Through the Eyes of Sergeant-Medic Coric

"I need a favor."

Coric wasn't sure she understood the meaning of those words, the depth they ran, just how serious they could be. He also wasn't sure just what the captain had explained to her, and if he should be the one to continue the education the captain was grudgingly determined to give her.

Her voice came through the door of the medbay before she did, and he stood at her entrance. "How can I help you, commander?"

His eyes swept over her form even as she turned to him with a smile, cataloguing all injuries, treated and not, older and more recent. Her skin and montrals were littered with plenty of small burns and scratches—some covered with bacta adhesive, some not—and one wrist was wrapped in a make-shift brace. She was well enough, then; as well as she could be in the middle of a campaign with dwindling supplies.

"Nothing too crazy. Just, well," she trailed off, eyes darting to the side in a gesture he was certain she wasn't aware of. It was a look he'd seen often enough, back on Kamino and on shiny's who were worried the aiwha-bait were still watching. She was hiding something from someone, and wanted to pull him into the conspiracy.

He bit back a sigh, unable to decide if he was flattered she trusted him enough to let him in on the secret, or irritated she was putting him in the middle of it. "Yes, commander?" He prompted when she still hadn't continued.

Ruddy orange cheeks turned darker with an embarrassed blush. "Sorry, Coric. Got a little distracted. Had to make sure he was far enough away."

Coric took the bit of information and added it to what he was slowly gathering. Something she's hiding from the general.

She still didn't say anything, fingers tapping rapidly against her leg, eyes continuously darting to the entrance of the makeshift medbay. Coric was patient, though, and he waited in polite silence, and finally she cracked. "I need an examination." She stopped again.

"That was part of my training, commander." He tried for humor, knowing she would appreciate it, and got a bright smile in response.

"Right. Um," she paused and took a deep breath, "it'smybreasts." She spit the words out in half a breath, but Coric understood her perfectly.

He blinked once, cheeks starting to heat in a light blush. "May I ask why, commander?"

She was blushing, too, but was, it seemed, determined to see this through. "I got hit by some debris in my chest and it's badly bruised and it hurts to breathe. So," she shrugged sheepishly, "not really breasts? More chest, I think?" The last two sentences ended as questions, and Coric smiled slightly.

She was just clueless, it seemed, in medical happenings. Then he remembered the words that had prompted this entire conversation. "Why is this a favor?" It came out warier than he'd intended.

She scuffed one dirty boot against the ground. "If my master found out, he'd send me away, and if Rex found out, he'd do that, too. And Kix is too," she paused, searching for the word, then her eyes crinkled with laughter, "prudish. It'd make him really uncomfortable." She released a small giggle, and Coric laughed with her, taking a moment to appreciate her respect for his fellow medic's limitations. She was much kinder than he expected. "And none of them can know about it."

So it wasn't really a favor, simply a friend—and he'd like to think they were friends—asking for help. He pulled on a pair of gloves, ignoring the way his face was heating at the prospect of what he was about to do. "Certainly, commander. Up on the table."

She hopped up, pulling her bandeau down without any instruction from him, also blushing. Then he looked, though, and saw the bruise she'd mentioned, and the fact the first pair of breasts he'd seen in person was on his kid-commander slipped his mind. Falling back on his training, the movements so ingrained they were almost instinctual, he gently pressed around the edges of the bruise, gauging her reaction. She hissed in pain and flinched away, and he quickly withdrew his hands.

"What'd you say you were hit with, commander?"

He pulled a disinfectant wipe from his tray of supplies, quickly wiping it over the injured area. She visibly braced against any discomfort, and he gave another small smile. So often she reminded him of the youngling she was instead of the military commander others wanted her to be.

"Falling rocks or something." Her voice strained as he started applying bacta gel. "I don't really know. Denal jumped on me and shielded me from the worst." Yes, everyone in Torrent had heard of his heroic leap onto the commander, all grateful to the veteran. Losing her to battle might just be one of the very worst things to happen in the war. She glanced down briefly. "I already tried bacta. It didn't help much."

The previous embarrassment of the injured area being her breasts had disappeared completely. Coric nodded. "You bruised some ribs, commander, and your sternum." His eyes darted to the bandeau currently resting around her stomach. "You should think about investing in some proper armor." He had trouble understanding the appeal of the garment, seeing as it left much of her skin exposed, and offered no adequate protection. If it was up to him—it's not, though—but if it was, he'd have her outfitted in some good ol' Mando beskar. Then maybe she wouldn't be coming to him and Kix so often with so many injuries.

Not that he didn't enjoy her company. She was fun to talk to, interesting, many times asking questions that lead to intriguing conversation. He'd miss her frequent visits, frequent company, but—he glanced at the bruise again—yes, the armor would definitely be worth it.

He produced an adhesive bandage, carefully covering the gel. "And you should have come to me sooner." He finished pressing down the edges of the bandage and stepped back. She returned her bandeau to the correct place, wincing slightly.

"I thought I could handle it."

Coric did sigh audibly this time. Of course she did. She was just a kid, unused to battle, unused to severe injuries. Surely, the most she'd ever been hurt at the Jedi Temple was a scrape on the knee or a bruise on the elbow.

Instead of a direct reprimand, he tried for humor again. "I know it's annoying when you can't do everything yourself, but if you could, then I wouldn't have a job." He'd learned quickly from watching others interact with her, that non-hostile, non-confrontational approaches were the best route when trying to show her the error of her ways.

Maybe, though, he could teach her. Of course, she'd been taught the standard emergency first aid, but there was so much more for her to know. That way—a small smile curled on his lips—she'd be able to handle it the next time it happened.

He got another small laugh from her. "Don't worry. I'll make sure that you don't lose your job. You're too important."

Too important. Too important. The words echoed through his head, and he suddenly wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't something clones were told often, if at all. They were clones, replaceable, unimportant. But here she was, telling him he was too important. It was the first time he'd ever heard anything close to that in reference to any single clone. And she wouldn't have been here to say it if Denal hadn't shielded her. He'd be speaking to the captain and general about getting her some armor as soon as he could.

Seemingly unaware of the effect her words had on him, she leapt nimbly off the examination table, offering a bright smile. "Thanks, Coric. Just let me know when I can repay the favor."

She was out the door before he had a chance to tell her she already had.

I had a doctor's appointment, and then I had a thought, and then there was this.

No idea when the next installment will be, or what it will be of. It might be soon, though, because I am having lots of fun with this, and it's making me very happy. Also, classes have mostly ended, so I'm starting to get this fabled "free-time."

Read, review.

Kisses!