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When he was a cadet on Kamino, he was not the same reg-loving guy. He broke the rules, snuck food, classic cadet behavior.
*Obviously, Tup was his batchmate. They were the closest in their group.
ANYways, in a training sim gone wrong due to their team going off protocol, his entire batch besides he and Tup got killed. Tup suffered a head wound, which while didn’t cause significant damage then, is what got the ball rolling in his chip decaying. Dogma, on the other hand, only had minor damage.
After this, Dogma followed the regs more closely, but it still wasn’t to the full extent as we saw during the show. He stopped sneaking food, and he broke the rules less, but he was still a fun guy.
One day, Dogma accidentally overheard the Kaminoans talking about the chips. He ran away back to his bunk room, but not before being noticed by the Kaminoans.
Dogma was escorted to the lab, where the Kaminoans demanded to know what he had heard. Dogma, knowing better than to lie to a Kaminoan, told them. After gaining this information, they *reconditioned Dogma, but only of the information that they didn’t want him to know. Once the process was over, they threatened harm to his person if he ever told anyone what had just happened.
After this incident, Dogma became more reserved, and only talked to Tup. This is also when he became a target of bullying, which also contributed to his love for regs as they were the only thing (besides Tup) that never hurt him.
A few days before being shipped out to their battalions, the Kaminoans pulled Dogma to the side. As a final effort to scare Dogma into behaving, they threatened to harm Tup and himself if he ever disobeyed commands. After hours of threats and a deep cut curved around his eye (which Dogma eventually got his memorable tattoo to cover) Dogma promised to never speak of what had just happened.
His first battalion was serving with the 501st, and not even a year into his deployment the Umbara arc happened.
*Reconditioning. In this little au, I imagine reconditioning to be somewhat different than what is normally seen in Star Wars fics. The Kaminoans can select what clones can and cannot remember, and to what extent. Reconditioning is very painful and traumatic, and only works when the clone is awake. The more specific an event removal is, the more pain it causes. In Dogma’s case, they knew that removing his entire encounter with overhearing the Kaminoans would be useless, and cause eventual suspicion, so they just took out the part where Dogma heard what they were discussing.
+Something to note: the more a clone is reconditioned, the less stable their chip becomes. That’s why more clones are decommissioned than reconditioned, as the Kaminoans didn’t want their plans to be revealed. In Dogma’s case, after he was reconditioned, his chip stability decreased. During Umbara, Krell noticed something weird with Dogma, and when he did some force shit and found a link to manipulate Dogma using his chip (not that Krell new that’s what it was) he used this newfound knowledge for his own gain. He now had a clone that would listen to his command, and he could destruct the clones’ trust in one another. Throughout this all, Dogma was unaware of his or Krell’s actions, and only came to when Rex was hesitating to shoot Krell. After he shot Krell, his memories came rolling in, about what he did and what Krell did to him and everything else he witnessed during the Umbara arc.
If anyone wants to write something about this go ahead! Just put the fic and where I can find it in the comments so I can read it :)
I felt that I made too many people cry on my JayBart oneshot 'Warm Bodies', so I thought I'd rectify that with more tears. So, here's Part Two!
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Jason was angrier these days. Love and loss do that to a person. He walked around Gotham with tension in his posture, menacing intent with his every step. His gaze was hard and distant, scaring anyone to be the subject of their attention.
Even those that didn’t know him personally could tell he was very troubled. Tortured by things he’s been through, or rather went through. Haunted by a ghost of his past.
You look so grumpy today, did you accidentally drink orange juice after you brushed your teeth again? A voice whispered from the empty space beside him that used to be filled with sunshine. He didn’t answer.
Whispers went around Gotham about his drastic change. Jason was never a delicate flower, but he was so much more violent. Fights went on longer, drawn out for the satisfaction of release. Punches less pulled. Bullets wasted where they were saved and strategically shot before. More blood on his hands than ever.
His brothers tried to reach out and comfort him in one way or another, but he’d shoot down their every attempt with vehemence. They didn’t understand, they wouldn’t. How could they? How can you look at someone and tell them your entire world was ripped from you? How do you explain how vital it was to have someone at your side, and how suffocating it was when they were gone? How does he tell them he loved so deeply— mind, body, and soul— and that all those things died alongside his person?
I know what’ll cheer you up, let’s go to the library. I’ll help you find a new book to distract you. The black hole where his universe used to be speaks again, filling the space before vacuuming it away again. Jason doesn’t listen.
He doesn’t know why he can still hear his voice. Still feel his phantom touches, or see a flash of golden eyes. He didn’t care. He wanted them to stop, stop trying to replace what he lost, but he also wanted to gather everything he had left of him and never let him go again.
It didn’t matter where he went, the void would follow. It was like he could feel him walking at his side, but where he was all warmth and light, the space he left was cold and desolate. It played the imitation game well, but nothing could replace Bart.
You shouldn’t glare so much, it’ll permanently stick to your face. I think I already see frown lines. It says again, this time accompanied by a gentle breeze ghosting over his temple. A finger poking him attached to nothing.
Jason flinches back and blinks rapidly to clear the image of a teasing smile from his vision. “Stop that.” He grumbles, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, brute-forcing his way forewards like he needed the extra push to carry on.
So he does speak. What’s got you so grumpy today? Bart’s echo falls back into step with him as if nothing changed. For a moment, Jason blanks and wishes nothing ever had. He only allows himself a moment at a time to break and rebuild in the next second. A crash of tides before the Ocean calms once more.
He doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t stop the torture.
Did Bruce do something? Bart pesters, unfazed by the lack of response. No, let me guess. Dick was a dick? The soft sound of a chuckle carries on the wind and vanishes in its current. Jason ignores the stabbing pain when it almost makes him smile.
You can talk to me, you know. About anything. I’m always right here for you. But that was his problem, wasn’t it? Jason wasn’t upset at Bruce, or Dick. He was angry at the world for taking his.
He stops walking, not bothering to turn and talk to the space he knew would be empty. “But you aren’t here.” He speaks to the sky, fighting the rush of emotion that well up. “I can’t talk to you. I won’t get to ever again.” his control relinquishes and he’s left staring at the clouds, vision blurry with tears. His palms sweat, as does his forehead. His throat closes tightly, chest crushing with the weight of heartbreak.
He can’t look, not when he knows he won't see anything there.
Don’t be silly, Jay. I’m always right here. The void answers, whispering sweet nothings. Soft assurances to get him to give in to the darkness, be consumed by its nothingness. Maybe if he lets it swallow him whole, he could be with the real Bart again.
“I need you to come back to me,” Jason croaks around the lump in his throat, swaying in place as the energy is sucked out of him, leaving a hollow shell of a man that can barely stand on his own two feet.
It’s quiet for a bit, nothing but the sound of Jason’s sobs and sniffles until the darkness edges closer. Call out for me, Jay. It beckons. Come on, let it out. Yell so loud the Gods can hear you.
And he does. The very force of his anguished shout brings him to his knees. He screams until his throat is hoarse and even when it hurt, he continues. Even when he didn’t have breath in him, he pushes more and falls forwards, face pressed to the dirt. He didn’t stop until he was sure every deity out there could feel his pain and felt the guilt for taking the most precious thing the Earth had to offer him.
A crackle of thunder and flash of lightning broke through his clenched eyelids for a split second, as if Zeus himself responded to his screams. The noise was nothing compared to the rush of blood in his ears. He couldn’t feel anything except cold and alone.
This time when the void came back to comfort him, he struggled to get away. He didn’t want the chilled touch to replace the memory of Bart’s warm one. That was too far for him. He wouldn’t let that happen.
A hand reached out from the void and wiped his tears away, his eyes snapping open at the unexpected touch. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t the breeze. It wasn’t cold.
“I’m right here.” Bart smiles through tears, stumbling into Jason’s arms and holding him so tightly they molded together. Not even air dared to get between them.
“How?” Jason struggles to find the words, but he didn’t need them to return the tight embrace with an even stronger squeeze. He didn’t need an answer, he had his world in his arms again and nothing has ever felt so right.
“You brought me back.” Bart strokes the back of his head like he used to, gently applying pressure on the back of his neck just like he’d done so many times on nights the guilt and hurt became too much. “But I never went far. You never spoke back to me.”
Jason choked on a sudden sob, tightening his arms around Bart and rocking their bodies in tandem. His speedster never left him. It was always him. It wasn’t his mind playing tricks, it was him.
“I’m sorry,” Jason begs for forgiveness, burying his face into Bart’s neck. He felt like he was on his knees in a Chapple, asking a God to forgive his digressions. The sin of love over life.
“Don’t get sappy on me now, slick. At least take me home first.” Bart jokes, and it was perfect. Jason didn’t think he’d ever hear that quick wit again. But now he has eternity to appreciate all of it all over again.
His speedster was home right here in his arms.
(Originally posted on AO3 by me/aka user CrashCityCentral)
The last thief was knocked out with a swift knee to his face and he fell limp. The distant sirens caught the vigilante’s attention and he let go of the KOd criminal’s hair, dropping him to the ground then slumped into the shadows, hoisting himself up a fire escape and to the rooftop overlooking the dark alleyway where the fight took place. He peered over the edge to the carnage he left behind; a group of 8, 6 men and 2 women, unconsciously strewed across the alley floor, all petty thefts and wanna-be big shots. He left once he made sure none of them woke back up and the police were close enough. He never bothered staying around for these moments, the police were looking for him too. He didn’t always keep his opponents alive. But, like any other corny romance novel, he met someone and they changed him. For the better, which he honestly thought was impossible until that point. He didn’t look back again and instead traveled through the city by rooftop. It was just about time to hang up his helmet for the night.
He jumped from building to building, the close proximity of the cities structures making it perfect for travel. Once he was close enough to his current safe house, he dropped down to the streets and ducked into a darker part of the backend allies where he pulled a bag from a hidden spot. He opened it, stripping his chest plate off and stuffing it inside. He then reached around his head to press two switches on either side of his helmet and slowly pull it off revealing his face. Jason Todd.
Jason slung the bag over his shoulders, now casually dressed in a tank-top and his suit pants, walking back to the main roads and towards the direction of his safe house, acting as casual as ever. This had been his constant routine. Once at the door, he pulled his keys out and unlocked a padlock that kept a latch shut. When the latch was opened he entered a six-digit code the door clicked and was pushed open. From where his warehouse was there was a glimpse of moonlight shining through the windows and now open the door, with only his shadow blocking out the only source of light in the dark room. Jason closed the door again slowly and tried not to make a sound as he locked it once more and put his keys on a nearby table. The room was a deafening silence, almost making his ears ring. It wasn’t always this quiet. He moved to hang up his gear and walked further into the house. His movements were slow, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was tired or sore from fighting. It could be both. He let out an exhausted sigh before reaching the bedroom, moving the door handle slowly so the creaking wouldn’t disrupt the silence. There was a figure on the bed, laying there and waiting for him. It didn’t move when he came fully into the room and shut the door or took off his boots. It didn’t move until he walked over and was hovering over the bed and sat on the edge.
“Hey, Bart,” Jason said without even bothering to look at the boy laying down beside him.
“Welcome home, Jay,” Bart replied, with his usual animated grin. Though it was dark, Jason could practically see that smile. Something about the way he says it now makes it sound rehearsed. It was the same reply Jason got every time he came back, followed by the usual questions asked at rapid-fire. “How did it go? Did you kick ass? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt,” Jason said, his reply just as practiced. He didn’t bother answering the other two. He couldn’t. He just stared at the same place he zoned into when he sat down.
“You seem sad. What’s wrong?” Bart asked. Though he didn’t hear it, Jason could feel Bart move closer.
“You know what’s wrong.” The silence was too much. It was all wrong. All of it.
“What do you mean, Jay?” Bart’s voice still feigned the innocent confusion it always had.
Jason loved that about him. He loved how confused Bart got sometimes. When Bart gets too confused he gets frustrated and makes this cute pouty face and his leg bounces more violently the longer he thinks. It was just so him .
“Please don’t act like you don’t know.” Jason’s tone was nothing but pain. His voice was leveled but his mind was anything but. It’s been a long night.
“What’s wrong?” There he goes again. Those same routine lines. Those same replayed words. Those same concerned eyes.
Jason refused to look at those eyes. He knew if he did he’d cave and just accept this. But he couldn’t.
“You need to leave, Bart.” He swallowed hard, regretting the words but not taking them back either. This needed to happen. For both of them.
“I don’t understand.” the smile in Bart’s voice was gone. What was left was just concern. Jason cried.
The first few tears slipped out unannounced until they all just started pouring out. Tears and broken sobs. He wiped them away quickly, eyes screwed shut. There was a tingling sensation like someone had grazed their fingers lightly, over his cheek. His hand was so cold.
“Don’t cry, Jaybird.” Bart soothed. Jason reminded himself he couldn’t look. If he looked it became real.
“Please stop, Bart. Just go.” He rubbed his eyes. The ear-ringing silence came back. In the back of his mind, Jason knew he’d be back, just like he always is. But he was alone for now, his thoughts leaving him in peace until the next time. He opened his eyes.
Jason felt like crying again. He didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to tell Bart to leave. He wanted nothing more than to cave in and just collapse, letting Bart’s words soothe everything away and kiss him until he didn’t feel anything but loved. To listen to his rambles again and be praised with every villain he didn’t kill.
He wanted all of that back, he wanted his speedster.
Whatever his mind was doing to him was sick. Bart was dead. He has been for some time.
Fire In These Hills
“Why are you like this ?”
I turn towards the voice.
“I don’t know. I never knew.” I sigh. “I guess I was always this way.” I hear them hum.
“But why ?”
I don’t know how to answer. Why am I the way I am ? That’s the question of my life. I’m insecure, I never know what I want, I don’t really understand other people. Yeah. I’m weird. And the worse ? I know that. And I know that people look at me weirdly because of it. But here I am. Still here, after 20 years of this.
“I don’t know.”
There’s no one with me. I know I’m imagining this voice. I know I’m trying to cope with everything going on in my life. I had to change everything. My friends. Where I live. How I live. So, I don’t have time to ask myself why. And yet, here we are. I’m imagining a voice to answer that very question. Right now, I just want to go back home, and let myself not think. Let myself be myself. But I can’t. I’m stuck here, and I’m sick. I can feel my body temperature rise. And I just want to go home…
“You must have a reason ?”
I sigh again. Do I ? Do I need a reason to be myself ? To be weird ? I don’t think so. But if I need to find one ? Well, I would say that it all came from my childhood. The way my parents treated me. Telling me they treated my brother and I the same way. What kind of bullshit is this ? Some big ones. They never treated us the same. Every time he’s sick, or hurt, or doesn’t like to do something ? Well, let strong and younger brother do the work, right ? Yeah well that only works for some time, before crumbling down.
“I told you. I don’t know.”
And that is true. I was always kind of like this. I could blame the ADHD, the autism. But in reality, I know it must actually be the anxiety.
“Are you sure ?”
I close my eyes. I know a part of it.
“I… I miss them. They’re not gone, but gone at the same time. They… They take so much out of me. I don’t know why, but they sometimes make me feel like I’m not worth it. That, maybe I’m not enough. Or maybe I’m too much. I put so much efforts. I put so much effort in everything. They know it. I feel so powerfully. And yet I am let yearning for scratch. Am I not worth a bit of effort ? Is our friendship this easily forgotten ?”
I start to feel my eyes water. There’s a fire in my soul now.
“Would you like more ?”
Would I like more ? I want more ! I need more ! I’m not just a kid who’s insecure now, I’m a young adult, constructing myself. I need my best friend around. Even if it’s just a few messages here and there. But I have to yearn for scratch. And I feel like I’m going to have enough of scratch.
“Of course I’d like more. I’d love more. I need more. But how could I be so selfish, right ?”
“I know.”
“I’m so tired. Can I please come home ?”
This feeling. I’m exhausted. But kind of in the good way. I am shaking like a leaf. Home. My home is the people I love. I feel at home with them.
“If you can. If they will let you.”
It’s true. I could come home to my friend. If they let me one day. If they open the door once more. I keep a sob. I won’t cry for something that might be nothing. I’m shaking so much. I can’t feel the world. I need my home. I need my friends. I know myself. I don’t trust myself.
But after everything you’re here with me still. Or at least I hope you’re still with me. I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I feel like we’re growing farther apart, when you were once my rock. I feel like I’m not strong enough to just suck it up as usual. I need you. I need my friend. I need my best friend.
“So why do I feel like they’ve abandoned me ?”
“I cannot tell you.”
Right. ‘cause that’s just the little voice in my head making me go through my emotions. I take a deep breath, still shaking. My body is so full of emotions. I can’t handle them. I don’t know how to handle them. That’s why I need my friends. That’s why it hurts so deeply.
I feel like I might wreck this home. Do I really want to let go of all those years ? Fuck no. Am I ready to wreck this home ? Fuck no. Will I have to ? Maybe. And that’s what hurts the most !
“I really just want to come home. I really just want to go home. But right now, I don’t know where home is.”
“You’ll find home where you need it.”
I know that. But I don’t want to. I want the comfort of my home. I want the comfort that my friend still wants to talk to me. I want the comfort I felt younger. I want the innocence of those quiet moments. I want to feel that again. Is that to much to ask for ? Am I really worth all that ? Everyone tells me that, yes I do. But am I strong enough to believe them ?
“I don’t think that I’m strong enough.”
“You’ll find the strength to face it. You’ve faced much more.”
Maybe. But maybe that’s my limit. Is it ? I don’t even know if I hope it is. I just want to come home. I think I’ve lost the will.