Star wars franchise belongs to many people and companies from Gorge Lucas to Disney, however I'm not among them.

Story summary: Being a clone medic is a double-edged sword.

*(latin) doctor, heal thyself

medice, cura te ipsum*

your-biohazardous-friend

Jesse was always impressed with medics' agility and quick reaction. For him not ARC troopers but medics were superior class of clones. As every clone, Jesse knew the basics of a first aid. He could apply bacta patches, clumsily wrap some bandages and pour water on a burned area but that was it. What he could do, medics could do better, in their sleep, in a fraction of his full-awake speed record; so fast and neat, in fact, that the wounded barely even registered they're being treated.

Every clone trooper, especially ARC one, was taught to kill and kill alone. Medics were the only class of clones who, additionally to killing, knew how to preserve life. Save it.

Jesse's emotions were torn as he watched the field medic kneeling on the muddy ground. Kix did his best to save their brother's life. The sad truth was the clone, who he was frantically trying to resuscitate, was dead. Plain and simple. The body of the deceased ended with his abdomen. Guts spilled onto the muddy ground. Poor soul must have stepped on an anti-infantry mine. Unsurprisingly though, despite the initial damage, the upper part of an amour stayed intact, revealing that just as Kix, the deceased had a medic insignia on his shoulder guard.

The fallen comrade was also a medic – from 41st.

"Kix" Jesse knelt next to his teammate "he's gone," he said softly, placing hand on his brother's shoulder.

"no!" Kix replied frantically, shaking off the friendly pat, not even stopping CPR for a second. "Help me up! The third hypo from the left, upper row" Kix huffed "in the neck ASAP"

Jesse glanced at the ground. The medical supplies from at least two medkits were scattered around them. All of them already used.

"there is no hypo left. Not even one."

Kix, in frenzy, must have had shoot up the fallen comrade with so many medications that he undoubtedly have overdosed several of them. Not that it even mattered in this case. the man would not survive anyway.

"I'm no medic, Kix, but even I can tell-"

"shut, the kriffing, up!" Kix howled "and do as I tell" His breathing was ragged and shallow, hyperventilation-like, pupils dialed, his pale complexion was covered in layer of cold sweat.

It made no sense. Kix never acted this way. Something's not right.

"He stepped on a mine" Jesse tried to reason with his friend, trying to pry him away from the body.

The comment fell flat, Kix showed his teammate aside, reached to his backpack, took another medkit and tore off the sealing.

"stop wasting supplies" Jesse slapped his friend across the face. "they are needed elsewhere" Kix looked at him stupefied, mouth slightly agape "you are needed elsewhere"

"I'm not. I've never-" the medic's babbled, his cracking voice was a weird mixture of frantic panic and calmness.

It was an eerie tone, unnatural for him. It filled Jesse with dread. Medics were troopers that were suppose to have nerves of durasteel, no matter the circumstances.

"come brother" Jesse urged softly and helped the medic stand up "let's go back to the barracks and brew some of that herbal mix that commander Tano entreated from her healer friend, OK?"

"Here we g-oo!" The trooper felt something sticking out of the medic's side, as he embraced him around his waist for better leverage. The area around it was wet and sticky.

Shrapnel?

"Trix was all I had left from my old squad" Kix murmured to no-one in particular.

Jesse glanced at his hand.

"he was my friend…" Kix continued every word was spoken with a slight chatter of his teeth.

Blood.

"he was my only-" the medic went limp in his teammate's arms.

"CORIC!"