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Chapter Text

The first thought Cody has when his eyes fly open and his body is already tense with panic is-- I'm late. The ongoing battle at Anaxes has been taking it out of everyone, and sleep is found wherever sleep can be achieved.

It took a moment for the clone commander to realize that he is not curled up in the usual corner of General Kenobi's office— the one Cody has been utilizing for his tooka naps since the Jedi hardly ever chooses to do his work there.

The next moment brings the realization that he can't move.

And the next… that everything hurts.

It's not the pain or the pinning that makes him remember where he is. It's the putrid smell of fuel wafting from somewhere that is definitely not its designated tank.

Fuel.

Gunship.

"We've been hit! Mayday!"

The impact made his bones feel like they would shatter from the reverberations, and he tried to grab for a—

Fire.

Smoke.

Battle droids...

...closing in—

"Cody!" the voice of a brother forces the commander to stop his eyes from fluttering shut. He squints through the thick smoke billowing from somewhere beneath the LAAT— a place his lower half also happens to be trapped, which cannot be good. It hurts, but not nearly as much as Cody feels like it should hurt.

While the situation itself isn't lucky, the commander is fortunate enough to not be close enough to the fire to feel more than its radiating heat. Not close enough to be burned— at least not yet. He can feel the durasteel heating by the minute. Right now it’s tolerable. The same may not be said in a few minutes.

Above the roar of the furious flames, Cody doesn't hear too much else besides the faint indication that people are talking— good, good that means others aren't trapped down here too... The others are okay...

Someone is barking orders. Cody can only assume it's Rex or Kix by the urgency in the tone. Maybe both. He's desperately trying to keep his eyes open, but the irritation of the smoke is making it difficult. I just need to hold on. They might need me to spot their extraction. They might—

The murmurs fall silent, instead replaced by a sudden creak in the durasteel plates of the gunship. Cody's heart is already pounding with the boost of adrenaline, but now it feels like it might burst right out of his chest. His previous optimism tanks, replaced by a rare feeling of dread that makes his body start to quiver.

For some reason, his mind goes to the stack of datapads he left on General Kenobi's desk. Reports he neglected to finish before Clone Force 99 came barreling onto their landing strip. He meant to tell Kenobi where he left them but didn't find the time.

What a thing to be worrying about when I'm about to die, Cody chuckles, but it turns into a cough. Though, giving the general those pads would've meant I could have said goodbye.

Another creak, but this time the ship dips harder into his pelvis. His previous sentiments about the pain not being too bad are immediately regretful. Cody's scream gets caught in his throat, floating black dots finally overtake his vision. He doesn't fall unconscious as much as he wishes he would. The pressure thankfully doesn't last, and the next moment the weight of the LAAT vanishes.

The pain doesn’t stop, though. It was like the pressure was keeping him whole. The knife ironically staying in the wound to keep the artery from leaking too quickly. Nausea filled him as blurry figures approached, their muddled words filled with worry and questions Cody did not have the capacity to answer. All her could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears droning out the ringing that had been accompanying him since the blast that took down the gunship.

Hands grab him— roughly at first, until there’s yelling and he’s gently released. In that pause, Cody stares at the smoggy sky and tries to get a hold of his breathing. In and out. Try not to shake too much. Try not to scare them.

The pain turns into numbness. Cody isn’t sure that’s a good sign, but it at least gives him the brevity he needs to get through whatever happens next.

Kix hardly has time to be amazed by Wrecker's show of impressive strength. As integral as it was to get the commander out from beneath the flaming LAAT, the medic is now frantically searching through his med bag that thankfully survived the crash.

He tries not to think about the circumstances if his bag had not made it out. He tries to not think about how he would have had to helplessly watch Cody die.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

A smaller voice that Kix usually doesn't give the time of day whispers, 'Cody could still die'. Kix has seen it plenty of times by this point in the war. Troopers in ship crashes or the unlucky times when natural disasters strike. Even when they manage to get those men out, it's a race against the clock.

The gunship is flipped to its other side. Wrecker goes to scoop Cody up, and Kix jumps up in protest.

“Wrecker, wait!” he yells. The trooper freezes, looking up at Kix, “His spine could be unstable.”

“Better hurry, Kix. Fuel tank’s gonna go any minute.”

Kix swears to himself and grabs his bag, stumbling down the impression their crash made in the dirt. Cody isn't moving. Just staring up at the sky with a fixed gaze that makes Kix’s stomach turn. Kix settles down at his side, pulling out his instruments.

“How long do we have?” he asks Wrecker.

“Uhhh… at this rate… Two minutes? Maybe?”

“Dammit. It would be safer to move the gunship than Cody right now,” he says to himself.

“Oh. That’s a good idea,” Wrecker chuckles, and mosies over to the burning ship.

“Wrecker I was kidd—” Kix starts, but the clone is already squatting at the less on-fire end of the ship. With a hefty heave, the ship goes flying, tumbling a good fifty yards away. Just in time, it seems— the moment it becomes stationary it ignites.

Wrecker turns around, pulling his helmet off to reveal a satisfied smile.

“Oh…” Kix blinks away his surprise. He never knows what to expect from the 99’s, but he is sure glad they were around this time. “Good work, Wrecker.”

He turns back to Cody and starts his assessment. The clock is already ticking.

"Kix," Cody coughs, surprisingly still coherent despite the way his left pupil is blown.

"Tell me where it hurts, Cody," Kix asks while he still has the chance. He removes Cody's armor enough to fit a C-collar and attaches all the vital monitors. Upon first glance, there don't seem to be many external injuries. He has a few shallow cuts on his cheek and neck which have already clotted for the most part. His white armor remains white. Blacks cool and wet to the touch, but from sweat, not blood. Good, good, this is good.

"Legs," the commander groans.

Kix realizes one of the Clone Force 99 boys has taken a place on the other side of Cody. The goggled one. He is about to give him a curt dismissal when Tech surprises him, pulling out a medical scanner of his own and running it down Cody's legs.

"Scan shows no significant breaks," Tech reports, his goggles making his eyes look wide and innocent.

Kix nods and moves on to the next step of his vital monitors. "Medic?"

"I am trained in basic emergency field medicine."

"Well let's hope things stay basic then."

Almost as soon as he says it, Cody gasps, and his eyes roll back in his head. Kix curses the golden rule of critical care medicine— never comment on what bad things aren't happening. Usually, he knows better.

"Shit," Kix watches as Cody's blood pressure and O2 saturation tank, the monitor beeping wildly. "He's hypotensive and going into respiratory distress. Hand me that intubation kit,"

Tech is quick to dig through the med bag and pull out a laryngoscope and endotracheal tube. It's a relief that someone else here knows enough to assist. As he positions himself behind Cody's head, he momentarily becomes aware of the small crowd arced around their position.

"I sure hope some of you rubberneckers are watching our perimeter," Kix says as he slips the curved blade of the laryngoscope down Cody's throat and slips the tube through the opening. His pointed remark thins the crowd, Rex throwing his worry for Cody into focus on the mission.

"You know MTP?" he asks Tech.

"Major transfusion protocol? Yes."

"There are some 16 gauges in the side pocket. If the jugular doesn't work, do an IO in the proximal tibia... I gotta check his abdomen." Kix removes the rest of Cody's upper armor and slices the shirt of his blacks up the center of his chest. "Sorry, sir, you know I'm only doing this 'cause I have to."

Cody's bare chest exposes a whole new host of problems. Deep red and purple splotches blossom across his hip and up his side starting somewhere beneath the waistband of his blacks.

"Tech," the other clone is finishing up the major transfusion protocol ports, his eyes flickering up to Kix. "Did you scan his hips too?"

Tech's eyes widen, which is answer enough. Kix quickly pulls a pelvic binder from the med bag. Cody must have broken his pelvic ring in the crash, which would be why he’s going into shock.

"Rex, how close is our medevac?"

"Other problems right now, Kix," the captain replies in a tight tone, and the medic looks up in time to see movement on the horizon paired with the familiar echo of battle droids marching.

"Just keep them the hell away from us. Cody isn't stable enough to move yet."

Tech has disappeared as quickly as he appeared. Now Jesse falls to the goggled clone's old spot. His eyes are wide looking at the bruising that peeks out from the tight straps across Cody's hips. Jesse is not a medic, but all ARC troopers are trained enough to get by.

"Commander's bleeding internally, quickly approaching hemodynamic instability, but I don't have an ultrasound to confirm how much or how quickly. I got a binder on him to try and slow it, and I'm prepping some crystalloid infusions, but if evac doesn't get here soon we'll have to start doing whole blood transfusions and..." Kix lets out a breath of frustration, starting to go through the motions of palpation, percussion, and auscultation to feel like he's still doing something even though Cody's oxygen saturations have evened out with the help of the respirator. "Jesse, there's not much I can do for him with what we got here. I gotta get him into a CT to see how bad the bleeding is. If he managed to sever any of the major vessels I don't think—"

"Woah woah woah, there Kix," Jesse reaches over to put a hand on the medic's shoulder. "We all know you're taking good care of Cody and doin' all you can." The ARC's gaze flickers to the sound and light show of blaster fire on the other side of the canyon. Looks like Clone Force 99 has taken control of things while Jesse and Rex stay back to guard their man down. Jesse meets his eyes again with sympathy and understanding. "You think we can rig something to move him once the four-man army is finished?"

Kix sighs, sitting back on his heels as he finishes the respiratory triage. "If I can get him stable with the infusions, we can backboard him. Only if we need to move him, though."

"We'll have to," it's Rex who speaks this time with his expert eyes scanning the canyon that surrounds them and the pillar of smoke from the on-fire gunship. "Our position is compromised as it is and the Seppies will be sending reinforcements."

"How much time I got?" Kix is already moving to start the first round of infusions. Jesse clears out of his way.

"ASAP, buddy. I'll get the boys to find a makeshift backboard."

Kix begins the infusion of the crystalloid fluid to try and get Cody's blood volume up. His pressure is still low, but most stable since he put the pelvic binder on. The fact that the measure worked is both a relief and a new stress in the back of the medic's mind. The bleeding is definitely happening there, and there is a lot that could go wrong. Too much.

The medic has reached the end of the line of things he can do now. All he do is wait and hope that Cody's vitals come up enough before another platoon of clankers descends on their vulnerable position. He brushes away the soot from his commander's cheek. It only makes him look paler. Closer to what Kix fears deep down— the tube down his throat isn't helping that mental image.

It's ironic how Kix used to get nervous about treating his commanding officers because he was afraid he'd have to pull med bay rank. Now, the queasiness in his stomach, as he looks at the Marshall Commander, is out of fear that he won't get the chance to put on his best stony face and scold him into compliance.

"Come on, Cody," Kix pleads under his breath. The commander's pressure is still dropping. Someone calls out about finding a piece of the wreckage that would work as a backboard. Another suggests a place a little ways up with better cover they could go to. He's not ready, he needs more time, Kix wants to yell. He grabs Cody's hand instead. "Keep fighting, commander."

Rex keeps his helmet on as Cody is carefully transferred from the ground to a piece of scrap durasteel Wrecker peeled off the crashed LAAT wing. He keeps it on as they trek through the carnage Clone Force 99 caused upon the attack battalion of battle droids. It stays on even when they reach cover.

He'd rather not let the others see the dread he knows is written plainly across his features.

Kix was able to stabilize Cody enough for him to be moved, but Rex can see the way the medic is hovering. He refused to help with the transport so both hands could be free.

"Just in case," Kix had said.

Rex was tempted to ask just in case of what? But good sense and way too much experience with wounded has taught him to never ask what worse-case scenarios fester in the haunted minds of field medics.

It's only when the others have gathered by the fire and he's shielded beneath the shade of a leafy tree that Rex finally removes his bucket and settles down next to Cody's still form.

It was only this morning that Cody caught the tail end of his melancholy. "Sometimes in war, it's hard to be the one that survives," the commander had said, speaking from his own extensive experience.

This morning they were reminiscing on the brothers they had lost. Now Cody lays with a tube down his throat.

Rex isn't ready to be the only one who survives from that holo of him, Cody, Fives, and Echo.

"Hang in there, Cody," Rex says softly, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. He recoils in surprise. Cody is shaking, a sheen of cold sweat covering his skin. The captain staggers up, calling Kix over with as little panic as he can manage.

"What is it?" the medic asks as he falls to Cody's side and starts checking all of the commander's IVs and monitors.

"He's shaking and cold and—"

"In shock," Kix mutters, tucking the blanket lying over Cody a little tighter around his body. "I know."

Rex's stomach sinks. "You know?"

Kix sighs, organizing the array of tubes and wires attached to their fallen brother in lieu of actually making eye contact with Rex.

"Already took some units from Jesse and myself. If Cody is this late into shock, I should start the first transfusion," Kix pulls two pouches of dark red blood from his bag. Finally, he looks at Rex. The exhaustion and dread that matches Rex's own is alarming to see on the face of their best medic. "Please tell me the medevac gave an ETA."

"All I know is it'll be soon, Kix."

That ignites the characteristic fire Rex is used to seeing in Kix's eyes.

"Soon? Do they mean soon as on their way? Or is the same soon as: Cody will die soon if I can't get him into a CT, and probably emergency surgery to stop this bleeding," Rex crouches down to squeeze Kix's shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I just don't want..."

"You've seen the worst of this war, brother. It's hard for me to even see Cody like this. I can't imagine having to treat him, too. Don't feel like you have to hold back what you're feeling. Not right now. Not with me."

The fire fades back into solemnness. Kix finishes hanging the unit of blood and tilts his head back to rest against Rex's shoulder bell. The captain is reminded of the first time he met Kix as a shiny. A kid filled to the brim with righteous fury and impressive confidence. He still holds those qualities— especially the confidence— but the war has dimmed him. The same way it's muted most of the men by now.

"I'll feel better once he isn't strapped to a damn LAAT wing."

Rex has a feeling that only scratches the surface of Kix's worries. He doesn't push it, though. Just gives him another supportive squeeze.

Kix thinks he might cry when the med shuttle appears across the horizon.

Cody is on the last unit of blood Kix was able to take before the others headed out. After Tech confirmed Clone Force 99's blood types were the same and wouldn't put Cody into hemolytic shock on top of his hypovolemic shock, Wrecker volunteered himself as a donor. His greater body mass meant a single unit would be a drop in the bucket.

So far, it's worked. Cody's pressure is still low but holding. He even woke up a few times. Only for a few seconds, and he spent most of it fighting against the intubation-- Kix would have removed it if he didn't know for a fact the commander was headed into surgery the moment they reached the med center.

Clone Force 99's willingness to help was an olive branch of sorts after a spat that nearly turned to a brawl. Kix can't say he particularly likes the attitudes of Clone Force 99. They're effective in battle, yes, but he'd be satisfied never accompanying another mission of theirs anytime soon. Say what you will about them, but they do care about Commander Cody despite their frequent sneers about "regs".

It's a story Kix will have to ask about another time. When Cody wakes up. Because he will wake up.

Chapter Text

Kix can see the camp in the distance.

“Almost there, Cody,” he whispers, placing his hand on Cody’s wrist. To his horror, the medic realizes he isn’t shivering anymore. That would be good news if Cody’s lips weren’t a sickly shade of gray.

Anxiety riddles Kix as the ship starts its landing sequence. He goes through his mental checklist of potential injuries they need to address and his worry grows. The ship shuttered as it touches down. Kix squeezes Cody’s wrist.

“You’re about to be very popular, sir.”

The once quiet hum of flight is suddenly replaced with boots pounding on the durasteel floor. A full team of medics appear and Kix dives into the briefing.

“Man down is Cody. Crush injuries to the pelvis. Signs of hypovolemic shock, and moderate hypothermia. Pupils are uneven. Coma score, eight. Airway was compromised, but has held steady with intubation,” They load Cody onto their stretcher, trading out some of the field equipment to better quality instruments. Cody’s vitals blink in red on the screen, making Kix’s heart rate soar. He swallows hard. “We got IO port access and did a whole blood transfusion in the field and threw every bit of fluid we had in ‘em and—”

“And you did good, Kix,” a familiar voice pipes up behind him. He turns to find the 212th’s chief medical officer keeping in step right behind him. They lock eyes, and Arty nods. “You did everything you could. Now it’s our turn.”

It takes Kix a minute to realize what Arty means. As they reach the medbay, Arty grabs him by the elbow and holds him back. Kix’s fist clenches— a warning that Arty either doesn’t see or chooses to ignore.

“Let me go, Art.”

“You know damn well there’s 101 reasons I can’t let you in that room right now.”

“Sir—”

“How long’ve you been awake?”

“That’s not the—”

“It’s exactly the point,” Arty stares him down, releasing his arm. “Go back to barracks. Eat. Process. At least clean yourself up so you don’t give the scrub techs an excuse to throw you in the autoclave.”

He did have a point. Kix was a walking infection risk. Begrudgingly, he steps away from the trauma room where he can hear orders of warmed saline and numerous scans being ordered.

“I’m worried about his kidneys, sir,”

“I am too. They’ve already started aggressive fluid resuscitation. We’ll know more when his labs come back.”

“And his head. Did you see—”

“Kix,” Arty’s look softens. “The longer I’m standing here, the less I’m lookin’ at Cody.”

“Right, right,” Kix backs up and starts heading toward the barracks. He looks back once, and Arty is already gone— his voice booming through the trauma room as the door slides shut.

Kix walks to the barracks in a haze. A few brothers try to stop and speak to him, but he just keeps walking. Every part of him is numb. Kix falls into the unconscious ritual of stripping off his armor. He stands under the water of his shower in a haze. Barely washing anything. Just watching the dirt and dried bits of blood wash down the drain. He doesn’t realize it turned cold ages ago until he wraps his freezing flesh in a towel.

He dresses.

Downs a tasteless ration that sits in his stomach like a rock.

Tries to lie down and rest but he’s too wired for sleep.

After maybe half an hour of unsuccessful tossing and turning, Kix gives up. He throws on a fresh pair of off-duty fatigues so Arty won’t throw him out for not sleeping. Kix just wants to see how Cody is doing.

Arty has a mental running list as he looks through each scan.

Cody's pelvis is split like an open book. That’s one problem to be fixed.

The break damaged a rather important vein— problem number two— as well as his bladder judging from the blood coming out of his catheter.

Three.

Arty was hoping the bleed had slowed, but Cody’s declining blood pressure told a different story.

He puts in the orders for emergency surgery. Stares at the head and neck scans as he scrubs. The fact he just seems to have a mild concussion and no evidence of bleeding is a fucking miracle. The stability of his lower spine is another story completely, but there aren't immediate signs of spinal instability for them to address. What’s more worrisome is the swelling that may require some decompression down the line, but none of that will matter if Cody's blood supply is running loose in his abdomen. 

After double and triple checking Cody’s pelvis is stable in the external stabilizer, Arty makes an incision down the midline, clamping back the layers of skin, fat, fascia, and muscle just outside the peritoneum— the floor is quickly covered in crimson as the blood and other fluids pour over faster than the suction can catch it. Arty tries not to think about how different things could have been if he hadn’t received those transfusions in the field or wasn’t put in a pelvic binder. He retracts the beat-up-looking bladder and starts to place the sponges along the pelvic vessels.

“Blood pressure?”

“Hypotensive still, but holding.”

“Good. Have another unit prepped in case it starts to drop.”

The bleeding seemed to be under control for the time being. With Cody already open, he quickly takes a look at the bladder.

“Injury is extraperitoneal, which is good news,” Arty says with a relieved sigh. “Grade two laceration— barely two centimeters long. I can repair it before we close.”

“We’re closing?” the assisting medic asked.

“First major trauma?” he asks, eyeing the lack of worry lines around the medic’s eyes.

“Yessir,” he says.

“That’s okay, gotta learn sometime. Name?”

“Fracture,” the shiny shifted bashfully. “I, uh, broke my leg as a cadet.”

“Hey, Fracture is a cooler name than Artery.”

“Who’s that, sir?”

Arty smiles as he continued the bladder repair. “What do you think Arty is short for, kid?”

“Oh…”

“As for your question— Cody’s body can’t take too much in this condition. We’ve put pressure on the bleeding so his body has a chance to heal itself. We’ll watch. Wait. Pump him full of meds to keep the infection away. Regroup when he’s stable. That’s trauma surgery, kid.”

Arty finishes the bladder repair and starts the temporary closure with a simple running suture through the internal layer of fascia. He hands a wide-eyed Fracture the stapler once he’s done.

“Want to close your first trauma?”

“I-uh-yessir— thank you, sir.”

“Doesn’t have to be perfect. Those will be coming out as soon as we can manage.”

Arty goes to scrub out. He isn’t surprised to find Kix sitting on the floor outside of the scrub room.

“We did a preperitoneal pelvic pack,” Arty says before Kix notices he’s there, making the dutiful medic jump. He’s soon on his feet, looking at Arty with anticipation. The exhaustion behind Kix’s eyes and the sluggishness of his movements aren’t lost on the observant medic, but he chooses to pick that battle later. “Fixed up his bladder while we were in there. His pressure was starting to go back up, which is good news.”

“Close and reassess?” Kix asks.

“Pretty much.”

“His head?”

That was also the part on Arty’s mind.

“His glucose and blood pressure were low, but intubation is keeping his oxygen in check. Once his pressure is up, we’ll repeat the neuro exam. I have a feeling his coma score will be higher. Scans didn’t show bleeds, breaks, or infarcts.”

Kix’s shoulders relax. Arty dries his hands and approaches the weary medic.

“He’s not out the woods, but he’s doing well all things considered.”

“Can I sit with him when he comes out?”

Arty throws his arm across Kix’s shoulders and starts walking toward where Cody’s room will be.

“Sure, Kix.”

Cody is a mess of tubes, wires, and ports, but his blood pressure is within normal ranges six hours post-op. Arty counts that as a small victory. Cody even regained consciousness for a little while before falling into a pain medication slumber. It was long enough to confirm Arty’s suspicions that his head injury was not as serious as they initially thought. The expected deficits of a traumatic brain injury and the swelling that came with being crushed under a gunship.

Now, Arty runs through his mental list again:

1. Pelvis- still split, but stable.
2. Bleeding- under control.
3. Bladder- fixed, pending some testing to confirm
4. Head trauma- mild.
5. Lumbar spine- to be determined…

As bad as Cody physically looks, he’s stable. That means Arty can start adding the less critical tasks to his list.

1. Assess Cody’s scans for what long-term stabilization method they will have to do. Arty hopes he’ll be able to reduce it and fixate the broken pieces internally. Otherwise, Cody will be stuck with rods and bolts protruding from his pelvis. Arty knows he will not enjoy that.
2. Clean and redress the superficial wounds Kix treated in the field. Arty sends a comm to Fracture to take care of that.
3. Redo everything— scans, labs, physical exam. Arty noticed a few cracked ribs on the preliminary images that were worth a second look.

Even with eight things to think about about, Arty still feels like he’s holding his breath. Like the other boot hasn’t dropped yet. Things are going too smoothly. Too lucky. Maybe he’s just cynical or has seen too much in this war, but Arty knows the prognosis of these types of fractures.

A shiver runs down his spine. He decides it isn’t the time to think about that and grabs a datapad. Fracture is already in Cody’s room starting on his sutures, so Arty picks one of the seven other things to make himself busy.

Arty’s on-call room doze is interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door. He drags himself out of bed, glancing down at his comm with no new messages or code warnings. Arty isn’t all that surprised when the perpetrator of his lack of sleep turns out to be Rex— wide-eyed and pale. Arty is immediately wide awake.

“Rex? What’s—”

“How’s Cody?” he asks, pushing past Arty to enter the room. The medic eyes his fidgety movements and immediate pacing, but plays into whatever Rex is hiding for the time being.

“Resting. Stable. Did Kix send you an update like I told him to?”

“How bad was it?” Arty crosses his arms.

“We opened him up and it turns out he had a whole extra pelvis so we just removed the broken one.”

Rex doesn’t flinch or seem to notice Arty’s sarcasm. “Good. That’s good.”

The medic steps in Rex’s path, grabbing him by the shoulder. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. What’s going on?”

Rex sighs, looking at Arty with an expression full of confusion and exhaustion. It occurs to him that Rex is standing there in full armor, still covered in dirt, dust, and blood. He had to have come straight from his mission.

“Are you hurt?”

“No— no I’m… I think Echo is alive,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“There’s just so many signs, and I’ve had this feeling—”

“Woah, slow down, Rexy,” Arty takes a deep breath, trying to process. He heard about what happened at the Citadel. Helped treat some of the others who were there and heard their stories of the explosion. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” Rex shakes his head. “But I know it’s him. I just do, Art.”

“Okay, so what do you do?”

“We go to Skako Minor. Find him.”

Arty isn’t sure what to say. Rex has this wild look in his eye and Arty can’t help but wonder if there’s evidence Echo is alive or if Cody’s injury is sending him into a survival state. Rex is the type that always needs to be doing something. When it comes to medical things, there isn’t much the captain can do. Arty has seen it before— Rex gets invested in some random other mission or project to avoid his feelings on things he can’t help. Arty wants Echo to be alive— he truly does. But standing before him is a sleep-deprived, grieving clone with the potential to lose one of his closest friends. The question is, is sitting around watching Cody in this condition or being disappointed if Echo is truly gone going to have a worse impact on Rex.

“If it’s not Echo?”

Rex looks away. Stares at the ground for a few seconds before looking back with his hardened, officer demeanor.

“I came to tell you as a courtesy. I don’t know what condition he’ll be in. Have a med bay ready.”

“Rex…” Arty sighs as the captain pushes past him. Arty grabs him by the wrist, halting him as he hovers over the door panel. “You know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

He stares at the door for a long moment, then finally turns to Arty. His gaze is softer than before. Vulnerable. “Then you know I need this.”

Arty nods. “I’ll tell them to keep one clear.”

“Thank you, Art.”

Rex puts his bucket back on and leaves Arty alone. He’s more than awake now, so he decides to take a walk and check on Cody before attempting to sleep again. He makes his way to the ICU, pausing outside of Cody’s room as he sees movement inside.

Kis is checking on Cody’s bandages and looking at all of his ports and monitors. While Arty usually appreciates a thorough medic, he knows for a fact the kid hasn’t slept in days. Kix eventually turns around, his eyes going wide when he finds Arty leaning against the door silently.

“Don’t make me sedate you,” Arty says, somewhat considering it at this point. “Barracks, Kix. Sleep.”

“Arty, listen—”

“I’m not playing this time. Out.”

Being angry with Arty seems to be the theme of the night. Kix’s face twists in anger as he marches toward Arty.

“You aren’t out there!” he yells, jabbing a finger at the chief medical officer’s chest. “You didn’t see him lying there on a LAAT wing. Hear him muttering, delirious. Screaming— have you ever heard Cody scream, Arty?”

Arty just watches as Kix’s anger dissolves into what it actually is: fear. Every medic reaches this breaking point at some point in their career. For many, multiple times. That bone-deep terror that their hands can kill as easily as they heal. The moment where doing everything may mean accomplishing nothing.

“You’re right,” Arty says when Kix’s breathing starts to shudder and slow. He seems taken aback by Arty’s answer. “I’m not in the field as much anymore. I wasn’t there. I get you want to see this through. But if you want to be here when Cody wakes up—actually help get him better—you need to get your shit together. I’ll say it one more time. Barracks. Sleep. Now.”

Kix shoots him a defeated look but obeys. Arty watches him the whole way down the hall until he disappears. When he looks back at Cody, two silent brown eyes stare back at him. Arty is quick to his side, checking that his pain medicine drip is adequate. Cody watches him carefully as he works.

“Remember when I broke down like that?” Arty mutters. Still intubated, Cody isn’t able to respond, but his muffled sigh says enough. “I’ll talk to him once he’s gotten sleep. I promise… good news for you, though. We can do a weaning trial tonight. See if we can get this tube outta your throat for a bit.”

Cody’s expression lightens. He grabs Arty’s hand and squeezes it. It gives Arty enough optimism that he decides to do a few more motor and sensory tests. His upper body is decent. Muscle strength four out of five. Reacts to sensory stimulus.

When he reaches the legs, his optimism vanishes. He doesn’t respond to the pricks on his feet. Doesn’t wiggle his toes when Arty asks.

Best case, when we reduce the fractures and the swelling goes down, he’ll regain function. Worst case…

As though Cody is able to hear Arty’s grim train of thought, his vital suddenly start going crazy. His heart rate tanks as his head drops backward, almost like he’s suddenly fallen unconscious. Arty quickly runs up to him, tapping on his shoulder and then digging his knuckles into the Commander’s sternum.

Nothing.

Arty slams the code button as Cody’s pressure tanks. Moments later, the rapid response team is tearing into the room just as Arty is throwing a sterile field down and lining a catheter up with the large artery in Cody’s leg.

“What’s happened?” Fracture asks, running to the other side of Cody’s bed.

“He isn’t holding pressure. We gotta go back in. Now."

“What are you doing?”

Arty hands Fracture an imaging probe and directs him to the place he needs to see what he's doing. 

“Holding pressure for him.” Arty advances the catheter, watching on the monitor as it’s pushed backwards through the arteries until he’s well into the aorta. He injects the saline to inflate the balloon on the end of the catheter, occluding the main artery so no more blood can pour out of Cody’s shredded vessels. Squeezing the unit of blood, Cody’s pressure slowly starts to stabilize. It’s low, but it exists.

“Alright, Fracture, wake up the OR team. This buys us 30 minutes to save him.

Kix isn’t sure what he’s feeling. Most of the day he was numb. Suddenly all he wants to do is hit something— or someone. Then again, he barely feels like he has the energy to stand let alone start a fight. So he does neither. Returns to his barracks. Every step he takes feels like he’s deflating.

When Kix finally sits on the edge of his bunk— finally stops for the first time in days— the weight of everything descends upon him at once.

Body-shaking sobs rattle through him uncontrollably. Kix curls into a ball atop his bunk, wrapping his arms around himself as tight as he can to try and hold himself together.

The pieces just keep tumbling away.

Hot tears burn as they drip down his cold skin. Kix wishes he took Arty up on the sedation or something so he didn’t have to feel the unbearable ache of grief holding him by the throat.

I could have done more, that little voice whispers in his ear. I could have—

“Kix,” gentle hands cup his cheeks. Through blurry tears, he sees Jesse crouched beside his bunk. He didn’t know they were back yet. Judging from his bottom half still being encased in armor, they must have just made it. Seeing one of his closest brothers only makes Kix start to cry harder. “Oh, buddy, I’m coming in, okay?”

The only noise Kix can make in response is an unintelligible sputter. Jesse climbs over Kix, positioning himself behind him. He wraps his arm around him, taking up the task of holding the broken medic together.

“You did so good, Kix,” Jesse whispers in his ear, droning out the voice telling Kix the opposite. It soothed him enough to stop shaking, but the tears continued to come as exhaustion started to pull at Kix’s eyelids.

“What if… he dies?” Kix asks.

Jesse is quiet for a moment. He squeezes Kix a little harder.

“If Cody…” he pauses, clears his throat, “We’ll be sad. We’ll mourn. And we’ll give him the warrior’s burial he deserves. And… we’ll keep going, Kix. Like he would want us to do.”

For some reason, it brings Kix comfort to hear something besides he’ll make it. The fact of the matter was, the odds were not in Cody’s favor and it scared the shit out of him to know that information. That was the tragedy of being a medic: knowing how to save lives, but also knowing when death had the upper hand.

“We’ve done this so many times,” Kix sighs. “Why is it this so hard?”

“’Cause it’s Cody,” Jesse says, his voice tight.

That was exactly it. It was Cody. Cody never staggered. Never showed weakness—Cody who had a personal hand in so many of their upbringings. The brother of brothers who was always by their side when they needed someone now lay in a trauma bay. He was stable when Kix left, but he also knew how these types of injuries could be. Anything could happen at any moment.

There was nothing more Kix could do to keep that thread from snapping. Nothing but follow orders and try to be back at his side.