#helix the clone medic

[themonopolyhat]

shoulder the sky: the windix hanahaki au

that time i was screwing around in chat with @shootingstarpilot and accidentally coughed up a 6K+ windix-flavored hanahaki au for his shoulder the sky series. (hanahaki disease is a fic trope in which unrequited or unconfessed love causes flowers to grow in the afflicted person's lungs.)

compiling the comments here for funsies. featuring mace and helix, needle and stitch, cody, obi-wan, and a whole pile of tropes bubblegum-taped together.

as always, helix the clone medic belongs to @swmoddy, needle and stitch belong to @shootingstarpilot

the setup:

@shootingstarpilot​: this is taking the concept and running with it, but i like the thought that it's not just romantic feelings, it's familial too. im just thinking about kamino's fucked up upbringing, how dangerous that sort of out-loud acknowledgement would be--

@themonopolyhat​: oh i knew you would hurt me with this i knew it

@shootingstarpilot​: thinking about helix, helix who loves in everything he does but doesn't say it, never thought he needed to, starting to cough up flowers

my crimes:

so maybe it's not every clone, maybe it's just a few really unlucky ones that get hit with this predisposition

most of them die young bc kamino is a bad place and lots of clones get culled, it's statistically likely for any clone with a deviation from the norm to get caught and killed

helix is one of the very, very, very, very few that makes it out. and he does so without becoming a cold unfeeling bastard, which is the usual defense mechanism

if he loves someone, he starts to cough petals. the symptoms abate if he confesses. that's easy enough for him, he's a medic and he's kind and he's not shy. he tells his brothers he loves them, no problem.

sometimes he coughs petals for a few days before he figures out who the new culprit is.

sometimes he coughs for a few days and then the symptoms clear up, and he figures out that the culprit died.

the thing is that he really does have a good grasp of professional distance. he doesn't love every patient, though he cares for them. he's good at holding his heart carefully. he just doesn't mind loving colleagues and friends and batchers easily.

he loves needle on day three. coughs petals, isn't even fucking surprised. needle hugs him desperately when helix tells him he loves him. it's something needle hasn't heard since -- well. since he got up from the chair a different person.

he loves stitch on day two. that one's a surprise. it's not because stitch is quiet and wary and obviously, obviously hurt. that inspires sympathy and protectiveness.

it's the way stitch fixes pillows and adjusts cannulas and talks so softly to the men in his care. he remembers everything he's told. he's brilliant. he's sweet. he cares and he's talented and he doesn't ever look for praise.

helix tells him he loves him on day eight, because any sooner and he's sure the poor kid would shut right down on him. it's cutting it close -- stitch is confused but thanks him. helix pops another throat lozenge and goes about his day.

[needle and stitch] figure it out after a while and in retrospect they're like ohhhhh helix you enormous sap you loved us that fast???

things are fine, really

u n t i l

there comes a day, a little ways into the war, when helix coughs petals. and it takes him some time to realize that he's coughing them up over his first natborn.

the first natborn he's ever loved -- the first who's ever earned it --

helix just kind of bangs his head down on his arms when he finally cottons on. he's a moron. of course it's their general. their kind, funny, exasperating general who loves them and flings his body between them and pain and death every goddamn chance he gets -- who defends them with every scrap of that gigantic brain and that silvery tongue and the weight of his own title and influence and connections --

helix loves obi-wan. he's coughing petals over it.

his boys figure him out way too fast, as always, and they suss out the complication just as fast when they've cornered helix in the office.

needle and stitch stare, a bit wide-eyed, as the reality sinks in.

"have you ever -- a natborn --?" needle asks delicately.

"no," helix grumbles tiredly, rubbing at his sore throat. "exactly which natborn would have made the cut?"

"how are you going to tell him? does it work if you use synonyms, or if you say it like you're joking?" stitch asks, undelicately.

helix gives him a wan little smile despite himself. "unfortunately, no, it doesn't work like that. i experimented when i was young. and... gods, i guess if i don't want to die, i'll have to figure out the how sooner or later."

fortunately for helix, blind luck gives him an easy out soon enough.

he's holed up with the general alone in a shallow crater, where they flung themselves to avoid being spotted while picking their way back to their own side of the battlefield.

why are they out here alone? because helix is playing field medic today, his larty got shot down, four men survived the crash aside from him, two of them died minutes after, the other two he was able to patch but they couldn't move fast with their injuries, and helix ended up hiding alone after an ugly chase.

and then obi-wan turned up to get him, in person, already dusty and sweaty and dinged up after the day's fighting, and helix still doesn't know exactly how the hells the general found one lone clone out here.

so they're here in the depression in the earth, catching their breath and drinking a little of what remains in their canteens.

"shouldn't be long now," the general murmurs lowly, checking the coordinates and the sky. "we're not far. another hour or three, if we're careful, and we'll be past the droids' scanning range. then it's just another half a day to camp, if cody's scouts pick us up right away."

helix nods. watches his general poke at the readout from his wrist comm some more. "i'm sorry you came all this way for just one," he hears himself saying out loud.

obi-wan doesn't look over, which is, helix has learned, a sure sign he's feeling some strong emotion and hiding it. "i'm not," he says easily, the reply so ready he must have had to express similar sentiments before. "this is what i am for, really. i'm just sorry i wasn't there soon enough to save anyone else along with."

helix's throat itches, and his lungs feel abruptly heavy. he hasn't coughed in front of obi-wan yet, and he doesn't intend to start now. maybe it's the fact that he knows he's talking to an empath, but it doesn't seem so difficult to get the words out, not when they're delivered on a swell of feeling.

"you make it easy to love you, general," he murmurs. "and i do. love you, i mean."

(he has to be explicit, or it doesn't work.)

obi-wan does look over, now, and his surprise is clear to see. "oh. ah. well." it's not often that he's caught so flat-footed, and helix finds it both hilarious and charming. "thank you? you must know i care for you, as well." a pause. "very much, helix. i care for you very much."

helix knows what he means. he feels lighter. breathing, of course, is easier. so is running, when they inevitably get to that point in the escape.

[fast forward to] the SECOND natborn helix loves enough to start the flowers growing again

everything develops in series canon... [mace and helix are] trauma besties. then friends. confidantes. they trust each other. they care for each other.

mace comes into helix's life at the same time that practically everything is horrible. so it's understandable that the realization takes time.

the coughing doesn't start, luckily, until after helix gets back from his trip through the rift. after seeing the utter lack of recognition in that other mace's eyes, the impersonal sizing-up and curiosity and distance. after seeing his mace again, clocking the warmth and depth of mace's attention and attentiveness, the way he carries himself with such grace, the faint curve of his mouth when he's amused and the light in his eyes --

helix coughs. realization comes swiftly. he hides from needle and stitch for nearly a full day.

the first time his voice goes scratchy, needle eyeballs him malevolently. the first time he stifles a cough around stitch, stitch immediately comms needle. it's inevitable. helix is resigned.

"who is it?" stitch asks outright. "it can't be someone new. we haven't gone anywhere in days."

"except to the past, and i can't see helix being the love at first sight type," needle muses, as he often has before. (he's very right and should repeat the facts often, in helix's opinion.) "so it's got to be somebody he already knows and just had a Moment about."

stitch gently, carefully listens to helix's breathing and hands him a lozenge, with the exact air of someone handing a child a sweet after shots. "do we need to guess or do you want to tell us?" he asks.

helix sets his hand over his eyes. "it's mace," he says flatly.

"oh," stitch says brightly.

"oh," needle says, deflating somewhat. "that makes sense."

helix swallows a chuckle and, in a spurt of ill-timed desire for support (even if it's in the form of teasing and the worst suggestions known to clonekind), he adds, "it's not... the regular kind."

"oh?" stitch asks, frowning, immediately concerned, the diagnostician in him leaping to the fore.

"oh," needle repeats. he blinks at helix for a moment. "oh." surprise, delight, and smugness are fighting an audible pitched battle for dominance. "stitch, buddy, put that away. it's not a difference in strain. it's a different catalyst."

stitch looks at needle and waits for explanation, which he will get -- nobody who loves stitch plays coy with him, it's not kind.

"helix doesn't just love like a friend or a brother this time," needle continues, though his voice is quieter now, soft and overjoyed and conspiring. "do you, helix? it's more than that."

helix leans back and looks up at the ceiling, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling like an idiot. damn, but it does feel good to have it outside his own head. good and annoying, but for now he'll coast on the good. "more," he replies simply, dryly.

it's more than enough for needle, who audibly grabs stitch and shakes him in place. "stitch!" he hisses. "helix is in love. romantically. with general windu!"

a deafening silence follows. helix can hear stitch processing from here. "is that even allowed?" stitch wants to know. he sounds baffled. little gods on rye, helix adores him.

helix looks at them again in time to see needle squishing stitch companionably under one arm. "if it's not, most of the army is in trouble," he answers cheerfully. "show me a man who hasn't got a thing for at least one of the generals and i'll show you a certified liar. or a you, unless you're holding out on me."

stitch wrinkles his nose. "i'm not holding out. they're the generals." which is all the explanation he seems to feel is warranted.

"right, right, but you've seen the nose art and the tats and the cartoons on the forums. the polls, too. didn't you vote for general kenobi in the last 'sexiest jedi' poll?"

"yes, because general fisto was winning and general kenobi deserves our support."

"well there you go."

helix doesn't want to think about any of the jedi generals in terms of sexiness (except one, maybe, and isn't that a new and shining and fragile line of thought), especially not kenobi. he coughs lightly into his fist, catching their immediate attention. "widespread pining aside, i know i can count on you both to be discreet about this," he tells them. "i probably wouldn't say anything to him if this damned disease wasn't going to force my hand, but as it is... well. i'll figure something out. i just need some time."

helix may not have any prior experience with this kind of love, but he knows it's not the sort of thing he can confess easily or casually, like he does to his brothers. nor does he anticipate circumstances conspiring to give him a good opening, like he had with obi-wan.

he has to figure out how to tell mace he's in love with him. a clone in love with a natborn. in love with a jedi, and the master of the order, at that.

but first, there's the rift. the past. and there's ben.

(watching mace tread carefully around ben does nothing to tamp down helix's feelings. he coughs for some minutes every morning, now. petals and more petals, mixed with mucus. sometimes it's tinged pink.)

he doesn't find the time. he doesn't make the time.

in his defense, there's very little time to be found or made.

he blinks, and ben is gone, the rift sealed, and mace has so many duties pulling him in every direction. helix is busy, too -- the clones are hurtling toward citizenship, and one of their first acts of freedom after the war is declared over?

[shoulder the sky spoilers redacted]

mace is going with them. he's on a different ship.

helix coughs and coughs and coughs. he takes suppressants during the day, and pays for it at night. pink turns to red. petals turn to buds, then to blooming flower heads. a leaf here, a young stalk there.

some nights he lays next to the commode after heaving up half a garden and gasps for air, his vision darkening all around the edges.

needle and stitch notice. of course they do. they know his throat is sore, his breathing hampered. they see the exhaustion dogging his steps.

needle takes helix aside one day and very, very seriously affixes an emergency call bracelet to his wrist. "it calls to stitch and me, both," he says crisply. "use it any time, any shift. you know we mean that."

helix just looks at it, guilt stirring down deep. he's killing himself slowly here, like a moron. and he's making them watch.

"helix," needle presses.

"i will," helix tells him softly.

"don't make us find you," needle begs him.

which is what makes helix decide he actually will use the damn thing. if he needs to.

he needs to sooner than he expected.

he gets a comm from mace that makes him chuckle fondly for half a day after. that night, he coughs so frantically that he finds himself fumbling for the bracelet -- he's going to pass out, he can't stay upright, he's afraid he'll vomit and aspirate, so he tumbles sideways and hopes it's close enough to the recovery position --

he comes awake hacking, convulsing with it. a hand strikes his back firmly, and a voice murmurs to him that he's all right, most of it's out already, there are just a few residuals, it's okay, you're okay...

he blinks wetly up at needle and stitch, who've wedged themselves into the little 'fresher with him and look very solemn indeed.

"drink this slowly," stitch commands, passing down an opened bulb of water. it's been warmed and tastes like salt and lozenges -- one of stitch's own recipes for sore throats.

needle holds helix's head in his lap, stroking his hair. "we pulled the major obstructions out while you were unconscious." he pauses. "it's never been this bad before."

he's scared them. he can see it.

"you have to tell him," stitch says, with such clear uncomprehending pain that helix has to close his eyes against it. "you can't do this for much longer, not without staying in medbay for observation and intervention."

"which means we'll tie you to a bed and intubate you and you'll have to make your confession via battle sign," needle adds darkly.

it's a little funny. helix doesn't mean to laugh, but he does, a little. a cough rattles free.

"i'm sorry, boys," he murmurs, and presses his cheek to needle's leg. "i really am. your cmo is an idiot."

"yes," stitch agrees. "which is why i already asked ponds to have general windu comm you tomorrow at lunch time. you can tell him then and your throat and lungs can start healing."

"you asked ponds...?" helix croaks in surprise.

"well. i asked ace who asked ponds who called to ask me for clarification and then told me he'd arrange it."

needle is all smiles. he lays a hand across helix's brow. "i want to hear the details of that conversation later."

"later," stitch agrees peaceably.

helix gives a shallow sigh. he didn't want to do this over comms, but he's running out of options and he knows it.

fast forward, the call with mace gets interrupted, helix does not get to tell him. he ends up back in medbay and needle and stitch look so hopeful and he feels worse about having to shake his head than he does about his own diminishing health.

(it's not an easy death, or so he imagines. there's never been a clone who lived long enough to die of this particular ailment. they don't even really know how long it might take.)

there won't be another chance to talk to mace before they make planetfall. it will have to wait.

(he shakes his head, no he didn't tell mace, no he's not taking a shift off even though he was up late gagging on flowers, no he doesn't need a break, he's fine, he just needs to sip water and take a hit off the inhaler stitch concocted for him)

it must be mentioned that some of the 212th has noticed their cmo seems a bit off. the boys aren't stupid, and they're so accustomed to the way a clone ought to look and move that deviations due to injury or illness stand out like flashing alarms. helix's color isn't great, and his breathing is wrong, and he doesn't move as quickly as he used to. he talks like it hurts his throat. he shifts his balance like he's fighting dizziness, sometimes.

it's noticeable. they notice. they have noticed.

cody is the one who comes to ask. he sets his helmet precisely on the corner of helix's desk and looks him squarely in the eye. "you're sick," he says, straight to the point.

helix doesn't bother asking how he knows, or whether anyone else does, too. it's likely that every clone aboard has a hunch, at least, or has heard about someone else's. (kenobi is actually the least likely to know. clones keep some things strictly in-house, and old habits die hard.) "i am."

cody nods slowly. "treatable?"

"in a manner of speaking." helix sighs, shallow and careful. "but not at the moment. i'm managing."

"will you need to go back to coruscant for treatment?"

helix considers for a moment. it might not be a bad idea if cody knows the truth. he's trustworthy with secrets, and if helix does croak, someone ought to tell obi-wan why. "it's hanahaki."

cody's expression is sort of hilarious. "you -- what?"

"the love disease. i'm coughing up flowers. it'll kill me at some point, if, well. you know."

cody opens and closes his mouth, and apparently has to sit down, because he drops out of his upright parade rest and into a chair as though he's had a few strings cut. "what the kark," he finally says.

helix grins wryly at him. "yeah."

"that's... i didn't know anyone got off kamino with that. they all got caught as cadets."

"most did."

"but not you."

"not me."

cody just stares at him. "you're sick because you love someone and you haven't told them."

"that's the sum of it, yes."

"helix, that is the stupidest way a clone could possibly die."

helix is surprised into laughing, which threatens to send him into a coughing fit. he reaches for the inhaler, smiling, and rasps, "don't i fucking know it, cody."

(it will occur to helix later that he really should have ribbed cody about his thing for the general -- if cody had been coughing flowers, it might have saved them all years of watching him and kenobi sashay around each other like nubian flamingos.)

cody doesn't ask who it is, and helix doesn't volunteer the information. it's immaterial to the situation they're all about to be in, anyway.

cody does tell helix in no uncertain terms to get his shit together, though. he does not want him to die of this like some tongue-tied airhead shiny.

truthfully, that leaves helix feeling very cheerful indeed. after they've [redacted], he decides. he'll find mace somewhere and tell him. short and sweet.

[redacted shit happens]

helix glimpses mace twice, from a distance.

there's no time to talk to him.

and then there's even less time than before.

[redacted redacted]

he's choking before he can catch a full breath. choking, coughing fruitlessly, clutching his chest, his throat, staggering to his knees instinctively because he knows he's going to fall --

someone is shouting. several someones, nearby and far away. there are hands on him, frantic questions, a light in his eyes. so many dismayed expressions hovering over him, he wants to bark at them to quit gawking and do something before they catch flies.

he can't speak. blood slides down his throat, coats his lips. there's a flower caught at the root of his tongue, huge and strangling. he can't breathe. he can't breathe. he can't --

he wakes up.

it's slightly surprising, to be honest.

he knows he's in his own medbay before he's even fully conscious. the sounds, the smell, the feel of the place is sunk into his bones by now. he knows it. it's home.

helix gingerly swallows, curling his fingers slightly in the blanket. he's so sore inside. breathing hurts. his throat feels like it's been peeled raw. his chest is tight. the oxygen cannula in his nose is some relief, but he'd blackmail somebody for a lozenge or warm water with an analgesic dissolved in it right now.

"are you awake, helix?" someone murmurs from the bedside.

helix licks his lips, tasting the medbay chap gel there, and opens his eyes, blinking blearily until obi-wan's face swims into focus. "sir," he tries to say, and his voice is such a ruin, his throat flares with such pain, that he shuts up immediately.

"no, shh, don't try to talk," obi-wan says quietly. "you don't have to talk. just rest. i'm sure needle or stitch will be over in a minute, they've been watching over you very carefully."

helix absolutely believes that. his heart twists. they're such good boys. they deserve better than this bullshit. there's enough going on without them having to manage their cmo, too.

obi-wan eyes him a moment. "i didn't know you were sick," he offers quietly. "and no -- that isn't a criticism. you're entitled to your privacy. i'll go if you prefer that i am not here, but i wanted to watch over you while you slept, at least for a little while."

helix could cry, and he almost too tired to stop up the impulse. almost. he points wearily at an insulated cup on the bedside table. it's full of ice chips, he knows. kenobi can stay if he pays his way in ice chips.

obi-wan cottons on in an instant and immediately fetches the cup and a spoon. he feeds helix an ice chip without another word.

the trickle of cold water hurts. then it feels wonderful.

needle is the first to arrive over, and his smile is warm and sweet, though there's stress in the pinch at the corners of his eyes, and in the careful way he checks helix's vitals and monitors and the tuck of his pillows.

"you can read the chart if you want details," he tells helix softly. "but it was close." he pauses significantly, and helix glances at kenobi and then nods at needle, wordlessly giving him clearance to keep going. "we cleared your throat and suctioned your lungs as much as we could, but the... symptoms have advanced to the point that surgery is the next step. and no, we have no idea if that would help or make things worse."

helix sure as hell doesn't think surgically scraping the plants out will fix him. he shakes his head gently and sets a hand at needle's cheek, all gratitude and apology.

“that's what we thought you'd say." needle cups his hand over helix's, and he's still smiling, but it's even more painful now. "we're not sure how many more episodes like that you can survive, helix. and even if you... get the treatment, we don't know if the damage will reverse fully. no one's ever gotten to this stage, that we know of."

helix nods and eats another ice chip when it's offered. he's been thinking about that, too. whether his body will heal as magically as it's destroying itself, if he confesses to mace. nobody can know what to expect.

"needle," obi-wan interjects quietly, "is it... the treatment, is it a matter of cost? availability? i can make sure you have access to any help the temple can provide. anything we can do."

helix reaches for obi-wan's hand and squeezes it, and needle shakes his head. "sorry, sir. that's not the problem. there's nothing you can do."

obi-wan eyes him shrewdly, fingers curled securely around helix's. "but there's something that can be done. yes?"

"yes, sir."

"who do i need to make pleasant or unpleasant overtures at, in that case?"

helix huffs a silent laugh. their general is truly one of the finest the temple has on offer. /windu,/ he signs succinctly. /need windu./

obi-wan does not ask why he needs mace. he simply procures him.

needle is off duty and asleep, obi-wan is long gone, and stitch is helping helix sip some more lozenge-water when mace arrives, not three hours later.

he's such a welcome and painful sight, helix feels his chest constricting. he swallows his water carefully and lifts a hand in wan greeting. (truly, he thinks morosely, he has never felt more attractive a prospect than he does right now.)

"obi-wan told me you asked for me," mace tells him, coming to the bedside, his expression all concern. "i didn't hear you had collapsed until a short while ago. will you be all right?"

helix can't speak, still. there's no amount of painkillers that can mend his raw throat enough to let him talk. he gives the signs for /red band triage/, which isn't the clearest answer but it's as close as he can get with battle sign.

"red," mace interprets. "critical but salvageable, given immediate treatment." off stitch's and helix's confirmation, he looks between the two of them seriously. "how can i help? obi-wan seemed to think the treatment is something you can't access by yourselves, but he didn't know any details."

helix pats stitch's chest gently and flashes him a couple of signs. stitch nods -- he's not always great with reading the nuance of battle signs when they're used in other contexts, but these he can read easily enough.

"it's very private, sir," stitch explains, his voice pitched low, for their ears only. "a secret. no one knows. this condition is rare, and as far as we know, helix is the only one with the predisposition to have survived this long, and this is the latest stage of acuity anyone's ever seen."

mace absorbs that and gives helix a Look. "there's such a thing as striving to be singular in too many areas, you realize."

helix grins at him. he wants to touch him. he holds the impulse back.

"i'll let helix tell you himself how, exactly, the condition manifests, if he chooses to do that," stitch continues soberly. "but it's serious, and he will die if he doesn't take the necessary action in time." his expression twists. "there's not much time left, as far as we can tell."

"i see." mace presses a hand to helix's arm, warm and grounding. "what can i do to help?"

helix looks up at him. little gods, mace is so handsome, and his dark eyes are endlessly deep, unfathomably sincere. the constriction in helix's chest winds tighter, and he gulps in a breath, signs quickly to stitch.

"you can listen, sir," stitch replies softly. his palm rests lightly on helix's brow for a moment. "i'll be nearby if you need me." and then he's gone, stepping away and twitching the privacy screen closed behind him.

they're quiet with each other a moment. helix isn't sure how to begin this conversation, especially since he can't actually fucking say most of what he wants to. he hesitates, picks at the blanket.

"it's been a while since we were alone together," mace remarks easily. "i haven't talked with you in person for weeks." he arches a brow. "would i have noticed you were sick, i wonder."

helix considers. /maybe,/ he signs. he's been in obi-wan's presence a couple of times since this bout started, but not since it got bad, and anyway, obi-wan's been slightly busy, himself. if he didn't notice, it wasn't for lack of care. mace might have picked up on something, but there's no way to know, now.

"it seems to have gotten serious fairly quickly, in any case." mace tips his head, presses his lips together slightly, as he does when he's working through strong emotions. "stitch said you needed me to listen, helix. i am listening."

this is it. after everything, it feels almost anticlimactic. and yet -- it's unbearably dramatic, with helix lying on his near-literal deathbed and reduced to using gods-damned battle signs to confess his adoration.

(why me, he laments internally, and not for the first time in his existence.)

/insufficient signs,/ he begins. /rig on the fly./

"you don't have the signs to say what you want to, but you'll figure out how to get your meaning across," mace interprets aloud.

/you know s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g signs?/

"yes, i know the sign alphabet."

/copy./ helix swallows, his throat feeling more raw than ever, if that's even possible. /you and i. take cover together. trench battle. review footage./

mace takes in the sequence and nods slowly, somberly. "you showed incredible conviction and kindness, in suffering through that for obi-wan."

/you had injury. you k-i-n-d. no success without you./

mace quirks the faintest smile. "far be it from me to argue while you haven't got your sharp tongue available in full. it seems unfair."

helix hopes his expression conveys something like "damn straight." /i have an urgent report,/ he signs, and it's so stupid, but he thinks mace will catch his meaning.

"you have something important to say," mace guesses. "to say to me, specifically?"

helix nods. his tongue feels dry, despite all of the ice chips and stitch's water.

he lifts his hand and spells, slow and clear.

/i l-o-v-e y-o-u/

he sees it, the exact moment the meaning becomes clear.

mace's eyes don't go round, he's far too controlled for that, but there's an opening-up in his expression, a glimpse of utter surprise.

"you love me," he echoes, so very softly. "i didn't misunderstand?"

/l-o-v-e./ and, because why not, helix taps his own chest twice, directly over his heart, and points to mace.

and something in his chest twists. helix gasps thickly, claws at the neck of his scrubs and digs his heels against the mattress. terror spirals through him -- is it killing him anyway, was he too late, is mace going to watch him die -- ?

the alarms are shrieking. there are hands on his arms, on his chest, on his face. mace is here, warm and steady. stitch has reappeared and is just as steady, in his own way -- grim and fast and going through the steps, a dance they both know like --

well. shit. they know it like breathing, don't they?

"sit him up," stitch orders sharply. "in case he has to cough it up."

they slide their hands behind his back, hoist him half upright, half leaning into the support. helix doesn't quite feel like coughing. his chest feels -- strange. not necessarily bad. but strange.

he swallows and realizes with a start that his throat doesn't hurt. the weight on his chest is sliding free, like someone's released a vice around his ribs.

"helix," stitch says imploringly, "cough if you need to. i'm right here. i'll help you get it out."

helix tentatively sips at the air, disbelieving. there's no pain. no threatening tickle in his throat, no sandbags in his lungs. he's still tired, and his head is spinning, but -- but --

he shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath, the kind he hasn't been able to draw for weeks.

stitch's hand does not leave his back, but the familiar sounds of a scanner start up. "oh," he says, shocked at whatever he sees.

mace's hands are here, too. one at helix's back, the other secure around his arm. "what is it?"

helix breathes in again and again, biting the inside of his lip and mashing down the urge to cry with relief. he opens his eyes and looks at stitch. "i'm fine?" he asks aloud. his voice is a little thready still, but he thinks that's just reaction, not damage.

stitch nods, huge-eyed. "the scan indicates no abnormalities. no blockage, no foreign mass."

helix smiles at him. he takes his face in his hands and leans to press a kiss to his forehead. "scram for a minute, i want to talk to mace. get needle, will you?"

stitch scrams, nearly tripping over himself on his way out.

mace's expression is bemused but soft when helix turns to him. "sorry about all of this," helix tells him first, reflexively. "i didn't mean to let it go so long."

"i believe you." mace curls a hand around helix's, gently, questioningly. "i have never quite felt anything like that in the force before. are you all right, really?"

helix grins at him and squeezes his hand. "i'm better than i've been in a while, mace. the boys will run tests to be sure, but i feel like it's receded completely. and the damage got undone, but don't ask me how the hells that happened."

"that question is maybe sixth on my list," mace says dryly. "i would rather ask you if you meant to tell me what you did, just now."

an easy question, in a way. helix looks at him squarely. "yes. i meant it." he feels his smile turn crooked. "i love you. i have for months, i think."

mace does not take his hand from helix's. he looks like he's listening to something far away. it's a very jedi look. "i won't do you the disservice of pretending i don't know what kind of love you mean."

"i appreciate that."

without so much as a blink, mace is back with him, right here, close and sturdy. he lifts his other hand and cups helix's cheek. "you must know that i have thought very highly of you since the beginning." there's something in his voice, a note of softness helix hasn't heard from him before. "i have cared for you for nearly as long. we were in the trench together, as you said. a bond not easily forgotten, even if i were of a mind to."

helix nods wordlessly. he realizes he's holding his breath and makes himself inhale. he doesn't know what answer to expect from mace, but whatever it is, it'll be kind. mace is kind.

mercifully, mace is also straightforward. "i think that, given room to grow, my regard for you will become love." he smiles, more a warm cast in his eyes than a curve of lips. "quickly."

helix covers his hand where it's fitted to his cheek. "what kind of fertilizer do you need?" he asks, a chuckle threatening for more than one reason.

END

[perseus-jackass]

Me when I remember Helix the 212th’s medic isn’t actually a real character, he’s someone’s OC that the fandom collectively adopted.

[deserthusbands]

cody: you're sick.

obi-wan, laying pathetically on the bed: no.

cody: you can't deny it this time.

obi-wan: mmf, yes i can.

cody: i will get helix.

obi-wan: no. :(

cody: you're sick.

obi-wan: i am not sick.

cody: i will take you myself—

[obes-kenobes-benos]

Helix: You know you can die from that, right? Cody: smoking a cigarette That’s the point. Obi-Wan: drinking alcohol We’re trying to speed this up. Wooley: Eating raw cookie dough and nodding

[jedi-enthusiast]

Coruscant:

Fox, bone-tired and slightly delirious: Sorry I missed my appointment. I've just been losing a lot of time lately, it's hard keeping the days straight.

Grim, eyebrow twitching: ...give me like five minutes.

-----

Somewhere else in the galaxy:

*Epi's comm beeps*

Epi: Hello?

Grim: Can I assassinate the Chancellor on the grounds of patient safety and wellbeing?

Epi: uhhh idk, I'll have to ask Helix.

...

Epi: Helix says yes.

Grim: Excellent.

-----

Back on Coruscant:

Palpatine: Why do I hear boss music?

[moxie-girl]

212th Mando'a name hcs!!

I've got a lot of names already figured out, so rn it's mostly a matter of organizing the ones I have and then working on the ones I don't...

same as all the others, color coding from green -> red matches how close the name is to a canon Mando'a word:

(also yes i know Helix is technically fanon but I hadddd to include him)

[merlyn-bane]

"Obi-Wan Kenobi has a trash immune system and is allergic to everything/sick all the time"

False! This is a lie fabricated by Captain Helix the clone medic (and enthusiastically endorsed by Chief Healer Che) as a convenient excuse to get people to leave his fuckin' general alone for five minutes sometimes. Obi-Wan is touched, except for that no-one will let him have nuts or seafood at parties anymore and the Chancellor keeps trying to feed him shrimp and pistachios for some reason.

[your-humble-host]

I forget sometimes that Star Wars fanfiction just makes up characters like especially for clone medics. Like Helix is present in like majority of people's 212th battalion fics that need a medic but he's only ever present in fanfiction. Someone just made him up. And we all rolled with it. The little shit might as well be canon with how many people know him.

[ketchup-monthly]

just a little something i did with the 212th and Rex using my lesbian!au clone designs

pic with identifiers under the cut!

[matchademi]

@starrrgazingbunny

It took Kix three weeks of begging Falls to join the next medic meeting before he finally agreed. Falls has always been a bit awkward and introverted especially after a few incidents where he has to deal with brothers talking crap about ship medics. But he knows Kix and Helix will be there and he knows the older medics will keep those conversations like that from happening. He did make Kix snag some chocolate for him as payment however.

Falls walks between Helix and Kix while walking to where the medics meet on Coruscant. He listens as the older medics talk crap about their superiors joining in a few times and laughing at others he fixes his cap making sure the patches in his hair are mostly covered. As they walk closer to the corrie guard medical halls he hears other medics talking. Walking into the room he stays behind Kix a bit. He knows he is the youngest medic here since he honestly shouldn't be off Kamino yet but the GARS need for troopers is getting desperate. He watches Helix wave at the others and Kix smiles at Falls as he go's to introduce him "we have a new person here! This is Falls a shiny in the 501st. He is a on ship medic but he is sharp and great at what he does" Falls feels his shoulder get shoved lightly pushing him forward. Falls flashes a small smile "I've heard a lot about all of you" he trys not to flinch at the eyes on him hiding his eyes a bit. He can feel the judgment from a couple of the older medics and he shouldn't be surprised at what was said but he still is. "A ship medic really? What's the point if you aren't on field, it's us that keeps brothers alive long enough to make it back and most of the time you guys undo all our work and brothers die. Also your a half baked cadet at best" Falls grits his teeth and he feels Kix is ready to punch someone before a quiet but powerful voice snaps "shut the hell up will you? If Kix says the kid is good he is, now shut up and play nice or get out of my wing". The other medic glares and walks out, Falls breaths out "thank you sir" he mumbles. The older medic grunts before nodding his head to the seat next to him "how old are ya kid you do seem rather young" Falls nervously sits down " I'm 9 so around 18 standard sir" he sees the lines around the other medic deepen in agitation "your just a kid. And your on the front" when we are done here I'm giving you a check up" Falls shakes his head "I've only ever seen active combat once sir I'm fine". The older medic levels a glare at him "that is a order rookie" Falls nods quickly "yes sir" the older medics chest rumbles in probably his version of a laugh "the names Patcher kid."

-

Months later on another leave the day before another meeting Falls walks to the corrie guard headquarters walking to the medical wing his head held high and walks into Patchers office only knocking once throwing a caffanated bar of chocolate on his desk before sitting down

- if Patcher is out of character I'm sorrry

"I have so much dirt on Kix and Helix" he smirks. The Chief Corrie medic raises a eyebrow "well spill Vod'ika" Falls grins and dives into the prank war that is happening between the 501st and the 212th, Falls in untouchable but he has holos of Kix and Helix covered in orange and blue glitter respectively. He hears the bearly there laughter of the other vod and hides a victory grin. Falls became practical pen pals with Patcher after their first meeting. He doesn't know much about the quieter medic but he if fine with that. He just happy he can call Patcher a friend

[vodika-vibes]

Stealing the Commander Part 2

Introducing Bug! Cody gets a medical exam and realizes that, while not good, his captors aren’t evil either.

Introducing the Feeorin, a race of people who’s homeworld was destroyed thousands of years before the Invasion of Naboo.

“How are you doing, darlin’?” Bug asked as he watched Fira pace from one side of his office to the other, like a caged Aak Dog. He knew that she hated this part of the week. And he knew that she came every week in spite of her hatred of it. He was proud of her. 

Fira scowled at him and continued her pacing. “He’s like me and I hate it.” She suddenly spat out.

Ah.

“Are you disappointed in the Republic?” Bug asked, leaning his weight against the wall as he watched her pace. As much as he wanted to offer her comfort, long experience taught him that she wouldn’t accept it.

She scoffed. “I’ve never had any faith in the republic, Bug.”

“Hm. Are you disappointed in him?”

Fira stilled and rage crossed her face, “I don’t care about him. We should just abandon him near the next Pubbie settlement and be done with this whole situation.”

And there it was.

“Is he undeserving of your specific brand of help?”

“He doesn’t want it!”

“Neither did I.” Bug pointed out, watching as all of the ire drained from Fira’s frame, “Neither did Camma, or Gray. You weren’t half so furious at us.”

“That-you-it’s different!”

“How?”

Fira was silent, but she also wasn’t pacing, which Bug counted as a win. “Look, darlin’, here’s how I see it. You’re mad, spitting mad, because you look at our new guest and it’s like holding up a mirror, right?”

“It’s not.”

“It is. It’s like you’re holding up a mirror and you’re seeing what could have been, had you not escaped Czerka, and it’s pissing you off.” Fira was very still, and was glaring at the wall, which meant he was safe to keep going, “You pity him, and that’s pissing you off too, because pitying him is like pitying yourself.”

“Stop.”

Bug immediately stopped talking and folded his arms across his chest. She allowed him to talk longer than he expected, he would take what he could get with her.

“I don’t. I don’t pity him.” Fira finally said, her voice quiet. “I don’t.”

“Alright darlin’, if you say so.” He might have pushed too hard, now he felt bad. He carefully walked over to her and placed his hand on her head, “Why don’t you go spend some time with Camma? She got a new coloring book she wanted to show off.”

“I need to-”

“You need to center yourself and settle yourself.” Bug interrupted, “Camma’s good for that.”

She stared at him, there was something slightly disjointed in her gaze. “We still have 15 minutes?”

“We do,” Bug lightly smoothed her hair, and placed his hands on her shoulders, “But you’re in a bad place right now, darlin’. You need to settle yourself before you hurt someone.”

He watched as a few more cracks appeared in her psyche, and he tightened his grip, “Go to Camma. Color with her. I have to go meet my new patient anyway.” Bug continued watching as Fira, resolutely, gathered herself. 

That, right there, was why Fira was in charge, even though she was the second youngest member of the crew. Because unlike anyone else, she knew how to pick up her own shattered pieces, and glue them back together. 

He pulled her into a loose hug, which she allowed for a few seconds, and then she slipped free and headed to the door, though she hesitated before she opened it. “If he needs anything, just...let me know, okay? I’ll make sure we get it.”

Bug smiled, “You always do.”

He watched as she left the room, and then he turned to his own tasks. He already had everything he needed in his bag to give a physical to a newly rescued slave, so he wasn’t worried about that. But he was well aware that this scenario was a little different than usual.

So he was careful to change out of the normal pirate get-up that he preferred and into the scrubs he wore when he needed to be more doctor and less pirate. And only then did he grab his bag and step out of his office and down the short hall that led him to the shielded room.

He wished that they didn’t have to use the shielded rooms, or that they could at least remove the bars. But he understood why they hadn’t. Likely the same reason that the previous owners installed them in the first place.

The man was younger than Bug anticipated. Probably around Fira’s age, biologically. Though he had heard rumors about enhanced aging. It was an interesting challenge, he would have to see if the young man would consent to having some blood drawn so he could run some tests.

He was wearing the clothes that Camma brought him, a simple t-shirt and some trousers, though he left the shoes against the wall. And, at the moment, he was lounging on the bed reading one of Fira’s mystery novels.

That genuinely amused him. Fira was possessive of those books, they were the first things she bought when she freed herself, and she barely let anyone touch them, and she just let this stranger borrow three of them?

And she said that she didn’t see herself in him. The little liar.

Bug cleared his throat, and waited for the young man to focus his attention on him. The young man, Fira murmured that he had given her a number when she asked for a name, sat up and he scanned Bug through serious golden eyes, his gaze darting from the scrubs, to the bag at his side, and then to his face.

His expression became very guarded, very quickly. Medical Abuse, then. Bug had seen a lot of it over his 150 years of life. “My name,” He said, his voice low and soothing, “Is Bug, are you enjoying the book?”

He paused, and then nodded, “It’s well written, and interesting.” He admitted, “Camma brought me the first three in the series.” He paused, “Are they yours?”

“Oh, no. Hate mystery stories, I just get frustrated.” Bug replied, carefully setting his bag on a crate and leaning against the wall, “They’re Fira’s. They’re the first thing she bought when she was freed.”

He glanced at the books, “Well then, I’ll be gentle with them.” He set the books to the side, and focused his attention on Bug, “So, why are you here?”

“I am the ship doctor, and I am here to make sure that you are in good health, as well as determine if you have a slave chip located in your body. And then we can discuss it’s removal.”

*******

Cody blinked at him, startled. “You think-? I don’t have a slave chip!” He didn’t. He would know. Alpha-17 would have told them.

Bug, the Doctor, stared at him unblinkingly, “Then it will be a simple exam.” Though he didn’t make any move to enter the cell. “Do you have any questions for me, before we begin?”

Yeah. Like a million. Though-

“...Why keep me in a cell if you want to free me?”

“Ah. Fira didn’t explain this to you then,” Bug nodded, “This part of the ship is heavily shielded” He explained, “So heavily shielded that explosive chips won’t explode, regardless of how far away a slave gets from their owner.”

Oh. That made sense, actually.

“And the bars?” he asked as he kicked one of the bars.

Bug regarded him calmly, “Sometimes, a slave isn’t happy to be taken from their owners. The bars are for our protection, and your own.”

That also made sense, damn it.

“Any other questions?”

“If you don’t find a chip, will you let me go?” Cody asked.

Bug tilted his head, and Cody seriously wondered what race he was, because he was clearly not Nautolan, “Are you so eager to return to the Republics Slave Army?”

No, actually. He wasn’t. But he did want to return to his brothers.

“That slave army,” Cody said scathingly, “Is made up of my brothers.”

“Ah. So that’s how you view each other, my apologies.” Bug said lightly, “I will ensure that everyone on the ship knows that.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cody said after a moment.

“No. I didn’t.” Bug agreed, “Let’s see if you even have a chip before we decide on what to do after, yes? Is there a name you would like me to call you?”

“CC-2224.”

“...Lad. No one on this ship is going to call you by a number.” Bug said quietly, “Not anymore than they would call me by mine, or Fira by hers.”

Right. Former slaves. Now he felt a little guilty.

“Is Bug your real name?”

He smiled, “I chose it. The only people on this ship who have the names their parents gave them are Juffo and Gray. Juffo was an adult when he was sold into slavery by some Trandoshans, and Gray was sold by his parents.”

“Huh.” They were more like him and his brothers than he thought.

“Of course, unlike Fira and Camma, I actually do know my birth name.” Bug admitted, “I was a jedi once, you see.”

Cody jerked, stunned, “What?”

“Oh, yes. Through Coruscant. Mind you, this was well over a century ago.” Bug said easily, “I was quick to anger, and the temple decided that I was not proper jedi material. So they shipped me to the Agricorps. That did absolutely nothing to help my anger issues.”

Cody stared at him, stunned. “How-Jedi to Pirate is quite the career jump.”

“I didn’t want to be a farmer. I hated every day. I tried to run away daily. Eventually I was caught by slavers and sold. My first owner,” His lips curled at the word, “Decided that I would make a fair doctor, so I was pushed into medical school. Once I finished medical school, I was worth much, much more. Fira freed me several years ago.”

“So, why Bug?”

“Why not?”

That’s fair, Cody decided.

“Cody.” He finally said, after thinking about it, “My name. It’s Cody.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cody.” Bug said, “Will you consent to a medical exam?”

“...yes. Fine.”

Bug nodded and the bars slid open, allowing Cody out of the cell. “We can either do the examination with you standing, or you can sit on the crate.” Bug explained, nodding to a second crate.

“Standing is fine,”

Bug nodded, and pulled out a scanner, “This is a basic scanner. It’s going to check you for broken bones, torn muscles, and will also determine your height and weight. Hold still please.”

The scanner lit up, and Cody grimaced when the green light washed over him for 30 whole seconds. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it didn’t feel like much of anything, but he hated medical exams.

“Hm. No broken bones. Or torn muscles,” Bug said, looking at a screen, “You are underweight for your height, I’ll make a note for you to get extra food when your meals are delivered. Other than that, you’re pretty healthy.”

“Are you sure I’m underweight?” Cody asked with a frown, “All of my brothers are the same-”

“Then you’re all underweight. Not by a lot, but you are.” Bug tapped the side of his datapad, “My guess, you’re using more calories than you’re getting. You’re young, and a soldier, so you need more calories.”

Bug flickered his gaze back at his datapad, “Alright, next is determining if you have a slave chip, and if you do have one, where it’s located.”

“I’m telling you I don’t,” Cody said with a sigh.

“And I want to know for sure,” Bug countered, “I have two scanners. The first one will ping if you have a chip. The second one will only need to be used if the first one pings.”

“Fine.”

“Alright. I’ll activate the scanner now.” The scanner was silent for a moment, and Cody was about to tell the doctor that he told him so, and then it pinged. Loudly. Three times. “Ah. It appears that you do have a chip.”

Cody stared at the scanner, shocked. “I...maybe it’s malfunctioning?”

Bug shot him a sympathetic look, “Let’s see if we can find it.” He pulled the second device out of his bag, and attached it to a datapad, which he set up so both he, and Cody, could see. “I’ll start by scanning the most common locations to put slave chips,”

“Common?”

“Arms, legs.” Bug said absently, “If it’s not in those locations, then I’ll move to more uncommon locations, abdomen, spine, groin, neck, head.”

“Why are those uncommon locations?” Cody asked, not sure he actually wanted to know.

“You only put a slave chip in one of those places if you want them dead, rather than free.” Bug explained.

Cody felt a sinking sensation in his gut, “You should start with the uncommon locations.” He said, numbly.

Bug paused and lifted his head to regard Cody curiously. “Alright. I will.” He replied, and then he focused his attention back on the scanner.

Cody watched, his heart in his stomach, as Bug scanned his abdomen and groin, and found nothing. And then he scanned up his spine, and found nothing. Cody knew halfway through the scan, that if he had a chip, it was located in his head.

And then, as Bug brought the scanner to Cody’s right temple, the datapad lit up, revealing a small chip, the size of a computer chip, located in his brain. Or on his brain.

At that point it didn’t matter. Because he has a chip in his brain.

Cody stared at the datapad, feeling like he was going to throw up. And then he realized that he couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was a massive weight on his chest- and he couldn’t breathe.

“Easy there, Lad.” Bug gripped him by the shoulder, and immediately placed Cody’s hand on his chest, “Breathe with me, Cody. Come on. In...out...” Bug took large, exaggerated, breaths, and he continued it until some of the color returned to Cody’s face, and he was breathing a bit more normally, “There we go, lad.”

“Get it out. I want it out!” Cody was still panicked, with good reason.

Bug hesitated, “I’m very good, Cody. But I cannot preform brain surgery.”

Cody wilted. He was absolutely crushed. He didn’t want to live the rest of his shortened life with a chip in his brain.

“But, don’t give up just yet. I need to make a call. You just sit down and breathe.”

*******

“-an’ this is Boberta,” Camma said, as she held up one of the many dolls that the crew had acquired for her since she joined them, “She’s a Princess Archeologist.”

“A Princess Archeologist, huh.” Fira mused, as she took the little Miralian doll, and looked her over, “I bet she’s super smart.”

“Yeah! The smartest!” Camma took the doll back and carefully set her at the little table, “She’s one of a whole set!”

“Is she? Well, maybe for your nameday we’ll get you the rest,” Fira offered.

Camma gasped in sheer delight, “Yay!”

Fira paused, as she comm blinked to life, “I have to take this, have fun playing pretend.” She said, glancing over to Gray, who was solemnly wearing a pink boa and a matching plastic crown.

Gray glared at her, subtly enough that Camma didn’t notice, and then he focused his attention back on the child who had just offered him some fake tea.

Fira grinned and slipped out of the room, taking the time to make sure that the door was shut, before she answered her comm, “What’s up Bug?”

“I need you to come to the shielded room. Now.” And then he hung up before she could respond.

Fira sighed, he always did that when it was important. She was beginning to think that he just hated technology. But, well, he sounded stressed, which meant he was probably going to be making an ask.

She quickly headed to the shielded room, using her key card to unlock the door, and stepping in, before she shut it again. “What’s wrong Bug?” Their guest was sitting on a crate, his face in his hands. That...didn’t bode well.

“See for yourself,” Bug replied, as he handed her a datapad.

Fira rose a single brow, and then looked at the images on the screen. It took her a few moments to comprehend what she was looking at, as she wasn’t a medic, but-

“Is that a slave chip located in his brain?” That was sickening. How would that even work? Unless it had been implanted when he was an infant...

“It is,” Bug said quietly, “It appears to be located on the brain, rather than in the brain, but-”

“But you still can’t do brain surgery.” Fira finished, she handed the datapad back to him, “What do you need?”

“A medical droid, specifically one that can preform brain surgeries.” Bug said immediately.

“So a Surgical Droid,” Fira murmured, her mind already racing for the various locations she could get one of those on the Outer Rim. Easy answer was to steal one from the Hutts, “What else?”

Bug paused, and glanced at their guest, and he waited.

“A message.” He lifted his head and stared at Fira, “I want to send a message to my brothers, telling them about the chips.”

Fira paused, and glanced at Bug, “Cody is already aware that we won’t be sending this message from the ship.” He explained.

Huh. His name was Cody. Good to know.

“Write a message with Bug, along with whatever, medically relevant, information you think he’ll need, Bug. I’ll send the message when I go to collect the surgical droid.” Fira finally said with a sigh.

Cody stared at her, “You’re really going to send it?”

“Well, yeah.” Fira shrugged awkwardly, “My goal is to free all slaves, not just some of us.”

“I’m not-” Cody paused, and his fingers brushed his temple. Fira guessed that the chip was located in that area, “Where are you going to get a surgical droid anyway?” He said instead.

“The Hutts,”

“They’re not going to sell a surgical droid to you,” Cody said flatly.

Fira flashed a sharp grin, “Well now. Who said anything about buying it, darling?”

He gaped at her, and then sighed, “I can’t believe that I’m trusting myself, and my brothers, to pirates.”

And then he paused, and tangled his fingers in his short hair, “Thank you. For letting me borrow your books. And for, you know, helping.”

“Oh. You’re welcome?” She replied, awkwardly.

Bug snickered, “Adorable,”

Fira shot him a dirty look, “Don’t you have work to do?”

At that, Bug just laughed, “Come here, Cody. Let’s put your message together.”

******

Half a galaxy away, Clone Medic Helix was sitting in his office, alone, while nursing a bottle of illegal moonshine.

Cody, his Commander, his ori’vod, has been missing for over a week. And there has been no ransom demands, nor any sign of the ship that took him. (He wasn’t dumb, he knew the Republic would replace Cody before they paid a ransom, but he could hope.)

The ship was quiet. Quieter. The vod’e were mourning. They knew the reality of the situation. After a week, Cody was probably dead. 

Tears burned in his eyes. And Helix pretended that the tears were caused by the awful alcohol he was drinking rather than his grief.

General Kenobi already reached out to the Jedi Council, they were sending a replacement Commander to the Negotiator already. The fact that they were sending Marshal Commander Fox to replace Cody felt like a slap in the face.

It wasn’t Fox’s decision, of course. None of the vod’e would begrudge him his place on the Negotiator. But there was more than a little resentment growing for General Kenobi.

They could be good soldiers. They could follow orders and work together with him. But the trust had been broken. General Kenobi hadn’t even waited a week before Cody going missing and reporting the abduction.

Helix downed another mouthful of the moonshine, grimacing at the burn.

His datapad beeped once. He ignored it.

And then it beep a second time, and he sighed and grabbed it. He turned his bleary gaze to the notification at the top of the screen.

Two new messages.

Helix sighed, and opened the first message.

I’m still alive, vod. Stop moping.

I’m actually being treated well, all things considered. I can’t tell you where I am, largely because by the time you receive this, I’ll be somewhere else entirely, but I promise that I’m fine. The doctor on the ship I’m on has been bitching at me for not eating properly, you’d probably like him.

The Captain is a bitch, and I mean that in the best way possible. She has a goal, and she won’t let anything as unimportant as a little intergalactic war stand in her way. I like her. Sometimes. Or I would if she hadn’t kidnapped me.

Listen, Helix. Attached to this message is some medical information. Look it over, and do what you can about it. Make sure the other medics get the same information.

Cody

Helix’s breath caught in his throat. Cody was alive. Cody was alive and he was being treated well. That was...well. That was much better than he feared. 

He opened the second message, and started reading. His blood ran cold. And then he scrolled back to the top and started reading again. He scrolled through pages of medical scans, deep brain scans, and a document listing the best, possible, way to remove the slave chip without causing irreparable harm.

Helix copied the medical information, and he forwarded the information to every single clone medic he knew. And then he set the datapad on his desk.

Did he trust the information? Yes. But he was going to verify it himself as soon as he could.

The bigger question was, did the Jedi know? The Helix of two weeks ago would have said no. Of course not. But the Helix of now-

Well. He had little trust for the Jedi as a whole, at the moment. The information would remain with the clones, and no one else. He was worried about Cody, but the information from the doctor on the ship Cody was on had been very thorough. 

Plus, there had been a note at the bottom about a ‘Firebrand’ acquiring a surgical droid for Cody. Helix closed his eyes, his ori’vod would be fine. He had to believe that, even if he wasn’t sure it was true.

He needed to sober up, and then do some of his own research. There was no way in hell he was going to allow a single brother to have a slave chip anywhere in their bodies. But least of all their brains.

[grand-army-radio]

Here’s a song for all the medics!

[rebecca-lotto]

i may not have a clue on what helix looks like but i got vibes

yes he does qualify for a membership to the obi wan kenobi hater club™ , but he's also one of the biggest codywan shippers

the medics all have a group chat where helix regularly updates everyone on the latest drama between cody & obi wan

he learnt through trial and error that 1 : Obi wan doesn't bust out of the medbay when cody's there , and 2, watching those 2 argue like an old married couple is excellent entertainment and the cody blackmail material is helpful too.

nobody knows what this bitch's natural hair color is ; when you first meet him on the job he's blonde like rex , but a few months later on shore leave his hair is now a florescent pink .

many have tried to mind trick the answer out of him , they all failed. this has lead to rumors about him being force sensitive.

(plo koon could weasel a straight answer out of helix, provided he uses his disappointed dad ™ voice while doing the trick)

helix , being the biggest gossip of the medics find that rumor hilarious.

[thatgreyjedi]

Drawing clones… again