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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Nobody Listens to Kix

Sorry, Rebels fans. This is not Chopper the droid, but Chopper the clone trooper who was part of Slick's squad before the battle on Christophsis. Chopper has a number of physical and psychological scars, and that should be enough background for you to enjoy this chapter.

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Case 00389: Chopper

Kix packed his medic's bag, preparing for the trip mentally as well as physically. The dread he felt at the prospect was only slightly lessened because he knew his patient dreaded their appointment equally much.

Neither of them liked their meetings, but they were extremely necessary. After the explosion that had caused such extreme injury to Chopper's face, eyes, and body, the 501st's medic at the time, Coric, had started Chopper on a strict physical therapy regimen. Since then, Coric had been reassigned, but he had passed the physical therapy responsibility down to Kix.

The extensive scarring on Chopper's face, chest, arms, and back required constant physical activity or they would stiffen and he would essentially become paralyzed by the scar tissue.

Chopper, for his part, was terrified of all medics and medical personnel, a holdover from his time being treated after the injuries, when the non-clone staff had debated sending him back to Kamino. Even then, every vod had known that was code for reconditioning. Much as Kix had gotten a reputation for treating his brothers whether they liked it or not, he didn't enjoy torture, and that's how Chopper saw their sessions.

An hour later, the transport Kix had hopped was preparing for arrival at an outpost on the secluded edges of wild space… which was a nice way of saying it was in the middle of nowhere on the galaxy's shebs.

Parable Outpost was the kind of place troopers prayed they wouldn't be assigned to. It was quiet to the point of dullness, there was no local life to speak of, and no combat had ever come within 100 parsecs of it. The outpost was the home of foolish brothers, the lazy ones, and any men who had found some way to piss off a superior officer badly enough enough. No brother wanted to go to Parable, but more than a few ended up here. Chopper, however, was here on purpose.

Just before Coric had left the 501st, the medbay had been subjected to an audit and Coric, Captain Rex, and General Skywalker were required to submit a form detailing general medical expenses over the past year. They had managed to disguise the amounts that had gone toward Chopper's treatment due to - as the general put it - creative bookkeeping, but Coric had moved on and Chopper had shared his desire to do the same.

It made sense to Kix. After all, if the GAR or the longnecks found out that there was a trooper with such severe injuries - and several psychological problems as well - they would order him sent back to Kamino for reconditioning.

No one was willing to take that chance, but Chopper had to be moved out of such a combat-heavy detachment. To everyone's surprise, Chopper had come up with a list of places he would be interested in moving, including Parable Outpost.

Chopper had been marked for infantry almost as soon as he was decanted, and he was karking good at it. Over the years, his injuries and aggressive attitude had kept him from being promoted to higher ranks, but he had gained expertise on a remarkable level when it came to battle analysis. Now, Chopper worked at Parable Outpost as a Combat, Munitions, and Enemy Tactics Specialist, a division all of his own invented by General Skywalker and ratified by Generals Kenobi, Secura, and Koon.

It was a dream assignment for the temperamental trooper. In short, Chopper stayed at Parable Outpost and analyzed battle footage sent to him. He compiled reports and sent suggested improvements for tactics and weapons technology to the appropriate departments and generals. He had complete control over how much contact he had with brothers - most of whom he outranked - but could train as much as he wanted.

Even so, Kix couldn't fight back a shudder as he stepped out of the transport and approached the door leading from the hangar into the outpost itself. He wouldn't want to be stuck here, not surrounded by brothers with chips on their shoulders, trapped with troopers who had been reprimanded for underperforming.

He exchanged nods with a few random men as he made his way toward Chopper's office. The first few times he had come to Parable, Kix had been stopped over and over by men who didn't recognize him and wanted to check his credentials. Now, he was accepted as a common sight on the outpost and no one questioned him.

Chopper's office was at the end of a long hall on the officer's side of the outpost. There was nothing marking the door as his, nothing to invite anyone in, but Kix knocked with total confidence.

"Enter," Chopper barked after a long pause.

Kix stepped through the door, carefully closing it to avoid making any unnecessary noises. Chopper was a bit sensitive to unexpected sounds. The trooper in question sat at his desk, surrounded by datapads while a holoprojector adaptor threw footage from a battle on a far wall. Chopper's two-toned gaze was fixed intently on the scene, and he scrawled hasty notes on a pad of flimsi as he watched.

"It's time for your therapy," Kix said, loathe to interrupt, but equally eager to get this over with.

"We just kriffin' did this," Chopper grumbled, still writing.

Kix scoffed. "Three months ago. You know we have to work the scarring at least four times a year or it'll-"

"Yeah, yeah, it'll freeze up," Chopper interrupted. He sighed, pausing the holovid in place while he finished making notes and stood. Despite his dread of the therapy, he was already dressed in the gray outfit all clones wore to work out and spar. "Let's get this over with."

Kix nodded, opening the medical bag. He tossed Chopper a bottle of medicated lotion. "Here's enough for the next three months, at least. Are you still applying it twice a day?"

"Mostly."

Now it was Kix's turn to sigh. "Mostly? Vod…"

"I've only forgotten a few times," Chopper explained defensively.

"We'll see about that," Kix told him threateningly. "If you've been skipping applications, I'll be able to tell from the results of your range-of-motion tests."

To the medic's pleasure, the results were positive. "You've gained three more degrees of movement in your right shoulder and two in your left. That's really good, Chopper."

"Uh-huh. Let's just get through the rest of this," Chopper dismissed.

He infamously hated the next part, he always had. Kix had to work the muscles in each area, a process that required a great deal of physical contact. From what he understood, that had never been one of Chopper's favorite things, but now, the trooper despised touch on a nearly phobic level.

Kix worked to complete the process as quickly as he could while still working every patch of scar tissue as much as was necessary. By the end of it, Chopper was sweating lightly and his jaw was clenched to keep in the small pain noises.

From past experience, Kix knew his own face was pale. He hated - hated - hurting his brothers, and causing Chopper so much pain made Kix feel physically ill.

When he finally stepped back, Kix fought to observe Chopper with a medic's gaze. The trooper was pale and sweating, eyes glassy as his attention turned inward. He was fixating on the pain - never a good thing.

"Do you want the therapy machine?" Kix asked carefully.

Most sessions, Chopper refused the additional help, but it had been a long time since Kix had seen his brother in so much pain. It was a testament to the strain of physical therapy that Chopper gave a single jerk of his chin in the affirmative.

Kix wasted no time setting up the machine and attaching the small pads to Chopper's scars. The trooper's joints got a few more attachment points just because Kix had worked them so hard. Chopper didn't speak or react at all during the process.

Within two minutes, Kix had attached all the necessary equipment and powered up the machine. Chopper's shoulders crept downward slightly, dropping further from his ears with every breath.

As he stared at the small, lightweight machine that was currently blocking Chopper's pain receptors and causing a surge of endorphins, Kix fought not to fill the silence. Chopper didn't like unnecessary conversation and there was nothing Kix needed to say, anyway. He was just used to checking on the men's pain level and progress. He already knew Chopper's pain level - kriffing high - and there would be no real progress. This wasn't healing, it was preventative maintenance. Saying anything would just drive home that Chopper was deeply damaged.

Kix took in a deep breath, intent on releasing it as a silent breath, but words snuck out before he could hold them back: "I'm sorry."

Chopper's dark brows furrowed and he stared up at Kix through mismatched eyes. "No need," he said simply, dropping his gaze again.

The room's silence remained unbroken until Kix had detached Chopper from the machine, packed it away, and began to move for the door. Chopper stopped him.

"Hey," Chopper said, avoiding eye contact and speaking in a low-pitched rush of words. "I know I don't act like it, but I appreciate what you're doing for me. I don't like medics, but… I know you're a good man. A good brother. Thanks. See you in three months."

It was probably a good thing Kix walked with the crisp gait of a soldier and a medic. If Chopper had caught a glimpse of how much those words had affected Kix, the scarred trooper would have been more uncomfortable than he had been during the therapy. Still, Kix allowed Chopper's soft pronouncement to bounce around inside his helmet during the trip back to the Resolute, smiling all the while.

#Nobody Listens to Kix #one-shot #but part of a series #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper kix #clone trooper chopper #physical therapy #i'm not a doctor #the 'therapy machine' is a TENS machine #Parable Outpost #scar tissue #clone troopers deserve better

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