Clone Wars One Shots

Compressing My Tears (and my never ending nightmares)

Hey! So it's been awhile... but I've finally had enough time to post! I do mainly post on A03 now, but I will try to post some of my works on here too.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Btw, Carrion is my Coruscant Guard CMO oc. Hope you like him!

Sweat pooled on top of Carrion's forehead as he continued the repetition of the chest compressions. His arms ached with exhaustion and the palms of his hands were almost numb- yet he didn't let up.

Not even an inch.

One.

Two.

Three.

There were other Corrie medics bustling around him, all tending to their own trauma cases and some even delivering their own CPR. But Carrion focused on the vod in front of him. On the young shiny with jet black curls and the slow paling of his blueish lips and tan cheeks. He had been dead for minutes now.

Yet Carrion kept compressing.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

He wouldn't- couldn't , let anyone else die. They had already lost so many- incinerated their bodies and collected their metal dog-tag necklaces every clone wore. They were a type of identification, in case their faces were unidentifiable at death, they came pre-engraved with their numbers but every vod always put their name on them too. Carrion already had an overflowing pile of necklaces waiting in his office for him after his shift to go through.

He didn't need one more.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Carrion's arms ached with every compression he did, sharp shoots of pain sparking up his forearms and palms, all the way up to his shoulders and slowly creeping onto his upper back. The pain was almost unbearable, but not enough to stop. Carrion didn't even think he would stop even if he was forced too.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Sweat was starting to drip down his face and catching on the shiny's body laying in front of him. Carrion watched as the globs of sweat splattered on the unnamed vod's chest, flaring out like fireworks. Not that Carrion has ever seen a firework.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Only thirteen more compressions then two breaths, only thirteen more- only thirteen more- only thirteen-

The doors to the medbay slammed open, and Carrion almost stopped his methodically placed compressions. Almost.

Carrion's vod'ika and his second, Patch, ran up to his side.

"Carrion! A new batch just came in, bad burns all of them. Going to need your help!" Patch said loudly, ducking down to lock eyes with Carrion where he was staring intently at the vod's chest in front of him.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.