By bebelattes
Echo asks after his friend.
Chapter 2: Fives
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Echo had been in and out of the operating theatre for the last few rotations, so heavily sedated that you’d stop by his bed to check his vitals and find him either fast asleep, or gazing listlessly at the ceiling. You’d talk to him anyway, even though he never answered. You’d tell him about the messages Jesse and Kix were sending - updates about how they were getting on, how happy they were that he was okay.
Kix had taken over back on Anaxes at running the medbay, and he’d call in the evenings to give you updates. The calls would always end the same way - him asking if Echo was awake yet, if he was going to be back with them soon. You weren’t sure how to tell him that Echo was probably never going to be the same again, not after what he’d been through. You just gave the data that was on the screens, the data that showed his organs weren’t failing, that his brain waves were steady.
You’d got Captain Rex’s report through and read it over and over again. It was beyond your comprehension. Echo had been recorded as dead over a year ago, no body recovered. Adjusting the record was something you’d never had to do before. Over a year. A year plugged into a machine, using him as an algorithm to fight their battles. Over a year since he’d had a solid meal, since he’d known safety and comfort and peace.
“M-ma’am?”
You flinch a little. He’d been deep in sleep when you’d come in, and hadn’t seen him stir. His vitals all look strong, his temperature normal. The colour wasn’t returning to his cheeks as you’d hoped, still as ghostly pale as when you’d first seen him. The scans showed how much of his body had been stripped out and replaced with cybernetic replacements - his lungs, his kidneys, his arm, legs, pieces of his brain. The surgery to remove the system of ports that lined the top of his spine had been a success, and was the last surgery that seemed within the realms of possibility. Every other implant was too intrinsic, too carefully combined with his organic matter to be removed without risk.
The AJ6 around his head will help balance some of that damage, help him moderate the amount of information they’d pumped into his head. It’s something you can work with him to calibrate when he’s ready for it, but not yet.
“Yes, Echo?” you speak softly, unsure if he’s really conscious or just mumbling in semi-awakeness.
“Where’s…”
He gropes at the blankets over his lap, brow furrowed in confusion, eyes glazed.
“What’s wrong?” you move over and try to take his hand, but he pulls his hand free and keeps pummelling the duvet.
“I can’t…can’t feel my legs.”
“Echo -”
“Where are my legs?” he tries to look up, search your face, but his vision is swimming from the painkillers and he can’t focus.
“You’re okay. You’re on a lot of anaesthesia right now. Things might feel a bit weird.” you again try to move his hand into yours, but he again pulls it free.
“Where’s…where’s…? They took my…they took my legs.”
The monitor by his bed starts to beep rapidly, his heart rate rising. He’s panicking. You need to calm him down. Often, your technique would be to slightly increase the dosage of painkillers, whisper kindnesses and apologies to the injured clone as they were pulled into the throes of sleep. You aren’t sure if that’s what Echo needs. If he’s pulled unconscious against his will, it might remind him of…no, you want to calm him down without doing that.
“Echo. Hey.” you rest a hand lightly on his shoulder, smooth your thumb against the part of skin that peeks out from the medical gown and heavy bandaging, “We’ve got you.”
“Fives…” he winces.
You had tried to find the records on what happened to his friend. They were classified. All of them. The most information you could glean was that Fives passed away on Coruscant, but that his autopsy took place back on Kamino. It was not the typical procedure by any means - autopsies for clones were incredibly rare, usually deemed unnecessary and excessive. You can tell him about that when he’s up to it, but not now. Not while he’s blinking up at you with fuzzy eyes, searching your face for comfort and answers.
“We’re on Coruscant.” you say, rubbing small circles into the skin of his neck, “In the medbay.”
“Where’s…I was on…Skako Minor…”
“Yes, that’s right.” you nod, “But we took you back here. For surgery. That’s why you might feel a bit sore -”
“Hurts.”
“Yeah, I bet. Where does it hurt the most?”
He goes to lift his arm - his scomp-link side - and stares dimly at it. You’d been thinking about bandaging it up so he doesn’t have to see it, doesn’t have to keep having these realisations of what they’ve taken from him. You push it back down gently, bring the blanket up to cover it.
“Head?” you offer, “Stomach? Back?”
“Headache…”
“Headache. Okay.” you go to stand up, to check what medications you can safely give him right now to reduce the discomfort, but he grabs onto your arm to stop you.
You pause, stare down at his fingers wrapped around your wrist.
“Wait -” he sounds breathless.
“Echo.” you sit back down immediately, “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t…go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re my best patient, so you get all of my attention.” you have told many clones that they are your best patient, and never grow tired of the smug little smile it brings to their faces.
Echo doesn’t seem to register it though, his eyebrows lowering as he forces his brain into action, bringing the words to his mouth that he wants to say despite the drugged-up haze.
“Tell me…about…Fives.”
“What about him?”
“When…we were cadets.”
“Tell you a story?”
“Y-yeah.”
You smile, and flick your eyes over to the monitor. His heart rate is stabilising - the anaesthetic in his system keeping him steady and calm despite the panic that must be burning through his blood whenever he remembers what he’s going through. Your job is to distract him. To take his thoughts away from that.
“D’you remember when he twisted his ankle? Right before you were supposed to have your flight test and it had to be postponed.”
He nods.
“Well, this is a secret. But,” you lean in closer, lower your voice to a whisper, “He was absolutely faking it. He was worried he hadn’t studied enough and thought if he twisted his ankle he’d get more time to memorise flight patterns. But Master Shaak-Ti figured it out because he kept forgetting which leg he was supposed to be limping on.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. She let him away with it though, let your group have that extra week to study. I think she had a soft spot for Domino Squad.”
“Domino Squad.” he repeats, smile growing slightly as he remembers those words.
“You boys were chaos. I think I had to give Hevy more stitches than the rest of the unit combined.”
You can see him starting to drift off, his eyelids drooping as he listens to you. You reach up to gently rub his forehead, hoping that your hands are warm enough to provide an ounce of comfort.
“They’d all be so proud of you, Echo. You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here. Still fighting.”
