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tup-ika-5385 · 1 year ago

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Summary:

Hardcase thought he knew what he was getting into, sacrificing himself for his brothers. What he didn’t expect was to survive, for Fives to pull him away from the explosions and bring him back down to Umbara. He definitely didn’t expect to be refused medical treatment and to be left fighting for his life. Kix says it’s going to be a long road to recovery, and he’s starting to wonder what “recovery” even looks like after something like this...

This fic focuses on multiple character's struggles in the aftermath of Umbara and deals with topics of disability, burn wound recovery, depression, intrusive thoughts, and others. Don't be afraid to ask for extra tags if you need them!

Chapter 11:

A shorter chapter focusing on Dogma's mental state as he adjusts to being stuck in medbay.

This chapter contains scenes with one character experiencing intrusive thoughts related to suicide and homicide (in relation to OCD), followed by an autistic shutdown. Take care of yourselves!

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TLDR the rest of the fic (for context):

When the supply ship went up in flames, Fives pulled Hardcase out of the wreckage, but not before he had serious injuries. They returned to Umbara, and Krell court-martialed the three of them, denying Hardcase access to medical treatment (but Kix found a loophole and guided Fives and Jesse through the bare necessities until Krell was discovered to be a traitor, at which point he stopped caring and did it himself).

The rest of Umbara continued the same as in canon, and Hardcase was eventually evac-ed to the Resolute, but not before catching an infection and seriously prolonging his recovery time (he's out of danger now though). Meanwhile, Dogma was detained in the brig for a while for killing Krell, and wasn't even doing the bare minimum to keep himself alive. Kix and Tup figured out a way to use medical authority to stall for time for Dogma, referencing Krell's death as a clinically-significant stress response that necessitated medical treatment, so now Dogma's being "detained" in medbay, and has been helping with Hardcase's care when the medics are busy. Recently, Hardcase has been healing more, and had his last big surgery, so he's still a little out of it. Also, my clone oc Patch joined the 501st last chapter, sharing his knowledge as a rehab specialist, and has been treating the entire legion as his vod'ikae.

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Chapter 11:

Injured or not, Hardcase's snores were loud enough to wake the dead. Dogma sighed to himself in boredom; Hardcase had been sleeping for most of the day, still hopped up on painkillers and anesthesia from his recent skin graft surgery, leaving Dogma to his own devices. Fives, Jesse, and Tup were back on Coruscant, enjoying some much-needed shore leave, and Dogma tried not to feel too put-out at being left behind on the Resolute.

Absently, he watched as a medic in 104th gray armor puttered around medbay, carrying crates and gear of all kinds to the recently repurposed auxiliary medbay. The space had barely been used outside of their latest campaign, with a handful of flimsy cots and more than a few upgrades needed; nobody would be missing the old space.

Kix had looked beyond relieved when he’d gotten confirmation that the new medic’s transfer request had been approved, and Dogma was glad that the injured troopers would be getting the help they needed, especially Hardcase. There was a small part of him that worried, though, wondering if he’d still be wanted with another pair of hands around, much more experienced than his. Some days, those little chores around medbay were all that stood between Dogma and the brink of insanity; he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he wasn’t able to contribute somehow.

Even as he sat there, the buzzing feeling at the back of his mind persisted, and he knew it would get worse if he stayed in his bunk for too long. So with a quick stretch, he made his way to where Patch was setting up the rehab room.

“Uh, sir? Do you need any help?” He gave a small knock on the doorframe, to which Patch responded with a friendly grin, waving him over.

“Sure, kid. Do you wanna start organizing the things from that crate? They should all go in the cabinet to the right.” Patch nodded to the crate in question, so Dogma got to work. He could still hear the conversation in the nearby medbay, a peaceful background noise to his organizing, and he was able to put the weird feeling aside for a little while as he got into a rhythm.

Caught up in what he was doing, Dogma didn’t notice Patch coming over to check his work until he nearly bumped into him, flinching sharply as he realized how he’d let his guard down.

“Easy, kid. Just coming over to check how it’s coming along. You’ve got quite the system going.” Patch’s tone was apologetic; he felt bad about startling the kid. He watched as Dogma took a steadying breath before muttering a quick apology, not that the kid had anything to apologize for.

As he looked at the kid, Patch noticed something in his eyes, a flash of anxiety and something a little harder to describe. He’d seen it in his own reflection once, a long time ago, so he resolved to ask about it later when Kix came back.

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“Hey Kix, a moment of your time, real quick?”

“Sure, just one second.” Kix nodded agreeably, finishing up with his notes before following Patch to a lesser-used corner of the medbay.

“I had a question. It’s about Dogma. Is he… on watch?” Patch lowered his voice at the last part, voice taking on a particular tone.

It wasn’t often they had uninjured troopers taking up residence in medbay, but usually, it meant a very specific thing: that a brother couldn’t… be safe alone. But Kix hadn’t mentioned anything when they did rounds earlier; in fact, he’d skipped the kid entirely. And Patch wanted to respect his privacy, but he also wanted to know if he had to be mindful of sharp objects or of accidentally triggering the vod’ika.

At Patch’s question, Kix blinked in surprise for a moment, biting his lip before giving a shrug. “Not exactly… but keeping an eye on him is probably a good idea. Dogma’s… he’s the one that took down Krell, at the end of our last campaign.” He paused as Patch hissed between his teeth.

Kix continued. “GAR Command’s been calling for his throat, but we managed to stall them by putting a medical hold on his case. It’s not a perfect solution, and it’ll probably get the long-necks on his tail if we ever visit Kamino, but it’s the best we could do so that he’s with his brothers instead of rotting in some cell.”

He glanced around the corner to look at the vod’ika in question, taking a nap on his bunk. “Dogma’s a bit of a stickler for the regs, so he’s taken this whole thing… pretty hard. I’ve been giving him chores to do around the medbay, to keep him busy, and it seems to be helping some, but he’s pretty cautious around everyone but his batcher, so it’s hard to know how he’s really doing.”

Patch nodded, sighing sympathetically; clones were made for action, and sitting around anywhere for too long was bound to make anyone twitchy. “Sounds like the kid’s been going through it…”

“Yeah… I’ve been pairing him and Hardcase whenever possible, which seems to help some. Hardcase is still pretty early in the recovery process, and Dogma’s got a mind for schedules and organization, so they’ve been helping each other, in a sense.” Kix huffed a brief laugh. “Dogma’s got the bedside manner of a rock, but if he stays here much longer, I might have to request that Rex assign him as a medical assistant. I’d love to see what’d happen if I set him loose on the medbay’s organization system.”

At that, Patch shared a grin. “Is that right? I’ll have to invite him to help with my rehab sessions, then. Could always use an extra hand.” Giving Kix a quick word of thanks, Patch returned to his task of settling in. He’d keep an eye on this vod’ika for now, just in case…

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After spending nearly a week unoccupied in medbay, Dogma was starting to appreciate any distraction, even in the form of annoyingly loud ARC troopers. Fives, Tup, and Jesse had stopped by medbay a little while ago, and were currently regaling him and Hardcase of the sights and sounds on Coruscant. Fives had even brought back a small noodle cup for him and a nice broth for Hardcase from a civvie joint on-planet, which they’d both quickly inhaled.

Dogma felt a little bad, knowing the lengths they’d probably gone to, constantly going back and forth from the planet’s surface to the Resolute just to keep them company. He consoled himself with the reminder that it wasn’t just him that they came to see, and Hardcase really did get less restless when he had someone to talk to, and honestly, these little visits did them all some good. Dogma had been battling another off-day before they got there, and even now he felt an uncomfortable pressure at the back of his mind, like an invisible foot was about to drop, but it was easier to ignore when he was pressed against his batchmate in a med-bed that definitely wasn’t made for two occupants, let alone three, with Fives sitting on the foot of the bed as Jesse regaled them about his latest trip to 79’s. Dogma got the sense that they were playing it up for their entertainment, but he couldn’t bring himself to call them out on it.

Dogma glanced up at an especially loud laugh from the group. Identifying Fives as the source, his eyes subconsciously scanned the ARC until his mind jolted abruptly at the sight of his pistol. The Pistol he’d used on Krell, to be precise. A thought came to his mind unbidden, intrusive and violent in nature. “It’d be so easy to grab it when he’s not looking. I’ve done it before.”

Dogma flinched visibly as the thought passed his brain. Grab it to do what, exactly? Shoot his brothers? Shoot himself?

His hands shook as he remembered the way his thoughts had flashed through his brain back on Umbara, and how Fives had to carefully wrap his hands around Dogma’s to pry the pistol from his grasp.

Like a switch had been flipped, the bad feeling at the base of his skull increased tenfold. In milliseconds, he felt like a puppet with its strings cut off, the world flashing by in grayscale as warning klaxons wailed in his head. He struggled to make sense of his own thoughts, painful tumults crashing through his skull, but on the outside he didn’t so much as move. His brothers were laughing and joking around him, enjoying each other’s company, but Dogma couldn’t even quirk his lips into a facsimile of a smile.

As he sat there in a muted haze, the conversation around him began to fade, with first Jesse then Fives leaving to grab some food in the mess hall until all that remained was Dogma, a quickly fading Hardcase (still recovering from his recent surgery), and Tup, who’d been giving him increasingly concerned looks over the past ten minutes.

“You okay Dogma? You went a little quiet halfway through.” Tup asked, placing a careful hand on Dogma’s knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze, Tup scanned his batchmate’s face, noticing his strange, blank expression.

At that moment, what little resolve Dogma had left crumbled, his lip trembling as his next inhale turned into a choked sob. He drew his knees up to his chest, piercing shame scraping at his insides. As tears started streaming down his face, he heard a small noise from Tup, but he could barely process it as he gripped his short hair tightly, looking for something, anything, to stop feeling like his brain was fragmenting into shards of glass.

Still wrapped up in his head, Dogma barely registered as Tup wrapped a warm blanket around his shoulders. When Dogma didn’t pull away immediately, Tup carefully enveloped Dogma in his arms, pulling him into a tender hug. Breath coming in small hiccups, Dogma melted, slumping against his chestplate. His tears started to dampen Tup’s blacks, but he only held him tighter, serving as Dogma’s anchor in the storm.

After what felt like an eternity, Dogma’s tears started to die down. He gave the occasional shuddering breath as he slowly came back to himself.

Presence steady as he held Dogma close, Tup patiently waited for him to gather himself. At some point, Kix had poked his head in to see if they needed anything, but Tup waved him off for now. “It’s okay, Dogma... I’m here, vod.”

He slowly became aware of Tup’s hands rubbing small circles in his back, his batchmate breathing in a slow but steady rhythm, encouraging Dogma to copy him.

Finally, Dogma pulled away, bringing one hand up to dry the tear-tracks near his eyes while the other still gripped Tup’s hand. Tup gave his hand a careful squeeze before cautiously broaching the topic. “What was that about, vod? Do ya feel like talking about it?”

“I-I don’t–” Dogma shook his head, voice raw from crying. “I don’t know–” His heart sped up, worried that Tup would demand an answer that he still didn’t fully understand.

A hand started massaging Dogma’s palm, pulling him out of his thoughts before he could start spiraling again. “Shhh… that’s alright. No talking’s fine too. Just… if you need me, I’m here.”

Dogma nodded shakily, letting out a quiet. “...thanks.”

“Anytime, Dogma. Any time.”

They continued to sit together for a while, and eventually Kix came over to check on Dogma and make sure he hydrated. That night, Dogma’s med-bed had an extra occupant, and Kix put another blanket over the sleeping duo, sharing a fond smile with Hardcase when they slept in long past first meal.

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Author Notes:

If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading, aaaaahh!!!

On a more serious note, there’s something in this chapter that’s very important to clarify: Dogma, at least how I’ve characterized him, is not currently suicidal or homicidal. He has no intentions or plans to kill himself or others (besides Krell), but after seeing Fives’ pistol, he experiences extremely distressing intrusive thoughts about doing so. As someone with thought-action fusion (a component of OCD), Dogma is convinced that having these thoughts means that he wants to do these things and will do these things, making the thoughts just as bad as if he were to actually try and kill his brothers or himself, at least in his own mind. (Yes, this is a thing).

Of course, thinking about something is extremely different than actually doing it, but Dogma struggles with this distinction, which is part of why he had such a hard time with recognizing Krell’s true intentions, because thinking treasonous thoughts (or voicing disagreements) was practically as good as betraying the Republic and going against his entire reason for being. And because I’m characterizing him as both autistic and having OCD, this intrusive thought breakdown quickly leads to a shutdown/meltdown.

This scene was really hard to write mainly because of this distinction, but I hope I pulled it off okay. Dogma’s experiences are in no way meant to invalidate those of anyone with these conditions, but it’s important to understand that differences exist between intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, and suicide itself, because otherwise that can be an extremely stressful and overwhelming experience like it was for Dogma himself.

Hope this clarified things! If you had any comments/questions about anything in this chapter, I’d absolutely love to hear about it. Take care of yourselves! (Also, comments and reblogs feed the dopamine-hoarding dragon that lives inside my brain. Okay thanks, bye!)

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