#of scrolling past self insert fics really really fast in the tag akjshfalskjdf

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Title: Sixth Visit Rating: T Characters: Medic Kix, OC Words: 796 Tags/Warnings: anxiety and PTSD mention, self harm implied, csa implied Summary: Kix learns that he knows nothing.

Kix examines his hands--broad palms, a blue vein slowly making its way down the back of one, and short, perfectly cut nails. Five dexterous fingers on each hand.

A medic who knows how to heal knows how to kill. The mantra from his training days on Kamino rushes forward now as it always does, making itself heard in his once-rare moments of utter helplessness.

The trooper before him hangs his head from the weight of his own exhaustion and shame. He shrinks like one wrong move from Kix would send him flying out of the medbay.

It wouldn't be the first time. Kix is careful with his next action: he pulls his glove off.

A medic who knows how to heal knows how to kill. Kix silences the voice.

"Lake, look at me," Kix orders gently, the barest tone of a medic's command creeping into the edges.

The shiny's fingers curl like they're making the decision for him. A tendon in his left forearm bunches with the action. Kix can't see the right one because it's covered in gauze.

Medic training on Kamino was intense, brutal. Kix was learning how to patch brothers up even before they'd received live fire training. A good medic was at the level of a Coruscanti trauma surgeon--but that did not mean they were trained in patience. Kix had to learn that himself.

He takes one of the kid's hands in his own. "Lake..."

"How do I make them stop?" Lake asks, his voice rough from hyperventilation and the last dregs of adrenaline. "How do I...I want them to stop."

The medic trainers on Kamino insisted that they would know more than the average Coruscanti doctor. In moments like these, Kix feels like he's learned nothing. No amount of simulations and cadavers and field surgeries would teach him how to get a shiny to open up about the source of their panic attacks.

Lake is far from the first or last trooper to come to Kix in tears, on the verge of heaving, and unable to breathe. He's not the first or last trooper to shake so badly he can hardly stand. He's not the first to beg for a cure while denying there's even a problem in the first place.

For all their supposed superiority over Coruscanti doctors, Kix sure did have a lot to learn from them about panic attacks, anxiety, and PTSD. And, once again, his training did not prepare him for what would become a common sight in the GAR: trauma older than the war and borne from things other than just constant violence and bloodshed. Kix has a sinking feeling that Lake's is one of those cases, but he can't be sure unless the shiny talks.

"Son...do you think you could help me help you figure this out?" Kix asks, shifting just a bare centimeter closer on his chair. With Lake perched on the exam bed, Kix is lower than him, but the medic still has to bend his head to catch the shiny's eye.

"I don't know..." Lake mumbles.

Kix can already see the walls going up. Biting down his frustration, he racks his brain for another approach. Evidence gathers in his mind's eye: five or so similar visits, all with no resolution; odd behaviors in the mess, distancing, silence, flinching at key words or actions that Kix still has to figure out; reports from his own squadmates on all the things he could be heard saying in his sleep. Worrying things. Disturbing things.

Kix presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth, willing down the anger at his own incompetence. "Lake," he tries again, taking his other hand in his. The shiny doesn't resist. "I know you can feel that something's wrong. You brothers are getting worried. I'm worried. There's something eating at you that you're trying to hold down--and I understand that impulse, I do. We're soldiers and we were bred not to respond to the pain, but this isn't healthy."

Kix had made the mistake of mentioning Kamino during Lake's last visit, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as the trooper shut down, retreating somewhere deep inside himself. He left like nothing had happened.

Lake's lower lip sucks in. He stares at their hands like Kix's fingers might produce the words he needs. His mouth opens. Kix tenses.

"I can't."

Kix isn't prepared for this and so says nothing. Lake swallows.

"I'm..." He shakes his head, pulls his hands away. "I have to go. I'm late," he says, rising quickly.

"Lake--"

"I-I think one of those sleeping pills would work," he cuts in, avoiding Kix's gaze. "It kinda helped last time."

Kix sighs, nodding his assent. "Have the droid dispense it for you."

Lake flees. Kix feels like he failed.