A/N: Heed the quote below (and possibly the first paragraph of the chapter), and beware that this chapter may not be appropriate for minors. I apologize for yet another somewhat depressing chapter, I promise things will get better, eventually. Or not... time will tell.

"It is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it." - Robert E. Lee

Location: Somewhere along Pennsylvania Avenue, 3:38 pm:

Coric wiped his brow as he fished out the last piece of white plastoid armor from the sea of red blood. Redeye's wound had proven to be worse than he'd originally thought. He was almost done. All he needed to do now was find and clamp the artery causing the bleed.

Mixer stood by the medic's side. He was riveted to the spot. He didn't want to stay and watch, but he couldn't go. The two children he'd saved earlier were with their unconscious mother a few feet away. Another brother was keeping them from seeing the ghastly sight of field triage.

"Fek! NO... no no no!" Coric cursed as a sudden spray of crimson shot across his face. He'd found the offending artery, but the shrapnel had nipped the aorta. It wasn't good, he knew the scenario; Redeye was a dead man.

Something snapped in Coric.

He had already lost Denal, one too many for his liking, he wouldn't allow another to die on his watch.

"Mixer, get the orange hypo... the orange hypo!"

Mixer deftly sorted through the medpac, until he found the right one.

"I need you to inject the full dose into Redeye for me right now, quick!"

Without thinking, Mixer did as he was told. The highly potent cardiac glycoside took effect almost immediately.

"Fek," he said anxiously, "he's in defib. Coric!"

"Shut the fek up will ya?" This was Redeye's only chance. Coric knew the sequel of events, he had anticipated the next three standard minutes precisely.

Redeye convulsed and gasped, his eyes wide as his heart went into cardiac arrest. Mixer held his brother down, the expression of pain on Redeye's face etched permanently into his eyes, before he looked directly to the medic supposedly trying to save his brother's life.

But Coric wasn't paying attention, his hands moving frantically through the red. As Redeye's heart stopped beating, Coric quickly worked to clamp together the artery as Redeye's blood pressure diminished to almost zero.

"Fek!"

The clamp slipped twice before he managed to stop the bleed. Now that he had staunched the flow, he needed to rejoin the ends before he could return the arterial flow and get the heart going again.

"Mixer, hand me the medi-glue!"

The trooper quickly searched for the wound sealing substance. Unlike medi-gel which healed wounds, medi-glue instantly sealed them shut when there was no time to do it conventionally.

Coric applied the gel to the outside of the artery and watched as the chemicals activated, binding themselves to the artery walls and surrounding flesh.

He waited for thirty seconds and watched as the lumen became patent**.

Satisfied the artery was sealed, he started packing the gaping hole in the soldier's chest.

Time was of the essence, Redeye was clinically dead, the medical scanner flat-lining.

Coric had killed a brother in hopes of saving his life.

Without another thought, Coric reached for the micro defibrillator. Quickly preparing the life saving device, he turned to the stunned trooper next to him.

"Mixer, get the white hypo labeled DIF. Inject him immediately, near the heart."

For a second, Coric felt sorry for Mixer. He knew he was barking orders out left right, but he wouldn't allow another death to haunt him.

While Mixer searched, Coric placed the two small electrodes on Redeye's chest. Without wasting another second he sent a powerful jolt through the clone's body.

Then another...

And another...

Mixer injected the Digoxin Immune Fab into Redeye's stagnant blood stream.

"Come on, come on," Coric muttered.

Another jolt.

Nothing.

Three minutes had passed since Redeye's heart stopped.

"Fek! No! I am NOT losing another brother!" Coric shouted, pressing the button again.

Another electrical pulse shot through Redeye's body, but the heart monitor remained silent.

Mixer nervously watched as the medic slowly lost his cool, trying again and again without success to revive the man lying in his own blood on the road. The man he'd just intentionally killed.

Coric knew in his heart, Redeye was dead, he couldn't save him… he'd failed his brothers a second time, and as an afterthought, he depressed the button just one...last...time.

Turning, the medic wiped his blood soaked hands on a cloth before unhooking Redeye from the portable heart monitor. He knew there were more vode that needed his attention; he had to keep moving, no time to feel sorry for failing to save Redeye.

He had done everything humanly possible.

As Coric moved to his next patient, Mixer quickly moved to his brother's side. He tried swallowing, but a hard lump in his throat prevented it.

After everything; the kids, the sprint across the avenue. Mixer couldn't help himself, the emotion too raw to hold in. Falling to his knees he began sobbing.

Taking his brother's hand, it was all he could do to express the sense of loss he felt.

Looking to his brother's face, Mixer choked, "Why? You... di'kut! You just had to stand there... that blaster bolt was meant for me for feks sake!"

Redeye's eyes remained unresponsive, staring off into nothingness, indifferent to his brother's lament.

"What the?"

Mixer paused wiping a tear from his face, having noticed slight movement, "Redeye? Coric! Redeye's eye just moved!"

The medic, who was applying med-gel to another troopers arm, didn't respond. After-death movement was common and nothing to get excited about; Redeye was dead, he was sure of it.

Mixer's brows furrowed in anger. Turning quickly he yelled back to the medic, "Coric, get the fek over here! Redeye's eyelid just moved!"

The medic continued to ignore the Mixer, as he finished patching up the other troopers arm.

Mixer was about to run over to the medic, and give him a piece of his mind, when more movement caught his eye, he instantly turned back to his brother.

"Ahh... M... Mixer? Wh... what's going on?"

**This is a medical term meaning the artery is healed and transporting the blood again.

Location: Pennsylvania Ave, two blocks from the White House, 3:45 pm:

For once, there was a small break in the battle. The droids were in a slow, but steady retreat; heading towards their large transports in the center of the city. It was good news for Captain Rex and Commander Fulton... but all good news came at a cost.

'Too many died...' Rex thought solemnly, leaning against the side of a partly destroyed home, the synthetic siding of the house charred from blaster fire.

He had lost over fifteen men; fifteen; he mentally rattled through their names. However for the 501st Captain, it was the loss of Denal that really hit home.

Denal had been with Rex since Geonosis.

It hurt, a pain deep in his chest that was uncharacteristic of the Captain who had, not only lost a close brother, but one he'd fought alongside from the very beginning.

Coric.

The Medic wasn't talking to him anymore, not since he'd ordered him and Denal to dart out into open terrain to get the injured woman.

Was it his fault that Denal had died?

What could he have done differently?

Rex definitely hadn't considered the possibility that a civvie would be capable of killing one of his men, let alone with a handgun. Plastoid was great at stopping plasma bolts, but evidently, horrible against high velocity solid projectile ammunition.

Maybe it was his fault?

Coric certainly thought so, his silence was evidence enough. The Medic however had performed a miracle, saving Redeye had been some good news in a long drawn out battle.

"Captain," it was Fulton, the US army Commander whose men had fought beside the 501st troopers throughout the city. While they fought bravely, their ammo did little to destroy the heavily armored droids. What rockets they had at the beginning, were all but gone, even their droid poppers and regular grenades were diminished.

"Commander, are we ready to move on?" Rex regarded the officer with a critical eye.

The soldier nodded his head, "Yes, we are. We've cleared all the apartments in this block. We found a lot of casualties... the droids killed," the man paused, his emotions getting the better of him, "We found several families dead, Captain, no survivors. The droids have again, set up a line of defense farther down the road."

Rex shook his head. He was rather puzzled by the droids battle strategies. They were acting differently than they normally would, killing civvies like this; and the retreat, stall, retreat, stall; the pattern was giving Rex headaches.

Something was up.

"Get your men into position, we're going to change things up a bit and charge their defenses, we're losing too many as it is," Rex paused, his eye resting on a charred children's doll laying near the motionless form of a dead US soldier, "Commander Cody will be arriving shortly with reinforcements from the 212th. Let's push forward as fast and far as we can before they arrive, I don't want to give the droids another opportunity to set up a defensive line!"

Anger was clear in the Captain's voice, he wanted this campaign over; the sooner, the better.

"Rex, are you sure this is the right thing to..."

"Yes," Rex cut in, placing his helmet back on, "Let's go, the longer we wait, the more prepared those tin cans will be!"

3:48 pm:

When the orders came through, they confused Coric, at first. What his captain was suggesting was utter suicide, charging a well-fortified barrier with two AAT's and close to a hundred droids was going to get them all killed.

"Alright boys, we're overwhelming these fekking tin cans, full frontal charge on the count of three."

The medic felt sweat beading on his forehead. The adrenaline rush from saving Redeye had diminished, replaced instead by the feeling of dread.

Looking to his right and then to his left, Coric took assurance from the few dozen 501st troopers and the 50 or so US soldiers taking cover behind anything and everything they could find on Pennsylvania Avenue. He noticed with mirth some of the US soldiers brandishing what Commander Fulton had called MARS Carbines, the most advanced weapon the US had to offer for its regular troops, but unfortunately, their effect on the droids was insignificant when compared to the Republics blasters.

"Three..."

In silence, Coric gripped his own deece tightly, anxiously waiting for the countdown to reach zero. The droids were only three hundred meters in front of them.

Coric's HUD identified Destroyers, a few dozen B1's, a couple of SBD's, and even a Commando droid; and those were just the droids poking their heads above their makeshift barricade. Coric purposely left out the two AAT's from his mental tally of enemies, no use counting what you can't kill.

"Two..."

'Fek you Rex! This is suicide and you know it! This is a di'kut move...' Coric thought bitterly, the haunting image filled his head of Denal falling into his arms, bloodied and chockfull with lead.

Coric steadied himself, preparing to run down the street with everyone else. He knew this was wrong, that this was a bad idea.

And therein lay the problem.

Coric knew this made no sense whatsoever, yet he still lined up, ready to proceed without muttering one syllable in protest. He could easily yell down the comm's at his captain, but he didn't, instead, he was going to follow orders, and face the consequences, come what may.

"One..."

This was it, everyone was on hair triggers, waiting for the final 'go!'

Coric's eyes wandered to the AAT's cannon barrels. He licked his lips as a new wave of dread and doubt washed through his body, chilling him to the bone.

'Fek, I should stop this.'

'Should,' even Coric himself could hear the self-doubt in his thoughts.

What was wrong with him? He'd never had a problem voicing his opinion to the captain before, never. But then again, he'd never doubted his captain before, he'd never had reason to.

Rex had always been right, he'd always known exactly what the situation was, and how to continue forward. But now, well, Coric wasn't sure he trusted Rex's decisions, not after, not after what?

'Argh Fek!' he couldn't think about him, he wouldn't allow himself, not now.

Denal.

"Charge!"

3:49 pm:

Mixer raced forward, deece streaming out blue at the barricades ahead. Pure adrenaline, testosterone, and a mix of stims fuelled his flight. While Redeye was alive, no thanks to the shabla clankers, Mixer felt a bit of payback was in order.

The street ahead was strewn with waste. Mixer found himself jumping over, ducking under, and dodging all sorts of battle debris; bodies of civvies and soldiers included. But little of that registered, all his world, and his focus, rested on two very unfortunately placed B1's directly ahead of him.

He was determined to reduce them to scrap metal, for Redeye, and for all the other men killed or injured in this battle.

For a second the droids were directly in front of him, the next, he was flying through the air. The world kept spinning and he was aware of a distinct lack of sound as he was catapulted forward; the result of an explosion caused by the impact of an AAT plasma cannon round.

'I didn't even get to...'

A sickening crack broke the silence, as Mixer's body impacted with a broken light pole, causing everything to go black.

3:49 pm:

Commander Fulton charged forward with his and the Republic's men. He knew they were at a disadvantage, their solid ammo wasn't strong enough to penetrate droid armor, meaning sustained fire was the only way to destroy the enemy.

'Fucking plasma guns...' he watched a clone trooper take out two droids with well-aimed blue bolts, he was really hoping the US would be upgrading their guns, and soon.

Suddenly Fulton jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding a plasma cannon round. The two US soldiers next to him however, didn't fare so well, a helmet and perhaps a few torn pieces of armor being all that remained.

'Fuck! You sons of bitches are going to pay for that!'

Fulton was really hoping Rex's plan would kick into gear soon. He had been reluctant to agree with the captain. After all, who charges a fully defended enemy head on, with little to no cover, and expects to win? But then again, Rex had said it would work.

Looking around at the carnage he felt his earlier decision was a misguided one.

"Commander, we're getting torn up! We can't continue this-AHHHH!"

The comm went dead, and Fulton's face went slack, his anger and fear becoming palpable in the face of so much death. This wasn't a frontal assault, this was tactical suicide.

3:52 pm:

Mixer's eyes fluttered open, the sudden light causing a bout of nausea in his gut.

He couldn't feel anything.

The sounds of battle though, could be plainly heard through his helmet.

The cries of men in anguish, the metallic clanging of bullets on droids and the familiar sound of plasma bolts singeing the air.

Mixer tried opening a comm channel, and talking, but only a low moan escaped his mouth.

'Huh? I wasn't like this little while ago, before I was fekking blown through the air!'

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of nearby movement, someone must have heard his moan.

Listening, Mixer heard it, a quick hoarse cry of pain. He became aware of another man lying next to him.

He knew the sound of pain, he'd heard it enough over the past few hours. Concentrating on the comm icon in his helmet, Mixer blinked twice.

The unmistakable lettering began to scroll in front of him. Aurebesh flashed as his bucket ran through its rebooting sequence. Mixer sighed, his helmet had never let him down.

Another cry of pain.

The other trooper.

Only being able to activate a short-range channel, Mixer held his breath, before speaking, or attempting to speak, "This is tro... troop-er 23-88... 52. Anyone copy?"

His voice was scarcely a whisper, Mixer was pretty sure no one could hear him.

But through the static, came another voice, wavering and falling with electrostatic interference.

"Yeah, I... I copy. This is CT-20-2826. I didn't think you were alive, not... not by how you look from my position."

Mixer grimaced, that didn't sound good. He knew he was hurt, critically, but if he looked dead to another trooper, he might as well be.

The other trooper continued, "Guess we... we're battlefield buddies, ehh?"

Mixer smiled slightly at the humor in the other man's voice.

Mixer's smile gave way to a frown, as he heard the other troopers labored breaths down the comm, it didn't sound good. It seemed like they were both near the end of their life's journey.

With a quick gasp of air, Mixer prepared to respond; wincing slightly as a numbing pain shot across his chest and lower stomach.

"Yeah, guess we are. I... I'm Mixer, what a-bout you?"

For a long time, static was all that greeted Mixer, and for a second, he was afraid the other man had died.

"Hey, you still with me buddy?"

The static gave way to a less than confident voice.

"My unit always called me Twenty-six. Suppose I never thought of... having a name," the trooper chuckled softly. Mixer, however, could hear the fear and anxiety in his voice.

"How about Hawkeye?" Mixer paused, hoping it wasn't too much naming a brother in a situation such as this, "I... I knew a-a good brother named that."

The other man chuckled again, this time with a slight wheeze, "Hey, you know... I think, I think I like that. Hawkeye... has a nice…" Twenty-six began coughing, and Mixer couldn't help but wince at the wet, gurgling sounds that followed. He knew that the soldier lying somewhere next to him had a chest injury, his lungs slowly filling up with fluid until they would no longer expand. The man was drowning in his own blood.

With one last-ditch effort, Mixer turned over onto his side, yelling out loudly as he did.

"Argh!"

The minor activity sent his heart rate racing, and he had to take a few seconds to recalibrate his body in the new position. Mixer was rewarded, however, with an unrestricted view of the dying man lying among some rubble a few feet away.

"You okay?" Mixer inwardly hoped Twenty-six would survive.

After a few more moments, the coughing stopped, and the rasping breath returned.

"Ye... yeah, I'm fine Mixer. Guess stomach and tibanna don't mix well... heh... fekking clankers don't even have the... the decency to aim for the head," a sour note in the dying man's voice rang out, "say Mixer... if I... if I don't make it, I need you to find my Sergeant, Tave. Tell him I died well, that I have a new name, tell them I wasn't alone... in the end."

Mixer felt a lump form in his throat, the inevitability of their death; it just wasn't fair.

"No problem Hawkeye. And if... if I don't, don't make it, find my brother Redeye, tell him I'm sorry I couldn't be there... tell him that I... that I..." Mixer paused, before finding the right words, "that I loved him." Mixer was pretty sure he felt hot tears flow down his face, but he wasn't positive, everything was so numb.

"I'll make sure."

The assurance was all Mixer needed, "Thanks ner vod."

They both stayed on the line, not saying anything but listening to each other's haggard breaths. It was all Mixer required to make his thoughts stray as he watched some white clouds drift across the planets blue sky.

'Earth, I won't be sorry to see the back-end of this place.'

He continued to stare up at the sky, the sounds of the battle becoming increasingly slower and less loud.

'Why can't I feel anything? And why haven't our brothers found us yet?'

As if to answer his thoughts, he heard the sounds of nearby footsteps, but a feeling of dread filled him, he knew the sound, he knew who belonged to those footsteps.

'Oh fek.'

Appearing directly in front of his distorted HUD vision was a Commando Droid, its glowing eyes shining brightly as it brought its blaster up.

Mixer's thoughts turned to one person.

'Redeye...'

A few minutes earlier, 3:49 pm:

Coric rushed forward. His mind seemingly detached from his body. He watched himself fly over obstacles, dodge incoming fire, and return fire all the while running full pelt with everyone else towards the droids...

Time seemed to slow for the medic, seconds instead lasting minutes. Red and blue plasma racing to and fro, explosions and red cannon fire illuminating the sides of bullet riddled buildings, charred trees, and burned out vehicles.

It was almost beautiful, but the scene became something much more sinister when the bodies of children, adults and soldiers were added. Include the pools of blood and the once beautiful scene became hell.

Coric dodged more incoming fire, before a sudden cannon volley hit 15 meters in front of him, sending a trooper skyward. Coric winced in sympathy, but felt hollow and devoid of emotion.

"All troopers, halt advance! Find cover!"

Coric's body did as told, effortlessly rolling behind large slab of broken concrete.

His mind however was racing, 'What?! Why are we stopping! Didn't he want...'

Then the sound that he knew better than any foot soldier. Being a medic, the comforting thrum of a hovering larty was one Coric would recognize on his death-bed.

With little warning three of the transport ships swooped down in front of the enemy barricade, separating the droids from the clones and soldiers.

In that second, the gunships opened fire on the droid lines, using the green laser turrets mounted on the sides of the transports to utterly destroy the two AAT's.

Coric wasn't sure how he felt about what he was witnessing, not anymore. Normally he'd be overjoyed, thankful that the Rex had a plan after all, but then again, Coric was miffed to say the least that they hadn't been kept in the loop.

Why hadn't Rex told them help would be arriving?

"All troops, resume forward assault, finish what's left... keep moving, keep moving!"

"Bout time the fekking 212th turned up," Coric muttered as whoops of joy came through his comm. The remaining troopers relished the dramatic arrival of the much-needed reinforcements.

But Coric didn't share their elation. As he ran over the dead, one question ran over and over through his mind.

Why hadn't Rex simply waited for the reinforcements first?

Continuing forward as ordered, Coric neared the now destroyed droid barricade. The sight of yellow and green clad troopers pouring out of birds didn't lift his spirits like the other men. Running, he watched in silence as they helped the boys in blue finish off what the larties missed.

The battle was now over for Coric. His blaster would do little to help, his mission now to triage the men needing medical assistance.

Scanning the wide avenue, he spotted something.

To the left, under some trees, next to a lamp-post, were two troopers, one looked burnt, his plastoid armor was dark and dotted with carbon marks. The other man, a few feet away had a large chest injury. Coric immediately knew these two men were in deep osik physically. Neither were moving but the medic's helmet sensors indicated they were both alive.

Without thinking, Coric rushed forward, whoever the troopers were, they needed him stat.

With the blood pulsing loudly in his ears, Coric watched with horror as a Commando droid slipped around the shattered remains of a building, and in two bounds was standing over the injured troopers.

Luckily Coric was out of the droids field of vision, but one of the wounded brothers on the ground wasn't as lucky.

Taking a few steps forward, the droid leveled its blaster. As the trooper tried to escape, crawling back in a futile effort, the droid mercilessly fired. Two red bolts burning cleanly through the helmet as the trooper's body slumped.

Without wasting another second, the droid turned to the other trooper, leveling its blaster again.

Coric didn't hear himself yell out, but evidently he did, because the droid suddenly turned to look towards him just as the butt of Coric's deece connected with its face.

The sheer force of the hit knocked the droid back several feet, but being a commando, it quickly leveled itself, facing its assailant. Coric's momentum caused him to barrel role into a crouched position, his body acting as a shield between the droid and the troopers.

Standing up from his crouch, Coric quickly pointed his blaster at the droid and opened fire. Blue bolts streamed after the droid as it dove, ducked and rolled out-of-the-way.

"Fekking piece of osik!" Coric cursed as two red bolts narrowly missed his head.

With a deft motion, the droid drew out its vibrosword.

"Oh fek," Coric eyed the glinting durasteel weapon with dread. He knew full well how effective those weapons were. The injuries they inflicted were clean, but seldom survivable.

The BX, after dodging two more rounds of blue plasma, raced forward towards the medic.

For Coric, everything slowed down. The Commando's bounds slowed to a jog as everything that had occurred that day replayed in Coric's mind, and the one scene he couldn't forget, the image of Denal dying, took over his mind.

With blind rage, Coric deftly dodged the sword as it swung passed him, and in two quick movements, he had the droid in a head lock.

The medic smiled grimly, waiting a few moments to savor the victory, before he jerked his arm back, severing the head of the droid from its torso.

"That's for Denal!" Coric spat as the droid's body crumpled to the ground.

Standing for a few moments over the droids short circuiting body, Coric puzzled over exactly why he was standing where he was. Then a low moan from behind reminded him of his duties.

Turning quickly, Coric began working on the injured man, giving only a partial glance to the dead trooper on his left.

Multiple blast wounds in the trooper's chest would be difficult to clean up, but fortunately the heat of the tibanna had partially cauterized the wound.

"What's your name?" Coric asked off handedly, quickly working to pack the troopers chest.

"Hawkeye," the trooper stated solemnly. His mind was elsewhere; he had just helplessly watched in horror as his battle buddy had been shot twice in the head by the droid. Hawkeye had barely known Mixer, but somehow he was incredibly sad that he was gone.

As Coric finished up, he looked up at Hawkeye. The troopers head was tilted to the side, looking at the dead trooper a few feet away.

"I'm sorry," Coric found himself saying, though he still felt nothing, "Was he a friend?"

Hawkeye looked back to Coric before replying.

"No, we, we only just met. He, he asked me to find a brother named Redeye. Do you know any brothers by that name?

Coric was the epitaph of stunned.

'No, no, NO!' he thought before muttering, "Not Mixer..."

Stumbling over, Coric found himself turning over the charred body of the dead trooper, revealing the distinguishing painted armor that identified him as Mixer.

It was it... the last straw.

Coric wrapped himself around Mixers head and began rocking, letting go of the emotion that had coiled so tightly inside him.

He didn't know it yet, but they were only one month into the Clone Wars. Coric would come to understand the bond of brotherhood, would watch men, good men, die and more importantly witness great acts of heroism.

Although at that moment he felt as though there was nothing more left to give, he was only at the beginning.

"Thanks to my undeniably fantastic Clone Wars sage who painstakingly edited and re-edited this chapter until it was where it needed to be. Without her unfailing ability to read between the lines and inside my mind none of this would be possible. The time differences between the US and Australia add to the degree of difficulty in communicating and I rest well knowing that she is covering my skinny shebs instead of doing housework and writing her own story. Ms CT-782, you're quite possibly, the ultimate woman!"

This statement brought to you by SlySenran0408 and Ms CT-782, formally known as Unknown Beta.

A/N: Thanks for reading, a quick side note before anything else. Hawkeye is a name submitted by one of my readers. For the person who suggested the name, Hawkeye will appear in later chapters. As to everyone else's suggested character names, they will appear as the story progresses as well.

So with that said, this chapter catches us up in regards to Rex and the battle for Washington D.C. Next up, Tens and his brothers join the battle in the last push into the very heart of Washington, and we'll also get a glimpse on how the air battles are going.

So, tell me what you think... good-bad-ugly, let me know, please review.

I am truly sorry for the long wait, but there's not too much I can do, it seems Darth Real Life has had last laugh. But I'm not going down without a fight, its summer now, and while I do have a rather interesting new job, I do hope to spend more time writing this story.

Warm regards,

-Sly