eyes are fixed on his, and the intensity of your gaze makes him squirm. "I suppose we could—"

"Here you go!"

The droid interrupts him, and the plates of food are placed in front of the two of you. You sit up, the moment broken, and Fox takes the opportunity to collect himself. What had he been about to say? What had you wanted him to say?

The conversation moves back to the subject of the proposal, and Fox listens as you explain the details. You're enthusiastic, and passionate, and the more you talk, the more his heart warms.

You were perfect, weren't you? Perfect for him, and the longer he spends with you, the more he realizes it. He watches you eat, your eyes sparkling, and he can't look away. He doesn't want to. He could listen to you talk forever, could spend the rest of his life sitting across from you, watching you, listening to you.

He can't stop himself from imagining what it would be like to have you around all the time, to spend the nights with you instead of alone. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone to come home to, someone who would make him feel warm, and wanted, and safe. You'd do that, wouldn't you? If he asked. If he said the right things, if he made the right moves.

You would, he realizes, his heart racing.

"So, what do you think?" you ask, and the question snaps him back to the present.

“What?”

"Do you think the Chancellor would approve the funding?"

"Oh," he murmurs, blinking. He takes a sip of his drink and clears his throat. "I already talked to him about it, actually."

"You did?" You look surprised, and his chest puffs up a little. The fact that you're impressed by his efforts makes him feel smug. "When?"

"A few days ago," he admits, shrugging. “And again when you called this morning. I told him how important it was to the city, and the refugees, and he agreed to review the proposal."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's..." You trail off, your expression stunned. You let out a relieved sigh and sit back in your chair. "That's...wow. That's incredible."

"He was intrigued," Fox explains. "Especially after I told him how hard you were working on it. He wanted me to thank you for your efforts, and for your commitment."

That was an understatement. The Chancellor had been delighted to hear about your plan, and his enthusiasm had surprised Fox. The man had seemed genuinely impressed by your initiative, and he'd promised Fox that he'd look into it personally. Fox had thanked him, but he was still a little stunned.

It was rare that the Chancellor showed so much interest in something like this, and he wondered if there was an ulterior motive. But, the man had always been kind to him, and the praise had made him feel proud, so he'd decided not to question it.

He was far too occupied with picturing the look on your face when you heard the news, anyway.

"That's...wow," you murmur. There are tears in your eyes, and the expression on your face is so happy, so hopeful, that he can't help but smile. "That's amazing. You’re amazing."

The compliment makes his cheeks burn. You're looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and the adoration in your gaze makes his stomach flutter. He's never had anyone look at him like that before, and the rush of affection that follows is dizzying.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, and your eyes widen. The look on your face is vulnerable, and sweet, and he wants to kiss you so badly that he has to clench his jaw to keep from leaning forward and taking what he wants.

"It was nothing," he says, his voice low. He squeezes your hand, and you bite your lip, your eyes dropping to his mouth. "You're the one who put in the work."

"I couldn't have done it without you," you murmur, and you squeeze his hand in return. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he promises, and the emotion in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. You look away, blinking back tears, and the moment passes, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence.

Fox lets go of your hand and grabs his sandwich. He takes a bite and watches you eat, a fond smile on his face. You're staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on your face, and the glow of the city lights makes you look even more beautiful than usual. The feeling of warmth spreads through him, and the knowledge that he's responsible for the joy on your face fills him with satisfaction.

You turn and meet his gaze, and the look in your eyes is enough to make his heart stop.

"What?" you ask, grinning.

"Nothing," he murmurs, his cheeks heating up. He looks down at his food, but not before catching the way your face falls. "I'm just..." He trails off, trying to find the right words. "I'm glad I met you."

"Oh," you breathe. The softness in your voice makes him look up, and the smile on your face is bright enough to blind him. "I'm glad I met you, too."

He smiles back, and the two of you fall silent, returning to your meals. The noise of the diner surrounds them, and Fox finds himself relaxing, a contentment filling him. He's enjoying the moment, the peace, and he's surprised by how happy he is. For once, his mind isn't racing, his thoughts aren't plagued by the stress of his duties. There's only you, and the sound of your laughter, and the scent of lavender that fills his lungs every time he inhales.

And for a brief moment, a fleeting second, Fox is almost able to believe that everything is going to be alright.

It doesn’t last.

You’re in the middle of telling him a story about one of your coworkers, and he's listening, enraptured by the sound of your voice, when his comm beeps. He ignores it, too caught up in the moment to care, and it goes silent.

But then it beeps again, and then again, and he sighs, giving you an apologetic look.

"Hold on a second," he mutters.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just—"

Fox freezes, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to look out the window. It’s late, and the street outside should be emptying out, but there's a crowd of people moving outside. They’re pointing and backing away, and the murmuring of their voices is filled with panic. His skin prickles, and a sense of unease fills him. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong.

"Fox," you murmur.

He stands abruptly, grabbing his helmet from the booth and jamming it onto his head. People are starting to run past the windows, and the screams outside are getting louder.

“Stay here,” he orders, and his voice is cold, the tone he uses when he's on duty. You blink, clearly surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, but you don't protest, and he heads for the door.

Before he can make it far, there’s a rumbling under his feet, and the building shakes. The lights flicker, and the tables rattle, and the patrons let out panicked cries. Fox turns back and sees you standing, looking around in confusion.

"Get down!" he yells, and he crosses the room, reaching you in a few strides. He grabs your arm and drags you under a table, shielding you with his body. He presses your head into his chest, holding you close. Your arms wrap around him, and the two of you huddle there, the sounds of screams and panic filling the air.

"What's happening?" you ask, your voice shaking.

"I don't know."

There's another rumble, and the building shakes again. You tighten your grip on him, and he presses his head against yours, trying to comfort you. The lights flicker once more, and then go out, plunging the diner into darkness. A few people let out panicked cries, and then the building shudders, and a horrible, grating sound fills the air.

The following silence is deafening.

"Are you okay?" Fox asks as his hands move from your back to your face, tilting your head up.

"Yeah, I think so," you murmur. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, his heart pounding, and he keeps his hand there as he activates his comm. "What about you?"

"I'm fine."

The line opens, and a cacophony of voices fills his ears. The noise is chaotic, and it takes a moment for him to understand what's happening.

“—can’t get ahold of him—"

"—need to evacuate the area, there could be more—"

"Thire, Stone," Fox barks. "Report."

"Sir, we've got multiple detonations at Level 5000,” Thire replies, his voice strained. "They knocked out the entire grid."

"Casualties?"

"Unknown, sir."

Fox swears under his breath, and you press closer to him, your grip tightening. A targeted attack on the power grid was no accident, and the implications of that fact send a shiver down his spine. This is exactly what they'd been worried about, what he'd warned the Chancellor about. But he'd never expected it to happen so quickly, or so suddenly.

"Thorn and the others are evacuating the Senate building," Stone informs him. "The Chancellor is sending out an emergency message."

"What about the security teams at the station?" Fox asks.

"We're trying to get ahold of them," Thire says, his tone grim. "There's too much interference."

“I’m on my way. Stay alert, we might have more coming our way."

"Copy that, sir."

"Be careful," Stone warns. “And…sorry for interrupting your date."

Fox rolls his eyes and cuts the connection. He sits up, and the two of you scramble out from under the table. The other patrons are doing the same, and there's a general sense of panic and chaos in the air. Fox reaches down and helps you stand.

"Fox," you breathe, and your voice is trembling.

"It's okay," he assures you, though he's not sure it's true. "I’m gonna get you somewhere safe."

“My apartment is near here," you offer. "If we can make it there."

"We'll make it," Fox promises. "Stay close to me."

"I will," you murmur, and he turns and strides towards the exit, keeping one hand wrapped around yours. The crowd outside has thinned, and the streets are filled with debris and broken glass. You look up at the sky, your eyes widening.

"Fox," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

The clouds are glowing, streaks of red and orange flashing across them. There are fires burning throughout the city, the flames leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and the smoke billows into the air, blanketing the sky. Sirens blare in the distance, and the air is filled with screams and shouts and alarms. It's a scene from his nightmares, a vision of his worst fears realized, and the reality is far worse than he'd ever imagined.

“Come on," Fox orders, pulling you along. "Stay with me."

"Okay," you murmur. Your voice shakes, and he tightens his grip on you, not wanting to lose you. You're his responsibility now, his to protect, and he can't afford to make any mistakes.

The two of you run through the streets, weaving between the groups of people hurrying past. There are civilians everywhere, their eyes wide with fear, their faces smeared with ash and blood. You're moving as fast as you can, but the crowds are thick, and the debris on the ground makes it difficult to navigate.

A group of people runs past, knocking into the two of you, and Fox stumbles, his grip on you slipping.

"Watch it!" he yells, steadying himself. You grab his arm, your hands digging into his armor, and he pulls you close, trying to shield you from the chaos. You're pressed against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "I've got you," he breathes. "I've got you."

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Fox does his best to guide you through the crowds, his focus narrowing to the path ahead. His only concern is keeping you safe, and his body reacts without him even thinking. He doesn't hesitate as he guides you down dark alleys, his eyes constantly searching for danger.

Finally, the two of you reach your apartment building. It's quieter here, the streets deserted, and the sight of your building, standing tall and undamaged, is a relief. He lets out a breath and turns to face you.

"This is it," you manage. You're shaking, your face pale, and he cups your cheek, tilting your head up.

"Hey.” He strokes his thumb over your skin, and the look on your face breaks his heart. "It's gonna be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, and he reaches up and pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You let out a shaky breath, your hands clutching his shoulders, and the intimacy of the gesture sends a rush of affection through him. "I promise."

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Of course," he replies. The two of you stand there for a moment, your breaths mingling, and then Fox pulls back. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin, and you let out a shaky sigh. "Get inside."

"Okay," you murmur, nodding. "Be careful."

"I will," he promises. He gives you a small smile, and then replaces his helmet, and you blink, as if waking from a dream.

"Stay inside," he orders, his tone stern. "Lock the doors, and don't open them for anyone but me.”

"Alright."

"Comm me if you need anything," he adds, and the concern in his voice is clear, even through his vocoder. "I'll come back to check on you when I can."

"I'll be waiting," you whisper, and the promise in your voice makes his heart race.

He gives you one last look, his eyes roaming over your face, memorizing every detail. Then, before he can do something stupid, like take his bucket off again and try to kiss you, he turns and walks away.

"Be safe, Fox."

"You too."

And with that, you disappear through the doors, and Fox heads back into the chaos, his heart in his throat.

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