Chapter 18

"Patch me up quick and give me a shot of something strong. We haven't finished here." I said as the Pack secured the area around us. "Take Headfirst to the triage, and come back. I have a feeling this will get even uglier before it gets any better."

I felt their unease, and I understood why. Both my ears were bleeding and I had a pretty nasty burn on my shoulder. But none of that mattered right now. I was still able bodied, and other than discomfort and a little pain, there wasn't much that would hinder me. Had it been more serious, the Medic would have taken over and ordered me back to the medical triage. But it hadn't, and we still had an objective to achieve.

"I swear Ma'am, you Jedi are made of tough stuff." He said as he gave me a bacta shot on the neck. "But please be careful, if given the opportunity, things often get worse."

I turned to my left to smile at him. I couldn't see his face because of the helmet but it was pretty clear to me that he was genuinely worried.

"Don't worry about me, trooper," I said as I stood up slowly. "It takes more than a little fire to take me down."

The battle lasted another twelve hours, to our dismay. But at least we managed to take out every single droid in a 50 clik radius. We were all worned out and exhaustion was starting to settle in, but we managed to set up camp, make a headcount, and secure the perimeter before dusk. Wolffe was waiting for me in the command centre when I walked in. I had been monitoring and helping the troops set up tents and checking the perimeter when the squad assigned finished booby trapping the thing. The Clone commander looked tired, very tired, like he was running on whatever adrenaline he had left and three big cups of kaff.

"You took an unnecessary risk today, Commander." He said without lifting his face from the holomap displayed on the table. "That explosion could have done a lot more damage."

I sighed and took the mug from his hands before taking a big gulp. "A risk that had to be taken, Wolffe." I answered before giving him back the mug.

"There are very few Jedi, and each of you packs the strength of a hundred troopers. We cannot afford to lose any of you." He said finally looking at me. "Us clones were engineered to be soldiers, to die for the Republic. You are keepers of pea-"

"My life is not worth more than that of any clone, Wolffe. I already told you that." He sighed, frustrated, exasperated, but not angry, not really. "Get some rest, I mean it. You look like you are going to drop unconscious any minute now."

I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He had taken over the entire operation once I went down. He hadn't seen or heard anything from me until after everything had been over. I could feel just how worried he had been, how frantic, stressed and scared he'd been. We had lost men that day - almost a dozen-, we had fought as hard as we could and even if we had won, the stress on the body and minds of each of us had taken quite a beating the past three days.

"You are the one who got injured," He said, turning to look at me. His eyes said it all: He was hanging from a thread. "I'll cover the first shift."

I smiled at him sadly before putting one hand to his temple and using the force to knock him unconscious. I grabbed him before he fell to the floor and carried him to a cot to the side of the tent. Stubborn as only clones could be. I took the half finished mug of koff and started writing my report. It would be a long night.

…

When Master Plo declared the planet taken, the extractions started. We moved the injured first along with the supplies and gear. We were all glad to get off this Force forsaken rock and go back to Coruscant for some well deserved time off. But we all knew it wouldn't last long. The war was escalating every day and the GAR's forces were beginning to stretch themselves thin. We would get a week or two tops.

I watched as four troopers loaded the tactical table onto the gunner to be shipped up to the carrier. The command centre was always dismantled last. All around me, members of the 104th waited for orders in little groups, chatting and joking with one another. They are safe now, at least until our next deployment.

"Thank the maker, we have a long trip ahead of us and a few weeks of leave. I don't think I could have finished that tattoo of yours otherwise." Said Art behind me before patting my left shoulder carefully. My armour had taken the brunt of the explosion and had been all but ruined after that, so the troopers had made a point not to be too rough in their interactions in case my back was still tender. Word had spread pretty fast that the Jedi Commander had basically turned herself into a meat shield to save one trooper. None of them said it, but I could feel the shift in their regard for me. Respect felt nice.

Oh, you'll have plenty of time to work on it," I said remembering the conversation I'd had with Master Plo that morning. "I'll be staying in my quarters aboard the cruiser. The Temple's being flooded with younglings whose parents want to keep them away from the war, so I don't have a place there anymore."

Something in Art's demeanor changed, he seemed pleased with the Idea.

"Brilliant! Then maybe we can introduce you to some fun past times we clones have, aye, Commander?" He said winking. "I bet you suck at karaoke."

…

I had expected the dreams. I had known my mental health would take a beating the minute I stepped on the battlefield that first day on Geognosis. I thought I'd been prepared. I was wrong. The thing about the Force is that it's very hard to describe to those who are not sensitive to it. The Force allows us Jedi to feel other being's feelings, but also their physical responses to pleasure and pain. The sinking of the gut when you receive bad news, the squeeze of the heart when you feel deeply for someone, the pain of seeing someone die before your eyes. And the fear, don't get me started on the fear. Now imagine feeling all of these things for yourself and for the other thousand life forms around you, fighting to live another day.

My nightmares were not just a reflection of my fear and my pain and my sorrow. It was a reflection of everything I'd felt the clones go through on the battlefield. Many had seen their brothers die before their eyes, others had held them while the only family they had took their last breaths before joining the Force. The thing is, when you don't know or don't believe death is not really the end, then it can be very daunting, very scary, life suddenly is full of uncertainty.

I had yet to find a way to deal with my emotions in a healthy way, the fact that I had to deal with the weight of others' as well made everything a lot harder. Master Plo would tell me to reach out into the Force and let it guide me. He would tell me to Meditate on it, to sit with my feelings and really understand them, acknowledge them, accept them and release them. It was easier said than done, as most things in life. Healing trauma is and has always been hard. The entire process can be just as painful as experiencing a traumatic event itself. Healing trauma is most certainly not for the faint of heart. Only truly strong people are willing to face their worst fears, and at the time -with everything that was going around- it was very hard to be strong, to be brave.

The first few days off duty were the roughest. Every time someone would walk past my door, I'd wake up with a starta and with my lightsaber on hand. I slept little, rested even less. Nights were filled with blaster fire, explosions and death. Every once in a while my nightmares would end with a droid standing over me, a blaster aimed at my head. But the worst ones were when Master Plo got shot down, or Wolffe, or Art - even Headfirst got blown up by a bomb once because I couldn't run fast enough. I went out only to eat at the mess hall. Sometimes one of the boys would ask if I wanted to join them for some activity or other, but in the state that I was in, I didn't want to ruin the fun for them. I tried to meditate, to keep my emotions in check and under control. It only took a week for one of my nightmares to break me. The CIS' army had taken all of my platoon hostage, and were executing them one by one like cattle in a slaughterhouse. I spent the rest of the night sitting cross legged on the floor outside the door to the clone's sleeping quarters, lightsaber on my lap. Twitch found me right before dawn when he was heading out for first watch at the bridge, and naturally, he reported it to both Wolffe and Master Plo.

I was put under observation, they didn't call it that, but I was to have at least one trooper with me at all times. I was given a new schedule I was to follow, which included compulsory recreational time and workout. It was a strategy clone troopers used when someone was having a hard time dealing with PTSD regardless of their training. By having someone with them at all times, triggers could be identified more easily, by having a fixed schedule they made sure to establish a sense of control and safety as well as making sure the person did not neglect their physical health.

Master Plo pulled me aside so we could speak about the issue, but we came to the conclusion that, other than making sure I didn't neglect my physical health and working on myself during the time I had on my own, there wasn't much we could do other than wait. I was already meditating and connecting with the force every chance I got, every night before sleep and after waking up from a nightmare. I would have to learn to cope on my own, because no one could give me a path that was mine to find.

It was humiliating and demoralizing to the troops -or so I thought-, after all, who wants a CO who can't keep their shit together? I was wasting everyone's time. The troopers either didn't care much or did a very good job at hiding it. Those who had been assigned to watch me were good natured and approached the issue as if it was just another part of their duty. What I didn't know at the time was that it was -in fact- just another part of their job. Clones were not just trained to be soldiers, but medics, enegeneers, techs and yes, even therapists. They understood they were probably the only ones in the galaxy who had such extensive training, and didn't mind putting their skills to good use -that was what they had been created for after all.

But it worked, some would say it worked a little too well. I did start to sleep better, I started trusting the clones to be able to fend for themselves, and to seek help if they needed it. I learned how they operated behind closed doors, when it was friday night and they went out for drinks. I realized they were human individuals who knew the price soldiers paid for surviving. They would never judge me or anyone else, they would even offer their help wholeheartedly because they knew. They knew. And they opened their world to me because we were Pack, and we protected each other. Some would say it worked too well, because being made to feel safe around others is trusting them, it is them trusting you, it is forming bonds, it is forming attachments.