Hiiii! Can you maybe write some Headcanons about the clones not knowing what a period is? Maybe they weren’t taught about female anatomy on kamino or something and so when you start dating and get your period for the first time they think your dying Lmao. Thank you!💜
Rex had faced battlefields, explosions, and injuries that would make most people faint. None of that prepared him for waking up beside you and finding blood on the sheets.
His heart nearly stopped.
He was instantly on his feet, calling your name, searching for a wound with trembling hands. His military instincts took over before you were even fully awake. He was already reaching for the medkit and trying to contact a medic.
When you blinked at him in confusion and quietly said, “Rex, it’s just my period,” he froze.
“Your what?”
He had never heard the term before.
You had to sit him down and explain everything from the beginning, uterus, menstrual cycle, hormones, pregnancy, ovulation. He listened with absolute focus, asking careful questions as if he were attending a briefing.
“So, this happens every month?”
You nodded.
“And you’ve been dealing with this since you were a teenager?”
Another nod.
He stared at you in complete disbelief.
“Every month you bleed, and you’re expected to just continue living your life?”
When you explained cramps, headaches, nausea, exhaustion, and mood swings, Rex looked genuinely horrified.
“They never taught us any of this on Kamino.”
He couldn’t stop apologising for panicking.
“I thought you were dying.”
After that morning, Rex became incredibly attentive during your cycle. He memorized which heating pad you liked, made sure pain medication was always stocked, and quietly took over chores whenever cramps hit.
If anyone dismissed period pain around him, he’d shut it down immediately.
“I’ve seen soldiers with blaster burns complain less than my girl does during cramps. Maybe don’t assume it’s ‘just discomfort.’”
He’d never completely get over the fact you went through this every month.
Every single time your period started, he’d give you the same sympathetic look.
“I still think biology is unfair.”
And every month he’d somehow become even more convinced that women were tougher than clones.
Cody
Cody’s first reaction, like Rex’s, was pure panic.
The blood was everywhere, or at least it looked that way to him.
He immediately assumed internal injuries, poisoning, or some delayed complication from a mission. Before you could even sit up, he was checking your pulse and asking rapid-fire questions.
“Where does it hurt? Can you stand? Are you dizzy?”
You finally caught his hands.
“Cody, I’m okay.”
He looked at you like you’d lost your mind.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s my period.”
His confusion was almost impressive.
“Explain.”
Once you walked him through female anatomy, Cody became unusually quiet.
He processed information the same way he processed tactical reports.
“So the uterus prepares for pregnancy.”
You nodded.
“If pregnancy doesn’t happen…”
“It sheds the lining.”
“Through bleeding.”
“Exactly.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“And this repeats every month?”
“Pretty much.”
His expression became one of genuine outrage.
“They couldn’t have mentioned this in Kaminoan education?”
You laughed.
“I guess they didn’t expect clones to need reproductive health lessons.”
“No, apparently not.”
Learning about cramps only made things worse.
“You mean the muscles contract hard enough to cause pain?”
“Sometimes, it can be really painful.”
“And society just, expects you to work anyway?”
His respect for women increased dramatically in that moment.
From then on, Cody treated your period like an operation that required logistical support.
Extra blankets.
Water.
Medicine.
Your favourite snacks.
He kept track of roughly when it would happen, not because he found it embarrassing, but because he wanted to be prepared.
Whenever you insisted you were fine despite obvious pain, he’d give you the same look.
He also became the clone most likely to quietly educate younger troopers.
“No, she’s not dying.”
Wolffe
Wolffe’s protective instincts were almost frightening.
He woke, saw blood, and immediately assumed someone had attacked you during the night.
His blaster was in his hand before he was fully awake.
After confirming no intruders were present, he turned all that panic toward you.
“Where are you hurt?”
You sighed.
“Wolffe.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s just my period.”
“Your what?”
He genuinely thought you were making up a word to stop him worrying.
The explanation took almost half an hour.
He listened without interrupting, his eyes fixed on you.
When you finally explained cramps, he frowned deeply.
“So every month your body decides to attack itself.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“I don’t like your body’s strategy.”
Learning it had happened for years made him visibly irritated.
“No one thought to warn us?”
“No.”
“Unbelievable.”
Afterward, Wolffe became fiercely protective.
If cramps kept you in bed, he’d simply tell everyone you weren’t available.
Didn’t matter who asked.
If you wanted tea or a hot drink, then he’d make it.
If you wanted silence, the barracks or your apartment became silent.
If anyone joked about periods around him, they immediately regretted it.
“You think it’s funny?”
“No, Commander.”
“Good.”
He never babied you, though.
Instead, he’d quietly sit beside you with a heating pad already warmed and say,
“What do you need?”
Nothing more.
Because once he understood what you endured every month, helping simply became another way of taking care of someone he loved.
Fox
Fox’s reaction was the most dramatic.
He actually called for emergency medical assistance.
You had barely opened your eyes before he was trying to lift you into his arms.
“There isn’t time.”
“Fox!”
“You’re hemorrhaging.”
“I’m not!”
He refused to believe you until you physically stopped him.
“It’s my period.”
“That’s a medical term?”
The explanation completely derailed his morning.
Fox was a commander.
He understood criminal law, security, emergency medicine but he knew absolutely nothing about menstruation.
When you explained that periods happened monthly, he blinked.
“Monthly.”
“Yes.”
“Repeatedly.”
“Yes.”
“For decades?”
“Usually.”
He looked personally offended on your behalf.
“That’s terrible.”
After learning about cramps, he became incredibly practical.
Painkillers appeared before you asked.
Comfort food somehow arrived despite his impossible schedule.
He also quietly kept spare menstrual products in his office.
Just in case.
He figured if you ever got caught unexpectedly, he’d rather be prepared than helpless.
You laughed for ten minutes when you discovered them.
“What?”
“It’s sweet.”
“I prefer to be prepared.”
He still couldn’t believe the Kaminoans omitted something so important.
“We learned advanced battlefield medicine.”
“Apparently not this.”
“No.”
Fives
Fives absolutely lost his mind.
“Why is there blood everywhere?!”
He nearly fell out of bed trying to find the injury.
When you started laughing instead of panicking, he became even more confused.
“This isn’t funny!”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s absolutely not!”
“It’s my period!”
“Your what now?”
Unlike some of the others, Fives asked approximately a thousand questions.
“So that’s normal?”
“Yep.”
“Every month?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
You explained everything to him.
“That’s rude.”
You explained cramps.
“Even ruder.”
You explained mood swings.
“Periods are officially my enemy.”
By the end, he looked deeply betrayed by women’s biology.
“I cannot believe nobody told us.”
Afterward, Fives became the king of period support.
Need chocolate?
Already bought it.
Need distractions?
Movie marathon.
Need someone to complain to?
He’s already listening.
He’d happily let you rant about cramps for hours.
The moment you apologised for being grumpy, he’d immediately interrupt.
“You’re literally bleeding. You’re allowed.”
He also developed an irrational hatred of the menstrual cycle itself.
Whenever you announced your period had started, he’d dramatically glare upward.
“Who designed this?”
You’d laugh every single time.
He never stopped finding the whole concept unbelievable.
But he never stopped trying to make those days easier either.
Hunter
Hunter knew something was wrong before he even opened his eyes.
The scent of blood hit him immediately.
His enhanced senses sent him into instant alert.
He thought you’d been gravely injured.
By the time you woke up, he was already checking every inch of you for wounds.
You gently explained.
He listened in silence.
The more he learned, the more disturbed he became.
“My senses never warned me before because, this is normal.”
“Exactly.”
“And this happens every month.”
“Yes.”
“That explains so much.”
Hunter immediately started paying attention to subtle changes before your period even arrived.
He’d notice you feeling different.
More tired.
Hungrier.
Mood shifts.
Without mentioning it, he’d quietly adjust plans to give you easier days.
He became incredibly gentle during cramps.
Always asking before touching you.
Always making sure you were comfortable.
He respected how resilient you were.
“I complain when my enhanced senses give me headaches.”
“You bleed every month.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve underestimated you.”
From then on, he treated your period as something to support, not something awkward or embarrassing.
Howzer
Howzer was pure concern wrapped in sunshine.
He panicked immediately but tried very hard to stay calm for your sake.
“Everything’s okay.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
When you explained menstruation, he listened with wide eyes.
“You’ve been going through this for years?”
“Mhm.”
“And nobody prepared us for this?”
“Nope.”
He looked genuinely guilty for not knowing.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
After learning about cramps, he’d fuss over you endlessly.
Blankets.
Tea.
Flowers.
Comfort food.
He constantly checked in.
“Pain level?”
You’d roll your eyes.
“I’m okay.”
“I’ll ask again in an hour.”
His kindness somehow made everything feel easier.
Mayday
Mayday had seen too many troopers bleed out.
Seeing blood in bed triggered every survival instinct he had.
When he realised it wasn’t life-threatening, the relief nearly knocked him over.
Then came the explanation.
He listened quietly.
No interruptions.
Just thoughtful questions.
At the end he sighed heavily.
“So every month, nature reminds you it exists.”
“Pretty much.”
He hated hearing about the pain.
“You deserve a medal.”
After that, he’d always make sure you rested.
He’d cook.
Handle chores.
Wrap you in blankets.
Never once made you feel guilty for slowing down.
“You take care of everyone else.”
“Let me take care of you today.”
Gregor
Gregor’s first response was chaotic panic.
Second response?
Confused panic.
Third response?
Embarrassed panic.
“Why didn’t anyone tell us women do this?!”
You couldn’t stop laughing.
Gregor peppered you with questions.
“So it’s scheduled?”
“Usually.”
“Your body just decides?”
“Basically.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He treated your period like an annoying recurring villain.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“It’s back.”
He’d dramatically declare war on cramps.
Offer massages.
Tell terrible jokes.
Bring snacks.
Anything to make you smile.
If laughter helped even a little, he’d consider the mission successful.
Echo
Echo approached it like solving a technical problem.
He panicked first, of course.
But once you explained menstruation, he immediately wanted to understand every detail.
He even admitted,
“I feel embarrassed I didn’t know this.”
You assured him it wasn’t his fault.
He learned about hormones, uterine contractions, and pain with genuine curiosity.
Summary: Ella disobeys orders and faces Wolffe’s wrath.
Warnings: Death, injury
WC: 5026
Preparations for the next deployment had begun.
The Venator thrummed steadily as technicians hurried through the hangar, loaders pushed crates of ammunition toward waiting gunships, and troopers moved with the quiet efficiency that came only from experience. The optimism that had lingered after the previous mission had settled into something steadier. They had survived. Better than that, they had all come home. There had been no rows of empty bunks, no hurried emergency surgeries, no names quietly removed from rosters.
Now it was time to do it again.
Ella stood in the medbay inventory room, carefully checking bacta reserves against her datapad. She had already restocked trauma kits, sterilised instruments, and prepared emergency field packs for another operation. The routine had become strangely familiar over the past weeks.
Weeks. It amazed her how quickly this battalion had become home.
When she had first stepped aboard the cruiser, she had expected polite distance at best. The clones had every reason to distrust another civilian medic assigned by the Republic. She had imagined awkward conversations, questioning looks, and constant efforts to prove herself.
Instead, little by little, she'd earned something she hadn't realised she wanted so badly.
Their trust.
Boost wandered into the medbay simply to chat while pretending he had a reason to be there, Sinker had started quietly asking her opinion during tactical briefings without making a spectacle of it, and Comet had developed the habit of leaving fresh caf outside her office whenever he happened to pass the galley before her.
The younger shinies greeted her by name in the corridors. Even Wolffe, despite his permanently intimidating expression, now sought her judgement without hesitation.
She had stopped feeling like an outsider. Without noticing when it had happened, she'd become one of them.
A knock echoed softly against the open doorway.
"Ella?"
She looked up to find Boost leaning casually against the frame. "You busy?"
She smiled faintly. "When aren't I?"
"Fair point."
He glanced behind him before lowering his voice dramatically. "We need you."
She frowned. "Is someone hurt?"
"No."
"Equipment issue?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Boost grinned. "It's a surprise."
Ella narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I don't like surprises."
"It's a good surprise"
"That doesn't reassure me."
Boost grins. "It wasn't supposed to."
Before she could protest further, Boost gently closed her datapad. "C'mon."
Curiosity finally won.
She followed him through the cruiser corridors until they reached one of the quieter equipment bays. The room was mostly empty apart from several workbenches covered in armour components and maintenance tools.
Waiting inside were Sinker and Comet. All three looked strangely pleased with themselves.
Ella folded her arms. "What have you done?"
"Nothing," Sinker answered.
"Yet," Comet added.
That did not inspire confidence.
Boost stepped forward, carrying a long rectangular case and set it carefully onto the workbench. "We've been working on something."
Ella blinked.
"For the next mission."
He unclipped the catches and the lid slowly lifted. Inside rested a pair of beautifully crafted forearm guards. The armour gleamed under the overhead lights, forged from polished durasteel that matched the muted grey tones of Wolfpack armour. Unlike standard clone plating, these pieces were slimmer, shaped to fit her smaller frame without sacrificing protection. Reinforced plating covered the forearms while flexible joints near the wrists allowed unrestricted movement. Along the outer edge were discreet attachment points for medical equipment, giving her immediate access to bacta injectors, scanners, and emergency supplies without reaching into her satchel.
But it wasn't the craftsmanship that stole her breath.
Painted proudly onto each vambrace was the unmistakable Wolfpack insignia. The snarling wolf's head. Their symbol.
Ella looked between the armour and the three troopers. "You guys." Her voice whispered.
Sinker rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "We noticed."
"Noticed what?" she asked quietly.
"You keep ending up in the middle of firefights."
Boost nodded. "You spend half your time dragging idiots out of blaster fire."
"Mostly him," Comet muttered, jerking a thumb toward Boost.
Boost ignored him. "We figured if you're going to keep running onto the battlefield after us..."
"You should have something better than medical fatigues," Sinker finished.
Ella reached out almost hesitantly. Her fingertips brushed the cool metal. It was very carefully made. Someone had spent hours designing these.
"They're reinforced," Comet explained.
"Light enough that you can still work," Sinker added.
Ella barely heard them. She simply continued staring at the Wolfpack emblem. Their emblem. Not Republic markings or medical insignia. Theirs.
"You put your signet on them."
The three exchanged glances. Boost shrugged. "Well, you are part of the Wolfpack."
The room fell completely silent.
Ella looked up so quickly she almost thought she'd misheard him. "What?"
"You heard me."
"But I'm not a clone."
"No."
"I'm not a soldier."
"No."
"I'm just your medic."
Sinker shook his head. "No."
She frowned in confusion. "You've stopped being 'just the medic' a while ago."
Comet nodded. "You patch us up."
"You keep us alive."
"You argue with our tactical plans."
"You make better ones."
"You refuse to leave people behind."
Boost smiled. "Sounds Wolfpack enough to me."
Something tightened painfully in Ella's chest as she looked back down at the armour.
Since arriving aboard the cruiser, she'd tried so hard not to overstep. She had reminded herself constantly that this wasn't her battalion. These men had served together through things she couldn't begin to understand. They shared faces, memories, losses, and an understanding she could never truly possess.
She had believed she would always stand just outside that circle. Welcomed and respected but separate.
Yet somewhere between impossible injuries, endless mission briefings, late-night conversations, and countless cups of caf, the line had quietly disappeared. Not because she'd forced herself into it but because they'd invited her.
The armour in front of her wasn't simply protective equipment. It was acceptance made tangible. A place she'd never expected to earn.
She swallowed hard. "I don't know what to say."
Boost smiled warmly. "You don't have to say anything."
"No," Ella said quietly, her voice beginning to tremble. "I do."
She carefully lifted one of the vambraces from the case. It was lighter than she'd expected. The Wolfpack insignia caught the light as she turned it slowly in her hands.
"So much work went into this."
Sinker shrugged. "Worth it."
"You all made this?"
"We had help from the armourers."
"But the design was ours."
Ella laughed softly through suspiciously bright eyes. "Of course it was."
She looked down again, running her thumb gently over the painted wolf's head. "I've spent most of my life trying to help people," she said quietly.
"At university, at hospitals, I treated patients every day." She smiled sadly. "But they always left. There was never time to really know anyone."
Her gaze lifted toward the three men. "Then I came here."
"I thought I'd just be another medic passing through."
She shook her head. "Instead, you accepted me as your own.”
The words surprised even her, and the room became very quiet.
Ella looked around at the bay. "I know none of you asked for another civilian. I know I slowed you down at first. I know I questioned plans."
Boost snorted. "You still do."
"I do." She smiled. “And somehow, you never made me feel like I didn't belong." Her fingers tightened gently around the armour. "This means more than I can explain."
Ella’s voice cracked slightly as she looked at them. "I don't think I've ever received a gift that meant this much."
For once, even Boost didn't have a joke ready. Sinker quietly cleared his throat. "We figured if anyone had earned it,” He gestured toward the armour. "It was you."
Ella carefully set the vambrace down before stepping forward, and without saying a word, she wrapped Boost in a quick hug. He froze. She moved to Sinker next. His surprised expression softened as he awkwardly returned it. Finally she hugged Comet, who chuckled quietly.
When she stepped back, all three looked vaguely embarrassed.
Boost scratched the back of his neck. "We're never telling anyone this happened."
Ella laughed, wiping discreetly at the corner of one eye. "Your secret's safe."
She fastened one vambrace onto her left arm. The fit was perfect. Then the second. The armour sat comfortably beneath her sleeves, light enough to move naturally while feeling reassuringly solid.
She flexed her wrists. "It fits."
"We measured one of your tops."
Ella looked at Boost. "You what?"
"You left it in the medbay."
"You stole my top?"
"Borrowed."
She raised an eyebrow. "Boost."
"Temporarily borrowed."
She shook her head, laughing again. "I cannot believe you."
This battle was already very different from the last. There were many more droids and enemy interference than intel had suggested there would be. The sound of blaster fire resounded throughout the valley. It clanged loudly off droids and sizzled through troopers' armour with a yell.
They were outnumbered, vastly outnumbered. Everyone could see it. Not everyone was going to make it out of this battle alive.
The first major explosion came before anyone could even register it was happening. The ground lurched beneath the Wolfpack as a concealed mine detonated against the crumbling roadway, throwing dust, broken duracrete and smoke into the air.
"Contact!"
Blaster fire erupted from the shattered buildings lining the narrow street and red bolts streaked through the haze.
"Take cover!" Wolffe barked.
The Wolfpack moved instantly, long stretches of fighting together evident in every movement. Sinker and Comet secured the left flank while Boost directed two younger troopers behind the remains of a collapsed transport. Wolffe was already returning fire, barking orders through the comms with calm precision despite the chaos erupting around them.
Ella ducked behind a section of fractured wall as another barrage of blaster bolts scorched overhead. Her new forearm armour caught the light as she pressed herself against the stone. The Wolfpack insignia was already smeared with dust.
"Medic!" someone shouted.
Another voice followed immediately. "Trooper down!"
Ella was already moving. She sprinted through the smoke, weaving between clone troopers exchanging fire with the Separatists. Her scanner was already in her hand before she reached the source of the cry.
A young clone lay against the remains of a collapsed doorway.
His armour was almost spotless. Too spotless. This was his first deployment.
Ella recognised him immediately. His name was Nash. She had treated him only yesterday after he'd managed to slice his own hand while cleaning his rifle.
He'd been so embarrassed.
"So, does everyone do that their first week?" he'd asked sheepishly.
She'd laughed. "No."
His face had fallen. "Oh."
She'd smiled. "But almost everyone does something equally embarrassing."
He'd grinned then. "I'm glad it's not just me."
She remembered promising she'd patch him up properly if he got himself into trouble again. Now she dropped to her knees beside him.
"Hey."
His helmet had come loose during the blast. Wide brown eyes found hers immediately. "Doc."
"I'm here."
His breathing was quick and uneven. She scanned him as quickly as she could, and her stomach tightened. No. The readings weren't right. They couldn't be.
She checked again, and the scanner gave exactly the same result. Internally, she knew. She knew before she even opened her medical kit. She pushed the thought away.
No. Not yet. Not while there was still something she could do.
"Stay with me."
"I'm trying," he whispered.
His voice sounded impossibly young.
She immediately began sealing what injuries she could, administering pain relief while trying desperately to stabilise him enough for evacuation.
Around them, the battle continued. Blaster fire echoed through the ruined streets. Orders crackled across the comms. None of it seemed to reach Ella anymore. Her entire world had narrowed to the frightened young clone lying in front of her.
"What happens now?"
She looked up. "You let me worry about that."
He gave the smallest nod. "Okay."
Somewhere behind her, Wolffe shouted another command and the Wolfpack advanced. The line was moving forward, but Ella stayed exactly where she was.
"Doc."
She smiled, reassuringly. "I'm here."
"I'm sorry."
She frowned. "What for?"
"I think," His breathing caught. "I messed up."
"No. You didn't."
"It was my fault. I didn't," He swallowed. "I didn't see them."
Ella gently adjusted the blanket beneath his shoulders. "You don't have to explain anything."
"I wanted," He blinked slowly. "To do a good job."
"You did."
"It was my first mission."
"I know."
"I wanted the Commander to think," His voice weakened, struck with emotion. "That I belonged here."
Ella's chest tightened painfully. "You do belong here."
He smiled faintly. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
The scanner beeped again. Its warning tone was quiet. Ella silenced it.
"Doc?"
"Hm?"
"Am I going home?"
The question hit her harder than any explosion could have. She couldn't answer. Not honestly.
Instead, she reached over and gently adjusted his helmet liner where it had slipped over one eye. "We're going to stay together."
His eyes searched hers, and she knew he understood more than she wanted him to. "Okay." He whispered it almost peacefully.
Across the street, Wolffe noticed. His eyes tracked immediately to Ella's position. She hadn't moved. The casualty marker on his HUD showed multiple wounded. Another trooper called over the comm.
"Commander, we've got two more down on the east side!"
Wolffe answered without hesitation. "Medic to the eastern position."
No reply. His gaze returned to Ella as she remained kneeling beside the same trooper.
"Medic."
Still nothing.
"Doctor Starling."
She didn't even look up. "I'm occupied."
His jaw tightened. There wasn't time. He crossed the battlefield quickly, deflecting incoming fire with precise bursts from his rifle before dropping beside her. "Doctor."
She finally glanced up. "What?"
"There are other wounded."
"I know."
"They need you."
"I'm treating him."
Wolffe looked down, and one glance at the scanner display was enough. He understood immediately. The prognosis was clear. His expression hardened, not from lack of compassion, but because he'd seen this too many times.
"Doc." She continued working. "There are still troopers you can save."
"I'm trying to save him."
"No." His voice remained steady. "You're trying to keep him alive."
She looked up sharply but said nothing.
"He won't survive transport."
Her hands froze for only a fraction of a second before continuing. "You don't know that."
"I do."
"No. You don’t"
"Doctor Starling."
"I'm not leaving him."
Another explosion shook the street. Dust rained around them. Behind them, Boost shouted for assistance. "Commander!"
"We need the medic!"
Ella flinched. She heard it, yet she simply couldn't move. Not yet. Not this frightened young man who'd been excitedly asking her questions over breakfast only yesterday. He reached weakly toward her hand.
She immediately took it.
"I'm scared." His voice was barely audible.
She squeezed his fingers. "I know."
"I'm here."
Wolffe watched the exchange. Something inside him tightened. He understood exactly what Ella was doing. He also knew what it would cost.
"Doctor."
She didn't answer.
"You have your orders."
"I'm staying."
His eyes narrowed. "That is an order."
She finally looked directly at him. Her eyes were bright with tears. "I'm not abandoning him."
"I'm ordering you to treat those who still have a chance."
"And I'm treating him."
"He is beyond your help."
"No."
"He is beyond medical intervention."
She shook her head fiercely. "He still needs someone."
"He had you. And now you're needed elsewhere."
"He still needs me now."
The words were louder than she intended. For a brief moment, even the surrounding troopers seemed to pause. Wolffe stared at her. Never once since she'd joined the battalion had she challenged him. Not once. Until now.
"Doctor Starling." His tone dropped lower. "Move."
"No."
"You are disobeying a direct order."
"I know."
"Move."
"No."
He reached down, intending to pull her to her feet. Not roughly, simply firmly enough to get her moving.
The moment his hand closed around her upper arm, she shoved him away. Hard. Not enough to hurt him but enough to break his grip.
"Don't touch me." The words came out sharper than any of them had ever heard from her. Wolffe actually took half a step back. Shock flashed across his face beneath his helmet.
The surrounding troopers stared. No one, no one pushed Commander Wolffe.
Ella was breathing hard now. Tears streaked through the dust coating her face. "Back off." The words trembled. "Please."
Her attention returned immediately to the young trooper. She brushed dirt from the side of his helmet. "You don't have to be alone."
She spoke so softly Wolffe almost didn't hear it.
"You hear me? I'm staying."
The clone looked between them with tired eyes. "Commander?"
Wolffe crouched again. This time, not as a commanding officer. Simply as a brother. "I'm here, trooper."
"I'm sorry."
"There is nothing to apologise for."
"I tried."
"I know."
"You did well."
The young clone smiled faintly. "Really?"
"You carried out your duty." Wolffe's voice was quiet. "You made your brothers proud."
The trooper's shoulders relaxed, and his gaze shifted back toward Ella. "Don't let go."
She swallowed. "I won't."
Another call crackled across the command channel. "Commander! East side secured!"
Looking toward Sinker, he made a decision. "Boost, cover this position."
"Sinker. Get the other wounded to Jayr.”
Both clones blinked. "What about Ella?"
"I gave her an order." He paused. "She made her choice."
Without another word, Wolffe turned and rejoined the battle. His body language remained unreadable. Inside, however, his thoughts refused to settle. He had never had one of his officers disobey him. Never. Especially not a civilian.
She had challenged him in front of the battalion. Pushed him away, ignored repeated direct orders. Every instinct told him he should be furious. Part of him was. Part of him was very aggrieved and irritated that she disobeyed his orders, no one ever dared defy him. But the other part of him couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd said those three words. He needs me.
And it wasn't because she believed she could save him but rather because she believed no one should face their final moments alone. It wasn't tactically sound. It wasn't militarily efficient. It wasn't what commanders could afford to do in the middle of a battle. But it was profoundly, painfully kind.
Hours later, after the fighting had ended and the gunships lifted away from the ruined city, Ella finally boarded the transport in complete silence. She was struggling. Badly. But she didn't dare try to show it, didn't dare to even register it. She couldn't. Not now, when injured troops were relying on her. Not when they needed her help.
She rested her forearms on her knees. The Wolfpack insignia painted onto her new armour was stained with dust and soot. She traced it absentmindedly with one thumb.
Across the troop bay, Wolffe watched her. Neither of them spoke during the entire journey back to the cruiser.
For the first time since Ella had first met the rugged Commander, there was a hard distance between them. Not built from mistrust but from grief.
And both of them knew that, once they returned aboard the ship, they would have to face a conversation neither of them was looking forward to.
Once back aboard the Venator, the medbay had never been this full since Ella had arrived.
Every examination bed was occupied. Troopers sat shoulder to shoulder along the walls waiting their turn, helmets piled beside their boots while bacta patches, fresh bandages and discarded armour plates littered every available surface. The familiar scent of antiseptic struggled against smoke, scorched plastoid and the lingering smell of the battlefield.
Medical droids moved constantly between patients, their mechanical voices blending into the chorus of groans, quiet conversations and monitor alarms.
Ella barely noticed any of it. She had been working for nearly four hours now without stopping.
"Hold still," she murmured as she wrapped a fresh bandage around a clone's shoulder. "If you move now I'll have to start again."
The trooper gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Doc."
"You will be."
She secured the final fastening before patting his good shoulder. "There."
He stood. "Thanks."
She smiled faintly. "Next."
Another trooper immediately took his place.
Across the room, Jayr was directing two medical droids while simultaneously stitching a deep cut across another clone's arm. "Droid Three, bacta spray."
He glanced across the room at Ella. "You need some water."
She didn't even look up. "I'm fine. I’ll get some later"
He gave her a pointed look, knowing damn well she wouldn't. Jayr sighed. "You should take it easy. Things are starting to wrap up around here."
Ella finished checking another scanner. "I'll rest later."
Jayr gave her a knowing look. "No, you won't"
She finally glanced at him, a sheepish smile gracing her lips. "Probably not."
A tiny smile crossed his face. "I knew it."
For a brief moment, the frantic pace eased, and Jayr finished with his patient before walking over beside Ella. His voice dropped. "How are you really?"
Ella kept cleaning dried blood from one of her scanners. "I'm working."
"I asked how you are."
She scrubbed harder than necessary. "I lost him."
Jayr's expression softened. "I know."
"He was so young."
"They all are."
She shook her head. "No. He'd only just got here."
"He was asking me yesterday whether everyone was nervous on their first deployment." Her voice caught. "I told him yes."
Jayr rested one hand against the edge of the workbench. "You stayed with him."
"I couldn't leave him."
"I know."
"He was terrified."
She finally stopped cleaning the scanner. "He kept apologising."
Jayr closed his eyes briefly. "They always apologise. As though they did something wrong."
Ella stared at the floor. "I couldn't save him."
"No," Jayr answered gently. "But he wasn't alone."
Before either of them could speak again, the medbay doors slid open with unusual force. Conversation throughout the room stopped as Commander Wolffe strode inside.
His armour still bore fresh scorch marks from the battle. Dust clung to his greaves and one shoulder plate had been cracked almost clean through, but he seemed completely unaware of it.
His eyes immediately found Ella. "Doctor."
The room grew noticeably quieter. Ella looked up briefly before returning to the datapad she was reviewing. "I'm busy."
"I need to speak with you."
"So do half the battalion."
She gestured vaguely toward the occupied beds. "You'll have to wait."
Several injured clones suddenly became very interested in the ceilings above them.
Wolffe walked closer. "This cannot wait."
Ella didn't even turn around. "It can. I'm treating patients."
"You are also my lead medic."
"And right now my patients come first."
Jayr quietly looked between them. This was already going badly.
"Doctor Starling."
Her shoulders stiffened. "No. I’m busy"
The simple answer echoed through the medbay and several troopers exchanged worried glances.
Nobody told Commander Wolffe no, not like that. Wolffe took another measured step. "I am giving you an order."
"And I'm giving a soldier stitches." She carefully tied off the final knot before helping the clone sit upright. "There."
He looked between his commander and his doctor. "Should I?"
Ella smiled politely. "Off you go."
The trooper left at remarkable speed.
Wolffe folded his arms. "My office. Now."
Ella picked up another medical scanner. "I’m busy."
His jaw tightened. "I said now."
She finally faced him. Her eyes were tired, red-rimmed, and there were shadows beneath them that hadn't been there yesterday. "I have thirty-two wounded troopers depending on me." She gestured around the room. "They cannot wait because you want a conversation."
"I don't want a conversation." His voice remained calm, though only just. "I require an explanation."
"You'll get one." She spoke. "When my patients have been treated."
Wolffe doesn't give in. "I gave you a direct order."
"And I heard it."
She turned back toward another patient. "Lie back for me."
The clone obeyed instantly, mostly because he wanted absolutely no part of this.
Wolffe's patience finally snapped. "Enough." His voice carried across the entire medbay. Even the medical droids stopped what they were doing, and the monitors seemed remarkably quieter.
Ella slowly straightened. "So that's it?" She asked quietly. "You shout at me in front of wounded men?"
"I am correcting my officer." He stepped closer.
Ella's expression hardened. "I did what I had to do.”
"You disobeyed a direct order."
Ella scoffed as she continued treating the trooper in front of her. "Yes."
"You abandoned injuries who would have gotten better faster with your help. Now it’ll take weeks for some of these boys to be back to normal."
"I abandoned no one."
"You remained with a dying trooper while others required immediate treatment."
"I remained with a man who needed comfort in his last moments."
"He was beyond saving."
"He was still alive."
Wolffe shouted, getting even more irritated. "He was beyond medical intervention."
"He was still alive."
Their voices had begun rising without either of them noticing. Wolffe took another breath. "When you became lead medic, you accepted responsibility for every man in this battalion."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
Something flickered behind Ella's eyes. "I do."
"No. You allowed grief to dictate your decisions."
"I allowed compassion to."
"A medic cannot save everyone."
Ella sprang her hands in the air, exasperated. "I know that!" The words burst out of her. "I know that better than anyone." She took a breath as she looked up to him. "You think I don't? I watched him die. I held his hand because nobody else could."
The entire medbay remained completely silent. "He wasn't asking for medicine anymore. He was just asking not to be alone."
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke, but when Wolffe finally answered, his voice was quieter. "You still had other patients."
"I know that."
"And some of them might have died waiting."
"I know."
"That is why commanders make impossible decisions."
His expression hardened again. "You cannot let your emotions override your judgement. Or all these men will end up dead."
The sentence landed like a physical blow.
Ella stared at him, her own eyes furrowed as she looked into his mismatched ones. "What?"
"You heard me."
She shook her head slowly. "You think this was emotion?"
Wolffe nodded. "It affected your judgement."
"It was the right thing to do."
"It compromised your priorities."
Something inside her finally broke. "You think I don't understand priorities?" She laughed once, a hollow sound. "I've spent every single day on this ship putting your men back together. I've stayed awake until I couldn't see straight. I've skipped meals. I've skipped sleep. I've done everything I possibly can for this battalion."
Her voice trembled. "And because I refused to let one scared young man die by himself," She looked utterly devastated. "You think I failed them?"
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Wolffe answered too quickly. "You failed to follow orders."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Ella simply stared. The hurt on her face was immediate. There wasn't an ounce of anger or fury on her freckled face, just dejection and sorrow. As though something precious had cracked.
Jayr had heard enough. He crossed the room in three quick strides and stepped directly between them. "That's enough."
Neither of them moved.
Jayr looked squarely at Wolffe. "Commander. Move aside."
"No."
The word surprised everyone.
"You are standing in the middle of my medbay." Jayr's voice remained calm. "My staff have been operating for hours, and they are exhausted. They are grieving, and they are still treating your men." He lowered his voice. "If you have disciplinary matters to discuss, do it after they're no longer covered in blood and running on fumes."
Wolffe's eye never left Ella. "This concerns the battalion."
"It concerns my medic," Jayr answered firmly. "And right now she isn't capable of having this discussion."
"I am perfectly capable," Ella whispered, not even believing her own words.
Jayr didn't even look back. "No. You're not Ella. You've been holding yourself together since we landed."
Only then did Ella realise her hands were shaking. She hadn't even noticed.
Jayr looked back at Wolffe. "You've said your piece. Now let her do her job."
For several long seconds nobody moved, but after what felt like an eternity, Wolffe stepped backwards. Only one pace. His gaze remained fixed on Ella.
"This discussion is not over." His voice was controlled again.
"When your duties here are complete," He paused. "Report to my office."
Then he turned sharply and walked from the medbay. The doors slid shut behind him.
Nobody spoke. Nobody dared to move.
Then, quietly, one of the injured clones nearest Ella cleared his throat. "Doc?"
She blinked, guilt flooding her entire body. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
The clone looked horrified. "Don't apologise."
Another spoke from across the room. "We know you stayed with him."
A third nodded. "He wasn't alone because of you."
Jayr rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "No more today."
She shook her head. "I still have patients."
"We'll manage together."
Around the room, the injured Wolfpack troopers exchanged uncertain looks. Then, almost as one, they began helping in the only ways they could. One passed fresh bandages to a medical droid. Another organised discarded armour out of the walkways. Someone quietly fetched Ella a mug of water and left it beside her without saying a word.
Not one of them mentioned the argument again. They simply closed ranks around their doctor. The same way she had always done for them.
Outside the medbay, Commander Wolffe stopped in the empty corridor. He closed his eyes. The replay of the conversation refused to leave him.
You think I failed them?
He hadn't meant to wound her. He had meant to make her understand. Instead, he'd watched the light leave her eyes.
For the first time since she'd come aboard, he wasn't sure whether she'd ever look at him the same way again. And somehow, that troubled him far more than her disobedience ever had.
Summary: Rex returns home to your daughter and you.
Warnings: None, just fluff
WC: 989
It was early morning when Rex arrived home.
Sunshine beamed into the bedroom through the gaps in the blinds, loud songs were being sung by nearby birds. You were still half asleep when Rex pressed a kiss to the top of your head before snuggling in beside you.
He placed his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to his chest whilst pressing another kiss to your head.
You let out a sleepy mumble as you turn ever so slightly to meet his gaze. “You’re back.”
He presses a soft kiss to your lips this time, chuckling softly. “Mhm,” He hums against you. “Missed my girls. Thought I’d come back a bit early.”
You smile and lean into him even more as he begins to pepper kisses all over your shoulders and collarbones. “Yeah?”
He hums against your sternum, continuing to cover you in kisses.
Rex was always extra needy when he returned from a mission. Even just a few days away left him in agony. He hated being apart from you and your daughter, he worried about the two of you every second he was gone. The work he was doing was important, of course, he knew that. His brothers needed him, needed his help, his guidance. But selfishly, sometimes he wished that he could throw that part of him away and just lock himself up with his precious girls.
“Always miss you,” He mumbles, his hand slithering under your, Rex’s actually, t-shirt his warm, calloused hands splaying over your stomach. “Never going away again.”
You giggle and turn fully now, facing him, your fingers reaching up to cradle through his hair, which had grown out a little from his usual buzzed look. “Sounds good to me,” You murmur, nuzzling into his neck.
Rex shuffled the duvet up further over the two of you as he held you close. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We should have a couple more hours before the little monster wakes up.”
He holds you tight in his arms, and you are content and happy as can be as you begin to lull back to sleep. You always slept best this way. You were the safest you could possibly be, held close and tight by the man you love, knowing he's safe and not away somewhere getting shot at.
But mornings in your home never stayed that peaceful for long, not when you have a two-year-old anyway.
Your bedroom door creaked open, yours and Rex’s eyes opening along with it.
“Mama, when will-” Your daughter peeked her head into the room, her tooka pyjamas riding up one of her legs. She was also carrying her little bantha plush toy, one that Rex had got her when he returned from a mission a few months back.
She cut herself off from whatever she was about to ask, no doubt about when her papa would be home, before she spotted Rex in his spot in bed, her face beaming with light and a large, toothy smile. “Papa!”
Before Rex could even untangle himself from you, she was already climbing up on the bed and jumping on top of him. Rex chuckled at her, taking her into his arms, her own arms wrapping around his neck.
She gave him a big smile. “I missed you sooo much!” She declared, pulling back so she could sit in his lap.
Rex grinned at her, the two staring at each other with identical sets of eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”
She giggles. “I missed you more!”
Rex raised an eyebrow, a smirk hanging from his lips. “Not possible.”
Your daughter shakes her head and continues giggling before stretching her arms out in front of him. “Uh-huh, I missed you this much!”
“Really now?” Rex laughed, grabbing her to pull her closer. “Okay, well. I missed you this much!” Rex says as he begins to tickle her sides, peppering kisses over her face as she squirms closer to him by instinct.
She shrieks with laughter as Rex kisses every single part of her face, letting out overdramatic noises.
She begs you for mercy, which is funny since she hadn't even registered you were there until now. “Mama, help! Help!”
Her giggles fill the room, a sound you or Rex could never tire of. You laugh as your husband continues to tickle her, seeking every missed laugh and giggle.
“Papa!” She continues to giggle. “But I made your favourite biscuits for you!”
Rex stopped at that, his expression full of feigned surprise. Your daughter falls into the small gap between you and Rex, a few giggles still escaping from her lips. “You made me my favourite biscuits?”
She laughs again, reaching up to hold his face. “And I decorated them blue! Your favourite colour!”
Rex laughs, expression full of happiness and love. “You did?”
“Uh huh!” Your daughter says proudly. “Can we eat them now?”
You and Rex catch each other's eyes, both of you knowing that this was coming. You reach over to kiss your daughter's forehead, your smile wide. “It's a bit early for biscuits, baby.”
She immediately pouts and turns to her dad, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. She knows that she has him wrapped around her finger. “Papa, pleaseeee.” She prolongs the please, her eyes wide and full of hope.
Rex looks at you and chuckles as you roll your eyes. “I suppose. Just this once, though.”
Your daughter lets out a loud, “yay!” before she scrambles off the bed, grabbing Rex’s hand to pull him in the direction of the kitchen. You can't help but giggle at their antics, the two of them always getting up to no good when they're together.
You can hear their laughter echoing through the kitchen, no doubt stuffing their faces with biscuits. You let them have their moment, you know she misses her dad so much whenever he's gone, and you know he misses his baby girl just as much.
Summary: The aftermath of a successful mission thanks to Ella’s suggestions.
Warnings: none really, mentions of injury etc
WC: 3120
AN: Kind of a filler chapter. Things will pick up from here lol
The mission went well. More than well, actually.
Thanks to Ella’s suggestions during the briefing, there were no casualties, minimal life-threatning injuries, and those who were injured, were seen and taken away quickly. These wins were reverberating through the entire battalion. Everyone felt lighter, which was a strange feeling for most of them. The boys were so used to feeling dejected and sorry after missions, the burden of many brothers lost weighing heavy inside them.
The command room aboard the cruiser was louder than usual. It was filled with happy troopers chatting away about how well the mission went. The holotable cast its cool blue glow across the faces gathered around it, the terrain projection from the mission slowly rotating in the air. Outside the viewport behind them, the stars stretched endlessly, the ship already back in hyperspace.
The Wolfpack stood scattered around the table, helmets resting nearby, armour scuffed from blaster fire and debris. They looked tired as usual, but the tension that usually lingered after a battle wasn’t there.
Commander Wolffe stood at the head of the table, one hand resting against the console as the mission replay scrolled through key points in the operation. “Entry timing adjustment worked as predicted,” he said, voice even. “Enemy resistance was concentrated along the main corridor.”
The projection zoomed slightly, highlighting the exact point where the Wolfpack had diverted through the alternate route Ella had suggested during the previous briefing.
Sinker leaned forward slightly, studying the display. “If we’d pushed straight through the north corridor like the original plan,” he said, tapping the edge of the table, “we would’ve been stacked up right here.”
Boost gave a quiet huff beside him. “Yeah, and someone would’ve taken a hit in that choke point.”
He glanced briefly toward Ella. She stood near the side of the table with her datapad in hand, posture relaxed but attentive. She hadn’t expected to be included directly in the debrief, but she’d stayed when Wolffe hadn’t dismissed her.
The replay shifted again. The hologram showed the moment where the Wolfpack’s formation widened through the southern lane, keeping the evacuation route open exactly as she’d proposed.
Comet tilted his head slightly as he watched. “That lane stayed clear the whole time,” he said.
“Which meant Doc could move through without tripping over us,” Boost added.
Ella looked up at that, faint surprise crossing her face.
Sinker nodded once. “And if someone had gone down, we wouldn’t have had to drag them through crossfire.”
Wolffe didn’t interrupt the exchange. His attention remained on the hologram, but his good eye flicked briefly toward Ella before returning to the projection.
The room settled into a thoughtful silence for a moment. Ella shifted her weight slightly. “I ran the casualty projections again this morning,” she said quietly.
That got everyone’s attention.
“Based on the original route,” she continued, pulling up a small display on her datapad. “Probability of at least six casualties during extraction was high. Possibly more if resistance increased.”
Boost let out a low whistle. “Glad we didn’t test that theory.”
Sinker gave a small nod in agreement. “Those streets were tighter than they looked.”
Ella glanced down at the projection again. “Urban combat tends to compress movement patterns,” she said. “People bunch up under pressure.”
Comet huffed faintly. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Boost leaned back slightly against the table. “Another way is we’re not built for squeezing through half-collapsed alleyways.”
A quiet ripple of amusement moved through the room. Ella allowed a small smile before returning to the datapad.
Wolffe finally deactivated the mission replay. The hologram dissolved into blue light. “No casualties,” he said simply.
The statement carried weight, and for a moment, no one spoke.
Sinker straightened slightly. “Credit where it’s due, Commander,” he said, glancing briefly toward Ella. “Doc’s adjustment made the difference.”
Boost nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. That lane saved us from a mess.”
Ella blinked at that, clearly not expecting the direct acknowledgment. “You guys executed the plan,” she replied.
“Still helped,” Boost said with a shrug.
Comet gave a quiet hum of agreement. “Planning matters.”
Across the table, Wolffe studied Ella again. Not critically this time. He was evaluating something else entirely.
She hadn’t spoken during the mission except when necessary. She’d stayed clear of the command channel unless someone needed treatment. But her suggestion during the briefing had changed the flow of the entire operation.
And the result was standing in front of him now. Every member of the Wolfpack upright. No stretchers, no emergency calls to the medbay.
Ella shifted her datapad slightly. “I’ll update the evacuation protocols based on the route data,” she said. “If similar terrain appears again, we can pre-plan alternate corridors.”
Boost gave an approving nod. “Sounds good to me.”
Sinker crossed his arms loosely. “Wouldn’t mind fewer surprise injuries.”
Wolffe finally spoke again. “Submit the revisions to tactical planning.”
Ella looked up. “Yes, Commander.”
There was a brief pause before Boost spoke again, his tone lighter now. “Guess we’ll keep you around, Doc.”
Ella shook her head faintly, though the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
Across the room, Wolffe picked up his helmet from the table. His gaze settled briefly on Ella once more. “Dismissed,” he said.
The Wolfpack began to disperse, conversations starting quietly as they headed toward the corridor. Boost clapped Sinker lightly on the shoulder as they walked out. “Next time Doc says change the route,” he said, “I’m voting we listen faster.”
Sinker gave a short nod. “Agreed.”
Ella gathered her datapad, preparing to leave as well. As she turned toward the door, she noticed Wolffe still standing near the holotable.
For a brief moment, their eyes met. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. Then he placed his helmet under his arm and left the room without another word.
Most of the Wolfpack had finally turned in after the post-mission debrief. The ship still hummed with its usual mechanical rhythm, but the tension that normally followed a battle was gone tonight.
Ella paused outside her quarters for a moment before stepping inside. After a week aboard the cruiser it had begun to feel like her space. Her datapad sat on the narrow set of drawers, a half-finished report still open on the screen.
She closed it with a soft tap. For the first time since deploying, there was nothing immediately demanding her attention. Her eyes drifted to the comm unit on the desk. Ella hesitated.
She hadn’t contacted home since leaving Coruscant. There had always been something else to do, patients to check, supplies to catalogue, reports to file. But tonight felt different. The successful mission still lingered in her thoughts.
After a moment, she reached forward and activated the comm.
The signal crackled briefly before the holoprojector flickered to life. A familiar living room materialized in blue light. A second later, two figures appeared.
“Ella?”
Her sister leaned closer to the projector, eyes widening. “Ella!”
The shout was loud enough that another figure hurried into view. Her father stopped short when he saw the hologram. A grin spread across his face. “There she is.”
Ella felt a warmth spread through her chest. “Hi.”
Her sister folded her arms dramatically. “You disappeared.”
“I did not disappear,” Ella protested. “I’ve been deployed.”
“Same thing.”
Her father chuckled softly and moved closer to the projection. “You look well.”
“I am well.”
He studied her carefully, the way he always had when she came home from long hospital shifts during her academy training. “You eating enough?”
Ella laughed quietly. “Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“Mostly.”
Sienna leaned toward the projection again. “Where are you stationed anyway? You never said.”
“A Republic cruiser,” Ella answered. “With a clone battalion.”
Her sister’s eyebrows shot up. “The clones?”
“Yes.”
“Is that safe?”
Ella furrowed her brows at her sister. “Sienna, don't be rude. Of course it’s safe.”
Her father crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I’ve heard things about these deployments.”
Ella raised an eyebrow. “Good things or bad things?”
He shrugged. “Mixed.”
His gaze sharpened slightly. “What about the command structure?”
“The command structure?”
“Yes.”
“Your commanding officer.”
Ella knew exactly what he meant. There were plenty of stories circulating on Coruscant about the new Republic military. Some flattering. Some not.
“The commander of the battalion,” her father continued. “You trust him?”
Without hesitation, Ella nodded. “Yes.”
The answer surprised even her a little. Her father tilted his head. “Confident answer.”
“He’s a good commander.”
“What’s his name?”
“Commander Wolffe.”
She didn’t add more, but her father seemed to notice the certainty in her tone. “You’ve worked closely with him?”
“I work with the entire battalion.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Ella sighed softly. “Yes. I work with him.”
“The rest of the men listen to you?” He asked.
Ella laughed. “Most of the time.”
She remembered the planning meeting.The hesitation when she’d spoken. Then, the moment the troopers realized her suggestions might actually keep them alive. “More now than they did when I first arrived.”
Her sister leaned forward again. “So you actually like it there?”
Ella thought about the Wolfpack. About the medbay after battle. About the quiet nod Commander Wolffe had given her after the meeting.
She smiled slightly. “I do.”
Her father studied her again, quieter now. “Well,” he said eventually, “that matters.”
“I know the Republic likes to present things a certain way,” he continued carefully. “But the people in charge don’t always live with the consequences of their decisions.”
Ella understood what he meant. “But the commander does,” she said. “He fights with them.”
Her father considered that. “And you trust that?”
“I do.”
Silence settled for a moment. Then her sister grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Well, if you’re defending him that strongly, you must like him.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
Ella shook her head, trying not to smile. “I should go,” she said after a moment. “I have another early briefing.”
Her father nodded. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“And Ella?”
“Yes?”
“If the people you’re working with are good men,” he said gently, “then you’re exactly where you should be.”
Ella nodded thoughtfully. “I love you both.”
The hologram flickered as the call ended. The room returned to quiet. Ella sat for a moment, staring at the dark comm unit.
Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was exactly where she was supposed to be. And strangely enough, that place was aboard a Republic cruiser, working beside these men.
The medbay was quiet again.
Ella stood at one of the workstations reviewing a datapad, dim light reflecting faintly off the metal surfaces around her. The injury reports from the mission had already been finalized.
A soft mechanical sound from the doorway made her glance up. She didn’t look surprised.
“Commander.”
Commander Wolffe stepped inside the medbay. His presence always seemed to shift the atmosphere of a room slightly, not because he demanded attention, but because everyone instinctively gave it.
Tonight, however, there were no troopers around to notice.
“You’re still working,” he observed.
Ella lowered the datapad. “You’re still awake.”
A brief pause. “That wasn’t my question.”
“It wasn’t mine either.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Wolffe stepped further into the medbay. “I need you to check my eye again.”
Ella tilted her head slightly. “Any particular reason?”
“A headache.”
She studied him for a moment. He stood straight, posture unchanged, voice even. But something about the way he held his shoulders told her the discomfort was real.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the examination bed.
Wolffe obeyed without comment.
Ella moved closer, retrieving a small scanner from the nearby tray. When she stepped in front of him, the faint scent of antiseptic and machine oil lingered in the air between them. “Vision distortion?” she asked.
“Earlier.”
“Frequency?”
“Brief.”
She activated the scanner. The small device hummed softly as she ran it along the edge of the cybernetic implant surrounding his eye.
The room grew very quiet. Wolffe watched her while she worked. Not in the casual, distracted way he usually observed people. Carefully.
Ella noticed the gaze eventually. “You’re staring,” she said without looking up.
“I’m observing.”
“Same thing.”
“Not necessarily.”
She adjusted a small interface panel on the side of his implant. “You’re lucky you came in,” she said. “The calibration’s slightly off.”
Wolffe frowned. “From damage?”
“From strain.” Her fingers moved with careful precision along the small control nodes. “You’ve been pushing it.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have a cybernetic interface wired into your optic nerve,” she replied calmly. “You’re not invincible.”
Wolffe didn’t respond. The faint blue glow of the scanner illuminated her face as she worked. “You’re good at this,” he said suddenly.
Ella paused briefly. “Medical training tends to help.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She adjusted another setting, and Wolffe leaned back slightly in the chair. “You notice things.”
Ella finished the adjustment and lowered the scanner. “That’s part of my job.”
“Not the way you do.”
She looked at him now. “Is this where you accuse me of spying on my commanding officer?”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
Ella folded her arms. “Commander, if I were spying on you, I would be doing a very poor job.”
Wolffe considered that. Then, unexpectedly, he smirked. It was subtle and brief, but unmistakable.
Ella blinked. “Well,” she said. “That’s unsettling.”
“What is?”
“You smiling.”
“I wasn’t smiling.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
Ella shook her head slightly. “I should report this to the medical board.”
“For what?”
“Cybernetic malfunction.”
That time Wolffe did laugh, quiet, low, and surprised enough that even he seemed momentarily aware of it.
The sound caught Ella off guard. “I didn’t realise commanders were capable of humour,” she said.
“We try not to make it a habit.”
She leaned against the nearby console. “You’re cleared, by the way. The implant should stabilise now.”
“Good.”
Wolffe didn’t stand immediately. Instead, he studied her again. “Where did you train?”
Ella blinked. “University of Coruscant.”
“I know that.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because you know military protocol.”
She shrugged slightly. “You pick things up working around soldiers.”
“You knew how to read projections before you even arrived.”
Ella hesitated briefly then sighed. “My father was a captain.”
“That explains it.”
She leaned back against the console. “He retired when I was younger.”
“But you grew up around military strategy.”
“More than I probably should have.”
Wolffe nodded slightly. “That explains your planning recommendations.”
Ella raised an eyebrow. “You mean the ones that prevented your battalion from getting themselves killed?”
“We weren’t going to get killed.”
“You were going to get injured.”
“That’s speculation.”
Ella scoffed. “Hardly.”
Wolffe’s smirk returned. “You’re very confident.”
“I’m usually correct.”
“Dangerous trait.”
“Says the man who charges droid positions.”
“They usually retreat.”
“That’s not comforting.”
For a moment, the conversation settled into a quiet rhythm neither of them seemed eager to end.
“What about your mother?”
Ella drew in a breath. “She was a teacher. She died when I was fourteen.” Ella stopped talking for a brief second, unsure as to why she was telling him this. That’s why my father retired, to look after my sister and me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ella waved her hand. “Don't be, it was a long time ago.” She said quietly.
Wolffe shifted, realising she didn't want to talk about it. “So you grew up around war councils.”
“Dinner conversations,” Ella corrected.
“That must have been interesting.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“What was the worst argument?”
Ella thought for a moment. “Supply logistics.”
Wolffe blinked. “Supply logistics.” He repeated, an eyebrow raised.
“Captains care deeply about supply logistics.”
“That’s disappointing.”
Ella laughed softly. “There were also arguments about tactical doctrine.”
“That’s better.”
“Once my little sister threw a nuna leg at me.”
“Now that sounds more realistic.”
The laugh that escaped her that time was genuine. Wolffe watched her carefully again. It struck him suddenly that he had never heard her laugh before. Not really. And he realized, distantly, that he had been sitting in the medbay for far longer than necessary.
The quiet moment stretched. Neither seemed inclined to move.
A voice echoed down the corridor. “Commander?”
Both of them turned toward the doorway. A second later, Boost appeared. He stopped mid-step.
His eyes moved from Wolffe sitting in the examination chair to Ella leaning casually against the console, to the noticeable lack of medical emergency.
“Well,” Boost said slowly.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Ella straightened immediately. “No.”
Wolffe stood. “Report.”
Boost’s grin widened slightly. “Yes, sir.” He stepped fully into the medbay. “Sinker wanted confirmation about tomorrow’s patrol routes.”
Boost glanced at Ella again. Then at Wolffe. Then back again. The grin became very difficult to miss.
Ella cleared her throat. “I should finish the medical logs.”
“Yes,” Wolffe said.
Boost watched her move back toward the workstation.
The moment she stepped into the corridor a minute later, he leaned casually against the wall. “Sir.”
“What?”
Boost tilted his head slightly. “That looked friendly.”
Wolffe’s expression hardened immediately. “There is nothing going on.”
“I didn’t say there was.”
“You implied it.”
Boost shrugged. “I observed two people laughing.”
“That is not unusual.”
“It is when one of them is you.”
Wolffe stared at him, his regular scowl covering his face.
Boost raised his hands. “Just saying.”
Silence lingered for a moment. Then Wolffe moved toward the door. “Return to your post.”
“Yes, sir.”
Boost paused before leaving. “For what it’s worth,” Wolffe stopped looking at his younger brother. “The men like her.”
“I know.”
“She saved a lot of injuries on that last mission.”
“I’m aware.”
Boost nodded. Then he added casually, “And made you laugh.”
Wolffe did not respond. Boost grinned again and disappeared down the corridor and the medbay was quiet once more.
Wolffe stood there for a moment. Then he exhaled slowly. The conversation replayed in his mind. Her laugh. The easy conversation. The strange sense of calm that had settled in the room.
He frowned slightly because Boost’s words lingered longer than they should have. There is nothing going on. That was the correct answer.
It had to be. She was a medic. He was her commander. Simple. Clear.
And yet, for a brief moment earlier in the medbay, when she had leaned against the console and laughed, it had not felt simple. Wolffe pushed the thought aside. There was a war to fight.
Still, as he stepped back into the corridor, one quiet realization lingered longer than the rest. He trusted her.
And that, he knew, was far more dangerous than Boost’s teasing.
Heyy, can you maybe write a dad Cody fic? Maybe during the war and he finds out his girlfriend is pregnant in the middle of the war? How he deals with it and stuff. He tells his baby brother Rex first who is supportive and then with Rexs support he tells the rest of his command batch brothers like Wolfffe, Fox etc and they dont take it so well. They argue with him for being so reckless etc but eventually support hiim cos he is their brother after all. maybe some scenes of how he copes when hes away from you and deployed and when hes back your bump just gets bigger everytime. maybe finding out the gender, buying baby clothes or maybe making the babys room and stuff?
thank you i love ur writing btw
Honeybee
Commander Cody x Reader
Summary: You and Cody are expecting your first baby in the middle of war.
Warnings: Pregnancy, battle etc
WC: 2346
By the time Cody returned to Coruscant, exhaustion had settled into his bones in a way bacta couldn't fix. Three weeks of fighting Seppies had left him with bruises beneath his armour and a weariness that felt deeper than physical. Still, the moment he stepped into the apartment he shared with you, all thoughts of battle faded.
Home. Maker, he'd missed home, and he'd missed you.
He barely had enough time to put his bag down before you wrapped your arms around him. Cody immediately relaxed, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply.
"There you are," he murmured softly.
"I missed you."
His smile widened. "I missed you too."
Normally, the two of you would spend the first hour simply existing together. Talking, eating, laughing, making up for lost time. But tonight felt different. You were nervous. Cody noticed immediately. Years of command had taught him to read expressions and body language faster than words.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked quietly.
You smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Can you sit down with me?"
That was enough to make his heart sink. He'd seen that expression before. Not on you, though, on troopers who had terrible news to deliver. Immediately, worst-case scenarios began running through his head. Were you hurt? Were you sick? Had something happened while he'd been gone?
The two of you settled on the couch, and Cody noticed how tightly you were holding his hand. "Talk to me," he said gently.
You took a shaky breath. "Promise you won't panic."
"I'm already panicking."
That earned a small laugh. Good. At least you were laughing.
"Cody, I'm pregnant."
He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"
Tears immediately sprang to your eyes. "I'm sorry."
His brows furrowed. "Sorry?"
"I know the timing is awful and you're deployed all the time, and we're in the middle of a war, and maybe this changes everything and—"
"Hey."
His voice softened instantly. "Hey, look at me."
You did. And the fear in your eyes nearly broke his heart.
"You're pregnant?"
You nodded nervously. "Yeah."
And suddenly Commander Cody, leader of the 212th, veteran of countless campaigns, and respected by thousands of men, looked completely overwhelmed. Not upset or angry, but truly overwhelmed. Because maker, he was going to be a father.
His eyes widened. "Really?"
You laughed weakly through your tears. "Really."
The smile that spread across his face was unlike anything you'd ever seen. Pure wonder, pure joy. "You mean," he whispered. "We're having a baby?"
Now you were crying for an entirely different reason. "Yes."
His own eyes immediately became suspiciously bright, and then he laughed. Not because it was funny, but because he simply didn't know what else to do with all the happiness threatening to burst out of him.
He grabbed your face gently. "A baby."
You laughed tearfully. "A baby."
"Our baby."
The smile on his face became softer. "Our little one."
"Cody?"
"Hm?"
"You aren't upset?"
His expression changed immediately. "No." He said it so firmly that your breath caught. "Never."
"But—"
"No."
He cupped your face carefully. "Am I terrified? Absolutely."
That made you laugh. "But upset?" His forehead rested against yours. "Never."
His smile wobbled. "I love you, and I already love this little one."
Your expression softened. "Cody."
"We'll figure it out." His voice became quiet. "We always do."
You wrapped your arms around him, and for a long time, neither of you spoke. You simply held each other while reality slowly settled around you.
A baby. Not ideal, not planned, but loved. Already so loved.
Rex nearly dropped his caf. "Cody." He groaned, his face in his hands. "You got your girl pregnant."
Cody rubbed the back of his neck. "Apparently."
"Apparently?"
Rex looked personally betrayed. "Apparently?" He groaned again. "How far along is she?" Rex demanded.
"Twelve weeks."
"Twelve weeks?!"
Cody winced. "We wanted to make sure everything was alright first."
Rex sat heavily in his chair. His brother, his big brother, was having a child.
His expression slowly shifted from disbelief to absolute wonder. "A baby?"
Cody smiled. "Yeah."
Rex blinked. Then suddenly stood and threw his arms around him.
The commander nearly stumbled. "You idiot."
Rex's voice cracked slightly. "A baby."
Cody laughed. "Easy."
"I'm gonna be an uncle."
"You are."
"I'm too young to be an uncle."
"No, you're not."
"I'm absolutely spoiling this kid." Rex pointed dramatically. "And don't even think about trying to stop me."
Rex’s expression softened. "You happy?"
Cody smiled. "So happy."
"And she's happy?"
"Very."
Rex nodded. Then his face became serious. "You need anything, you ask."
"Rex."
"I mean it."
The captain's voice was unwavering. "Credits, food, babysitting. Doesn't matter." His smile returned. "That kid's family." His eyes softened. "And so are you."
Emotion unexpectedly caught in Cody's throat. "Thanks, vod."
Wolffe's eye nearly bulged out of his head, Fox simply stared, and Bly looked like someone had shot him.
"You did what?" Bly asked weakly.
"Were you dropped on your head as a cadet?" Wolffe exploded.
Cody blinked. "What?"
Fox pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, this is unbelievable."
"Cody!" Bly barked.
"What?"
"You know there are ways to prevent this!"
"I know!"
"Clearly not!"
Wolffe threw his hands in the air. "In the middle of a war?"
Cody grimaced. "It wasn't exactly scheduled!"
Fox looked offended on behalf of the Republic itself. "Did you use protection?"
Cody glared at his brother. "I’m not answering that."
"That's a no, then."
"Maker above."
Wolffe was pacing now. "You absolute di'kut."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes!"
Bly looked scandalised. "What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't!"
"Clearly!"
Fox groaned. "This is exactly what happens when people are happy."
"What are you even talking about?"
"They make reckless decisions."
"Fox-"
"I'm right."
Cody pointed at him. "No, you're insane."
"No, you're insane."
Wolffe rounded on him. "What if something happens to you?"
The room fell silent, and suddenly Cody understood. Underneath the yelling, underneath the frustration. They were scared. Not angry, scared. Scared for him, scared for you, scared for the child. Scared because war had taken too much already.
Fox's voice became quieter. "Are they healthy?"
Cody's expression softened. "Yeah."
"And she's happy?"
"Very."
Bly exhaled. "The baby's alright?"
"So far."
Then Wolffe sighed. A tired sigh. "I still think you're an idiot."
"Fair."
Fox crossed his arms. "Reckless."
"Probably."
Bly shook his head. "You gave us a heart attack."
"Sorry."
Then suddenly Bly stepped forward and hugged him. Hard. "Stupid vod."
Fox looked offended. "We're hugging?"
"We are."
"I hate hugging."
Wolffe snorted. "Liar."
Eventually, all four of them ended up tangled together in an awkward mess of armour and complaints. Fox muttered the entire time. "This is ridiculous."
"Agreed."
"I hate all of you."
"No, you don't."
"No." Fox’s voice softened. "No, I don't."
Because they were brothers, and brothers worried. Even when it came out sounding like anger.
The first deployment afterward nearly broke him. Not because he wanted to abandon his duty, he never would.
But now, when he kissed you before boarding the cruiser, there was another heartbeat growing safely beneath your own. His family, his child. And leaving felt wrong.
The entire trip to Felucia, he kept touching the pocket in his blacks. Inside rested a small holo-image from your latest appointment. The baby looked tiny.
His son or daughter. His little one.
Rex caught him staring at it one evening after reports. "You miss them."
Cody smiled quietly. "Every second."
The months that followed taught Cody something he had never expected. Battle had always been difficult, and loss had always hurt. But missing you? Missing the little life growing inside you? That was a different kind of ache entirely.
On Zeltron, he found himself staring absentmindedly at the stars after debriefings. On Neimoidia, he caught himself calculating how many weeks along you were instead of the distance to the next objective.
And on one particularly miserable night on Savareen, after spending sixteen straight hours in the rain with half the 212th buried in mud, Commander Cody sat inside his tent and smiled foolishly at a holo of your latest scan.
"You've got it bad."
Cody looked up. Rex stood in the doorway, holding two mugs of caf. The captain sat beside him and handed one over. "Thinking about them again?" Rex asked.
Cody chuckled softly. "Always."
The messages became sacred. No matter how exhausted he was, no matter how late the hour, Cody always sent one. Sometimes they were long, sometimes short. But never missed.
"Sweetheart, it's me." His tired voice crackled through the holoprojector. "We secured the village. Everyone's alright.” He pauses. "I miss you. Tell the little one his dad says hello."
Sometimes he spoke directly to the baby. "Hey, little trooper. Your mother says you kick a lot.” He laughs. “Can't imagine where you got that from." Another laugh. "I'm sorry I can't be there right now. But I'm coming home."
By the sixth month, even Wolffe had become invested, though he'd deny it under torture.
"She's eating enough?"
"Yes."
"Sleeping?"
"Yes."
"Doctor appointments?"
"Yes."
"Cody."
"What?"
"Are you sure?"
"Wolffe."
"What?"
Fox was worse. Not outwardly, but every time Cody returned to Coruscant, somehow supplies appeared. Extra blankets, food, medical vouchers, and absolutely no explanation.
Until one evening, Cody cornered him. "Fox."
"What?"
"Did you buy us a stroller?"
"No."
Cody crossed his arms. "Fox."
Fox sighed, looking sheepish. "Possibly."
Fox glared. "Stop looking at me like that."
"You bought a stroller."
"It was on sale."
"Fox."
Fox pointed. "And if you tell anyone, I'll deny everything."
Near the beginning of the sixth month, Cody finally came home after nearly eight weeks away. The moment the apartment door opened, you nearly tackled him. He laughed breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face against your neck.
He held you for several moments before blinking. "You've got that smile."
"What smile?"
"That smile."
You grinned. "No, I don't."
Cody raised his eyebrows.
"Nope."
His eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
You laughed. "Nothing."
"Sweetheart."
"Sit down."
Immediately suspicious, Cody obeyed, and then you handed him a small gift box.
He frowned. "What is this?"
"Open it."
Slowly, he lifted the lid and froze. Inside rested tiny blue socks. For several seconds, Commander Cody simply stared.
Then his eyes widened. He looked up so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Blue?"
Tears sparkled in your eyes. "Blue."
"A boy?"
You nodded. "A son."
The box hit the floor. Cody burst into tears, actual tears.
Laughing helplessly as he wrapped you in his arms. "A son." His voice cracked. "We're having a son."
You laughed through your own tears. "We are."
A little boy. His little boy. Cody's hand immediately moved to your stomach, and his smile transformed into something so soft and full of wonder that your heart nearly melted. "Hi, son."
A kick. Cody gasped. "No." Another, and suddenly the commander looked utterly delighted. "He knows me."
You burst out laughing. "He kicked."
"He knows me."
"Cody."
"He does."
You laughed harder. "Cody."
"He loves me already."
Baby shopping proved to be unexpectedly emotional. Mostly because Commander Cody experienced a complete crisis.
"Cyare."
"What?"
"He can't wear this."
You blinked. "What?"
"It's too small."
You held up the tiny onesie. "It's newborn size."
"It's tiny."
"Yes, this is how small he’ll be when he's born."
"He'll fit in one arm."
"That's generally how babies work."
"But look at him."
"There isn't a him yet."
"Future him."
Twenty minutes later, he was carefully choosing blankets, stuffed toys, and books, and enough orange clothing to outfit an entire nursery.
"You know other colours exist."
"Nope."
"Cody."
You laughed. "Our son is going to look like a member of the 212th."
"As he should."
The nursery slowly became his favorite room. It started with paint, then furniture, then arguments.
"Cody, that's crooked."
"It's not crooked."
"It is."
"It isn't."
"It absolutely is."
He closed his eyes "It's not."
"It's crooked."
Eventually, Rex showed up and immediately took your side. "It's crooked."
Traitor.
Bly arrived carrying toys, and Wolffe arrived carrying baby proof equipment, and Fox arrived pretending he absolutely wasn't participating.
"I was in the area."
By evening, the apartment looked like a military operation. Wolffe inspected corners, Rex assembled furniture badly, Bly sang ridiculous songs, and Fox silently organized everything because apparently no one else knew how.
And Cody stood in the doorway. Watching, listening, smiling. His brothers, his family, his son, his home.
The war still existed, people were still dying. Tomorrow he might receive new orders, or tomorrow he might leave again.
But tonight, there was laughter, there was paint on his clothes, there were tiny clothes folded neatly in drawers. Tonight, there was hope.
Later, after everyone finally left and the apartment fell quiet, Cody sat down in the rocking chair beside the crib. You curled up against him immediately, and together you simply sat there.
His hand rested over yours on your stomach and suddenly, kick.
His eyes immediately softened. "Strong little guy."
"He gets that from you."
"Nah."
You laughed. "Cody, you kick and punch battle droids."
Cody laughed now. "And his stubbornness?"
"Definitely me."
Outside the window, Coruscant glittered beneath the stars. Inside, the nursery glowed warmly, and Commander Cody, soldier, leader, brother, held the woman he loved and felt his son moving beneath his hand.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't dreaming about victories. He was dreaming about bedtime stories, about tiny hands wrapped around his finger, about first words, about family dinners, about growing old.
Dreams he'd never allowed himself before.
And as another tiny kick greeted his hand, Cody smiled that beautiful, gentle smile reserved only for you. "I can't wait to meet you, little man."
His voice became quiet. "And I promise," Emotion caught in his throat. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how loved you are."
And for just a little while, the Clone Wars felt very far away.
Summary: Ella begins to work with the Wolfpack and they head out on their first mission together.
Warnings: None really, mentions of injury, battle
WC: 3701
The Venator did not announce itself.
It slid through hyperspace with the quiet inevitability of a warship that had done this too many times to warrant ceremony. Ella felt the transition only as a subtle shift beneath her feet, a pressure change she had learned to register. The hum of the engines settled into a steady cadence, the ship resuming its forward momentum towards another contested system whose name she had memorised but not yet learned to care about.
It was the end of her first official day with the 104th. She currently stood alone in the medbay, datapad in hand. She scrolled past the injury and casualty reports from their last mission in neat columns. There were the usual burns and shrapnel injuries, triage classifications, and recommended supply expenditure. The numbers were clean, reassuring.
Ella then reviewed Commander Wolffe’s scans for his checkup later. His injury was complex. There was absolutely no chance of saving his original eye, the saber had scorched right through it. He was seriously lucky that it didn't slice through his brain.
Sighing, she puts the datapad down and looks around the medbay. It was small and compact but functional, though clearly designed for speed rather than comfort. She moved around slowly, deliberately, mapping the space in her mind. This would be her new world during deployments, tight and unforgiving yet somewhat efficient.
Footsteps passed the open doorway. Troopers moved through the corridor in disciplined silence, none stopped, none stared. That, Ella decided, was preferable.
With no tasks at hand, no injuries to look after, she began running a full inventory.
The process was methodical, almost meditative. She counted supplies twice, once against the manifest and once against reality. As she expected, the discrepancies were not minor.
Medicines and shots were outdated by several months, bandage packs below the recommended threshold, and field sutures in limited variety. Ella made notes as she worked, jaw tightening slightly. These were not oversights born of negligence. They were the inevitable result of a unit that did not remain in dock long enough to replenish properly. Still, inevitability did not make it acceptable.
She was midway through recalibrating an old scanner when she became aware she was no longer alone. Jayr stood just inside the doorway, his grey painted helmet tucked under his arm.
Ella raised an eyebrow at him.
“You’ll want to adjust the scanner's resonance field. It drifts under sustained fire.”
She nods at him. “I know.”
“There's a workaround.” He speaks, walking towards her.
He pointed to a panel on the scanner that Ella had already opened. His movements precise and efficient but not invasive. “Route power through the auxiliary line. It’ll hold longer. It’s not perfect, but it works.”
Ella nods and smiles. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Jayr inclined his head slightly, looking at her with a strange fascination. “You ready for the mission?”
Ella sighs, looking at Jayr with a raised brow. “I don't have much choice.”
She had been a part of the battalion for barely a day, and she was already being chucked onto the front lines. A part of her expected this to happen, but the other part of her, the more optimistic, hopeful part of her, had hoped she would be given at least a little training. Or perhaps a briefing or a rundown of what to do. Instead, she was just told to prepare for battle and hope for the best.
Jayr smirked. “You’ll be fine.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thanks. I feel so at ease now.” Ella murmurs sarcastically.
“I was nervous before my first mission, too,” Jayr admits. “I was terrified, actually.”
Ella looks at him now, her expression soft. “Yeah?”
Jayr nods. “But look at me now.” He smiles, eliciting a laugh from Ella. “Just follow my lead and listen to the Commander, and you’ll be fine.”
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the back of the medbay. “He's right.”
Commander Wolffe occupied the last bed, the one furthest away from the entrance. He was sitting upright, his helmet still on, back straight despite the obvious tension in his shoulders.
Ella and Jayr paused, turning to look at him.
“You’re late for my checkup.” He grumbled at Ella.
Jayr chuckled before leaning in to whisper. “Better get to work on Commander Grouch.”
Ella rolls her eyes, walking over to where Wolffe is sitting. “I was reviewing your scans,” Ella replied evenly. “And the medbay inventory.”
The corner of his mouth tightened ever so slightly under his helmet, not in irritation but in assessment. “You won't find the stuff you’re used to.” He speaks.
“I wasn’t expecting to.” Ella raises a brow. “Can you take your helmet off? I need to have a look.”
He grunts in discontent, his hands reaching up to remove his helmet. Ella stares at him for a long moment. This was the first time she had seen his face. He had the same face as the rest of the clones, of course, but there was something different to his, something more guarded.
Ella hums as she assesses his bandage around his eye, pulling a pair of blue gloves over her hands. “Pain level?” She asks, her fingers beginning to fumble around the bandage.
“Manageable.”
“Any headaches?”
“Yes.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
She noted his responses without comment, removing the bandage with ease. “Keep your eyes shut for a moment while I adjust the lights.”
She dimmed the lights, and now the space that was normally blazing with white lights, was now soft and dim. “Okay, you can open them now. Let me know if it's still too bright.”
Ella watches as his eyes open and then immediately scrunch close again, his new eye not used to such light. They open again, and he blinks a couple of times, his old and new eye adapting together.
“How does your cybernetic feel now?” Ella asks, reaching for a scanner, Wolffe’s attention sharpening.
“Fine.”
Ella nods. “I don't think you will need another bandage,” Ella says, gloved fingers assessing his eye. “But you will need to continue avoiding sudden movements for the next few days. Your balance will still be compromised until your brain fully adjusts.”
“I’m already adjusted.” Wolffe grunts as Ella starts scanning.
She gives him a pointed look. “You need to continue resting.”
He sighs. “You don’t know how I operate.”
“No,” Ella agreed. “But I know how head traumas heal. Or don’t.”
She finished the scan and stepped back, giving him his space back. “You’re healing within the expected parameters. There is a little inflammation, but no signs of neural degradation. Your scar and stitches are healing nicely. I’m going to give it a quick clean, though.”
“That's not necessary,” Wolffe sighs, his annoyance becoming clearer.
Ella grabs the antiseptic spray and swabs anyway. “Close your eyes.”
Wolffe obeys with a loud sigh, his eyes shutting. Ella gives the scar two sprays before taking the swabs to clean up the dried blood around the stitches.
Ella smiles. “There, all done. Wasn't so bad, huh?”
Their gazes held for a moment longer than strictly necessary before Wolffe sighed once again, reaching for his helmet. “You’re dismissed.”
She nodded once and turned to leave, but paused for a brief second. “If you experience any severe pain or disorientation, you’ll tell me.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“That's not a suggestion.”
Ella sighed as she walked away from him. He was just as reserved and irritable as he had been when they met. At least he listened in a medical setting. She watched him as he walked out of the medbay, his helmet back on his head. She had a feeling that his eye was bothering him more than he was letting on, but decided she wouldn't press him on it too much. For now, anyway.
The drop was clean.
Too clean, Wolffe thought as he watched the planet swell beneath the viewport as the venator released them from hyperspace. Clean drops never stayed that way. They were promises the war didn't intend to keep.
Ella felt the shift in gravity as a pressure rather than a jolt. She stood braced near the med crate, boots planted, hands steady on the straps. Around her, troopers checked seals and weapons with quiet efficiency.
This was her first mission with them.
She had been preparing for the past day. She planned for specific situations until the outcomes blurred together, memorised terrain profiles, though none of it accounted for the way the LAAT smelled when it descended into the atmosphere. Burned fuel and overheated metal. The sharp, almost electrical tang of anticipation.
“Two minutes!” The pilot called.
Ella opened up her kit for a final check. Stims, sealant, coags. She sighed and looked up across the hold to Jayr, who gave her a single nod.
The ramp dropped into noise. Blaster fire cracked against duracrete almost immediately. Orders snapped over the comms, crisp and controlled. Ella moved when told, stayed where she was placed, following the flow without interfering with it. She kept low, close to cover, med crate dragged behind her with a practised pull.
The first victim came quicker than she had expected.
“Trooper down!”
Ella was already moving.
The trooper was lying on his side, one hand pressed hard against his side where scorched armour had split, his helmet had flown off from his head from impact. Ella slid in beside him.
“Hey,” she says calmly. “I’ve got you.”
His breaths were sharp, eyes bright with pain and adrenaline. Ella’s hands were steady as she cut away the damaged plating, assessed the burn, and applied sealant with firm precision.
“Can you move?” She asked.
The trooper nods.
“Then you're not done yet,” Ella said, earning a huff from the trooper below her. “Let's go.”
The fighting had stretched on for longer than expected. Ella had lost track of time. Lost track of everything but the rhythm, assess, treat, release or hold.
“Ella! Over here!” Jayr shouted, beckoning her over.
A trooper with a shattered wrist sat pressed against a wall, pain shaking through him. Ella knelt beside him, splinting with quick hands whilst murmuring instructions he followed automatically. “You'll feel a little pressure.” She said.
“I can handle pressure.”
She chuckles. “I know you can.”
Later, she stabilised a young trooper who couldn't stop shaking, shock settling in beneath his calm exterior. She anchored him with her voice, steady and unhurried, grounding him until his breathing slowed. She stayed until he was steady, then moved on.
By the time the area was secured, and it was time for extraction, Ella's hands ached. She didn't notice until the adrenaline subsided, until the air smelled more like smoke than threat. She sat back on her heels and took a breath.
The ship was quieter after a battle, but never truly silent.
The venator had settled into a low hum once the last of the returning gunships had docked and the wounded had been processed. Engines vibrated faintly through the bulkheads, a steady pulse that most of the troops had learned to ignore long ago. Lights dimmed automatically along the corridors to simulate a night cycle, though very few aboard the cruiser ever truly slept when they were supposed to.
The Medbay, however, remained awake.
Ella stood at one of the central stations, shoulders slightly tense as she reviewed a diagnostic scan. Rows of datapads were spread across the counter beside her, casualty logs stacked in careful order. Several troopers occupied nearby cots. Fortunately, none were critical, most were dozing or resting while bacta patches did their work.
She moved between them quietly, checking monitors, adjusting bandages, offering a calm word here and there. Her voice stayed low, steady enough that even the more restless soldiers gradually settled.
The last patient she checked was a trooper with a burn across his upper arm. He was awake now, watching her work with tired eyes. “That sealant should hold,” Ella said, finishing the final wrap. “You’ll be stiff tomorrow.”
He huffed softly. “Tomorrow sounds good.”
“It usually does after a day like today.”
That earned a faint chuckle. “Thanks, Doc.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stepped away, updating his chart before moving back toward the main console. Only then did she allow herself a slow breath. Her hands hurt. Not too much, just the dull ache that came from hours of constant work. She flexed her fingers briefly, then returned to the casualty projections she had been updating.
Across the room, the medbay doors slid open. Ella didn’t look up at first. Troopers had been coming and going all evening. Bootsteps echoed across the floor, measured, deliberate, heavier than most. That made her glance up.
Commander Wolffe had entered.
He stopped near the far counter, helmet in one hand. His posture was as rigid as ever, though fatigue showed in the faint tension around his jaw. His new eye caught the medbay lights differently than the other, reflecting a dull metallic glint.
He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he watched.
Ella noticed, of course, but she didn’t acknowledge it right away. She finished updating the file in front of her before turning fully toward him. “Commander.”
He pauses for a brief moment, looking around at his men before looking back at her and nodding his head.
Wolffe set his helmet down on the counter. “I’m reviewing casualty reports,” he said.
Ella nodded toward the datapads beside her. “You’re welcome to them.”
Wolffe stepped closer, gaze flicking briefly over the screens. Numbers, projections, recovery timelines. He scanned them quickly. “You’ve already updated the projections,” he observed.
“Yes.”
“Others usually wait until the morning cycle.”
Ella shrugged slightly. “I was still here.”
That answer didn’t satisfy him as much as she probably expected. Wolffe glanced around the medbay again. Several troopers were asleep now. Jayr worked quietly at the far end of the room, but even he seemed slower, exhaustion settling in.
Wolffe watched her for another moment. Then his gaze shifted slightly downward. There was a darkened mark along the side of her sleeve. A blaster scorch. Faint, but there.
His eye narrowed. “You were hit.”
Ella looked down briefly, as if only now remembering it was there. “It’s nothing.”
Wolffe didn’t move, but something in his posture changed. “Show me.”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Ella let out a quiet sigh, the same one she had used on him more than once over the past weeks. “You’re off duty, Commander.”
“And I have a medic that's injured.”
“It’s barely a scratch.”
Wolffe stepped closer. “Doctor.”
The tone was enough. Ella held his gaze for a moment, then relented slightly. She set the datapad aside. “It's barely worth mentioning.”
She rolled her sleeve up just enough to reveal the injury. The burn was shallow, but it had clearly taken a hit through the edge of her gear. The skin around it was reddened, untreated except for a quick field patch.
Wolffe studied it in silence. “You didn’t report it.”
“I had patients.”
“You are a patient.”
“No,” Ella replied calmly. “I’m the medic.”
That answer lingered in the air. Wolffe didn’t like it.
“Jayr, c’mere,” he said, looking over at where Jayr stood.
Jayr immediately walked over at his Commander's order, stopping in front of where Ella stood.
Ella blinked. “I’m fine, I swear it.”
Wolffe gave no sign that he even registered her words and instead looked to Jayr. “She's got a blaster mark.”
Jayr crosses his arms as he looks at her, an eyebrow raised. “You told me you were fine.”
Ella sighed. “I am.”
Wolffe moved slightly aside as Jayr reached for supplies. He cleaned the burn with efficient movements, his expression unchanged. “You should’ve had me look at this earlier,” he said.
“It’s minor.”
“That’s not the point.”
Wolffe watched them for a moment longer. Something about the situation felt backwards. Normally, he was the one ignoring injuries. Not the medic.
Wolffe cleared his throat as Jayr continued wrapping the bandage. “You stayed with the forward assault unit longer than scheduled.”
Ella glanced up at him. “You were monitoring that?”
“I monitor everything.”
She hummed quietly. “A trooper went into shock. Leaving wasn’t an option.”
Wolffe remembered the moment now. He had seen the delay in extraction timing. At the time, he had assumed the situation required it. He hadn’t realised she had taken the hit during it.
“You didn’t call for backup.”
“I managed.”
“You were under fire.”
“So were you.”
That answer earned the faintest shift in Wolffe’s expression. Jayr finished securing the bandage and lowered her sleeve. “There,” Ella said. “Problem solved. I told you guys it wasn't bad.”
Jayr rolled his eyes, muttering something about her being stubborn as he walked away, going back to his patients. Wolffe didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned slightly against the counter beside her, arms folding across his chest.
Across the medbay, one of the troopers shifted in his sleep. Another murmured something unintelligible before settling again. The quiet stretched. Wolffe’s gaze moved briefly across the room. He noticed something else then. Several troopers had remained longer than necessary. Not because they needed treatment. Because they trusted her, he had seen it during the mission, too. They moved around her differently now. Less cautious, more comfortable.
“You handled yourself well planetside,” Wolffe said.
Ella blinked once, clearly not expecting the comment. “Thank you.”
“You followed positioning orders.”
“I like not getting shot.”
“That’s a good strategy.”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth before disappearing again. Wolffe noticed. Then he pushed away from the counter slightly.
“You’ll be attending mission planning tomorrow,” he said.
Ella frowned slightly. “I didn’t realise medical staff were required for tactical briefings.”
“They aren’t,” Wolffe replied.
“But your casualty projections have proven useful.”
Ella leaned back slightly in her chair.
“So this is about efficiency.”
“Yes.”
She studied him briefly. Wolffe didn’t elaborate.
Finally, she nodded. “Alright.”
The command room was brighter in the morning cycle, though the air still carried the weight of the previous day’s battle.
Holographic terrain rotated slowly above the central table, mountain ridges, broken city blocks, and narrow corridors mapped in shifting blue light. Several members of the Wolfpack were already present, helmets tucked beneath arms or resting against the table’s edge.
Sinker stood near the display, arms crossed, watching the projections with a thoughtful expression. Boost leaned against the far side, quietly speaking with Comet.
When Ella stepped into the room, the conversation dipped for a moment.
She looked more rested than the night before, posture steady, hair pulled back neatly again. If anyone hadn’t seen her working in the medbay for hours after the mission, they wouldn’t have guessed how late she’d stayed.
Sinker gave her a brief nod. “Doctor.”
“Good morning.”
Boost shifted slightly, making space near the table without saying anything. Ella stepped into the opening naturally, setting her datapad down beside the holographic display.
A moment later, the doors opened again. Commander Wolffe entered, and the room straightened instinctively. He moved to the head of the table, helmet in hand, before setting it down. His gaze swept the room briefly and paused on Ella for a fraction longer than anyone else might notice.
Then the briefing began.
“The next operation will take place here,” Wolffe said, activating the next layer of the projection. “Separatist forces have reinforced supply routes through the lower district. We’re moving to disrupt transport and secure the central relay.”
The hologram zoomed in. Narrow streets, collapsed structures, and multiple elevation changes. Ella studied it quietly while Wolffe outlined the movement plan.
“We’ll enter through the northern corridor,” he continued. “We move fast, secure the relay, and extract before heavy resistance mobilises.”
The troops around the table nodded subtly, already tracking positions in their heads.
Ella tapped something on her datapad. Wolffe noticed it. He didn’t stop speaking immediately, but his attention sharpened slightly.
When he finished outlining the approach, there was a brief pause.
Ella spoke then. “The northern corridor is partially collapsed.”
The room shifted slightly, not tense, just curious. Wolffe looked at her.
“Yes.”
“The debris field will slow stretcher extraction.”
Boost glanced at the hologram again. “She’s right,” he said quietly. “That alley’s tight.”
Ella gestured toward the projection. “If someone takes a hit here,” she said, indicating a narrow section between two structures, “there’s no direct evac route unless you reroute through the southern access point.”
Wolffe stepped closer to the table. “Which adds time.”
“Yes,” Ella said. “But reduces secondary injuries during extraction.”
Sinker tilted his head slightly. “How?”
Ella zoomed the projection further. “The northern corridor creates a bottleneck. If blaster fire increases while someone’s down, troopers bunch up here.” She pointed. “That’s where injuries multiply.”
The room went quiet in that thoughtful way soldiers got when something made tactical sense.
Boost exhaled softly. “She’s not wrong.”
Ella continued calmly. “If you stagger the entry teams slightly and leave this route open,” she said, highlighting a side passage most of them hadn’t focused on yet, “you keep a clean evacuation lane without slowing the advance.”
Wolffe studied the projection, evaluating, though, not dismissively. After a moment, he adjusted the hologram slightly, running the movement pattern again with her suggestion integrated.
It worked. It was cleaner, there was more space and therefore less risk of cluster casualties.
Sinker gave a small approving nod. “That’ll help.”
Comet spoke next. “Also keeps med access clear.”
Wolffe straightened slightly. “We’ll adjust the entry timing,” he said. “Keep the southern lane open.” Wolffe deactivated the projection. “We depart at 0800.”
The meeting began to disperse, troops grabbing their helmets and datapads as they moved out. As Ella gathered her things, Sinker paused beside her. “Good call.”
“Thanks.”
Boost nodded once on his way past. “Better than getting dragged out of a firefight again.”
Ella allowed herself a small smile. She was starting to feel like an important member of the squad. Her previous nerves seemed to have vanished, a new wave of confidence flowing through her at the acknowledgements through the briefing. They took her suggestions well, the commander too, which surprised her.
Maybe this time, when they deployed, she wouldn’t feel like the new medic anymore.
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