clone wars/star wars oneshots

Rex - fluff

rex is injured and you stitch him up

It had been a brutal battle, one that left the 501st Legion battered and diminished. I had been assigned to the battalion as an additional general for two primary reasons: the sheer size of the battalion demanded at least two generals to maintain an effective leadership ratio, and the nature of their missions was particularly grueling. An extra Jedi could be the difference between victory and defeat.

I was young, freshly knighted, and lacked the hardened war general presence of Anakin or the impulsive creativity of his padawan and my friend Ahsoka. Yet despite my inexperience, the clones of the 501st welcomed me as one of their own. Their acceptance filled me with a sense of belonging for which I would always be grateful.

After the exhausting battle of the day, I finally collapsed onto the edge of my cot in the tent, burying my head in my hands. The sounds of war echoed in my mind, mingling uneasily with the Jedi Code's teachings. I felt a growing attachment to the clones, a bond that was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile. I loved them—each and every one of them. The thought of their injuries, the faces of those we had lost, haunted me. It felt unbearable to see their pain or the emptiness left by their absence.

But what terrified me the most were my feelings for Captain Rex. I was falling for him, and it was happening too quickly. The idea of losing him or witnessing his suffering was something I couldn't fathom. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen him, which only deepened my anxiety.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when a tall, armored figure staggered into my tent.

"Y/N..."

"Rex?" My heart sank at the sight of him. It wasn't like him to enter so unsteady, and my instincts kicked in as I quickly assessed his condition. Blood stained the hand clutching his shoulder, and I gasped, realizing the severity of the situation. "Stars! You need a medic right now!" I rushed forward, instinctively trying to support him, but his armor made him heavier than I had expected. Instead, I struggled to keep him from collapsing.

"No," he grunted, his voice strained. "No medics. Kix has enough people to deal with."

He was losing blood—not at a critical rate, but fast enough to cause alarm. When he stumbled again, I managed to guide him down onto the spare cot in the tent, my heart racing.

"Rex, why didn't you go to a medic right away?" I pressed, urgency lacing my words. I needed to help him now; it didn't matter what had happened before.

"I already told you," he replied, gritting his teeth against the pain. "There's too much for them to handle. I'll be fine." Despite his bravado, I could see the strain in his eyes and the way he gripped his shoulder as if to contain the bleeding.

I set to work, hastily removing his armor to assess the injuries. As I pulled away the plates, my heart dropped further.

I immediately left his side to gather the supplies I needed, my heart racing with urgency. When I returned, I assessed the situation briefly, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. I took a deep breath, then straddled his waist to get the right angle for cutting open his shirt. The closeness sent a jolt of electricity between us, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body, mingling with my own anxious energy. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, and the air felt thick with unspoken feelings—tension crackling like a live wire. I swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts aside as I focused on the task at hand, but I couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through me as I prepared to help him.

Gently, I cut open his shirt, exposing his wounds. A blaster wound marred his upper arm, a deep hole that oozed blood. A long, jagged cut ran from his chest to his shoulder, the skin torn and angry.

"Rex..." I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. "You absolute kriffing idiot." He managed a pained smile, a mix of charm and stubbornness that both irritated and warmed my heart.

"Yeah, but you love me for it."

"I do not love it when you get hurt," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly as I twisted the cap off a bottle of alcohol.

"Okay, this isn't rubbing alcohol—it's whiskey. It'll work the same, but I can't promise it won't sting." I poured some onto a cloth, the strong scent filling the air as I prepared to clean his wounds. I worked as gently as I could, trying to suppress my anxiety. Rex winced at the contact, but I could see he was determined not to show weakness. He reached for the whiskey bottle, taking a swig before placing it back down. I bit my tongue, deciding not to chastise him as I continued my work.

After cleaning the blaster wound, I sprayed bacta over his upper arm, watching as it glistened and began to take effect. Then, I focused on the longer cut. It was clear that this needed stitches, and the realization sent a jolt of fear through me. I was not a trained medic, and the thought of making a mistake with his life on the line was daunting.

A thought crossed my mind—something Master Yoda had taught me about using the Force for healing. I hesitated; I had never used the Force in this way, and uncertainty gripped me. But looking at Rex, his face pale and stricken with pain, I knew I had to try.

I placed my hands on Rex's chest, closing my eyes and centering myself. I recalled Master Yoda's words, urging me to clear my mind and let the Force flow through me. I focused on the connection between us, feeling the energy of the universe surround me.

A few moments passed, and when I opened my eyes, I was astonished. The deep cut had transformed into little more than a shallow scrape. Rex stared at me, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"How—how did you...?" he stammered, his shock palpable.

"Don't even ask; I don't know myself," I admitted, sighing in relief as I finished bandaging the remaining areas. I wiped away the last of the blood, my hands trembling slightly.

I sighed in relief as I finished bandaging his wounds and reached over to grab the strong painkillers I had brought. Handing them to him, I watched as he swallowed them with another mouthful of whiskey, the liquid courage visibly loosening him up.

"Thank you," he said, looking up at me with those big brown puppy dog eyes. The whiskey was clearly having a slight effect, softening the edges of his usual stoic demeanor. "You make a good medic." His smile was warm, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Before I could respond, he surprised me by grabbing my waist and pulling me down to lay flush against him. My stomach did somersaults as I obliged, feeling the heat of his body beneath me. I made sure to position myself carefully, avoiding his wounds, but the closeness was intoxicating.

"You ever heard of the nightingale effect?" Rex mumbled into the top of my head, resting his chin there.

"Isn't that where—"

"Where nurses fall in love with their patients," he finished, his voice low and teasing. I stifled a giggle, not wanting to hurt him, but the gravity of the moment was undeniable.

"What about it?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even as my heart raced.

"Did you fall in love with me?" His question hung in the air, playful yet sincere, and I could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

I lifted my head to meet his gaze, feeling the warmth of his breath on my skin. "Just then, or... in general?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Both?" he replied, a hint of hope lacing his words.

"Both." It took him a moment to process my answer, but when realization dawned, his mouth widened into a grin that made my heart swell.

"That's good, because I fell in love with you too." The admission tumbled out of his mouth, and I could tell that the whiskey had loosened his tongue, but the confession was sincere. I smiled, resting my head on his.

"You can't get hurt like this again."

"I'll try," he mumbled before pulling me into a sweet kiss.