Patch is a clone medic OC inspired by a background character in the Clone Wars comic âIn Service of the Republic.â Heâs a generation one trooper, and was with Plo Koon, Wolffe, and the others when the Malevolence blew up (and has some related trauma). For a while, he was assigned under the small command of Captain Ozzel, but after the battle of Khorm, he requested a transfer along with Fixer from the Devil Dogs of the 44th Special Operations Division to work directly with the Wolfpack, and later he became the medic for the Wolfpack once he showed that he could keep up with the rest of them in their frequent rescue missions.
His original squad was made up of himself, Blunt, and three other troopers who were, more often than not, troublemakers and complete and utter children. As the only responsible human being in his squad, CT-9332 (Patch) had taken it upon himself to read parenting books made for natborns as a last resort. When his squad found out, he almost got nicknamed Buir on the spot, but he stubbornly refused to take that name, since it felt more like a teasing response than something he wanted to live with for the rest of his life, so he stayed a number for a bit longer.
Of course, that only lasted until one of his squadmates had discovered that tying a rope onto the back of a droid and removing their shoes allowed them to scoot around Kamino (like little kids like to race around hallways and slide in their socks). All of them tried it, of course, one batchmate earning the name Scoot for coming up with the idea, but soon they ran into a problem. Kaminoan sock-making was not high quality, especially for mass-produced clones, and they were not made with the intention of being abused in this way.
As a medic, he ended up patching up his squadmates and their clothes on a fairly regular basis. (While medic cadets were taught sutures, nobody else knew basic sewing skills at first, and the Kaminoans only replaced cadetâs socks so many times before they started asking questions).
(Also, the name is inspired by the movie Patch Adams, which is an amazing movie, and later on Patch might be diagnosed with depression or something, but for now, heâs a medic with a heart too big for his own good who just wants to see his squad, and later the Wolfpack, safe and happy and well-fed).Â
He may have gotten the words âbackup buirââ written on his shoulder pad in aurebesh after a mission without General Plo where heâd had to treat half the Wolfpack for minor concussions and all of them for splinters that had managed to get between the cracks of their armor, nearly making Comet cry until he had gotten out the multicolor bandaids (possible fanfic idea for a later date).
As far as looks go, he has slightly longer than regulation hair, and a soul patch (since his nameâs Patch). Heâs also got a bit of a belly, since heâs not as active as some of his younger vode, and eats at regular intervals, unlike some other medics we know.Â
Hereâs a post with more character development details (x)
(Basically, I gave him mildly annoying dad habits, and decided that heâs a soft medic boi but also an old man) đ
Thank you so much for your clone medic meta post! It's such an in-depth and valuable resource. However, now all I can think about is Clone Dentist. Clone who after medic training specialized in dentistry. All the clones having to go to Clone Dentist for their dental check ups. Clones in the Clone Dentist waiting room waiting for the dental check-up. The clones all going to the Clone Dentist. It's possesed my soul and haunts my days. I dream about Clone Dentist now.
LOL
You donât understand.
I yearn for clone dentist. I NEED clone dentist. Iâve been secretly sitting and waiting for someone to make an oc dental tech clone this entire time. Or any specialty really. I would be EXUBERANT đ
I am waiting patiently for someone to draw Crown or Bridge or Cap or Flossy or Molar or whatever the hell you want to call them.
You're probably about to be inundated with clone dentist OCs, but this dude wheeled into my brain first thing this morning on his ridiculous rolly chair and hasn't left me alone all day so I had to share. Introducing, clone dental tech Shaw:
His real name is Shaw, but he's earned the honorary title of The Tooth Fairy or Fae for short. He's an exceptional dentist who usually gets handed the more difficult cases due to his proficiency. He's infamous for 1) his ability to talk a patient's ear off about random stuff and 2) how he'll nonchalantly push off and roll down the hall in his chair at the end of a session with a wave and a friendly "Be sure to floss or I'll kick your ass!"
Clone medic oc's with medical specialties, you say? đ
Might I introduce you to my OC Patch?
He's a rehabilitation specialist with the 104th, working somewhere between physical therapy and occupational therapy, helping his brothers adapt to new ways of doing things after significant injuries. He also has some CBT/DBT training as a part of his specialization, and uses both this and his own experiences to help his vode when they're having a hard time.
He's really great at improvising and problem-solving for things like, "How do I put on my armor with one hand?" or "How do I compensate for losing half my visual field until my prosthetic eye gets here?" and even "How do I sit through an eight-hour briefing without spontaneously combusting?" He also does consultations by comm, and will help troopers from other battalions when he's not too busy with the 104th.
Based on the OC-tober prompt: Midnight strolls and a full moon.
One week after the Malevolence attack, Commander Wolffe is tasked with the heart-wrenching responsibility of rebuilding the 104th. Finding Patch still awake, he learns more about his brother's limits.
âPatch? Didnât know you were awake.â Wolffe commented quietly, moving to join the medic near the shipboard window.Â
Sitting on the cold steel floor of an eerily quiet rec room, Patchâs face was only just illuminated by the light of a nearby planetary moon, casting dark shadows on the medicâs face.Â
âCouldnât sleep.â Patch responded quietly, and Wolffe politely ignored the way his hands were shaking. It had only been a week since the Malevolence attack; a week spent in-limbo while they waited for a new ship to be assigned, as well as a booster shipment of shinies, and a few well-chosen transfers from other battalions.Â
It wasnât easy, rebuilding a battalion from nothing.
But that was the task set before him, and as much as Wolffe hated to ask⌠there was never going to be a good time for this conversationâ a good time to discuss moving on.Â
So reluctantly, he sat down next to the medic with a tired groan and asked, âHave you thought about the CMO position yet?â
 At Wolffeâs question, Patch gave a ragged inhale, and his lip trembled. Swallowing thickly, it took him a while to form a single word. What words were there, for a situation like this?
âI-I donât know. I donât know if I canâ if Iâve got what it takes.â Patch shook his head, voice quiet and small.Â
Wolffe reached out to rub his shoulder. âYou do, vod. Youâve got the training and the qualifications. If you need help with the paperwork, Iâm sure the 501stâs CMO would be able toâŚâ
Patchâs breath picked up, voice shaking as he continued. âI-Iâm just⌠I donâtâ I donât knowâ I donât knowâ I donâtââ Patch broke off, starting to spiral. He shook his head again, almost frantically, and pulled on the straps of his gauntlets, knowing full-well that they were already too tight.
Patch knew the 104th needed a lead medic. He knew this. He justâ he couldnât do thisâ
His breath hitchedâ heâd been crying a lot lately, but to be fair, they all were. Rocking a little from where he was sitting, his vision blurred and the once-peaceful view from the window felt like a threat, all too similar to the view from their escape pod, just one week ago.
Wolffeâs eyes widened, and he realized that heâd drastically underestimated the situation. Patch had taken the Malevolence hardâ they all had, but for a medic to survive when their brothersâ their whole battalion had diedâŚÂ
It also didnât help that heâd been having nightmares since it happened, and flinched every time an airlock hissed. Hopefully that would go away in time.
Pushing that thought aside, he gathered the shaking medic in his arms, letting their foreheads touch. âAlright, vod. Shhhh⌠donât need to make a decision today. This doesnât need to fall on you. None of it should.â He rubbed Patchâs back, not fighting it when a few tears came to his own eyes.
â...itâs not fairâŚâ Patchâs voice was muffled in Wolffeâs blacks, hoarse and broken as he buried his face in the otherâs arms.
âI know, Patch⌠Itâs not.â Wolffe rumbled, letting his gaze wander to the moon and the stars as they took what little comfort they could in what they had left.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter Summary:
Some days just feel empty.
The two-year anniversary of the Malevolence attack happens while Patch is on assignment with the 501st, but he doesnât have to suffer alone.
Written for OC-Tober! (read the tags!)
Foggy Morning:
Patch drifted into awareness feeling like he was sinking in a deep fog. Exhaling slowly, he felt like the weight of the entire Resolute was on his shoulders, crushing him to the ground. 'It's going to be one of those days,' he realized drearily.
Heâd had enough forethought to avoid scheduling anything, today of all days, so with a lack of prior engagements, he let his mind sink into that terrible emptiness, still preferable to the wall of grief he was trying to avoid.
Two years ago to the day, the Malevolence attacked, leaving Patch stranded, suffocating and helpless in an escape pod. Even with his current struggles, it was still preferable to the fate of his vode. He still didnât know if his batchers had made it to their escape pods, if theyâd suffocated in the vast emptiness of space, or if theyâd gone out with a bolt of blasterfire from one of the droidâs search shuttles. All he knew was that they were gone⌠and he was not.Â
Bluntâs absence that day had been a gift; one of the few times that Captain Ozzelâs last-minute mission postings came in handy, but in the end, heâd died too, leaving Patch as the last living member of his batch.Â
Curling in on himself a little tighter, Patch listened to the relative quiet of the morning. Most troopers had already made their way to the mess hall, but he could hear Tup muttering to himself while putting on the last of his armor, probably running a little bit behind.
âHey Patch,â He called quietly, mindful of anyone still sleeping. âIâm headed to the mess hall if you wanna join me. If not, I could probably bring something back on my way to training.âÂ
Prying his eyes open felt like a monumental task, but Patch did it, responding tiredly. âIâm alright, thanks kid.â
âSure thing! I just wanted to check, since youâre usually up before me.â Tup nodded, giving Patch a curious look, to which Patch shrugged half-heartedly before closing his eyes again, wincing slightly at the reminder that heâd slept in his armor again.
Tup left not too long after that, and Patch spent the next few hours drifting in and out of consciousness. His breathing was slow but effortful, in time with the crashing waves of his psyche. He heard his comm go off a couple of times, but moving, even to check his comms, seemed like an insurmountable task.
If Blunt were here, he wouldâve yanked the mattress out from underneath him hours ago, Patch thought self-depricatingly, and the first set of silent tears came to his eyes, blurring his vision.Â
Lost in thought, he didnât notice the other troopers coming back from training until Tup and Dogma were right next to him, armor clattering against their bunks.Â
âPatch? Are you still asleep?â This time it was Dogma asking, sounding cautiously concerned.Â
Patch shook his head wearily, still half-hidden by his weighted blanket. âNo, âm awake.â He could practically hear Dogmaâs frown deepen in worry.
âItâs past noon, vod. Did you eat anything this morning?â Tup joined in, hesitantly approaching Patchâs bunk.
Patchâs silence was worryingly telling, and Dogma spoke again. âAre you feeling okay, Patch?âÂ
When he finally responded, Patchâs voice was raw with emotion. âNot reallyâŚâ
âOh, uh, are you feeling sick? We can go grab Kix if you want?â Tup offered, concerned.
Huffing slightly, his lip twitched in the barest sense of amusement at their concern. âNo, vod. Itâs ok, just⌠todayâs a hard one for me.â Finally, he forced himself to lower his blanket slightly, turning to face them.Â
He rubbed at his face, suddenly aware of the tear tracks on his cheeks, and avoided eye contact. Open personality or not, he always felt bad about putting his issues on anyone, especially a vodâika.
Tup looked a little lost, surprised by Patchâs demeanor, and Dogma, who was a little more familiar with Patchâs issues, eyed him sympathetically. âOh⌠is there any way we can help? Maybe a hug?âÂ
Finally Patch looked up at them, giving Tup a broken smile before nodding shakily. âSure, kid... a hug would be great.âÂ
Within seconds, Patch found himself with an armful of gangly trooper. Leaning into the hug, he felt his tears start to well up again, but didnât pull away even when they started to fall.Â
After a good minute, he pulled away, finding that Dogma had retrieved a hydro-pack and a ration bar. When he noticed Patchâs eyes on him, he offered the hydro-pack to him, along with a couple tissues.
â⌠thanks, Dogma, Tup.â Patch said, nodding to each of them. He didnât feel better, not by a long shot, but heâd shifted into a sitting position during his hug with Tup, and that was at least an improvement.Â
The logical part of his brain commented that heâd feel a little better after heâd eaten something and gotten some much-needed blood sugar, so he forced himself to choke down the ration bar that Dogma offered him.Â
âDo you⌠want to talk about it?â Dogma suggested awkwardly after heâd eaten a bit, and Patch couldnât help but smile. Emotional stuff didnât come easily to Dogma, but he knew how to put in the effort.Â
Shrugging, Patch stumbled through a response. His mind always seemed to work slower on these days, like he was plowing through a thick fog. âYeah⌠itâs, just⌠two years ago, today, was the Malevolence attack⌠Iâve been pretty busy recently, so it hit me all at once, ya know?âÂ
He straightened up in his bunk, popping his back with a wince. Dogma gave him another concerned look, but knew better than to suggest that he take off his armor.Â
âYou sure you donât want us to call Kix? For moral support, not medical stuff.â Tup offered again, and Patch knew better than to refuse.Â
âSure, kid. If heâs not busy.â Force knows, Wolffe was already going to scold him during their weekly holo call for spending the morning alone.Â
With that thought in mind, he finally reached for his comms to look through the backlog of messages heâd missed that morning.Â
Predictably, there were a few from Wolffe, first a remembrance, âMhi su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, Mhi partayli, gar darasuum,â followed by a check-in, and one more when he hadnât responded.Â
There was also a brief message from another medic heâd gotten to know during his time in-training on Coruscant, just a brief, âThinking of you today, vod,â that thawed a little bit of the icy numbness in his chest.
He typed out a short response to both, promising to comm the rest of the Wolfpack later that day. By the time heâd finished, Kix had showed up, offering him a sad smile as well as a holovid projector. The two medics had recently started watching an absolutely terrible civvie sitcom, after Kix had admitted to having zero time for any real hobbies, but yelling at fictional characters ended up being pretty cathartic, and Patch could honestly use the distraction from his thoughts for a little while.
Later, after the bunks had been rearranged and theyâd watched more than a few episodes, Patch felt like his brain was finally starting to piece itself back together again. Admittedly, when he got into slumps like this, his poor self-care skills only made it worse, and the holovid snacks that Fives had dropped off midway through the second episode had helped more than he thought they would.
Shaking his head in amusement at a particularly terrible scene, Patch sighed to himself. âScoot wouldâve loved this vid, completely unironically too.âÂ
Kix smiled in response, a brief searching look on his face before he asked, âWhat were they like? Your brothers⌠if you feel like sharing?â
Patch huffed, bittersweet amusement filling his tone as he thought about his batch. âThey were troublemakers, for one. Gev alone was probably responsible for half my gray hairs, with his shenanigans and complete lack of impulse control. Pel acted all quiet and innocent, but he had the worst luck of any vod Iâve ever seen, and we were always bailing him out of some situation or another. Scoot was far too clever for his own good. When we were cadets, he came up with this game where heâd attach himself to one of the service droids and slide around Kamino in his socks. I donât know how many times I had to patch up his socks, and the others when they got into it too. Itâs actually how I got my name.â
He paused to take a breath, choking up a little bit as he continued. â... and Blunt⌠I was always the buir of the group, growing up, but Blunt was the one who took care of me. He wasnât afraid to call it like it is, or to tell me to âgo the kriff to bed,â when Iâd been in medbay for too long⌠I miss them every dayâŚâ
Kix had been listening quietly, and squeezed his hand once he was finished. âThey sound really great.â He said softly.
Tup and Dogma had lowered the volume to give him space to speak, and when Tup offered him another hug, Patch didnât refuse. Dogmaâs gesture wasnât as obvious as a hug, but he did scoot a little closer, offering Patch his support as they got comfortable once again to continue watching the holovid.Â
Later on, after Patch had quite enough of the crick in his neck, he decided to shed a few pieces of his armor, and then a few more. By latemeal, he was still vulnerable, but almost lighter, both physically and mentally, and when Wolffe commed him that evening, he was able to assure his oriâvod that he hadnât been alone.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter Summary:
âWhat. Is. That?â Patch asked as he entered the cadet barracks to see Gev hugging a very large, orange⌠thing.
Cadet shenanigans with Patch and his batchmate Gev! Written for the OC-tober prompt "Pumpkin Patch."
Author's note: I like to think that the nicer trainers would bring random junk to show the cadets, for enrichment purposes. The Kaminoans werenât big fans of this strategy, though, because of the high likelihood of hitchhikers and invasive species, but the trainers kept it on the down-low⌠most of the time. This fic is heavily inspired by that one comic of two alligators finding a pumpkin and adopting an opossum, lol.
Pumpkin Patch:
âWhat. Is. That?â Patch asked as he entered the cadet barracks to see Gev hugging a very large, orange⌠thing.
Caught like a deer in the headlights, Gev nearly dropped whatever it was before steadying himself enough to place it on the ground with a small heave. Patchâs squad may have just finished their latest growth-spurt, but they were far from full-grown.Â
Getting no answer to his question, Patch crossed his arms. âDid you steal it from the trainers storageââ
âNo, I didnât steal it! I⌠creatively acquired it?â Gev offered sheepishly, and Patch heaved a sigh, which was only doubled by his batchmateâs next words. âAnd Iâm going to hatch it!â
âWhat.â Patch blinked disbelievingly.
Gevâs words tumbled out faster than Patch could keep track of them. âYou know how we were learning about different species during flash-training? Well, lots of species come from eggs, and â53 was telling me that some species sit on their eggs, and they get cool monsters and stuff, and I figured that Iâm bigger than lots of those species, so if I sat on the eggââ
âThatâs not how it works.â Patch groaned in annoyance.
âIf itâs not an egg, then what is it?!â Gev countered, giving Patch a knowing look when he predictably fell silent.
âSee? It could be an egg! You donât know!â He crowed triumphantly when Patch came up empty.
âI do know! Eggs are smooth, not bumpy!â Patch should know what eggs looked like; after all, he was going to be a medic some day⌠just, not yet.
Gev shook his head emphatically, not noticing as a small crack started to form on the orange object heâd brought to the barracks. âWell, maybe some eggs are bumpy⌠and orange. Some eggs are weird!âÂ
 âNot that weird, vod! You should put it back before the trainers notice you stole it.â
âI told you, I didnât steal it. I found it!â
âDid you find it in the trainerâs storage area?â
â... maybe?â
More yelling ensued as the crack got bigger and bigger, until a mid-sized rodent poked its head through the orange shell, shocking the two cadets into silence. Wide eyes looked at the rodent and then back at each other, until a wide grin appeared on Gevâs face
Taking a deep breath, he shouted with glee, âI told you!!!â
Patch sighed to himself, feeling much older than his ten standard years of age. He was never going to live this down.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fic Summary:
Two times Patch hesitated to take off his armor and one time he didn't. A fic on healing and vulnerability for OC-tober, based on the prompt "Warm Sweaters and a Hot Drink."
Cold Hands, Warm Heart:
âCome on, Patch! Weâre celebrating! Are you sure you wanna go out dressed in the same thing as always?â Fixer pleaded with his brother.Â
The 104th was on a rare shore leave that matched up with Patchâs down-time; rehab training took up a good chunk of his time, so it was rare that heâd get a full day to spend with his visiting vode.Â
Patch huffed, shaking his head. âI already let you put that weird civvie product in my hair.â Plus, heâd heard enough horror stories from the Guard that his chest tightened warningly when he thought about being that vulnerable around anyone other than his brothers.Â
It was better than it was off-planet; most things were, if Patch was being honest, but he never felt truly safe or settled without his armor. Not after the Malevolence, where that option had been taken from him, along with nearly every one of his brothers. So he shook his head, hoping Fixer wouldnât push it.
Giving him a look that belayed understanding of his real reasons, Fixer nodded, fixing Patch with a sympathetic smile. âAlright, vod. But if you ever change your mind, I know for a fact that this shade of blue looks great on most vode.â
Patch chuckled, getting up from his bunk with a small groan. âIâll keep that in mind. Letâs hit the road! Canât keep the Commander waiting!â
______________________
âUdessir vodâika! Itâs okayâ weâre in the barracks⌠youâre safe.â Patch soothed, speaking calmly to the shiny in the bunk above his.Â
Fil, a new addition to the 501st, had joined maybe a month before Umbara and had a pretty rough start even before that, according to Kix and Coric. Patch gritted his teeth in anger; most vode were pretty supportive of differences, but theyâd all been raised in the harsh mindsets of Kamino where even small differences could get you, or your squad, noticed in the worst ways, and some troopers never shook that mentality.Â
Luckily, Fil had been transferred to the bomb squad before anything too bad could happen, but after Umbara and his run-in with Krellâs lightsaber, the kidâs quiet dreams had taken a turn for the worse.Â
âI-I donâtâ I sawââ The shinyâs voice shook in a choked-off sob, and Patchâs heart broke for the kid.Â
âShhh⌠itâs okay, kid. You wanna bunk with me tonight? The barracks are a little chillier than Iâm used to.â He offered, lips quirking into a small smile when the vodâika nodded shakily before scrambling down from his bunk and next to Patch, a little clumsy without the prosthetic on his arm.Â
âS-sorry for waking you, Patch, sir.â Fil stuttered as he shuffled his feet, but he was easily settled by a comforting squeeze.
Even that was a good development, and it made Patchâs heart swell as he wrapped his arms around the shiny, happy to see him reaching out. âJust Patch, vodâika. And I donât mind.â
Fil shifted around for a little bit, struggling to get comfortable, and Patch realized in a moment of self-recrimination that he hadnât taken his armor off. âOh, kriffâ Sorry kid, Iâll take these off in just a second.â He said, starting to unclasp his arm-guards and chestplate, ignoring a twinge of anxiety in his chest.Â
âSorryâ â Fil apologized again before cutting himself off. It was something theyâd been working on, and even Patch himself was guilty of apologizing more than he needed to. But, to be a good example to the shiny, he pushed down an apology of his own and gave Fil a half-smile even when his shoulders tensed up and his own hands, cold with sweat, shook slightly as he slid back under the blankets without the top half of his armor.Â
Running himself through a few breathing exercises, which Fil followed before drifting off again in record time, Patch took a while to settle back in his own skin. He ran a gentle hand through the vodâikaâs short curls until the pull of sleep finally took him once again.Â
________________________
T aking a deep breath of the crisp Alderaan air, Patch reveled in the rare quiet morning. He was always more of an early-bird, compared to most of the Wolf-pack, something heâd forgotten during his⌠hiatus on Coruscant, but heâd shared more than one cup of tea with their general in the early morning light. It was a tradition he was happy to repeat now that he was back with his brothers for good.Â
As far as shore-leave locations went, theyâd definitely hit the jackpot. Just enough snow for the more adventurous troopers to go hiking or cause some mischief, and the barracks theyâd been given were practically a hotel, in Patchâs opinion. The heavy comforter heâd used last night was probably the most extravagant thing heâd ever touched, and heâd fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting his pillow.Â
Looking back at his gear-kit, Patchâs eyes caught on the gift from Blu heâd received last night. The younger medic, although no longer a shiny, still loved working night shift, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the opportunity to catch-up on flimsiwork, or engage in his hobbies when it wasnât too busy. Patch still remembered teaching him how to knit, although the vodâika had far surpassed him by now, as shown by the cable-knit sweater heâd gifted Patch.
âYou donât have to wear it if you donât want toâŚâ Blu had hedged as he handed him the gift. â... I know youâre not much for civvies. But weâve missed you, and itâs good to have you back, and I heard that Alderaanâs supposed to be coldâŚâÂ
A soft smile bloomed on Patchâs face; he was really proud of the competent medic Blu had become in his absence, and it was nice to know heâd been missed. Giving the sweater another considerate look, he noticed a pair of nondescript civvie pants underneath it and huffed in amusement. Apparently Fixer couldnât leave well-enough alone, and had thought to donate them to Patchâs cause.Â
So with a beleaguered sigh, Patch traded in his armored-blacks for soft yarn, not far off from 501st blue, with a bold medic symbol on the front. The weight of the homemade sweater almost reminded him of his weighted blanket, and as he settled in with his cup of tea, Patch breathed a sigh of contentment.Â
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fic Summary:
Two times Patch hesitated to take off his armor and one time he didn't. A fic on healing and vulnerability for OC-tober, based on the prompt "Warm Sweaters and a Hot Drink."
Cold Hands, Warm Heart:
âCome on, Patch! Weâre celebrating! Are you sure you wanna go out dressed in the same thing as always?â Fixer pleaded with his brother.Â
The 104th was on a rare shore leave that matched up with Patchâs down-time; rehab training took up a good chunk of his time, so it was rare that heâd get a full day to spend with his visiting vode.Â
Patch huffed, shaking his head. âI already let you put that weird civvie product in my hair.â Plus, heâd heard enough horror stories from the Guard that his chest tightened warningly when he thought about being that vulnerable around anyone other than his brothers.Â
It was better than it was off-planet; most things were, if Patch was being honest, but he never felt truly safe or settled without his armor. Not after the Malevolence, where that option had been taken from him, along with nearly every one of his brothers. So he shook his head, hoping Fixer wouldnât push it.
Giving him a look that belayed understanding of his real reasons, Fixer nodded, fixing Patch with a sympathetic smile. âAlright, vod. But if you ever change your mind, I know for a fact that this shade of blue looks great on most vode.â
Patch chuckled, getting up from his bunk with a small groan. âIâll keep that in mind. Letâs hit the road! Canât keep the Commander waiting!â
______________________
âUdessir vodâika! Itâs okayâ weâre in the barracks⌠youâre safe.â Patch soothed, speaking calmly to the shiny in the bunk above his.Â
Fil, a new addition to the 501st, had joined maybe a month before Umbara and had a pretty rough start even before that, according to Kix and Coric. Patch gritted his teeth in anger; most vode were pretty supportive of differences, but theyâd all been raised in the harsh mindsets of Kamino where even small differences could get you, or your squad, noticed in the worst ways, and some troopers never shook that mentality.Â
Luckily, Fil had been transferred to the bomb squad before anything too bad could happen, but after Umbara and his run-in with Krellâs lightsaber, the kidâs quiet dreams had taken a turn for the worse.Â
âI-I donâtâ I sawââ The shinyâs voice shook in a choked-off sob, and Patchâs heart broke for the kid.Â
âShhh⌠itâs okay, kid. You wanna bunk with me tonight? The barracks are a little chillier than Iâm used to.â He offered, lips quirking into a small smile when the vodâika nodded shakily before scrambling down from his bunk and next to Patch, a little clumsy without the prosthetic on his arm.Â
âS-sorry for waking you, Patch, sir.â Fil stuttered as he shuffled his feet, but he was easily settled by a comforting squeeze.
Even that was a good development, and it made Patchâs heart swell as he wrapped his arms around the shiny, happy to see him reaching out. âJust Patch, vodâika. And I donât mind.â
Fil shifted around for a little bit, struggling to get comfortable, and Patch realized in a moment of self-recrimination that he hadnât taken his armor off. âOh, kriffâ Sorry kid, Iâll take these off in just a second.â He said, starting to unclasp his arm-guards and chestplate, ignoring a twinge of anxiety in his chest.Â
âSorryâ â Fil apologized again before cutting himself off. It was something theyâd been working on, and even Patch himself was guilty of apologizing more than he needed to. But, to be a good example to the shiny, he pushed down an apology of his own and gave Fil a half-smile even when his shoulders tensed up and his own hands, cold with sweat, shook slightly as he slid back under the blankets without the top half of his armor.Â
Running himself through a few breathing exercises, which Fil followed before drifting off again in record time, Patch took a while to settle back in his own skin. He ran a gentle hand through the vodâikaâs short curls until the pull of sleep finally took him once again.Â
________________________
T aking a deep breath of the crisp Alderaan air, Patch reveled in the rare quiet morning. He was always more of an early-bird, compared to most of the Wolf-pack, something heâd forgotten during his⌠hiatus on Coruscant, but heâd shared more than one cup of tea with their general in the early morning light. It was a tradition he was happy to repeat now that he was back with his brothers for good.Â
As far as shore-leave locations went, theyâd definitely hit the jackpot. Just enough snow for the more adventurous troopers to go hiking or cause some mischief, and the barracks theyâd been given were practically a hotel, in Patchâs opinion. The heavy comforter heâd used last night was probably the most extravagant thing heâd ever touched, and heâd fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting his pillow.Â
Looking back at his gear-kit, Patchâs eyes caught on the gift from Blu heâd received last night. The younger medic, although no longer a shiny, still loved working night shift, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the opportunity to catch-up on flimsiwork, or engage in his hobbies when it wasnât too busy. Patch still remembered teaching him how to knit, although the vodâika had far surpassed him by now, as shown by the cable-knit sweater heâd gifted Patch.
âYou donât have to wear it if you donât want toâŚâ Blu had hedged as he handed him the gift. â... I know youâre not much for civvies. But weâve missed you, and itâs good to have you back, and I heard that Alderaanâs supposed to be coldâŚâÂ
A soft smile bloomed on Patchâs face; he was really proud of the competent medic Blu had become in his absence, and it was nice to know heâd been missed. Giving the sweater another considerate look, he noticed a pair of nondescript civvie pants underneath it and huffed in amusement. Apparently Fixer couldnât leave well-enough alone, and had thought to donate them to Patchâs cause.Â
So with a beleaguered sigh, Patch traded in his armored-blacks for soft yarn, not far off from 501st blue, with a bold medic symbol on the front. The weight of the homemade sweater almost reminded him of his weighted blanket, and as he settled in with his cup of tea, Patch breathed a sigh of contentment.Â
This is a snippet from my fic, âA Series of Hard Knocksâ featuring my OC Patch.
Warnings for panic attacks, PTSD and mild self-injurious behavior.
For context: Patch was stationed with the 501st on a temp basis after Umbara, but still has a lot of trauma from the Malevolence attack, which is the main focus of this fic snippet. Also, Dogma was semi-pardoned for killing Krell in this fic, and has been doing community service in medbay since then.
Enjoy!
Patch always heard klaxons in his dreams. Wailing sirens, flashing lights, and shuddering ships were familiar to his subconscious mind. Maybe thatâs why he didnât wake up to the Resoluteâs evacuation drill until Tup was shaking his shoulder, shouting, âCome on, Patch. Weâve gotta go!âÂ
Reality crashed into Patch like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. Before his mind could process his surroundings, he was already standing, following the other troopers as they exited the barracks. Brain jolting in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself tremble with every blaring siren.
The flashing lights in the hallway were what brought him to a stuttering halt. Letting out a choked whimper, he leaned against a wall. His knees gave out underneath him, breaths coming in quick and shallow. Patch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his empty forearms hard enough to hurt, entire body shaking.Â
Part of him knew he needed to get moving, that he couldnât get left behind, but his armor was back in the barracks, along with every one of his favorite coping strategies, and his shaking limbs refused to support his weight. Hyperventilating, he could practically hear the escape pod groaning as the life-support systems broke down.
Meanwhile, Dogma was passing through the hallway near the barracks. It was his first week back in his own bunk, and it still felt wrong to be safely nestled above Tup, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers, so heâd been wandering the halls waiting for sleep to come when the drill started. Rounding the corner, he nearly tripped over Patch before he caught himself.
âWhat theâ Patch?â
Shaking his head frantically, Patch sat crumpled on the hallway floor, lost in a flashback and muttering to himself, âNo no no no noâ!âÂ
Dogma gave the medic a look of confusion, closely followed by a jolt of alarm, remembering his quiet admissions during group sessions about destroyed Venators and dying escape pods. Even now, he could see the older trooper hyperventilating, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.
âH-Hey, donât do that.â He exclaimed, trying to get Patch to stop gripping his arms so tightly, but Patch didnât even acknowledge his existence, still shuddering in panic.
Dogma shook his head, trying to think of a new approach. At this rate, Patchâs tight grip was definitely going to leave a mark. âStop thatâ uh, here!âÂ
With a grunt of realization, he crouched next to the medic, unclipping his own bracers before starting to attach them to Patchâs arms to give him at least a little bit of protection. Thankfully, this seemed to jolt Patch back to reality, just a little, and he loosened his grip just long enough for Dogma to finish.Â
For a moment, this seemed to help, and Patchâs breathing slowed a little bit as he ran a hand along the armor pieces. But then, to Dogmaâs alarm, his breath hitched and a few tears started to fall.
âHey, d-donât cry!â Dogmaâs hands froze as he watched, but this only made him cry harder, just barely audible over the warning klaxons. Dogmaâs breath caught in his throat; he was incredibly out of his depth.Â
Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his comlink from his belt and tried to comm Tup. Tup would know what to do. He listened to it beep a few times, but the call refused to connect. âHe mustâve left his comm in the barracks,â Dogma thought with dismay.Â
But Patch was still shaking, eyes filled with unshed tears, so he tried again, this time calling Hardcase. Hopefully medbay hadnât been dragged into the evacuation drill. When the comlink chirped, Dogma gave an audible sigh of relief.
âWhat is it, Dogma? Itâs 0200.â Hardcase groaned, still sounding half-asleep.
âPatch is crying.â Dogmaâs voice was tense with nerves as he watched the medic.Â
âWhat?! What happened?â
âI donât know! Probably something to do with the evac drill. Howâ W-What do I do?â
âHeâs crying right now? Like, in front of you?â Hardcase was sounding increasingly concerned, and not nearly awake enough for this.Â
âThatâs what Iâve been saying!âÂ
âThen give him a hug or something! Donât just stand there watching him!âÂ
âA hug?â
He could practically hear Hardcaseâs facepalm. âYes, with your arms! Hang the kriff up and comfort him!â
Dogmaâs eyes widened in trepidation. âUh, Iâll try, butââ
âAnd get someone to turn the kriffing alarms off!â He heard Hardcase say something else, presumably to a medic in medbay, and then the comm call cut off, leaving him alone again.Â
In the short time it had taken to call Hardcase, it looked like Patch had calmed down a little more, but his hands still shook visibly as he sat curled up around his knees, letting out a quiet hiccup every now and then. Dogma took a deep breath, bracing himself before wrapping a stiff arm around Patchâs shoulders.
Patch flinched slightly before leaning into the touch, so Dogma offered him a hand, which he gripped tightly. Hardcase mustâve called someone, because the lights stopped flashing and the alarms petered off, and finally Patch could breathe again.Â
The medic opened his eyes, finally starting to register his surroundings. With an exhale of relief, he slumped into Dogmaâs side. He looked up, blinking in surprise as he began to realize what happened.
â...H-Hey kid. Sorry about that.â His voice was hoarse, and his ears burned with embarrassment as he gave Dogma a sheepish look. He took a few grounding breaths, trying to look a bit less like he was falling apart at the seams.Â
âItâs okay⌠a-are you alright?â Dogma asked, stiffening slightly.
Patch quirked his head to one side, mentally scanning himself before answering honestly. âNo, but I will be⌠c-can we head back to the barracks? Iâd like to grab the rest of my armor before Kix or Coric drags me off to medical.â He could already feel his forearms burning, but he made a noise of surprise when he noticed that the bracers on his arms werenât his own.Â
Dogma nodded, fumbling for a moment before standing up, giving Patch a hand. âSure, uhâ can you stand?â
Giving a grunt of affirmation, Patch took Dogmaâs hand gratefully. He sniffled, trying to avoid getting any more tears and snot on Dogmaâs loaned armor, if he could help it. âYeah, âm good.â
With slow steps, the duo made it back to the barracks. Dogma was quick to help Patch locate his armor, awkwardly offering him a tissue when he sniffled for the 3rd time. âUgh, thanks vodâika.âÂ
Dogma nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. âWhat is it, kid?â Patch asked, still feeling a little guilty at putting him in that situation. Even now, he was reliant on Dogma helping him put his armor back on. He let out a sigh of relief when he could breathe again, safe in its familiar weight.
Biting his lip in frustration, Dogma looked away, breath trembling. âI-I canât â Is there⌠Iâm not good at this! How do I help you?âÂ
Patch blinked in surprise before letting out a huff of amusement. âYou already have, vodâika. You stayed, you found what worked, and you called someone who removed the triggers. Thanks for these, by the way.â He handed back the loaned armor bracers before reaching and grabbing his weighted blanket from his bunk to wrap around his shoulders.
âOhâŚâ Dogma blinked, realizing he had indeed done those things. He watched as Patch reached into his utility belt to grab a metal tin, helping him open it when his shaking hands gave him trouble.
Giving him a nod of thanks, Patch grabbed a mint before offering one to Dogma, which he hesitantly accepted. âSorry for putting you in that situation, Dogma, but you did good.âÂ
Dogma shook his head in refusal. âY-You donât need to apologize. I justâ Iâm not good at thisâŚâ He repeated himself, looking down at his hands. This whole medic assistant thing was pretty daunting, especially for an early-graduated trooper like himself. If it had been the start of the war, thereâs a good chance he would still be on Kamino.
âHeh, nobody is, at first. The first time I helped someone with a blaster wound, I thought I was going to throw up.â Patch cracked a grin, relieved when Dogma returned it.Â
âCome âere, kid.â He lifted one arm, raising the corner of his weighted blanket for Dogma to join him if he wanted. Dogma hesitated for a second before scooting closer to the medic, mirroring their earlier positions, if a bit less awkwardly.Â
A few minutes later, Coric came into the barracks with a couple bacta patches and a look of concern, followed by a wave of troopers more than ready to get back to their bunks. The next day, Captain Rex came by and set up a system for Patch to be alerted before drills, to give him time to put on his armor and use his coping strategies beforehand. They briefly discussed having a designated evacuation partner, in the case of an actual emergency, but settled on simply alerting the other medics (and his closest bunkmates) to be ready to assist Patch in the case of an evacuation.Â
Kix gave him another once-over after firstmeal, changing his bacta patches with an unnecessary level of concern before returning the favor and taking him off of duty for the next 24 hours. He still didnât take off his armor, probably wouldnât for the next couple days. But as he sat in his bunk, curled up under his weighted blanket playing sabaac with Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Jesse, he couldnât say he regretted it. It was nice to be the patient, the one being taken care of, for once.
Full Fic:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Found this guy at goodwill, and with a fresh coat of paint, I now have a new friend!!! The red hand-armor originally belonged to his batchmate, Blunt, and the little bit of paint on his chin is meant to mirror his soul patch/goatee under his helmet đđ
Patch is also a great chore buddy! Sometimes Iâll bring him into whatever room I need to clean, and if I get bored or unmotivated, Iâll imagine him encouraging me, lol đ
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
After the Battle of Khorm, Patch spent the next couple of days walking around in a blur. The last of his batchmates, dead. His commanding officer, dead. Even Commander Wolffe was down for the count, after a fight with Ventress landed him in medbay, minus one eye. With only one of his previous squadmates remaining, Patch comes to the sobering realization that he needs help. Thankfully, he is far from alone.
Prequel to A Series of Hard Knocks, focusing on Patch's mental struggles after the Battle of Khorm.
a   set   of   thought   provoking   questions  based   around   character  development  .   send   a  blue  emoji   to   explore   more   about   your   characters   .
đŚÂ          what  would  your  character  do  if  they  knew  they  could  not  fail  ?
đ          name  3  things  your  character  is  grateful  for  .
đ§Â          when  was  the  last  time  your  character  did  something  for  the  first  time  ?
đ          what  does  your  characterâs  voice  sound  like  ?  do  they  tend  to  use  simple  or  worldly  vocabulary  ?
đŚÂ          what  is  something  your  character  wishes  they  could  go  back  into  the  past  and  redo  ?
đ          what  is  a  memory  that  makes  your  character  feel  proud  ?  describe  the  memory  .
đ          whatâs  in  your  characterâs  handbag  /  briefcase  /  pockets  ?
đŤÂ         is  your  character  proud  of  who  they  are  ?  describe  an  achievement  or  moment  they  are  proud  of  .
đ§Â         what  does  your  character  first  notice  about  another  individual  ?
đ         what  does  your  character  value  more  ââ  creativity  or  practicality  ?
đ§Â         describe  a  time  your  character  did  something  even  though  they  were  scared  .
đ         what  is  your  characterâs  favourite  gift  that  theyâve  received  ?
đ          how  old  does  your  character  feel  on  the  inside  ,  and  why  ?
đ         does  your  character  feel  they  have  passed  up  chances  that  they  presently  regret  ?  describe  what  they  were  .
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Group sessions continue as Patch starts a new system to help the recovering troopers readjust to life on the Resolute. Dogma has the unexpected opportunity to practice his bedside manner. A Patch-centric chapter with some angst in the mix.
Chapter 14:
âWell, I still donât get why the sinks in the freshers are so high! I swear I get splashed in the face every time I try to use âem in this kriffing hoverchair.â One trooper grumbled in annoyance, while a few others nodded in agreement.Â
It was group session time again, and everyone was commiserating over the relative inaccessibility of the Resolute. With the commonality of droids onboard, at least they didnât have to worry about stairs or steep inclines for the most part, but many were discovering just how little the Republic thought about things like accessibility.
It was group session time again, and everyone was commiserating over the relative inaccessibility of the Resolute. With the commonality of droids onboard, at least they didnât have to worry about stairs or steep inclines for the most part, but many were discovering just how little the Republic thought about things like accessibility.
âAlso, who decided that the mess hall benches needed to be permanently attached to the ground. What if I wanna sit in the middle for once?âÂ
Patch nodded, taking notes in a datapad as they spoke. âThatâs a good point. Iâll see if I can ask mechanics if they have any solutions, but it might have to wait until we get reinforcements at our next stop. If nothing else, maybe General Skywalker could put that lightsaber of his to good use and cut some hoverchair spaces into the mess hall tables.â
âThereâs an idea!â Hardcase grinned, joining in the conversation. âIâve only been out of the medbay a couple times, but when I went with Jesse to the mess hall the other day, I couldnât even tell if they were serving green mush or brown mush, the counterâs so high.â
Patch nodded, changing the subject slightly. âIs everyone adjusting alright to sleeping in the barracks? No issues getting into or out of your bunks? Dogmaâs been helping me set up a buddy system for anyone who needs it, so if youâve got squadmates that are interested in helping out with the basics, send them our way.â
Hardcase gave Dogma a friendly nudge, wrapping his good arm around his shoulder before he could protest. âIâve got the best buddy in the whole GAR! Dogma helps me remember meds and helps with dressing changes, and I bug him if he starts looking too bored or depressed. AndâŚâ He gave a cheeky grin, voice lowering into a stage whisper. âHe gives the best massages in the 501st,â earning a couple chuckles from the surrounding troopers.
âShut up,â Dogma grumbled, ears turning pink, but there was zero bite to his tone.
Patch nodded seriously, ignoring the roomâs teasing tone. âPhysical agent modalities like heat and massages are a common therapeutic technique for improving overall function. Theyâre also something I can teach; again, if anyoneâs squadmates are interested in helping out.â
Another trooper spoke up, quieter than the others. âSir, is it true that General Skywalker⌠also has a prosthetic limb?â He looked down at his own arm with trepidation, metal prosthetic as shiny as his armor.
Hardcase nodded before Patch could respond. âYup! Iâve seen him tinkering with it himself. Usually, itâs covered by a glove, but itâs pretty neat! I offered to add some flame-throwers to the design, but he said itâd get in the way of all his jedi stuff.âÂ
Patch held up a hand before anyone could get any ideas. âI just want to say that any and all prosthetic modifications have to go through me before they are implemented, and they need to be checked by at least one senior mechanical officer. Is that clear?â He asked, tone leaving no room for argument.Â
A few troopers groaned in defeat, but let the matter lie for now, at least until Nax offered his services as a senior mechanic. Finally, the excitement died down again so Patch continued.Â
âIâve actually been thinking about inviting the General to one of our sessions, maybe at the end, to share some tips and tricks for managing prosthetics, but I wanted to check with everyone first, given the circumstances.âÂ
Patch looked around the room, worried the suggestion would be taken badly, but to his relief the majority of troopers were nodding or smiling in agreement. Even a few of the shinies who hadnât been with the 501st before Krell looked intrigued at the thought of asking their Jedi about their prosthetics.
Sev, in particular, looked like he was going to bounce out of his seat. âThatâd be so cool!â
Another trooper, presumably Sevâs squadmate, snorted. âSev, you donât even have a prosthetic!â
Sev flipped him off, using his partially severed finger to do so, responding snarkily. âI give this many kriffs about your opinion, vod.â His joke even startled a muffled laugh out of Dogma, who was sitting nearby, before he could stop himself.
Sev shared a victorious look with Hardcase between fending off light-hearted jabs from his friend, and even Patch chuckled at the scene before him.
âAlright, if nobodyâs against it, weâll see if the General can stop by after our next session. Youâre all free to go, but donât let me stop you from spending time with your vode.â Patch nodded, releasing them to go do their various activities.Â
The group sessions tended to vary widely in mood from day to day, but it was always nice to see the injured troopers enjoying each otherâs company, and even Dogma had started to come out of his shell a little.Â
His heart clenched as he thought of last time, with Dogmaâs stuttering explanation of his visit to the Jedi temple, guilt bleeding through as he talked about believing Krell to the point of being tricked into killing his brothers, even aiming his blaster at Tup, and his shocked expression when nobody started berating him or attacking him afterwards, like heâd expected his oriâvode to immediately start hating him. The only reason heâd spoken up at all was because he felt like they deserved to know what he did before they trusted him with their own struggles.Â
Patch shook his head; it was just like Dogma, to put otherâs feelings before his own, including his need for privacy. But it had turned out for the better, with Nax and a couple others giving him their comm numbers at the end, telling him to call them whenever, even for something as little as a late-night snack partner. According to Tup, Dogma was still a little restless sleeping in the barracks, but that night, heâd fallen asleep the moment his head hit his pillow, not waking up for ten hours straight.
Patch exited the rehab room, walking over to Kix, who looked much better than when heâd last seen him. It had taken two days for Kix to obtain the required 10 hours of sleep before he could return to medbay (which turned into 16 hours of sleep between those two days, so he really couldnât complain). Once his squad-mates realized just how tired he was, theyâd started dragging him out of medbay the minute his shift was over, making sure he ate something and even trapping him in his bunk on occasion with some well-timed cat-naps.
âHey Kix, howâs medbay looking? I heard we had a few more ready to be discharged to the barracks?âÂ
Kix nodded, sending Patch a grin. âAffirmative. Honestly, most of the recent transfers are pretty stable, so as soon as their squads are trained on transfers and they learn how to use crutches, a number of them should be able to leave medbay, with daily visits here. That buddy systemâs really going to come in handy.â
Patch hummed in agreement, âGot the idea from your troopers, you know. Youâre the one that originally paired Hardcase and Dogma, and both of them benefitted from the arrangement. Iâve actually been meaning to ask if you thought itâd be a good idea to open it up to the rest of the men as well, give them the opportunity to get support from someone outside their immediate circle.â
Making a noise of interest, Kix paused to think. âWouldnât that encourage codependency?â He grimaced as he thought of Fives and Echo, or himself and his batchmates, for that matter.
âIâm actually hoping this could help counter it, get some troopers to widen their circle of support. Was thinking weâd let Dogma devise a system for pairing troopers. Heâs got a good eye for personalities, actually. He already seems to know whoâs going to enable each other, or whoâd work well, and he isnât afraid to say it when troopers would be a terrible match.â He huffed in amusement.Â
Kix nodded, sharing a look with Patch. When Kix had offered to train Dogma as a medicâs assistant (instead of just an extra set of hands), heâd looked so surprised at the offer. The fact that they saw him as an asset rather than a nuisance was still something he needed to wrap his head around. And yeah, Dogma could stand to learn a couple things about adapting to new scenarios, force knows that treating patients out in the field never turned out quite like it did in the simulations, but he already had a lot of the right instincts.
âWell, if you think itâll help, then Iâm all for it.â Kix cracked a grin. It was about time the 501st got some kind of mental health support.
Patch always heard klaxons in his dreams. Wailing sirens, flashing lights, and shuddering ships were familiar to his subconscious mind. Maybe thatâs why he didnât wake up to the Resoluteâs evacuation drill until Tup was shaking his shoulder, shouting, âCome on, Patch. Weâve gotta go!âÂ
Reality crashed into Patch like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. Before his mind could process his surroundings, he was already standing, following the other troopers as they exited the barracks. Brain jolting in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself tremble with every blaring siren.
The flashing lights in the hallway were what brought him to a stuttering halt. Letting out a choked whimper, he leaned against a wall. His knees gave out underneath him, breaths coming in quick and shallow. Patch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his empty forearms hard enough to hurt, entire body shaking.Â
Part of him knew he needed to get moving, that he couldnât get left behind, but his armor was back in the barracks, along with every one of his favorite coping strategies, and his shaking limbs refused to support his weight. Hyperventilating, he could practically hear the escape pod groaning as the life-support systems broke down.
Meanwhile, Dogma was passing through the hallway near the barracks. It was his first week back in his own bunk, and it still felt wrong to be safely nestled above Tup, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers, so heâd been wandering the halls waiting for sleep to come when the drill started. Rounding the corner, he nearly tripped over Patch before he caught himself.
âWhat theâ Patch?â
Shaking his head frantically, Patch sat crumpled on the hallway floor, lost in a flashback and muttering to himself, âNo no no no noâ!âÂ
Dogma gave the medic a look of confusion, closely followed by a jolt of alarm, remembering his quiet admissions during group sessions about destroyed Venators and dying escape pods. Even now, he could see the older trooper hyperventilating, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.
âH-Hey, donât do that.â He exclaimed, trying to get Patch to stop gripping his arms so tightly, but Patch didnât even acknowledge his existence, still shuddering in panic.
Dogma shook his head, trying to think of a new approach. At this rate, Patchâs tight grip was definitely going to leave a mark. âStop thatâ uh, here!âÂ
With a grunt of realization, he crouched next to the medic, unclipping his own bracers before starting to attach them to Patchâs arms to give him at least a little bit of protection. Thankfully, this seemed to jolt Patch back to reality, just a little, and he loosened his grip just long enough for Dogma to finish.Â
For a moment, this seemed to help, and Patchâs breathing slowed a little bit as he ran a hand along the armor pieces. But then, to Dogmaâs alarm, his breath hitched and a few tears started to fall.
âHey, d-donât cry!â Dogmaâs hands froze as he watched, but this only made him cry harder, just barely audible over the warning klaxons. Dogmaâs breath caught in his throat; he was incredibly out of his depth.Â
Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his comlink from his belt and tried to comm Tup. Tup would know what to do. He listened to it beep a few times, but the call refused to connect. âHe mustâve left his comm in the barracks,â Dogma thought with dismay.Â
But Patch was still shaking, eyes filled with unshed tears, so he tried again, this time calling Hardcase. Hopefully medbay hadnât been dragged into the evacuation drill. When the comlink chirped, Dogma gave an audible sigh of relief.
âWhat is it, Dogma? Itâs 0200.â Hardcase groaned, still sounding half-asleep.
âPatch is crying.â Dogmaâs voice was tense with nerves as he watched the medic.Â
âWhat?! What happened?â
âI donât know! Probably something to do with the evac drill. Howâ W-What do I do?â
âHeâs crying right now? Like, in front of you?â Hardcase was sounding increasingly concerned, and not nearly awake enough for this.Â
âThatâs what Iâve been saying!âÂ
âThen give him a hug or something! Donât just stand there watching him!âÂ
âA hug?â
He could practically hear Hardcaseâs facepalm. âYes, with your arms! Hang the kriff up and comfort him!â
Dogmaâs eyes widened in trepidation. âUh, Iâll try, butââ
âAnd get someone to turn the kriffing alarms off!â He heard Hardcase say something else, presumably to a medic in medbay, and then the comm call cut off, leaving him alone again.Â
In the short time it had taken to call Hardcase, it looked like Patch had calmed down a little more, but his hands still shook visibly as he sat curled up around his knees, letting out a quiet hiccup every now and then. Dogma took a deep breath, bracing himself before wrapping a stiff arm around Patchâs shoulders.
Patch flinched slightly before leaning into the touch, so Dogma offered him a hand, which he gripped tightly. Hardcase mustâve called someone, because the lights stopped flashing and the alarms petered off, and finally Patch could breathe again.Â
The medic opened his eyes, finally starting to register his surroundings. With an exhale of relief, he slumped into Dogmaâs side. He looked up, blinking in surprise as he began to realize what happened.
â...H-Hey kid. Sorry about that.â His voice was hoarse, and his ears burned with embarrassment as he gave Dogma a sheepish look. He took a few grounding breaths, trying to look a bit less like he was falling apart at the seams.Â
âItâs okay⌠a-are you alright?â Dogma asked, stiffening slightly.
Patch quirked his head to one side, mentally scanning himself before answering honestly. âNo, but I will be⌠c-can we head back to the barracks? Iâd like to grab the rest of my armor before Kix or Coric drags me off to medical.â He could already feel his forearms burning, but he made a noise of surprise when he noticed that the bracers on his arms werenât his own.Â
Dogma nodded, fumbling for a moment before standing up, giving Patch a hand. âSure, uhâ can you stand?â
Giving a grunt of affirmation, Patch took Dogmaâs hand gratefully. He sniffled, trying to avoid getting any more tears and snot on Dogmaâs loaned armor, if he could help it. âYeah, âm good.â
With slow steps, the duo made it back to the barracks. Dogma was quick to help Patch locate his armor, awkwardly offering him a tissue when he sniffled for the 3rd time. âUgh, thanks vodâika.âÂ
Dogma nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. âWhat is it, kid?â Patch asked, still feeling a little guilty at putting him in that situation. Even now, he was reliant on Dogma helping him put his armor back on. He let out a sigh of relief when he could breathe again, safe in its familiar weight.
Biting his lip in frustration, Dogma looked away, breath trembling. âI-I canât â Is there⌠Iâm not good at this! How do I help you?âÂ
Patch blinked in surprise before letting out a huff of amusement. âYou already have, vodâika. You stayed, you found what worked, and you called someone who removed the triggers. Thanks for these, by the way.â He handed back the loaned armor bracers before reaching and grabbing his weighted blanket from his bunk to wrap around his shoulders.
âOhâŚâ Dogma blinked, realizing he had indeed done those things. He watched as Patch reached into his utility belt to grab a metal tin, helping him open it when his shaking hands gave him trouble.
Giving him a nod of thanks, Patch grabbed a mint before offering one to Dogma, which he hesitantly accepted. âSorry for putting you in that situation, Dogma, but you did good.âÂ
Dogma shook his head in refusal. âY-You donât need to apologize. I justâ Iâm not good at thisâŚâ He repeated himself, looking down at his hands. This whole medic assistant thing was pretty daunting, especially for an early-graduated trooper like himself. If it had been the start of the war, thereâs a good chance he would still be on Kamino.
âHeh, nobody is, at first. The first time I helped someone with a blaster wound, I thought I was going to throw up.â Patch cracked a grin, relieved when Dogma returned it.Â
âCome âere, kid.â He lifted one arm, raising the corner of his weighted blanket for Dogma to join him if he wanted. Dogma hesitated for a second before scooting closer to the medic, mirroring their earlier positions, if a bit less awkwardly.Â
A few minutes later, Coric came into the barracks with a couple bacta patches and a look of concern, followed by a wave of troopers more than ready to get back to their bunks. The next day, Captain Rex came by and set up a system for Patch to be alerted before drills, to give him time to put on his armor and use his coping strategies beforehand. They briefly discussed having a designated evacuation partner, in the case of an actual emergency, but settled on simply alerting the other medics (and his closest bunkmates) to be ready to assist Patch in the case of an evacuation.Â
Kix gave him another once-over after firstmeal, changing his bacta patches with an unnecessary level of concern before returning the favor and taking him off of duty for the next 24 hours. He still didnât take off his armor, probably wouldnât for the next couple days. But as he sat in his bunk, curled up under his weighted blanket playing sabaac with Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Jesse, he couldnât say he regretted it. It was nice to be the patient, the one being taken care of, for once.
Hardcase thought he knew what he was getting into, sacrificing himself for his brothers. What he didnât expect was to survive, for Fives to pull him away from the explosions and bring him back down to Umbara. He definitely didnât expect to be refused medical treatment and to be left fighting for his life. Kix says itâs going to be a long road to recovery, and heâs starting to wonder what ârecoveryâ even looks like after something like this...
Itâs been a while since Iâve posted here, but Iâve been writing a fic with Patch in it, and Iâve had a lot of thoughts on his character development recently, so I thought Iâd share! When I post the next chapter, Iâll probably post a link here as well!
Patch is an original 104th member (pre-Malevolence); he was in the escape pod with Wolffe (in his medic grays) when the Malevolence attacked, and has some related traumaÂ
Appearance: has a sole patch on his chin (like Waxerâs, but rounder), hair slightly longer than regulation (just a bit of grey); heâs slightly less active than his brothers, so heâs not a stick like most clones; (his metabolism is also starting to slow down, being one of the older clones). His armor has a grey stripe on the chin like his sole patch, and his paint is wolfpack grey, except for one of his gloves, which has a stripe of red paint.
Patch is very warm and affectionate around his brothers (great bedside manner), but can lash out in anger a little bit when heâs triggered; has dealt with depression in the past, but is doing a lot better nowadays
Has aviophobia (fear of flying/dying in something that flies), and definitely had a panic attack the last time he tried going on a Jedi cruiser
Was struggling mentally after the Malevolence, but it came to a head at the Battle of Khorm, when he lost his last batchmate, Blunt, and developed depression. During this time, his aviophobia got bad to the point that he had to be sedated anytime he went on a gunship.
Through some finagling, General Plo managed to get him reassigned to Coruscant, where he was stationed at the Coruscant Medical facility, and took classes to be a rehab specialist (although heâs still officially listed as a member of the 104th). The 104th, being a rescue battalion, is on-planet more often than most, so he still gets to see them fairly often.
Saw mindhealers at the jedi temple for a while, where he learned multiple grounding techniques to combat his aviophobia, including eating a mint, listening to music, and the occasional fidget toy (he likes the textured ones). Heâs more than happy to share his coping strategies with his vode, and can use CBT strategies as part of his training as a rehab specialist (although isnât certified as a mental health specialist).
After the Umbara campaign, multiple 501st troopers are needing PT/OT services, so when Rex sends out the temporary assignment request, Patch accepts (heâs doing better mentally now, and has been wanting to face his fears and hopefully join the 104th full-time soon, now that his rehab specialist training is done)
Doesnât like taking off his armor because of Malevolence-related trauma, and only really does so to sleep; sleeps with a weighted blanket gifted to him by General Plo (bunks near Tup and Dogma when with the 501st)
Is on temporary assignment with the 501st (in my fic); hopes to rejoin the 104th afterwards, assuming he can handle living on a Jedi cruiser again
has a lot of old-man habits, and constantly acts like heâs 50-years old instead of barely 26 standards
*the tension in Patchâs shoulders eases slightly and a few of the worry lines fade as he gives them a small smile in thanks* Thatâs really nice of you, anon, thank you.Â
*gives his arms a stretch as he lets out a wide yawn* Medbayâs been pretty busy the past few days, havenât had much of a break since our last mission... lost a few good vode... so I really appreciate you coming down here to cheer me up.
*spares a worried glance at the rest of medbay as he considers taking a short nap to recharge* If you wouldnât mind, thereâs a few others stuck in medbay who could do with some encouragement too. If youâve got somewhere to be, I get it, but I hate leaving them alone with their thoughts after a battle like this...
