Chapter Text
When the recruiter watched you sign your life away, he had conveniently forgotten to mention how boring your life would be. How it wouldn’t be much different than what you did on Naboo. Stuck in a med bay tending to the ankle sprains and headaches. All of the action happened elsewhere but you weren’t trained for it. Civilians didn’t belong in the field.
Once or twice you got to help Sketch- the senior medical officer- with patching up the leftovers from a battle. A couple opportunities to do what you did best. Saving lives. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you signed up for. You felt lied to.
Shore leave was few and far between and only lasted a couple of days at the max. You were starting to consider subletting your apartment back on Coruscant. Paying rent for a brand new place that you couldn’t even enjoy seemed stupid. The 212th was busy enough that you were almost guaranteed to be away ninety-percent of the time.
Your quarters- thankfully separate from the barracks- had become your home.
Four square walls, no window, a cot and a refresher. If you were lucky, the clones had something entertaining on the holoscreen in the gym.
You’d kept your distance for the most part. Kept to your lane and stayed in your room when you weren’t on duty or in the mess.
Not because the men were rude or unwelcoming. Far from it. The clones, like any band of soldiers, revered their medics. Being a civilian, you felt like they cherished you even more. They didn’t get many opportunities to talk to a non-clone unless it was under rather depressing circumstances. You were constantly asked about what life was like on the outside. What they couldn’t experience.
No, no. That wasn’t the reason you maintained a healthy distance from the clone troopers.
It was because you had the hots for their commanding officer. Marshal Commander Cody.
There was something in the way he carried himself that drew you in. He always commanded respect wherever he went. The men admired him and that was rubbing off on you. You tried to rationalize that it was just his aloofness that built that attraction in you. That faceless, expressionless visor that left him a mystery. Like you were in some holo drama.
The funny thing? You’d never even spoken to the man, nor had he ever turned his attention on you. Why would he? He had a reputation as a robot for being by-the-book and serious. Some men claimed they never heard him laugh before. He was always on a schedule, on a mission of sorts, with no time for pleasantries or idle chatter.
So, the less time you spend outside of your little bubble, the less chance you’d run into him. The less of a chance for you to make a gushing fool of yourself.
Perfect plans never go accordingly. The commander had found himself in need of medical attention here or there during the conflicts but you were able to pawn him off on one of the other medics so far. Always made some excuse for why you weren’t available to stitch his wounds or apply his bacta patches.
General Kenobi often visited the med bay to assess the state of the injured and to provide some Force healing if able. Many times he dragged Cody along with him, to your chagrin. It didn’t help that the friendly Jedi Master always made a point to speak with you to see how you were faring. There were only a handful of civilians on board, mostly mechanics, so Kenobi wanted to make sure you and the others were treated well.
Part of you wanted to ask him to be allowed on campaigns. Attached to the rear division to provide medical care for the most critically injured. You felt like your talents were wasted on the Negotiator . There had been a couple space battles and injured pilots ending up at your work station but most of the 212th’s missions were planetside.
You knew he would disagree. You weren’t trained with a blaster or wearing armor. The GAR had issued you fatigues and transferred your civilian credentials. That was it. No extra training.
You pondered all of this as you helped the medics prepare for Ryloth. Kits needed to be inventoried and packs had to be counted. Routine. Mundane. You’d done it dozens of times. Label, record, and toss it into the back of a gunship.
“That was the last of ‘em,” you heard Sketch say. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Wooley has the med bay covered.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. Straightening out your uniform, you exited the LA-AT and bid the trooper farewell as you made a beeline through the hangar. In your peripheral, you saw the marshal overseeing the fueling and flight checks. Not allowing yourself to take a broader glance at him, you kept on.
Cody was shocked when your reporting orders came through on his desk eight months ago. He had figured there would be no need for civilian contractors. He and his brothers had things handled. He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t a bit insulted at you being assigned to his battalion. If only because it insinuated that the existing medics weren’t enough.
But then you came on board.
You were like a phantom. Quite fitting in that his top tier company was coined “Ghost”. He rarely saw you around the ship. You seemed to just disappear after duty hours.
Initially it was of no consequence to him. Cody wasn't bothered with the comings and goings of a civilian. He had too much on his plate. Too many lives relying on his focus.
The first couple months passed and, naturally, he had to be seen by the medics after a mission. He didn't pay attention to you at first, not particularly picky about who was applying to bacta.
But when you turned him away from your station, he started taking notice of you. How you refused to make eye contact with him. How you strode over to another injured trooper, claiming they had been waiting longer.
Cody chalked it up to his attitude. He was hard to read and he knew that. He didn't go out of his way to be off-putting but he wasn't going to fake comelyness either. So he shrugged it off the first time. There were plenty of other medics. He'd wait.
But because he was now paying attention to you, he realized how much you avoided social interaction. Not just with him but with the boys, too. They tried to involve you but you resisted.
Even now, as you rushed away from the gunships, you looked like you were trying to escape. Like you felt you didn't belong.
Cody was starting to worry. You were one of his medics and he needed all of his team members squared away. Unit cohesion. Break the bond and the whole thing falls apart.
He just didn't know how to approach you. How to make you feel welcomed. Wanted.
He didn't know what to do now that he was starting to care about you.