#triage trooper

[cowardlysimon]

I love my son

His name is Testicle, or Mr. Testicles or Testicle Trooper. His birth name is Triage Trooper, though. I almost thought Dr. Doom killed him, but he's okay :D

I love my son so much.

[upthach]

oct 30

[bentleydings]

Fortnite Zeus and Triage Trooper

oh dear heavens~

[thegreygamer]

Some gay people I drew. Most of these were not used for the roleplay, but the one with Zeus in the suit was used.

btw these are HC fortnite characters not like the actual ones

[fortnite-headcanons]

remedy as a hirable npc just happens to be replaced by hireable traige trooper npc in the next season, who does the exact same thing, standing in the exact same place? i dont think its replacement!! i think remedy went on HRT and became a guy. proud of him live your life trooper <3

Fortnite Headcanon #476

[zeldurz-art]

More clone OCs, chibi edition

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury

“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 

“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 

2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 

soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.

“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.

your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 

the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.

“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.

first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.

“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.

“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.

“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.

“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  

megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.

 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.

“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  

“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”

the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.

“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.

you nod. “i’m sorry.”

“toji,” he mumbles.

“i’m sorry, toji.”

it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 

“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 

“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”

“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.

“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.

the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.

“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 

pretty huh? you could get used to that.

“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 

[izzystizzys]

the thing about being the highest-ranked and most-decorated officer in any GAR/Guard capacity, fox thinks, is that unsurprisingly nobody could give less of a shit or listen to anything he says. it’s not like he earned those medals and recognitions and perfect test scores or anything, now is it, kote?

or, after the zillo beast disaster, the coruscant guard medbay just so happens to be much closer than the GAR one, and surprise surprise, senators don’t want meatdroids to be treated in their facilities after they’ve just protected them with their lives. fox tries to reason against this. fox is unsuccessful, because no one listens to fox.

which is how he finds himself crammed into a corner along with cody, ponds, bly, rex and their jedi, looking out across a medbay which is quite frankly a goddamn disaster rivalling the fight with the zillo beast in proportions. skywalker tries to step out towards one of the medics, and has to be pulled back by the collar of his shirt by amidala, squawking loudly when he’s nearly rammed over by mauler, crucifix and a shrilly screaming crash cart.

it’s not like fox said this would be a bad idea or anything.

“um, vod”, cody begins, unsure, “what’s - is that guy sewing wooley up with thread?!”

meathook, who is in fact sewing wooley up with thread, and looks about as happy about it as his patient, and who fox honestly thought was going to cry when he announced the influx of patients about to descend on them, snaps something about triage over his shoulder at hound, whose arm is decidedly bent in a way it shouldn’t be, jerking his head to gesture at the rickety cot next to cody’s ARC. fox is pretty sure they salvaged the thing from a dumpster. he slaps a bandage on the stitches that fox fears might be from the same dumpster.

“putting those advanced reconnaissance training skills to use, kote”, says fox, who invariably turns into the worst possible version of himself whenever cody opens his mouth within a klick of his vicinity.

skywalker harrumphs, evidently at the end of his impressive patience. “well, why?! hey, trooper! these men need bacta!”

“do they, now? i’m sorry, i hadn’t noticed”, a low voice hisses angrily behind them, and fox is the only one who doesn’t jump on account of he’s too dead inside to be scared of his CMO anymore. a grave error, he’s sure. “i guess i’ll just go pull some out of my ass along with a tank and painkillers, then! hadn’t thought of that yet!”

warcrime, whose eye is twitching and who is holding a bloody saw in visible consideration of using it, pins skywalker with a look that has had shinies all over the guard peeing themselves. “we don’t have any fucking bacta, you absolute numbskull.”

“but that can’t be right”, cody pipes up again, next to a very troubled looking generals kenobi and windu. fox sympathises very much with the patented migraine-glare on windu’s face. “why do you not have any bacta?”

“because i like to smear meiloorun juice all over my patient’s stab wounds, commander”, warcrime says. “it’s a homeopathic medicine thing. because the chancellor refuses to give us any, genius.”

“what?!” skywalker says, bristling. “that can’t be true! he wouldn’t -“ he’s cut off by his comm pinging loudly over the moaning and crying in the medbay, and warcrime leaning close enough to be heard with a whisper.

“well, he would, and if you don’t believe me, there’s a holorecording of him telling marshal commander fox why biological weapons on the homefront have lower priority and therefore half rations of everything. now get out of my medbay or find out why they named me warcrime, sir.”

amidala, the collective braincell holder for both her husband and the senate combined (on occasion), tugs him out of the way of warcrime’s bonesaw and ire. fox, who very much enjoys not being the primary target of a medic for once, unfortunately also has to be the adult in the room. “sirs, a transfer to the GAR barracks medbay might be a preferable- AH, MOTHERFU-“

“get him, stabby!”, rabid whoops from where he’s resetting thire’s nose, who echoes a much more nasal and muffled, “go, ftabby!”

“get kriffing FUCKED, stabby, you absolute-“, fox seethes, trying to swipe for the medic’s head and nearly planting one on cody instead by accident, who unfortunately manages to evade the swing fox is admittedly projecting very obviously on account of the sedation hypo jammed into his flank.

“medbay rules, sir”, stabby calls, dancing away towards mauler and his crash cart, while someone bumps something solid and flat against the backs of fox’s thighs that he can’t help but tumble back on, already seeing two codys and blys dancing around his vision. “commander fox protocol dictates he is to be helped to sleep as often as possible, sir.”

“a desperate but well-founded measure, i’m sure”, kenobi of all people agrees, and fox waves an unsteady hand in what might be the general’s direction to the sound of cody’s scandalized gasp. “as you were, officer… stabby.”

“traitors”, fox slurs, just as his com-unit begins to ping with an urgent notification. before he can try and answer it, warcrime has ripped it off his arm and flung it somewhere out of his sight. eh, it probably wasn’t anything THAT important, fox thinks. and if he wakes up two days later to a near-hysteric meathook kissing the glass casing of the guard’s brand new bacta tank over and over again, he decides to just roll over and go back to sleep.

[novafire-is-thinking]

“Swiftly! Before the Autobots arrive.”

All but one Vehicon trooper remains standing when Starscream turns to Soundwave and tells him they need to hurry. They both know mere Vehicons are no match for the Wrecker. Like Bulkhead says, “This is Wheeljack we’re talkin’ about.”

By the time the Autobots show up, not only has Wheeljack been subdued and removed from the scene, but Makeshift is in position too.

That was one very quick switch.

No one else besides Soundwave could have ambushed and subdued Wheeljack so quickly before the Autobots arrived.

This makes their confrontation in “Triage” more of a rematch:

First, Wheeljack goes against Ratchet’s wishes and wastes valuable time to chase and shoot down Laserbeak. Then, without hesitation, he goes after Soundwave alone. Wheeljack is petty; he’s not one to pass up a chance to get even with an enemy.

Even so, Soundwave still comes out on top:

Soundwave: 2

Wheeljack: 0

[cienie-isengardu]

Cienie's Star Wars sidenotes

While doing research and writing down the last pieces of Funeral Rites of the Clone Troopers, it became even more clear how The Clone Wars animated TV series did a great disservice to Jedi, especially in the context of medical care for clones.

TCW has clone medics, both as part of combat units (e.g. Kix from 501st Legion) and working apparently in the medcentre as sometimes was presented on the screen.

The role of doctors treating wounded troopers was given to Kaminoans (Nala Se) and droids and sure, those two groups were part of the whole GAR’s medical system in the Legends too. However Jedi Healers (doctors), as far as I remember, were seen treating mainly other Jedi like Yoda

and even then TCW barely paid attention to force healing as an important skill. 

The research about medical care for clones gives a pretty drastic idea of what was happening during and after battle which is understandable why the show destined for younger viewers didn’t go into full details about triage of wounded but considering how many dark themes were put in the same show, I dare to say not showing medical care provided by Jedi or common Republic doctors and nurses (who btw are a rare example of republic citizens conscripted into army during the war) actually is unfair. The show reduced one very important aspect of Jedi - they weren’t just generals and commanders either sending or leading troops into battle, they also provided medical help, whether they were specifically trained at healing or not. 

In Legends, we could see Jedi Healers assisting the army on various occassions, working in triage area like in Republic comics series:

The triage unit, where Jedi healers labor to save the lives of the wounded, was set up safely behind the line of battle. But as the fortunes of war shift, so do the battlelines.

and worrying first about wounded even in the face of serious danger

Master Saa! We’re cut off! There’s no way to get the wounded out!

and searching for survivors

Master Saa is hurt! She pulled the trees on top of us for protection...

and working in hospitals

Follow me Skywalker. We have much healing to do. The Jedi sickbay, where we treat the most severe injuries. And our own, of course. Master Offee has saved countless lives. She seldom leaves her post to rest. But we all work long hours.

Not to mention the whole Medstar duology dedicated to padawan Bariss Offee, doctors and nurses serving in Republic mobile hospitals close to frontine - and yes, forever I’m gonna be bitter about how TCW/New Canon treated the most iconic Jedi Healer.

(The cover art for Medstar: Jedi Healer by Dave Seeley)

When padawan Skywalker arrived at New Holstice with his troops, he was immedialy called to assist in the nearest sickbay

“Are you injured, master Jedi?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good. You can make yourself useful by heading to the nearest sickbay. We need all the Jedi healers we can get...”

and for context, this is Anakin two days after after Jabiim, one of the worst war campaigns Republic experienced so far, the solely survivor of Jedi Pack traumatized both by the loss of his comrades and what happened on the planet and forced to make a devastating choice is literally told to get at work ASAP because every Jedi in between assignment was working here hard to heal the most wounded..

Though no healer himself, Anakin even force-healed injured trooper on battlefield to stop him going into shock:

Supporting the commando trooper with his left arm, Anakin warded off blaster bolts on the run. The rest of Squad Seven supplied cover, blowing STAPs out the sky with uninterrupted fire. Cody motioned everyone into a shallow irrigation trench just short of the mound. By the time Obi-Wan arrived, the troopers were deployed in a circle, and continuing to pour fire into the sky. Anakin slid into the trench a moment later, lowering the commando gently to the muddy slope. Squad Seven’s medical specialist crawled over, removing the commando’s ravaged utility belt and deeply dented helmet.  [...]

The harvester’s pincers had crushed the armor into the commando’s abdomen. His skin was intact, but the bruising was severe. With only half the original army of 1.2 million in fighting shape, the life of every clone was vital. Blood and replacement organs - - what the regular troopers referred to as “spare parts” - - were readily available - - “easily requisitioned” - - but with the war reaching a crescendo, battlefield casualties were on the rise and treated as high priority.

“Not much I can do for him here,” the medspec told Anakin. “Maybe if we can get an FX-Seven air-dropped - - ”

“We don’t need a droid,” Anakin interrupted. Kneeling, he placed his hands on the injured commando’s abdomen and used a Jedi healing technique to keep the clone from going into deep shock. [Labyrinth Of Evil]

(and included request for evacuation of the wounded trooper when Cody called for artillery support)

In Republic comics series alone we could see Jedi showing concern for the wounded troopers at various moments, putting their well-being as priority:

or helping (healing) wounded enemies:

And I won't lie, it is frustrating how Legends, especially Republic comics series that had around 40 issues put so much pressure on Jedi Force healing and how Jedi care for wounded troopers while The Clone Wars (New Canon) that lasted for decade or so kinda ignored the issue? Which is unfair to Jedi and clones alike. The first are presented as less caring, at times indifferent? the latter deserved to have all the available medical help, not just Kaminoans and droids.

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.1 (Fives x Reader)

As promised! Fives x reader! This one is gonna be more angst, so heads-up. This takes place pretty much directly after Darkness on Umbara, anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Epilogue

Mesh'la

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, mentions of Umbara Arc, mentions of Pong Krell, Crying, Grief, details of severe injuries, Fives crying is his own warning, Hospital setting, medical talk, angst, swearing, brief interaction of 501st doctor

Minors DNI!

I found an anomaly.

That was the holo-message your friend and colleague sent you with no context. The network of medical personnel in the GAR would often get vague messages from the 501st field surgeon. At this point, you were used to that medic sending incomprehensible half sentences and unexplained data. 

Nonsense was standard with the 501st soldiers. Their doctor was no different.

You’d know. You were in a relationship with an ARC trooper that originated in the 501st. 

Oh Fives…

His own messages were concerning. Apparently Umbara was a disaster. One of the Jedi Generals had turned out to be a traitor, killing so many of the 501st they lost one third of their numbers.

You weren’t in the army, so you didn’t work with the Jedi very much. You were a medical practitioner assisting a neurologist in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. Since the war began you tried to shift your focus to tend to wounded military personnel, but your time was limited due to your other obligation. 

You were on the Ethics Committee that often bounced between Kamino and Coruscant. It was established shortly after the war began, and the clones became known to the Jedi. General Shaak Ti had established the committee, hand selecting doctors, nurses and scientists to make sure clone testing was safe and ethical.

Your supervisor was chosen and she had opted for you to represent her. Something you thanked her for some days, and hated her for other days.

Your thoughts were interrupted, the 501st doctor sent another message. This one was the context you were looking for. 

Used Umbaran scanner. Found something strange in every clone's brain.

What?

How could an Umbaran scanner find something nothing at the GRMF had seen before? 

Attached to the message were scans. Images of clone heads, giving an internal view of the neural activity. You had to admit, that scanner was thorough. You could see the different levels of neurotransmitters. Levels of sleep. Levels of stress. Even going so far to tell neuro-response time.

It was fascinating. Despite being clones, all of them had different reads. They were all unique, with their own different personalities and individuality. 

One of the scans, Hardcase, had an overactive prefrontal cortex. Must be a hyperactive clone.

Another one, Jesse, had activation in the midbrain and nucleus accumbens. He must have been focusing on something when the scan was taken.

Curiously, one scan, Dogma, had readings of heightened anxiety.

However, despite these differences, there was one repeating feature. 

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

It looked like a tumor of some type. Or a lesion. Was it a clone thing?

There was a scan of Fives and you checked his status. He too had that unknown abnormality. 

Questions ran through your mind. What was this? Was this benign? Did this have the potential to cause problems later? Was this tied to the clones' genetic data?

You continued to stare at the holo-message and scans. Another one popped up, this one from the director of the medical facility, followed by an announcement.

Code Green. External Triage. 501st. 212th. 7th Sky.

That's…a lot more than normal. Those were the battalions returning from Umbara. Taking that planet must’ve been chaotic, more so than what Fives had told you. 

You drank the last of your caf and stood from your desk. 

You had work to do.

Your steps through the metal, sterile halls were quick as you met several of your fellow doctors on the landing pad. Already ships were dropping off the injured that survived Umbara.

“Fly solo.” Your supervisor nodded as she handed you a datapad with patient information. Without another word, she rushed out to the ships as they unloaded patients.

With a breath, you focused. 

Designation: CT-9821 “Rusty”

Assignment: 501st Legion

Information: Scans indicated broken ribs and full body burns.

You typed quickly, getting Rusty handled as swiftly as you could. Luckily, the GRMF had a system in place. Once you typed a command, the medical droids would follow through with the treatment.

Treatment: Stabilize ribs, treat burns with bacta tank. Will reassess after 12 hours.

You looked up, seeing the 501st field surgeon on top of another soldier being carried on a stretcher. Their hands were on the trooper's chest, bleeding profusely. The doctor looked at you, “He ripped out his own sutures!” 

“On it!” You nodded, getting to the hover stretcher and leading them inside and to a trauma room to properly suture, disinfect and deal with the wound. You needed to get the bleeding under control, that was priority. Once you began, you looked to the 501st doctor again, “You did your job and you did it well. Wash your hands and get some caf.”

The purpose of the medics and field surgeons in the army was to keep the men alive until they could get more surgical and intensive care such as on their venator ship. But with high numbers after every battle, especially now, those medical bays could only do so much. 

Which is when you and the medical facility would be the final destination. The priority was to save the lives that managed to hold on that long with such limited care. From there, once they were under proper life saving measures, everyone else would be cared for with better medical supplies. Wounds treated on the field would be double checked, infections would be treated, and bandages would be changed.

The doctor shook their head, heading back out to help their men. Someone else in the GRMF would grab them and force them to sit down. As you didn’t miss their bandaged and braced arm.

Damn workaholic, you thought, though, truthfully, you’d probably be the same if you were in their shoes. You might even be worse off, since you didn’t have the mental strength to be on the field like them.

No, you always struggled if you lost a patient. Having someone die under your care always left a permanent scar.

Once the clone was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you gave the suture work to one of the medical droids. You had other patients, and frankly, the droids could be more precise in their stitches.

You got back out, and checked another soldier.

Designation: ARF-5798 “Ink”

Assignment: 501st Legion

Information: Burst fracture of T7 through T11, broken left femur, shattered right ilium

By all the gods in the galaxy, what the hell happened on Umbara?!

Treatment: Intensive care ASAP, immediate surgery to correct spinal cord, pain management, will assess nerve damage when stabilized

With 3 battalions, all injured to some degree, the medical facility was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

Your focus went razor sharp. All you knew now were the injured who needed help. You weren’t a soldier but this was your battlefield.

It was hours later when the hospital gave the announcement.

Code Clear. Resume normal duties.

The medical facility gave a heavy sigh in relief. You looked at the datapad in your hands as you walked through the hall, so far, none of the records have been updated with deaths. Either everyone critical managed to pull through, or no one had filled in the data yet…

You hoped for the former. 

“Mesh’la…” You whirled around at the sound of a trembling voice, nearly dropping your datapad. 

Fives was standing in the hallway, helmet off and looking so…so broken. 

He had always been an emotional trooper, and he didn’t hide it. Something you adored about him. And right now, he was on the verge of a breakdown. 

You looked around quickly before getting to his side and grabbing his hand. Wordlessly, you took him into one of the medical facility supply rooms and locked the door. 

“Oh Fives…” you held his face in your hands, looking into his tear filled eyes, “It’s alright now, Fives…” 

He shook his head, letting his tears fall, “so many of us…gone…” 

Immediately you wrapped your arms around him, shushing him softly. 

Fives’ armored hands gripped the back of your lab coat tightly as he sobbed. You shifted, resting his head against your shoulder to let him cry out his emotions. You swayed slightly in hopes to calm him. Your lover was in a fragile state, and he needed someone to help him out of it….

“Fives…” You murmured his name softly, “You’re safe now, ok?”

“N-no…Hardcase…My plan had-” He choked out, falling into more weeping. Your lover was incomprehensible. 

Hardcase…a trooper most likely. A friend that he hasn’t mentioned?

“Fives…?” 

“He nearly executed me!” He jerked back, holding your arms. His tan cheeks were marked with heavy tears, and his eyes were bloodshot, “Krell betrayed us and he was the one who ordered me and Jesse to be executed!”

The horror was clear on your face, “Fives…” You held his face again, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears, “What happened on Umbara? Talk to me, breathe and talk to me…”  He stared at you and, through his tears, told you everything.

[cowardlysimon]

Some more art of my son!!

And a cowboy Vinderman:)

[snowywinterevenings]

:D Force Exhaustion Snippet if you would be so kind?

--picktheonesthatlast

@brokenphoenix99 also requested a snippet of this one!

This is another tumblr prompt, and I’ve toyed with two different ideas, one where Codywan and their men are trapped in a cave in which Obi-Wan is keeping from crushing them and one where they survive a very ugly battle and Obi-Wan helps keep troopers alive as best he can until he is too exhausted to move. Honestly it may end up two fics because I really like both ideas.

Cody watches the General, his eyes tracking the deep rise and fall of his chest and occasionally sliding to the blood smeared over his face and in his beard. Triage had tried to treat the injury, but the General had given a small shake of his head and dismissed him, telling him it would be too distracting, and as much as the medic had clearly disapproved, they all knew that the General’s concentration could not be broken, not if they wanted to make it out alive.

“I am all right, Cody.”

He doesn’t sound all right. He sounds strained and worn thin, exhausted in the way he sometimes is after a grueling campaign, but Cody isn’t about to argue with him. Instead he sits beside him, forcing himself to keep his gaze straight ahead rather than letting it drift up to the boulders and debris floating above them. He doesn’t want Obi-Wan to think he doubts his ability to keep them safe.

[bentleydings]

Zeus and Triage Trooper gotta escape or else!

[triage-the-doctor]

( @empress-mizuki )

*And there he was, infront of a river, note in hand, he checked the message one last time*

"Greetings, Empress.

My name is Julien Jones, also known as Triage Trooper, or simply Triage. I am one of this island's medics and voice has arrived to me that you have came in contact with a Zero Point Touched man, and might have hurt yourself on the attempt to analyze his energy. I would like us to meet, I have a medicine that could help with whatever pain is now sadly affecting you. I hope this message reaches you soon enough.

I'll be patiently waiting for a response.

Triage J. Jones."

*It seemed good enough and polite for the Empress to recieve, he closed it and let it fall into the waters*

[shootingstarpilot]

For absolutely no reason, certainly not having anything to do with the next chapter of like lightning changing hands, no sir, absolutely not:

It had been Needle who had accompanied General Kenobi to the airfield.

Yes, he had the squaddies with him- Comet was Thunder's field medic, although medic was pushing it- it was however much training the other three could provide, so each squad would at least have someone who could provide first aid, who could keep the wounded alive long enough for one of the surgical-trained three to get to them- or to get them back to the medtent-

(They had wondered at the deliberate understaffing of Kamino-trained medics for years. Only later, all at once, will it make sense.)

So. Rumors had flurried like snow, all coalescing into the general conclusion that shit was going to go down at the airfield, and it would be likely be best for one of the primary medics to be on hand.

Needle, being Needle, had signed up even before the other two had realized someone was needed.

So.

He'd gone, and Stitch and Helix had worked, and Helix had drawn himself up all tight and Stitch had flattened himself out and they'd done the best they could to patch the hole between them-

And then the news had started to trickle through, in bits and jagged pieces.

Krell had gone Dark.

Something about friendly fire.

A duel. Decapitation at Kenobi's blade.

Casualties. Far, far too many casualties.

The numbers jump higher with every rumor.

(Krell knew he didn't stand a chance, one shiny hisses, I heard he decided to take everyone he could with him-)

Neither of them ask about Needle.

(I heard the ground's covered with limbs-)

They are both far too well-trained for that.

(I heard he straight-up started dragging troopers towards him- cutting through them in midair-)

And there's so much work here to do.

They work. They stitch up and pack in and patch up and do good work, and Needle's absence is a gaping hole between them both, and Helix grows quieter and quieter, and Stitch's shoulders draw nearly up to his ears, and they work, and they work, and they don't sleep, and they work-

The camp's noise rises, eventually, after time has twisted itself around them both into an incomprehensible knot.

A return.

It's a bittersweet triumph, but less bitter, however briefly, for the two of them, because rising above the noise is a shout both of them know- calling for supplies, for stretchers, rattling off triage designations- and when Stitch cranes his head he sees Needle's distinct splatter-patterned armor and the world slots the right way up again even as blood drips from his hands onto the packed dirt under them-

(The brush of elbows and a tired smile and a squeezed forearm and gruff orders-)

Later. Much, much later-

The three of them. Stitch, supposed to be asleep, curled up against Needle's back, but too busy feeling him breathe. Needle, sitting on the edge of the cot, the piece of flimsi in his hands being methodically shredded.

The cot dips again under Helix's weight when he sits down next to Needle. Close enough that their arms press together; Stitch can feel him. On his next inhale, he smells something sweet, and when Needle mutters a quiet thanks, his suspicion is confirmed.

(Helix puts syrup in their caff, sometimes. On the bad days.)

This is what Stitch hears:

A very quiet exhale. The brush of fabric.

"Alright?"

Fingers drumming along a greave.

"Yeah."

"Needle."

Silence.

"You know Krell went Dark."

"I heard."

"You know about the duel?"

"I assume he's dead."

"He is. Very."

Needle's voice turns lilting, briefly gleeful-

"I saw it."

Then, sobering-

"He was- he was using us. Trying to distract Kenobi."

The General. Yes. Because the General loves them, and sees them as worth protecting, and Stitch knows that some people see that as a weakness even though they love him back.

A shuddering inhale, a little more shrill-

"Helix, I- we've seen what they can do, right? The Jedi? The whole-"

A pause.

"He's on our side," Needle says, so very, very quiet. "I guess I- it's a whole other thing, you know, when power like that's turned against you."

And Stitch listens, very quietly, keeping his breathing even, as Needle tells Helix about the sensation of being lifted, seized and slammed and strangled into inaction- the way his vision had filled with a pair of blazing sabers as the air blurred around him-

(Every rumor holds a grain of truth-)

And then, the feeling of being torn nearly in half- a new grip, pulling him downwards, so close he'd felt the heat of Krell's sabers as Kenobi had yanked him underneath them like a rag doll, shoving him past the immediate danger and into the mud, out of range-

By the time he'd staggered to his feet, it was already over.

"I thought that was it," Needle says finally, so carefully, deliberately casual. "I thought- Helix, there wasn't a damn thing I could've done. Couldn't have even reached for my blaster, not like that, couldn't move a muscle."

Stitch knows Needle isn't meaning to tell him this. Because Needle doesn't like to make him worry. So he doesn't say anything, not yet- he only presses himself a little closer to the base of Needle's spine, even as another rustle and the creaking of the mattress as someone shifts indicate that Helix has wrapped an arm around Needle's shoulders- because they're alive, the three of them, but sometimes it's hard to remember that-

Tomorrow, he will hug Needle properly, even though he still won't say anything. Tomorrow, he will clean Needle's armor, and triple-check for cracks. Tomorrow-

Tomorrow.

But for now, he feels Needle breathe, and reminds himself that Krell is dead.

In pieces, even.

(Which is even better.)