𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 || Anakin Skywalker

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵: 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏?

Sersi's pov

When we got back to the Death Star, I was instantly thrown into working on the clones again. I did t even get time to inspect my own wounds before I had to start saving their asses.

"Stop moving, you're going to mess up my line." I groaned, holing the clone's arm down.

They wouldn't stop moving as I tried to give them stitches, they kept whining that it hurts. That they don't need them, their fine.

You're a baby is what you are.

I was in pain. My head was killing me, my nose would still periodically start bleeding too. My ribs hurt like a mother fucker, and my arm still needed to be cleaned and probably needed stitches of their own. So yes, I was in a bad mood.

I finished his stitches, moving onto the next patient when I realized that there were none.

Thank the maker.

Everyone was tended too, and now it was time for me to tend to myself. I found myself a private room, removing some of my clothes to inspect the damage. I had deep purple and yellow bruising around my ribs. They could be broken, so I ordered a droid to take an x-ray for me. I then started fixing the small cuts on my face, cleaning them and putting on a few small bandages. I needed to inspect my arm now, but it was difficult with the angle. I used the mirror to clean it, and it needed stitches for sure. I tried reaching around but I couldn't get enough motion, but I was going to try anyways.

As soon as the small needle pierced my skin, the door flew open aggressively. I jumped a bit, making the needle end up poking me. I groaned, looking up to meet a set of angry looking amber eyes.

"Ever heard of knocking?" I asked with an irritated tone.

His eyes narrowed to my arm, "What do you think you're doing?" He asked, walking over and moving the mirror, shoving my hand away and taking the needle himself.

"What you do think you're doing? You're going to fuck it up."

"I know how to give stitches, Sersi." He sassed back, making me narrow my eyes at him.

"Ow, be gentle." I hissed at the pain.

Maybe that clone trooper wasn't a baby after all.

"What we're you even doing down there?" He snapped, his eyes still focusing on the stitches as his brows furrowed.

"My job. I was sent down there to the camp." I rolled my eyes.

"Who sent you?"

"Ren. Said they were too swamped up here and that he needed a team down there. So I took five doctors and three clones, only three made it out alive." I watched as he was working.

Then his hands stopped moving, his eyes meeting mine.

"Made it out alive?" His tone was angry, but also scared.

"They shot at our ship. Me, Noa and a clone were the only ones that made it." I clarified, watching his jaw clench as he took a deep breath, continuing to give me my stitches.

"What happened when you were down there?" He questioned.

"We made it to the camp, I saved lives. We were attacked, then some bitch attacked me, leaving me with this beauty as a reminder." I rolled my eyes.

"You were attacked?" He raised his voice, stopping again and poking me with the needle again.

"Ow! Will you fucking pay attention, that shit hurts!" I groaned, watching him roll his eyes, shake his head and continue on with his work.