Wordcount: 2294
Warnings: bullying, wounds/illness, death, grief
Summary: A civilian volunteer field medic's trials begin even before she's deployed. Luckily she doesn't have to face the challenges alone.
...
"Leave me alone, Rode," you say anxiously as you push the much bigger man away.
"Come on, girl," Rode replies scornfully. "Do you really think the GAR would accept you out of all the volunteers as a field medic? You're delusional."
"I don't have to fight as a field medic, you big brute," you counter him, losing your temper. "The only enemy I'll be fighting out there is death and he can only be beaten by skills."
Rode grins as he corners you. You desperately look around for anyone that might come to your rescue, but that area of the Republic military base seems abandoned. All the volunteer troops must be out training with the clones, or they could be in the mess hall or the barracks. Typical, you think to yourself as your mind frantically lists all the things you could do in this tough situation. Rode's voice brings you back to the bitter reality of being isolated and alone with this knucklehead. "You're not so feisty now, are you? Come on, defeat me with your skills."
You try to look threatening as you glare at him. "Grow up, Rode. We are both volunteer medics, not damned teenagers. Stop with this nonesense and get back to your duties."
"Meh, those stupid wounded clones in the Infarmary can wait a little longer," Rode says in a careless manner. "I enjoy picking fights with you far more than being on duty."
"What the hell are you doing here in the GAR then? You volunteered to do a service to the Republic, but you just shit on it! And they're men. Not just "stupid clones"," you snap, almost trembling with anger.
"I'll second that," comes a firm voice from behind Rode. He steps back from you, revealing three clones approaching. By their armor, they appear to be high ranking officers or special troops.
"Oh, just shut up!"
"Volunteer field medics in training fall into the rank of a private. Clones or not," says the one who cut Rode off in the first place as they remove their helmets. He has short blonde hair and a very nasty glare fixed on Rode. "I'm afraid I'll have to report your blatant disregard for the wounded and the complete abandonment of your duties to high command."
"You can't tell me what to d-"
"He's a captain. Of course he can," speaks up the second clone as he steps closer, all broad shoulders and threatening vibes, like a hunter ready to pounce on its prey. The man has a goatie and the number "5" tattooed on his temple. He shoots you a reassuring smile before glaring at Rode again, who presses his lips into a thin line, but makes no further attempts at disobeying orders.
"Come with me, rookie," the captain growls at Rode as he starts walking away. "Echo, on me. And you, erm..."
"(Y/n) (Y/l/n), captain," you say as you straighten your spine, trying to mask your relief with a respectful mask.
"(Y/n), could you take on his duties in the Infarmary? Fives here will help you carry the med supply boxes back from the storage room."
"Right away, sir," you reply, earning a small smirk from the captain. With Echo's help, he escorts Rode away. Good riddance. At least these troopers are level-headed, and you won't have to worry about the men Rode has left unsupervised.
"I hope they court-martial that bastard," you huff as your steady legs carry you to the storage room, your newfound courage giving a lovely spring to your steps. It's a good look on you, the trooper has to acknowledge, and while he's sure you would have been able to deal with Rode on your own, he's still glad he and his brothers were there to assist you.
"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm sure they will," Fives replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. The thought of Rode squirming shouldn't make him this satisfied, but he takes whatever he can get.
Once inside, you pile box upon box to make sure the clones left unchecked will not suffer the lack on anything. You're a bit worried you might have gone overboard, but it's not like you can't take turns carrying it all to the infirmary. "Right, that should do it. Two or three turns, and we'll get it all to the boys."
"Two or three turns? You clearly don't know me. I can handle this in one go."
Fives leans down and lazily attempts to pick up a crate, but is soon surprised by its weight. His eyes widen almost comically and you grin, picking up a crate of your own. "So... Remember what I said about taking it all in one? Let's make it three. Maybe four."
...
"My arms are burning. Is it normal for my arms to still burn?"
You can't help but giggle. You are both exhausted messes by the end of your shift, you taking care of the clones and thus pulling a double shift, Fives heroically staying and offering his help to you despite the fact that he had a day off. But all the aching, all the exhaustion is worth it because you saved lives and left the world a little better than you found it. "You'll be fine."
"Are you sure? It seems rather serious to me. In fact, I'm pretty sure I should come back tomorrow for a checkup. And the day after too, for good measure."
You think he's joking still, and you glance at him with a wide smile, but his face is serious, his eyes searching your face to see what reaction his implication would elicit from you. When he smirks a little, you realise he's flirting with you, and you try not to blush too much.
"Well, I'm the medical professional, and I don't think you should be left alone and unsupervised tonight."
"Can't argue with that logic. I have some things to take care of, but meet me by the entrance of the volunteer's barracks in about an hour."
...
Coruscant at night is a truly marvelous sight - all twinkling city lights and ships like a thousand fireflies blurring with the stars of the night sky. You're lucky enough to be on the surface, to see the sky, to breathe the air less polluted than on the levels below. Fives kept his word, and returned to you an hour later, with rations and a bottle of Corellian whiskey, the result of a favour called in. You slipped out into the Coruscanti night, and found an abandoned catwalk closed due to a construction left unguarded. It seems safe enough though, so you stay, and eat, and talk and laugh. You both need this, after dealing with Rode's defective behaviour and harassment, after tending to the wounded and the sick all day.
You are tired, and the whiskey pleasantly numbs and lulls you, but you realise you don't want this day to end when you glance at Fives's smiling face. Your mother gave you a holocall last week from your home in Alderaan, asking if you've met anyone special at the Republic capital. You laughed and shook your head - she imagined you falling in love with a wealthy senator, or a military officer perhaps, but you never found them interesting. You never found the idea of having someone or settling down attractive either, but it's ironic really that the first person to make you feel the opposite is someone who's unable to give you either of those things. You may regard him as a man, but just because you do, the rest of the world won't.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks you, leaning closer, eager to hear what is going on inside your head. Force knows he'd rather distract himself from the whirlwind of emotions in his chest. No simulation, no lesson, no training could prepare him for liking someone, and while he knows he's not supposed to, he still finds himself drawn to you, and the life you represent. You might serve in the GAR as he is, but you had a choice. He wants to know what it feels, and he wants to know it through you, with you.
"I know we've barely just met, but I really do like spending time with you. I hope I'm not coming off as creepy. I just... I don't know many people here. Especially not people who are as nice as you are."
"No need to butter me up, doc," he laughs, coming off laid back despite the quick pounding of his heart. "I'll help you fend off the likes of Rode anytime in the future."
"Right. Because that's the biggest threat we'll ever have to face out there."
"Don't talk about missions, okay? Not now. Not tonight," Fives says, suddenly sounding all serious again. Maybe even a little bit scared.
"I'm sorry. You're right. Not tonight."
...
"You look like you need 2 days of sleep or a bottle of Chandrilan wine. Or both."
The music at 79's is loud. Louder than what you want. Your bones rattle with every beat of the heavy bass, and your racing heart and sore limbs want nothing more than rest. But there's no other place you could legally meet, no other place you would not be held accountable for deserting your posts. You've just been rotated back to Coruscant, and Fives ships out in two days. You want to make the most of it, hence why you're willing to put up with the clamour and intoxication of the club.
Fives's face is like the fucking sun in the midst of this place.
"Probably both. But seeing you is better than either."
You don't miss the flash of anguish that passes through his face like a lightning through a tree before he smiles widely and reaches across to hold your hand in his. He's grateful for Rex and Echo to have his back as they've conveniently camped down outside the box you two occupied, shielding you from any unwanted attention. "You too, Cy'arika, you too. I cannot tell you how much I've missed you without losing my dignity."
You want to tell him how you cannot hold on anymore. How you've seen him die over and over again, while holding the men in your arms who look exactly like him when they're beyond help and passing away. You want to tell him that you miss him every day, that you want to hold his hand, not the hands of his wounded brothers' in agony.
"Fives, listen to me. I've saved up enough credits to get us both out of here. To set us up to a good start somewhere remote. Somewhere untouched by the war in the fringe systems. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I'm beyond shame at this point. I love you. Seeing you thrust in a war that is simply not yours to fight is breaking my heart. I volunteered to help, to ease the suffering of the Republic, but I see now that every clone I save just gets returned to the frontlines. At this point, you're the only one I can save from the war. And I want you to let me."
His lips on yours are rash and eager and needy, capturing and absolving your conscious thoughts as he puts his arms around you. The pad of his thumb rubs slow circles on your cheekbone as he draws back, brown eyes boring into yours with a sincerity and close vicinity that makes you want to cry.
"I made an oath."
"No. I made an oath. You were made to make an oath. There's a huge difference."
"You want me to live as a defector."
"No. I want you to live as a free man. Otherwise, this system will make sure you die a slave. And you deserve so much better than that."
"I already have more than most my brothers do," he says with a small smile, implying to possessing your love. His next kiss tells you all you need to know, lacing his answers in kisses pressed against your beestung lips. I'm sorry. I can't. I wish I could. I'm sorry.
...
"He died a hero."
The silence following Rex's words echoes down the empty barracks, just like the pangs of grief in your heart. He was gone, you kept telling yourself, but the words always came out untrue. There's no body to bury, no cold cheeks to kiss goodbye, no old possession of his to hold onto. Nothing. Fives, a wonderful man and partner to you, was gone without a trace as if he never existed at all.
And now Rex's grief is too real. Worse than any corpse or gaping wound could be. When he tells you about Fives' death, you finally listen. You finally comprehend. You finally ache.
"Do you really believe that?" you ask, swallowing the hiccups of your now controlled sobs.
"I have to. I have to. I just... I wish he left with you when he had the chance."
"You and me both. You know, I'm not sure where he is now. Not sure he's one with the Force, or whatever that nonsense Jedi keep spouting. Hell, I don't even know if there is such a thing as the Force. But the only thing that puts my mind at ease is that Echo is finally no longer alone."
"I always knew those two were inseparable, but this is ridiculous."
"Funny," you whisper, eyes welling up with fresh tears. "People used to say that about us too."