#clone medic kix imagine

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ohhhh Kix. Just let someone take care of you!

🎊 Congratulations on the milestone!! 🎊

Your writing sparks so much joy, you deserve every single follower (and the many more yet to come!) 😄

I'd like to drop a request for Kix (beloved..), from the hurt/comfort prompts:

"How long did you think you could hide that?" + "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

And if I may be so bold, reader is the one chastising him? 👀

Thank you so so much for your love and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️ I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write this! I realize it's been in my inbox for several months now but here it is! I hope you enjoy!

ALSO... I loved this prompt so much and had a similar idea for an OC of mine, so there will be a Kix x OC version of this as well!

Prompt #20: "How long did you think you could hide that?"

Prompt #26: "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Beta-read by the amazing @staycalmandhugaclone

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Busy, Busy

Kix is stubborn. He's ways taken care of everybody else. Maybe it's time you took care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and injury.

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The med bay on the Resolute was quiet for once - not that Kix would ever say that aloud. He didn't want to jinx anything. Every healthcare worker knew that once that Q-word was uttered, all hell would be soon to break loose - a silly superstition, but one that had been proven true time and time again. Kix, however, did not have time to prove or disprove anything like that. He was just glad that none of his co-workers were here to tell him off for being so careless. Especially you.

He must've been allergic to something down on the planet they'd just been on. It was stupid, really - clones weren't supposed to get sick or have allergies.

I'm supposed to be better than this. Kix thought miserably. Yet here he was - snivelling like a child, sinuses so clogged that it felt like his head was in a bubble, and he was so damn tired.

Kriff... if it wasn't for this karking brain fog, maybe he wouldn't have slipped off the loading dock like that - landing on his side among boxes of medical supplies that he just now finished cleaning up.

The med-droid on duty stood quietly in the corner, ready to be turned on should an emergency arise but Kix quickly passed it by, opting to take care of himself in secret.

He groaned quietly, holding his side as he reached for the bacta at the back of the cold-storage unit. He grimaced, gingerly palpating his side with practiced fingers. Nothing felt broken, that was good. Just bruised. Nothing he could really do for bruised ribs. Maybe that was for the best. Kix still had a lot of work to do - reports to file, miles of inventory to catalog, and two med-droids to repair. Just some bacta for the pain and stiffness and maybe a stim for good measure - that would keep him afloat long enough to get all this shit together. Kix was short staffed, very short staffed. You had just finished up a triple, going on quadruple shift when he'd ordered you to get some rest.

"Makes no sense having a sleep deprived medic on the field, not to mention how dangerous that is," he'd scolded, now internally wincing at his own hypocritical actions just hours later.

But you're a clone. You can take a lot more than any nat-born. He nodded to himself, scrambling to find any justification for his actions.

"Alright," he grumbled, "quit stalling, Kix. You've got work to do. Then you can sleep."

He settled down in the small office behind the medbay, bacta on his ribs, a stim in his system, and a large cup of caf in hand - not the best combination, but it would work for the time being.

***

It seemed like only minutes had passed when the door slid open with a hiss. Kriff. He knew it was you despite the boxes of medical supplies that blocked his view and the stacks of datapads littering his desk. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, and stood up. He gripped the edge of the desk as a wave of vertigo nearly brought him to his knees.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he grunted out, surprising himself with the way the rough edges of his voice seemed to grate against the dryness of his throat. "I lost track of time."

He heard you shift and lean against the doorway. "That's alright. I figured that's what happened." The tone of your voice did not match the carefree understanding conveyed by your words.

You knew something was wrong.

Kix winced quietly as he eased himself back into his chair. Staying seated and unmoving was the best way for his side to heal up on its own. It was better for you not to see him. Until he could finish these reports, it was better he keep to himself.

"You wanna join me for breakfast?"

Breakfast!? It couldn't be time for breakfast yet. Maybe you'd just woken up early. Very early.

"Kix?" Your voice startled him from his thought-drifting fatigue.

"Huh?"

"I asked you if you wanted to join me for breakfast."

This time the worry in your voice was apparent and Kix felt his heart sink. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

"I'm really busy. Another time maybe."

"Kix...

"Your shift doesn't start for another three hours. You shouldn't be here." He snapped.

"Uhh...actually it starts in half an hour," you responded slowly. "Yours on the other hand, was supposed to be over like six hours ago. What are you still doing here?" The question was laced with the same sharpness he'd just directed towards you.

"Quinn called out. Their kid is sick." He spoke of the civilian contractor they'd been assigned.

The black and gold zabrak made a great medtech but, between various other assignments and six children, their appearances in his medbay were few and far between.

"So... you're going on four shifts in a row now?"

Kix grunted. He wished you would stop asking him questions. Talking made his throat feel as though he'd swallowed the general's lighsaber. "I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept!?"

He shrugged absentmindedly, concentrating on the datapad in front of him when it was suddenly snatched from his hand.

"Hey!" His head snapped up, glaring at his fellow medic who met it with an equally annoyed fire in her eyes.

"Give it back!" Kix made a grab for it but was suddenly and painfully reminded of his aching ribs. He collapsed back down into his chair with a defeated hiss of pain at the way the muscles balked at the tension. The movement took his breath away for a moment.

"Kix!" Your surprised cry pounded through his head as you dropped to your knees beside him, eyes widening as you thoroughly surveyed him for the first time since stepping into the room.

"Oh Kix..." you shook your head, reaching for a handheld scanner. He watched with heavy, lidded eyes as you swept the scanner over him slowly and methodically.

You set down the scanner with a sigh, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kix, what happened!? Your shift was supposed to end at 2300 hours! You need to go to bed!"

Kix rolled his eyes. Only a few more things to do and then he'd gladly follow your direction.

"Relax, I'll just be a few more minutes! It's only -" he paused, looking at the chrono around his wrist. It read 0725. "Oh."

"Yeah."

He winced at your deadpanned tone. "Sorry. I guess I lost track of time."

"I'll say." You placed the datapad back onto the desk but didn't remove your hand. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What the hell happened to you!? You look awful, you sound like your entire head is clogged, and you've got two cracked ribs!"

Oh. Cracked. Not bruised.

He opened his mouth to respond just as one of the datapads let out a beep. You frowned and put a hand up, cutting off yet another desperately fabricated excuse. "And don't tell me Quinn called out. You just got a message from the Admiral asking you why you canceled Quinn's shift."

He sighed defeatedly, suppressing a wince at the twinge of pain in his side. He didn't meet your eyes. "I fell."

"You...fell!?" you questioned, sounding a bit incredulous. "When? How?!" He'd seemed fine when he'd ordered you to take off.

"'Bout an hour after you left," he admitted. "Must've been allergic to something in the dust planetside. I was unloading some supplies, got dizzy, and fell off the loading dock."

"And how long did you think you could hide that?" Your voice had once again taken on that scolding tone which for some reason made him feel both guilty and proud. You'd been a timid shiny when he first met you. Now here you were, taking charge of the situation with an air of authority and sass he likened to one of his generals. He shrugged.

"As long as it took to finish all of this." He motioned to the cluttered desk, immediately regretting the movement causing his ribs to tense painfully again.

Your eyes were piercing - full of concern and disbelief. "Why are you acting like everything is fine!?" you snapped, suddenly angry at his seemingly unphased attitude.

He didn't answer.

You shook your head. “Why didn’t you call me, Kix? If I’d known you weren’t feeling well, I could’ve at least helped you with the work!”

Kix didn't blame you. He'd probably have reacted the same way if he were in your shoes. He looked away.

"I just... I didn't want you to see me like this." he muttered softly. He sounded hoarse and miserable.

You sighed. "Let me get this right....You didn't want me - a medic - to see you sick and injured? So you - also a medic, who should know better, might I add - decided to hide it from everyone so that you could get your work done!? You sent away our best medtech so that you wouldn't be bothered by them realizing something was wrong!?"

Kix frowned. It did sound bad when you put it all out like that.

"Guess that sounds about right."

You stared at him. "That was really dumb, Kix."

"Yeah."

You sighed. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"

Kix thought back. When was the last time he'd eaten? His stomach revolted with just the thought. There was no way he'd be able to eat anything right now.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, not meeting your eyes.

You sighed. "Okay, come on. I'm gonna go get you something to eat."

He shook his head, resting it in the palms of his hands, rubbing his eyes. You were right about one thing, he was exhausted. But duty came first.

"I can't. I have so much to do." He nodded to the screen of his datapad. It was full of messages, requests, reports, and a number of reminders and meeting invitations flashed across the screen.

You laid your hand on his shoulder.

"Just humor me, please. Eat something, take a nap - "

Kix shoved your hand from his shoulder, then instantly regretted the action. Maker, if his ribs weren't killing him, he could just scream. All he wanted to do was sleep. But he had work to do. Why couldn't you understand that? He knew he was irritable but his rude reaction towards you - his friend - flooded him with even more guilt.

"I can't! I just can't! Admiral Yularen needs these reports in by tonight and I'm only halfway through them because I got interrupted by General Skywalker needing additional information for the next mission, so I spent two hours tracking that down, come to find out it was all for nothing because the kriffing Jedi council decided to send them elsewhere."

He took a gasping breath. Fire burned through his side, igniting a feral panic that gripped his chest with an icy grasp. His ribs were screaming. His head felt as though he’d been forced beneath the rabid jaws of Kaminoan ocean waves - descending ever downwards, pressure rising in painful crescendos. His hands were shaking and he couldn't make them stop.

"Hey! Kix, hey!" Gentle pressure pulled him from his spiral with a grounding hand rubbing circles on his back. Concern clouded your face as you knelt beside him.

"Breathe, Kix. I need you to breathe."

"Can't," he panted.

"I know," you responded evenly, holding an oxygen mask to his nose and mouth. "Just do the best you can."

"No!" He swatted the mask from your hand. He really had to get this done. Just a little while longer, then he'd rest - then he'd let you do whatever you needed to do.

You pursed your lips looking at the delirious medic in front of you.

"You know, I really didn't want to have to do this but I - "

Kix rolled his eyes, unconsciously gripping the oxygen to his face as he took another short, gasping breath. He knew what you'd say next. It was the same thing he'd say to Captain Rex, or even General Skywalker when they fought him on coming to the medbay.

"Are you really gonna pull the medic rank card on me?" He interrupted.

"Do I have to?" You looked pointedly at him. You were annoyed, yes, but you were also concerned. He knew you'd seen dying patients with more life in their eyes than he currently did.

He looked down at the long list of tasks he had yet to do and sighed in defeat. "No. I guess not."

"Good."

He couldn't identify the look on your face as he allowed you to lead him to a bed. Your hand lingered on his arm for a moment too long as you delivered a sedative into his veins. But for some reason he didn't mind.

"Don't worry, Kix." you said softly as you watched his eyes flutter shut. "You're safe. I'll take it from here."

Kix allowed himself to succumb to the peaceful allure of sleep even as your words echoed through his brain. "Let me take care of you, you stupid, beautiful, stubborn man."

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[ct-tupperware]

Kix + caring immensely about his brothers

[leenathegreengirl]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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(Thank you to @legacygirlingreen for inspiring this design/idea!)

[literallyjustanerd]

...at least they're having fun? find out what they're jamming to bonuses:

[ireadwithmyears]

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.

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Kix: “It sounds miserable to be a natborn actually.”

[amessywritersmind]

501st hound chase

Request: Ok I had this idea pop in my head and laughed hard at this. BUT what if reader was the new dog trainer for the 501st dogs the really wired scaly lizard this are I can't remember what they are. The one dog she training for the 501st got into one of the jedis room like Anakin or Obi-Wan's and swallowed a jedi holocron and now they have like a big looney Toons chase after the dog running literally everywhere on a ship basically dodging everything and everyone both jedi clone trooper and reader until they finally just tuker out and find a place to sleep while everyone is tearing the place up looking for them.

"Heyyyyy! There's our favorite Hound Wrangler! How's it going? Who's this little guy you got with you?" I hear a voice call from the other end of the hall.

I look up to see Fives, Kix and Jesse heading straight my way.

"Fives! Jesse! Kix! I'm good! I'm just taking Kesi here for a walk around the ship before i'm off for the day. How are you?" I ask the group of clones, petting the Massiff affectionately.

Kesi, apparently really digging the love, rolls over showing off his belly for some more rubs. Of course, I comply, because who could deny that cute little face? Fives was thinking the same thing I was at that moment, bending down and joining in on the petting.

"We're doing ok, the mission is finally over, who can really complain." Kix says tiredly.

"You're not wrong there, finding this lost Holocron seems to have taken a toll on everyone, even Master Kenobi" Fives jokes with equal exhaustion.

"Apparently not everyone!" Jesse laughs as Kesi jumps up from his position, tail wagging in earnest.

"This guy has more energy than a band of starving Gundarks all the time, no matter what, hence the walk before bedtime" I explain with a smile, watching as Kesi begins to fidget more and more.

The massiff jumps up excitedly, tail wagging, as if to prove my point. Fives laughs.

"I can see that! Look at him, c'mere little guy..." Fives begins, causing Kesi to jump up more in excitement, someone finally wanted to play!

Before I could warn Fives against riling him up, Kesi leaped so hard he tugged his lead out of my hand and took off running down the hall.

"Oh no... Kes!" I shout, immediately chasing after him down the hall. I rounded the corner of the ship quickly, hoping he'd still be within the area, but alas I was not so fortunate. The hall was empty, Kesi was nowhere in sight.

I hurried back to the stunned (and partially guilty) group of clones in desperation.

"Please, you guys have to help me find him! Who knows what kind of trouble he'll get into..."I worry, pinching the bridge of my nose and brainstorming possible places the little beast might wander off to.

"Okay, I've got a plan. Everyone, switch to comm channel 3, we're gonna spread out around the ship. Jesse; you head to the hanger bay and the kitchens. Kix; you check MedBay and any supply storage areas with good smelling things in them. I'll check the clone barracks and the 'fresher room" Fives starts, pointing to each clone and assigning their duty.

"And you-" he states, turning towards me "can check the Kennels and the Generals quarters. If anyone finds any signs of Kesi, let the rest of us know with your comms. Ready boys? Let's go find that Massiff." Fives encourages. The boys give firm nods and we all head in our own direction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn't take long to find him- well, where he had been and where he was going at least. Not long at all. Infact, Kesi had left a trail to follow. The kennels were a fail, as I'd imagined they'd be, and so I began to walk towards the Generals Quarters, when I noticed a strange trail of what looked like, paper?

I followed the trail around the corner, down the hall, and right to Master Kenobi's door. This leads me to where I am now, still standing in front of Master Kenobi's door, along with Fives, Kix, Jesse, and now Anakin and the man himself, Obi Wan.

"I am so so so so sorry Master Kenobi! The little drat just got too excited and I couldn't hold on to his leash and-" I started blathering nervously as I stared at the remnants of what was once the box containing the infamous missing Jedi Holocron. When I say remnants, I really mean little tiny scraps of cardboard.

Obi-wan silenced me with a raise of his hand and a sigh, followed by Anakin's quiet laughter, at which Obi-wan was not amused. "Let's just spread out and find the little guy. He can't have gotten far, after all we are on a ship in the middle of space." he states, ever calm and ready with a plan.

"You'd be surprised General, sir. We've been searching for quite a while already now, and we've only managed to find his trail of destruction." Fives states, a giggle present in his tone.

"Well, now there are more of us! Anakin, have Rex notify the rest of the 501st and have every single person searching. I'll comm Cody and tell him to do the same. As soon as he is found, signal on the comms." Obi-wan states determinedly with a small clap as everyone breaks off in small search groups.

"Don't worry, we'll find him. And it's not like he can destroy the holocron. It'll all be alright, Obi-wan will forget it ever happened as soon as it's over!" Anakin says comfortingly, placing a hand on my shoulder. As much as that should have eased my worries, the statement left me with a strange feeling of dread.

I couldn't help thinking never say never as we parted ways to begin our own searches.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile...

Kesi had ran around for a good long while after swallowing that holocron, not quite satisfied with his cold meal. He searched all over the ship for something better, stealing a few bantha patties from the kitchens before deciding he was full and in desperate need for a nap.

If only he could find a nice, warm, dark place...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours. Two kriffing hours we've spent searching the whole kriffing ship for Kesi and still, there was no sight of him. Other than the few missing bantha patties, that is. But that was hours ago. Now, I found myself with Anakin and Rex in the 501st barracks once again, for what feels like the 501st time.

"Kesi, Kes. Come here boy!" I called tiredly. I just wanted to find him and be done with all thi- what was that? Did i just see movement...under that bunk?

"Oh Kessiiiii" I called playfully, watching the end of a tail respond in kind.

I crept over to the bunk, bending down and gently lifting up the side of the blanket. Underneath lied the man, or should i say thief, of the hour. Upon recognizing me, Kesi comes scurrying out from under the bunk, licking me straight in the face.

"There you are boy!" I exclaimed, happy that he was at last safe and sound.

"Well, there's the hound, but where's the holocron?" Anakin asks, lifting the blanket only to see no holocron where Kesi once was.

"Hmm..." He said, walking over and closing his eyes briefly.

The look on his face when his eyes opened once again told me all I needed to know. I groaned, the happy moment short lived.

"Oh, Kesi." I couldn't believe him. He swallowed it. He actually swallowed a very important jedi holocron. Whole! Unbelievable.

"Well, General, sir. I believe there is only one thing we can do now." Rex speaks up, shocked at the whole ordeal himself.

"Obi-wan is gonna kill me..." I groaned again.

"It's kind of funny, I'm usually the one saying that." Anakin snickers as he raises his comm to tell the aforementioned master the news.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few more excruciating hours passed and everyone had now gathered in the waiting room of the medbay, eager to hear the news.

Finally, Kix comes out of the medbay, arms behind his back.

"Well..." he stalls, clearly enjoying the comical aspect of the situation and leaving everyone hanging.

"Kesi has finally passed the cube! Here it is, General Kenobi, all cleaned up, and disinfected thrice!" Kix beams as he reveals the holorcron from behind his back.

Anakin, Fives and myself cheer, while Obi-wan, Rex and Cody only sigh, in relief or quiet frustration i wasn't sure. The ordeal was finally over. Obi-wan stands, grabbing the holocron reluctantly and coming over to me.

"I suggest you keep a better eye on your little friend, we don't want another incident like this happening again. I'm exhausted." Obi-wan says gently, clearly tuckered by the events of the day.

"Yes, General, sir. I'm sorry again, and it most definitely will not happen again." He nods, exiting the waiting room.

"Ahh, don't worry too hard, everyone kind of enjoyed the fun of it. After all, it's not everyday my boys worst enemy is a 50 pound ball o excitement and love." Anakin says, coming in once again to calm my nerves.

"Have a good night." he says before heading out, following everyone else.

I decided to stop by and see the little rascal once more before bed. As i walked into the medbay over to his little makeshift cot, I noticed he was already passed out. I guess today tired us all out.

"Goodnight little trouble maker, I'll see you tomorrow. And no more holocrons!" I scolded quietly, gently patting his head, before heading to my own bunk to get some much needed rest.

[trylynarie]

Allergies

Hardcase: *nomming on some love hearts*

Fives: who gave you sweets?

Hardcase: found them. Ya want some?

Fives: na sorry. I’m allergic to them.

Jesse: me to actually

Hardcase: that makes sense to be fair, considering we are all the same person all the same DNA, *puts another one in his mouth*

Kix: ಠ_ಠ THEN WHY THE FUCK-

[morganas-pendragons]

There Is Quiet | Kix and Starlight

UPDATE: This has been sitting in my drafts for over a year. I want to finish it.

This is before Starlight has their daughter (in the earliest weeks of pregnancy, post Ner Adika) after Kix has their wedding rings (spoilers.. they got married!) If you don't particularly enjoy reading things with a pregnancy theme in them, I recommend you skip this!

If this gets enough attention and the other parts are wanted, I'll do Rex and Wolffe to close this nicely. (Especially since we saw Wolffe in s3 of TBB!)

@snippy-tano / @social-mockingbird

***

He's different. You vividly remember the night Kix had come rushing across the street from 79's into your little hair salon, panic evident in those bright eyes as he hurriedly explained what he'd just encountered in the refresher with his brother, Fives.

Kix is never quite the same after that night. He knows too much. He always wears this expression when he's overburdened. It's almost like Kix has resorted to carrying the weight of his cross, unwilling to let anyone else bear it with him, for it is his to carry alone.

In this case, it is.

He leaves in a rush, all frantic and murmuring about how he needs to find Anakin Skywalker, leaving you with nothing but a kiss to the swell of your stomach and a promise to return before deployment.

You watch him go. Kix has always been good at coming home, so you have no worries about whether or not he'll return.

You should have.

Fives dies. Fives dies, and the world keeps turning, because there is no room for the galaxy to mourn the clones when their soul purpose is to be a means to an end. Why would you mourn a weapon when that weapon has outlived its purpose?

Fives dies, but his vode mourn him, and you're left with the aftermath when you catch your husband as he falls to his knees in surrender to his grief in the weeks that follow. He refuses to tell you what it is he knows - and maybe it's better to spare you, to keep you from all that pain and misery of the war - and instead uses the time to lose himself in you.

He always does. Your skin is stained with Kix's tears whether you like it or not. Your hips are branded by the bruises left behind from his fingerprints, and if you could let him consume you whole, you would.

Anything to give him the reprieve your husband is so clearly looking for.

"Kix," You breathe, hair fanned against the pillows as you allow yourself to be trapped in the cage of his body. Your fingertips ghost across the curve of his jaw as you peer up at him in the dimming sunlight of Coruscant's dusk. The impending darkness looms over the skyline. "Where are you?"

And you'll give him credit, Kix tries so hard to be in the present with you.

"Right here, Starlight." He murmurs, nuzzling the crook of your neck before settling himself at your side and resting his palm against your stomach. You're just over five months. It won't be long before you have to bring your little girl into the world, and you're desperately praying nearly every night that the war will be over by then so her father can be there to raise her, to love her. "Always right here."

You swallow the knot in your throat and nod. He says he's right there, but he's not. He's far away. Always far away.

Helpless to fight it, you hold him as he drifts off and you succumb to the tears blurring your eyes.

Your bed, stained with your tears and his tears alike, is a memorial to something you will never get to have again.

---

You see him one last time before Anaxes. Your husband returns to you in the golden hours of Coruscant's day. He's more somber then usual, reserved and quiet as he enters the apartment.

You know what it is. He's found the answer to whatever the burning question is that's haunted him since Fives died in that warehouse.

He's lost to you. He's lost to you, and the thing is.. You've never really had him.

"Kix."

"Not now, my light." You frown as Kix turns to peer at you over his shoulder from where he stands by the window. It may be the only instance in which you've seen those eyes so dark. "Please, not now."

You open your mouth to reply when your daughter gives a hard kick to your navel. Kix turns sharply at the sound of your sudden gasp, shaking fingertips spreading across your stomach as you press your palm deeper.

It always catches you off guard that she's so active.

"Kix," You hold your hand out. "Come here."

Something flickers back to life in his eyes as Kix approaches you with his hand outstretched. He slowly settles it onto your stomach, gasping as your daughter gives another hard kick in response.

"Oh," Kix whispers. Your grin widens as tears shine in your eyes. There he is. You've been wondering where he's been hiding for all these months, and you think your daughter may be just a little too intuitive. She's able to feel her father's despair even from the womb. That alone should speak volumes about Kix's spiral into darkness. "There's our girl."

He bends down low to whisper something to your daughter that you don't quite hear, but you bite your lip to staunch the flow of tears that threaten to fall again.

The moment is shattered by the beep of Kix's comm. It's Rex, as expected, and he's being called to Torrent's barracks for a briefing that will lead into their deployment to the next campaign.

Your heart sinks. You can't hide the disappointment in your face as Kix rises to his feet and cradles your face to bring his forehead to your own. It feels too final. Like it's the last time you'll ever do it.

This once, just this once, you wish you were a soldier trained to fight on the battlefield so you could be with him more. You would sacrifice all that's left of yourself to be able to be with Kix more. To help him, to spare him the pain, to be able to walk with him in the midst of his pain.

But then Kix may have never met you. Had you been bred into a soldier to be the hands of The Republic, you may not be where you are right now.

And you like where you are now.

"I love you, Kix'ika," You murmur against the seam of his lips. "Come home to us."

"I love you too." He nods. You can tell he's trying to convince himself that he will, inevitably, walk back through that door. You both know it's ending. "And I will."

It ends far too soon.

---

The last time anyone sees Kix is in the aftermath of Anaxes. One moment, he's there treating Echo's wounds and helping him recover from the effects of being a prisoner of war.

Torrent's departure several weeks later is what confirms Jesse's worst fear: His triplet is gone. He is the last one standing.

And now he has to return home to break the news to his brother's wife.

---

You give birth without Kix there. Your daughter's uncles are not able to be there to hold your hand, and the only comforts you have are their girlfriends. Dove and Phantom sit on either side of you and hold your hands while you weep.

Less then a week later, almost all the clones are dead or gone or traitors and you are unable to contact your friends. Your family.

All the girls are gone too.

It's just you. You and your little girl who looks exactly like you.

At the end of everything and everyone you have come to love since that boy - that beautiful, bright eyed boy - ran into your salon crumbles in an instant.

And you are left to pick up what remains, because you have to.

Kix would want you to do it for your daughter.

---

This is how it feels to be Kix, CT-6116, Chief Medical Officer of the 501st Legion. You are encased in a cold that settles deep into your bones and makes itself at home there. There is no escape. There is no hope.

You are cold, and you are alone, and you are helpless to stop the one thing that Fives had begged for your help to prevent. You dream about the Jedi. About the clones killing the Jedi, and about the aftermath. You dream about a world of fire and blood where everything burns and everyone must burn with it.

The world you wake up to is nothing like that.

When you wake, everyone and everything you have ever known is as it once was: From dust it came, and to dust it did return. The people who pull you from the wreckage of the ship are pirates who then transport you across the galaxy to sell you to a buyer: A buyer who looks a little too much like someone you'd once known. She's old. Most likely in her forties to fifties.

Your heart aches just looking at her. She's bright. Brighter then any sun, but tougher then any steel. You can tell she was raised during the rise of the Empire. She has to be tough to survive.

But that gentleness she hides beneath that steely aspect is what catches you.

When the pirates finally allow you to depart the ramp of their ship and fly away into the great unknown, the girl in front of you speaks up.

"You look exactly like you did in all your pictures," She whispers, removing her outer jacket to pull out a yellowed photo. It's you. You and Starlight, hidden in the back booth of Seventy Nines during your first date, with her head tipped back as she laughed at a joke you do not remember.

Your eyes slowly shift back to the woman. There are tears in her eyes, and you finally recognize why she looks so familiar.

"Hi Dad."

[enigmatist17]

IT IS I, THE CUDDLE PILE ANON. OK OK I KNOW I SAID THAT WOLFFE WAS MY LAST REQUEST BUTTTTTTT I HAD 2 IDEAS AT LIKE 3 IN THE MORNING sooooo basically one about the 501st (+Ashoka) and how they’d comfort Rex when he’s down. And another one were the 501st (+Rex maybe anakin) comfort Ashoka when she’s down. THEY’RE SUCH GOOD BIG BROTHERS 😭 in return for these 2 ideas, I shall gift you with my love and weird quotes my friends have said: “all I wanted was a 10 piece McNugg, I got spiritual enlightenment” “I know I’m not the sharpest kid in the shed…wait” preferably separate fics pls (when it’s convenient for u, YOUR HEALTH COMES FIRST GO DRINK WATER YOU FABULOUS AUTHOR) hey that kinda rhymed ok I’m done 🙃

So sorry I'm late on the first prompt, but finally here we are!

----------

"Uh oh, someone messed up."

When Fives is the one to freeze in the middle of a conversation, that gains the attention of the scattered 501st troopers nearby. Said newly minted ARC had been in the middle of a rousing story when he noticed that one of the medics decided to join the rest of the "plebs" willingly.

And not only a medic, Kix was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't me!" Kix raised an eyebrow as Fives lifted his hands, and gives an amused snort.

"For once it's not your fault. Any of you see Rex?"

"Avoiding you again?" Echo asked, looking up from the manuals he'd been idly reading. "Told him you were going to start getting angry."

"I'm past that, I told him I need to monitor his BSV recovery, and I can't do that if he insists on skirting the medbay. Now, since you all clearly don't have anything to do, I'm pulling rank and ordering you to hunt down Rex and bring him to me."

"But we just got our game going!" Hardcase cried in dismay, he and Dogma crouched over a board game they'd been gifted some time ago.

"Aw poor guy." Kix deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Tell you what, the man who delivers Rex gets some of the treats Plo gave me."

"Seriously?" Hardcase finds the game suddenly not as important, even Dogma side-eyeing the medic along with the very quiet troopers around him.

Kix shook his head.

"The man who brings me Rex gets to have their own mini-stash."

The medic isn't sure he's seen any room empty so fast, shaking his head with a rare chuckle as he heads back to his beloved medbay. It's not the best look to send an entire battalion after their commanding officer, but at this point Kix was tired of the excuses and his concern for Rex's health was overriding his initial trepidation. The BSV and the lives it took in the bunker had sent a ripple of fear through quite a few men, not even able to bury their brothers who had to be burned to ensure no trace of the virus could remain. They were trained to fight against all sorts of enemies, but one that was naked to the eye and deadlier than any clanker was...uncomfortable to think about, and most medics didn't comment on an uptick of their fellow batchers reading up on viruses and how best to combat them. Kix didn't have too long before he received a message, gathering up his mobile kit before heading out and towards where Rex had been found.

"He's buried in his reports." Jesse had found Rex hiding in a communications room, and Kix just nods. "Want me to keep guard?"

"No, I have a task for you."

When the door to his current hideout opens, Rex wants to curse.

"So, are we done hiding?" There's a clunk on the console behind Rex as the medic's kit is set down, and the blonde just remains silent as he fills out another report. "I need you to look at me."

"I'm busy." The excuse falls flat, and Kix scoffs.

"Who isn't. Do I need to pull rank again, or will you let me do the bare minimum exam?"

"......."

Rex gives in after twenty minutes of silence, the captain grumbling under his breath as Kix descends on him. Despite not being pleased with Rex and his evasiveness, he takes care to keep most of Rex's attention him himself rather than his medical tools. Rex hadn't said it out loud, which to be fair he couldn't as to remain the face his men looked up to and trusted, but being subjected to more than a few nasty tests after being liberated from the BSV had not helped him recover from the fact he could have died without being able to save anyone, let alone himself. Medbay's hadn't been much to him before, but now Rex started going out of his way to catch Kix and the other medics outside of the room, reassuring them as always yet avoiding simple things like his recovery assessment.

"You have been recovering nicely." There's a very small slump of Rex's shoulders, but the medic says nothing as he packs up his kit. "I'll test the blood I took, but you're lucky."

"Like I've been saying, I feel fine." Kix raised an eyebrow, pausing to shoot the surprised commander a glare.

"Oh you are nowhere near fine, but I did promise to try and be nice right now. I order you to report to the barracks, you've been holing up away from everyone, and it shows."

"I have reports to fill out..." Rex winces at how weak his protest is, but doesn't get much of a chance to say more when the door opens once more to reveal Ahsoka. "Really?"

"Jesse says you can't ignore me asking you things." The togruta smiled, and Kix can see the tension visibly leaving Rex as the togruta crosses the small room with a smile.

"Jesse is a traitor." Rex grumbled, but Kix doesn't need to Force to see there was no malice in his words.

"Maybe, but he's right. You haven't seen come to our sabbac nights anymore, and not even Skyguy has seen you outside of shift. So, I'm asking you to come join us scrubs for the night!"

"I'm sorry scrubs?" Rex's eyebrows shot up as Kix failed to hide his snort of amusement, a small grin cracking his impassive face for the first time in ages. "Let me guess, Fives taught you that?"

"Mhm! Although judging by the two of you, it doesn't mean regular troops does it?" Ahsoka grumbled as Kix just barked out a laugh, Rex trembling in the effort to hold his own in. "I'm so getting back at him."

"As long as it doesn't involve personal injury, I'll help." Kix shook his head in amusement, watching Rex place his hand on Ahsoka's shoulder.

"I have a few ideas myself." He tries not to focus on the way the Jetti preens when he gets to his feet, shifting close to him as the trio head out and towards the barracks, listening to some of Rex's surprisingly good prank ideas to use later on.

No one kicks up a fuss when Rex finally joins them for the impromptu movie night Echo and Dogma had set up, just joking with him and laughing about the movie that was more a sound board than actually paid attention to. They all knew it was just background amusement, just happy to see their commander letting loose for the first time since the BSV and enjoying his men's company, leaving the bunker deep in his mind for another night.

[aspiringnexu]

I feel like Kix and Bones would be very good friends.

They're both sick to death of looking after the morons they love.

"Got any weird and/or stressful stories?"

"How long d'you got?"

"Shift just ended so until we finish that... what did you call it again?"

"Whiskey, got it off Scotty."

"Right, so until we finish that or we fall asleep."

"Boy, we're gonna need longer than a night to get through all of my stories."

"Good, and don't call me boy. I may only be twelve but I'm no kid."

"I- wait, what?"

[stellarbit]

(Is this where requests are submitted? Hope so!)

1000 followers! I can’t even fathom that. Well done!

Was hoping for a SFW using “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” Female in the periphery of 501st (mech/nurse/comms) who is on the quieter side. Hanging out with the usual mouthy suspects (playing sabacc or watching a game) as the boys throw insults and tease each other. She throws in the occasional pointed zinger and it gets their attention. Then it’s on! Playful banter ensues. An intellectual “geeky girl takes off her glasses and is finally noticed” feel. Thank you for considering my request.

Thank youuuuuu for the request. This was super fun but WARNING I don't actually understand sabacc so beware I winged it a lil.

All Bets Are Off

Word Count: 2.2k Pairing: platonic 501st x fem!reader Warnings: insinuation of gambling and bad portrayal of sabacc Summary: Jesse, Kix, Dogma, Tup, and Fives decide to play sabacc after finding you tinkering away alone. Dogma can't win, probably doesn't know how to, and you decide to lend a hand.

General Skywalker left much of his plans for the upcoming mission to the imagination of the 501st. All preparations that could be made with the few details given were already put into motion - leaving you and your squad with ample time to kill on the Resolute.

The General personally recruited you after your help decrypting Separatist communications during a mission on your home planet. You’d been hesitant at first, having no combat experience and the desire for a quiet life, but accepted regardless.

The men of the 501st battalion did their best to put you at ease and yet, even after a few weeks with them, you still sat in an adjustment period. Not that that stopped them from loitering around you in their downtime. You were their first taste of female attention that wasn’t Jedi, though, they’d never admit it. In return you were boundlessly entertained by the clones, though, you rarely showed it.

Having come upon you tinkering with a broadband transceiver, Jesse, Kix, Fives, Tup, and Dogma took up a game of sabacc to ‘keep you company’, as they put it. All the while, you snuck glances from the sidelines. Three rounds in and Jesse was on top with Dogma sourly coming in last. 

“Admit it, Dogma, you don’t even know how to play.” Jesse laughed, triumphantly splaying out his cards on the table.

A chorus of groans rounded the group, accentuated by Dogma slamming a hand on the table. Quickly on his feet, Dogma jabbed an accusatory finger across the table. “I know how to play. You’re just getting lucky.” He curled his lip and harshly gestured to Tup who sat beside him. “I bet he isn’t even shuffling correctly!”

One corner of your lips tipped into a smirk. Dogma may have been wrong about Tup’s shuffling, but, at least for where you sat, it did seem luck fueled Jesse’s winning streak.

Tup swept his hands around the table, gathering the cards for another round. Ever the patient man, Tup only shook his head at his brother’s accusation. Kix, on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to rile his tightly wound brother. 

Smirking, the medic leaned over the table, tauntingly saying, “If you’re so sure, maybe you should deal next.” Tup smiled, nodded, and offered the deck to Dogma. His suggestion only further annoyed Dogma, who pointedly shoved Tup’s hand away. 

As Tup started divvying out the cards, Kix continued, “And you’ll need a bigger tattoo to hide those tells, mate.” You paused your work solely to catch the predictable, red tint Dogma’s face took on.

“You’re one to talk,” Fives retorted with a chuckle, glancing at his first card and then smirking mischievously at Kix. “You couldn’t bluff your way out of a paper bag.”

“How do you-”

Jesse cut Kix short, “You pick up an extra card every time you think you’ve got a good hand.” The entire table murmured in humored agreement before settling into determined silence once the cards were dealt. 

It was funny, you thought, how they pestered one another. They really were brothers at the core of it all. 

Your hands remained still as you dialed in on the game. Initially, you drowned out their commotion during the first round. By the end of the second round, you were purposely eavesdropping - which might not have been the right word considering they’d stepped in on your work as opposed to the other way around. In the last round you’d started tracking who laid down what, correctly predicting Jesse’s win. You’d been counting their cards.

As the next round started you didn’t see the harm in possibly lending poor Dogma a little help. You were sure that Tup was right in Dogma’s knowledge of the game, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a little boost. 

Nonchalantly positioning yourself for a view of the whole table, you kept an eye on the cards going around. It seemed that Jesse’s streak might finally break, and fortune was turning in Dogma’s favor.

Confident the other men had equally as bad hands, or worse, than him, you nearly turned away until Dogma started reaching for the draw pile. Hoping to stop him, you purposely scraped your spanner into the device in hand. By chance, the noise stalled him enough to glance towards you.

In a subtle second, you gave a discouraging shake of your head. His eyes stayed on you, albeit with a suspicious glint, as he retracted his hand. Dogma was in no way subtle and his obtuse reaction, just like all of his other tells, was not lost on his squad. You were back to looking busy by the time heads turned your way.

The moment the men returned their attention to the game you followed suit. For reasons unknown to you, Dogma maintained a frustrated expression despite the fact that you knew he had the lowest count hand. At that point, you were certain - he had no clue what the point of the game was or what it took to win. 

The round came to an end when Tup passed on his turn. It was Dogma’s best chance at winning and luckily Dogma did you the favor of looking your way without signal. You quickly mouthed ‘call’ before the others caught on. 

Tup did lean back in search of Dogma’s distraction, surprised to find you spectating. A small smile was all it took for Tup to shrug off his suspicions.

“Call.” Dogma announced with more confidence than you’d expected. 

The table erupted in mild laughter, with Kix nudging Jesse playfully. Jesse leaned forward, eyebrow raised skeptically. "You're bluffing."

"I second that," Kix chimed in. "No way I'm folding."

"Not a chance," Jesse added.

"And what keeps catching your eye?" Fives turned sharply, his suspicion fading as soon as he saw you. Leaning back with a relaxed grin, he draped an arm over the back of his chair. "Didn’t think you’d be interested in card games," he teased. “Or take you for a gambling woman.”

Catching the curious glances from the group, you shrugged lightly, your voice laced with feigned boredom, “Oh, I don’t gamble.” Setting aside the transceiver with the same small smile you gave Tup. “That’s for people who need luck.”

A round of “oohs” filtered through the group, each of the clones smirking to one another.

Fives’ head dipped, clearly amused by the jab. “That’s some big talk.” He nodded again to the table at this back. “Alright then, you tell us who’s going to win.”

You attempted a thoughtful frown but the edge you had on them wouldn’t let you stop smiling. “Well, I know it won’t be you.”

A sharp snort came from across the table. You and Fives peaked over at Dogma, who was finally showing some light heartedness. The smile Dogma finally wore made you feel even more confident in your interjecting. The man really needed to loosen up and you were glad to help.

Unbothered, Fives peered back at you then around the table at each of his brothers. “Not me, huh?” Slinking his arm back around he smoothly glanced at his cards once more and, with a casual flick of his wrist, exposed his hand.

Eager to see the results, you shoved out of your seat to stand at Fives’ shoulder. You were disappointed to see your prediction was a card off, but only by the suit, not the number. And, if you were right, Dogma still had the winning hand.

The others groaned and tossed their cards in. Jesse, visibly knocked down a peg, clicked his tongue and shoved his cards in Tup’s direction. The motion turned the cards face up and revealed a hand that lost to both Fives and Dogma.

You eyed the cards Tup gathered before looking over at Dogma. He had an iron grip on his two cards and an odd expression pinching his face. It was a mix between worry, confusion, and forced composure. Altogether it would be best described as outright discomfort.

Sighing, you relaxed with your head cocked to the side. Pointing over at him you nodded, “Go on Dogma,” you paused, shoring up the courage to join their ribbing. “Show them what it’s like to lose.”

Tup laughed heartily, stopped organizing the cards to give Dogma a sarcastic pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, c’mon Dogma. Show us.”

Instead of shoving Tup off, Dogma smacked his cards down in front of him. He kept the faces hidden beneath his hand for a suspenseful moment before unveiling his winning hand.

Dogma’s discomfort melted away as Tup’s sarcasm turned congratulatory while the others scoffed about Dogma’s luck.

In a show of disbelief, Jesse snapped his head in your direction. His tattoo was distorted by the severe pinching of his brows. “How’d you know he was going to win?” 

Fives leaned in on his elbows, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone gets a little lucky.” The dismissal bit into your pride, a slight you wouldn’t let pass.

Bringing your face to his level, you purred to Fives, “Like I said, I don’t need luck Corporal.” You mimicked Tup’s gentle pat to the shoulder as you straightened back out. “If you must know, it’s called ‘counting cards’.”

“You counted the cards?” Kix leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, and wearing an incredulous grin. “From over there?” He exchanged a shake of his head with Jesse beside him.

In a voice that was more impressed than incredulous Jesse said, “It does seem like a reach.”

“You’re just mad that you lost.” Dogma interjected, sending a reassuring nod your way. Out of his squad, he’d been the least personable with you up to that point. Not that his struggle with the softer touches of rapport building ever offended you, it just made the small display of kindness stand out more than it would coming from the others.

Unfortunately, his newfound endearance put you on the spot when he followed up by saying, “In fact, I bet she’d wipe the floor with you lot.” 

Dogma wasn’t smiling at you as his brothers turned fully on you, but he was positively brimming with pure confidence in you. He was so much easier to win over than you’d expected and yet, for all he knew, you could’ve just gotten lucky. His borderline blind faith was concerning as it was flattering.

“Well…” Your voice trailed off as the weight of their expectant smiles settled in.

Fives shifted completely around in his chair, soaking up the awkward twinge in your smile. “I’ll take that bet.”

Something about the way his eyebrow quirked up at you in challenge made your stomach flip. For the sake of your sanity you hoped it was born from friendly competition as opposed to charm. 

Sucking on a tooth, you gave it one last thought and rolled your eyes. “If you want to go broke that badly, I won’t say no.” 

Your compliance, reluctant as you tried to make it seem, roused another round of cheering from the men. Fives and Jesse gladly scooted apart, making way as you drug a chair over. 

While you settled in, Tup chuckled as he began shuffling the cards, “If we’d known you liked sabacc, we’d have made you join ages ago.”

Brushing off nonexistent dust from your sleeve you replied, “If I’d known you were this easy to beat I’d have joined ages ago.” Earning their jovial reactions was weirdly satisfying and made you a little annoyed you hadn’t warmed up sooner.

“Alright, alright. Enough chatter.” Fives said in a warm tone. He sat close enough that he only had to lean over slightly to bump into you. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, Shorty.”

Your face heated a bit, neck nearly snapping as you looked up at him. Jesse’s laugh cut you off as you tried to refute the moniker. You weren’t quick enough in turning on Jesse before Kix piped up.

“You are shorter than, well, all of us.”

Even Dogma seemed amused by their joking with you. For him, it probably felt nice for the center of the joking to just not be him for a while. And… it didn’t feel bad either to get the same treatment as they all did.

Despite scoffing to yourself, there was no hiding your enjoyment. A feeling had been bubbling in you through the entire interaction and, without warning, you started laughing loudly and genuinely. Unbeknownst to you, as eager as you were to keep them laughing, seeing your real smile for the first time made the 501st boys just as determined to keep you smiling.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” You mumbled as the laughter subsided.

“Ahh, stick with us and I’ll bet you’ll be sick of it.” Tup said, earning an agreeable mumble from the rest of his brothers.

You shrugged, unconvinced. “I’ll take that bet.”

tags: @bruh-myguy-what @baddest-batchers @jetii @hshfsjzjsgj @zahmaddog

[paperback-rascal]

Some time ago I drew a short comics about instead being trapped in cryofreezer for decades, Kix was found by Clone Force 99 -> [LINK] <-. Now imagine him settling in as a mother henmedic of the Havoc Marauder crew.

---

see more Kix the CF99′s medic posts here -> [LINK] <-

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[toska-writes]

“Sleeping/Cuddling Clone Headcannons”

Clones x GN padawan reader

(I guess it could be read in a different way butttt I wrote it with the intention of reader being younger)

Enjoy this because I couldn’t sleep last night!

Rex

• He would definitely be the one everyone goes to for a post mission cuddle

• I mean can you blame them? How could you not feel safe in his arms??

• Rex is 100% the one that would trace small patterns over your arms or back to help you both sleep

• He sleeps wherever as long as you stayed asleep and were comfortable- losing feeling in his arm? That doesn’t matter

• His arm is like a weighted blanket around anyone that he shares a bunk with, it doesn’t matter who it is he has to be holding them tightly

Cody

• I think Cody is the type to wrap his entire being and soul around whoever he’s sleeping with

• He just gets so close and it’s not even his fault because he’s asleep

• Would be the person to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck, and vise versa

• Definitely the big spoon but occasionally will switch

• If you are in the same bunk as Cody I think you would start off barely touching but by morning it would be like you were stuck together.

Fives

• Fives is a complete starfish in his bunk and will take up as much room as he can

• However of course if you do ask to bunk with him he would definitely move over, but don’t be surprised if a leg or arm invades your space in the middle of the night

• If you struggle with falling asleep or nightmares I think he would be a verbal comforter and would whisper things in the dark

• His head would probably rest somewhere on your stomach or on your back

• He honestly loves when there is someone else in his bunk with him and can’t remember the last time there wasn’t

Echo

• Sleeps on his back like he was trained too

• You would just show up one night a snuggle right into his side melting into his stiff shape

• Over the course of a few minutes, whether he his conscious or not he will turn more and more ‘out of regulation’ until he has you in his hold

• He definitely holds you so that his chin can rest perfectly on the top of your head

• He practically radiates heat and it feels so nice on cold campaigns

• After joining the bad batch you found that’s it’s much better for the both of you if you just sleep in each others embrace

Hardcase

• Snores like an absolute freight train

• He use to be a very heavy sleeper but after the events of Umbara Hardcase feels a lot better if your in his bunk too

•He will absolutely be the big spoon and will put his head on your shoulder and by your neck

• Ok but just imagine Hardcase’s bed full of stuff animals- if that’s not the cutest thing then idk what is

• they are all named and he would definitely give you one to cuddle with along with him

• Loves when you trace over his tattoos, it puts him right to sleep

Kix

• Kix doesn’t get enough sleep as is, but using the excuse that if he lays with you you’ll go to sleep too

• You can practically feel how exhausted he his with his tense muscles when he lays down

• In this case he is definitely the little spoon. With everything this he deals with being a medic it’s the least he deserves

• You love making up funny stories to try and soothe each other as you both lay there together

• Kix definitely sleeps with some sort of white noise to try and drown his racing thoughts

Wolffe

• He would protest a little bit saying that he likes his personal space, but my boy is so touched deprived and will think that this is the highest form of trust

• It’s like sleeping with a warm weighted blanket

• Wolffe would be that person that wouldn’t really fall asleep until he knew you were alright

• He would definitely be a head scratcher because of all the times that Plo Koon has done it for him

• Wolffe wouldn’t tell anyone really if his padawan stayed in his bunk or not but everyone could definitely tell by his attitude and that there are no bags under either of your eyes

Fox

• 100% the small spoon. I will fight you on this one don’t try me, I believe this with my whole heart

• Just to be held like that He would pass away

• Following the same theme I think he would grumble about it and not really want to give up some space in HIS bed to you

• He completely melts into your touch and will find a way to get closer and closer to you

• Fox would definitely sleep in the fetal position

• I think he would be one of those people that wouldn’t get nightmares if someone held him tight enough and I stand by that

_____________________________________

There will be a part 2 to this with the bad batch and others!

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @pb-jellybeans @padawancat97 @floffytofu

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Thank you! Lol, that conversation definitely did not go the way Quiggold expected 😂

No context spoilers:

⬇️ Quiggold ⬇️

⬇️ Maree ⬇️

⬇️ Reveth ⬇️

⬇️ Valsi ⬇️

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 13

Strangers with Candy

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.2K

Warnings: pirate shenanigans; angst; Valsi being all, "Help is on the way, dear!"

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

It was hot in the New Republic Galactic Library. Maree glared at the enormous transparisteel window in her office and vigorously cursed whatever kriffing nerf herder had made the stupid-ass decision to install a window that couldn’t be opened. She adjusted the small fan on her desk as she scrolled through the morning’s holomessages. Most of them were from colleagues complaining about the temperature. Most recently, the head maintenance droid had sent out an announcement that the sprawling complex’s central climate control would not be adjusted until the summer solstice. Maree squinted with irritation as the indignant replies began to pop up in her inbox.

She scowled as she reviewed the New Republic Judiciary’s latest research directive. What’s the shukking point, if they’re just going to cut a plea deal for amnesty? she thought crankily. She despised this weather. The record-breaking heat had only been amplified by the thick humidity rolling off the western ocean, which had also taken on a horrifying stench of decaying marine animals in the last few days. The air felt thick. Maree peeled the sheer fabric of her dress away from her body and tilted the fan to blow down her neckline in a futile attempt at cooling off.

The soft chime of her office door startled Maree, and she accidentally knocked the fan off the desk. Muttering curses under her breath, she scrambled to set the fan back in place.

“Come in,” she snapped.

The door slid open to reveal the receptionist Eidani Olphes, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Good morning, Eidani,” Maree said. 

“Good morning, Dr. Finnall,” Eidani said. “Is everything all right?”

“Bendudays, am I right?” Maree sighed. The Devaronian nodded. “What can I do for you this morning, Eidani?”

Eidani glanced behind her to the closed door of the outer office.

“There are some people here to see you, Dr. Finnall,” she said. “They seem a little… Disreputable. Would you like me to call security?”

“Did they say what they wanted?” Maree asked.

Eidani shook her head. Maree exhaled audibly.

“I suppose we’d better find out. Teejay, please send our guests in. Thank you, Eidani. You don’t have to stay if they make you uncomfortable.”

Eidani nodded gratefully and scurried away as two beings entered the office. One was a Gabdoran with a prosthetic leg made rather ingeniously from a fuel funnel, and the other was an intimidating figure dressed head-to-toe in red and black and wearing a red helmet modeled after a Kaleesh mask. Both men had blasters strapped to their hips, which was not an uncommon sight on Hosnian Prime, but was generally frowned upon inside the NRGL. No wonder Eidani had seemed a tad skittish.

“Good morning,” she said. “I am Dr. Maree Finnall.”

The Gabdoran stepped forward heavily. “Greetings, Dr. Finnall,” he said in a ceremonious tone. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Quiggold, first mate of the Meson Martinet, and this is my esteemed captain, Sidon Ithano.”

The tall crimson man nodded his masked head in silent greeting. Was she supposed to recognize the name of their ship? And why was the Gabdoran talking like he was announcing a guest of honor at a formal ball? And why was it so Maker-forsaken humid?

“A pleasure to meet you,” she said. “Please come in. Would you like a cup of tea? Or some spiced biscuits?”

Ithano wordlessly declined, but Quiggold accepted with enthusiasm. “I thank you for your gracious offer, Dr. Finnall. Perhaps just the biscuits. The weather is too oppressive for tea.”

Maybe the formality is a Gabdoran thing, Maree thought as she arranged a few biscuits on a plate and pulled a large carafe of chilled water out of the mini-conservator.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” she said as she set the refreshments on the table. “How can I assist you today?”

Quiggold crunched a biscuit with a blissful expression on his face. “May I say, Doctor, that these biscuits are exquisite!”

“Thank you,” Maree said, waiting for him to get to the kriffing point. She sipped a glass of water and subtly pressed her wrist to the cold glass, seeking any measure of relief from the heat. How in the name of the Force did Ithano survive under all those layers? And with the mask as well? 

“That is a remarkable helmet, Captain Ithano,” she said. “Have you spent much time on Kalee?”

The captain shook his head slowly.

“Well spotted, Dr. Finnall,” Quiggold said around a bite of his second biscuit. “Not everyone recognizes the helmet, but then, I suppose not everyone is an expert in military history. I believe we have indeed found the right individual for the job.”

Maree blinked. “Job? What job?”

Quiggold cleared his throat, then took a long drink of water. “My illustrious captain has a proposition for you. It has come to his attention that he is in need of an historian to document his glorious deeds for posterity. There are some in the Outer Rim territories who doubt his fearsome reputation, but no-one would dare to question the testimony of an esteemed and reputable scholar such as yourself.”

“What kind of glorious deeds would require such documentation?” Maree asked, bewildered.

“The Meson Martinet specializes in—er—asset retrieval,” Quiggold said.

Maree narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Indeed. I recently encountered another ‘asset retrieval’ specialist.”

“What a remarkable coincidence!” Quiggold said unconvincingly. “As you may imagine, there are many in the Outer Rim who would style themselves as such, though the Martinet crew’s skills and talents are unrivaled.”

“Oh? Tell me about this crew,” Maree said darkly.

“All in good time,” Quiggold chuckled, sounding slightly apprehensive at her tone. “Of course, the captain understands that you might hesitate to leave your distinguished and safe position at the Archive, not to mention your lovely flat, especially given the danger and excitement of the Outer Rim territories.”

Maree’s jaw twitched, but she said nothing.

Quiggold forged ahead. “And so, we have an additional incentive to offer you, knowing your interest in the Clone Wars.”

Against her better judgment, Maree asked, “And what incentive would that be?”

“We have recently acquired extensive intelligence regarding as-yet untouched, unexplored Separatist bases.”

“How very convenient for you,” Maree said.

“Think of the scholarly potential, Dr. Finnall,” Quiggold said raptly. “Dozens of Separatist outposts that have never been excavated by archaeologists or historians. Imagine the advancements in knowledge you could contribute to your field! The prestige!”

“Imagine,” Maree said in the driest voice possible.

“Ah, but perhaps you doubt the authenticity of our intel. Allow me to assure you that our source is of utmost integrity and trustworthiness.”

“Is he?” Maree asked in a forbidding tone. “And is this ‘source’ aware of the purpose of your visit today?”

Quiggold exchanged a speaking look with the impassive captain. “Er… I… He…”

Maree sighed. “You were just going to ambush him with me, weren’t you?”

“‘Ambush’ is such a strong word,” Quiggold began.

“Oh, were you thinking of presenting me on a silver platter instead?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Has it occurred to you that you don’t know anything about me? I could be a vibroaxe murderer, for all you know.”

“Are you?” Quiggold asked, intrigued.

“No, but that is exactly what a vibroaxe murderer would say,” Maree snapped.

Quiggold gaped, speechless for once.

“To be clear,” Maree said, “you want me to resign my position, sell my home, and run away with a crew of pirates—”

“Asset retrieval specialists!” Quiggold interjected. 

“—to bank my entire future on a man who doesn’t even know my favorite color! You want me to do all of this on the off chance that Kix actually wants me, and you didn’t even ask him first?” Maree demanded.

“He wants you.” The gravelly voice came from the captain—the first words he’d spoken since his arrival.

Maree took several steadying breaths, counted to ten, and then replied. “You must be very certain of that to have come all this way. This definitely isn’t just some half-baked matchmaking scheme to get your resident clone trooper laid.”

Quiggold and Ithano exchanged another look.

“Thank you for the offer, Captain,” Maree said crisply. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a rather full schedule today. Please feel free to explore the library on your way out. Good day.”

Quiggold opened and closed his mouth several times as he hustled out of Maree’s office. Ithano stood quietly and approached her desk, dropping a commlink in front of her before departing. Maree barely resisted the urge to fling it after him. After they had disappeared down the hallway, Maree slapped the control to close her door, buried her face in a throw pillow, and let out a frustrated yell.

She had no meetings scheduled for the day, which was fortunate, as it gave her plenty of opportunities to vent her rage. She locked her office and refused to answer any comms or messages, instead burying herself in building an evidence file for her latest Judiciary assignment. By the end of her workday, she was drenched in sweat and ready for a stiff drink.

Not Pamarthen Port in a Storm, though.

As she pushed out of the staff entrance, she was accosted by an unfamiliar feminine voice.

“You know, for a Clone Wars expert, you sure don’t know shit about clones.”

Maree’s eye twitched. She turned to see a gorgeous red Twi’lek with a mechanical arm leaning against the building.

“And you are?” Maree asked.

“Call me Reveth,” the woman said.

“Is that your name?” Maree asked, in no mood to deal with any more pirate shenanigans.

The Twi’lek stared her down for a moment, but at last she relented. “Yes.”

“All right, Reveth. Enlighten me. What am I missing about clones?”

Reveth shoved herself off the building and sauntered over to Maree. “Walk with me.”

“Technically, you are walking with me,” Maree said with some acerbity, resuming her pace.

“The thing about clones is,” Reveth said, paying no attention to Maree’s petty interruption, “they spent their whole lives being told they had no value and they didn’t deserve nothing.”

“Thank you for that groundbreaking insight,” Maree said. She winced, instantly regretting the peevish note in her voice.

“And after hearing that every single day from the minute they slid out of the tube, it was—is—hard for them to believe any different.”

“You’re saying Kix doesn’t believe he deserves to be with someone.”

“I’m saying it’ll be a cold day in every Sith hell before that man asks for something for his own.”

“I understand,” Maree said with a sigh. “But it’s not that simple. Kix has never been allowed to choose his own path. His entire existence was dictated by the Republic. I can’t just force myself into his life. I won’t take that choice away from him.”

The Twi’lek eyed Maree with something akin to respect. “But if he was to ask, what would you say?”

Maree walked silently for a moment.

“I—I’m—not sure,” she stammered.

“You’re scared,” Reveth accused. “You talk a big game about being so noble and letting Kix choose, but you’re just hiding behind that excuse so you don’t have to go after what you want and risk losing your comfortable little life here.”

“Stars, have you been talking to Valsi?” Maree asked, taken aback. 

“Who’s Valsi?” Reveth asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maree snapped. “And how would you know what I want, anyway? You don’t know me.”

“Top of your class at the University of Coruscant,” Reveth said. “Senior editor of the University Journal of Military History. Received full tenure at the Archive two years ago—congratulations.”

“That’s all public record,” Maree said. “Anyone with access to the Holonet can find my CV.”

“In the past seven years, you have submitted nineteen proposals for field research in the Outer Rim territories. All of them were denied.”

Maree stared. “How did you know that?”

Reveth continued as though Maree hadn’t interrupted. “They gave different reasons each time, but they blamed most of them on funding or security concerns.”

“I know,” Maree said, exasperated. “I read them.”

Reveth smirked. “But I doubt you got to read the internal message that the Archive director sent after your sixth submission, ordering the outreach department to reject any expedition proposals that you submitted.”

Maree stumbled to a halt. Her heart began to thump uncomfortably, and her palms grew damp.

“What?” she asked dumbly. “Why?”

Reveth gave her a sympathetic look. “The memo said the work you do was too valuable to the New Republic to let you out of the Archive. Something about a ‘devastating loss to the Judiciary.’ They clipped your wings so you wouldn’t realize they had you in a cage all along.”

Maree felt sick. All this time, she’d thought that she was the problem—that her proposals were not robust or compelling enough to secure funding; that her research was too esoteric. So she’d worked longer hours, expanded her scholarship into fields outside her interests, sat on committees, mentored fledgling archivists, attended every Maker-forsaken gala and benefit the Library threw, supported her colleagues in the hope that they would someday return the favor. And in the end, all that effort was the very thing that hamstrung her. She’d made herself indispensable at the expense of her own ambitions, trapped in a cycle of her own making.

“Hey, breathe,” Reveth said, nudging Maree’s shoulder. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”

“How did you learn all of this?” Maree demanded.

“Every pirate crew needs a decent slicer,” Reveth said. “How do you think Kix got a ticket to the gala?”

“Oh, my gods, the restaurant,” Maree said. “That was you? That was the worst meal of my life!”

“Let’s not get caught up in the details,” Reveth said hastily. “Remember, it’s your employer that deserves your rage. You know, the one that’s been gaslighting and undermining you for years.”

“I can be angry about two things at once,” Maree said. “I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“But you’re more angry at them, right?” Reveth said. “Besides, I can make it up to you by buying you an actual dinner. I’ve heard you get a little cranky when you’re hungry.”

Maree gave her a suspicious look. “Are you sure you haven’t been talking to Valsi?”

“Nope, that was from your interns’ group holomessage chat.”

“What else did they say?” Maree asked, instantly distracted.

“Come on, I’ll tell you over a nerfburger.”

Maree called in sick the next day, and the two days after. Late in the afternoon on the third day, she holocalled Valsi. “Hey, are you free tonight? I need to talk.”

Valsi tilted her head to take in Maree’s disheveled appearance. “You look terrible. You must be really sick. Are you contagious?”

“No. Gods, at least I hope not,” Maree said devoutly. “I’m not actually sick. I just needed some time to think.”

“Ugh, an acute case of soul-searching! That sounds serious. Maybe even fatal. I’m supposed to have dinner with Tane tonight, but I’ll reschedule,” Valsi said.

Guilt immediately assaulted Maree. “You don’t have to do that—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be there at 6. Is this a sober kind of conversation, or a whiskey kind of conversation?”

“Definitely whiskey,” Maree sighed, feeling better already.

Valsi burst through the door right on time and flopped dramatically onto Maree’s sofa. “Thank the stars your air conditioning is working. It is muggier than Dagobah out there. Please tell me you ordered something delicious and unhealthy for dinner.”

The doorbell chimed.

“Your wish is my command,” Maree said as she opened the door to collect her takeout order from a delivery droid. “Glowblue noodles with shaak, sweet and sour nuna, and flash-fried zuchii.”

“I always knew you loved me,” Valsi said, reaching for the bag of food.

Maree grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Cheedoan whiskey before joining Valsi on the sofa.

“Ooh, breaking out the good stuff,” Valsi said speculatively. “Are we celebrating or wallowing?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Maree said.

Valsi stopped chewing. “Well, now I’m nervous,” she mumbled around her bite of nuna.

“Should I wait until we’re done eating before I start?” Maree asked.

Valsi swallowed and shook her head. “Might as well rip off the bacta patch. What’s up?”

“I found out something at work,” Maree said. “Something I wasn’t supposed to know.”

“Are you in trouble?” Valsi asked, concern evident in her voice. “Maree, are you in danger?”

“No, nothing like that,” Maree hastened to say. “Here, read this.” 

She handed Valsi a datapad that Reveth had given her, currently displaying the Archive director’s memorandum to the Department of Outreach. Valsi scanned it wordlessly, her eyes narrowing as she proceeded. 

“Are you kriffing kidding me?” she demanded. “How could they do this to you?”

Her righteous fury was incredibly affirming to Maree’s wounded soul. “Thank you!” she exclaimed. “For a minute I thought maybe I was overreacting, but—”

“The fact that you haven’t burned the director’s house to the ground says you’re underreacting,” Valsi said. “That karking mudscuffer!”

“Arson might be a bit much,” Maree demurred. 

“Only if you get caught,” Valsi said. “Speaking of getting caught, how did you find out about this? This memo is years old.”

“Ah, uh, a friend sent it to me,” Maree said.

Valsi raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What friend? How did they even know about it? Was it someone in admin?”

“No,” Maree said. “It—it actually came from someone who was offering me a job.”

Valsi stared at Maree in silence for a moment. “I didn’t realize you were looking.”

She sounded hurt, and Maree felt like the lowest scum in the galaxy.

“I wasn’t,” Maree said. “It was an unexpected offer from someone with a mutual acquaintance.”

“Are you going to take it?” Valsi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Maree said. “But now that I know about the memo, I can’t stay at the Archive. Not now that I know they’ll never let me go out in the field.”

Valsi looked stricken. “Damn. I kind of thought we’d always be together. You’re right, of course. But I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s not like I’m dying,” Maree said, forcing a laugh. “We’ll still get to see each other. I might even stay on Hosnian.”

“You won’t,” Valsi said with conviction. “You’ve always wanted to get out there and get your hands dirty, and you can’t do that in the Core worlds.”

Maree looked down, unexpected tears pricking at her eyes. “Damn. I’m going to miss you, too.”

Valsi sniffled and then grabbed Maree and pulled her into a tight hug. Maree rubbed her face on her friend’s shoulder to blot away her tears.

“Do you know what you’re going to do next?” Valsi asked as they broke apart.

“I’m not sure yet,” Maree admitted. “I have some ideas for private fundraising for an expedition, but it will take time. I might go spend a few months with my moms. Baba will have some good ideas for places where I could do some original research.”

“Wherever you land, I know you’re going to do something spectacular,” Valsi said. “I can’t wait to see it. And I’m so proud of you. Even if I think you’re a little deranged for wanting to go out and dig in the dirt and the spiders.”

Maree let out a watery laugh. “I love you, nerf herder.”

“I love you more, bubblebrain.”

Maree refilled their whiskey glasses, and Valsi held hers up in a toast. “To dirt and spiders, and following your dreams.” They drank, and then she asked, “So, need any help drafting your resignation letter?”

---

Chapter 14

Tagging:

@secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420

[lonewolflupe]

Let Me Fix That For You (One-Shot)

I might have accidentally written this whilst trying to finish three WIPs #writer's struggles

Summary: when you start having a panic attack, medic Kix can only think of one last treatment to calm you down Rating: Teen and up Tags: light angst (battlefield/injury/panic attack), hurt/comfort, fluff (kissing), SFW Words: 917 Pairing: CT-6116 Kix x gen!reader Read this one-shot here on AO3

It was hard to sit down still and motionless with all the action going on around you. Your instincts made you cower your head whenever there was an impact near your position, you shot upright when a squad of clones made it past you towards the battlefront and you fidgeted with your comm device the moment it made a static sound, ready to receive new orders.

Kix carefully examined your arm, slightly turning it to see what exact angle the small piece of shrapnel was making in order to get it out by hurting you as little as possible. Luckily, it hadn't been a direct hit, or it would have been much worse. The shrapnel had bounced off from some debris before it had hit your arm.

“Let me fix that for you,” he said gently, his comforting smile lost behind his helmet before he got to work. He took a tool from his medpac and placed a firm grip on your arm to steady you. But you were all over the place, a sensory overload from everything that was going on around you and the need to return into battle, to keep up with your responsibilities.

“Keep still,” Kix urged you sternly when you kept shifting nervously at every unusual sound, the gaze through his visor not averting from your wound. “Yessir,” you shot at him, trying to make it sound light-hearted, but you winced when he pulled the shrapnel out with one smooth, sudden movement.

“That was the worst part,” he said in a comforting way, but that didn't make the remainder of his treatment a pleasant experience. The bacta spray stung in your wound, and you pulled back your arm in a reflex. 

“Keep. Still,” he shot at you, slowly to make the words sink into you more clearly. “I-I don't have time for this,” you muttered, trying to get up, but he pulled you back down. “Oh, there will be plenty of clankers left when I'm done with this, don't you worry,” he chuckled at you, trying to lift the mood to make you feel better, but his intentions were lost on you.

“They need me out there!” you shot at him, a strange, frantic look in your eyes, and he instantly knew you were starting to have a panic attack. “Focus!” he called at you urgently, as your chest started heaving from heavy breathing.

Without thinking, he took his helmet off, his brown eyes piercing into yours. “Focus,” he repeated, this time softer, as he gently took your face between his hands, forcing your gaze to his in hopes to calm you down.

But it seemed like you were looking straight through him, your eyes hollow and your breathing shallow. There was one last remedy he could think of; something he had wanted to do for some time now, but he had never imagined it would be in a situation like this, as a last option.

He leaned forward and landed his lips on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and a gasp left your lungs, but it had the intended effect: you calmed down immediately, solely focussing on this tender moment.

At first, it was just to grab your attention, to distract you so you would stop panicking. But since Kix had been looking forward to this moment, he started putting more feeling into it, giving in to his own emotions and desires.

His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you gently and keeping you steady as his lips explored yours. And slowly but steadily, you indulged in the kissing, answering his unusual treatment by returning the favour. Your lips brushed against his, and he could feel your breathing steadying against his skin.

You caught him off guard when you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close against his chest. You tilted your head in order to reach him, to taste him, to let him know you had wanted this for some time, and he was all too glad to receive you.

When the two of you finally cooled down, you could feel Kix chuckling softly against your lips, which made them curl into a smile. Your chest was heaving again - but this time from excitement. You pulled away, but Kix’s hand was still on the back of your head, his thumb caressing your scalp.

“You good?” he checked on you, a caring smile on his face, but you noticed a flicker in his eyes. “Yeah, never been better,” you replied smiling, sliding a hand through your hair before you noticed his shoulder piece was shifted out of place - probably caused by your sudden lunge towards him.

“Let me fix that for you,” you repeated his earlier words before readjusting the piece of armour. He chuffed in the most endearing way; he had been sure you hadn't processed those words during your starting panic attack earlier, and here you were, using them on him.

When you finished fixing his shoulder piece, he gently put his hand on top of yours and squeezed it. “No more injuries, alright?” he kindly urged you, and you granted him a quick nod and another ‘yessir’. He smiled and stroked your cheek before he put his helmet on again.

“See you when it's over,” he said to you, getting back to his feet and offering his hand. You gladly took it, and he pulled you up. “I'm counting on it,” you smirked at him, before emerging into battle again.