Star Wars the Clone Wars - One shots

Tolerance

Five times Coric nearly snapped, and one time he did.

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T/W: Slavery, panic attacks, hospices, terminal illnesses and some minor blood/medical stuff

Thanks so much to InkSplots for letting me borrow Shatter! Check out their works on A03 and FFN!

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Skywalker's new Padawan had barely been with the Legion for three days before Coric found her hiding an injury from him.

He didn't agree with the Council sending their kids to war, but if they had to, could they at least teach the ankle-biters that untreated wounds would never get better on their own?

"Right," he put his medkit on the floor and knelt beside the trembling Togruta. He'd researched the species as much as he could since he saw the teenager step out of the transport on Christophsis, but he was still at a loss in regard to her montrals and lekku which were half-coated in blood. "What happened here?"

"It was only a graze," Ahsoka muttered, forehead resting on her knees as her eyes tightly closed. Dizziness- Coric guessed- based on the way she was swaying slightly. "Nothing some bacta paste couldn't fix."

Coric frowned, glancing at the General who only shrugged- this appeared to be his first-time hearing about this as well. The Sergeant had been called to Skywalker's quarters when the girl stumbled there in the middle of the night, barely able to stand upright and begging her Master to make the room stop spinning.

"Can I take a look?" Consent was important, even if Coric fully planned on sedating her if she refused.

Ahsoka moved her hand away from her left lekku, revealing a mangled mess. Skywalker made a quiet gagging noise, and even Coric had to grimace from the repulsive odour emitting from the bloodied flesh.

"That's more than a graze, sir," he said sourly, putting on a pair of gloves whilst trying to only breathe through his mouth. As far as infections go, it was a miracle that the Commander was still alert and responsive.

He started to clean the wound with practised but light fingers, wiping away the pus and gunk that had been festering inside the open wound for over seventy-two hours now.

"I grazed it on the broken edge of one of the cannons as I tried to get to cover," Ahsoka made out through gritted teeth, trying her hardest to not cringe away from his hands.

Coric frown deepened, and not just because this wouldn't have happened if the Togruta wore some sort of protective headgear. No, it was her attitude that had him ticking. Kix was the one who would play along with the 'all medics are evil' joke, but Coric actually took a lot of pride in his work, and Ahsoka's comment stirred something in his gut.

"And why didn't you come to the med tent immediately?" He asked, applying an antibiotic cream to the wound. He couldn't stitch it until the oozing eased up.

Ahsoka ducked her head impossibly deeper into her knees, "You were all busy; I didn't want to bother you with some stupid scratch."

Coric had to hold back a sigh. If her Master wouldn't correct this behaviour, then this was a conversation that needed to happen between medic and patient. After all, Skywalker was just as bad- if not worse- when it came to pretending that blaster wounds were scratches and limbs hanging off were just sore muscles.

"Kid," he heard her inhale sharply from the nickname, "you know, a cut is easier to treat than sepsis?"

Slowly, her head bobbed up and down, and Coric heard her swallow loudly. He pressed a hypo to her bicep, feeling some sympathy win out over the parental frustration, "For the nausea."