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

Story summary: During his stay at Republic medical station Kix learns that he is a topic of many gossips.

High-level talks

" I'm not really comfortable with that. I'm not a doctor; I'm a medic."

" What's the difference?"

" Well, a doctor cures people. A medic just makes them more comfortable… while they die."

/red vs blue/

Kix felt strange walking around the Republic medical station. He always felt out of place among those white walls. He could feel the disapproving stares on his worn out armour that, no matter how long he was cleaning and polishing beforehand, would never be white and shiny again. He was jealous of those plastoid-free uniforms worn by his more sophisticated brothers to whom gun training came third at their flash training. They had the newest equipment and gallons of fresh bacta to their disposal. Their voices were quiet and mellow, people listened to them without protests while Kix had to shout, demand, argue, bargain and dodge guilt trips on and off the battlefield.

Field medic? More like a half-trained Feldsher drenched in blood with gun in his hand. Most often than not, he had to treat himself first before other fallen soldiers. Those minutes he had to waste on himself were agonizing as he was forced to watch his brothers desperately trying to reach him. He had to re-use Bacta patches so many times it was definitely not sanitary. He was a quack, sawbones, witch doctor…

"I've heard about that one field medic?" the medic, still a shiny by the sound of it, asked excitedly then took a sip of his drink "From five-oh-first? What was his birth number?"

"Kix?" the other clone spat his brother's name out as if it was contagious disease "what did he do this time?"

The field medic stopped in his tracks just in time to avoid detection. His muscles tensed just the same as if he was in the middle of the battle. Kix shook his head! It shouldn't bother him as long as his brother were safe and sound! yet stepping into the cafeteria for a cup of caf he promised himself way back on the cruiser, suddenly became a bad, selfish, idea.

"It would be easier to say what he didn't do… seriously, this guy's a charlatan"

Maybe a cup of caf was a bad idea after all. Kix massaged his temples; he should have stayed on the ship.

"I've heard that one time he chopped off that one trooper's arm with an axe." the shiny continued the tale, making his listeners shook their heads in disbelief "Blood was gushing from the stump like from a fountain!"

"That-? Why did he do that?" Of course, they didn't know!

They were judging him, while never being on the front lines. That was typical… They've never seen their fellow brothers roaming aimlessly around the battlefield, oblivious to the dangers surrounding them, with galaxy-far-far-away stare, clutching their severed arms to their chests as if they were lost pets. They never had to coax those men into giving up those limbs, explain that prosthetics are just as good as normal arms, if not better.

"they always say there are no other ways!" the shiny hit the table surface in anger "that they either have no equipment or small amount of medical supplies! That they have to act upon instinct and under pressure! So what that blasts are firing from all directions?! It does not excuse anyone to drag wounded through mud like sacks of potatoes!"

"They are pitiful excu-!" Suddenly someone barged into the cafeteria, almost tripping over the chairs.

"have you seen Kix?" the clone shouted, frantically getting to the occupied table.

"no, what's the matter?"

"the medic from two-twelve said he will be here!"

"aren't you suppose to operate on Jesse?" Kix was suddenly on high alert.

"that's why I'm looking for Kix." The man waved his arms "Jesse has a meltdown - Said it's either him or no-one"

Kriffing idiots, of course, wounded men would ask for their field medics! The troopers rarely saw proper medical officials. They did not trust them – not as much as they trusted those who patched them on their feet - there was even an urban legend circling around the troops that if the Bacta bros operated you, you wouldn't come back to the front lines.

"I'm here!" Kix emerged from his hiding spot, run to the clone asking for his assistance. "we'll do it this way-" he ordered, before anyone could respond to his sudden appearance "I'll go with you, all propped up for the surgery and all, but once Jesse's under you take over."

"sir, yes, sir!" the clone replied mechanically, there was no arguing with Kix's authoritative tone, it was almost as effective as Jedi mind trick - it even worked on Hardcase.

"have you seen that guy?" the clones resumed their conversation when the hassle rolled over "what does he think he is, ordering medical officers like that!?"

"what did I tell you? field medics are the worst"