It was embarrassing. Completely, totally, all around humiliating.

Here he was, a trained from birth killing machine, a hardened soldier with too many scars to count, sitting in a non-clone hospital -

With a stomach ache.

CT-1191 had been doing his regular rounds around the senate building, wishing he hadn't been put on such a task, when a sudden dizziness overcame him. He pushed it off at first, thinking it nothing more than a lack of sleep.

He hadn't been sleeping well since he had landed on Curoscant. Of course, that may have had something to do with what had happened before he was placed on the most populated planet in the Republic.

But CT-1191 didn't want to think about that, and so he didn't.

So, he ignored the growing dizziness and continued patrolling. It was a cool night, and he was thankful he had his armor on. His body suit kept his body in a comfortable, controlled climate. In other words, while he watched other beings huddle into their coats for warmth, he merely stood and allowed his suit to do its job. He didn't know why clones were pitied, honestly. They were superior to regular humans, were given everything neccasary for survival, didn't need to worry about money...

A shiver ran through his body, cutting off his line of thought.

He shifted his weight to his other leg, hoping the strange reaction was due to standing in one place for too long.

The quaking didn't stop.

CT-1191 stretched his arms over his head, intwining his fingers together as he did so. Several pops and snaps reverberated through his body. He lowered his arms and noticed how badly he was shaking. Apparently it wasn't caused by standing in one place too long...

He took a few steps to his right, then returned to his position.

Definately not due to standing for too long.

He growled, forcing his body to stop shaking. He managed to keep it still for a good two minutes, then his teeth began chattering.

Was his suit defective? He would have to talk to someone about this, it was unacceptable. He felt a chill rise up his arms and legs and frowned.

With a few adjustments in his helmet, the temperature in his suit rose to compensate for the chill he was feeling. His body stopped shaking and he sighed. He needed to be worrying about his job, not how cold it was.

About ten minutes later, he began to feel nauseous.

CT-1191 groaned. What was wrong with him?

He hadn't eaten anything but a ration bar a few hours ago, so his stomach wasn't acting up over something he had eaten.

He shifted his weight again, feeling light-headed. There was a strange sensation running through his body. He knew he was burning up, but he wanted more heat.

Ah, I must be ill, he mused as he looked at his quivering hands.

He had never been sick sick before. He had hit his head pretty hard once and threw up in his lap. That had been a rather unpleasant experience, but his stomach hadn't hurt like this.

Then his abdomen began actually spasming. His arms automatically wrapped around his middle, hoping to stop the painful reaction. He could feel the muscles in his middle relaxing, then constricting painfully.

CT-1191 barely managed to make it into the nearest hospital. He knew he needed to stay at his post, but the pain made his feet move. What a sad thing it was to realize how weak he was when he knew he wasn't...

The hospital, he had realized too late, wasn't even a clone hospital.

But he was hurting. The nausea was getting stronger, and he was hoping he wouldn't throw up in the damn lobby.

He realized he was being stared at and groaned silently. Why was he so stupid? Why hadn't he just gone back to the barracks and asked to see a doctor there? He heard their whispering questions to each other and rolled his eyes behind the safety of his helmet.

Yes, I'm a clone, no, I am not a droid, yes, I know where I am...

A rather painful spasm shook his body and he doubled over, trying not to fall to the floor. The whispers stopped, and no one moved. He felt his cheeks burn, and not from the fever.

After recovering, he turned to leave. No one was willing to help here, so he'd have to walk all the way back to the barracks...

"Excuse me?"

What was the point? Maybe he'd get hit by a speeder? He felt like dying...

"Sir? Excuse me,"

CT-1191 barely heard the voice right behind him. He then felt a hand on his plated shoulder, something he did notice. He spun around, instantly regretting it. Whoever it was had almost been hit in the face by his armored forearm.

Also, the quick movement did nothing for his spinning head.

He fell against whoever had wanted his attention -

And didn't stop falling until he and whoever it was hit the floor.

The only sound he heard was a gasp, and realized it was the person he fell onto. He looked through bleary eyes into the face of a woman.

Oh, a woman. CT-1191 sucked in a breath and did his best to scramble to his feet. "I-I'm sorry ma'am, I...ugh.." The scrambling ended him up on floor on his rear. His arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "Shab..."

It hurt. Tears stung his eyes as the muscle cramps became worse.

The woman was on her knees, beside the trooper. "Sir? What's wrong? What's hurting?"

He knew it was ridiculous, but it sounded as if the woman had been around troopers before. She sounded like the civillian nurses that worked in the Curoscant GAR hospital. "My...stomach."

CT-1191 felt cool air hit his face. She had taken off his helmet.

"Oh," she gasped. It almost sounded as if she were in awe.

He was in too much pain to give it too much thought at that moment, though, and sat in silence. Even if it was strange, since she had clearly worked in a GAR hospital before. Surely she had seen that there were human faces under the helmets? It shouldn't have surprised her that much.

"I can't treat you here," she said in a whisper against his ear. She sounded nervous. "Do you trust me?"

CT-1191 looked up through watery eyes, not knowing what to think. His first gut response was no. He had no reason to trust a civillian, mongrel stranger. A brother would be different, even if he was a stranger. But as he looked her in the face, seeing nothing but worry -

"Yes," he answered.

(A/N: This is a companion piece to Dangerously Disarming. You don't have to read the other, it's just how this idea started. Am I going too far? Tell me what ya think please. There will be more, depending on your responses. I've never wrote a story quite like this before, so bear with me. I don't plan on this story being too long, but we know how that goes. ;) I'll try to update soon.)