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Being a war nurse in a battalion full of lookalike men was stressful, intense, and on the best of days, exhaustingly over repetitive. The men you worked with were often great, yes, but the war zone itself was absolutely atrocious. Days were often filled with nothing but staunching open wounds and trying to keep trauma patients alive long enough for the doctors to make it to them. Every once in a while, there would be no doctors available, so you had to perform procedures that you had only learned about briefly and theoretically in your earlier studies.
On the best days, where no audible blaster shots were fired and all you had to tend to were regular checkups or a bone broken by general boyish tomfoolery, medical supplies and equipment was meticulously checked over. As you were generally planetside, droids were few and far between, so mundane tasks often fell to you, some other med personal and occasionally to others who had taken on the task as an assigned punishment.
Sickness wasn’t something you often encountered, especially with the clones’ genetically altered predisposition to avoiding illness. You don’t quite understand what the Kaminoans did to them, but they did make them borderline inhuman. Plus, with a lack of hosts, the handful of other nat borns rarely came into contact with anything transmissible.
You didn’t think the genetics could fail and you had heard of horror stories passed around dim camp lights about what happened when a clone’s presenting phenotype didn’t live up to the Kaminoans rigorous standards. It had been a major shock to you when you caught sight of a group of non-identical soldiers marching around camp in clone armor. At second glance, they did look like brothers, but the differences were just too strong.
But, you were in a war zone and didn’t have the time or mental capacity to put towards something like that at the moment. Until one of them landed in your bay.
“Hey, nattie!” Kix called, snagging your attention from the holopad you had been buried in. “Oh good!” He exclaimed when he saw what you were going over. “We specifically just got assigned a patient together. I’ve worked with him before and he’s got a real attitude, especially towards unfamiliar regular troopers, so he got dumped on us.” He nudged your hand to underline the new patient’s name on your holopad.
“He caught something, I’m thinking of some kind of virus from the symptoms. Would you mind running to the bay to take his vitals real quick?” Kix asked, nudging your hip with his.
Oh, that was why you decided to join the army. The hospitals you had interned at had been cold, clinical buildings that smelled of sterilized metal and stale air. The people who had worked there did nothing to lighten the mood either. Perhaps it was just the people you shadowed there that made it that way, but you had later gotten the chance to shadow a clone medic when he was on triple zero leave and you never looked back.
You had yet to meet one that wasn’t personable and memorable in their own special way. There was no doubt in your mind that you made the right choice, despite the strenuous working conditions.
The earth was soft underneath your boots as you ducked into a near empty medtent. A hoarse wheezing immediately brought your attention to a far corner cot where the patient had piled up the blankets in a childish attempt at privacy.
“Hello, Crosshair?” You tried cautiously, not wanting to startle him into a coughing fit.
Your answer came in the form of a miserable looking face peeking out from behind the pillows, adorned with a crown of almost curly white hair and what seemed to be a stick n’ poke tattoo of a crosshair. Huh, very fitting.
“The kriff do you want?” The voice was scratchy and soft from misuse and what you assumed to be a great deal of pain. Clones didn’t get sick often and when they did, they had the bad tendency of playing it off until they physically couldn’t walk, which only made it that much worse. It wasn’t a nice cycle.
“Oh, just to take your vitals. It says in my file that you’re a sniper? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” You tried, definitely not wanting to approach him like you would a scared wild animal in a corner.
He shot you an unimpressed look. “Look, nurse. M’ voice is pretty much damn gone. Go away so I can sleep it off.” The man was lean and wiry and you probably never would have guessed that he was a clone. And judging by the way he just rolled over, he was refusing to acknowledge your presence right now.
“Well, you’re here so I can treat you. Can you please roll over and sit up so I can check your breathing?” A grumpy sniper was not on your agenda for the day, but hey, anything to get out of medbay maintenance.
“M’ here because my brothers wouldn’t shut up and it’s quieter here.” The man grumbled. A quiet sigh left you with a small huff of air. Were clones also genetically predisposed to be difficult patients?
Regardless, you yanked on the covers slightly to expose his arm and looped fingers around his wrist before he had a chance to complain. Crosshair immediately yanked his hand out of your grasp right as you found his pulse point with a hiss.
“Crosshair, someone needs to take your vitals. It’s either gonna be me or another, probably clone, nurse. If you don’t feel comfortable with having a nat-born as a nurse you need to communicate that now.” You said. There wasn’t enough time in the day to put up with unruly patients and if he really hated other troopers as much as Kix implied, you wouldn’t have any trouble threatening him with them.
There wasn’t an audible response, but he did offer his wrist again with a perplexed expression after a couple of empty seconds. You quickly found his pulse and firmly held on, gazing back down to the wristwatch you had on in order to count it.
“I thought nurses were supposed to be sweet.” He muttered after a couple more seconds. You glanced up at him for a second and shrugged with a small smile before finishing up the count. It was reported to the holopad quickly before you grabbed a thermometer and pressed it to his forehead.
“I can be sweet, but you gotta work with me, honey. It’s hard to be sweet in a war zone when your patients refuse to roll over.” You responded, carefully brushing white wisps of hair off his forehead to get a better surface area. He hummed thoughtfully and got interrupted by a hacking cough. Crosshair’s disgruntled expression as he practically coughed out a lung was definitely not kinda amusing at all and you definitely did not kinda crack a smile at it. You made up for it by rubbing his back carefully to ease him out of the fit.
You got another inquisitive look that reminded you of a sick, confused puppy. Purposefully ignoring that look, you cupped the drum of your stethoscope and warmed it between your hands, breathing carefully on the chilly metal.
“Sorry if this is still a bit cool. I’m gonna have to get this directly on your chest and back, m’kay, Crosshair?” You asked, slowly approaching him again and having the man haunch forward so you could slide it up his blacks.
The man just nodded with narrowed eyes, leaning into your touches and following your instructions for his breathing. His skin was warm to the touch, even more so than the average clone - and they all ran pretty damn hot. The thermometer didn’t read anything horribly concerning, but this man definitely shouldn’t be just walking around.
“So if I’m good for you, you’ll be sweet to me?” He finally asked. You glanced up again from where you were holding the stethoscope against his chest and startled at his little smirk. A slight flush met your cheeks, but you were interrupted by the sound of his raspy inhale.
“Oh, can you please breathe deeply again? Hold your exhale as long as possible.” You ordered, listening carefully for what you just caught the tail end of on his last breath. He did so and you frowned at the end of it.
“Have you been coughing up anything? Phlegm, blood…” you asked. At the shake of his head you nodded, turning back to your holopad and jotting down a couple more notes.
“You didn’t answer my question, nurse.” Crosshair drawled.
“Oh! Um, yes. If you’re good, I can be nice.” You rushed, not even looking up. His symptoms wouldn’t normally be concerning, but because he was a clone it was worth a little bit more thought. If it was contagious across the entire population, if it would get worse, etcetera, etcetera. Kix and yourself should clear this patient as quickly as possible.
Crosshair frowned at your lost attention and reverted back to the blanket covered state you had found him in, turning back on his side to avoid your gaze.
“Kix will be back shortly. Can I get you any water or blankets? These cots get pretty cold.” You offer, finally looking up. There was no response from the lump in the sheets besides a raspy cough. You stifle a sigh and stand up, grabbing another blanket from a nearby cot to throw over the covered figure.
“I’ll give you a couple of hours to sleep after Kix comes in. I’ll be back later today, though.” You told the frozen lump in the middle of the bed before making your hurried exit.
Later that day when you reentered the medtent, you were greeted by the sight of Crosshair sitting up in his little corner cot, disassembled weapon in his lap. He was wiping it down with some kind of rag and glanced up as you entered, offering a curt nod as a greeting.
The little gesture filled your heart with warmth and you set down the portable medkit you carried on the desk next to his cot. Kix had been right with his earlier assumption, the sniper had caught a nasty little respiratory virus. Ultimately harmless and not a sign or anything else being wrong, but still serious enough to keep him under your care for the moment.
“How are you feeling, Cross?” You asked, opening the kit to reveal a handful of neatly packaged little golden candies. Before beginning your exam, you offered a handful to him, prompting him to take some with a wave of your hand when he hesitated. Crosshair eventually took two and moved his rifle parts off the bed to give you his attention.
“These are honey and mint candies. They should work as unofficial medication and make you feel a bit better a bit quicker than the antiviral medication Kix put you on. A little something sweet never hurt either.” You explained as you motioned for his wrist. He was quick to place it in your grasp and you could see how he visibly leaned towards you as you took his pulse.
The vitals went by a bit quicker this time. This time though, you had an ointment to rub on his chest and had to watch him take medication. To be quite frank, neither Kix nor you trusted him to take them by himself.
“Could you please lift your blacks up?” You asked, bringing forth the jar of ointment.
Crosshair broke off into hacking coughs. “I didn’t think you’d wanna move this fast, doll.” He wheezed and you pitched forward to stop him from falling off the cot.
“Hey, I just need to rub this on your chest, give you medication and then we’ll be done, okay?” You said soothingly, moving again to rub your hand across his back. The coughing fit subsided but he stayed there, enclosed slightly in your arms.
“If I take the medication…” he trailed off, head popping up to look around the medbay, “if I take the medication, could you… keep doing that?” Crosshair trailed off reluctantly, keeping you and your reaction strictly out of his field of sight.
Warmth flooded your chest at his admission and you clicked your tongue. “Keep doing what, sweets?” You asked, wanting to hear him say it.
“Rub my back, please.” He still refused to meet your gaze and his voice was a mutter, but he did use some very nice manners.
“Of course.” You said, pushing his shoulder slightly to get him to sit up. He brought his backs up to bunch around his shoulders and you switched back into nurse mode, keeping your gaze exactly where it needed to be as you rubbed the ointment into his chest. You could feel his heart flutter beneath your hand and a smile kissed your teeth.
Oh, he was adorable.
The sniper took his medication with little more than a disgusted look on his face and settled back in, purposefully patting at your arm with a look when you took too long putting your supplies away. An audible huff of relief escaped him when you sat down on the edge of the cot to rub away at his back.
The man was unconscious in under two minutes, but you kept rubbing until you were entirely sure he was under. Really, you only moved away when Kix reentered the tent. He had barely caught sight of you jumping up from the cot like a startled cat, but he still shot you an amused look.
After that visit, it became general practice for you to offer comforting touches and small back rubs. Well, unless he noticed anyone else in the tent with the two of you.
The medbay got a bit busier two days later after a small skirmish and you noticed that the sniper shied away from your attention when anyone else was present in the medbay. You managed to wrangle some comments about his squad of brothers as well as a few more flirtations over the next half week. His illness was slowly getting better, and the miserable sniper in the corner managed to become a bright spot in your day.
“Did we figure out if the virus was transmittable to other men?” You said, sitting on an examination table across from where Kix was sitting. Kix shook his head and tapped his holopad.
“I just sent you a report to sign, he’s getting better and is probably good to get discharged tomorrow morning. The only reason he was able to contract the virus was because of one of his particular mutations that presented. Considering the fact that the rest of us are exact genetic replicas not containing that mutation, it’s safe to assume that it’s non-transmissible to the rest of us. You should still be careful though, nattie.” Kix explained, finishing off his mini lecture by waving his pen at you, shit eating grin plastered onto his features.
“What do you mean, Kixy?” You asked, daring him to say what you think he was going to say.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never seen you get that close to a patient before. I’d almost say you have a sweet spot for ‘em.”
You just sighed, not having the energy or willpower to really fight him on this. Perhaps you did also get a little bit excited when you went to see him as well. What could you say? Cross was a grumpy, flirtatious guy and those really were your sweet spot, as Kix would put it. He made your heart jump and cheeks flush and fingers grow shaky. It was beautiful, the feelings he made you feel.
Kix gave a little sad smile at that and patted your shoulder warmly. “Just be careful, vod’ika. He’s a tough case, but loyal. Loyal to his brothers and they hop around planets more than the 501st. I can’t have your head in the stars when I need you planetside with me.”
It was an awful thought, but it was true. This wasn’t one of your cheesy, wartime holoflicks that you would watch back home with your friends and throw popcorn at when it became just a bit too cheesy. This was a real warzone and there was no room for idle or serious relationships. It got complicated and messy. That wasn’t something you could afford to do as a nurse. It was something that could potentially end lives if you weren’t careful with your thoughts.
“If it’s any help though, I may have a private comlink channel that a lot of the men use to communicate without any unwanted ears.” Kix added when he saw your crestfallen expression. You could feel your eyes widen and heart clench up in hope as he shrugged it off. “I don’t think it would hurt anyone if you got a new pen pal.”
The next morning, Crosshair felt a pang of disappointment as he was woken up by his brothers and Kix instead of you. He understood that you were very busy, but it seemed like you and Kix were a doctor/nurse pair. The fact that he had the time for him and you didn’t stung something deep in his chest. His brother’s jostled him around, teasing and bickering with him about his sudden illness and he felt his fuse grow a bit shorter than normal.
Tech was insistently chatting with Kix, finally persuading him into giving him all of Crosshair’s charts and bloodwork. Kix left the room for a bit with the excuse to go and grab something and the swift command not to go anywhere.
Crosshair sat down on the bed with a huff. A toothpick was swift to appear as he began slowly, achingly strapping on the 80 pounds of armor back onto his form while he waited.
“So, I heard you got a nat-born nurse. Was she cute?” Wrecker was quick to nudge his side. It stung a bit more than normal and Cross hissed, flinching away. Immediately, regret filled him as he saw his brother’s brows furrow in genuine concern.
“She was cute.” He offered simply. The answer in itself served as an olive branch because Wrecker immediately bounced back like a little girl learning about her best friend’s crush. His brothers fell into an animated chatter as he went back to his armor, hypothesizing about this mysterious nurse and how he felt about her.
Crosshair held himself back from interjecting, knowing that anything he would say would be twisted and thrown back in his face in the form of good-natured, brotherly ribbing.
Kix ran back in, silencing the animated chatter to hand him a warm, paper caf cup. The heady scent of peppermint had him breathing in just a bit deeper, the scent bringing a sense of relief to his still raw chest and throat. His heart clenched at the smell, a bit too familiar to the scent that had clung to your presence.
“Your girlfriend wanted me to give you this. It’s a peppermint tea with honey stirred in. You’re free to go when you want, but don’t come back too soon.” Kix gave him a pat on the back that he normally would have snapped at, had he not been preoccupied with a set of digits written on the cup with a little heart and a “comm me” written in a sharp, black scrawl. His heart began thumping in his chest and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the little numbers.
Wrecker peeked over his shoulder and let out a dramatic gasp. “Ooooo, Cross’ got a girlfriend!”
“I believe that Kix was being facetious, Wrecker.” Tech cut in, still tapping away at his datapad. Cross could feel his face slowly flushing and bit his tongue to try and distract himself.
“Nah, Tech. Wreck’s right. There’s a set of numbers and a heart on the cup. Crosshair’s found himself a little nurse to get amorouswith.” Hunter chucked. Echo joined in on the low laughter, but Crosshair couldn’t find it within himself to say anything snarky.
“Oh.” Tech seemed a little surprised at that. “Perhaps something good did come out of this ordeal. Under the assumption that you do call her.” Four sets of eyes trained on his frozen figure, pinning him with the question.
“I’ll call her.” His admission was met with whoops and cheers.