This must be what going insane feels like. I haven't moved except to use the bathroom for three days. At least I think it's been three days. I'm not sure if the medical droid treating me is accurate on that plain.
Sometime during the night of the third day, the door is opened and a trooper rolled in. Like me, his left shoulder has bandages on it, and some around his ribs to boot. A blanket covers the rest of his unconscious form. Yellow hair close to his head covers the top and back of his skull.
Looks like room is running out for the wounded, my sympathetic side observes.
The medical droid who's been taking care of me injects the clone with something before going to the other side of the room to tidy up a counter. After a few minutes of studying my new roommate, I lose interest and am back to being bored and unable to sleep. Until he wakes up, I'm stuck with nothing to do.
I've started calling my medical droid Six-Dot for the number of glowing dots where its eyes are. Three per optic. I can think of plenty more nicknames, but leave it at my most used one.
When I look at the injured soldier again, something twinges in my chest.
How many clones died in the battle that injured him? Definitely my sympathetic side.
I may have left the Republic, but I was and am on their side. And always with my brothers. One quality that I share with all the other clones is my sense of loyalty.
I regret sleeping earlier. Now I'm stuck with hours of nothing to do. I roll onto my left side. This warrants immediate protests from Six-Dot. I'm starting to consider causing more trouble so I won't be bored. After several minutes of ignoring orders, I feel a prick on my arm and roll on my back to get a better look. From what I can tell, Six-Dot just injected me with something. I start feeling heavy, and can't move. Through the haze in my eyes, I can see the soldier is awake.
"What happened to 'no needles'?" I growl before the weight reaches my eyelids.
§ § §
When I wake up again, I don't move, don't change my breathing pattern, and don't open my eyes. I listen carefully to the sounds filling the small room. Six-Dot is definitely in here. I turn my concentration over to the new arrival'a breathing. He's still awake.
My head is lolled right, facing the soldier and the door. I wait until I hear the door open and close. My left eye opens to a slit. The clone is watching me. I can't see much of the room, so I give him a questioning look, then flick my eyes to my left, asking silently if anyone is behind me. He smiles.
"The droid's gone, kid." I open my eyes all the way and prop myself up like I did when Skywalker was here.
"Good to know."
"He's been putting you out a lot?" I shake my head.
"Nah. I just don't like getting stuck with needles." I hear him before I see him and go back to lying down. I don't try to hide being asleep, though. When Six-Dot walks in, he looks me up and down before walking back to the table.
I watch the droid carefully, not missing a single move.
He's going down to Three-Dot if he tries to stick me again, my more aggressive side mutters.
And yet, despite my less-than-friendly thoughts and death glares, I'm approached with liquid-filled syringes. I wait as long as I can, hoping he won't be coming to poke me, but then he reaches for my arm. I pull it away a little too quickly than necessary. Six-Dot looks at me.
"About that no needles policy." I hear a huff of amusement from the soldier.
"You need more rest." Worst excuse possible right now.
"What do you think I've been doing for the past several days?" He tries once more and grabs my arm before I can dodge again. I remember the claws of the torture droids back in the prisons and panic. When the needle goes in I start losing my grasp on awareness.
I wonder if this is going to raise questions.
§ § §
Once again, I refrain from signs of consciousness until Six-Dot is gone. The soldier is looking around with bleary eyes, probably woken by the noisy exit. My side throbs from where it bounced against the firm mattress when I was struggling.
My fingers start drumming against the blanket covering my stomach. This has become my habit after the first day here. My other hand joins in until all of my fingers are tapping my chest.
"You alright there, Twitch?" It takes a couple seconds before I realize he means me.
"Yeah." Lie of the week. 'Twitch' is starting to suit me. It has for three years when I come to think about it. Another wonderful thing about my genetics is that I age at the regular speed of an average human. So it takes me twice as long as other clones to grow up...physically. I'm still as smart as any other thirteen year old cadet.
"You seemed a little worried about that injection." Why is it I knew this would come up?
"I already said; I don't like needles." Thankfully, he doesn't push the subject. Instead, he opens up a new one.
"Name's Rex, by the way."
Blast it, I can't answer that one!
I get this strange feeling that I shouldn't tell anyone I'm a clone, but what else can I do? I give up after a long thought chain that took a second to create. His expression finally breaks my hesitance.
"Uh, CT-3758." I really need a five-second-reset button. He scowls and looks at me critically, causing me to silently curse myself.
Pseudonym, genius, use a kriffing pseudonym! You always use a fake name!
Sarcasm, do kindly shut up.
Clearly I'm not very good at lying to other clones.
"Hate to break it to you, but you aren't the right gender to be a clone."
"That's kind of been made painfully obvious in the past three years." I'm feeling defensive, like he's verbally attacking me.
I was wrong on two accounts. Twitch absolutely suits me and I need a five-minute-reset button.
"And you don't share our face." He adds.
"Not true if you exclude everything feminine."
"And if you were a clone, you wouldn't be injured at this age, right?" I feel like I'm getting scolded. A pocket of unchecked frustration bursts in me and I can't stop the words that come out next. I have no idea where the anger is from, but I know it isn't directed at Rex.
"Well, I was injured at this age and younger. If you still want to know why I hate needles so much, it's because they were part of my torture when I went rogue and Separatists caught me. And the reason I went rogue in the first place was because I'm a flaw." The last words are soft and slowly deliberate. "I shouldn't even exist." My outburst was irrational and a result of overreaction.
This isn't going to end well. I'm really starting to wish I didn't have a pessimistic side.
Rex's scowl has twisted into an expression of deep thought. I can't tell what's going on in his head, and I'm not sure I want to know.
The door opens and Six-Dot walks in. His head is angled down and I immediately close my eyes and feign regular breathing. I'm silently begging Rex not to rat me out. I don't think I can keep clam through another inoculation. This is probably an irrational fear, but it's hard not to shy away from a syringe after two years of being poked with them.
I hear the droid coming closer and tense. My arms are under the blanket, so he won't be able to inject me without alerting me as well. I'm just about to knock him away.
Five, four, three, two—
"Wait." Rex's voice stops both of us.
"What is the problem?" Six-Dot asks.
"She hasn't moved once. I don't think she needs another shot for a while."
"You do not have medical training. She is to be kept unconscious until her bed rest is over." The very thought of ten days without movement makes me (unfortunately) visibly cringe.
I can feel Six-Dot moving the blanket again. My eyes fly open as I grab his needle hand and wrench it away from my body, sitting up. My patent garment shifts to show the bandage on my shoulder. Not much is visible, but it clearly draws Rex's attention.
"I've been generally well behaved. Ten days unconscious is not happening." My words are spat out, as though they have a fowl taste.
"I'm afraid it is." I look down and see that while I was busy with one hand, the other had injected me with a different needle. I fall back onto my pillow and get out a curse before everything goes dark.
§ § §
The next several days are spent unconscious or almost awake just to have my hopes ripped away by another needle. I don't know how long it's been, but I'm floating darkness constantly.
§ § §
I feel myself coming to, but just wait expectantly for the next injection to put me out. It doesn't come, though even after I regain full awareness I stay still. As usual, I wait for Six-Dot to leave. It takes forever, but I've learned patience over the last two weeks. As soon as he's gone I sit up and look around, clutching my head when a dizzy spell hits.
"Twitch, are you okay?" That's a voice I'm glad to hear.
"Hey, Rex."
"You look a little out of it."
"I am. Anyone try to blow up the ship?"
"Not yet. You, uh, you alright, kid?"
"Yeah. What about you?"
"I'm fine. Any idea when you can get up?" I half-smile at the soldier.
"Well, Six-Dot said two weeks of bed rest. I guess I can get up whenever."
"Six-Dot?" He raises an eyebrow.
"I nicknamed the medical droid taking care of us. It was a result of my boredom before you arrived."
"Heh. Any other nicknames for him?"
"Yeah. Boring." The joke is delivered with utter seriousness. This gets more laughter than it deserves, but I join in. My side still aches, but not as badly as before. I hear clanking and quickly lie down and close my eyes. A second later, Six-Dot walks in.
"Female patient, my sensors indicate that you are conscious. Explain your actions." Oh, grief.
"Just trying to make sure you don't stick me again."
"That was necessary. You needed the rest." I barely stop myself from starting an argument with a hunk of metal.
"Alright. But I'm restarting the 'no needles' rule." I don't care if it sounds childish. Needles and I have a very bad past.
"Very well." He turns to Rex. "You are able to walk. You are to report on the bridge after you get dressed." Oh, great. There goes my conversation partner. The soldier leaves without question, giving me a friendly nod before walking out with a loose shirt covering his torso. Back to being bored in five, four, three, two, one.
"You are also now able to walk. You have been assigned quarters. Return back here every other day." The droid tells me the location and I get up. After I find my new room, I go to the sink, grab a facecloth, and start cleaning my body. When was the last time I washed in clean water? After I've scrubbed myself down, I start living up to my nickname again.
What is there to do? I can't really run around until my side has completely healed. I will not get in bed for a while. Oh, yeah. I haven't eaten lately.
I find a map protected by a glass cover down the hallway and plot out the way to the Mess Hall. Good enough. I manage to find the Mess without getting lost, so I'm fairly pleased with myself. It's late at night as far as I can tell, so I'm one of the few who are here.
I get a helping of food and sit down at an empty table. I'm clearly not a Padawan, and the cruisers don't take tourists, so I really don't belong here. I feel painfully conspicuous, though thankfully my black, skin-tight shirt covers the bandages.
I wolf down my helping, place the tray among the other dirty ones, and return to my quarters.
Well, now what?
I once again have nothing left to do but sleep. Once I'm in bed, the aftereffects of the anesthetic drag me under again.
A.N. ~ I forgot to mention in the first chapter that CT-3758 doesn't have multiple-personality-disorder or anything like that. She basically plays Devil's Advocate with herself. She is completely mentally sound, if a little hyperactive. Please review, negative and positive comments... Chapter three within the next nine to ten hours. I really have to sleep.