A/N: Warnings for this chapter: description of surgery and severe injuries. Anxiety.

The picture referred to in this chapter was drawn by Jasjuliet on tumblr.

This chapter also refers to headcanons established in our side fic One Of A Million: We Have Art In Order Not To Die Of Truth

Kix closed his eyes at 14:33 to the hushed bunk chatter of other clones. He opened them moments later when Jacky shook him by the arm.

"What?" he muttered, and realized his eyes weren't as heavy as when he'd laid down just moments before. He looked at his chrono; it was 20:30. Six hours had passed. The room was nearly empty.

"Sorry, sir… you insisted." The other medic shrugged with an exhausted smile. "I can take a longer shift if you need the rest."

"I'm fine." Kix rolled out of bed and onto his feet, stretching slightly. He did feel better, though still tired, and disoriented from the deep and dreamless sleep. "It's your turn to lie down. Anything I should know?"

"Dash'll fill you in. Still no medical frigate, but there were only a few left in critical when I finished up. We uh… lost Spines and Atta though."

"I figured," Kix sighed and started tugging his surgery scrubs on. "I was gonna make the call before I went to sleep… but I thought maybe there was a chance they'd pull through…."

"It was worth a shot," Jacky agreed. "We did our best."

"I know." Kix gave Jacky a smile he hoped was encouraging before pushing him away by the shoulder. "Get some rest. I'll call if I need you."

As Kix hurried down the length of the ship to the medical bay, he wondered how close they were to joining the siege on Sluis Van. The battalion had sustained a lot of damage on the week's battle on Siskeen, high numbers of wounded due to the intermittent fire from droids ambushing them in narrow city streets. General Skywalker had been far ahead trying to take out the command center and the men had little cover. Over twenty-four hours later, Kix and the other medics were still cleaning up. He was almost relieved Spines and Atta were gone—they'd suffered long enough, but they'd seemed desperate to live, and it was his job to give backup to anyone trying to kick death in the teeth.

When Kix walked in, most of the beds were still full, the men who sat on the floor moving in to fill the space as others left. Dash was giving a trooper stitches on his thigh while a med droid helped prep another for a bacta soak.

"I'm here," Kix announced. "Report?"

Dash looked up from his work. "Ah—over there in the corner." He jerked his head, seeming frazzled. His backswept hair was getting a bit loose.

"When's your shift over?" Kix asked, picking up the datapad. "Didn't you come in with Jacky?"

"I'm fine, sir. Just finishing up. Oh, it's not that bad, soldier," Dash scoffed gently when his charge hissed. "It didn't even get close to piercing your femoral artery."

"Thanks," the trooper grumbled as Dash finished coating the stitches with ointment and wound a thin bandage around them.

"Now remember." Dash tilted his head in a comically extreme I'm-watching-you look. "Don't get any of those wet for at least twenty four hours. Come in again first thing tomorrow so we can check on it and change the dressing. That's an order."

"Uhh," the patient half-wheezed as Dash firmly hoisted him onto his feet and passed him into the arms of a waiting squad mate. "Yes, sir."

The top of the list was full of the highest priority patients, but that grouping had shrunk significantly since Kix had last seen it. There was a chance he'd get through all of them this shift, Kix thought with relief.

"That was Yahn?" Kix asked, looking around the room. "So… next is CT-Thirty-Three-Thirty-Five. Hatch?"

The blaster-burned trooper being prepped for the bacta soak grunted. "Droid's got me covered. That guy's been waiting for a while." He pointed shakily with a hand missing a finger, at one of the men sitting on the floor, his right leg bound roughly in bandages, the right side of his iced face dark and swollen with bruises from jaw to hairline.

The man in question raised his head wearily and Kix recognized him. "Sergeant Raz."

"Ah!" Hatch exclaimed, teeth gritted as the droid peeled off the patch that had covered one of his wounds. "Sorry, Sarge, didn't recognize you."

Raz shrugged. "Go on with whoever's next. I'm not going anywhere." His eyes fell to his leg.

Kix checked his place on the list. Three down from Hatch – fracture in femur and tibia, already given first aid for concussion. Of the two before him, one had very similar injuries and the other one was also in need of deep wound cleaning and stitches.

"We'll get to you soon, Sergeant," Kix promised. "Just a couple more."

Raz gave a halfhearted thumbs-up and Kix moved on to the other bed. The patient's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but carefully even in pace. The file said he'd been given painkillers twice already. The bed was set at a good angle to elevate the wound as much as was practical. Kix set the datapad down, looking at the bandages around the ARF trooper's stomach.

"Okay, Wings… your turn," Kix sighed softly. He rolled up his sleeves and put on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. "Looks like your walker got hit."

A creaky exhale and an acceleration of breathing was his only answer.

"Ah, it's okay," Kix reassured him as he peeled back the blood soaked bandages and applied a local anesthetic. "You don't have to talk. Just keep breathing."

Underneath, the extent of the wound was hard to distinguish by visual alone; as a clot was broken with the movement of the bandage, a few drops of blood oozed slowly to fill the cuts left by the shrapnel. Kix could see one of the pieces still lodged in there, though. According to the log, it was left by Jacky in favor of closing the wound to prevent extensive blood loss. He hadn't been able to work fast enough and there had been other patients who needed more immediate care.

"I'll take care of the next one," Dash said behind him.

"No," Kix said lightly, as he made his selection from the tray of surgical tools. "You are going to tell Shadow to come take his shift."

"He's…." Dash trailed off. "Yes, sir."

Kix glanced over his shoulder at Dash's retreating back and made a mental note to keep an eye on Shadow as well. He'd barely had time to check up with anyone on his list of at-risk men. They'd been dropped right into the battle on Siskeen without much of a break after Clak'dor VII, and now he could only hope that the naval battles would give the infantrymen a respite.

Quick and steady, amid Wings' tight breaths, Kix felt his way through the bloody tissues—"easy, just keep breathing"—and extracted the last bits of metal. He let the wound bleed for just a moment before measuring out some antiseptic solution.

"Okay. Now, this might sting a bit," Kix warned gently. As he let it trickle into the wound, he could hear Wings grinding his teeth. "You're gonna be just fine. All I have to do now is stitch you up."

"Gahh," Wings finally gasped as if he was trying to laugh. He looked scared though. "How long will that take?"

"I'll have to do a couple of layers. It's a deep wound… but you're lucky, you know. It was a close call. That shrapnel could have hit something important."

"Feels like it did," Wings said.

"Not many AT-RT pilots make it out of an explosion like that alive," Kix murmured. "Trust me. I've counted."

Wings fell silent. Kix took a deep breath, and a moment to sterilize his gloves and clear the last bit of blood from the wound before beginning.

"Okay," Wings said in a strained voice. "I did think I was gonna die…."

Kix kept his voice soothing as he set to stitching. "Yet here you are."

Wings took a shaky breath and Kix kept his eyes trained solidly on his work, feeling the eerie resistance of the flesh against the needle.

"I thought I was ready for it, you know…." Wings whispered.

"If you're fighting with all you've got, living without regrets, you're as ready as anyone can be," Kix said numbly. "But you're—"

The lights flickered once and changed hue slightly; the ship's comm system activated.

"Attention crew, all hands to battle stations, all pilots assemble on the primary flight deck immediately."

"Great," Kix sighed. "Looks like it might get a little bumpy in a few minutes."

"Sorry I'm late!" a voice said breathlessly behind him. "What can I do?"

Kix didn't look up. He was almost done with the first layer of stitches. "Just take a look at the report and get to the next person!"

As other commands sounded throughout the ship and all around him, Kix carefully fused the first layer of stitches and moved on to applying the second. The ship rumbled and the floor quivered beneath his boots. He heard Shadow enlisting another man's help in getting the patient securely onto a bed. It was difficult not to tear the fragile tissues when the floor jerked even minutely.

Wings was perfectly still the whole time, a model patient, but Kix wondered if it was more than just compliance keeping him silent. The only noise he made were tiny hitches in his breathing when the ship shook.

"Alright," Kix said with finality after applying a bacta patch and layer of bandages. "Good job. It's done. Try sitting up. You'll have to change the dressing every ten to twelve hours." He removed his gloves and slid a hand beneath Wings' neck to help push him up into a sit.

As Wings jerked upright, he gave a grunt of pain that turned abruptly into an awful noise somewhere between a sneeze and a sob. "I just want to sleep."

"You can sleep soon," Kix assured him in an undertone, but a part of his mind was already reviewing patient evacuation protocol in case they had to abandon ship. Wounded men had been left behind before. Even able men had. "General Skywalker and the other pilots will finish this battle in no time. How's it coming, Shadow?"

"Just fitting the splint now, sir." The med droid had returned and was assisting.

"Come on… on your feet," Kix commanded Wings, bracing him with an arm behind his back. Wings straightened stiffly and Kix walked him out into the hall, letting the trooper lean on him. The company quarters nearest to the medical bay had been cleared after the battle to hold the casualties overflow, and was now being used as a recovery room for those who had been treated and weren't ready to return to duty. Kix let Wings down onto one of the lower bunks.

"Thanks," Wings breathed, and stared right through Kix. Kix frowned and laid a hand on his cheek, then on his hand. Both were clammy, and he was showing other signs of shock. His pulse was weak.

"Alright, I want you to lie down and stay there. I'm going to get you a blanket."

Ideally, the ARF trooper should have been treated for shock at the first opportunity, but such things could easily be overlooked in the face of more obvious threats.

Kix saw troopers succumbing to shock after every battle, but these days, the symptoms were a constant reminder of Tup and when he had first joined the 501st. They'd picked him up off that mining station, one of the only survivors. He was showing many of the signs—low blood pressure, clammy skin, irregular pulse... and Kix always remembered how much Tup's hands had been shaking. Kix searched for a hidden injury but found only superficial wounds, and when Kix asked him how he felt, he had said "normal, sir."

As Kix retrieved a blanket from a supply drawer, the ship floor pitched wildly and he caught himself against the wall. Wings' eyes fixed on him as he spread the blanket.

"What's going on?" Wings asked.

"We're breaking through enemy lines to help with the siege on Sluis Van," Kix said quietly, propping the trooper's feet up on a broken chest plate they'd taken off one of the casualties. "Now just try to stay as comfortable as possible. Are you feeling nauseous?"

"A little," Wings said faintly.

"Bridges." Kix pointed at a clone who seemed relatively unscathed aside from his bandaged arm. "Can you watch him?"

The other clone nodded.

"You've got Bridges watching out for you," Kix said to Wings. "Time to sleep."

"I can't sleep," Wings whispered, eyes wide. Definitely dilated.

"Your blood pressure's already too low. I'd rather not give you another sedative. How long have you been awake? Since the battle?"

"Since the battle," he said, and Kix couldn't tell if he was merely echoing him or answering the question.

He sighed. "Look, I'll be back." The other trooper came to sit closer. "If anything else changes, comm the medical bay."

"I will, sir," Bridges said.

With a last glance at Wings, Kix exited the quarters and headed back for the medbay, but his mind drifted back to Tup. Wings would recover from his shock symptoms in time. Tup never did. He would seem okay but the cold sweat and irregular pulse would always come back with no provocation beyond their usual duties as soldiers. It had been the first time Kix was faced with such a stark example of psychologically-induced illness. Before, he had thought the Fett template precluded such a trait from occurring, but he had been naive. Tup only graduated because he had been able to hide it. Kix was certain of that; if the Kaminoans had discovered it, Tup would never have made it off that planet. For all the good that had done him in the end...

But Kix was beginning to realize that knowing Tup had been as important as his formal medical training. He still wasn't sure of the exact nature of the defect, but he now recognized it was far more pervasive than he would have imagined, a critical error in their development. Not everyone showed signs, not yet, but he was noticing them more all the time.

The door to the medbay opened, and it was a relief to look on the scene with fresh eyes. Things were almost peaceful now compared to the hectic and emotionally draining triage and surgery of the early morning.

Like many of the others, Sergeant Raz had been dropped off and most likely not moved from his spot on the floor for hours. Shadow was helping him settle onto the examination table when Kix walked over.

"Okay, what've we got here, let's take a closer look," Kix muttered half to himself, grabbing the x-ray machine. Raz's leg was already bound in a splint, but as the scanner focused in, Kix raised his eyebrows and grimaced. "That's… more than a fracture, Sergeant. Who put you down in the report?"

A deep rumble shook the ship and Kix shifted his feet to try and stand more firmly on the tilting deck.

"I don't remember." Raz shook his head. "Doesn't matter. There were others who needed more immediate attention."

"I'll be the judge of that," Kix said, although the fact that Raz was still here meant that he was right. He pressed down very gently on Raz's thigh. "Can you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Raz asked listlessly, staring at the ceiling.

"Now?" Kix felt along where the compound fracture was.

Raz just narrowed his eyes as the room quivered.

Alarmed, Kix slapped his other knee lightly. "How about that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's good news. It's not your spine… although you have some nerve damage in your leg."

"No kidding," Raz sighed.

"No kidding," Kix echoed. "The bone's pierced through your shin, and the blaster shot through your thigh hit more than just the bone. This should have been treated hours ago. I'm guessing you fell?"

"Flushing out the droids who were sniping us from the upper floors."

"I think there's still a chance to save it," Kix said gravely. He undid the splint and frowned at the discoloration of the Sergeant's skin.

"Doesn't sound like you're too confident."

"Not when my patient has a negative attitude." Kix gave Raz a look. "It's going to need surgery. Ready to be put under?"

"Better than being awake," Raz laughed humorlessly. "See you when I see you. Unless we get blown up."

Shadow had silently moved on to helping the next patient on the list. Kix grabbed the general anesthesia hypo the med droid offered and laid a hand on Raz's head. The Sergeant closed his eyes and took a deep, steady breath as Kix injected.

For the next thirty minutes, it was just Kix's hands, the droid's instruments, and the sergeant's flesh and bone. In the background, the ship's shaking edged its way up his joints and spine as he tried to keep his hands steady. He could hear the quiet voices of Shadow and the other troopers he was patching up. Once or twice before, Kix had wondered why there weren't more medics in the GAR. Considering he'd been cross-trained for general infantry duty as well, as all medics were, it wasn't as if training a medic diminished the fighting force of a battalion. But there was surely a good reason for it, as there was for anything their leaders chose. Some said it was a matter of appropriate temperament. Kix gritted his teeth and breathed in the antiseptic smell of the surgical mask.

The damage to Raz's nerves and ligaments was pretty bad. He could only hope a thorough bacta soak and diligent post-op care would do the trick. At the very least get mobility back into the leg, if not much sensation. But the sergeant's morale would take a severe hit if recovery was incomplete. And that could be as dangerous as any infection.

…

"Battle must be over," said Avenger. From where he sat on the examination table, he glanced up at the ceiling which had finally stopped shaking. "Wish I was a pilot."

Kix frowned and grabbed Avenger's head all covered in tattooed tally marks, pulling it down and forward. "Keep your shoulders back. Tell me when it hurts."

"Ghh," Avenger groaned, waving his hands in surrender. "That's it, that's far enough!"

"Your lower back?" Kix didn't let go.

"Yeah?!"

"You've pulled a muscle. You need to stay hydrated and take it easy! Don't lift anything heavy and try to lay flat and stretch it out whenever you can. Don't sleep on your stomach. I'm going to give you a brace to wear. Ice your back for twenty minutes every hour. Got it?"

"When am I gonna find time to do that?"

"Well, lucky for you, you'renot a pilot," Kix reminded him, pulling down a tiny bit further. "So you've got a prime opportunity to rest for as long as we're in space."

Avenger made a scoffing noise, voice tight from pain. "Does it really have to be every hour? I usually use time like this to keep up on my training!"

Kix sighed. "You can take a break for once."

"No, I can't!" he said slowly, as if explaining something to a small child. He made as if to grab at Kix's hands and clenched his fists in mid-air instead. "I'm too far behind as it is!"

"Look…." Kix let up on the pressure and Avenger raised his head with a stubborn frown. "Did you ever stop to think that… maybe you're taking this goal of yours a little too seriously?"

"No," Avenger said with disgust, averting his eyes as he leaned back on his hands. "I think most people don't take it seriously enough." He glanced back at Kix with a pointed scowl.

"You got something to say?" Kix leaned back with a raised eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Nope. Nothing to say." Avenger hopped off the examination table. "Am I excused?"

"Hey." Kix grabbed his arm and dropped his voice when Avenger jumped visibly. "Injuring yourself further isn't gonna help you kill more clankers. We all want to see the seppies pay. You know that."

"You know, I get this lecture every other week from somebody," Avenger growled and pulled back against Kix's grip with restless eyes. "People telling me I should just forget it. Forget them. Is that all we can do? Just… forget everyone and act like they never existed? Well maybe youshould just forget it. I'm gonna forget this conversation like it never even happened!"

"It's not going to bring them back," Kix said quietly. "No matter how many clankers you kill, it's not going to bring them back. You have to take care of yourself."

Avenger breathed out through bared teeth and glared at Kix. "Let go."

"You think injuring yourself honors their memory?" Kix said, voice still calm. The other trooper's face twisted.

"Let go of me!" Avenger jerked away violently, back toward the wall, and when Kix staggered forward with him, Avenger's free fist collided with Kix's right temple.

Bright lights and blackness streaked Kix's vision for a moment and he felt Avenger's arm slip out of his grip. Distantly, as he staggered to stay standing and held his head, hissing… he wondered why he hadn't just let go the first time Avenger asked.

He looked up dizzily to see Avenger staring at him with face slack, panting, fists lifted defensively in front of him. For a moment, despite their differences, the look in his eyes strongly reminded Kix of the way Tup had stared through him the first time they'd met.

"I-I… I didn't… you wouldn't…." Avenger took another step backward and hit the wall, looking frayed. "You wouldn't let go," he said, panting.

"Avenger…." Kix held out one hand, wincing, the other on his head. "Take it easy. No one's attacking you!"

"I'm sorry," Avenger said unevenly, letting his fists drop, his shoulders sag. "I just… I… I'm… I have no excuse, sir."

"I'm alright." Kix sighed, rubbing his head. "But I'm gonna need you to let me take another quick scan and measure your pulse." He glanced at Avenger's hands but didn't reach for one. They didn't seem to be shaking, which was a good sign, at least.

"What—Kix—I'm fine, sir. I'm fine! I just got… angry, sir. I don't know." His voice went rough as he backed away another step. "I just don't like… being cornered. I-I guess I was just annoyed, sir, because… everybody seems to have a problem with… me… lately. But I'm just trying to do my part to end the war quickly!"

Kix frowned to himself and picked up the medical scanner on the table, turning it on and toward Avenger. He could hear the trooper's stress already in his breath and voice, but the scan only further confirmed it; spiked adrenaline levels, still climbing a little even as Kix watched the display. He looked up into Avenger's flushed face.

"Come with me," Kix said quietly, motioning Avenger toward the door.

Together they walked toward the supply room down the hall. Avenger was silent apart from occasional deep breaths, until they reached the supply room.

"Uh… what are we doing here?" Avenger asked haltingly, nearly whispering. "You're not… going to report me?"

"I don't know. Do I need to report you?" Kix glanced at Avenger as he opened the door. "You said everybody seems to have a problem with you lately. What do you mean by that?"

"Oh! Nothing," Avenger said quickly, and closed the door behind them. "I mean…." He grimaced, his eyes flicking to the spot where he'd hit Kix's head. "They all just think something's wrong with me because I won't give up on my goal. That's all."

"So they're worried about you?" Kix asked.

"If that's how you want to put it," he muttered, head bowed. He sighed. "I understand if you need to tell my Sergeant about this, sir. But it won't happen again, I swear it."

Kix sighed and knew nothing good would come of calling attention to Avenger's symptoms—not until he had a better idea of how to work with it. But he was just as stumped as he had been when Tup had first arrived. Troopers feeling panicked, fighting back when they weren't in any immediate danger… what else could he do but help them hide their flaws and hope their luck would last a bit longer?

"As long as you take care of yourself, I don't see any reason to report this." Kix removed a back brace from a crate and glanced at Avenger. "Besides… whether I agree with your goal or not, following my orders will help you be able to keep at it longer. So no lifting, alright? If you're gonna train, stretch beforehand and make it the light guns. No hard impact exercises. And…." He took a deep breath as he offered the brace to Avenger. "Do me a favor and don't mouth off or pull a stunt like that around your commanding officers. Rex wouldn't have stood for it and I doubt Commander Appo will either."

Avenger's face twitched as Kix helped him tighten the brace around his middle. "Yes, sir. Sorry. I just…."

Kix felt heat spreading in his stomach again, and he made himself wait, hoping that Avenger was about to talk. He cast around for an appropriate prompt.

"You just… feel…." At the third word, Kix felt like something was sitting right at the back of his throat, a weight that kept him from thinking, much less saying, whatever he was sure they both felt.

Avenger shook his head sharply, eyes averted. "Fine, sir. I'll take care of my back. Am I free to go?"

Kix nodded.

"Tell me if it gets worse," he murmured at the back of Avenger's head as he walked out of the room. The trooper's steps slowed for just a moment before he hurried away.

When Kix went back to the medical bay, he realized the only ones left were a few crewmen who'd gotten rattled around during the fight. The droid could handle them; Shadow had already left and Kix was over his shift by almost two hours. It was time to gulp down a ration cube or two with some water and take a break before the fleet engaged again, just in case. He felt a cold tingle beneath his skin that was all too common lately.

On the way to quarters, he stopped to check on Wings. The trooper was sleeping soundly on his back; Bridges gave Kix a tired half-smile as he approached the bunks.

"Any problems?"

"No, sir, we just talked a while. He finally fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago."

"Good job," Kix said, and tried to inject some warmth into his voice. "You can leave him if you need to, so long as someone's around to hear when he wakes up."

"Understood."

A familiar blue armor pattern caught his eye; Sergeant Levi was about to pass him going the opposite way. For a moment, Kix considered telling him about Avenger. Levi was a good Sergeant, chosen personally by Rex. He seemed to care about his men, for whatever that was worth.

Kix stood, still and conflicted, as Levi's back receded. After a few seconds he took a deep breath and turned away from the Sergeant. The only help for Avenger would come through a better understanding of what was undermining the Grand Army, one trooper's mind at a time. Until then, discretion would have to be enough.

As he walked toward the lift, the heat he had been feeling dissipated into a chill. A soldier's life was fraught with uncertainties, and that made anything steady and reliable all the more precious. Lately, it felt like every one of those things was being challenged. Not only had they lost Rex, but it was starting to feel like they had lost Skywalker as well. Ever since Tarkin had stepped between them with his decrees, the entire mood of the battalion had shifted. Morale was low, and even the battalion's membership was under consideration. He and Jesse might not be bunking together for much longer. For just a moment, Kix felt a strong sensation of helplessness, a loss of stability that made him dizzy. His head throbbed a little.

The lift was empty. He put his hands into his pockets to warm and steady them, and felt the communicator Rex had left him. He had said Kix would know what it was for when the time came. It didn't make sense that Rex's death was the sign—there had to be something else. Something obvious. But Rex's comm was always silent.

Kix exhaled an unsteady breath. If he did get a call someday, it wouldn't be from Rex. But maybe whoever it was would have some answers. Kix wasn't sure he wanted to hear them.

Torrent Company's quarters were mostly empty when Kix walked in, and those that were there were sleeping or trying to sleep. He sat down on his bunk with his pack between his knees and rested for a few moments in the peaceful quiet. When he opened his eyes, they strayed to a dark stain on his cuff; it was just one of many. He tore the scrubs off and tossed them haphazardly at the foot of his bunk, then pressed a hand against his eyes.

The 501st had been one of the best battalions for years, and suddenly in the last couple months, it was falling to pieces. External forces were undermining their confidence, yes, but...

He reached over blindly to his pack and withdrew a datapad wedged between vacuum-sealed packages of bandages and a collection of flimsi. The pad immediately brought up a page of the reg manual. Kix shifted screens to a file named training notes. He'd added a few of his own notes to the beginning since recovering this pad from Tup's crate just in case anyone ever decided to inspect him, but so far Tup's writing remained a complete secret.

He tabbed quickly through the pages, trying to find his place. It had been a while since Kix had last attempted to mine Tup's words for answers, but Avenger's symptoms were more than enough to prompt another try. Snippets of text passed, beginning before Tup's graduation and moving forward through the years. The last entry he'd read was Tup anticipating their landing on Umbara. He stopped for a moment to check the next page.

Umbara is finally over. I haven't heard the final casualty report yet. General Krell turned out to be a traitor. There are too many things I don't want to remember, but at least I'm still alive.

Kix skimmed Tup's dry, stilted report of the mission, looking for the kinds of hints he'd been trying in weeks prior to piece together about Tup's condition. There weren't many. Sometimes Kix found it oddly soothing to read the trooper's mundane reports, but their time on Umbara was a memory he preferred to revisit as little as possible. He skipped forward.

Abruptly he stopped holding down the forward key and shifted back, puzzled by the presence of Tup's name at the top of one of the pages.

Hey, Tup!

Sorry it took so long. That mission was longer than I expected.

Sounds like you've still got it pretty rough. I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't think there's anything wrong with you.

How do I say this…? Well, let me put it this way. I know you're not a coward, because you're still fighting. Your problem isn't being too scared to do anything. You do what you have to, just like any soldier, and that's what counts. Actually, you're one of the bravest people I know, because you put your life on the line for your brothers every day, even though you know there's a chance you might fail. That's the most important kind of courage any soldier can have.

You already proved you can do anything, even when it hurts. Trust me, you're not wrong for feeling this way. I've lost a lot of brothers. All of my batchers are dead. I had to leave my best friend behind on a mission not too long ago. There was nothing I could do to save him. And that is why I can never stand by when my brothers are being treated like… well, you know how it was. You were there! I'm telling you, everything you told me makes perfect sense. I don't think you're defective. You just let yourself see more of what's really going on.

We may not be able to change everything we want to. Our lives are what they are, and we're good at what we do. You have the skill. The Republic needs us. But that doesn't mean it's the way things should be. That's exactly why we have to look out for each other. We don't always have a good chance to make sure the lives of our brothers are valued, but that doesn't mean we should stop valuing them, or valuing our own. Our will to live, and our willingness to die for each other is the biggest advantage we have over the enemy.

Don't beat yourself up about it when you feel afraid, or sick about all the wrong things that have happened. There's plenty to feel sick about. I know a lot of us hate acknowledging just how much it hurts. But it does. I'm pretty sure that's one hundred percent normal.

I know saying this might not make it any easier. Going day by day without being able to get away from the reality of the war is tough. If you had a choice, it might be easier if you could choose not to feel this way. But I think you're stronger because of who you are. And I promise, I will never be ashamed to call you my brother.

Keep talking to me. I like getting mail!

Your friend, Fives.

Kix stared at that last line; the under-the-skin chill deepened into the bones of his fingers even as his neck and eyes prickled. He skimmed the letter again and shut off the datapad, heart racing, stunned. Of course, Fives and Tup had been friends… it shouldn't be a surprise to find Fives' words hidden here. Kix put it back into the pack, threw on his service uniform, and hurried with shaky steps to find Jesse.

As soon as he was out of the lift, heading toward the dorsal flight deck, he saw Jesse approaching. But Appo was walking right behind him.

"Kix!" Jesse jogged toward him in full armor and took off his helmet. "I haven't seen you for over twenty-four hours! I thought your shift was over?"

Kix said nothing, barely daring to look at Jesse's face, suddenly overwhelmed. Of course, that didn't do him any good. The memories surfaced anyway.

"Hey. What happened to you? You hit your head?" Jesse fell in close to Kix's side and put an arm around his shoulders to lead him back toward the legion's quarters. "Must have been while the ship was rattling around."

Kix just shook his head and motioned toward the lift. When they reached it, Appo stepped in with them.

"Is there a problem in the ranks, Kix?" Appo asked, as soon as the door had closed. "Something I should know?"

"Sir?" Kix said, as calmly as he could.

Appo's face was as unreadable as his helmet, but his eyes went to Kix's temple. "Spree was just in the medical bay. He told me Avenger was being insubordinate. Does this situation call for disciplinary action?"

"Oh. No, sir," Kix said immediately. "Spree misunderstood. This was just an accident."

Jesse was silent next to him, and Kix kept his eyes on Appo.

"Spree didn't seem to think so. He said Avenger attacked you because he felt cornered."

Kix laughed nervously. "Spree wasn't even there, Commander. He didn't see what was happening. It… it was a reflex. Avenger's arm flung out to catch his balance and he hit me by accident."

"Is that right?" Appo frowned. "Hmm. Spree said Avenger sounded upset, and was resisting treatment."

"Everyone's a little stubborn about treatment once in a while, sir." Kix said lightly and shrugged.

"Heh, yeah," Jesse agreed.

"That may be. But I hope you plan to inform me when there are problems with the men, especially disobedience. It's my duty to be aware of weak points in the ranks."

Kix paused. Appo's even tone hadn't changed, but the words felt sharp.

"Of course, sir," Kix finally said. "But surely with something small like this, it isn't strictly necessary to… distract you from your other duties, sir?"

"Until further notice, anything which should be reported to any other officer in the battalion should also be passed on to me. I'll be sure to check with Sergeant Levi about this."

"If you think it's necessary," Kix shrugged, trying to contain his alarm. "Avenger's a good soldier, sir. He's just overzealous sometimes."

"That's no excuse. Enough of our troops are injured by the enemy… we don't need them injuring themselves, or each other." The lift stopped and Appo motioned him to follow him down the hall. Jesse trailed just behind Kix, a reassuring presence.

As Kix stepped out, he wished that he felt more trust toward the Commander, not this lingering anger. It wasn't Appo's fault that Rex was gone. It wasn't General Skywalker's. What else could Appo do but step up to the position when called? Kix couldn't waste time on feeling this way when the unity of the battalion was already shaken up so much.

"I'm assuming Rex didn't often ask you to update him on the status of the troops?" Appo asked after a moment.

Kix swallowed, slowing his nervous stride to match Appo's deliberate pace. That question wasn't necessarily a criticism of Rex. "Rex wasconcerned with it. He was… but he trusted me to tell him anything he might need to know. I assumed, sir, since I told you of my… intention to do more frequent checks among the men… that no special report was needed."

"Unless something comes up which I should know about," said Appo, eyes forward. "Spree also mentioned that you seemed concerned about Avenger's attitude. You didn't mention his obsession with this goal of his."

"Commander," Kix said quietly. "With all due respect… I only became aware it could be a problem today."

"All the same… if his overzealousness is causing his insubordination, it concerns me that Sergeant Levi also isn't putting a stop to the disobedience himself or bringing it to my attention. You may not have noticed the effects of Avenger's attitude until today, but his own Sergeant will be much more well acquainted with him."

"He… he knows Avenger's intentions are good," Kix said, hoping to discourage any immediate contact between Levi and Appo before he could talk to the Sergeant himself. "I think Levi can be trusted to handle discipline in his own squad, sir. He was given that trust when Rex suggested him to the general as a sergeant."

The commander stared at him for a moment, silently, and Kix blinked back, heart pounding, trying to keep his face as calm and open-looking as possible.

"Understood," Appo said at last. "Continue observing the men, and keep me informed. But Kix—" he stopped, and Kix jarred to a halt to face him. "If you do observe any slacking or disobedience… any further problems in the ranks, you will bring it to my attention immediately. Avenger is just an example of how a lack of discipline isn't good for anyone. The old model of leadership might have worked for Rex, but at this point in the war… high command can't afford to allow that kind of lenience, and neither can we." Appo's face contracted slightly—Kix couldn't tell if he looked more worried or displeased. "The battalions should be capable of working at the same level of efficiency regardless of who is leading them. That counts for commanders, generals and anyone else. The men should be aware of that, and their responsibility to step up when duty calls, no matter what. The battalion is not unstable. In fact, the structure of it is more solid than it ever has been. It would be better for them to place their trust in the system, not in any individual. I know you understand that."

"Sir." Kix clenched his fingers behind his back to keep them still. "Yes, sir…."

Appo bowed his head and walked away.

The voices and bodies of other troopers washed past Kix in both directions as he stood rooted to the spot, trying to swallow all the commander had said. Not only did it match what they had all been told as cadets… it made rational sense. His own breakdown the night of Rex's death confirmed that much. The current quivering anger in his clenched teeth was even further proof.

It was all futile and misguided, and treasonous too… lying to his commander. Appo had ordered him to continue watching the men, to point out the weak links, saying it was for their own good. But Kix knew that if high command, if Appo and anyone upwards of him knew that men like Avenger were losing their grip, those men would be pulled from the ranks… and who knew what would happen to them then.

"Are you alright?" Jesse asked quietly.

Kix couldn't bring himself to reply. He felt so full of dark, trembling heat that he was surprised that Jesse didn't cringe away from the short glance they shared. Instead, Jesse put a hand gently on Kix's back and didn't speak until they were in quarters, seated side by side on Kix's bunk.

"Quiet in here," Jesse said, when they'd settled. He kept one hand on Kix's shoulder.

Kix took a deep breath, trying to pull away from all the tumult in his mind. If only he had a patient in front of him, everything would be clear. That was the only time it ever was.

"Lots of casualties?" Jesse guessed.

"Yeah," Kix managed, glad of the excuse as he gathered himself.

"You… wanna punch something?"

A jagged laugh escaped him and he punched the stiff padding he was sitting on. "I'm fine…."

"Do you want to be alone, then?" Jesse asked.

"No." He tried to focus on the moment of pure exhilaration he'd felt at seeing Fives' name. "I have to tell you something."

"Kix," another voice called, and Kix looked up reluctantly. Singer leaned around the end of the bunk with his usual easy smile. "I think you patched up nearly half my platoon yesterday. Sorry about the extra work."

"It's fine," Kix said dismissively, but Singer didn't move. When he glanced back up, the Lieutenant's smile had only deepened.

"You're a good man, Kix. I'm glad you're still with us." Singer nodded lightly and walked away.

Kix sat still, not sure where to place that comment in the argument raging inside him. Jesse took his hand off Kix's shoulder and shifted toward him.

"So…." Jesse said quietly, motioning subtly toward Kix's head. "Did somebody take a swing at you?"

"Don't worry about it." Kix tried to smile. "Nobody's picking fights with me, Jesse."

"Alright," Jesse said simply, and Kix was grateful that nothing more needed to be said. "Well, where've you been? Don't tell me you've been running around treating people this whole time," he gestured toward the pack sitting by the bed. "I checked the medical bay when I was looking for you, and the droids said all the emergencies were taken care of.

"I was, until not too long ago," Kix admitted. "But then I was… reading."

"Oh…." Jesse looked embarrassed.

"No, nothing of yours." Kix waved a hand. He glanced around again—no one else seemed to be listening, and Singer had left the room. He pulled out the datapad and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "I was… reading Tup's… well."

"Wait… Tup? That's his?" Jesse pointed at the pad in Kix's hands, and Kix was glad he kept his voice similarly hushed. "When did you—"

"I've been holding on to it since they—since he and Fives died," Kix murmured guiltily. "I thought… maybe if I read it, I would understand more about… I-I thought maybe Tup figured out a better way to deal with his... our... defect. Maybe… I could find a way to prevent it from getting worse."

Jesse breathed a barely audible sigh, looking worried. "You really think it's gonna get worse?"

"Maybe…." Kix swallowed. "I've been thinking… just theories, but… maybe there's something that goes wrong with some of our minds because of the accelerated aging. Maybe a deterioration of our minds… that goes more rapidly than our physical aging, and it just… gets out of control after a while. I don't know… I need more time. I wish I knew how to test for something like that."

Jesse stared at him worriedly for a moment. "But… Tup was killed by that parasite, not… this… whatever it is."

"I know, but maybe it was connected somehow." Kix shook his head. "I just have to consider all the options."

Jesse motioned hesitantly toward the datapad, his voice soft. "So? Did you find anything in there?"

"Did you know Fives was writing to Tup?" Kix smiled at Jesse's shocked face.

"No!"

"Yeah! I guess he knew about it… and Tup must have written about this to him even though he never really talked about it much, not even in here."

"Well, what did Fives say in the letters?" Jesse asked eagerly. "Can I see?"

"I only read one of 'em." Kix whispered. "Here." He passed it over.

He watched Jesse's face as he turned on the datapad, and a rush of warmth weakened him with fear. This wasn't the first time he'd had to face the fact that they wouldn't always be fighting side by side. That day on Umbara, he had been sure that one way or another, whether he shot Jesse or was executed for failing to, in the next few hours he and Jesse would never see each other again. Somehow they had survived Umbara… but Hardcase hadn't, and even Rex's luck hadn't held out forever.

"Wow," Jesse said quietly after a few minutes. "Is there more? There is! Unbelievable…! I never thought we'd hear anything from him again."

"Yeah…."

Kix thought of Jesse's poetry and Hardcase's art. Now there was Tup's journal and Fives' letters… but what would he leave behind if he died? Medical logs. Just his records of others. Jesse would have to remember him through the possessions of others hidden in his medpack. And there was Rex's comm he had promised to hold onto.

He watched Jesse's expression change slightly as he read, the tiny smile on his face growing, then fading to bitter-sweetness. A desperate resolve to carry on rose in Kix. He had to survive as long as possible. If his deficiency eventually got him killed, he could at least fight his hardest to end the war before then… make sure to see his brothers safely to the other side.

"Attention: all troops, report to your stations. The Tenacitywill land on Sluis Van in approximately one hour."

"Guess I'll have to read the rest later," Jesse sighed reluctantly. "I can't believe you had this the whole time!"

"Sorry." Kix grimaced. "I thought about telling you, but…."

"Ah, it's alright." Jesse smacked Kix's knee softly. "You did tell me, just now."

"Well… I had to, when I figured out Fives was… writing to him like that. I mean…."

Jesse put the pad down, reached into the medpack and furtively pulled the hidden packet of flimsi to his chest. He half-unfolded the pages of poetry and slid out the battered photograph that was pressed between.

A soft laugh pulled Jesse's worried face into a grin. "I forgot about that. I'm the only one actually looking at the camera. Here, look!" He held the photo out. "I wonder how he found that old booth. That was our first leave on Coruscant, right?"

"Yeah," Kix sighed.

Hardcase had an arm around each of their necks, eyes screwed shut in a huge grin as he gave a thumbs up. Jesse was smiling broadly at the camera, while Kix's younger self pulled Hardcase's arm away from his face, laughing through gritted teeth. He'd seen it two dozen times at least.

"Yeah, always trust Hardcase for a laugh," Jesse said wistfully as he slipped the whole package back into its hiding place. "I wonder what he'd say if he was still around."

"I dunno." Kix swallowed and realized he really didn't know. "Something nobody's expecting."

"Heh. Yeah."

"Have you written anything lately?" Kix tried to change the subject.

"Eh, nothing good. I wrote three pages of stuff and then erased all of it. Twice. Anyway, I better go get ready."

"Hey, Jesse," Kix said, standing with him. "When we get back to Coruscant… let's do something fun, okay?"

Jesse mimicked Hardcase's grin and thumbs-up from the photo. Kix laughed abruptly, more from gut-wrenching surprise than anything.

"Take it easy, Kix," Jesse said, with a sadder, more Jesse-ish smile. "I'll see you on the surface." He put on his helmet, gripped Kix's shoulder, and turned to go.

Kix sat back down on the bed, heaved a huge sigh and picked up the pad where Jesse had left it. It was still open to one of Fives' letters.

You're not the only one. We are trained to know how to survive, but it's always been my brothers who make life worth it. Master Shaak Ti told me when I was a cadet that the individual and the group are the same. To solve your own problems, you have to be looking out for your brothers, too. I didn't always know what she meant by that, but I think I figured it out.

If we didn't care about each other, it wouldn't be as hard when we lose our friends. But if we didn't care about our friends, we wouldn't have any will to fight. If we care about all of our brothers, we'll stick to the mission even in the face of death, and we'll keep fighting no matter what, because they're counting on us. The trick is to realize that every single trooper out there is fighting just as hard as you are to stay alive. And having a friend helps me to remember that. It could be seen as a weakness, sure. But it's also what keeps me moving forward every day.

…

A/N: Comments are our life's blood! Each and every one makes us so happy. If you love this, let us know! Don't forget to check out the "ltfad" account on tumblr for "behind the scenes" info and art.