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ireadwithmyears · 10 months

Text

address the letters: “to the holes in my butterfly wings”

pairing: Kix and GN padawan reader (platonic)

Word count, guys it’s basically 10 K 💀bc apparently I am in capable of writing anything short.

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of blood and injury, medical procedures

summary:

In which, the CMO of Torrent Company discovers that you, a Padawan under his care have been hiding injuries and skipping medical checks, and now must take care of you as you suffer the consequences of your actions.

Also known as

Why you should never hide an injury from Kix. he will find out, and he will drag you off to the medbay so that he can take care of whatever mess you’ve made of yourself, scolding you all the wile.

“Look what I found on my bunk.”

You’re interrupted from eating your sandwich in the Cantina when Fives plops down beside you at the table, setting down a tray of food and waving a pink slip of paper in your face.

You’re about to tell him that “Can’t you see that you’re eating and get this paper out of my face,” when your eyes catch on three words written in bold text across the top of the page.

Mandatory vaccination updates.

The sandwich, that up until this point has been the absolute centre of your attention, listen, you’re fighting a war and you have to appreciate any opportunity that you get to eat food that isn’t bland ration bars, drops out of your suddenly limp hand as you snatch up the paper, now very interested in the contents.

“When did you get this?” you ask slowly, you’re voice distracted, beginning to chew on your lower lip, already feeling the nervous coil in your stomach.

“When I came back to my bunk after the debriefing we had this afternoon. Apparently everyone got one. I bet you 10 credits that your master is going to pretend that he didn’t see it, and try and avoid it until Kix has to tear apart the ship looking for him and drag him to the medbay.” Fives chuckles.

Master Skywalker’s reputation for trying to avoid the medbay at all costs is widely known throughout Torrent Company..

“Kix is going to have a field day. I’ll give it to general Skywalker, he has some creative hiding places,” he continues, eyes lighting up at the memory of Anakin, half hazardously crammed into a supply closet, folded in an impressive, yet uncomfortable looking position as he forced his unwitting tall limbs to fit in the cramped space.

Unfortunately for Kix, your masters habit of avoiding the medbay whenever possible has rubbed off on you, though, you don’t think it’s for the same reason. Your avoidance stems from a place of fear, and, okay, a stubborn insistence that you can take care of yourself, which yes, definitely like master, like apprentice.

But that also stems from a fear. You’re determined to prove yourself, especially being a young Padawan working with those who are much more experienced than you. You don’t want to risk being taken off the field because of some stupid injury, and letting those who rely on you down, especially your master, who’s always bouncing back and getting up and ready to take on whatever is next regardless of what kind of peril he’s just come out of. You want, you need, to prove that just because you’re a Padawan, you’re not a liability, but an asset. You can be strong and resilient like master Skywalker.

So, you avoid. You dodge and you ignore and you pretend not to notice when the routine medical check dates come and go without your attendance. You know it’s only a matter of time before Kix gets on your ass about it. You’re surprised that you’ve kept it up this long. But, this only bolsters your confidence in being able to avoid another successfully.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, setting the paper back down on the table before you run off into the crowd.

Sure enough, there is an identical slip of paper that’s been placed on your bunk. But conveniently, Jedi master Aayla Secura is going on a diplomatic mission to amid rim planet in a last ditch effort to try and convince them not to secede from the republic during the date that’s listed on the page when you’re scheduled for your vaccinations.

Earlier this morning, master Skywalker had asked if you had wanted to join this mission, saying that it would give you a break from being on the frontlines, and it would be easy enough to arrange, as master Secura would rendezvous with the 501st before she departed.

This morning, you had turned him down, listing several reasons as to why you needed to stay with the 501st. Your troops needed you, diplomatic missions were boring anyways, and you didn’t think that you would be of much help to the experienced and capable master Secura, who was a formidable diplomat in her own right. You didn’t think you would be able to add anything of particular value to the conversation, at least nothing that master Secura wouldn’t be able to say much more eloquently and better.

Now though, the only thing that’s running through your mind is the fear of needles and the dread of going into the medbay and that’s enough to make you reconsider everything you had said.

When you tell master Skywalker that you’ve changed your mind, and would actually like to accompany Aayla on her mission, he’s slightly confused considering you had been so adamant that you were needed here only just a few hours ago.

But, he knows that as a Jedi, you need diplomatic experience. Experience that, before the war, would be very easy for Padawan’s to come by. He knows that you don’t have nearly as much as you should.

These are unprecedented times, though, and Padawan’s being trained during an active war is not ideal. He wants for you to be well-rounded. He has hope that your future won’t always involve war at the centre of it, and any opportunity that you get to learn how to be a keeper of peace should always be encouraged, especially during these times.

So he gives in pretty easily, and when master Secura arrives, you happily join her. When the ramp of the ship seals behind you and you’re sitting with her in the cockpit, the warm relief that flows through your bones is palpable.

“Success,” you think to yourself triumphantly.

Your triumph, however glorious it might have felt in the moment, is short-lived.

In spite of the fact that some old injuries, that you honestly thought you had done a pretty good job at taking care of yourself, were starting to aggravate you again, the unexpected joy and relief that weaved itself through the force, openly shared between you and master Secura, surrounded you like a warm blanket, protecting you from feeling the things that hurt you.

The planet you had just visited had agreed to stay with the republic, after a tense three days of debate between its political factions. The victory Was a surprise, considering how vehemently the opposition pushed to secede, but it was not unwelcome.

Aayla’s T-6 shuttle docks in the hanger bay of the much larger 501st transport. As you wait for the doors to open and the ramp to fold down before you, you’re still riding on that high, feeling, for the first time in a long time, the thrill of a success. One that you are unable to feel on the frontlines, because even when your battles result in a victory, you are surrounded by so much death and violence that in the end, you don’t really feel like celebrating.

You’ll never admit it to your master, but privately, you think to yourself that maybe diplomatic missions aren’t as boring as you thought they were. You were able to help resolve a conflict, peacefully, without even having to brush your fingers against the hilt of your lightsaber, which, nowadays, is becoming more and more of a rare occurrence. But it’s what Jedi do, or at least, what they’re supposed to do, so you have to embrace the gratitude of the experience you just had, and try and take it with you going forward.

Your thoughts are preoccupied with these ideas swirling around your head, so you don’t see him until you’re stepping out onto the ramp of the T-6, descending into the hectic and busy as usual crowds of the hanger bay.

When you do, though, you stop dead, and your heart begins to race.

Shit.

Directly in front of you, at the bottom of the ramp, stands Kix.

One look at his expression, and your stomach flips.

His lips are set in a thin, unreadable line, his brow creased as he observes you with pinpoint focus. Stern, brown eyes observe your every movement. There’s no question that the second you step off the ramp, he’s going to pounce on you like a cat seizing a mouse.

He stands at attention, body forced into an unbending straight line, such positions you mostly see on the shiny’s, new troopers who are freshly trained during their first days out on the field. His hands are placed on his hips, the position that he assumes before he’s about to give someone, it’s usually your master who you’ve seen it directed at, the lecture of their life.

“Keep moving,” your brain supplies. “Act nonchalant, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be fine.”

You feel your feet hit solid ground, and your speed picks up, all along, your brain is screaming at you to move. It’s weird how now that he’s standing in front of you, every injury you’ve accumulated over the past weeks is beginning to hit you, all comfort and protection that the force has been giving you to keep you going rapidly vanishing with each step you take.

The uncomfortable angle that your shoulder is sitting at, the pulling of stitches in your leg as you increase your speed. It throbs and aches with sudden abandon. But your fists clench, and you do your best not to falter under Kix’s unwavering scrutiny, just knowing that he’s looking for any flicker of weakness, any sign of pain that registers on your face.

“Just keep going, and maybe, you’ll be able to slip past...”

He steps in front of you, reaching an arm out to easily intercept your path. He says your name, in a tone that breaches absolutely no room for trying to ignore it.

You jump, startled in spite of yourself. He’s effectively got you cornered, and seeing that there’s no way out of this, Your nerves begin to skyrocket, raising like the sound of alarm bells in your head. You look up, eyes meeting his unwaveringly stern expression, And suddenly, you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

He looks down at you, and he must see something in your disposition that belies your true feelings, because though his face remains set, his eyes somewhat soften, and when he next speaks, his voice is quiet but firm.

“Come with me, please. I need to see you in the medbay.” Though he’s phrased it as a request, you know that it is an order, and one that you must follow.

As a medic for the GAR, and this is something that you’ve heard him say to many a complaining troopers being escorted to the medbay when they don’t want to go, it is well within his rights to exercise such authority and make these orders. Because when it comes to the health and safety of every 501st personnel, whether you’re a Jedi general, commander, or Padawan, Kix immediately outranks you.

You look down at the floor, suddenly finding the marks that are speckled across it very interesting, and mumble a defeated and quiet “Yes sir.”

When he turns, and you hesitate to follow, he lets out a gentle sigh, moving to place a hand on the small of your back. His voice is low, but reassuring as he ushers you forward.

“Come on, kid, you’re okay,” he breathes, and in spite of the fact that you’re still thinking that jumping out of an airlock would be better than this, your feet, still unwilling, but the slightest bit reassured, begin to move.

Coric giving you a subtle pitying glance as he’s reading over a patient’s chart when Kix escorts you into the medbay makes you want to vomit.

Between the two medics, Kix has the reputation of being a hardass because he’s the CMO. Make no mistake, you do not want to get on either of their bad sides. But, given the choice between the two right now, you think you’re more equipped to handle Coric, who can usually be counted on to soften the blow a bit, with enough pleading glances and apologies.

Your eyes flit to the door that you’ve just passed through, because stupidly, your brain is still trying to make the calculations that if you can just duck out of Kix’s grasp for two seconds, you’d be able to make a run for it.

Unbeknownst to you, however, both medics have been carefully observing your every movement since you’ve entered. Coric, remaining completely calm and at ease, rises to his feet, moving swiftly to stand in the doorway in several long strides. He casually leans against the frame, arms folded.

“Don’t even think about it, baby Jedi. Your master has attempted the same thing you are considering, and he has always failed,” he says, keeping his voice light and non-threatening, making it clear that you need to give up on your fantasy of bolting out of here, but also not trying to scare you off..

You’re just beginning to wonder how the kriff they were able to read you so easily, with one covert glance determining that you were about to bolt when Kix removes his hand from the small of your back, instead, fingers coming to gently grip your shoulder.

The change in his hold is obvious. He is fully prepared for if you try to run. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, in what you interpret as a warning not to.

Unfortunately, he’s just touched on an injury, you’re not entirely sure what you did, but you messed up your shoulder the last time you were on the field, and even the slight pressure elicits a sharp intake of breath that you’re unable to stop from escaping your lips, and that immediately has the attention of both medics laser focussed on you.

Kix’s anticipation evaporates and quickly melts into concern. Carefully, so carefully, he turns you to face him, keen eyes sharp as they analyze your face.

“Hey,” he calls softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Tell me where it hurts,” he says, so gently that it makes your eyes burn with shame. You look down at your feet.

“That’s uh... that’s, a loaded question,” you admit sheepishly, trying to keep your tone light and joking, in spite of the fact that now that you’re thinking about it, the list of injuries you’ve sustained without reporting to the medbay is a lengthy one, and might make Kix have a stroke.

Kix lets out a controlled, slow breath, eyes momentarily finding the ceiling as he silently begs the stars to give him strength.

“Kaysh Mirsh solus,” he mutters to himself.

You’ve heard Kix toss that phrase around the medbay on multiple occasions, and though you’re uncertain of what it actually means, he usually brings it out when one of his brothers has done something that he would consider incredibly stupid, which is often.

Coric makes a noise of agreement. “It appears that our stupidly self-sacrificing general has passed on his stupid self sacrificing behaviour onto his apprentice,” he groans. “Will we ever know a day of peace?”

Kix looks back down at you, his expression calm and restrained. “Come on, then, let’s see what we’re dealing with here,” moving his hand to your uninjured shoulder, he steers you both further into the medbay.

Your eyes don’t leave the ground, but you can hear the sound of a privacy curtain being pulled shut around the cubicle that Kix has brought you to.

When an eerily familiar pink slip of paper is being held up in front of your downcast eyes, you cringe, Arms wrapping around yourself in defence

You can’t even pretend that you haven’t seen it before, because the words mandatory vaccination updates have been circling around your brain the whole time you were out on your last mission.

“Do you know why the GAR enforces these?” Kix begins, and his voice is too measured and calm.

You lift a brow, questioning. Does he seriously expect you to answer this? Isn’t the answer obvious?

“Uh... so that we don’t get sick?” You answer, uncertain as to what he’s getting at.

He nods, his face displaying a slight flicker of approval. “Yes, that is one reason as to why, and it’s an acceptable one,” he acknowledges. His frown deepens as he continues. “However, one must look at the much larger picture, at every personnel aboard this ship. The most important reason why mandatory vaccinations are enforced is so that we can avoid many people getting sick and spreading illness to the rest of the crew, so that we may remain fully functional and operational, continuing to serve and protect the people of the republic.”

You squirm beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. You’re starting to see where he’s going with this, and it’s incredibly discomforting.

“I would’ve thought, that as a Jedi, you would be able to more easily see this bigger picture than most others,” he observes mildly. “After all, I know, and I’m sure everyone who spends a considerable amount of time with you can see that there is so much compassion and care for others within your very nature.”

His voice is so genuine, laced with such real kindness in his tone that it makes your eyes sting. Your heart constricts, because he’s just pointed out something that you hadn’t even considered in your selfish haste to avoid this.

By avoiding your vaccinations, you have put every member of the 501st who works with you in danger.

Your arms wrap tighter around yourself, and you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but at the pristine white floor beneath your feet.

Kix senses that he’s hit a mark, and his voice gentles considerably. “I also understand that you are young, and still learning to see the bigger picture and how your actions can affect those around you.”

“I, I didn’t, I was scared and I just I didn’t think about...” your voice trembles as you try to answer, tumbling out in a rush of words that race as quickly as your heart.

“I understand, and it is perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way,” he keeps his voice level and measured. “However,” he continues, and you know what he’s about to say even before he says it. “We still have to face the things that scare us. If you had simply told me how you were feeling, we would have figured out a way to navigate it.” His face is reassuring when you dare to glance up from the floor that you’ve been resolutely staring at for this whole conversation.

“We still will figure out the best way to proceed. However, these vaccination updates are very low on my priority list of concerns when it comes to you, compared to this,” and he holds up a datapad, displaying medical records with your name typed neatly across the top.

The last several appointment entries are highlighted in red, indicating that you did not attend any of them.

“Do I need to remind you that these appointments are not optional. Any member of Torrent Company who goes out on the field must report to the medbay upon return for examination, as well as attend our regular medical checks to ensure that you are fit for active duty.” It’s clear from the tone of his voice that this is a lecture that he is very practised in delivering.

You lift your head, finally looking directly at him. He’s already made you admit a fear that you desperately wanted to keep to yourself. You try and summon what remains of your dignity.

“What do you want me to say, Kix?” There’s a hint of defiance in your voice.

“Do you want me to admit that I avoided these because I had injuries that I didn’t want you to know about? Because yes, the truth is that I did.” Your eyes level with his as you try to make him understand.

“I was scared of the medical procedures, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” You snap, not particularly annoyed with him, but more annoyed at the fact that your answers sound so stupid out loud.

“But I was more scared of the fact that you were probably going to take me off the field, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t let that happen. My master was relying on me. Everyone was relying on me, and I couldn’t let them down.” You try to shrug off his concern with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Besides, I’ve been doing fine,” you say evasively.

Kix does not rise to the bate of your seeming anger. He’s much too practised and controlled to let it affect him. He also has the uncanny ability to look at someone, and see everything, read through their feelings, whether they’ve been acknowledged or not, and understand them. So, even though you’re trying to push him away, with what at first glance appears to be frustration, underneath it all, he can tell that it’s just as plainly fear.

He meets your storm filled eyes unflinchingly, levelling you with a look that is equal parts stern and unwavering, and equal parts concerned and filled with compassion. It makes your insides twist with guilt, and you want to look away, but you can’t bring yourself to as he speaks, his voice calm but steely.

“Are you fine?” he asks, an eyebrow raising as he tilts his head to look at you, his gaze clinical, assessing, even as you just stand there in front of him.

. “I already know that there’s something wrong with your shoulder. But aside from that, I’ve been observing you since you got off your transport. The way you move is slow and careful, not at all like the usual way you dash around the ship. Even now, you’re hesitating to put much weight on your right leg.” He ticks off the things he’s noticed on his fingers like a list.

“Apart from the fact that skipping these mandatory appointments have consequences. If you had kept this up, I would’ve had to bring this to our superiors, that includes the Jedi council,” he gives you a pointed look, even the mention of the high Council makes you shiver. in your experience, whenever you and your master have been summoned to speak with the council, it’s always to be reprimanded, and never good.

. “You could have been Court-martialed,” he says, knowing that his words will hit the severity of the situation home.

You falter, stepping back as you feel your eyes go wide. “Court-martialed?” you breathe, feeling the blood draining from your face.

He gently takes your arm, guiding you to sit on a bed as he continues, voice softening. “It is very clear that you are hiding injuries, and though I can understand why, in premise, You did this, the reality is that this will begin to affect your performance in battle. It will not just affect you. You will put yourself, as well as the entirety of the people you are leading, in danger. People could get hurt. You could get hurt. Because you would be putting not just yourself, but others, in unnecessary danger, your ability to be in the position of a commander could be called into serious question by your superiors, and for good reason”

As much as he keeps his voice low and calm, you can sense that he’s disappointed in the way that you’ve handled yourself. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, forcing the tears that prick at the back of your eyes to not fall. You hate disappointing people, and the fact that you’ve managed to disappoint Kix, one of the kindest people you know, makes you want to curl up into a ball and never show your face in public again.

“And that, the safety of yourself, and everyone aboard this ship, is my priority. It is much more important to me than having to report to any superior. The fact that you hold your safety, and by extension, the safety of those around you, with such blatant disregard, is what concerns me the most, and that is what I need you to understand.”

There’s a certain gravity in his voice that you’ve never heard before, but it slams into your chest and hits you like a ton of bricks. The implications of what you’ve been doing, of what could have happened to those around you, to his brothers, because of your inability to face your fears begin to swirl around your head with a rapidity that makes your heart race.

These thoughts come unbidden, and too fast for you to process. The tears, that you’ve been so desperately trying to push back, spring free and begin to fall down your cheeks, unprompted, slowly, and silently. You don’t have time to stop them from coming.

Kix knows that he’s been very direct, and very blunt with you, deciding that this would be the only way to get through to you. He hates having to do it, though. Kix considers himself to be a fairly good judge of character, and he knows that you have such a caring, gentle heart and strong presence wherever you go. So, watching you break in front of him like this pains him.

Your breath hitches in an unsteady gasp as you look up at him, tears blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry, Ori’vod,” your lip trembles as your voice breaks, wanting to curl in on yourself. “Ni ceta,” you get out in barely a choked whisper.

But he hears you, and it breaks him.

You’ve never referred to him as ori’vod before, and the idea that you consider him as such, as a big brother, awakens his protective, instinctive nature to gather you close and keep you safe from harm.

His Vod, mostly his batchmate, Jesse, calls it his mother hen instincts.

He can’t help it, though. Your voice, sounding so much smaller than he’s ever heard it, trembling and filled with tears, has broken what’s left of his resolve, and gently, very gently, mindful of the fact that you’re injured, he takes you into his arms, holding you close to him. Your head buries against his shoulder, and he easily cradles you there, feeling every sharp intake of breath as you cry.

“Oh, adika, shh,” he soothes, hand coming up to gently stroke your hair as he continues to speak softly to you. “You’re okay, I promise, everything is going to be alright. I’ve got you, we are going to sort this out.”

“Well,” he says, reading over the results of the medical scan he’s just performed. Would you believe me if I told you that a dislocated shoulder is the least of your concerns?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, and you exhale a slow breath before asking, “how bad?”

He keeps his voice neutral as he relays the results of the scan to you. “According to your last medical check, you were diagnosed with Iron deficiency anemia, not incredibly uncommon, what with our limited access to rations and food with the proper nutrients,” his brow creases as he continues. “However, preliminary scans indicate that your haemoglobin levels haven’t much improved.”

He gives you a look.“You have been taking the supplement you were prescribed?” he asks, in a way that makes you suspicious that he already knows that the answer is no.

You avoid looking at him. “I was, but they kept making my stomach feel queasy all day, so I stopped.”

Kix Lets out a long suffering sigh. “An issue that we easily could have rectified by changing your treatment plan if you had just let us know,” he scolds. “Nonetheless, I’d like to do a blood test to get exact confirmation of those levels and see how bad the numbers are so that we can Start getting them back up to baseline.”

Your stomach does a flip and you cringe silently at the mention of a blood test.

Kix continues, consulting the scan results that are displayed on a datapad. “You’ve got untreated burns on your fingers.” He raises a curious eyebrow at you and your cheeks flush.

“They weren’t entirely untreated, I put them under running water,” you try to argue. The unimpressed look he gives you stops you dead in your tracks.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault,” you defend. “I was fixing one of the starfighters that got hit during our last airstrike. I got R2 to help me with the repairs but he wasn’t listening to my instructions. He crossed two of the wrong wires and caused the circuitboard to spark.”

“And that is why you should never ask R2 for help,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Those burns weren’t given time to heal, and the fact that you’re constantly wielding a lightsaber has exacerbated them. I will apply a burn ointment to them that should take away the pain and speed the process of healing.”

He fixes you with a look.

“The most concerning thing is The blaster wound on the front of your right calf. Really, vod, you should know that injuries being treated and stitched up on the field, especially when not done by a medic, always should be looked over by a medic as soon as possible, due to the unsanitary environment that they were performed in.”

“Tup did his best to stitch it,” you say, feeling the need to defend the brother who, in spite of the fact that he was not a medic, sutured you up as you took cover from separatist battle droids.

“I don’t doubt that he did. I was the instructor who took every single one of the troopers on this ship through their mandatory medical courses, and I did not let them pass without proving that they were adequately able to handle emergency first aid on the field. However, it still remains that you’ve picked up an infection, and to treat it, the sutures will have to be removed, the wound reopened, and extraction of the infected tissue, as well as a course of both IV and oral antibiotics to clear up anything that remains.”

You stare at him, your eyes growing wide with horror as he explains. “How?” You ask, alarmed.

He senses your nerves and leans forward, taking your hand and running his thumb along the back of it reassuringly. “This is a surgical procedure, performed under general anesthesia.”

You flinch at his words, and your fingers tighten around his with anxiety, needing something to hold onto.

“I know that sounds scary, especially if you’ve never been put under before. But I promise, this is a fairly common operation. Me and Coric will both be here making sure that you’re okay the whole time.” he continues to stroke his thumb along the backs of your knuckles.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, though. We’ll take care of the things that are manageable, first,” he says, giving you an encouraging smile.

“Hey uh...” you say nervously, watching with anxiety fluttering in your stomach as Kix ties a band just above your elbow, prepping you for the blood draw. The way the band tightens, restricts and squeezes around your arm Makes you feel trapped. You hate it.

“I have... I’ve had, issues in the past when it comes to these,” you say awkwardly, not knowing how to explain.

Kix only looks up at you, raising a perceptive brow. “Are you referring to your predisposition of fainting whenever a blood draw is performed?” he asks, completely unfazed.

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows in questioning. “Don’t worry, Coric already has this listed in your file. I’m going to get you to lie down when we do it.”

He has the sensitivity and grace not to mention the fact that he also knows this because he walked into the medbay to find Coric absolutely tearing into a junior medic for letting you leave too soon after you had gotten a blood draw, resulting in you crumpling to the floor in a faint right outside of the medbay doors.

At your continued staring, he adds, his voice softening. “It’s a normal reaction, that likely is exacerbated because of your low haemoglobin levels. There’s nothing wrong with you, Vod’ika.” he reassures, gently guiding you to lay down on the bed. “Now, just lay down for me, and we’ll get this over with quickly, and if you faint, you faint. It happens, no big deal, I’ll be right here regardless.”

And because you’re you, you do faint.

The needle itself is always not as bad as you anticipate it being. The Sting, though prominent, is small and quick and over before you have time to fixate on it.

It’s only when he’s pressing a cotton swab into the crook of your arm, encouraging you to keep it in place while he puts a Band-Aid over top, that you register the familiar feeling of drowsiness, vision blurring and ears beginning to ring, that always comes before you pass out.

You think that you might give him some indication, some warning, because he’s removing your hand from where it’s been pressing against the cotton round, replacing it with his own, much more steady one. Everything around you is muffled, and it’s jarring, but in a way that is too far away from your immediate concerns to really react to it.

When you come to, he’s pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of your neck, other hand gently stroking hair away from your forehead. His voice fades back into your consciousness, a stream of gentle, soothing words as your eyes flutter open.

The feeling of the cloth cools your heated skin, and the hand gently running through your hair brings your senses back to focus, grounding you.

“Easy, adika, i’m right here, you’re safe,” he brushes his fingers against your cheek, and when you react, leaning into his touch, he gives you a small smile. “That’s it, there we go, you’re back. Everything’s good,” he soothes, gently stalling your movement when you attempt to sit up.

“Not right now, vod, stay down for a few more minutes. I’ve already got the blood work running through the scanner, and we should have its results quickly, okay.” You give him a small nod, still not really having the energy to do much else. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you come back to yourself, and when the scanner beeps, indicating that it completed its diagnostics, you jump slightly.

Kix moves over to check it as you slowly sit up. “Okay, so, your numbers are definitely not nearly where they should be he says, clearly unimpressed.

“But, Once we have taken care of your more serious injuries, will start you with an iron infusion delivered through an IV before transitioning back to pills. Don’t worry, we’ll have you on a much smaller dosage so that we can hopefully circumvent the discomfort you had in your stomach,” he says with optimism, which makes you feel slightly better about the fact that he’s just mentioned an IV. You’re not given much time to fixate on it, though, because he’s already turning away from the scanner, moving back to you.

“Let’s not worry about that right now, though. We have enough problems having to deal with the mess That you’ve made of yourself. I will do my best to resist calling you a di’kut as much as possible,” he says, hands on his hips, and in spite of yourself, it actually makes you laugh.

You didn’t realize how sore and irritated the burns on your hands were until you couldn’t hold back the audible sigh of relief that fell from your lips as soon as Kix began applying the burn cream to them. The pain instantly vanished, leaving a pleasant, cooling sensation behind. He wrapped small bacta patches around your injured fingers, explaining that it would make sure that the healing process was unimpeded by the outside environment.

That was easy, quick, painless.

Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. As soon as Kix touches it, as gentle as he can be, it flares with pain, and your muscles tense, which just makes it worse.

“I don’t know how you’ve been functioning with this for as long as you have,” he comments dryly. When his fingers press against the bone, assessing the damage with a practised familiarity, you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Haar’chak,” you grit out, as behind you, Kix preps a syringe with local anesthetic.

“Which one of my di’kut brothers taught you curse words in Mandoa?” he asks, beginning to disinfect the injection site.

You flinch at the cold and your cheeks flush. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that. I can’t tell you that, I made a promise.”

“Did you now?” he asks, fighting the amused smirk that plays on his lips. “Well, whoever it was, you might as well put your skills that they taught you to use.”

You look at him from over your shoulder, eyebrows raising in confusion.

He explains, “I need to give you an injection of local anaesthetic so that it takes the edge off of resetting your shoulder correctly. I know those aren’t your favourite , so, I am making a deal with you. Let me do this, and I give you free rein to throw whatever Mandoa insult my brothers have taught you at me, no consequences. Is that fair?”

The unimpressed look you’re giving at the syringe turns to surprise, then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face and you nod, quickly looking away from it. “Deal,” you accept, your voice still shaky with nerves but determined.

“Okay, deep breath for me,” He waits for you to inhale. “Perfect, now, on the exhale, give me that insult with all of your might. Ready?”

He waits for you to nod, then prompts you to exhale as he administers the anaesthetic into the back of your shoulder.

“Osi’yaim, that hurt, you di’kut,” what should be just a little pinch to your already injured shoulder makes you cry out the words, and you swear you can hear the familiar sound of Coric laughing from the other side of the medbay.

Your cheeks flush, you did not intend to be that loud. But you don’t apologize, either, and Kix only gives you a rueful grin, nodding in understanding.

As you wait for the anaesthetic to settle, Kix warns, “I’m gonna be honest, kid, because of how long you’ve left this injury to sit, even with the anesthetic, setting it is still going to hurt.”

You close your eyes, grimacing, before nodding with a sigh. “Do your worst,” you say, bracing yourself.

He lays a reassuring hand on your uninjured shoulder. “I need you relaxed, adika,” he says gently. “Trust me, it will only hurt more if you tense like that,” he continues, gently encouraging your shoulder downward with his hand.

“Easy, now. I want you to give me some good deep breath’s. In,” he inhales deeply, holding for a few seconds, “and out,” he lets his breath go in a controlled, slow stream of air.

He waits for you to copy, giving you a few breaths to settle into it as he prepares himself. “Perfect, just like that, keep it up, you’ve got this,” he keeps up the stream of encouraging words as carefully, but firmly, he rotates your arm, guiding your dislocated shoulder back into its proper place with one precise movement.

The sudden flare of pain, even dulled as it is by the anesthetic, takes your breath away momentarily, your vision instantly blurring with tears. When it clears,Kix has shifted to standing in front of you, gently wiping them away with his thumbs.

“Well done, vod’ika, you were so brave,” his words make you want to cry more, because you didn’t think you were brave. You thought that being brave meant confidence, at all times, and not letting other people see your vulnerability. You can’t fully understand it, but, now, you’re beginning to think that maybe your initial idea of bravery was wrong.

Your lip wobbles as you speak, “W what now?” you look up at him with wide, still watery eyes.

He gently strokes your hair. “Now, I’m going to get Coric, and you,” he playfully taps your nose, “are going to take a much-needed nap, if the bags under your eyes are any indication, while we take care of that leg wound.”

It sounds simple enough.

Kix explains the procedure while Coric preps you for surgery, making sure all your vitals are stable. As he wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, he tells you that that’s essentially his job while he’s in here. Throughout the surgery, he will monitor your vitals and make sure that they remain at safe levels.

“I’m going to remove the sutures, clean the wound, remove the infected tissue, pack the wound with saline soaked dressings, then bandage it back up so that it can heal. It goes without saying that you’re going to be off the field for at least a week. You’ll need to stay here so that we can continue to monitor your recovery as well as change the dressings often. You will also need to undergo a course of IV antibiotics to kill off any lingering infection. This will also give us time to get your haemoglobin levels back up with an infusion.”

Your eyes close tightly as anxiety knots your stomach. “Oh, force, a week? But, my master needs me,” you protest.

When your eyes open again, both medics are fixing you with equally stern looks. “Your master needs you to be safe, and healthy,” says Coric, frowning, as he carefully attaches a pulse oximeter to one of your fingers.

“If you want to be back on the field as soon as possible, you will take this week of recovery. If you want to argue with me about it, I will make it longer. A week is the absolute minimum,” Kix says, arms folded across his chest, wearing his signature “i’m the chief medical officer, you have no authority here,” expression.

You visibly deflate, reminding yourself that you pick and choose your battles, and picking and choosing a battle with two medics who are very competent at dealing with very stubborn Jedi would be a very stupid idea.

You can’t help yourself, and in spite of the fact that you shouldn’t, you stare as Kix preps your wrist for an IV line.

Sensing you’re mounting anxiety as your eyes nervously flit around, watching Kix’s Every move, Coric gently takes your other hand, squeezing when your eyes don’t immediately look at him. When you finally tear your eyes away from what Kix is doing, Coric is wearing a mischievous smile on his face. “So, Vod’ika, who taught you how to curse in Mandoa?” he asks, raising a curious brow.

You only scoff, rolling your eyes. “Kix already tried to find out. What makes you think that I’m going to tell that secret to you?”

“I’ve already got my suspicions. My moneys on Echo or Fives.” he gives you a wounded look, “I thought you would tell me, because I’m obviously your favourite.”

Kix uses this conversation to quickly insert the IV into a vein on your wrist. Reacting to the small pinch, your fingers instinctively tighten around Coric’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re definitely my favourite now,” you grumble, giving Kix a sidelong glare.

He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Vod, i’m going to run the medication through the line now. It will act quickly, and when you wake up, this will be all done with.”

You nod, biting your lip nervously. Coric notices, giving your hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey, kid, I know you’ve heard Kix say kaysh mirsh solus all the time. Do you know what it means?”

You look at him with curiosity, shaking your head.

“Well, essentially it means they are stupid or foolish. But, the literal translation is even more direct .” Coric gives you a conspiratorial smile.

“What is it?” You ask as he leans forward.

“The literal translation means their braincell is lonely,” he says, completely serious.

You feel a smile pulling up the corners of your lips and a surprised laugh falls from them.

You feel the medication beginning to enter your system, but you’re so busy laughing that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You better not be bullshitting me,” you threaten,“or I...” you let out a yawn.

“I swear to the force, I,” your eyes begin to flutter and you yawn again, shrugging.

“I’ll think about it later,” you mumble sleepily, before promptly passing out, smile still lighting up your face.

Your leg hurts.

That’s the first thing you become aware of as Kix is gently encouraging you to open your eyes.

“Come on, adika, open your eyes for me,” he says softly, fingers gently brushing against your cheek to bring you back to awareness.

“But it hurts, and I wanna go back to sleep,” you wine, blinking sleepily up at him.

“Ni ceta, vod’ika,” he soothes, fingers gently caressing your forehead in an apology. “I know it hurts, and you can go back to sleep soon, I promise,”

He glances at something that you can’t see, giving a small nod,“Vitals look good, the anaesthesia is wearing off nicely, and it doesn’t appear to have affected them too much. Let’s up that IV dosage,” Kix speaks to Coric, who moves to adjust your IV out of your eyeline.

Your leg throbs, and you let out a stifled whimper, hand reaching down, trying to at least find the source of your pain when Kix catches it in his, gently stalling your movements. “Let’s leave that alone for now, vod’ika. Coric is just increasing your pain med intake, that will make it better. Then you can sleep,”

At the continued expression of pain on your face, he lets go of your hand, fingers gently playing with your hair as he instructs, “nice and easy, adika, deep breath‘s for me, everything’s okay.”

You don’t believe him at first, but slowly, things become okay. The pain quickly fades and dulls , breathing becomes easier, and your eyes begin to flutter. All the while, Kix continues holding his vigil at your bedside, fingers continuing to gently run through your hair until you fall into a natural sleep.

When you properly wake up next, the first thing you notice is that your leg doesn’t hurt anymore.

Whatever pain meds Kix has got you hooked up to are very effective, and your lips pull into a relieved smile.

The second thing you notice, when you glance around to get your bearings, is the face of your very concerned captain, Rex, at your bedside. You blink slowly, yawning. Although the anaesthetic has worn off, the pain meds still have you feeling like you’re in a fog, and your brain is working pretty slowly.

“When did you get here?” you ask, confused.

“I came straight here after you never reported to the bridge for today’s debriefing. The general said that you would be back today, and it’s unlike you to miss or forget about meetings,” he explains, looking at you, relieved to see you awake, but a flicker of concern still lingering in his eyes.

“Osik, sorry, Rex, I got myself into a bit of a bind over here,” you gesture to the IV that you’re hooked up to, chuckling a little.

“So I heard, don’t worry about it, kid. There wasn’t much to report, anyways.” His head tilts, and he raises a questioning eyebrow.“Who taught you how to curse in Mandoa, vod’ika?” he asks, keeping his voice light.

If you weren’t under the influence of pretty heavy duty pain medication‘s, you would have restraint, you would have thought before you opened your mouth. But for Rex, it was his lucky day.

you smirk, “good old Hardcase taught me everything I know,” you say with pride, smiling fondly at the memory.

Rex carefully files that information away so that he can scold Hardcase for that once he leaves. But he carefully keeps his face neutral.

His face grows serious. “Kix told me about all the medical appointments you’ve missed and the injuries that you’ve been covering up,” his voice is stern, every bit the commanding officer that he is in front of the troops. It makes you nervous, and you swallow, looking away from him.

“I swear to the force, if you ever pull something like that again, I will find out about it, and I’ll drag you to the medbay myself, even if it means chasing you around the ship and stunning you if I have to. do you realize how much danger you were in? How much danger you put others in? That was extremely reckless of you, commander. I’m very disappointed in your actions, and it will not happen again, do you understand?”

Your hazy memory recalls the conversation you had with Kix earlier, about this very thing, and for some reason, it hits even harder seeing the disappointment, worry and concern etched on the face of the normally composed captain.

Without prompting, you find yourself bursting into tears.

Later, you’ll blame the pain meds on your inability to keep a grip on your emotions. But right now, all you can do is think about the people, the brothers, you could have hurt, the things that could’ve happened because of you, and the tears just fall down your face, streaming from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, into your ears, dampening your hair.

.“I I’m sorry Captain I I didn’t I,” you gasp out, trying to explain, but your brain is still foggy, only clinging onto the hazy images of loss and pain due to your inability to act fast enough.

There’s a reason why people are convinced that Kix has eyes on the back of his head. Working as the highest ranking medic in the 501st has trained him to be hyper observant of all of his patients, even if he isn’t at their bedside.

So, even though he’s been taking the time to update your file on a datapad, unbeknownst to either you or Rex, he’s also been watching you like a hawk, and the minute you begin to show that you’re overwhelmed, he’s swooping in on the two of you, protective mother hen mode fully activated by the tears falling down your cheeks.

He steps in front of you, broad shoulders immediately blocking your view of your commanding officer. “Captain,” he says, and his voice is still respectful, but there’s a hard edge beneath it, something stern that you haven’t heard before, even during the worst of him lecturing you.

“You are causing undue stress to my patient, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” he continues, physically ushering Rex to the door.

More quietly, out of your earshot, he says,“I have already harshly reprimanded the commander. Trust me, this experience will ensure that the lesson will not be forgotten. Now, if you want to be of use, get the general and bring him to me, please. I need to speak with him. Between you and me, Rex, I’m blaming this ordeal on him.”

Rex begins to make an objection, but Kix is already turning away, folding his arms. “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of council meetings. His Padawan is more important,” he shoots back, before quickly moving back to your side, all of his hard lines instantly fading at the sight of your tear streaked face.

He’s all gentleness and soft reassurances uttered as he cups your face, wiping away your tears. When you struggle into a sitting position, falling against his chest as your arms clumsily reach for him, his arms easily pull you close to him and you sob, trying to explain.

“Kix, I, I didn’t mean to, I never wanted to hurt anyone,” you whisper, clutching at him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, wanting to disappear, feeling his body shift, one hand splayed out, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, the other coming up to cradle your head, holding you against his warmth, sheltering you.

“Oh, adika, shh, I know. You didn’t hurt anyone, vod’ika, nothing happened,” he coos, tightening his arms around you. Lips press against your hair briefly, and you continue to cry, letting your emotions run their course as he cradles you to him, gently rocking you back-and-forth, as if you were a much smaller child.

In this moment, you certainly feel like you are, and it’s comforting, the way he holds and settles you against him , making gentle shushing noises and speaking in low, soothing tones, the words eventually losing their meaning as sleep, yet again, gently pulls at your consciousness.

The last thing you’re aware of is him gently guiding you to lie back down, another medic, you think it’s Coric, passing him a freshly warmed blanket that he tucks around you, and a hand gently brushing through your hair as you drift back to sleep, your storm settled and calmed by his words and his presence.

Anakin Skywalker had been in meetings with the Jedi high Council all day, was running on his 3rd cup of caff, and still found himself stifling a yawn every five minutes. So, when Rex silently slipped into the room, politely interrupting the meeting to request that Anakin report to the medbay, he instinctively rolled his eyes, grumbling that he would go later.

But when Rex stated that this wasn’t actually about him, and was in regards to his Padawan, Anakin was out of his seat in an instant, hastily making his excuses to the council before leaving the room, legs carrying him to the medbay faster than he ever had moved there before.

He doesn’t even stop to look as behind him, Rex calls to a group of troopers in a booming voice, “Hardcase, get Over here right now, you di’kut, I need to talk to you regarding professionalism when it comes to working with young Padawan’s .”

When he’s escorted into a cubicle, his eyes grow wide with alarm at the sight of you, peacefully asleep, but your face looks exhausted and worn out. You’re hooked up to an IV and monitors, there’s a thick bandage that’s been secured to the bottom half of your right leg.

Kix keeps his voice low and quiet, so as not to disturb you, but he fixes your master with a hard look as he takes him through an overview of your current health status.

“Iron deficiency anemia, burns, a dislocated shoulder, a blaster wound that had to be surgically operated on due to an untreated infection that had grown quite severe and needed to be manually removed, as well as several muscle strains and bruised ribs that can be healed with proper rest.”

His mouth falls open at the growing list, but Kix only folds his arms, continuing to speak. “General, sir, your Padawan looks to you with the highest regard, and you lead the way by example. All of these issues could have been caught much earlier and treated without having to deal with all this,” he gestures at everything you’re hooked up to.

“This behaviour was learned, and when I pressed, I found that at the root of the problem was fear of disappointing you and letting you down,” he waits for these words to sink in, and when they do, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi general who is known for his strength and recklessness on the field, hangs his head with shame, eyes finding the floor and refusing to look at Kix directly.

His meaning is clear, you are his Padawan, and as your master, it’s his responsibility to set a good example for you, and in this regard, watching pain medication flow through the IV line attached to your wrist, he knows he has failed to do so.

“So, just maybe, the next time you decide that are mandatory medical checks are optional and you can manage on your own, maybe just, consider this,” Kix gestures to you, still deeply asleep.

Before your master can respond, not that he really has any words to do so, Kix turns on his heel, quickly exiting the room before he can be reprimanded for speaking to his superior that way, not that he really cares, anyway.

If he had stayed, though, he would have seen Anakin tentatively move to your side, gently sitting on the edge of your bed as he strokes back your hair and adjusts the blankets that are tucked around you, properly shamefaced as he looks down at you and says in a voice that is soft and rarely heard coming out of him, “I’m sorry, kiddo, this one’s on me.”

“And this,” says Kix, quickly injecting the third and final mandatory vaccination into your arm, “is your ticket out of here.”

The week of recovery has come and gone, And you have finally been cleared to head back onto the field, as long as you continue to follow a regimen of oral antibiotics for the next week, and, more excitingly in your opinion, get out of the medbay.

“There you go, you did it,” Fives, who’s been sitting across from you, happily agreeing to be your emotional support/cheerleader, ready with a damp cloth if you need it, does a little celebratory dance that makes you laugh, even as Kix, sensing that you’re feeling unsteady, gets you to lay down.

Fives gently places the cool cloth against your skin, and it’s enough to ground you, pulling you back from the edge.

“That’s it, Vod’ika, well done, you did great,” Kix says encouragingly, giving your shoulder a warm squeeze. “Now, wait 15 minutes, and as long as you’re feeling back to normal, you can get out of here,” he smiles down at you, patting your head affectionately before moving out of the cubicle.

As soon as he’s gone, Fives liens in conspiratorially, face lighting up with mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. “Hey, kid, I bet you 10 credits that I could easily sneak you out right now and we could make this 15 minutes go a lot faster,” he grins.

In spite of the fact that you smile back at him and laugh lightly, you give your head a small shake and throw a cautious look over your shoulder.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been here for a whole week, and the biggest thing I’ve learned is that Kix and Coric do, in fact, have eyes in the back of their heads. We wouldn’t even make it out of the door.”

It’s true, you’ve seen several different troopers trying to carefully sneak out of the medbay when they think that no one is watching.

What you’ve learned, though, is that the medics of Torrent Company are always watching. Nothing gets past their keen eyes or ears, and no one successfully sneaks out undetected.

You grimace, “besides, I’ve just gotten off of Kix’s bad side, and I have no desire to go back there.”

“So,” Fives says, resignedly coming to sit on the edge of your bed with a sigh. “We’re waiting the 15 minutes?”

You carefully sit up, giving him a nod and a decisive look as you lean your head against his shoulder..

“Yes, Fives,” you affirm, letting out a small sigh of your own. “We are waiting the 15 minutes.”

************************* thank you so much for reading. Comments and re-blogs are always appreciated here.are always appreciated here.

Mandoa translations. Kaysh mirsh solus, they are stupid/foolish. Ori’vod: Big Brother (in this instance) can also be used as big sister or big sibling. Ni ceta: i’m sorry. Vod: Brother/ sister/ sibling. Adika: little one. Vod’ika: Little sister, little brother, or little sibling Haar’chak: damm it. Di’kut: Fool (literal translation is underwear forgeter) which kills me. Osi’yaim: shithead. Osik: shit.

#star wars x reader #kix x reader #platonic #reader insert #gn reader #padawan reader #fives x reader #anakin x reader #rex x reader #kix #clone medic kix #arc trooper fives #captain rex #Anakin Skywalker #the clone wars fanfiction #platonic imagine #tcw fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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vizslasaber · 5 months

Text

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

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vodika-vibes · 7 months

Note

*Slides 50$ in Monopoly money*

Could I possibly get a smutty fic with Kix x GN reader in which reader has a crush on Kix and they end up missing a medical appointment and Kix has to chase them down? Btw love your writing!

The Physical

Summary: When you get too absorbed in your work, you tend to forget everything happening around you. You’ve forgotten to eat, to sleep, and, on one occasion, your own boyfriend. So no one is surprised when you don’t show up for your required physical. That doesn’t mean that you don’t need it though.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1932

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. I was pretty careful to make the story as gender neutral as possible, in the sense that the reader has no gendered pronouns attached to them at all. Also, I made a divider for this story.

You’re a bit…scatterbrained.

You know it. Your parents know it. Your teachers from school knew it.

Your coworkers know it better than most.

It’s not intentional. It’s not. You just get so absorbed in your work, that you forget anything else.

Unfortunately, for you, anything else really means everything else. You’ve skipped meals, you’ve skipped sleep. You’ve missed holidays and birthdays and everything in between.

You once forgot about a date that you planned and scheduled and paid for.

And you try. You do try. You set reminders and calendar alerts, and it doesn’t matter because when you’re really absorbed in your work you just won’t hear them.

Luckily for you, the people you work with are unendingly patient with you and make a lot more allowances for you then they really should. It helps, probably, that you’re very good at what you do.

And that the men of the 501st genuinely like you.

You step out of your room, a private room close to where you work, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you see Kix standing there. “It’s about time you woke up.”

You stare at him for a moment, and then you look at your chrono, and then look back at Kix. “It’s barely 6. I can’t possibly be late to anything!”

“What? No. I’m here to remind you about your physical.”

“...oh. Right. That’s today isn’t it?” You glance at your comm, and make sure that the alert is saved, “I have alarms set, you don’t have to worry about me forgetting.”

“How many alarms?”

“...Four. Across two devices.” You admit.

He sighs, “That should be fine then.” He glances at his own datapad and frowns at something on the screen, “Why did you schedule for 12:30?”

“That’s the time I was assigned.” You reply with a shrug, “Is it a problem?” You ask as you lean in to get a glimpse of his datapad.

Kix quickly moves the datapad so you can’t see the screen and shoots you an amused look, “You know you’re not allowed to look at this.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” You lean back and flash a small grin at him.

“There’s nothing wrong, but the later in the day your appointment, the more likely it is that you’re going to forget.” Kix points out, and then he sighs, “It’s fine. You set alarms, so you’ll be there.”

“Right!” You pause and shoot him a curious look, “Will you be doing my exam?”

Part of you wants him to say yes. You’ve been crushing on him since the day you met him and having him touching you would be a dream come true. The rest of you is adamant that he absolutely does not do your physical because you’ll do or say something embarrassing.

“No.” Kix replies absently, seemingly not noticing your disappointment. “I’m the CMO of the Resolute, I don’t do physicals unless we’re really short handed.”

“Then why are you here reminding me?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“What, you don’t like chatting with me?” Kix asks with an amused grin. “I was heading this way anyway, and decided to take a moment to remind you.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“It is, isn’t it.” He claps your shoulder, “Anyway, I’ve distracted you enough as it is.” He pauses, “If I have to hunt you down because you forgot your physical after I came and reminded you, I’m going to be very cross.” He warns.

You fold your arms, “Honestly, it’s like people expect me to forget everything.”

“You don’t have the best record.” Kix points out.

“You’re not wrong but you don’t have to say it.” You mutter, and then your chrono chimes, “I have to go. Thanks for the reminder, Kix.”

“Sure.”

And then you both go separate ways. Your mind is already locked on the different projects that are waiting for you, and Kix to go and do whatever medical things that CMO does.

Later, you’re not really sure how much later, the door to your workshop slides open and a hand slams against the door panel, shutting and locking the door.

You’re only half aware of it, as half of your body is bent in the engine compartment of a speeder. “Whatever is broken, put it on a table over there.” You say, your voice muffled by the screwdriver in your mouth, and you wave vaguely in the direction of a table on the other side of the room, “Make sure you leave a ticket.”

There’s the sound of something being dropped on a table, and then silence, so you go back to trying to figure out what’s wrong with the speeder.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Unfortunately, you’re not able to pick out clones by their voices yet, especially when you’re only half paying attention. “I’m sure there’s a working chrono over there somewhere.” You mumble in reply.

There’s silence again, and you’re almost sucked back into your work, when strong hands grip your hips and you’re physically lifted away from the speeder and set several feet away.

And then you’re roughly spun so you’re facing Kix.

You stare at him, wide eyed, more than a little startled. And the harshness in his gaze softens slightly, as he lightly plucks the screwdriver from your lips, and sets it on a table, and he sets his hands on your shoulders.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“...no?”

He closes his eyes, as though he’s asking for patience, “When were you supposed to go to the medbay for your physical?”

Your face falls, “...I missed it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m sorry.”

Kix stares at you for a moment, and then he releases you, “Kriff. I can’t even stay mad at you.” He runs his hand over his head, “Look, I rescheduled your physical for first thing in the morning. You will be there, even if I have to drag you there myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Kix.” You won’t meet his gaze, “I am sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“...why’s your kit here?” You ask, noting that his medical kit is sitting at your desk.

“I was worried you got hurt since you generally work by yourself.”

“Oh.” That’s fair, you decide. You stare at the medkit for a moment and then you clap your hands together, “I have an idea!” You hurry over so that you’re standing in front of Kix, “How about you give me my physical. Here. Now.”

“What?”

“You have all of the stuff you need, right?”

“I…technically, yes.” Kix says slowly.

“And this way there’s no worry about me missing another appointment-!”

“Wait, hold on. This is not something I can do.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He falters and very pointedly doesn’t look you in the eye, “Because it would be inappropriate.” Kix finally admits.

“Come on, Kix. You’re the Chief Medical Officer, how could it possibly be inappropriate?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “Because my feelings in regards to you make it inappropriate.”

“...come again?”

Kix’s gaze is even as he scans your face, “Surely you’ve noticed how much time I spend with you? How much I talk to you?” His hand comes out to rest against your cheek, and his thumb brushes your lip, “How I worry about you all of the time?”

“I thought you were just being nice.” You admit.

“No. Well, not only. I-” He trails off, “Kriff, I want you so badly.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist and pull his hand away from your face, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want to pressure you.”

You don’t reply, you just lean in and catch his lips in a deep kiss, and Kix responds immediately, his arms sliding securely around you. He walks backwards and settles on your stool, and you move to stand between his legs, not breaking the kiss.

You break the kiss first, and you press light kisses across his face, “I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” You admit as you trail your lips across his cheek.

He chuckles, “I’ve been fantasizing about you for the same amount of time.” There’s something roguish in his eyes, “I think…my first fantasy about you was you, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You laugh softly, “That right?”

“You always have something in your mouth. A pen, a screwdriver, a fork, that one time I caught you with a wire in your mouth and nearly had a heart attack on the spot-”

You gaze at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then you grin at him and drop to your knees between his legs, and you lay your head on his knees.

“W-wait…I didn’t mean-” but he trails off and licks his lips, “You don’t have to.” He finally says.

“I want to.” Is your simple reply, “How do I remove your codpiece?”

“You let me do it.” Kix replies sounding slightly breathless, as he swiftly removes the piece of armor and sets it to the side.

You sit back slightly as he does something, and his half hard cock pops free. It’s pretty you decide as you shift closer to him and lightly take him in hand, giving him a few strokes, until he’s completely hard in your hand.

You glance up at Kix, who is breathing heavily, his gaze locked on your face. His pupils are blown wide, and you flash a small smile, before you lean in and lightly lick the head of his cock.

You hear Kix release a groan and a curse, and that’s all you need.

You wrap your lips around him and slowly, painfully slowly, take him inch by inch, until you can’t take anymore of him in your mouth. And then you start a slow pace, you want to take your time and you want to hear as much of his groans and moans.

He sets his hand on your head, not pushing or trying to make you take more than you're comfortable with, but to encourage you. He strokes your hair, praises falling from his lips as you work him over with your lips and tongue.

“Kriff,” Kix groans, “This is so much better than my imagination.”

You pull off of him completely, using your hands to continue the easy pace that you set, “Is it?” you ask.

“Kriff, yes.” Kix strokes your cheek, “Cyare…I-” He trails off as you take him back in your mouth, and his hips buck towards you. You’re not sure what he wants to say, but you’re pretty sure, whatever it is, can wait.

Kix’s praises start becoming more rambly, and you pull back so that you have your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, while using your hands to continue stroking him.

And then he groans, low and deep, as he spills his release in your mouth. You keep him in your mouth until he’s done, and then you swallow his release and sit back on the floor, using the sleeve of your shirt to wipe your lips.

“I probably need more practice at that,” You murmur thoughtfully.

Kix doesn’t reply, he’s staring at you, a sly smile on his lips.

“What?”

He slides off the stool to the ground and tugs you closer, his grin never once fading and a mischievous grin on his face, “I’m not done.” He breathes out, as he lays you back and hooks his arms around your thighs, “It’s only fair if I return the favor, don’t you think?”

#star wars #tcw #clone medic kix x reader #kix x reader #18+ fic #clone thirsting #nsft #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

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ninjababypowpow · 2 months

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Last line challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

So this is just gonna be a thing now, huh?

“Wait, did you just say -” CMO Kix shoved between Lieutenant Jesse and ARC trooper Fives to take a look at Dogma, who stood his ground and didn’t react to the sudden movement, even though he clearly wanted to. A spine of beskar, Fox thought proudly, not for the first time. If they’d only realized what they’d let go. “CT-6622? Are you-” Fox’s eyes widened behind his bucket. They couldn’t have realized this quickly - “- a batchmate of Dogma’s? CT-6922?” Dogma froze up completely, and Fox stepped in front of him, squaring his shoulders. “My aide’s batchmates are none of your business, CMO Kix, and certainly not pertaining to the matter at hand.” But Kix pressed on. “Do you know what happened to him? We never got any answers where he ended up.” Dogma swallowed, heavily, a clicking sound over the internal comm, and Fox was already tapping out a message to Stab for a convenient emergency that required his aide’s attention elsewhere, when Dogma took half a step forward, as if in challenge. “CT-6922 was evaluated and found to be defective. Since no one spoke up for him, he was sent to Kamino for decommissioning. I wasn’t part of the Guard then, I only arrived after CT-6922 was already gone.” Technically, all true. CT-6622 only joined the Guard after CT-6922 was officially on the transport to Kamino.

round and round it goes where it stops no one knows

@hastalavistabyebye, @hopefullyakotelife there is no escape from this hell you have trapped us both in.

#tori writes #tori rambles #tag game

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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

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OC Sundays: Sgt. Dozer the Tooka (CT-2KA)

Want a Datafile for your Star Wars OC (or one of your pets)? Find out how to get one here! Or check out other OC Datafiles I’ve created here!

Transcript in alt text and below the cut.

GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC

Personnel Datafile Name: Dozer Rank: Sergeant Identifying number: CT-2KA Duty assignment: Emotional Support Officer, 501st Legion Status: Active

Service Record Prior service: Rodent Catcher, alley behind 79's, Coruscant mid-levels Commendations: Plastoid star for excellence in snuggling Qualifications: Close quarters combat - Expert; Tracking and reconnaissance - Expert; Napping - Expert; Purring - Expert Medical record: Fleas - treatment complete; Spay procedure - fully recovered; Emaciation - commanding officer insists that treatment continue despite patient being fully recovered Remarks: Remanded into custody of ARC Trooper Jesse following altercation with Coruscant Guard officer Grizzer. Volunteered for service in 501st Legion. Medical exam and treatment plan completed by CMO Kix. Intake approved by Captain Vaughn.

Please nobody tell Captain Rex.

---

I used this Picrew to create Dozer's artwork 😻

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly

#501st shenanigans #501st legion #oc sundays #star wars oc #clone wars oc #star wars #clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit's follower celebration

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somestorythoughts · 5 months

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Eldritch Echo Pt 5

So I have no idea what the canon timeline is, but I'm gonna say that for this there was at most 6 months between the Citadel and Echo's rescue, possibly less, and those months have been absurdly busy for the 501st. There was a week tops between Rex holding Fives in his arms when he died and then holding Echo as he pulled him out of the tank, so poor Rex was having Domino-based emotional whiplash that week. When this fic starts, Echo has been with the Bad Batch about a month and a half. They're friends and they trust each other, partly because since Echo recovered very quickly most of this time has been spent on missions with them and that's bonding time, but 1, they aren't as close as they one day could be, and 2, while Echo's mostly accepted that this is his new body in other ways he's still getting used to it. So they're all still working things out.

Now onwards!

‘Fives has one to match.’

It sticks in Crosshair’s mind after Echo leaves. “Tech? Remember when we brought Echo to the medbay after rescuing him?”

“Yes.”

“That medic. After we all thought Echo was asleep he asked Captain Rex if he wanted him to tell Echo about Fives or if he wanted to do it himself. What was it Echo said then?”

Tech frowned. He remembers that, remembers working with the medic on Echo’s prosthetics and hearing Echo mumble names and binaries in his sleep. “It was something about Fives, and walls – Fives is busy in the walls.”

“Fives is busy in the walls.” Echo had said, clearly only mostly asleep, and both CMO Kix and Captain Rex had turned around so fast they must have gotten whiplash.

“He didn’t say Fives was dead just now.” Crosshair realized. “He said Rex told him Fives was dead. And given how he and the medic looked before Echo spoke, I bet they believed that. But if Echo was left behind after an explosion that could have killed him, could something similar have happened to Fives?”

“And if it did, does that mean Fives is the same kind of trooper as Echo?” Tech added. “I do not believe Echo’s oddities were designed by the Kaminoans, I have found no references in their files of any experiments with the Regs that look like they could have caused this. Either it was something Echo hid, or the cause originated from something that he encountered after Kamino.”

“Find out how Fives died. I’ll see if I can find a question he’ll give a straight answer to.” Crosshair snarled.

“Fives was shot in the chest by Commander Fox.”

Both troopers jumped. No one was in sight, but Echo’s shadow loomed on the wall, Torrent-blue eyes dull against the metal. Echo’s voice continued from somewhere above their heads. “And if we’re ever on Coruscant, I’m gonna have a little chat with him about shooting my twin. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to sleep. Stop talking.”

Crosshair flips off the shadow on the wall with both hands. It grins with silver needle teeth and sinks into the wall. “Night Tech. I’ll wake you up for the next watch.”

“Very well.” Tech agrees. But, much like Echo’s earlier choice words had stuck in Crosshair’s head, the word ‘twin’ won’t leave Tech’s mind. He searches the term before he goes to bed, and only leaves his datapad when Crosshair glares at him.

Twin. Forming or being one of a pair born at birth. He knows this. But the clones are decanted in huge batches, hundreds in a day, and there’s always only one trooper per tube. Either each decanting is one multiple birth or none of them are. Either each batch is all twins – or whatever the word would be for hundreds of brothers born at once – or none of them are.

So why did Echo call Fives his twin?

And then, just before Tech finally drifts off to sleep, he realizes that this isn’t the first time he’s heard of troopers calling each other twin. There had been a pair of troopers who did that in the 41st Elite Corps, under General Unduli. They had painted their armor to be mirror images of each other and had been friendly to the Batch. And when Wrecker had complimented their armor, one of them had laughed and said it was a good reflection of their eyes and each had taken off their helmets to demonstrate.

Heterochromia, when the eyes were two different colors. They each had a blue eye and a brown eye, and much like their armor, their eyes mirrored each other. What had been their names? Ah yes, Cobalt and Cerulean.

He falls asleep trying to remember if they had been like Echo in any way.

The next day, he learns they’ve been given a mission to rescue some shinies attached to the 41st, and decides it’s a chance to find out.

#eldritch echo #clone wars #eldritch clone troopers #eldritch #if anyone is reading this comment please? you don't have to but it makes my day #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #bad batch crosshair #bad batch tech #tbb #clone troopers

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saggitary · 6 months

Note

Ooo what’s the Ahsoka + Echo Techno AU?

I’m so glad you asked 😈

Basically it’s a what if Ahsoka had been captured by the techno union during the war and placed in a similar predicament to Echo, from her they would be drawing out some battle strategies but also information about the Jedi (hint hint how to properly destroy them during order 66)

At a certain point both Echo and Ahsoka realize they are hooked into the same network and plan an escape. This would be a fix it au!

————————

CT-1409

For kriffs sake.

<Ahsoka Tano.> She shoved back stubbornly into the stream in her brain.

From the sound of the clang, she had to guess that she was in some sort of enclosure. Beyond that, she still knew very little.

<Commander?>

Ahsoka’s brain went fuzzy at that. Commander, what was she the commander of again? Right, she was a Jedi commander in the GAR.

She was sucked into a side stream of information.

501st battalion- General Skywalker- Battle of Christophsis, Second Battle of Geonosis, Siege on Ryloth- Captain Rex- Torrent Battalion, Carnival Battalion, Execute Battal- CMO Kix, Corporal Jesse, ARC Trooper Fives, ARC Trooper Echo-

CT-1409

Ahsoka shot out of the stream.

<Echo?>

I don’t normally do <> these for dialogue but while they are hooked up to the mainframe they aren’t properly talking so <> will be used until real dialogue starts 😁

#the clone wars #star wars #see’s writes #ahsoka tano #arc trooper echo #Ahsoka and echo #techno union AU #they are siblings your honor #this will be FULL of the angsties don’t you worry

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marierg · 1 year

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Tender Mercy

Rated: M (18+ Youngins or easily triggered DO NOT READ)

Warnings: Violence, medical talk, strong language, mentions of blood and blood stains, mentions of depression and depressive episodes, Stress and stress responses, pent up feelings, crying, kissing and bed sharing. Yeah if you're looking for the smuts that's gonna be in the next part(s?).

A/N: I will state that the initial first part of this started out as a cathartic venting for myself after a really bad call (I drive the boo boo bus). I never meant to put it out there but it evolved over time to this little story about Kix. much Thanks to @the-rain-on-kamino as always for being my partner in crime!

Words: 5.5K... Yeah I can't do short.

Song credit: Rainbow connection by Jim Henson & Paul Williams

Don't read under the cut if ya cant handle....

Red...

So much Red....

It was so hard to get out.

You scrubbed and you scrubbed and you poured on more peroxide cleaner yet still it wouldn't go away. It seeped into the seams in the metal of the LAAT, oozing back out after you thought it had been wiped clean. It was unrelenting, never ending much like the stream of injured that you had sent back to the cruiser from the planet surface. Once the injured stopped coming and the battle won then you finally had a chance to go back yourself. Still you found yourself covered in the red that hadn't yet been cleaned from the days events. On your uniform, your bags, and every other surface that had been contaminated by these last few days. You too were contaminated, but unlike the emotionless gear around you there seemed no way to purge the stain on your heart. Gritting your teeth in anger at your failures, 17 lost because you weren't good enough... fast enough... strong enough. So here you knelt in the bloodied craft, trying to right what was in your control to correct.

17 good men gone...

Contrail clenched his jaw, “How long has she been at it?”

“Dunno, saw 'er in the medbay restocking earlier after landing.” Jepp shrugged, unsure how long their civilian medic had been scrubbing out the cabin of the craft. Both men slowly walked up, Jepp leaning on the B post of the gunship studied your expression. You were moving on instinct, not really paying attention to their presence. “Scrub that any harder the paint will peal off.”

You grunted but kept scrubbing.

“I heard the chow tonight is decent, how 'bout it?” He gestured with his head towards the direction of the mess.

Still you just wiped away the most recent clean spot and moved to the next red stain in the cabin.

The two pilots glanced at one another unsure what to do. If it was one of their brothers this wouldn't be a discussion, marching them to the med bay by force if necessary. Fortunately neither man needed to dwell on it much further, the familiar shape of their CMO came into the hangar.

“I've got her boys, you can head out.”

Kix held the restocked bags watching you work, waiting till the others were gone and the hangar empty again to move closer. He knew there was no talking to you right now, he was much the same way after missions. It was simply the last thing to do to finish out the day, you cleaned the gear and your craft to leave it ready at a moments notice. All medics did this, but it was more than for protocol. It was meditative, reflective, a means to try to make sense of the mission that had just been survived.

You glanced briefly at Kix as he gloved up. He grabbed a towel and a brush, taking the spot next to yours to try to finish the job. He didn't speak, there was no need to. The two of you often worked like this in the field, simply knowing what supply to throw to the other or even knowing when the other needed help within the vast sea of patients. Bandaging, medicating, triaging and sending to transport trooper after trooper. Finally the two of you stepped off of the craft, satisfied with the job and replacing the aid bags.

“It wasn't your fault.” Kix was the first to break the quiet, keeping a calm tone. You had that look that some of his older brothers had, one that even he had from time to time. You were standing at the bay slop sink scrubbing your hands raw even though the gloves had kept you clean. Moving to your side he tried to turn your shoulder only to have you jerk away. “Y/n, it wasn't your fault...”

“Then why did they die? We did everything right, So why?” It was a whisper but still it echoed off the walls.

“We can't always save them, try as we might we can't. And there are always more troopers that need our help.” Kix carefully moved towards you, not yet attempting contact again. “We saved more than we lost, that's a victory.”

Your jaw fixed, gritting out the words. “Some would argue that.”

“107 others would agree with me. General Skywalker and General Kenobi would tell you the same.” Kix watched the despair and frustration fill your eyes, needing to place the blame for those losses somewhere. This mission had been particularly brutal, the planet itself was trying to kill them as much as the Separatists. The two of you had been injured, still you had kept working not giving a kark for the shrapnel that had peppered you. Days without sleep or food and very little water, all this and you didn't even have to be there at all. You had volunteered to go, you had chosen to help and heal those who were never given that option. “Y/n, you gave more than anyone could have and that means more to us clones than you know.”

You didn't want to cry, especially not in front of Kix. He was always so brave and calm, unflappable some would say. He never cried and of all people he was the one entitled... they were his brothers after all. But they were also your friends, your shipmates. Men whom you lived, ate and fought alongside. You didn't flinch back this time when his gentle hand squeezed your shoulder, nor did you pull away when he brought you into a hug. You didn't want to cry, but since when in this war did anyone get what they wanted. “Why... w-why Kix?”

Kix held you, gently soothing a hand on your head. How many times had he wondered the same thing, how many times had he begged the Maker to let him save just one more of his Vode? He could feel your wracking sobs against his plate less chest and wished he could take away your pain along with his own. Your sweet soul didn't deserve any of this and yet he was so deeply grateful for your presence. Leaning down to the top of your head, Kix breathed in deep before laying his cheek to your crown. “I wish I knew Sarad.”

Kix stayed closer to you after that, not that he hadn't before. He would show up for shift with an extra breakfast roll or make a smart remark during briefing trying to get you to laugh. He made you come out of your dark feelings and fears, always there even if in companionable silence listening to you ramble. As time past you started to wonder what if it could be more, what if there was more to this feeling?

You were attracted to the man, oh Maker were you attracted to him, but what if he didn't feel the same? Or what if he did? You always shook those thoughts away quickly, it wouldn't be professional and worse you might loose what you did have. So instead you satisfied yourself with reciprocating his care and friendship. Indulging in a hug, sharing your care package treats, or just squeezing his hand when he looked unhappy. Hells one time you grabbed a bedpan and a crutch to sing and dance till he fell out of the chair laughing. It was the little things here and there, but hopefully it conveyed a portion of what you felt.

It was a few months after that mission when you all got sent through the grinder again. Kix had left to go ahead with a small team while you remained back with most of Torrent. Fives and Jesse were telling you another tall tale when the ground violently shook at the LZ. There was no thinking involved, you yelled for Jepp to get the bird in the air and soon located the missing men. It had been a hairy extraction, you lost two en route back to the base. The mission continued but something had changed, Kix was different.

He was quieter than normal, solemn. After landing back on the ship he just took the bags and left to restock, no acknowledgment of your presence or offer to help after handing off the wounded. Kix didn't show up for debriefing with the command staff and half the squad didn't know where he'd gone. When you checked the bay the bird was clean and the bags returned and still no Kix. As time ticked by the claws of dread slowly wound their way around your heart and throat till it hurt to breathe.

It finally dawned on you to scan the ship for his ID chip. You ran the corridors, bumping into more than a few troopers, entering the small supply closet off of the med bay. Kix was there just quietly staring into the dark shelves blankly. He still had his armor on, bloodstained and muddied. The normally rock steady medic, your best friend, was so deep in his pain that he didn't even notice when you started talking.

“Kix I been looking for you.”

Nothing, not a blink or even a flinch. Just blankly staring.

“How about letting a pretty girl get you a Kaf, what do you say?”

A grunt this time.

You were really starting to worry now, this was bad as you had ever seen one of the men. When they got this bad sometimes the troopers were sent back to Kamino, none of them ever came back the same... if they came back. The very though sent shudders down your spine, no you wouldn't let that happen to him.

“Kix, you're gonna come with me okay. We're going to go somewhere quiet so you can rest.” When his head slowly turned you saw the dried tear trails. Swallowing down your emotions and giving him a soft smile as you offered a hand, you begged he would accept. “please take my hand.”

Trembling fingers met yours, grasping tight. His only reply was a nod, but that was enough for now.

It was a slow, robotic walk back to your room. You decided that was a better option than to let any of the brass see him like this. You figured that if you watched Kix close you might be able to cover for him till this wore off. You helped to remove his armor and gave him a push to the fresher, hoping the hot water could offer him some relief. By the time you returned with fresh blacks, bless the supply boys, he sat on the edge of the bed looking lost but in fairer condition than before.

“I'm... Y/n... Sarad...” His jaw continued to move but no sound came out. Mechanically he dressed and then sat once more, still so very lost. Why was he still there? That droid should have killed him, why did he get to live when Ace and Taps were gone? They were good troopers...

“Shh shh, it's ok, you rest now.” Pulling back the covers you eased him onto the mattress, tucking him in. You propped up with the unfinished reports on the floor, holding his hand with a small squeeze before settling in, “Sleep Kix, you're safe here, I promise.”

“Thank you Y/n.”

That was how the next night went as well, you on the floor and Kix in the bed though he had tried to fight you on it. The third night he refused until you had agreed to also sit up in the bed. When he had finally drifted off it was with his head in your lap as you stroked gently through the short buzz trim on his head. You hummed an old song from your childhood in time to your caressing, hoping to soothe and fight away the nightmares. When he did stir with a whimper you'd start the song again.

Just a little longer you figured at least till he didn't cry in the night. Just a while more till he would be fine sleeping without you soothing him; your time was precious and finite and that was how it had to be. Through those nights you had answered every call and attended every briefing, making the excuse that Kix was tending to the men or seeing to requisitions. Every once in a while you thought there might have been a glint in Rex's eye. If the Captain suspected, he never said anything.

The unit made it back to Couriscant for some well earned shore leave and at last you were able to let your guard down. Kix had been able to sleep through the night a few rotations before and had insisted he would be fine returning to the barracks. You were relieved and saddened. Given the many missions and cramped quarters you decided to take an old friend up on a longstanding offer. They had a place that was set up as a short stay vacation apartment and had cleared the entire leave time for your use. Who knew, maybe a few days on terra firma would help your own aches and pains. As you got unpacked and tossed groceries in the fridge there was a com from the Captain, the text simply read, “79's come quick.”

Pulling up on your speeder bike there were your boys in blue bloodied and shouting as a bunch from the 808th Ordinance corp were pulling up stakes. Grimacing you jogged over, “What the heck guys?”

“Those Di'kuts started it, we simply cleaned the floor with them,” Hardcase giggled.

Rex and Jesse were restraining a few troopers, one with a set of all too familiar colored shoulder bells. Rex pulled Kix along, lecturing him in Mando'a until both of their eyes met your very tired ones. Crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow you sighed. “Well lets get you cleaned up.”

Once the last of the bandages were placed and the other company of troopers out of sight, Rex pulled you to the side. The Captain had always been good to you, hell he treated you like one of the boys, the grim look on his face though was purely marshal in appearance. Crossing his arms Rex leveled with you, “Sargent I need a straight answer from you, not that osik from the last few days.”

Flexing nervously under that stare you tried not to crack, “What answer is that Captain?”

“Kix hasn't been himself.”

“He's been tired is all...”

“No it's not.” The Captain leveled his best harsh look at you. “So I'm going to ask you again.”

Your body was twitching from the nerves of the last week, stars knew how scared you felt. “I can't...”

“Why not?”

Damn your body for betraying you. The stress of the previous days, all those fears crashing under Rex's scrutiny. You sniffled and tried to get a grip, croaking out the next answer to Rex. “Cause you'll send him back to Kamino.”

“What?”

“They'll mess up his brain and he won't be Kix anymore.” You started to really shake then, dam bursting tears rolling down your face.

“Hey hey hey, come here now.” Rex's facade instantly crumbled, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He had to give you credit, keeping cool for this long poor little mite. “That is not going to happen. The last thing I want is for Kix to be in pain so we need to help him. I promise that he won't get sent back to Kamino, just tell me how I can help.”

“I don't know, he was doing ok for a bit.” You released a frustrated breath & wiped the tears away. Glancing at the medic who was sitting on a planter with Fives and Hardcase your heart clinched again. “What set him off anyway?”

“Wasn't there when it started, but Jesse said that the 808 were making some noise. Something about us having a lot of shinies and civies around every time we get back planet side.” Rex gritted his teeth, refraining from telling you the horrible things that were really said, especially the part they said about you.

Your face turned red at the implications, temper rising in indignation. Taking another look at your Captain you pressed further while resisting the urge to use some of your troopers favorite slang. “Those... Oh if I get my hands on...Grrrr.”

Rex couldn't help a small smirk given that you had all the furry of a loth cat and were just as adorable. “Easy there.”

Letting out a huff you tried to stay focused on the task at hand, “What do you think we should do?”

Rex crossed his arms, thinking, “Well for one I don't want him anywhere near those di'kuts, so going back to the barracks is out”

“Agreed,” Sighing heavily you tried to think of a solution, “But where can he go?”

Rex always considered himself a fair judge of character. He knew Kix harbored more than just affection for you. Hell anyone could see how Kix tended to gravitate to you like a planet obits a sun. Rex also surmised that you harbored deep feelings for his brother. Having seen you sing or dance, anything to get Kix to smile. “I may have an idea.”

“I'm in.”

Rex knew of course that you had smuggled his CMO back to your bunk on board the ship. He was also aware that your movements and duties to cover both jobs had precluded any possibility that either of you had done anything non regulation. Not that he would blame either for trying to find a little happiness, rare as it was. Maybe all that the two needed was a little nudge and perhaps that was what would bring his brother back. “I don't mean to impose Y/n, but aren't you staying off base this leave?”

“Yeah,” Seeing Rex raise his eyebrows and shrug you realized what he was trying not to say aloud. Under more normal circumstances Kix going back to your place would have been exciting, but right now all you felt was cement churning in your guts. Looking at those golden eyes your head nodded in agreement.

“Good, com if you need anything.” Rex hoped that he was right about this. As his general would so often say, sometimes you have to follow your instincts and pray the Force it's correct. Rex turned to you, one more time. “You know it's not everyone who gets a nickname Y/n... even rarer for one in Mando'a. But I suppose that you knew that.”

Kix was in his own world, he vaguely remembers the few stops that were made before walking into the apartment. He recalled you sitting him on the couch with a movie after making him shower and change into the comfortable clothing you had acquired for him. It was loose and soft against his skin, he wondered if all civilian clothing was like this. He felt relaxed and unrestricted, he felt free.

Kix had savored eating the dinner you had cooked and just sitting at the table, no reports or place to be. He wondered if all civilians did this, just sitting and enjoying their meals without a thought to the world outside. All evening you talked about your friends, life happening outside the GAR, things that had happened long ago when you were a youngling. You chatted all the time about things, sometimes you sang or hummed, but rarely was it quiet when you were around.

His Sarad, a thing of beauty in the midst of the ciaos. Kix remembers the day he gave you the nickname. While waiting for casualties he had suddenly felt a ring of flowers placed on his head. You had giggled and started talking about things he could not grasp: childhood games, playing, happiness. Then the wounded had come and you had remained calm. You talked to the men, sang them your silly songs to put them at ease, and through it all you smiled. You were smiling at him again, asking if he wanted to watch another holo, but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the dark circles under your bright eyes, it was that your smile didn't extend the way it normally would.

“Kiiiiix? Hello... command to Kix... you there?” Oh kriff the man finally starting to talk with you again and now he was staring right at you but not responding. “So is that a no to the holo?”

Kix stood, walking over and pulling you up and out of the chair. He saw your eyes widen, the hitch in your breathing, flush creeping across your cheeks. Gently he wrapped his arms around you and felt as your soft form molded against him.

Holy Maker stars above... Well this was new, “Kix?”

“Ner Sarad, dral runi.” He raised a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking against the downy surface.

“You should probably teach me what those fancy words you're using mean,” it came out a nervous laugh, “they sound so pretty.”

Kix's mouth turned up a bit, you were so sweet. “Dral means bright and runi is hard to explain. It's what makes a person, that which goes on even after death.”

“A person's soul.” Your heart raced, eyes half lidded from the soft caress and his words. Taking a deep, fortifying breath you dared a glimpse of his warm eyes. Amber hues shot with flecks of darker brown studying you in kind. “Kix, why did you get so mad? I don't think I've ever seen you get in a fight.”

“They said something unkind about my brothers. And you.”

“Me?” Swallowing hard you ducked your head to quell the butterflies swarming. Heat was creeping into your body the longer Kix held you, but you needed to figure out what was going on with him, how to help him. “It doesn't matter, you could have ended up in the brig or worse. You know better than anyone what happens when...”

“I couldn't let them call you...”

“I don't care,” Damn your voice for trembling. “Words can't hurt me, whatever it was it doesn't matter.”

“Y/n...”

“No I don't care what they said! I KRIFFING CARE ABOUT YOU!” The panic that you thought had subsided roared back with a vengeance. You were scared as hell for him and now scared as hell how he would react to your confession. He didn't balk or walk away, instead Kix drew you closer as you crumpled into his shoulder. “I don't want anything to happen to you. You can't ... damn it Kix I'm not worth it! I want you to be safe, I don't want you to get arrested or court marshaled or worse. Please!”

“You're worth it to me.” He said it through gritted teeth, as though your words had cut him to the bone. “You are worth everything to me, Y/n.”

“Not if it means they...” The grip you had on him tightened, words coming out a whisper as if speaking them was something taboo. “Not if it means they take you away.”

“Shh I'm sorry Sarad. No more fights I promise.” He'd stop the planet turning if it meant your tears would dry. Kix began to sway with you in his arms, singing the same song that you had used to lull him to rest these past days. Not that he could sing, but Kix tried to keep the tune even. “Who said that every wish would be heard and answered when wished on the morning star?”

“Somebody thought of it (sniff) and someone believed it...”

“and look what it's done so far,” There was a soft smile tugging the corners of his lips as your head turned to look up at him. Your nose was pink and your eyes puffy, but you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. “What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing and what do we think we might see?”

There he was, you saw the minute the light returned to his eyes. You couldn't help a small sigh as he pressed your foreheads together while you finished together. “Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.”

“Sarad don't cry, not for me, please.”

“Can't help it I'm a crier, I cry at everything,” Sniffling again you took a steady deep breath. “But I'll try.”

His thumbs still absently stroked at the apple of your cheek, trying to stem the tide. Kix felt slender fingers gently lay on the side of his face and neck, his eyes closed in ecstasy. How he wished he had said something far sooner, when his mind wasn't tattered at the seams. Yet here you stood unafraid, holding him. “What is it?"

“Don't shut me out.” Stars what was this spell and how could you keep it from breaking? You had him back, please Maker don't let him slip away again. “Please Kix tell me what to do, I want to help.”

“You are ner Sarad, you always do.”

“Kix...” Closing your eyes you concentrated on the sound of his voice as he began to sing again. His baritone could put you at ease, it could make your heart race, but right now it was a grounding tether soothing your weary nerves. Snaking your arms around his neck you let him lead as your bodies gently rocked in slow circles.

“Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? I've heard you calling my name...” Kix tilted his head to nuzzle his nose lightly on yours, drawing a true grin out for the first time in days. “Is this the sweet sound that calls the young troopers, your voice may be one and the same...”

Moving to close the hairs breath distance, you pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Kix tilted your face to look up at him, using his thumb to brush at the plump flesh of your lower lip and you kissed the pad of the digit just as gently. Then your eyes went wide, a blush crossing your cheeks. “I'm sorry, I should have asked if it was ok to kiss you. Are you ok? Is this ok? Did I...”

“Sarad, you may kiss me as much as you wish.” He chuckled in his throat, pressing a finger to your lips effectively pausing your nervous babble. “Because I will give you as many as I can... and so much more.”

Dipping his head Kix laid claim to you, slow and thorough in his exploration. He wanted to memorize the pattern of your lips as they pressed to his, their texture and taste. Using his thumb to press your jaw open his tongue made a tentative sweep into the warmth of your mouth, tongues tangling the less timid you became and the more he beckoned. Kix's heart raced with every little moan and sigh you gave as he continued his ministrations. Maker he wanted more of you, to feel your soft skin under his hands, to see what you looked like out of that ridiculous regulation braid. He pulled at the tie in your hair to watch the soft filaments fall to frame your face. A flower in bloom.

Kix crouched down and picked you up,grinning at your squeek of surprise even as your legs wrapped around his hips. You didn't protest, nor cry, just held tighter as he carried you to the bedroom. Setting you down on the soft mattress he sat next to you feeling uncertain. He knew what he wanted, what he so ached to do to show just how much he felt. He stroked his fingers near where exhaustion sullied your bright face and knew that was meant for another night. Still he so yearned to show you how he felt, to reward your courage and care as well. “Y/n you're so good to me, ner kotep cyar'ika.”

“Oh Kix,” Maker you couldn't believe that you finally had the man in your bedroom, but you couldn't bring yourself to go further than kissing. He was vulnerable and you hated to think he may regret any decisions tonight because of that. Above all else you had to do right by him because at the end of the night he was still your friend. Cradling his face you kissed his forehead before whispering softly in his ear. “let's get some rest and in the morning we'll figure things out.”

“Sleep well Y/n, I'll be here when you wake up.” There was a small pang of disappointed, but he would let you sleep for a week or more if it gave you peace. Brushing the hair away from your face Kix started to move away until he felt you holding tighter to him. “Sarad?”

“Would you stay with me?” Nerves getting the better of you, biting the corner of your mouth. “I'll sleep better if you're here.”

His face softened even more, “Are you sure?”

“Only if you want to,” You laid back, ducking your head into the plush pillows to half hide, “You make me feel safe and...”

He was trying to understand you through the muffling of the pillow, a half grin on his face. “And?”

“I want you feel safe with me too.”

Kix couldn't resist or say no to you and frankly he had never slept so well as when he had lain in your quarters. Removing his top and climbing in to settle on his back, Kix snugged you into the crook of his arm. You cuddled in further placing your head on his chest so that his heartbeat was right under your cheek, steady and constant. He caressed your shoulder and back while playing with the fingers of the hand on his torso. It was such an intimate position.

“Kix what does Sarad mean?”

In for a credit, in for a kilo. He hummed, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Flower.”

“Why do you call me flower?”

“Do you know what the first thing I saw when I left Kamino was y/n?” The words rumbled from his chest, he felt as your head shook. “I was sent as a replacement to meet with the 501st, but they were on this little forest moon. When the gangplank lowered all I could see was this field of little flowers, I'd never seen one before.”

You smiled waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I thought that they must be the most beautiful things in the galaxy.” He tilted your chin to look at him, “Until you waltzed into the med bay and I knew I had been mistaken.”

Your cheeks warmed as a blush spread over your face.

“Sleep ner mesh'la sarad,” Kix tucked the comforter more snugly around your shoulders, “we can talk more in the morning.”

Tags: @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader #Clone medic Kix Smut #kix x reader #Kix Smut #clone thirsting

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mamuzzy-creates-stuff · 5 months

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CORRIE OC MASTERLIST

Collection of my corrie OCs and art. Finally had the time to make a masterlist for them and decided to put all of them in one place ^^ If you have questions about my OCs, don't hesitate to ask!

I don't do rp on this blog, but if you interact with one of my characters with yours through askbox, I may respond with an art work!

ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

JULY 2023

「CMO Headshot」 [ART]

AUGUST 2023

「Corries」 [ART]

SEPTEMBER 2023

「Comfort a character: Fox」 [ART] 29/09/2023 | Commander Fox, OC: Headshot | Comfort a character prompt| We have a shared custody on Headshot with ithillia <3 |

DECEMBER 2023

「Culture shock(ed)trooper」 [Snippet]

10/12/2023 |OC: Lily, OC: Blaze, Corrie!Fives | Conversation about Lily’s photography, social media and drug habits | Warning: mentions of drugs |

「Lily doing Lily-things」 [ART]

30/12/2023 |OC: Lily, OC: Vorn, OC: Blaze | OC lore | Corey you’ve made me the happiest person with this request TT__TT |

JANUARY 2024

「Lily in the club」 [ART]

28/01/2024 | OC: Lily | Prettiest flower of the 79’s |

「Selfie with Blaze」 [ART]

28/01/2024 | OC: Lily, OC: Blaze | Companion art for Lily in the Club |

「Glasses make you classy」 [ART]

31/01/2024 | Commander Fox, OC: Headshot | Sketchbook | Headshot wears glasses to look more mature, Fox wears Headshot’s glasses to annoy him |

FEBRUARY 2024

「City boy gets intimidated by war veteran’s huge equipment」 [ART]

Not a cloneship, but I’m a very mature person so the dialogue is purposefully written as cockmeasuring 18/02/2024 | Clone Trooper Kix, OC: Headshot | Kix tries to befriend the corrie medic |

「Life after O66」 [ART]

18/02/2024 | OC: Lily, OC: Blaze, OC: Vorn, OC: Headshot, OC: Pons, OC: Angel, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Commander Thire | ARTs and rambling about OC’s and how they life will be after Order 66 | WARNING: Mentions of canon character's deaths, mentions of suicide, actual suicide and visual depiction of it, nudity but genitals are not visible. Coruscant Guard has cultish vibes.

「Corrie Medical Team」 [ART]

18/02/2024 | OC: Headshot, OC: Pons, OC: Angel | That art about the medical team from Life after O66 post. | It’s just three of them being not alright. |

「Imperial!Lily」 [ART]

21/02/2024| OC: Lily | Basically that art about Lily from the Life after O66 post | He is not alright |

「Reggest reg ever regged from the reg manual」 [ART]

29/02/2024 | Corrie!Fives, OC: Blaze, ithillia’s OC: Snake | Fives has a rough time adapting to his new environment |

MARCH 2024

「Gems of the Republic」 [FIC]

03/03/2024 | OC: Blaze, OC: Vorn | Ficlet about a little bit of nothing, corrie guard Blaze and Vorn having a lighthearted conversation during patrol, and oh, there is unhealthy amount of mention of piss. Wordcount around 700.

「Corrie Medical Officer Pons」 [ART]

03/03/2024 | OC: Pons, OC: Angel, OC: Jason, OC: Headshot | Art and lore of Pons |

#original clone character: lily #original clone character: blaze #original clone character: vorn #original clone character: headshot #original clone character: pons #original clone character: angel #original clone character: jason #original clone character: bolt #wow I actually have a lot of ocs!!!!#coruscant guard #the clone wars #star wars #tcw #clone ocs #my ocs #clone trooper oc #mamuzzy draws stuff #mamuzzy writes stuff

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clonemedickix · 11 months

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Rating: M

Word count: 7.5K

Pairing: OC Clone Medics

Warnings: Mention of medical trauma, mention of medical procedures, mention of prehospital care and trauma, discussion on pediatric care, alcohol use, implied substance abuse/impairment, implied sexual activity, medical humor, prehospital humor (it's snide y'all, that's the reality)

Excerpt Summary - Day One of the 1st Annual GAR Medic Conference

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First Day: Watch Out For That Drop!

Clones started to file into the appointed lecture room for the first class, finding tables laden with breakfast pastries, cereal and blue milk, large steaming carafes full of caf. There were a lot of bleary-eyed men wandering about, hungover from the previous night of drinking, laughing and story telling at various restaurants and bars. The group was fairly quiet, considering how loud and raucous they'd been the night before, and Volte was secretly feeling quite smug over the rest he'd managed to get before starting classes that morning. It wouldn't last; Kix was not about to agree to another night of simply going to bed. He'd come to party and relive stories, and he wasn't going to let Volte's boring personality drag him down.

Sawbones and Whiskey sauntered into the room, also looking more bright eyed and bushy tailed than most of the others gathered around the table. Sawbones quickly moved to the caf table, giving a few of the younger, hung over clones sharp looks that had them shifting out of his way. He even growled "MOVE!" at one that hadn't gotten the message from his body language. The groggy medic looked up in surprise, blinking as if the light were too hard, saw the grizzled old clone's expression, and quickly moved as ordered.

The first day of classes started with a bang, almost literally. "Advanced Airway Management for Facial Trauma: What To Do When Holes Are Present That Shouldn’t Be" discussed such things as facial trauma from shrapnel wounds, blaster wounds, and stab wounds. The medics were all educated and most, though not all, were seasoned by having been in the field in some capacity. Airway management was always critically important; the C-ABCs were the most crucial steps in first response to save a patient. One of the younger medics, Chance, leaned over to his neighbor, Heron, a medic from the 218th Company, and asked "What do they stand for, again?"

Heron stared at the little shiny brother for a moment wryly, as if wondering why the fresh kid was asking something so obvious, and then muttered back, "Catastrophic Hemorrhage, Airway, Breathing and Circulation."

"Ahhh, thanks, 'Vod," Chance whispered back, flashing him a little smile.

The subject matter and attendant images were pretty harsh for a first-thing-in-the-morning class, but medical people were strange. They could handle looking at evisceration over a plate of spaghetti, or discussing dismemberment and gross bodily functions while eating dinner. An outside observer might wonder what was wrong with these people - how they could be so numb to horrific images - but the men all sat sprawled back and half awake in their chairs, sipping caf and munching on breakfast pastries while listening attentively to the lecturer.

A particularly gruesome image with an attached story was of a nat born civilian injury, in which someone had contrived to shoot them in the face. The front of their jaw and a lot of their lower face was missing, creating an airway nightmare scenario for the medics to ponder. The presenter stopped the class for a moment to take ideas on how the students would secure the patient's airway.

Stretcher, a noticeably taller than average medic with the 327th Star Corps spoke up. "Was the patient breathing on their own? I mean, if they're getting air, maybe just support, scoop and run."

The lecturer nodded, saying, "That's one idea. Any others?"

Volte leaned forward a bit and spoke up. "Intubate the patient. Follow the bubbles - where the patient's breath meets blood there will be bubbles and that should identify the airway. Secure it with a laryngoscope blade and pop a tube in there, because there's no guarantee how long they'll be conscious enough to keep breathing on their own, no matter how fast you run."

"Good, very good. Following the bubbles is a legitimate method. Would you use a facial mask over a patient like this?," the teacher asked.

Heads shook to say no. Bagging a patient like that would cause the remaining airway, teeth and tongue structures to collapse and further occlude the airway. It would be a disaster without proper jaw thrust to keep the tongue from falling back over the trachea; better to use a high flow face mask until real securement was in place.

"Very good, class. Any other suggestions?," the lecturer asked. This was the last discussion portion of his class and always generated some good feedback.

Once again, Volte spoke up. "One could always place a surgical airway, bypassing the entire upper trachea and the wounded area, but there's also a couple of types of airway adjuncts from my General's home planet, called the Combitube and King Airway. They're a blind intubation method - they can end up in the esophagus and yet still provide oxygenation and ventilation because of the position of their side holes. They were designed for things like this, when you have to just stuff the tube in blindly and hope for the best."

"That's very interesting. Have you used these tools, or seen them in real life?" The instructor seemed quite intrigued; this whole convention was about teaching new methods, updating education and showing off new technology. He'd love to get his hands on these tools being discussed.

"I have seen the King Airway, used it in fact. My General has brought us several implements from her home world to use in the field. I've found they help a lot - cut down a lot of the time to treatment element and help us get the wounded off the field quicker." Volte held up his data pad. "I've got some images stored on my data pad I can show you."

Kix coughed loudly and covered his mouth as he gasped out, "Be sure it's not the pinup pictures!" Several men heard him and chuckled as Volte looked over at him with a disgusted grunt and elbowed Kix in the ribs.

Volte snapped back something he'd heard General Lin say in jest when telling a trooper to shut it and leave. "Get thee gone Satan, or I will smite thee with my data pad and tape your mouth shut with conduit tape." Kix chuckled and walked out the door to stretch his legs while Volte and the instructor had their nerd moment over the airway adjuncts.

The class emptied out for a break before the next session started, "Rapid Sedation: How to Restrain Your Patient in Fives Seconds Without the Use of Conduit Tape." As the men trickled back in from the refresher and more caf, Volte and Kix grabbed seats near their little core group, seeing all of the Corries clumping together as well. Sedating patients was always a topic of discussion and sometimes jokes with medics, especially the Coruscant Guard, who as a general rule had to contend with the element of drunk partygoers or recreational substance use on all levels of the Capital ecumenopolus. Even the rich, famous and Senatorial types weren't innocent of the occasional dalliance.

To everyone's surprise, the speaker was an old nat born training medic from Kamino, famous for her assertive, indomitable will, her small stature and fierce eyes, nicknamed 'Pockets'. Few patients or students ever crossed her, afraid of seeing the wrath boiling in her cool blue eyes. Pockets was small, but a hurricane-like force of nature, and those who'd challenged her in the wild always found she was ever ready to sidestep the battle with a quick stab of a needle in a well placed muscle. She was not there to play games, she'd say. Pockets was there to help, even if it meant taking you out of the picture so she could do her job.

The group of clones were fascinated that such a small female could do so much with so little; the men were all no shorter than six foot two, give or take a couple inches either way. It was a rare day when someone out of their head challenged them, but it still happened occasionally, and every clone to a man believed that little Pockets would have a bull reek fully immobilized in less than five minutes, by herself. Sawbones gleefully imagined her strapping him to a bed with tape and having her way with him - he liked bullheaded, assertive girls that didn't back down.

"There are hundreds of medications spanning the range of emergency antipsychotic medications to straight sedation and pain classes, which can also serve the same purpose. In extreme cases, where a patient's psychosis or high goes too far and they require the aid of us assisting breathing, a small cocktail is required." Pockets paused, glancing around the room at her attentive audience. They were all breathtakingly handsome, and their dark eyes blinking back at her wiped her train of thought for a second. She cleared her throat, grasping at the threads of her lecture once more. "It was actually developed for the use of sedating and securing the airway of mothers in obstetrical distress, needing immediate surgical delivery and a patient airway. Given in the appropriate order and dose, the treatment team was able to knock the patient out without causing them to vomit reflexively, putting the airway at risk due to aspiration.” Pockets took a quick breath and then finished by saying, “So thank the next pregnant lady you see for rapid sedation protocols- they did you a favor.”

The lecture continued on in the same vein, as she covered the different medications, a short blurb about their history and pharmacology, pharmacokinetics, dosing and route of administration. She covered a few medications that could be given without intravenous access, which still had to be injected. "Sometimes, it's just satisfying to stab a truly unruly patient with a needle and watch them finally hit the wall of sleep. Definitely more humane than what one former partner of mine did. He used every roll of conduit tape in the ship to mummify the patient to the spine board after the guy decked me. I fell out the back of the ship, which was thankfully still on the platform, and really cracked my head hard. My partner didn't take too kindly to that, and since we had a trainee aboard, he and the newbie wrapped that guy head to toe with the tape to hold him down and keep him from hurting anyone else. They left his eyes, mouth and nose free of course, but it's safe to say the guy got a free waxing he didn't plan for when he started his day."

Pockets retold the story with a pretty neutral tone, though her eyes glimmered a bit with laughter. To some, the story probably seemed a little hard on the patient, but to others, like the Corries, it was all too familiar, recalling the many times some patients were less respectful, kind and cooperative, bordering more on the side of unsafe and dangerous to the medics and their crew. No medical crew should ever have to fear for their lives for simply trying to help a person. The forward operating medics all shot glances at the Corries, knowing this was more in their realm of expertise; it was rare that a wounded man in the field acted with such abandon and violence toward their medical officers. Sure, they could and would use the knowledge gained from this class to better care for their brothers, but they didn't plan on having to sedate them for behavioral issues. Now, doing it as a prank... that conduit tape mummification gag sounded pretty attractive to several of them, eyeing their neighbor a little mischievously or thinking of a certain brother they'd love to see strapped to a board. A few day dreams included visions of toting said brother around the base while still taped on the backboard, leaning him against the wall like he was nothing more than a curious object while continuing on blissfully with their lives...

Jab, a junior medic attached to Phoenix Company, chuckled softly and murmured to his neighbor, Captain Jaro of the 16th Medical Battalion, "Those injectable sedatives would be fun to carry in some of our autoinjectors. Can you imagine? Guy gets rowdy and you're like, 'Calm down or you're gonna get a poke.' Guy keeps fighting, 'One, two... stabby stab.'" He chuckled again; he was notorious for giving meds off count - it always took the men by surprise, as they trusted him enough to believe he would get to three before poking them, but no, not Jab. He believed in getting the negative stuff over with as quickly as possible.

The Corries as usual were all sitting together in a group, and Voodoo leaned over to Patcher, saying, "So, this means we're completely justified in sedating unruly supervisors that don't take care of themselves too, right?"

Patch laughed and answered back, "I'm not sure what YOU did was necessarily within the protocols, but justified? ...Maybe..."

Siren fixed Voodoo with a stern look and said, "Fox completely deserved what you did! If he wasn't going to look after himself, it's the medic's job to do so. When it comes to the health of the troopers, the medic is in charge."

Voodoo grinned back at the support of his brothers. Their Marshall Commander, Fox, had a bad tendency to work himself to death and refuse food and sleep until whatever obsession was on his plate was taken care of. When Voodoo was still somewhat new to the Coruscant Guard, he'd seen the man get particularly haggard and ground down after a long hitch of watching Senators for some big wig meeting in the Capital. When the rest of the men started to complain about how short tempered, hangry and down right bitchy Fox was getting, Voodoo decided to take matters into his own hands. He made a pretense to visit Fox in his office, moved to look at something over Fox's shoulder, and quickly stabbed him in the neck with an autoinjector of sedatives.

Fox had reacted like a snake bit him, shooting out of his desk chair with a strangled, "What in karking HELL did you just give...me..." as he crumpled to the floor and immediately drew in a stuporous snore.

Voodoo stood over him with triumphant grin, then hailed Thorn over his comm device to come help him get the Commander to some place more comfortable than the floor. When Fox woke up two days later, he found a warm, nutritious breakfast spread on the table next to him, as well as a note from Voodoo that simply stated, "And I'd do it again."

When the class broke up, the men all wandered off to find lunch. They had a good while before the next class started, so some of the medics headed back to their rooms to relax, nap, read a book, watch some holo net. Kix and Volte left the convention center to walk down the street, in search of food they hadn't tried as yet; they didn't want to burn out on hotel food when there were small Hosnian Prime native shops within reach to try.

The after lunch program started off with one of the most taboo and terrifying subjects in the medical world: pediatrics. As a general rule, most people were afraid to treat children. They often approached that patient population with the attitude of 'children are just small adults', and 'a silent kid is a dead kid, but a loud kid is annoying.' About the only medic actually excited to attend the class was Minder, who ambled in quickly, found a spot on the front row of the class, and waited eagerly for the speaker to climb the dais. Volte and Kix decided to sit just behind their friend; they didn't want to seem too excited about the topic.

Volte was wary of kids, but wasn't averse to treating them. His General, in fact, kept a job on her home world of treating children hospitalized for various illnesses, and had told him many times of long term patients she'd gotten to know. She seemed to hold a real affection for small patients and always patiently imparted tips to Volte on how to get on their level, gain their trust so that treating them was easier. General Lin always asserted firmly that treating kids was FAR better than dealing with adults, hands down.

There were low chuckles, murmuring, and a few gasps when the presenter climbed up to the podium. The instructor was a small, sprightly young woman, dressed in a costume that looked like a cat, whiskers drawn on her face, with little pointed ears sticking out of her curly hair, and a long tail trailing behind her. She placed a small sheaf of papers on the lectern and looked up at her audience, seeing hundreds of wide, amused to shocked brown eyes staring back.

"Howdy! Welcome to 'How to Approach Younglings: They're Not Armed Bombs.' I’m Madi, and this lecture is going to contain a lot of personal experience, maybe even some tips you might find helpful in the future. The biggest take away I want you to learn is that kids don't have to be terrifying. They're all unique, fiercely brave little souls that will all make a mark on you in some way, most likely permanently. You'll never forget these little patients going forward, especially if you are lucky enough to form a bond with them."

Volte and Kix had both sat up to attention when they saw the speaker’s attire, and Kix looked over at Volte with an amused expression. Her costume was very telling; it left little to the imagination about her form and figure. Kix was staring guilelessly at the woman, amazed that she had the spirit and courage to appear before a room full of single, handsome rakish men dressed as a sexy cat; he was salivating over the thought of getting her comm channel numbers. Volte was simply trying to look attentive and interested for the speaker. Sawbones leaned forward to mutter in Volte's ear, "I'll definitely never forget her wearing that outfit, going forward..."

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to dress up like a cat for you. Let me tell you why, because it certainly wasn't to feed your filthy imaginations." Madi squinted at Sawbones knowingly; she'd seen him say something to Volte that had made the medic shift in his seat uncomfortably. "On my home world, medical professionals that specialize in children often dress up for different occasions, because wonder and imagination are both so important to a child. There is a whole day dedicated to dressing up as someone or something else for fun, and going around asking for candy from adults. At the facility I work at, we have a party on a sky bridge, where all the medical workers dress up for the children, to hand out candy and toys." Madi paused to see more of the clones were intrigued at the thought of her interacting with child patients on some distant planet, dressed up for the part in some tantalizing costume or other.

"Another important thing to remember about kids - they're not just small adults. A child's body is not mature; it's still going through a very complicated growth pattern, as is their mind. It's important to know the different developmental stages for a child, so you know how to interact with them appropriately. For instance, a toddler may hate you on sight, regardless of what you do, because it's within their developmental stage to be afraid of strangers. If you luck out enough to land on a character they're familiar with, you might be able to approach them more easily. Otherwise, you might just be in for a small rodeo."

Volte heard Voodoo mumble, "The kriff is a 'rodeo'?" This was something Volte had a lot of experience with; people were generally confused at many of the quips his General said in the course of a conversation. Even her own men were often forced to make her clarify what she was talking about, and would remind her “Basic... General. Basic." So it made Volte smile a bit seeing General Lin wasn’t the only person who needed a translator for their little euphemisms.

Madi looked at Voodoo a little dryly and huffed out, "Rodeo = wrestling match, same thing."

Sawbones laughed darkly and muttered, "I'd wrestle with her any day, and she can call it whatever she likes."

Rolling her eyes slightly at the male commentary, she continued on, outlining the different stages of mental and emotional development for children, then discussed multiple physical changes that occurred with growth. She wasn't to let their locker room humor stop her from enlightening them about pediatric care. "I've ended up watching holo shows and playing games with multiple patients of all ages, in order to gain and keep their trust. It's actually a very rewarding thing, knowing the kids look to you as something of a friend or protector."

She moved on to the next subject. "Gaining intravenous access on small children, especially infants, is incredibly difficult for those who don't use the skill on a daily basis. Those little veins are hard to see, tiny, and frequently like to roll away from the needle. In that case - and I've checked with your typical supplies - you have intraosseous needles that can be drilled either by hand or by purpose made drill, into the bone." Madi stopped and picked up a strange, burgundy colored power drill with a rather wicked looking, long plastic and metal needle on the end. She hit the trigger and the drill made a noticeable high pitched burrrr and Madi smiled a little wickedly, like an evil scientist with a surgical instrument. Kix's breath caught, his mind throwing images of her securing him to a bed and holding that thing over him threateningly. She stepped off the podium and handed it to Minder, telling him to pass it around so everyone could see it.

"What you're passing around now, is called the 'Easy IO' on my home planet. It's a purpose made power drill that holds an IO needle on the front by magnet, which makes it far easier to access the bone marrow. You find your appropriate site, hold it steady, hit the trigger, and drill that puppy home. Pop it off the drill, unscrew the top and voila, there is a connection beneath to attach IV tubing to." She paused as she saw Jab playing with the drill, his eyes a little dreamy about using it in the field. "Now, the two biggest problems with IO access is pain and pressure caused by infusing through the marrow, and securement so the line doesn't infiltrate into the surrounding musculature and tissue. That's a bad, bad deal. Down the road you also have to worry about osteomyelitis since placing these are always emergent and not usually the cleanest insertions; however, they can stay in up to 24 hours."

The drill had made it back to Carpal, who was hitting the trigger and watching the needle spin in a fascinated, morbid way. He'd heard everything she'd said; he had his hearing aids in so he could catch all the important information. When he got tired of listening, he would sometimes turn them off and snooze in his chair, so that he looked present, or at least like a body occupying a seat.

"These drills have made placing IOs FAR easier than in the past. Once the only choice was to manually insert the needle, by grasping the patient's leg, holding it as steady as you could, and drilling that wicked thing into the bone by hand. I've seen grown men shaking like leaves while inserting them, knowing they were causing pain but doing their best to help the child in question. And if your hand slipped, you could stab yourself through the back of the patient's leg - it was a rough procedure on everyone involved." She saw multiple clones wince in horror. "So the point is, drills are good, getting access is golden, medicate with a numbing adjunct first thing before you infuse volume or meds of any kind - it truly helps with the pain. Any questions?"

Madi surveyed the room with bright eyes, waiting to see if any were brave enough to ask anything. A few were. They tossed back questions and answers for a good thirty minutes and then were dismissed for a break before their next class. Minder immediately stood to corner the little speaker, to ask her more about her personal interactions with pediatric patients, generating trust between them, and how to cope with some of the harder cases. Kix grumbled in Volte's ear as he walked by “Gonna get her comm codes, watch me! See if I can't make that kitten purr,” he said with a salacious grin. Volte shook his head and kept walking; he imagined the girl had teeth and claws to go with her feisty personality, but he knew Kix was nothing if not persistent and bold.

The clones shuffled along to their next two classes in an upbeat mood; the day was nearly over and while it had been a long one, they'd learned a lot of valuable lessons and new information. They all felt it had been a productive day, and were looking forward to getting out, hitting the bar for drinks and camaraderie and laughs...maybe a pretty girl to flirt with or two. Kix had almost decided Hosnian Prime had no females, and that they'd come to some kind of torturous dating desert. Volte had laughed at his complaints, listening to him whine and grumble about the dearth of ladies to talk to, especially after the pediatrics instructor had turned Kix down hard; the rakish clone was still simmering with angst over his failure to woo the cute lecturer.

The last two lectures dealt with communicable disease and infection prevention. The first, 'Preventing Infections: As Easy As Wash Your Kriffing Hands!', dealt with exactly that - how hand washing was the most simple and expedient way to get microbes off of your skin. First, the man took roll call of every clone in the room by their CT number, making sure all were present. He called Kix's number, "CT 6...1...1...6...," waiting for a reply. When Kix didn't answer immediately, because he was too busy whispering something to Minder, the man repeated his number again in a sonorously boring voice. "CT 6...1...1...6...? No? He's not here?" Minder finally shushed Kix and gestured for him to answer the teacher back, so the man would move on. The speaker then blandly, monotonously explained how it was crucial to clean under fingernails while washing, as very harmful bacteria and viruses could live there as well, waiting like little ninja infection warriors to spread and attack new hosts.

He told horror stories of how some people, now infamous to history, had inadvertently spread diseases among the general populous. There was Dragon Pox Mary, who had been hired as a cook for a wealthy and influential family, and unknowingly spread Dragon Pox to them in their food, because she didn't believe handwashing to be necessary. And there was Nurse Katarina Belforto, who'd unfortunately not washed her hands either, and spread another deadly illness to babies under her care, killing or permanently maiming them. It was surprising that such a small thing as handwashing could be the single answer to saving lives.

The clones all sat back in their seats, many with their arms crossed over their chests, staring back at the utterly dry and boring teacher. The stories were vaguely gruesome and grim, but they couldn't over the speaker's dry, droning, slow way of talking. The instructor reached up halfway through his long session and pushed his thick glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, never looking up from the pages of his notes as he ambled on in his speech. If he'd looked up and chanced a glance at his students, he'd have seen glassy, tired, stunned eyes staring back at him like the empty windows of a vacant home - the men were just that bored by his monotonous drone. A few snorts and snores became softly audible after a few minutes, and Volte saw Whiskey suddenly jerk himself back upright after nearly falling out of his chair, having dozed off to sleep. Kix chuckled quietly and glanced at Volte out of the side of his eyes, his expression practically screaming, 'Holy kriff, this guy is boring!' Thankfully the class finally ended and the men all virtually sprinted from the room to wake up for the final lecture, hoping to get their blood pumping and find enough energy to make it through the homestretch of the day.

When they all filed back in for the final class, the men saw the presenter was a doctor at least a few of them had met before at the Grand Republic Medical Center. "Welcome to the final class of the day, men, 'Communicable Diseases: How to Avoid Them While Sitting in a Small Enclosed Space With Others.'" The men all chuckled a little at the title of the class, glancing to either side at their brothers, fellow prisoners of the current enclosed space.

The lecturer continued on, "I am Doctor Eric Coli, and we will discuss some of the finer points of how diseases can spread so easily in small areas, to some extent due to a lack of handwashing, as my fine colleague Sten Bein covered in his lecture." He paused, seeing the clones' eyes all start to glaze over at even the slightest mention of the previous discussion, and laughed softly. "I know you were all positively riveted by that class...," he said, completely devoid of irony. There were a few titters of laughter and a few murmured comments among the crowd; they knew the doctor was being sarcastic.

The medics all found Dr Coli to be witty and entertaining, as he described the horrors of some diseases and how they could spread like wildfire in small communities. He opened the floor up to take commentary on ideas about containing such contagion, since the clones to a large extent were not well versed in infectious disease. While violence was a disease, trauma on the battlefield was not, and the clones were all healthy, genetically enhanced, illness free men. They generally had no need of education on such subjects. To a man, they got their eyes opened that day.

Dr Coli discussed more than one awful disease, such as colonovirus, a notorious sickness that seemed particularly attracted to cruise ships. Victims found themselves overtaken within hours of exposure with severe vomiting and diarrhea, ideation of death (actually, wishing they could die because they were so miserable), and the urgent need for a refund on their trip. It was a yearly malaise, and had picked up multiple nicknames along the years such as 'The Cruise Ship Disease' or 'Montezuma's Revenge', or 'The Curse of The Out of Order Refresher.' The doctor even laughingly read them a poem he'd written about the awful malady when he himself had contracted it after a pleasure cruise to Naboo.

"Oh colonovirus, why dost thou assaulteth my bowels?

Each day I make offerings to ye gods of the refresher in stool softeners and fiber.

How hast I offended thee?

I pray, oh greatest of calamities, return to the depths of the hell from whence thou climbest!

I shall suffer the slings and arrows of your cursed hold no more.

For I shall defeatest thou by means of moist wipes and the washing of my unworthy hands.

By the power of the warm and comforting bidet, I shall vanquish thee!

The clones were all crying tears of laughter by the final stanza of his "Ode to Colonovirus," and all of the men present for the lecture agreed he'd won the best lecture of the day title, (clean) hands down.

He also covered a nightmare respiratory virus that was somewhat new to the galaxy, which up until recently none had any immunity to. The medics all vaguely recalled hearing about the disease and how the general public had reacted to it. People were barred from standing within six feet of each other. All had to wear masks that covered nose and mouth to prevent exposure to droplets. The general populace at large became terrified of their neighbors, terrified for their families, separated and isolated from any and all people. The galaxy had weathered the awful contagion as best it could, though in the end they were forced to more or less suffer through it until immune systems became well acquainted enough to fight back. Vaccines were created, medications patented, but millions of lives were lost before the disease began to release its vile hold on the galaxy.

The poor doctor had worn something of a haunted look while retelling the experiences of the awful virus. While the clones had been isolated and protected on Kamino, they realized the rest of the galaxy had suffered and died, losing loved ones, friends and family alike, fighting a different sort of war, though just as real as the one the clones were battling. The discussion got very real, very fast, and when the class finally ended, the men left feeling immensely lucky for having coasted right by that plague without any issues.

The sports bar was positively hopping with the raucous energy of the clones, finally freed from class and still brimming with amazement at the displays of the vendors. The new technology coming out had them buzzing, most especially the planned medical - evacuation dropship, complete with six bunks for patients. They could feasibly load a couple more in the floor of the ship, taking eight critically wounded with them on a first run. It had the men dreaming excitedly about the possibilities of saving more brothers from death or permanent maiming, if they could cut their field to treatment time down.

Volte and Kix were holding court at the bar, having shouldered their way in for a place there, and refused to give it up. Kix had pulled Minder in next to him so he could sit at one of the bar stools and rest his leg, while Sawbones stood next to Volte, a keen, watchful eye on the crowd of milling clones as they all chattered away about their classes for the day and whatever free goods they'd been given by the different exhibitors.

Whiskey ambled up, ordering a drink and then settling in next to the small knot of clones he'd taken to hanging out with. He and Sawbones started chatting, raising their bottles in greeting when Quarter strolled up to them.

Excitedly, Quarter asked Whiskey what he thought of the new medical platform. He knew they most likely would never need it on Coruscant, but it was neat to dream about it anyway. "I saw it had respiratory gas hook ups, built in monitoring cables that go to a central monitoring system, and even a suction system!," he burbled on. "That's got to make the forward operating medics happy, having all of those hardwired in."

"Oh heck yeah!," Sawbones grunted in reply. "It will come in handy that's for sure." Saw took a sip of his drink, his eyebrows quirking up at a thought, and mischievous light coming into his hard eyes. "Though that built in suction thing isn't a new idea. Right, Kix?"

Kix looked up when his name was called and said, "Huh? You summoned me?"

"Yeah! I was telling Quarter here that the built in suction system on that evac platform isn't a new idea. Is it, Vod?" Sawbones waggled his eyebrows a little and grinned at Kix in something almost of a leer. There was a story lurking there, which was backed up by the dull blush that crept up Kix's neck into his high cheekbones.

"Not nice, Sawbones," Kix said in a low voice, trying to warn his brother off of telling all his dirty secrets.

"Oh, I think it's completely necessary, don't you Quarter?" Sawbones grinned over at his other batchmate brother and saw him laugh, realizing where Saw was going with this. Kix gave Quarter a withering look, his face moving into a very resigned expression, knowing what was coming.

A small crowd had grown around their little group; somehow people always *knew* when tea was about to be spilled and gravitated toward it. The group had expanded to Scope, a medic serving under Commander Bly and General Secura, Friendly, an outgoing medic that typically patrolled Hutt Space with his battalion, Chance, a very young, red headed clone still working out of Kamino, Siren, Patcher, Patch, Voodoo, and Sentinel, the CMO of the 117th Recon Battalion. All were standing around, eagerly awaiting the gory details of the story about the infamous Kix of Torrent Company as a cadet.

"So, when Kix, Quarter and I were all baby medics back on Kamino, they had us go up on a training mission in one of the newer LA ATs that had some medical revisions. The two old training medics with us - they were like gods, you know? Full of knowledge and experience, untouchable by us shinies." Saw's eyes took on a slightly faraway look as he remembered back to the day in question. "Anyway, so these two clones, Duran and Morrow, take us up and were explaining the different switches and buttons on that particular ship, while we all sat around staring at them like dreamy kids. And I guess Kix looked particularly ripe for this little prank, because they focused on him."

Sawbones laughed ruefully, the memories making it difficult to get it out without giggling maniacally. "They were all, 'So this button is the suction button. When you push that button, it makes the LAAT go up, because this scoop on the bottom drops down, and changes the ship's altitude. Got it?' And Kix man, he was so wide eyed, like some young quivrey, staring back at them like they wore halos and light shone out of their ass.” The men in the group were starting to smile, a few low chuckles breaking out, envisioning the look on Kix's face as he bought this bantha shit story from the salty old medics. All of the men had been there in some way too; they were no strangers to hazing. Kix looked on with a sour expression on his face, though he was starting to smile against his will.

"Duran then goes on to tell Kix and the rest of us, 'So, if you hit the button again to turn off the suction, the ship will drop, because the scoop closed and it's no longer pushing the ship up, got it?' And Kix nods like the good little shiny he was - Vod was completely sold on this karking story," Sawbones laughed gruffly.

“Morrow like, leaned back in his seat and said, 'Okay kid, hit the button *now*, test it out.' And Kix did what he was told. And damned if that LAAT didn’t climb, just like they'd said it would." Saw paused to take a sip of his drink, while everyone shot some looks at Kix, half suspecting what was coming next.

"They had all of us at that point - we'd bought it hook, line and sinker," Quarter interjected with a low chuckle. "Gullible little babies that we were." The group all grinned and giggled, starting to realized what was about to happen.

Whiskey picked the story back up, "So then Duran tells Kix, ' Okay kid, hit the button to turn it off *now*.' Kix is all do do doooo (as Sawbones mimicked a silly kid ambling along cluelessly), hits the button, and then proceeds to scream like a girl as the ship bottomed out, dropping - I kriff you not - at least 500 feet in a second. We were all basically floating in air, zero gravity for a minute, watching our very short lives pass before our eyes, as Duran and Morrow laughed like two gargoyles at the group of shinies pissing themselves in front of them." Sawbones had forced the last sentence out through a stream of gurgling, wheezing laughs, while the rest of the group chuckled and gave Kix patronizing yet sympathetic looks.

"You know, those two karking a-holes never apologized for scaring a few years off our lives. I legitimately thought we were going to die," Kix snarled out, the embarrassing post, near-death experience still stinging. He looked back on it with humor, though he couldn't admit that to the group at hand. Kix saw Volte take a sip of his drink to hide a gleeful smirk, while Quarter chuckled at the memory. Kix gave his batch mate a hard look and sputtered, “Quarter, you've got no room to laugh - you screamed just as loud as I did and I know you had a short run of V tach. I thought we were gonna have to hit you with the paddles!”

Quarter positively giggled. “I can't deny it, they got us good. Those two jokers were some of the best training officers on Kamino. Force knows how they got away with even half of the stuff they did." Quarter shook his head in memory of the unparalleled shenanigans Duran and Morrow were famous for.

"Volte what about you? Got any good stories to tell from serving with the Dragon General?," Voodoo asked. "I heard Echo's first time up with her on that thing, it dove for a vulture droid and he screamed like a child over the open comm channels.” The group started laughing at the mental image of one of the more famous ARC Troopers embarrassing himself in such a way.

Volte chewed on some ice for a minute out of his glass, pondering the question. There were so many stories from Dragon Company, actually, most of which never saw the light of day. General Lin was rather infamous for tomfoolery herself, let alone the stuff she condoned within the ranks. "I wasn't there when that happened - that story was from the Battle of Teth and we weren't a Company yet. But she took Captain Primer up one day with her on that beast of hers, and when they got back he was holding onto her waist with his eyes screwed shut so tight we had to pry him off of her." The group all tittered with chuckles at that; Primer was known to be a brave, completely competent clone commander. They all struggled to imagine him afraid of anything, thought they all thought to a man they'd probably have taken any excuse to get their arms around General Lin if given the chance.

Quarter muttered softly into his glass, "You sure he was holding onto her purely out of fear?" He took a quick sip and then looked at Volte more squarely. "I've heard through the grapevine that he follows her for more reasons than just orders..." He saw Kix grin and gave his vod a wink, while Volte cleared his throat a little loudly and very obviously took a swig of his drink, shooting a quelling look at Quarter.

A new clone had joined the group about midway through the story, named Cheese. He was from the Mist Squad, under the 767 Recon Division, and the man loved anything related to gossip. Photography was a hobby of his, and he like to take group photos of his brothers when the opportunity struck. His eyes were sharp as he listened to the tea pertaining to the infamous General Lin. He suddenly pulled a data pad off his belt and held it up to snap a picture of the group, quickly blurting out "Say Cheese!," as he hit the photo button. The others stared back at him a little blandly; tolerating Cheese's habit was something most were used to by now. He'd already made the rounds through most of the clones getting proof of life many times over. They would soon realize the benefits of having allowed the somewhat socially awkward medic to record the conference in photos; the men would have many images of their brothers enjoying lighthearted moments, camaraderie and fun to look back on. Some of the men he captured in the holographic images on his data pad would not be there the next time the conference came about, and while all knew this, it was an unspoken, dark truth that moved beneath the surface like a cold current of air.

The party rolled on as more clones stuffed themselves into the bar, and Kix's night was made when Madi the young pediatrics lecturer popped up at the bar next to him, a little mischievous smirk on her cute face, one eyebrow arched as she watched Kix's face for a reaction. Volte did a double take at seeing her there, then laughed when he saw Kix's eyes nearly fall out of his head realizing she was there in person, waiting for him to speak to her. Volte looked over at Sawbones and Whiskey and sighed. "Guess I'll be crashing in your room tonight, boys."

A perky, bright voice answered him back from the other side of Kix. "Oh no! I wanted to get to know both of you."

Volte choked on his drink, his eyes going wide as he looked back at the girl in shock. She smiled back impishly.

Sawbones, Whiskey and Quarter all traded glances around, and Sawbones muttered, "We can leave the door unlocked in case you need the two of us to come rescue you at ANY point, Vod." He elbowed Volte and gave him a salacious wink, grumbling "Lucky bastards," as he sipped his drink, watching the trio head off out of the bar. Volte looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide like a prisoner stumbling off to the gallows, unsure of just what he'd suddenly been roped into, but unable to stop his feet from following the sprightly, cute girl leading him by the hand with a cheshire cat grin on her face, as Kix walked beside like a king ascending to his throne.

Credits:

Kix - CT 6116 Medic of Torrent Company, 501st Legion

Volte - CT 2403 Dragon Company CMO, property of CloneMedicKix

Sawbones - CT 2697 Wolfpack CMO, 104th Battalion, property of Wizardofrozz

Quarter - ARC 2525 Republic Intelligence medic, property of Hetalianskywalker

Whiskey - CC 6891 CMO 104th Battalion, property of Banks's-rat

Voodoo - CT 0127 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sev-on-Kamino

Cheese - CT 2437, Medic of Mist Squad, 767 Recon Division, property of Homemade-clones

Friendly - Medic of 387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Chance - CT 5243 Medic of Phoenix Squad, property of The-Bad-Batch-Baroness

Patch - Coruscant Guard medic, property of Sunshinedaydream

Patcher - CT 1110 Coruscant Guard CMO, property of Stargazingbunny

Siren - CT 6161 Coruscant Guard medic, property of 523rdrebel

Sentinel - CT 26-0207, CMO of 117th Recon Battalion, property of Liluthenerd

Scope - CT 4466 Medic of 327th Battalion, property of Mythical Illustrator

Stretcher - CT 3880, Medic of 327th Star Corps, property of A-single-tulip

Heron - Medic of 218th Company, property of King-chaos-world

Jab - Junior medic of Phoenix Company, property of Multi-fandom-madness

Captain Jaro - CT 1926, CMO of 16th Medical Battalion, property of Sweetmugofcocoa

Minder - CT 6334-2 Jedi Medical Company, property of Mythical Illustrator

Carpal - CC 6666 Coruscant Guard medic, property of Mythical Illustrator

Taglist!

@mythical-illustrator @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @moonlightwarriorqueen @523rdrebel @king-chaos-world @starrrgazingbunny @the-bad-batch-baroness @swarovski-yoda @homemade-clones @hetalianskywalker @a-single-tulip @banksys-rat @sev-on-kamino @vodika-vibes @sunshinesdaydream @liluthenerd @sweetmugofcocoa @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @villanousace @theogfulcrum22 @starrylothcat @anxiouspineapple99 @mire-draws-things @cloneloverrrrr @mandos-mind-trick @padawancat97 @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @isthereanechoinhere96 @jediknightjana @wackylurker @starqueensthings @dickarchivist @amorfista @marierg

EMS dividers by MEEEEEEEE!

Final Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

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mwolf0epsilon · 11 months

Text

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 24: Hunted Down

Summary: Kix and Twitch make an extremely upsetting discovery, but also find out that there is a way to safely deal with the parasites. They just have to set a trap to ensnare some very big prey without getting caught in the act...

Warning: N/A

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

Here's what Tup and Dogma currently look like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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Even though Kix could see that the kid was just about ready to collapse from pure exhaustion, Twitch surprised him by keeping up with the group on their way down to the basement.

It was a remarkable feat of resilience on the rookie's part, considering he was walking with a limp and barely keeping his head up. It was also a show of pure stubbornness, since Twitch obviously refused to not see this whole mess through to the end.

Despite being in such rough shape.

They had begun the journey downwards once Coric had been brought out of shock and tended to. The older medic having had to endure an excruciating amount of pain, as Kix and Twitch had both done their best to clean the horrific wound on his shoulder. Only after the injury was clean enough and tightly bandaged, was he anywhere near ready to make the trek down the hatch, and along the corridor that led to the basement's separate lift system.

The CMO was, of course, lagging behind while visibly staggering with each step. Rex keeping a close eye on his fellow veteran trooper while he stood nearest to Sponge, who'd since woken up confused and heavily concussed. But at least both were on their feet. Unlike Pitch who, even though he was no longer paralyzed by Dogma's venom, was unable to walk at all due to the sizeable hole in his thigh.

It was very likely he'd need some extensive physio-therapy to regain use of the leg, once he'd healed enough to put any weight on it. That is, if he did not need to completely relearn how to walk... The vein Dogma had hit had been a direct pathway to the heart, and was thusly incredibly sensitive to damage. They couldn't be sure he hadn't been crippled for life. Not without their scanners at hand, and they couldn't stop to go a few floors above to search for any.

They were thusly short three medics in the end. Two of which needed supervision while they walked because they were so unsteady on their feet, and the third who was dependent of Fives carrying him to get anywhere at all.

It honestly made sense why Twitch felt the need to push himself to help. Even if it made Kix's heart twinge with both pain and guilt. But, as much as he would like it for his kih'vod to rest, they couldn't spare the amount of time he'd need.

They had already waited too long...

"How deep did they think they needed this basement to be?" Fives grumbled as they settled in the lift for the long way down, finding at least one tiny mercy in the form of built-in seating.

"Deep enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention." Rex shrugged, letting both Coric and Sponge lean against his shoulders as they sat down. "At least there's no obnoxious music..."

"Thank goodness for the littlest of kindnesses, am I right?" Fives snorted, leaning his head back against the lift's paneled walls. Eyes closing as he tried to relax. "If I hear that stupid soap commercial's jingle any sooner than I have to, I'll kill everyone in this lift and then myself..."

"Which one? The Nabooian beaches one with all the bikini babes, or the one about Jakku's beautiful white sands and guided luggabeast tours?" Rex asked sarcastically.

"Doesn't matter." Fives huffed in response. "Both should be classified as psychological torture..."

The banter was comforting in a way. Almost normal, in the face of such stressful events like the ones that had transpired not even a a full hour ago. It made Kix feel a little more like himself (a little more human), just hearing his brothers attempt some idle chatter.

Stars only knew they all needed the brief respite...

He noticed that Twitch was running his fingers through his messy hair, wincing anytime they got caught in the clumps that had gotten stuck together with dry blood.

Before they'd left the lobby he had asked for Kix's canteen so that he could clean his face with some water, despite it being so cold that it might be dangerous to do so. But Kix hadn't denied him that chance.

Not when Twitch had looked so stressed out.

He looked a little better, now that his face wasn't covered in blood. But he was still shaky and very clearly tired. Yet that determined little spark didn't leave his eyes. He would rest only when this was all done and dealt with, Kix could tell.

Twitch wanted to help put an end to all this misery and terror.

"Lift's starting to slow..." The Captain calmly pointed out. "We're almost there."

"Yeah... Just hope we get what he came here for." Fives sighed, running a hand over his face and trying to shake himself out of the sudden bout of apprehension. "What am I saying? Of course we will. We didn't come this far for nothing."

Sometimes Kix really envied Fives's confidence. Even if it made him a bit of a hopeless dreamer. But then again, if all of them were realists then morale would have tanked long ago...

Eventually the lift did come to a stop, the doors opening up to reveal a slightly less frigid room full of server towers and shelves stacked to the very top with equipment. As well as all kinds of high powered fans and liquid nitrogen tanks. Likely the cooling systems keeping everything from overheating.

On first glance, they could immediately tell the entire place was a maze where one could easily get lost in. Lucky for them they had a map. One which easily led them all the way to the main console.

Twitch immediately settled next to Kix, taking up one of two available chairs and beginning to search up the terms they needed. Behind them Rex and Fives both focused on the three injured medics, keeping them tightly wrapped up in their blankets and letting them rest for the moment.

Kix had to make sure Twitch's own blankets stayed on while the younger medic tapped away furiously on the console. His eyes darting from one line of information to the next, as he concentrated on his task.

"How's it looking over there?" Fives asked, which earned him a slightly frustrated growl from their kih'vod.

"Working on it... I'm running a translator while I search." Twitch pointed out. "Even with all the extra memory and cooling systems, this entire setup is slower than our old datapads..."

"I'm not surprised. The databanks are extensive..." Kix hummed in thought as he watched the screens. What he couldn't do if he had all this medical knowledge at the tip of his fingertips. Just one search away from the perfect treatment plan, instead of having to guess based on basic modules he'd studied ages ago...

"Got it!" Twitch exclaimed, looking relieved as he finally found what he'd been looking for. Then, after a few minutes of reading through, the little smile he'd had on his face began to drop.

"...You good kid?" Fives asked.

Scrolling back up, Twitch reread what was on the screen. Kix did the same, a pit forming in his stomach as he began to process what he was reading. A horrid realization dawning on him.

"....The changes are permanent..." He whispered to himself, but the ARC must have heard him all the same.

"Kix?"

"There's no way to cure them... The changes are permanent." The medic hid his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream of frustration. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, not when the parasites had essentially rewritten their vode's DNA in such a drastic manner...

The moment they left orbit with any of their transformed brothers in the state that they were now, they were as good as dead. The natborns would send them away, back to Kamino, to be dissected or worse...

They'd been foolish to hope for anything less.

"So they're stuck like this forever? Acting like... Like monsters?!" Fives was clearly upset by the news. So were Rex, Coric, Sponge and Pitch who looked as equally distraught.

"Not necessarily..." Twitch responded. "Their bodies are altered beyond repair... But there's a way to at least get rid of the parasites that are controlling them."

He scrolled back down, pointing to the only treatment plan available for the Umber Blight. Reading through it, Kix's anxieties did not lessen in the slightest. It was incredibly risky.

"We have the equipment we need here." Twitch continued. "We just need... We just need to find a way to get one of them in here to make sure it works on them..."

"What do you mean IF it works? I thought you just said there was a way to do it?" Rex frowned, looking towards Twitch with both confusion and concern.

"It's only been done on Umbarans, sir." The younger medic explained, bringing up several images to further make his point clear. "The alterations done to them are similar to what we saw with Tup and Dogma. But, because we are biologically not the same, there's clearly some key differences..."

"Which means re-calibrating the operation theater and all the equipment to the right specs..." Coric groaned loudly, understanding the risks. "We need one of them to try it out on, and there's no guarantee we'll get it right..."

"....So there's a risk we could kill them with this procedure?" Fives asked, sounding incredibly disturbed by that prospect.

The silence that followed more than answered his question...

Tup had fallen asleep which had helped to further relax Dogma. Despite his failure as a Drone, the current injuries that made him useless to his Hive-Leader and Hive, he'd been forgiven and held closely. Shown mercy he did not deserve because he was a bad Drone and a bad brother.

It warmed his heart.

Made him feel all nice and fuzzy knowing that Tup wasn't angry about his obvious deficiencies as a servant. Maybe he'd done enough in the beginning to prove his worth? Maybe he could still make amends...

But the question was how.

Looking at his sleeping Hive-Leader, Dogma couldn't help but let his antennae droop slightly. He needed to make it right, to show Tup that he could do this. That he could get him those monsters that had dared to attack them. Starting with the fluffy haired one. The one who'd bitten his Hive-Leader and caused him such terrible pain, that it had knocked him out of the sky.

He just needed a chance!

The door to the medical facility opened. Perking up, Dogma looked towards it in surprise before looking back down at his sleeping brother. Tup was so deep in slumber that he hadn't noticed the change at all. And Dogma wouldn't dare disturb his Hive-Leader's much needed rest. Not when he too had a healing wound.

A thought crossed his mind which got the Drone to slowly wiggle his way out from his brother's side. Careful so as to not wake him. So as to not ruin the surprise he had in store for him. He'd ambush the pests all by his lonesome, sting them before they knew what hit them, and drag them all to his Hive-Leader wrapped up in a silken bow.

He'd make Tup proud of him! Make him happy! That's all Dogma really wanted! What he most craved.

With this all-consuming desire to serve and to please ignited and fueling him, Dogma sneaked forward. Keeping an eye on the medical facility's open doors. His antennae twitched as he took in the scents of sterile cleanliness and clone alike.

He was being careful so as to go unnoticed. They'd picked a spot where they remained hidden while still being able to carefully watch the hospital for movement. So far he hadn't seen anyone come out, but surely they must be near the doors to set off the automated opening system...

That said, the closer Dogma got the less sure he felt. He couldn't see anyone... Which made no sense. If no one was near the doorway, then why had the doors opened?

Something didn't feel right...

Getting as close as he could before the crippling cold that billowed out of the building made it near impossible to do so, the Drone squinted inside at the well lit lobby. It was completely empty... Taking a deep breath and sticking his head inside, he found that his targets weren't hiding by the threshold either.

What he did see was a damaged panel with sparking wires.

It clicked too late what this actually was. So late in fact that he never even saw the attack coming, nor did he have the time to cry out for help. All that really registered was hands pinning his limbs down, including his injured wings which hurt like hell at the contact. Then something sharp piercing the side of his neck in a gap between armored scales.

And then Dogma knew nothing...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone medic kix #clone medic coric #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #clone ocs #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch #clone medic sponge

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matchademi · 1 year

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Falls is done. He can't do this war anymore. He can't keep losing brothers, both in his medbay and out of his grasp. He lost Hardcase,Tup has disappeared, Fives is staying under the radar, Kix is MIA, and the entire Guard deserted a year ago. He knows why. And he doesn't blame them. He has seen how the Senate and the GAR have treated them. He knows about the Blackout missions. So he isn't angry. He feels abandoned, but he understands. And it makes his own escape easier, knowing that Dogma is with them, his batchmate alive and well with the rest of the Kit'ikas. He feels horrible about leaving Torrent, his captain. But he can't keep fighting. He isn't meant for the front, and despite his entire upbringing and what was coded into him. He isn't meant for war. He is meant to heal and help, and being CMO is breaking him (although he knows that he has been long broken since Umbara). He needs to leave, and he has a plan on how they are currently on a planet that has a lot of small fighters around. Falls knows that they are basically rusted bolt buckets, but it's a way out of the Stars forsaken war, so beggars can't be chosers. He has planned this out, take the night watch before sneaking to the ship he has been secretly fixing so it can fly and get into hyperspace and leave as fast as he can so he isn't caught. So Falls continues on with his day, trying to save brothers who are lost causes, getting shot, and since he is the senior most medic now, he has to patch himself. And finally, nightfall comes, as planned. He takes the night shift and waits for his brothers to fall asleep before taking his armor off and scattering it around, Falls then takes off the shirt blacks, throwing it behind a rock, pulling on his sweater that Stitch made him before booking it to the fighter he set aside. He grinned as he sits in the cockpit and slowly turning on the engine, doing small checks that he watched Hawk do thousands of times before taking off. His grip tight until he gets off planet and finally into hyperspace. "I'm free...I don't have to fight anymore...." Tears slowly drip down his face as he cheers before he realises. He has nowhere to go "kark.... I don't have a ton of fuel....well, I'll figure out more later on. I gonna nap for an hour.." he slowly dozes off.

An hour later, he gets a call on his com, and he immediately panics. "Am I caught? Kark kark kark..." he looks at the message before realizing it's from Tech. It's coordinates, ones that he can get to. He knows he should be careful and nervous as to how the Bad Batch knew he deserted, but he shrugs it off after rescuing Echo. The anger between between them disappeared, and they became close, so he trusted Tech to not stray him wrong and input the coordinates before watching the blue swirl of hyperspace. He zones out until he is out of hyperspace coming face to face with a ship. It's smaller than the ventetors that he is used to, but compared to his dinky little fighter, it's huge, so he immediately panics before seeing the fox insignia on the side and relaxs a bit before panicking again since he knows the guard is protective of their own and might view him as a threat. His fighter beeps as a transmission beeps, Falls takes a deep breath awnsering "Nightwatch to unknown ship identify yourself" he thinks its Static, who he doesn't know all that well. "My name is Falls. I'm a deserter of the GAR. I'm not a threat, was close to the guard, but if you don't want me around, I just need a little bit of fuel‐"he gets cut off "don't be a idiot Ori'vod. You can come aborde." It's obviously Dogma that says this, and Falls smiles,"understood Ma'ika, landing now. " he slowly lands his ship. It's bumpy, and he nearly crashes, but he lands safely. He quickly climbs out with his hands up, just in case when he feels himself get vode piled by the Kit'ikas. "I can't believe you're here!!!" Steeljaw cheers. Falls feels himself get emotional. He was missed. They still care about him... he hears someone clear their throat, Falls looks over and tenses, seeing Commander Fox "hello sir I'm sorry for the intrusion I just deserted the GAR, I know I wasn't followed, I got the coordinates accidentally via Tech from the Bad Batch. No one outside of the Guard,Tech, and myself knows where you are, and I can lea‐" his panicked babbling gets cut off "we are not asking you to leave actually were were all hoping you could stay. The Kit'ikas adore you, and the medics would wring my neck if I asked you to go. So what do you say?" Fox smiles, and Falls can't do anything else, but agree, the pile he is under cheers, when Arcane and Falls basks in it.

He finally feels at home

(There will be a part two! Also, thank you, SOOOO much Ori'vod @t3mpest98 for letting me use your OCs and wiggle into your AU)

#clone medic falls #clone medic oc #oc: steeljaw #oc: arcane #Kit'ikas #nightguard au #tempest’s ocs #clone trooper dogma #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper oc #hehehe yes this will all be fluff im not that mean #oc: static #commander fox

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petrifiedforests · 7 months

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Writing Patterns (Tag Game)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by @cacodaemonia and @seascribbling , thank you, this looks very interesting!

Boil gives a last playful nip to Rex's bared throat before pulling away. (a scout's insight)

They've been taking it slow, really slow. (Love the hair)

“What.” (Sleeping Alone)

“No, you don't get it!” Echo almost yells. (The Hottest)

Dogma stares at the energy field that closes his cell. (Be Alright)

“Now you see what happened was that we came across this plant and it had these huge yellow spikes, and you know, sir, CMO Kix always says, that those are probably venomous–” (In full accordance)

Pillar returned from his shift to an empty bunk in the barracks. (Thread by Thread)

“Hey,” Hardcase gasps, “remember when–” He breaks off with what is decidedly not a whimper. (In Plain Sight)

The med bay was never quiet. (Quiet and Calm)

“Sergeant, are you hurt, too?" (More than words)

Ihdihedhs I like dialog to start fics a whole lot more than I realized, that's half of them 😆😆 Like dang

I like words that hint to previous happenings (like gives a last nip, returned, you, too?) without having to spell them out, too.

I'm no pressure tagging @thornhands , @trudemaethien and @curls-cat

#writting patterns #tag game

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tup-ika-5385 · 10 months

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Knockout Ch. 9

Chapter Summary:

After successfully escaping from the Kaminoans, Fives, Dogma, and the others try to uncover what exactly happened on Kamino, attempting to understand the true danger of the secret they've uncovered.

Chapter 9: Execute Order 55

“Stop worrying about your hair, Tup. It’ll grow back.” Hardcase rolled his eyes as Tup examined his reflection in the medbay mirrors, now on the Protector, safe with the 104th.

“It’s not the hair I’m worried about.” Tup grumbled, fiddling with his newly acquired glasses. Tech had shown him how to adjust his HUD settings to compensate for his blurry vision, but he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. His whole life, he’d strived to be different from the millions of identical faces around him, but now that he had that visible difference, a part of him instinctively shrunk back at the weakness it illuminated.

Hardcase took a moment to examine Tup and his new look, a flash of understanding in his eyes before saying, “Well, I think they suit you, vod.” After all, he knew what it felt like; to look in the mirror and see someone unfamiliar. But he was learning to adjust to that with time, and his brother’s encouragement had been a big step in that direction.

At Hardcase’s comment, Tup cringed slightly. Compared to the heavy gunner’s injuries after Umbara, he’d gotten off pretty light. “I’m being a di’kut; it’s not that big a deal.”

Hardcase frowned slightly and put a hand on Tup’s shoulder, encouraging him to look up. “It’s big to you, vod. S’okay to take a little bit to adjust.”

At that, he gave Tup an encouraging smile, which Tup returned. “Now come on, let’s get back to the others.”

Rejoining the rest of the group, Tup smiled as he saw Patch, busy reconnecting with one of the younger medics who he swore, “must’ve grown since I last saw you; what are they feeding shinies these days?”

There wasn’t much more they could do at the moment, with Kix and Korbel, the 104th’s CMO, booting up the scanner. Korbel himself was originally 212th, but had transferred after the Malevolence, and luckily had training in surgical procedures, which might just come in handy.

“So… who’s going in?” Hardcase asked, glancing nervously at the scanner. Even after all his time in medical, he’d never claim to be a fan of loud, claustrophobic machinery.

“I’ll do it.”

The others turned to Fives as he volunteered, but given the ARC trooper’s protective instincts, no one was surprised as he started shucking off his armor preparing to be scanned.

Giving him a scrutinizing look, Korbel finally nodded before gesturing to the scanner. “Alright. Sit and I’ll start the scan.”

As a medic, Korbel was a pretty no-nonsense type. Less familiar vode found him aloof at times, but where his words were a little rough around the edges, his actions displayed nothing but care for his vode.

Now, Korbel wasn’t quite sure about this whole chip thing, but if Patch was worried about it, he’d give it a look.

Climbing into the scanner, Fives tried not to fidget, and it wasn’t long before the room was filled with its quiet whirring.

“Are you finding anything, Lieutenant?” General Plo rumbled curiously. After hearing their story, he’d decided to stick around medbay for a while. Apparently, he’d sensed something important about their situation and had decided that it was more important than overseeing their next deployment, which he’d left to Commander Wolffe.

In Korbel’s opinion, his medbay was getting a little crowded with all these bystanders, but he knew better than to get between a Jetii and their force osik.

“I’m… not seeing anything.” Korbel frowned. “Are you sure it was the right side— no, not you!” He protested gruffly when Fives shifted to respond, still in the scanner.

Kix was the one to reply. “Yes, but we had to use a level five scanner to find it.”

Korbel sighed. “Of course you did.”

Nothing could be that easy, not with the 501st involved. “We don’t exactly have one of those hiding in the storage closet. I could try again, I guess?”

Placing a hand on Korbel’s shoulder, General Plo interjected, gesturing towards the scanner. “If I might offer some assistance?”

Korbel raised an eyebrow but allowed the General to step closer. “Not sure how it’ll help, but you’re welcome to think nice thoughts, if you think it’ll make a difference, sir.”

As long as it didn’t throw off the scanner’s alignment, the General could do what he wanted. So with that, Korbel re-ran the scan, a gentle grip on Fives’ knee to remind him to stay still. General Plo closed his eyes under his mask, deep in concentration, one hand outstretched.

When the machine let out a little affirmative beep, Korbel wasn’t sure whether to be surprised. “Well, what do you know? Maybe your jetii osik is actually worth something.”

General Plo chuffed under his mask, amused as always by the medic’s blunt demeanor. “Indeed.”

They repeated the scan with a couple other troopers in the room, confirming that Fives, Kix, Patch, Hardcase, and even Dogma all had an undetermined mass in the correct region, although…

“Why does mine look different?” Dogma asked, frowning at the scan.

Korbel frowned, adjusting the viewscreen as he took a closer look. “If this is something implanted by the long-necks, there’s bound to be some variations from trooper to trooper. They like to claim their process is perfect, but…” He shrugged before continuing. “Your batcher is the one who got his chip removed, right? Can I see it?” He asked, and Kix nodded in agreement before passing the chip off to Korbel, who abruptly moved to a nearby microscope to take a closer look.

“I see those technological components you were talking about. Should get Boost to take a look.” He suggested to General Plo, who nodded in agreement. The other trooper was surprisingly adept at data collection.

“Actually, we already had someone do that, but if he could help us sift through everything we’ve collected, I’d appreciate it.” Fives said. There was a lot of data to go through, and Echo had always been the more technologically-adept member of their duo before he’d died.

Korbel nodded, using his comm to message the other trooper before going back to the scan. “See, if we compare your scan with the one from… Tup, was it?” Tup gave him a nod as he continued. “His is just a mess, but this region here is especially kriffed up.”

Tup winced slightly at the description but didn’t disagree as he continued, now addressing Dogma. “ –But in your case, it’s missing entirely. What did you say these things do again?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Fives said, voice suspicious. “A trooper from Clone Force 99, Tech, had mentioned an inhibitor chip, meant to inhibit more aggressive instincts in troopers, but I wouldn’t trust the Kaminoan’s word on it. Plus there was that business with the other medics— Dogma knows more about that than me.”

At that, he turned to Dogma, who bit his lip before responding hesitantly. “I-It was just after I’d finished my junior medic exams… a Kaminoan came in and said something about an Order 55, and that a trooper in med bay with Tup’s description had tampered with proprietary property, and when the Kaminoan ordered them to kill Tup– they just went with it!” Dogma’s fists clenched tightly as he finished his uncharacteristic outburst. That earned an uneasy murmur from the others in the room, and a contemplative hum from the General.

Dogma hadn’t been sure at first, what to think about the 104th’s Jedi General. But General Koon had been the first one to offer them some food from the mess hall when they’d arrived, and he’d noticed when Tup had been lagging behind earlier, slowing the group’s pace and then asking Korbel to prepare a bed in medbay for him, which he knew Tup had appreciated.

But as the group continued explaining what had happened, Dogma found himself wondering what could’ve caused those other medics to go after Tup— and feeling unbearably grateful that he hadn’t as well.

___________________

It had been nearly five hours since he’d been introduced to ARC trooper Fives, not before giving Patch a welcoming hug that nearly bowled the medic over, and by now, most of the other troopers were fast asleep. They’d left Kamino’s orbit during that time, and were making their way towards a short supply rendezvous.

After that, they’d been assigned a… rather delicate mission past Separatist lines that required comms blackout, and privately, Boost wondered if the 501st troopers had plans for getting back to their own battalion, but for now, he focused on the task at-hand. Namely, deciphering the chaotic amalgamation of data work that masqueraded as organization on the datapad Tech had given Fives back on Kamino. Finally, they were starting to make some progress.

“You see, this kind of thing relies on a dual verification system. Can’t access the info in the chips without the proper codes— thankfully, it looks like your friends in Clone Force 99 took care of that, so assuming the Kaminoans organizational system isn’t like this nightmare we’ve been sifting through for the past five hours—“ Boost trailed off, causing Fives to look up from his own screen, eyes widening.

“Are you seeing this?”

Boost’s voice shook, just the tiniest bit as he adjusted the settings on his datapad, eyes sharp with disbelief. Fives’ stomach sank sharply as he read the screen in front of them.

Orders. Nearly one hundred orders, itemized and detailed to the smallest detail, and Boost couldn’t fight a chill as some part of his subconscious seemed to recognize them as familiar. Scrolling down, he looked for the order Dogma had mentioned earlier.

Order 55: The target has been identified as a traitor to the Republic and a security risk. Engage in covert efforts to eliminate target and other knowledgeable parties.

But even this was nothing compared to Order 66.

“All the Jedi?!? What about the adiik– the padawans; kriff, even the tubies!?” Fives cried out. Boost’s reaction was more contained as he gripped the datapad almost tight enough to shatter. “I mean, sure, Krell was a traitor, but there’s no good reason for such a widespread order to be given, let alone having it seared into our brains!”

Boost’s jaw was set in a tight grimace as he replied. “We should alert General Plo, get these things out of our heads. If these things really do what this says they do, the Kaminoans may be getting suspicious, and more than a little desperate if they haven’t found your trooper by now.”

He couldn’t stop himself from scrolling through the rest of the orders, his face going white as a sheet when he saw orders for Self-Termination, Civilian Strikes, and other horrifying directives.

“Come on, there’s no time to waste.” Fives urged him, feeling similarly shaken, before they rushed to wake a certain Jedi General.

_______________________

A blinking comm light in his dimly-lit quarters earned a tired growl from Commander Wolffe. None of his troopers could be di’kutla enough to wake him at this hour, especially not right before a Black Ops Rescue mission. It could be Rex, he supposed, trying to check up on his errant troopers, but usually Rex was considerate enough to avoid comm-ing him this late into the sleep cycle.

So with an air of ‘This better be important,’ Wolffe picked up the comm, biting down on an acerbic retort when, rather than a brother’s apologetic tones, a cool, emotionless, and overtly superior voice filled his barracks, and then everything went blank.

“Commander Wolffe, Execute Order–”

_______________________

To be continued...

AO3 Link:

#I am once again terrible at updating my fics on tumblr #if you want to stay up to date you'd have better luck on ao3 #this one's been up for a few days #apologies to anyone who thought it was a new chapter #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper hardcase #my fics #my stuff #I'm pretty sure chapter eight is on tumblr somewhere #pls let me know if it isn't #chips arc happens but a few weeks early #swtcw fic #swtcw fanfic

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