The Varactyl Squadron Commander (A Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Thirty-One

"Your hands look absolutely d-d-d-dreadful."

Molindi didn't make a sound as the droid tended to the deep gashes in her fingers and palms with a towel. Where JC had found it, Molindi had no idea. But she didn't protest to the droid's aid, especially not after last time.

The two were sitting in the deluxe suite's enormous bathroom, a room large enough to be an apartment in itself, with Molindi sitting on the edge of the bath- no, more like pool - while JC made herself comfortable on the floor at her feet. 

Out of all the rooms, nooks, and crannies they'd seen since the group entered the palace, every single one of them had either been carpeted or sand-filled stone walkways. The suite's bathroom was the only location to have tiled flooring. Albeit ancient-looking tiled flooring, but it was still a step up nonetheless. The vines along the walls had nearly disappeared as well, leaving only thin strands of green here and there along the massive stone surfaces. Though it made the atmosphere much colder, the stone was a comforting opposite from the tightly-knitted forest that made up the rest of the deluxe suite.

The commander noted the new scents of the foyer-sized bathing room as well. The smell of burnt and decaying flesh from the palace's dining room was long gone, replaced by something more pleasant, more welcoming. The air had an earthy draft about it, like her mother's old greenhouse back when she'd been a little girl.  For the first time since before they'd even reached Twar's surface, Molindi legitimately felt safe.

She hadn't noticed it before thanks to the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but now that her heart rate was back to normal and the general sensation of feeling began to return to her limbs, the open wounds she'd received from repairing JC's fractured spinal column with her bare hands were finally starting to sting.  

"Look," The droid let out a sound similar to that of a sigh before getting to her feet and walking over to the dark, wooden bowl of a sink a few feet away. "I-I-I'm sorry about earlier, I realize I shouldn't have been so q-q-quick to run to your side," She squeezed her metal hands around the blood-soaked cloth before turning the faucet on and rinsing the red from the fabric. "You were already f-feeling overwhelmed and I m-made it worse."

"No," Molindi cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I should've been calmer, you were just trying to help. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

Molindi didn't know how she could've let the situation get so out of hand. Sure, she was dealing with some serious PTSD, but that was no excuse when the lives of her men were on the line. There were no excuses at all when the woman was responsible for her men's safety. She knew her job and her priorities: always put the mission first, but save your soldiers even if it means you can't save yourself.

She'd only broken that rule once. And one time was enough for the shattered commander to know it was a moral that could never be broken again.

"I..." JC sighed again and turned around to face her master, metal feet clicking against the tiles underfoot. "I r-really care about you, Molindi. Y-you're the only real family I've e-ever had. It pains me to see you in s-s-such a state as you were in today."

"I know," The commander acknowledged her friend's words. This wasn't the first time JC had pulled the 'family' card, and Lindi knew for certain that it wouldn't be the last. It was her biggest weakness in regards to arguments or blackmail. "I'm sorry, I'll try to do better-"

"N-no," JC shook her metallic head, then got on her metal knees and gently took Molindi's hands in her own. For a split second, the memory of Lindi's mother doing the exact same thing when she was a child flashed through her mind and sent a small stab of pain to her chest. Damn, that was one of the last things she needed to be thinking about right then. "T-this isn't something you can just...w-work on like a broken droid. It takes time and-"

Tap-tap-tap...

The knocking was hesitant and faint, but still there at the door nonetheless. Their gaze was pulled to the large slab of wood across the room and a sudden burst of anxiety plunged to the pit of Molindi's gut. Oh no... The commander internally groaned to herself as the guilt from her actions- or lack of, to be more precise- flooded back into her thoughts like a tsunami. Great.

Upon hearing the tapping, the droid prepared to get back to her feet and answer the door, but Molindi beat her to it. Despite her emotions on the previous confrontation between her and the troops, she pressed her lips in a straight line and kept her expression neutral as she wrapped her fingers in JC's towel and pulled the door open with a small tug.

Looking back at the woman was one of her own guys; thankfully not the one she dreaded interacting with the most, though confrontation would be inevitable at some point if they were going to get through this mission in one piece. 

"Breaks," She smiled a friendly half-smirk at the sight of the man and nodded in assurance. "I'll be down in a minute, just patching myself up first."

"Yeah, I noticed," He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck with one hand while the other held something at his side. Lindi bit the inside of her cheek and glanced down at the floor; he had every reason to feel awkward, to look nervous in her presence after that show beforehand. Hell, they all probably felt the same way. When was the last time one of their superiors threatened to de-man them?

"I, uh," The bald trooper stammered and extended the object in his hand towards her.

A med-kit. It wasn't much, just a standard white, rectangular box with the universal symbol of medical aid printed across the top, but it was a hell of a lot better than what they were working with right then.

"I found this in one of the spare rooms, 'thought it might be of use."

"Thank you, Breaks. We couldn't find anything like that in here, this'll help a lot," She reached out for the white container. When her fingertips grazed the surface of the container, the blood on her hands left trails of menacingly red liquid and Breaks' eyes widened in shock before pulling back and placing a serious hand on the wooden door.

"Sir, that's a lot of blood. Do you need assistance?"

"No, no, thank you but I can handle this mysel-"

"Did I hear someone say 'blood'?" It was upon hearing the sound of another individual's voice that the duo realized they weren't alone; Risk and Tyson had followed Breaks upstairs. Despite the trauma of a wall trying to eat their comrades and their commander threatening to chop off their brother's parts, the two seemed to be fairing as well as Breaks. Not as enthusiastic as they'd been before the mission, but still wanting to connect regardless of that day's events. "As the most qualified trooper in our squad in regards to medical training, I believe this'll be a job for me as well."

"Hey, what about me?" Tyson questioned with a raised eyebrow. Risk smirked.

"You can cheer us on. Y'know, moral support." Breaks and Risk chuckled while Tyson folded his arms and rolled his eyes, attempting to hide a smile of his own.

"Wait, guys-"

Even though she did her best to protest, her troops opened the door all the way and entered the bathroom on their own accord. Despite her attempts to tell them she and JC could handle the situation themselves, the clones wouldn't take no for an answer. Like a wolf pack after finding an abandoned pup, they'd adopted her into their group and were worried about their commander; they'd be damned if they let anything get in the way of them coming to her aid.

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Currently binge-watching every season of Star Wars:The Clone Wars and I can't handle how brilliant the show truly was. I love the clones and its been giving me much-needed inspiration for this series. Expect more updates soon. :)