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themonopolyhat · 1 year

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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

#my writing #shoulder the sky #hanahaki #windix #mace windu #helix the clone medic #shootingstarpilot #fanfiction #the clone wars

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