Chapter Text
Had space always been this cold? Echo had spent so much time in space since leaving Kamino, yet he had somehow never noticed. His blacks had kept him warm enough, and the small shared barracks spaces on the cruisers and transports were tight enough that the body heat of his brothers would make up for the lack of warmth.
The Havoc Marauder wasn't filled with bunks of sleeping brothers, and the cold seeped in at night in a way Echo hadn't thought possible. It snaked between the thick fabric of his blacks and curled around his fingers, well, the ones he had left. And that was the real issue, wasn't it?
Hissing, he dug his fingers into the skin just above where his prosthetic arm began, the metal so cold it felt as though the skin there was burning. He couldn't even feel the bite of his fingernails into what he knew was flesh.
He hated it.
But what could he do? He was like this now. More machine than man. A freak.
Angry, he rolled over, tucking the blankets tighter around himself in a desperate attempt to trap even the small amount of warmth his shivering body could produce. He pulled his legs up as high as he could, tucking his scomp arm against his chest and flinching at the chill it caused.
It didn't help.
Growling a low noise of frustration and helplessness, he fought the urge to shift again, knowing it wouldn't help. Nearby someone stirred. Echo froze, but no one moved afterward, and he slowly untensed.
He still wasn't sure about the men he called his squad yet.
He didn't regret his decision to leave with them. He knew Rex would have done everything in his power to ensure he still had a place in the 501st, to ensure he would be accepted back into the fold. But Echo knew it wouldn't be the same. He wasn’t the same.
He looked… wrong. He was too pale, too gaunt, his prosthetics making sure that he could never wear standard armor again, ensuring that he stood out in and out of kit. He saw the looks he'd gotten even during their short time on the base. Mistrust, disgust, and it wasn't their fault. At least Echo didn't think that. He'd been the tool the Seppies used to kill who knows how many thousands of brothers. The fact that he lived while they died? He hated himself for it every single day.
He'd wished for death so many times during his time in the Techno Union, and now for some reason, he'd been allowed to live. Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy.
Fives.
Of all the thousands in this war, he'd made it.
He wasn't sure he was glad.
Echo firmly pushed that thought to the side. No, he'd survived. He'd survived, and he'd spend every single day fighting for every single brother who had died because of him. That's what his squad would want. That's what Rex would want.
He wasn't going to betray his brothers again.
His flesh fist clenched tightly as he thought those words, and his scomp whirred quietly as it spun a few times, drawing his attention back to it, his anger fading to a dull sense of nothingness as he stared at the metal.
It was hard sometimes to still think of them as part of him. Even now, with Clone Force 99, he was different. They had genetic mutations, and sure they looked odd, but they were still human. And they had said it themselves that the traits they had were considered desirable. They were designed to be elite. He was built back from scraps to survive. They were not the same.
They'd taken him on, offered to even, but did they regret it? He had ARC training, but now half of that was useless as so many maneuvers required both hands. Other than that, what did he bring to the team? He was older than them, not by much but enough, but he didn't have the fighting experience of those years like Rex. He could scomp into a system and mentally link with machines, but he'd seen Tech work. Sure Echo could do it faster, but the engineer certainly could do it as well. He was still weak from his time spent being used as a living mainframe, so he couldn't go on the more physically demanding missions, and his skills with a blaster, while good, were nothing dramatic after his muscles had atrophied over time.
Overall he couldn't figure out why the elite team kept him around. He was grateful to not be decommissioned as any other brother in his position might, but he hated feeling like a burden on his team.
They had trained and fought together their entire lives, which already would make any attempt to integrate a new member difficult, but he was crippled and recovering, which made it nearly impossible.
Sighing, Echo curled tighter around himself, shivering weakly.
He would stay, he had no place else to go, but he would not allow himself to be a burden to the team. No matter what, he would make himself valuable. Make him worth keeping.
(-o-)
It was almost two months before Echo was strong enough to partake in a mission other than as a getaway driver when things inevitably went sideways, and he was determined to make a good impression.
That is why he ignored how his prosthetics and the surrounding skin ached in the snow they were trudging through and studiously pretended not to feel the way the joints began grinding after only an hour into their trek, his head pounding from the painfully cold squeeze of his cybernetics.
He was a soldier, kark it! What good was he if he couldn't even take a little cold weather and change in terrain?
By the time they had reached the old republic outpost, the pain had become severe. He constantly had to move the limbs to stop them from icing over at the joints and around where they met his flesh. But he grit his teeth and stayed quiet, knowing that the moment he mentioned the issue, he would be sent back to the ship or told to stand by as the others searched the facility, and that was unacceptable.
"Alright, let's get in, grab the intel and get out. Those clouds are making me nervous," Hunter huffed as they finally made it to the base of the small building. Echo had noticed Hunter constantly swiveling his head the entire walk, his attention jumping from the gathering storm head to the trees and snow piles around him like an oversized massif. The constant checking and quick movements had set Echo on edge, though the other three seemed unbothered, so he'd tried to relax.
"Well, we won't be getting in this way, these mechanisms have long since frozen shut, and I think it's rather obvious that the power for the station is out," Tech remarked, tapping his datapad on the visibly icy metal door creating a low thunking.
"Ah, we'll see about that!" Wrecker scoffed as he moved up to the door, taking the butt of his rifle and slamming it against the ice along the door's seam, making a small crack. He then widened his stance and gripped the door, groaning as he attempted to pry them open.
A few minutes later, the door hadn't budged, and Wrecker backed off, panting audibly.
"Wow, that thing's really stuck!"
Crosshair scoffed, and Tech visibly rolled his eyes, his helmet tilting with the motion.
"Yes, and if you're quite finished proving my point, I think I've found another way in," he remarked blandly, pointing at a nearby patch of snow.
"The snow?" Wrecker asked hesitantly, causing Tech to give a huff of exasperation and walk over to where he'd been pointing.
"No, not the snow. If this outpost is designed the same as others, which I'm confident it is, then right around here-" he came to a stop and suddenly stomped hard on the ground producing a hollow metal clang, "There will be a door to the lower levels of the facility." He finished smugly.
"Good work, Tech," Hunter complimented as the group made their way over to where the engineer was standing. Echo lagged slightly as he stomped his own foot to try to loosen the sudden stiffness in his knee joint, grimacing at the pain that shot up his back from the motion. He'd need to be careful not to stand still too long out here, lest it lock up completely.
Glad the helmet hid his face, he came to stand next to Crosshair as Wrecker and Hunter swiped snow off the small trapdoor with their boots.
"If there's no power, how exactly are we going to get the intel?" The sniper drawled, making no move to help.
"Well, my hope is that we find a generator or something similar that will give me enough power to use the terminals long enough to retrieve the information we are looking for."
"And if we don't?"
Tech glanced up at his brother before shrugging and pointing up. Echo and Crosshair followed the motion to see he was pointing at a series of panels on the flat portion of the roof alongside the radio infrastructure.
"This outpost was quite isolated even during its active years. The entire facility was designed so it could run on solar power. Obviously, since its decommissioning, the panels have fallen out of repair and been blocked by the snow, but should we clear them off, I'm confident they would provide the necessary power."
Echo squinted at them before casting a dubious look back at Tech.
"That looks like a little more than a little disrepair," he said hesitantly. The panels were all angled oddly, and it seemed some had collapsed entirely under the weight of the snow over time.
"I don't need the whole array. One or two would be fine for what I'll do," he shrugged, and then their attention was returned to the hatch as Wrecker hefted it open with a loud whine of rusted hinges.
"Right, who wants to go first?" He asked cheerfully as they all peered down the pitch-black hole.
(-o-)
If Echo thought it would be warmer in the facility than outside, he was sorely mistaken. As little as he had been able to feel it, the sun had apparently been providing a significant amount of warmth, and without it, the temperature had dropped even further. Within minutes of making their way through the dark tunnels, his teeth were chattering as his breath fogged through the vents of his helmet, illuminated by their headlamps.
"It's karking freezing down here," Wrecker grumbled, rubbing his gloves together.
Echo would agree if he wasn't so focused on clenching his teeth to stop him from making any sounds of pain. His arm felt ready to snap off, and his head felt like it was in a vice. The flesh around his prosthetics had gone from numb to such an intensely painful burning it had him blinking away tears when he moved.
Something was seriously wrong with his prosthetics, but what could he do about it? It's not like they could just suddenly make it not cold, or he could go back to the ship. No, unfortunately, he was just going to have to deal with it until they retrieved the intel and got back.
Pausing in his steps for a moment, he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to draw on his ARC training techniques to ignore the pain. It didn't really work, but it would help him focus at least a little more. Determined to keep trying, Echo stepped forward to continue.
Or, he tried.
As soon as he went to bend the knee back on the step, something caught in the joint, causing him to stumble, the jerking motion breaking through whatever ice had formed in the back of the joint but also sending him pinwheeling for a terrifying moment.
A firm hand grabbed his upper arm, and Echo almost screamed as the pressure squeezed the oversensitive flesh around the top of the prosthetic.
"Woah, watch your footing there, Echo, there's some icy patches," Hunter's voice filtered through the haze of pain that had overtaken Echo's thoughts, and he forced himself to give a jerky nod in response. A moment later, the Sergeant released his grip, and Echo could have cried in relief. As it was, his entire body was throbbing with waves of pain now.
"The room we are looking for should be just up these stairs," Tech called back, his voice echoing slightly in the eerie silence of the underground facility. Echo blinked hard to try to clear the moisture from his eyes and nearly flinched as he saw the steep, narrow stairs ahead of him.
He, he could barely walk, and they wanted him to go upstairs?
But the alternative was admitting to how bad of shape he was in, so when they began to ascend, he grit his teeth and forced his grinding, lagging legs to comply as he made his way slowly, painfully, up.
By the time they got to the top, Echo was lightheaded and trying very hard not to pant audibly. The others slowly fanned out into the room, but Echo stayed where he was, pretending to scan the room but really choking down tears as his back screamed at him.
After a moment, he remembered what happened when he stood still too long and forced himself into painful motion as he began to wander the room slowly.
"Got a generator here, Tech, but I doubt it'll run," Hunter called from the far end of the room where sure enough, an old generator lay. One look at the thing brought Echo to the same conclusion as Hunter. There was no way that thing would even turn on, let alone power the terminals.
Tech abandoned the wires he'd been using to connect his datapad to the nearby screens and wandered over, giving the generator a quick once over. The sigh he gave a moment later sealed their fate.
"I could likely fix it, but it would take time I would rather not spend. It seems the solar panels are our best option."
"Right," Hunter said decisively before turning to look at the others, "Looks like we need to clear those panels. Crosshair, Echo, head up and start getting that snow off. Wrecker, you and I are gonna sweep the place and see if we can't find anything useful that got left behind or another generator."
Echo felt himself nod, but internally he was screaming as they made their way over to the simple rung ladder that led up to the roof hatch. He stood back in a clear indication for the other to go first, which Crosshair did with a huff. Scaling it quickly, the sniper began working on the hatch locks and shoving against the door, no doubt heavier from the snow piled on top of it.
Sure that the other man was thoroughly occupied, Echo took a deep breath and carefully grabbed the ladder, lifting his foot to the first rung. So far, so good, the limb creaked as he forced the knee to bend further than walking had, but the pain wasn't any worse than it had been from the stairs. With a misplaced boost of confidence, he transferred his weight fully to that leg to bring his other foot up.
His vision nearly whited out.
He couldn't stop the short huff of air that left his body as it felt as though someone was taking a hot poker to the base of his spine, and he clung to the ladder to stop himself from collapsing completely.
He stayed like that for a few long seconds, body trembling as he stood on the bottom rung, the aftershocks of pain fading back to the steady throb. Kark. Kark! He panted quietly as he got himself back under control.
A grunt above him, accompanied by an icy blast of air had him flinching, letting him know that Crosshair had the hatch open. He couldn't stall anymore.
Echo may have zoned out a little on the climb up because suddenly, he was at the top and couldn't even comprehend the pain. His back had just become a column of fire, legs and arms shaking, while his lungs felt like they couldn't draw enough air. Pushing that all to the side, he instead forced himself to focus on noticing the slight warmth of the sun, and while it didn't help in the slightest, it was at least something else to focus on other than the debilitating agony of his body.
"Come on, let's get this over with," Crosshair snapped as he stalked over to the nearest panel that looked mostly intact and began using his arms to shove snow off.
After a few more seconds of just fighting to breathe, Echo managed to stagger his way over to help, though, after an aborted movement, he resigned himself to only using his flesh arm. After all, he still had to get back down the ladder.
They worked in silence. As it turned out, the panel was much larger than it had looked from the ground. Eventually, Crosshair had simply climbed on top and began shoving snow towards the edges, where Echo would swipe it onto the roof. The panel had creaked ominously at first but held the lithe clone's weight.
The wind started picking up when they were nearly halfway through clearing the surface, which helped and hindered their efforts in bursts. Growling as a fine dusting of new snow was blown from the neighboring panel onto the one they were clearing, Echo cast an angry look at the sky only to flinch at the sight of building dark clouds.
"Uh- I think that storm is going to hit soon."
Crosshair paused in his efforts to also look up at the sky before letting out a string of curses and comming the others.
"Is this doing anything?" He snarled.
There was a moment's pause before Tech's voice came through.
"Yes. I have minimal power, which has allowed me to begin the data transfer, but the speed could certainly be better. Are you still attempting to clear the panel?"
"Of course, we're still clearing the panel! It's karking massive, though, and the wind keeps blowing more on."
Despite the growing pain in his back and arm, Echo huffed a small laugh at the sniper's tone, earning him a wordless snarl from the other man.
"And I appreciate your efforts. As I said, the power currently is sufficient for the transfer to happen, just not quickly. I'm also picking up storm alerts. How does it look from up there?"
Echo paused a moment to allow his aching arm a break as Crosshair grumbled a reply.
"Storm is moving in fast. We won't make it back to the ship before it hits."
Tech hummed distractedly at the news, and Hunter finally cut in instead.
"It'll be safer to hole up here and ride it out. Wrecker and I found what were probably the bunkrooms for the men stationed here. There's not much left, but it's got no outward-facing walls or windows, so at least if we get a heat lamp going, we can keep it relatively warm.
Echo almost groaned aloud at the thought of getting a chance to sit down with a heat lamp.
"Tech, how much time do you need to finish the transfer?" Hunter asked, earning a considering hum from the engineer.
"Likely no more than ten minutes to extract what we were sent for. If necessary, I can come back for extra data after the storm has cleared."
"Just get what we came for and call it. Crosshair, Echo, at ten minutes, come back down. I don't want you guys up there when the winds start picking up."
A scattered round of affirmatives followed the commands, and the pair got back to work, trying to ignore the dropping temperatures.
(-o-)
Ten minutes had never felt longer to Echo. The storm had come in fast, and by the time Crosshair had declared it time to stop, Echo had discovered a new personal definition of agony. His scomp arm had gone completely numb other than the brief shots of pain he got when it bumped against the hard plastic of his armor, jostling the connection to his organic upper arm. His legs were sending phantom sensations shooting up from his knees, and he was sure that if the left one wasn't completely locked already, it was kriffing close.
All he could muster was a jerky nod in response as the sniper slid off the panel, and the pair staggered over to the hatch. Crosshair wrenched it open and immediately grabbed the handles on either side, stepping down and back to begin his descent.
Echo clutched to the handle to support himself as he swayed slightly, his scomp arm pressed tightly to his abdomen. He knew he was unsteady and would take a while to get down the ladder, so he waited for Crosshair to reach the bottom and step away before he shuffled to the lip of the hatch, the first wrung only a foot or so below.
Closing his eyes, Echo took several deep breaths to steady himself before he tightened his grip on the handle and stepped down.
This time he couldn't stop the thin, wounded sound that forced its way past his lips as the pain hit him. Surely it was worse than the first time. It had to be!
Alone at the top of the ladder with the sound of the wind and his own helmet covering the sound Echo gasped for air. Another whine escaped him as he carefully transferred his weight again and stepped down, his vision graying at the corners as he grit his teeth hard enough to hurt.
Just one more. He pleaded with himself, trying to mentally push past the pain and focus on just the movement of step, shift his grip, step, shift.
It didn't work.
Then he realized he had an even bigger problem. He was almost fully inside the building now, but the heavy hatch lid still stood open above him. He gave a snarl of helpless frustration as he realized not only would he need to step back up at least twice to reach it, but there was no way he could hold onto the ladder and lower the hatch without using his scomp arm as a brace.
He couldn't do it. He could barely stand the feeling of it touching his armor, and he would have to brace the hatch on his forearm as he stepped down to grip the ladder with his good hand. It wouldn't work. His arm wouldn't be able to hold the weight.
But he had to do it. The hatch would let in more snow and cold from the storm if left open, and if he asked for someone to help, he'd have to explain why and then the others would know how karking useless he really was now.
He would have to do it.
Tears of pain welled in his eyes as he determinedly dragged himself back up the two rungs, straining his scomp up to hook on the handle, and with a harsh tug, he knocked the hatch door down enough to slam into his arm.
He couldn't stop the cry of pain as his vision went white at the feeling that shot through his entire body. All he knew in those moments were pain as the heavy metal impacted the metal of his arm.
Then he was falling.
It took him mere moments to realize that he must have let go of the ladder, but he was too disoriented to stop it.
Instinct took over as he grabbed for the ladder with his good hand and managed to catch it for a brief instant, but lost the grip as his full weight yanked on numb fingers.
Above him, he heard the hatch slam shut just as he himself hit the floor, pain lancing through him again as everything went dark.
(-o-)
Echo was dragged back to awareness by a sharp spike of pain from his arm. Confused and his thoughts still sluggish, he groaned in protest and attempted to curl inwards, trying to bring the arm to his chest in some attempt to alleviate the pain. Something held it in place, though, and he made a low whine as it tugged on the flesh around the connection.
"Don't move. You've done enough damage to yourself, and these prostheses would not hold up to much more."
The sound of Tech's voice jolted something in Echo's mind, and he squinted his eyes open to find himself laid flat on his back with the engineer sitting next to him, carefully holding his scomp arm.
"What?" He muttered as he tried to remember what was happening and why he was apparently just laying somewhere that clearly wasn't the Marauder.
Oh, that's right, they had been getting the intel. He'd been coming back in because of the storm, and he'd....tried to grab the hatch...and fell?
Tech must have seen the confusion on his face because he sighed, slowly lowering the arm to cradle it in careful hands in his lap as he gave Echo an annoyed look.
"You fell while coming down from the roof because you neglected to mention that your prosthetics were unfit for subzero temperatures and were failing," he replied in a clipped tone, causing Echo to wince before giving his own scowl.
"Wasn't like you can change the weather of a whole planet, and I was tired of being the taxi driver while you all went out on assignments," he replied, some of his bitterness leaking through.
He glared at the engineer who had removed his helmet at some point so Echo could see his own scowl as the smaller man narrowed his eyes.
"So, instead, you jeopardized your squad's safety and our mission's success?"
"What! I did not-" Echo snapped, trying to sit up, but a stabbing pain from his lower back put him down again fast.
"You did," Tech cut him off sharply before visibly reigning himself in, though his expression still showed how annoyed the other man was at Echo. "Your choice to ignore this issue could have jeopardized everything. What would have occurred should your prosthetics have failed in a combat scenario? When you were near the roof's edge? When we were too far from shelter to help you? As it is, you fell almost five feet and were lucky to remain relatively intact."
"It wasn't important-"
"I do not believe that in this squad that is your call," Tech inserted tersely. "It is my understanding that something like this should be brought to the attention of your commanding officer, and it, at their discretion, should be determined unimportant, or am I incorrect?"
Echo stammered, his anger still hot but unable to refute the other man's words.
"Well, am I incorrect, Hunter?"
"No, as usual."
Echo snapped his head to the side to see Hunter standing in the door, Wrecker and Crosshair behind him as they walked into the room, removing their helmets, arms bundled with what looked like various blankets and supplies. Instinct had him ignoring the pain and forcing himself into a seated position despite Tech's hiss of warning.
"Hunter-" Echo started, feeling the need to defend his actions, to assure the other that this was a mistake and a fluke, but the other man held up a hand, frowning.
"No, Echo. I know you are still new to this team, but as soon as you knew we were coming to a world with weather conditions that would affect your abilities in the field, you should have spoken to me. Or once you realized it would be a problem. We would have-"
"Left me on the ship again? Had me sit this one out? That is exactly why I didn't say anything. My alterations do not affect my performance in the field, and I don't need to be treated like glass because I'm missing a couple limbs," Echo snapped, his frustration overriding his ingrained training to never interrupt a superior officer.
Hunter scowled at that, but Echo only glared back. He was too tired of being treated so-so fragile! He was a soldier! A karking ARC trooper! Not some shiny who'd never seen battle!
Crosshair and Wrecker shared a quick look before edging around Hunter to find seats on the other side of the room. Obviously, they realized this needed to play out and wanted no part. Tech stayed where he was for now, but Echo only had eyes for Hunter as the man stared at him.
"I was going to say we could have prepared better or figured something out, but this is clearly something we need to talk about," he stalked over and, to Echo's shock, dropped to sit in front of the former ARC. "So let's talk."
Trying to recover from his surprise, Echo just gave a firm nod.
"Now, you said earlier that your prosthetics don't affect your performance in the field. Afraid this whole thing proves otherwise on that fact, but!" He raised his voice slightly as Echo opened his mouth to argue, "I do understand where you're coming from on how we have been handling the situation. You were a prisoner of war for a long time. The things they did to you have lasting effects, and I'm not just talking about your new additions."
Echo grimaced but allowed the other to continue.
"You and I both know that the only reason you made it through all that after we got you off Skako was sheer adrenaline and spite, and I don't need to tell you that wasn't sustainable. Your choice to accept our offer was also made under duress in a way. These last few weeks have been for both of us. You needed time to readjust, heal and see how we operated so you could make an informed decision about staying. I needed to see how you would fit into the squad, how far your recovery would take you and what your physical and mental state would be once you crashed. Hence, why I kept you off active duty till now. I'm more than aware you're a capable and loyal soldier, but we do things differently, and I know that we sometimes push the line in a way that a lot of regs don't like, so that was another part."
Hunter gave him a grim smile.
"You've seen for yourself now that we don't have a commanding officer. Missions and intel can come from anyone at any time. We have no stable living situation or companionships like those stationed on the cruisers or bases and no steady source of supplies. We go on the missions that they don't even want to send ARCs into, and if something goes wrong, there is no backup, no one to come pull us out. We trained our entire lives for this, and I can't ignore that you haven't, and that may have made me overly cautious, but if you think you are recovered enough and still want to try to make this situation work, then I'll defer to your judgment," Hunter stated firmly, looking Echo in the eye.
And didn't Echo feel like an utter sheb now because while he was still frustrated, he saw the logic in the other man's words. He'd been so caught up in trying to be mad that they were treating him differently, trying to find some perceived slight against him, that he hadn't even thought about what this must be like for them.
They were an elite strike team who'd trained together their whole lives and had only ever had each other to watch their backs. Yet they had still offered him a place among them. A strange brother who was half dead and more than half machine with more unknown than known factors to consider. His anger simmered down as he felt a reluctant curl of gratitude towards the man before him who, while so unsure, had apparently been trying his best, while Echo had just been making it harder.
"I-I appreciate that, sir," he said hesitantly, earning a nod from the Sergeant.
"No need for the sir. I might be the highest rank in this squad, but we don't use that formal osik. I lead this team because I was deemed the most qualified, but we're all equal on all other fronts, alright? You have any problems, remarks, issues with anything, including how I'm doing something, you speak up, got it?"
"Yes."
"Good, then let's talk about why you didn't say anything about the fact that Tech says your prosthetics were on the edge of complete failure and the metal was giving you frostbite."
Echo flinched at the words, paired with the unwavering stare of the other. How was he supposed to get out of this?
"Si-Hunter, I don't really kno-"
"It'll be easier if you tell the truth. Hunter can tell when you're lying."
Echo startled a little as he was reminded of the smaller clone next to him. Tech was watching him with a curious expression that Echo decided he didn't want to think about too much.
"I really didn't think it was a concern," he bit out instead, turning his attention back to Hunter. He resisted looking away to find the source of the snort from across the room.
Hunter raised a disbelieving brow, "You thought that the potential complete failure of three of your limbs wasn't a concern?"
Echo's cheeks burned as he clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't going to say it.
"Tech says you would have been in an excruciating amount of pain between the ice and the frostbite. Why not say something? I don't like the idea that you think it's okay to hide an injury from your squad."
Echo couldn't stop the small snort at the other's wording, earning him an even stare.
"You find something about that funny?"
Echo met his eyes steadily, mouth twisting. "The fact that you call it an injury. Like this is something that's going to heal up and go away. I'm never going to be a person again, not after what they did to me. So why bother complaining about it?"
The former ARC tried not to feel satisfied when his harsh words caused the Sergeant's face to go carefully neutral. He didn't want to talk about how far from human he was. Or his implants or prosthetics, or what that bastard Tambor had turned him into, but something in him also hated the fact that Hunter wasn't acknowledging them. He hated the fact that the other man was acting like Echo was anything other than the freak he was, and he couldn't stop some of that from leaking through now.
"You're right."
Echo's eyes narrowed.
"You're implants and prosthetics aren't going away. Injuries like that don't heal over time or get better. How exactly, though, does that make you not a person?" Hunter asked mildly, and the calm tone paired with that question finally pushed Echo over the edge.
"Because I'm a fucking freak!" He snapped, surging forward to get in the other man's space, teeth bared in a snarl, "Cause I'm some karked-up science experiment who can barely get through a night without waking up screaming. Because I am closer to a droid than a man, and I will never live a day without being constantly reminded about what that sick bastard did to me! About the fact that hundreds of thousands of brothers died because I was too karking weak and got captured and too much of a coward to kill myself before letting them use me against everything I loved!"
He was nearly screaming by the end, his body shaking as tears of pain, rage, and grief blurred his vision. In the aftermath of his outburst, his head dropped, fingers coming up to clutch the metal permanently encasing his head. He curled forward over his splayed useless legs and panted and gasped for air as everything finally welled up inside him and tore free, and he couldn't stop the lone choked sob that slipped out.
A careful hand settled on his shoulder. Not grabbing or demanding, simply a small weight, but he latched onto it mentally and tried to bring himself under control.
It took him longer than he would like before he slowly raised his head, allowing his arms to fall to his lap. Hunter was still seated patiently in front of him, his face still blank, but there was a softness to his eyes. Almost understanding.
Echo wanted to apologize for his outburst, for yelling at the man who so far had only tried to help him, but before he could speak, Hunter was talking.
"It was our third mission and first in an active combat zone. Until then, it had been easy intel retrievals, and we were sent in to extract a senator and his family from a planet caught up in a bad civil war. The war we had trained for was against droids and enemy combatants who were military trained and organized. The people on this planet were civilians driven to the breaking point by a corrupt government and a failing economy. They didn't have battle strategies, standard-issue weapons, or even cohesive sides. They took up anything they could find and used it to kill each other."
Hunter's tone was flat in a way that made Echo feel cold. He knew the type of warzone Hunter was describing. He's seen the planets that tore themselves apart before the war could even reach them. They were the brutalist fights he'd ever seen, the ones with the highest cost.
"We were told that our objective was to get the family out and to the evacuation point. Anyone between us and that mark was to be considered a hostile combatant and dealt with accordingly," Hunter continued as he shifted to sit in a new position and began to work the clasps of his left greave methodically.
"So we did. We gunned down men and women alike because they held a gun, or a stake, or a brick. We killed them all until we were almost out of the city."
The greave came off, and he worked on pulling off his boot, voice still that same flat tone.
"The government had been trying to stop the fighting with shows of power and by killing its citizens regardless of their sides. Except while their people starved and had their funds stolen away, the government had put their resources into arming themselves so that when the winner of the fighting came for them next, they wouldn't stand a chance. One of these shows of power was a black market TX-225 Occupier tank."
His movements stopped as his eyes stared blankly for a moment.
"They opened fire on the market where we were fighting our way through. Sent heavy artillery into a crowd of their own citizens who didn't even have armor or real weapons," he said, voice soft.
Echo nodded because there was no other response he could give. Not to something like that. Hunter seemed to shake himself a little and tugged his boot off with a little more force than necessary.
"Obviously, we got clear, or we wouldn't be here having this conversation. But, well, we didn't make it through completely unscathed, I suppose…."
Echo's mind ground to a halt as he stared at the prosthetic foot now exposed, his heart beating wildly as Hunter began tugging the bottom of his blacks up, exposing more and more smooth, dark plasteel casing. He stopped when he reached the joint of the knee, but the dark casing clearly continued higher.
The silence of Echo's shock was broken a few moments later when Hunter spoke up softly.
"Do you consider me any less of a person because I have this, Echo? Am I any less for having lost a part of me that day?"
Echo was reeling, his thoughts jumbled as he stared at the prosthetic. "But the cold?" He breathed distractedly, his mind still unable to wrap around what he was seeing.
"Tech modified it to be stronger and stand up to the elements," came the steady reply. "Now I need you to answer my question, Echo. Am I a freak for having this? Less of a soldier?"
"No!" Echo gasped sharply, his eyes darting up to look at Hunter to ensure the other knew he was telling the truth. That Echo didn't think any less of him for this.
"Then why are you?"
Echo made a helplessly frustrated sound, "That's different-"
"It's not," Hunter cut him off, his tone and gaze still steady as he watched Echo squirm, trying to come up with a way to explain that it was different. They weren't the same.
"You lost it in action-" he tried again, but Hunter cut him off once more.
"The Techno Union attached the prosthetics, but you lost them in the explosion at the Citadel where you gave your life to protect your brothers and the Generals."
"No. No, it's not the same! You- I don't- You're still-"
"Passing?"
Echo flinched again but gave a jerking, shamed nod. Because that was the difference between them that he couldn't say aloud.
Hunter still looked human.
Echo did not.
Across from him, Hunter gave a long sigh causing Echo's gaze to drift back up from where he had been staring down at his lap.
"I know that I can't force you to see yourself differently. That's not a choice I can make for you. You need to come to terms on your own with your new appearance and life."
Echo wilted, curling in on himself slightly more because he didn't think he would ever come to terms with it.
"All I can do is assure you that you are not and never will be viewed as anything lesser or different for your implants and prosthetics. We know all too well what it's like to be judged as strange or different to ever allow ourselves to act the same towards someone else. I hope that one day you can accept that as the truth it is, but until then?"
Hunter shifted his attention to Echo's left.
"Tech, how long would it take to modify my prosthetic to be armor-plated? I'd need something that would stand up to a blaster bolt and take some hits to its surface without getting dented or jamming. Without the armor covering it, we might need to add some mesh or something around the joints to stop anything from getting in the mechanisms."
Echo's eyes widened as his head whipped up to stare at Hunter, who was looking at his leg with a critical eye.
"Hmm, I could probably have a prototype done in a few days, given we can stop somewhere to pick up some small parts?"
Hunter nodded, "That'll work. Would it be one I could wear and test on the Marauder while you're modifying this one?"
"Of course."
"Wait! What are you- what are you doing?" Echo asked frantically, his head snapping between the two other clones who eyed him curiously.
"Modifying my prosthetic, so I don't have to wear armor over it," Hunter stated easily, but Echo was shaking his head in denial and disbelief.
"Wha-why? Why would you want to-"
"Because my prosthetic is nothing to be ashamed of. The only reason I hid it was because I had never seen much of a point in modifying it when I had a full armor set already."
"But you still do? Why would you-"
"’Cause until you believe what I said about not being seen badly or as lesser for having visible prosthetics, I'll just have to prove it to you. The Kaminoans might have some questions for me, seeing as I got it done behind their backs, but our policy is usually asking for forgiveness rather than permission with most things we do off the books."
Echo was reeling. Hunter had a prosthetic. Hunter was about to purposely put said prosthetic on blatant display to… make Echo feel better about his own? Make it seem like he fit in?
It was-it just didn't make sense.
"You don't have to…" he tried to protest one more time, feeling like he had to try to convince the other that this wasn't necessary, but Hunter was shaking his head.
"I know I don't have to, but I want to. You don't get the option of hiding your prosthetics or implants. As your leader and brother, the least I can do is not hide mine and stand with you. It's my choice, vod, and I'm making it happily," Hunter promised steadily before breaking into a smile and glancing at Tech, "Plus, while Tech is working on mine, he can get yours updated as well. He's had to become quite the prosthesis repair and creation expert over the last year or so, haven't you, Tech? I'm sure he can get you outfitted with some sturdier stuff if you don't mind him poking at you for a few hours. After all, can't have you freezing up like this again when it gets a little cold out."
Next to him, said engineer let out a long put-upon sigh, but when Echo glanced at him, he could tell the scowl he was giving the other man was more for dramatics than any real annoyance.
"You could say that I suppose, not by choice, I'll have you know. But Hunter is correct, the prosthetics you have currently were fine for your time with the Techno Union, but now that you are on active duty, they are in sore need of an upgrade. I would have approached you on this earlier, but I had mistakenly believed them to be more cold-resistant, given your extended time in a cryo chamber. I apologize for my oversight on the matter. I've given you some painkillers, which should be kicking in, and we can jury-rig something to keep the edges touching your skin warmer for the trip back. Once we arrive on the ship, with your permission, I would like to inspect the neural connectors and mechanics of the prosthetics and implants. They will likely need to be redesigned and made from scratch, but I need to know what I'm working with. We'll also need to refit your armor and possibly your kit to provide more cushioning and insulation, as well as-"
"Right, Tech, I think he gets it," Hunter cut the engineer's musings off with a fond grin.
Echo was stunned. They were taking this so calmly. They weren't mad or inconvenienced or even weirded out by his prosthetics and implants. Tech even wanted to make him new ones that would let him be in the field again?
"We're going to bed down here for the night, or longer, depending on the storm. Wrecker, Cross, and I were sweeping the rest of the place to see what they could find supply-wise. The heat lamp should keep us warm enough for a while, so you're free to get some shut-eye," Hunter remarked as he rolled to his feet and walked over to an old heat lamp that Echo hadn't noticed. Stooping, he picked it up and placed it nearby before dropping back down where he'd been sitting and pulling out a datapad. Echo didn't miss how he made no move to roll down his blacks or replace his armor.
Rustling next to him drew his still dazed attention to where Tech was digging through his pack.
"I'd like to apply some bacta gel along the seam between your prosthetics and skin to try to heal some of the chaffing from the cold and then wrap them with bandages and thermal material. We'll reapply before we head back out. Also, I don't keep as much on me these days, but I have some lubricant for prosthetic joints that should stop them from icing again until I have a chance to remake them. I will allow you to apply them if you are uncomfortable with me doing so, but I would likely have an easier time given the locations and your current condition."
He straightened, holding two small med containers, waiting expectantly for Echo to answer.
This was all too much, but the other was waiting, and he knew he was right.
"Erm…you can apply them. If that's alright, I mean," he hated how hesitant and confused he sounded, but Tech made no comment, merely nodding and immediately tugging the scomp arm back into his lap, removing one glove. He wiped his hands quickly with a sterilizing wipe before dipping his fingers into the bacta and gently working it into the prickling skin.
Echo hissed a low breath. The pressure, as gentle as the other was being, hurt, but he made sure to hold still, and after a few moments, the numbing of the gel began to hit, and Echo felt himself relax ever so slightly.
He let his attention drift after that, his mind vaguely focused on the sensation of the other's warm, clever fingers working the gel evenly around the seam. After Tech had finished that, he roused Echo and tugged the hems of his blacks out of the way to get at the skin around the top of his lower body prosthetics.
At some point, Tech started talking, not seemingly to anyone in particular, just musing aloud how he would plate Hunter's leg without throwing his balance off or how this or that looked about what he was doing. At one point, he simply rattled off facts about a specific local bird that apparently based its mating habits around storms like the current one.
It was oddly soothing to Echo's frayed nerves and mind, which may be part of why when the other poked and prodded him to shift enough for them to get a thin padded thermal under him and lay him back, he just went along. The relief of just laying fully down again was immense, and in no time at all, he drifted off completely.
(-o-)
As promised, when Tech woke him sometime later, the other meticulously reapplied the gel as Echo listened to the other three coming and going as they explored the facility. Wrecker eventually was chosen to stay with him as the others went to clear the solar panels again and pull as much remaining data as possible.
Echo wanted to be mad that they were clearly leaving him out of work, but Wrecker was laughing and telling him over-the-top stories about the squad's previous adventures, and he wasn't in pain, and those two factors alone made it hard to resent the situation.
As it was when Hunter declared it time to head out, Wrecker had to help lever Echo up as even with the rest, his prosthetic legs lagged roughly as he tried to climb to his feet. The giant nearly lifted him right off the floor, and Echo wouldn't admit how much he appreciated that the other left his hand there as support as Echo flexed his knee joints slowly to get them moving again.
Tech insisted on lubing the joints one more time before wrapping them in a thermal weave to help protect the skin and prevent ice from forming or anything becoming caught.
The trek back was infinitely better if just as cold. The storm had piled the snow high, and Wrecker wordlessly took the lead, boring a path through the tall drifts as Crosshair, prick that he was, called mocking encouragement down to them from where he prowled on top of the snow above them. But Echo was grateful for the effort, as even with the extra protection, he had feared he wouldn't make it if he'd tried to force his legs through the snow.
The thermals and lubricant were serving their purpose, and Echo was shocked to find just how smooth the movements felt for the first time since the medical unit had released him after his rescue. Why had he never thought about the maintenance of his prosthetics? It seemed so simple that, just like any other piece of equipment, he would need to care for them, but in the aftermath of everything and his self-pity these last few weeks, he had never thought to ask.
His eyes drifted to where Hunter was talking to Wrecker and stuck on the leg he now knew was fake. The other man had replaced his armor for practicality's sake for the trip back, but he had quietly assured Echo that he would stand by his words once they got back to the ship. It left an odd tightness in the ARC's chest to see the open trust and determination in the man's face as he spoke. And Echo knew that he would. He would open himself to criticism and disregard just so Echo felt less out of place.
Echo had known these men were good, loyal soldiers, he never would have agreed to go with them if they weren't. But he hadn't seen that they were also good men at the time. And as Echo trudged along behind them, listening as Crosshair began bickering with Wrecker about having kicked some snow down on the other, he couldn't help but feel he had indeed made the best choice by joining these men. His squad. That maybe even when everything was so different, it didn't have to be bad.