T/W: Slavery, panic attacks, hospices, terminal illnesses and some minor blood/medical stuff
Thanks so much to InkSplots for letting me borrow Shatter! Check out their works!
Skywalker's new Padawan had barely been with the Legion for three days before Coric found her hiding an injury from him.
He didn't agree with the Council sending their kids to war, but if they had to, could they at least teach the ankle-biters that untreated wounds would never get better on their own?
"Right," he put his medkit on the floor and knelt beside the trembling Togruta. He'd researched the species as much as he could since he saw the teenager step out of the transport on Christophsis, but he was still at a loss in regard to her montrals and lekku which were half-coated in blood. "What happened here?"
"It was only a graze," Ahsoka muttered, forehead resting on her knees as her eyes tightly closed. Dizziness- Coric guessed- based on the way she was swaying slightly. "Nothing some bacta paste couldn't fix."
Coric frowned, glancing at the General who only shrugged- this appeared to be his first-time hearing about this as well. The Sergeant had been called to Skywalker's quarters when the girl stumbled there in the middle of the night, barely able to stand upright and begging her Master to make the room stop spinning.
"Can I take a look?" Consent was important, even if Coric fully planned on sedating her if she refused.
Ahsoka moved her hand away from her left lekku, revealing a mangled mess. Skywalker made a quiet gagging noise, and even Coric had to grimace from the repulsive odour emitting from the bloodied flesh.
"That's more than a graze, sir," he said sourly, putting on a pair of gloves whilst trying to only breathe through his mouth. As far as infections go, it was a miracle that the Commander was still alert and responsive.
He started to clean the wound with practised but light fingers, wiping away the pus and gunk that had been festering inside the open wound for over seventy-two hours now.
"I grazed it on the broken edge of one of the cannons as I tried to get to cover," Ahsoka made out through gritted teeth, trying her hardest to not cringe away from his hands.
Coric frown deepened, and not just because this wouldn't have happened if the Togruta wore some sort of protective headgear. No, it was her attitude that had him ticking. Kix was the one who would play along with the 'all medics are evil' joke, but Coric actually took a lot of pride in his work, and Ahsoka's comment stirred something in his gut.
"And why didn't you come to the med tent immediately?" He asked, applying an antibiotic cream to the wound. He couldn't stitch it until the oozing eased up.
Ahsoka ducked her head impossibly deeper into her knees, "You were all busy; I didn't want to bother you with some stupid scratch."
Coric had to hold back a sigh. If her Master wouldn't correct this behaviour, then this was a conversation that needed to happen between medic and patient. After all, Skywalker was just as bad- if not worse- when it came to pretending that blaster wounds were scratches and limbs hanging off were just sore muscles.
"Kid," he heard her inhale sharply from the nickname, "you know, a cut is easier to treat than sepsis?"
Slowly, her head bobbed up and down, and Coric heard her swallow loudly. He pressed a hypo to her bicep, feeling some sympathy win out over the parental frustration, "For the nausea."
He and the General managed to haul her to the medbay, where Coric promised to keep her until her temperature lowered. She was on antibiotics for the next week- mixed into some rice as he learnt that she struggled to take pills orally. Coric intentionally gave her the doses when she was sat with the veterans at dinner- just to drill it into her that hiding injuries was never a good idea.
"Should've seen it coming, kid," Rex shook his head as Coric stole her from training to check her wound- even after it had fully healed. "You might have gotten away with it with Kix, but you'll never get past Coric."
He would be lying if he said he didn't purposefully try to milk the whole experience, but it worked. It was the last time Ahsoka ever hid an injury from him.
Coric didn't like feeling helpless. Unfortunately, as much as he hated to admit it, the Blue Shadow Virus took a lot out of him.
A round of rib-shaking coughs racked through him, and the 212th medic winced, holding out the bowl as far away from himself as possible, so Coric could spit a mix of mucous, blood and blue-stained bile into it.
With a groan, he dropped back onto the mattress, heaving hard. He'd suffered colds and the odd virus before- even jungle fever once- but he'd never felt this bad. Every breath hurt, and the only way to stop his head from throbbing was to tightly close his eyes.
It was busy in the medbay- two days after Generals Skywalker and Kenobi dragged them out of the bunker with the Blue Shadow Virus cure in hand. Coric had tried to keep his brothers alive, but so many had died, and now many were still suffering.
He was worried about the Commander, who laid very quietly in the back corner. Skywalker hadn't left her side in a few hours, and that was frightening considering he seemed paranoid about watching over the Senator who- all things considered- was doing a lot better than anyone else.
"You should drink, Sergeant," a glass was held out to him, and Coric knew who was at his bedside from the accent alone.
He took the glass from Kenobi's hand and took a small sip. They tried giving everyone semi-solid food last night, and he was one of the three who couldn't keep any substance down. The other two had died in the morning, which left him the most critically ill.
It sucked. He was a medic- the chief medic of the 501st Legion, and he was supposed to be caring for the ill- not bedbound with limited time left.
"Thank you, sir," he muttered, hand shaking as he put the glass on the table beside his bed.
Kenobi looked down at him with sympathy- like he was some kriffing stray loth-cat with a broken leg. "How are you feeling?"
He barely managed a smile, "I've been better-" a series of coughs cut him off, and Coric covered his mouth- cheeks going flushed from being in such a state before a highly esteemed Jedi Master.
Kenobi only pressed his lips together, "Shatter told me that you're improving. He expects you'll make a full recovery once the oxygen arrives."
Ah, yes- the oxygen that Coric initially refused and requested was given to his brothers as there was only a limited supply- there's always a limited supply. Force, he wished he had accepted the glorious miracle-healing gas when he had the chance. He might have been able to get some proper rest without fearing his lungs completely collapsing.
He started to cough again- harder, this time- and it didn't stop. Lurching up in bed, Coric gasped for a breath that he couldn't catch. The 501st boys recovering around him- including the Captain- looked over with concern, and Kenobi waved Shatter over to them, keeping one hand on Coric's shoulder in reassurance.
Another 212th medic collected the defibrillator from the back room, which only panicked Coric even more. Twice that morning, the Legion watched the medics try to resuscitate two of their brothers- only to fail. Coric couldn't be the third- he couldn't!
"Coric," his name was spoken sternly, and Shatter places a firm hand on his stomach. His eyes carry the same intensity that Coric looked at his own patients with. "You need to calm down. We're administering you some meds."
He couldn't calm down, especially not when the young medic is pushing a needle into his side, and he couldn't see the label of the drug. His coughing only droned on- assisted by the trauma that made him realise how scary it was to be the one in the cot.
Never again would he blame a trooper for trying to escape the medbay, if this is what it felt like.
"Relax, trooper," Kenobi started brushing a hand over his forehead- wiping away the sweat, "You're going to be fine."
Coric clenched his teeth together, already feeling the effect of the medicine. It made his head feel woozy, and his limbs felt like lead. Already, the burning sensation in his chest began to ease, and the coughing ceased.
He laid limply against the bed once Shatter deemed him well enough to move onto the next patient, but Kenobi stayed. In silence, he sat there- his grounding presence keeping Coric in the land of the living, and not joining the brothers who had died before him.
"Do you know why you're here, Sergeant?"
Coric nodded once- stood at the strictest attention he'd ever held. A man and a woman sat at the table- peering at him over the rims of their glasses. He wondered how much they were getting paid. It had to be a decent living in the GAR headquarters- wringing out the bad soldiers whilst never having to put their own lives on the line.
"Yes, ma'am." He answered the woman, all business. He imagined Fives would try to flirt with her, or Hardcase would tell the man a joke, but Coric wasn't like his brothers. He was the serious one- the one who tried to do his job well.
Apparently, not well enough- at least according to these snobs.
"Your actions nearly killed one of the most highly established Jedi Knights in the Order." The man said- as if Coric didn't already know this. "What do you have to say about the nine different types of stimulants and painkillers found in General Anakin Skywalker's bloodstream after he was admitted to the Halls of Healing?"
That the General gave him a direct order to give him anything and everything to keep him going until the battle was won.
That was the truth, but they wouldn't accept that answer. Passing the blame onto his Jedi would only lead to more problems. Coric needed to take responsibility for his actions, as much as he repulsed them.
Overdosing Skywalker on a cocktail of stims and pain meds wasn't his smartest idea, but the General managed to persuade him. It was a losing battle for the Republic, and when the Knight got caught in a blast that put his ankle out of the fight, Coric knew it wouldn't be long until they got picked off one-by-one.
Keeping him going not only secured their victory, but it also saved dozens of lives, even if the General nearly lost his own once they returned to the cruiser.
It would be so easy to tell the GAR representatives that he was only following orders, but he couldn't do that to Skywalker. If the Council didn't tear him apart for being reckless with his life and the lives of his men, then the Commander and General Kenobi would certainly be able to chew him up.
"Price of war."
The words slipped past his lips before Coric could stop them, and his cheeks reddened slightly as the man raised his wiry eyebrows, "Beg your pardon?"
Coric swallowed hard- he'd put his foot in it now. He resisted the urge to ask these people if they had ever stepped foot on a battlefield before. Had they held their friends as they died? Had they been forced to make decisions where every option had a consequence? Had they felt the adrenaline of staring death in the face and fought to live another day?
No, they hadn't.
"The Republic wouldn't have won if General Skywalker hadn't stayed on the field." He said instead.
The woman pushed up her glasses, frowning deeply, "We all want the Republic to win, Sergeant, but the health of our soldiers comes first."
It was his turn to frown, "I was putting the health of the men first."
"No, no," the woman shakes her head, almost smiling to herself, "the health of the Jedi, trooper; that's what comes first."
Oh...
He didn't pay attention to the rest of his bollocking. All he knew as he left the GAR headquarters and deeply inhaled the fresh air, is that he narrowly avoided a one-way trip back to Kamino, and that was only because the man claimed to have field medical experience and called Coric's record 'impressive'.
So, he left with a slap on the wrist, a training review of substance misuse, and thirty days of disciplinary leave where he'd have to put hours in at Coruscant Med.
Sighing, Coric looked ahead, expecting to see Rex waiting for him as the Captain promised- because all the men thought that it was out of line for the GAR to toss its toys out of the pram over something so silly- only to see the General waiting by the speeder.
Skywalker waved him over, and Coric headed in his direction hesitantly. It was clear that the Jedi was leaning on his speeder for support, and his face was paler than usual, but he'd been discharged from the Halls of Healing several days ago.
"I've already heard the outcome." Skywalker said, flashing his datapad that no doubt had received the details of Coric's meeting. He gave the medic a tired smile, "I'm happy to go in and shout at some people to scrap the thirty days of being grounded, but I can't do much about the training review."
"Don't bother, General," Coric brushed him off, climbing into the passenger seat as Skywalker turned the speeder on. "Compared to reconditioning, I have it easy."
His General paused and softened his expression, "Coric, I really am sorry- if I had known how seriously the GAR would take this-"
"Sir," Coric cut him off respectfully, and Skywalker was a smart enough man to know when to shut up. "There's no need to apologise. I'm just glad you didn't actually die on me."
Skywalker said nothing- sensing that any protest would be countered- and stiffly turned his gaze back to the road. Coric chewed his lip. He didn't want to fall out with his CO, and he also didn't want to be put in the same situation in the future.
Who knew- the GAR might not be so forgiving, and Skywalker might run out of lives.
"General Skywalker," the use of his formal title had the man glancing over, "Please, don't order me to do something like that in the future."
The Jedi nodded solemnly, "You have my word, Sergeant."
"You're starting to sound like General Krell."
Everyone had paused when the words left Kix's lips, and half the troopers- Rex included- looked at Coric next.
He was the older medic- more experienced- and that meant he had to take care of his younger brother and keep him in line, even if he partially agreed with his statement.
Kix couldn't keep his head in the game. They'd been off Umbara for three days, and although most of the wounded had been discharged to the barracks for rest or sent to better equipped medbay, there was still a steady stream of work for the medics. Coric tried to take on as much of the load as possible to give the junior medic some time off, but even he was reaching his limits, and Skywalker stepping inside the medbay only added duel to the fire.
"He can't be here," Kix said to Coric in a hushed tone- eyeing the Jedi wearily from across the room as the Knight observed the medbay. "He's freaking the men out."
"Kix," Coric could feel himself reaching the end of his patience, and he hadn't had caf in three hours, but he tried to keep his composure, "the men are on enough painkillers to not even notice him."
As if on cue, Skywalker glanced their way, and Coric gave him a half-salute, half-wave in greeting. The Jedi pointed to the door where a delivery of bacta had been delivered and waited for the Sergeant to nod in gratitude before leaving the medbay as quietly as he came.
"See?" Coric looked at Kix- surprised to see his face pale, "Kix?"
His eyes were glazed, and when Coric touched his shoulder, Kix didn't react. He had to hold back a sigh. Out of all of his personal time that Kix could get upset about the Jedi and Krell's betrayal, he had to get upset in the middle of a shift?
Resisting the urge to knock some sense into the younger medic with a harsh smack to his cheek, Coric gently pulled him aside- tucking them away into the office and closing the blinds. He didn't need their patients to witness Kix's breakdown, and the medbay could be unsupervised for at least a few minutes.
"Kix," he softened his tone and helped the clone onto the worn chair. It was easier to see he was hyperventilating now- a shine of sweat across his tattooed head and trembling hands being a clear indicator that Kix was panicking.
"Buddy, Skywalker's gone," Coric knelt by his side and took Kix's hands, searching for eye contact. Kix was blinking- unfocused- but his gaze fell to their joined hands, and that was progress. Coric tried again, "Can you squeeze my hands?"
He could- that was also good. Not only was he aware, but he also didn't see Coric as a threat. Taking a risk, Coric raised one hand- slowly so Kix wouldn't flinch- and laid it against his cheek. The junior immediately untensed, resting his head in Coric's palm.
"How can you be okay with what happened, Coric?" Kix whispered.
"I'm not," Coric sighed. He couldn't decide whether he loved or hated being one of the older clones. It was nice to be looked up to and respected, but not so nice to be considered the rock of the group.
"But I have to be," he continued, leaning closer to Kix, "we have to be, vod. Those guys out there-" he jerked his head towards the office door, "they're relying on us to make it all better. We're the healers."
Kix nodded, sniffing once. He was breathing slow and steady now- no longer spiralling in his doubts and fears. Deep down, he knew Skywalker wasn't a threat, and he knew the 501st would recover from the wounds that Umbara left.
As medics, it was their job to speed up the healing process.
Coric had learnt a lot about Togrutas since working alongside Commander Tano.
They were a social species, which explained why Ahsoka bonded so well with the men and rarely spent time alone. They also had sensitive lekku and montrals, and echolocation could come in very handy at times.
They also had incredibly sharp teeth- a trait that Coric had learnt about the unfortunate way when trying to rouse the Commander out of a nightmare in the medbay.
One other thing he had learnt- much to his displeasure- is that Togrutas were one of the most highly sexualised species in the galaxy- second to Twi'leks.
The 501st did a good job of protecting Ahsoka in public by glaring at anyone who dared to salivate at the sight of their teenage Commander. It was the responsibility of the older ones- Rex, Fives, Coric, etc- to protect her, and they had all thrown fists before to defend her honour. They had a rule that nobody above the Captain would find out if they put some sleemo in hospital for leering at Ahsoka.
Medic code be screwed- Coric would fight to his dying breath to protect that kid.
He had to keep himself in check as more Togruta females were led into the temporary med centre in the hanger of General Koon's cruiser. Their state of dress made it clear that they hadn't been kept in the mines like Rex and Kenobi, and their youthfulness only confirmed that they were in fact pleasure slaves.
Coric commed the General as Kix filed girls into triage to see who most desperately needed medical attention, and who could be left alone to lick their own wounds. "Sir, could you send the Commander down? We've got a lot of girls down here."
The reply came quickly, "Sorry, Sergeant; she's tied up in a meeting with the Council and Governor Roshti."
He muttered a curse silently, "Okay; thanks for letting me know." Commlink put away, he glanced at Kix, "We're on our own for this."
Scanning the row of girls as quickly as possible to save them from feeling too exposed, Coric's medic wired brain soon came up with a list of the most seriously injured. Most were flesh wounds from the electric wipes, and a few had dislocated shoulders, which he didn't even want to think too much about because he knew from sparring how painful it was to be restrained like that.
He and Kix started working their way through the group, focusing on establishing trust and communication before asking for consent to treat the various injuries. Thankfully, seeing the Republic as a saviour force meant that none of the girls were too skittish, although none were too careful either.
Coric was bandaging the final girl's sprained wrist and telling her a story about the time he added salt instead of sweetener to the Captain's caf when his commlink buzzed on his wrist, "Sergeant Coric, you're needed in the hanger."
He held back a sigh- he hated being interrupted whilst with a patient. "Excuse me, ma'am." The girl nodded graciously, admiring his handiwork with the flexicast, as he touched the device, "Urgency?"
"Uh.. pretty urgent," a nervous sounding clone responded, "Commander Wolffe asked me to call. He's worried about one of the colonists down here- a young woman."
The medic paused. He knew from dealing with the men that the worst wounded were often found collapsed in a corner of the hanger, and by the time they were found, they were usually dead. He sighed, "On my way."
"Kix can prescribe you with some painkillers." He told the girl, checking his medkit was ready to go. "I need to take this call."
It was clear- once he got to the hanger- where the action was happening. A group of grey-painted troopers were stood in a semi-circle around the gunship- blasters out and set to stun.
"I got called," he said gruffly to one of the clones, trying to peer inside the gunship. "Sergeant Coric of the 501st."
"Yep," the clone nodded towards the open gunship, "Commander's in there with her." As if sensing he'd need more of an explanation than that, he continued. "She freaked out when our medic tried to touch her; we're here to stop her trying to escape."
"Marvellous," he muttered to himself. If there was anything that made vulnerable women feel uneasy, it had to be lots of armoured men boxing her into a tight space. "I'll go and see what I can do."
Moving closer to the gunship, Coric removed his helmet and put his soldier-senses on high alert. Panicked civilians with injuries could be irrational and use anything as a deadly weapon without an ounce of combat training.
Wolffe was squatting in the corner, near the hatch where mechanics could access the engine from inside the transport. He glanced over at Coric as he entered, and the medic had to admit that his relaxed composure was impressive.
The Commander took after the General in terms of creating a calm atmosphere.
Coric treaded lightly as he stepped inside the gunship- not wanting to scare the woman even more. As he came to stand just behind Wolffe, Coric finally saw the patient. Crammed beside the engine in the hatch was a Togruta girl- she looked to be the same age as Ahsoka, or maybe even younger.
It was dark, but he could see that her skin was a light pink with grey markings on her arms and legs. Like the other girls, she was dressed in more threads and jewels than fabric. Carefully, Coric knelt so he could be at the same level as her piercing green eyes that tracked his every movement.
She was covered in blood- most noticeably on the side of her face where a glass had evidently been smashed. She was lucky that none of the still visible shards hadn't got in her eye, or else she'd be blind, but there was still concern about whether her lekku and montrals had been hurt.
"Hello," Coric greeted in a quiet, soft tone. Inwardly, his heart was racing, and he tried to remember some of his training. Keep his hands visible at all times, don't move too fast, stay calm, maintain eye contact.
The woman said nothing, only blinked.
"My name's Coric," he shifted to show her the red symbol on his shoulder, "I'm a medic. Can you tell me your name?"
Once she saw the medic symbol, the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease a fraction, and she cleared her throat lightly, "Willow."
"Willow," he nodded, "Would you like to come with me?"
She paused- as if debating it in her head, "Out there?"
"In the medbay," he specified. Maybe he could get the Commander to come down once she was done, as Willow's condition didn't seem life threatening and hopefully another female Togruta would make her feel more comfortable.
"I-" she licked her lips, "I really shouldn't be mingling with other men. I'm sorry."
Coric heard Wolffe sigh, and he tried not to show on his face how her comment made him feel. Sadly, a lot of the woman returning to Kiros probably would never make eye contact with their male family members ever again.
Technically, Republic soldiers could order- and physically force- civilians into compliance, but Coric wouldn't dare to touch anyone without their permission- especially someone who had been harmed by another.
"That looks like it hurts," keeping the same tone, Coric gestured to the side of his own head, "I can clean it up and give you something for the pain." She said nothing, and Coric held back his frustration, "Are you hungry?"
Her expression twitched, but her words contrasted the real answer, "No."
"No?" Coric carefully rustled through his belt until he found a ration bar. It was one of the better flavours- he had traded it for half a round of ammo and was saving it for a rainy day, but he would give it to her. "Are you sure?"
Willow's eyes widened when he extended the wrapped bar towards her, and she glanced at him cautiously, "Can I?"
"Sure," Coric smiled, but pulled the ration towards himself slightly, "How about you let me take a look at your head, and you can have it? We also have caf- or tea," he remembered Ahsoka saying that her people preferred herbal teas over caf.
She chewed her lip- obviously unsure of how to proceed. To persuade her, Coric showed her the bar again- giving his best 'I want to help you' smile.
Then, slowly but surely, Willow crept forward. As she came into the light more, Coric saw more of the wound. Not only was the side of her face leaking blood from several deep cuts, but he also caught sight of the stem of a wine glass- stuck in the side of her neck.
How she hadn't bled out already… Coric would never know.
"Told you it was urgent," Wolffe muttered as he and Coric backed away, giving Willow space to stand without feeling cornered.
Coric managed to maintain a smile as he offered the ration bar in the palm of his hand, "Here."
"Thank you," Willow took the bar- carefully ensuring her fingers didn't touch his hand. She unwrapped it with the face of a child being given a lollipop, and Coric had genuinely never seen a ration bar be so quickly eaten.
"Follow me," Coric said, making a gesture for the men outside the gunship to clear out. He had it under control from here. "Move slowly- I don't like the look of that glass in your neck."
Willow reached up to touch it, and before Coric could nudge her hand away, she dropped it to her side. The words she whispered were quiet enough for only Coric to hear, "He said he loved me."
He stayed until the last breath.
Coric never wanted to die alone. He always went out of his way to make sure his brothers knew he was by their side, and he did the same with Tan.
It was more peaceful than any battlefield death he'd witnessed, and yet it hurt a thousand times more. Maybe it was because Tan was in a hospice where she'd been waiting to die for over three weeks, or maybe it was because she didn't have any close family who could hold her hand like he did.
Maybe it was because she was dying of an incurable illness that affected him so much. There was no blood or wound- just her organs slowly giving up on her until her breaths were shallow and her pulse was slow under his fingertips.
Or perhaps the pain was so much more intense because he was in love with her, and he'd never had the chance to say it.
He murmured the words as he kissed her forehead- seconds after her heart finally stopped, and maybe she heard, and maybe she didn't. He had kept talking until the last breaths- knowing from experience that it was the last sense she had.
"Are you the next of kin?" One of the hospice staff asked with a plastic bag in their hand. They noticed him eyeing it carefully and explained, "It's her possessions."
He flinched, edged backwards, "No, I'm just a friend."
The carer frowned, "If you don't take it, it's going in the trash."
He snatched it from their arms and left the building. What he would do with a couple of items of clothing and her jewellery, he had no idea, but he didn't like the thought of it getting thrown away.
His brothers noticed that something was off when he stormed past them in the common room- clutching a crinkling plastic bag to his chest. He stuffed it under his bunk- making a mental note to move it somewhere else before the next barracks inspection- and then went to the only place he could think of.
Rex looked up when he burst into his office- irritation at being disrupted soon melting into concern and in the next moment, Coric was roughly embraced by his vod.
He didn't crack, even though he knew it was the best time to do so. Rex was the only one who knew- the only one who Coric told when everyone was asking why he was out of the barracks all day and night. The Captain excused him from medbay duty, sent him meals in tupperware for the long hours at the hospice, and always laid out a clean set of blacks on his bed for when he returned.
Rex pulled back and frowned at Coric's composed face. Had he been expecting tears? Theatrics? Screaming and sobbing?
After a moment of watching the medic struggle to keep his lower lip from shaking, he nodded, "Get some rest."
Ahsoka somehow found out. There were a box of chocolates waiting for him in his office in the Resolute's medbay, and when he passed the Commander in one of the many corridors, he was quickly encompassed in a death-grip hug, but she darted away before he could say a word of thanks.
Nobody died on that first mission back. Men got hurt, but Coric worked hard and cared for them all day and night. By then, it was becoming noticeable that something had deeply disturbed the Sergeant.
Brothers moved past him carefully- like they were afraid of him snapping at any second. Not a single clone tried to hide an injury, and even Skywalker appeared in the medbay before Coric had to go looking- presenting a blaster wound on his shoulder that he asked politely to be treated.
He kept conversation minimal as he tidied up the wound, and it wasn't until he was applying a bacta patch that the Jedi spoke, "Rex told me what happened."
Coric inhaled sharply, and Skywalker's shoulder went rigid as he pressed slightly too hard. His hands shook as he wiped away the rest of the blood staining the man's back, "He said he'd keep it quiet."
"Yes," Skywalker cleared his throat, "but I need to know if something is affecting one of my men- especially, when it's the chief-medic who's responsible for keeping the rest of us alive."
Coric's lips twisted as he helped the Jedi carefully move his shirt back into place, "It hasn't affected my performance, sir."
"It hasn't," Skywalker scooted around so Coric could no longer avoid eye contact without physically turning away, "but there's nothing wrong with allowing yourself to grieve."
"There is when there's work to do." He busied himself with writing out a prescription of painkillers. "No more than-"
"Four within twenty-four hours," Skywalker finished, taking the packet and sensing that their conversation was fading out. "Thank you, Sergeant."
"No worries, General," Coric watched the Jedi walk towards the exit, feet thrumming anxiously against the freshly polished floor. He found that cleaning helped clear his thoughts, so he cleaned with any spare moment he got.
"If you want to go somewhere where you won't be bothered," Skywalker started- back still turned- before he left the medbay, "there's a meditation suite on deck ten."
He headed down at the end of his shift- unable to not accept the offer. His brothers kept on questioning his low mood, and he couldn't cope with the sad looks that his COs constantly casted in his direction.
He was almost annoyed at Rex. When he told her about Tan, he promised to keep it under lock and key. Now, it felt like the whole ship would find out by the end of the night cycle.
The meditation suite was surprisingly spacious- tucked away in the various machinery rooms that kept the Resolute going. General Kenobi probably designed it for Skywalker and Ahsoka- judging by the tan colour scheme. He'd never noticed his Jedi coming down here, and it didn't exactly look worn, but judging by the quietness in the air, Skywalker had soundproofed it.
Now, Coric understood why the Knight extended the invitation for him to use the space.
It took a while of staring at the wall until Sergeant Coric- chief medic of the 501st Legion- allowed a tear to fall down his cheek.
That was all it took. Everything suddenly caught up with him like being hit by a speeder. After nearly three years of fighting in a war he didn't understand, and constantly telling himself that he couldn't save everyone even though he tried, Coric snapped.
He didn't just cry for Tan, even though her death had hit him harder than anyone else's. She had always wanted to become a nurse but didn't because some stupid illness took all her strength. Meanwhile, Coric would never escape the hellhole of being the chief-medic for a group of soldiers who couldn't give a kriff if they died today or tomorrow.
To some, death couldn't come sooner.
He fell to his knees on the cushioned floor, sobbing for everyone else. He cried for the way Rex smiled less every day, and Kix was getting so old that his bones cracked whenever he stood up. He cried for Echo- who was taken too soon, and for Fives who goes on ARC missions alone. He cried because sometimes Fives visited the medbay- even when he wasn't hurt or in need of a physical exam- just to talk to someone familiar.
Coric cried for every brother who had died in his arms, every cadet who was desperate to graduate to be a part of this wretched war. He cried for his Commander who would probably never see adulthood, and he cried for his General who had missed out on a decent childhood thanks to the horrors of the galaxy.
The sobs racked his frame- making his throat feel raw and lungs burn with every breath. He cried thinking about his own death in the future- would it be in a few hours or several years? How many more men could he save before his eyes closed for the final time?
He cried for every time he'd held back the tears since he first joined the 501st. After Geonosis, Teth, Geonosis again, and Umbara, he'd held himself together- for his brothers.
Now, he'd let it all go, and when it was over… force, he felt so much better.