DISCLAIMER: George and Dave own the beautiful mess that is a Star Wars Franchise. I just like Kix. He is my favourite clone.
A/N: Woah, that's one heck of a dusty file. I'm not sure if it was suppose to be longer, but upon reviewing it,I think it works better this way.
A/N2: I believe it was inspired by a Tumblr post about how kriffed up it was for a medic to be designated to a firing squad (you know... during an Umbara Arc).
UNIFORM
Jesse loved then Kix could wear his medical officer outfit. Clean and sterile white. Of course the fabric the uniform was sawn from was thick, rough and the medic would aften complain about scratchy and stiff feeling on his skin. Nonetheless , whatever he agreed or not, Kix looked healthier in it. Because, well, he was – at medical station, he wasn't the one of ten medics amidst the whole sea of wounded soldiers. But one of a battalion of medics stationing at the bay. When it was finally his turn for a shift, he had enough time for a shower, decent meal and, most importantly, considerable amount of sleep.
But not yet.
Jesse watched his friend sleeping in a cot at a back of a tiny room where medical officials were dozing off while waiting for their shifts. Kix's complexion was almost as white as his uniform, brows furrowed, jaw clenched.
Nightmare.
Jesse sat next to him.
Kix's index finger was twitching.
"no-one's facing a firing squad, brother" Jesse took the other man's hand into his, flattening it against his palm "you're not part of it, either"
Clone trooper's hand crept up to the medic's shaved head, fingers tracing along the tattoo etched on his temple. Only at that unusual angle Jesse noticed a wet trails on his best friend's cheeks.
"you're OK" Jesse whispered, wiping away the tears. "we're all OK."
In his sleep, the medic let out a shaky, raspy breath.