Chapter Text
A stiff breeze sent a chill up Echo’s neck. It was just after dusk, the lights of Pabu emitting a soft glow in the distance from where he was on the beach. He’d just had dinner with the Batch, where the amount of hovering Hunter did made it a little suffocating. Wrecker was boisterous as usual to see him, Omega in tow, asking him all sorts of questions of what the Resistance was up to. Which, annoyingly, Hunter would try to steer the conversation away from.
His irritation towards Rex simmered in his chest. He could only imagine what he told Hunter that would make him feel like he needed to treat him like he was fresh off the meat grinder. It was all very reminiscent of when he first came from Skako, and he was offended at the thought of being brought back to that level of coddling.
When he briefly asked Hunter about it, the scout had quickly dodged the question. Crosshair had made a snide comment towards the scout, which Echo could feel immediately turned the atmosphere between the two brothers hot. It was like a cat and mouse game… but instead of a cat and mouse, it was two feral cats constantly spitting at each other.
Maybe it was because he was visiting and hadn’t been around in a few months, so Echo was extra sensitive to what was considered their new “normal”.
But, he couldn’t help but lament the disconnect he felt between him and his brothers. It only grew each time he left for longer periods with the Resistance. It bothered him so much that sometimes he buried himself with work to postpone his visits, afraid to see how much the cavern grew in his absence. Which made his anxiety over it worse– it was a never ending cycle.
The guilt ate away at his stomach. Because now here he was, treading alone on the beach, when he should be back in the warmth of the house watching some corny flimsy that Omega couldn’t stop blabbering about. Apparently it was movie night.
But his legs dragged on, exhaustion starting to settle deep in his body. Visiting Pabu always did that, something about the pure homesteadness of it all made his war-torn body realize everything it’d been through.
Just as he reached the end of the beach to turn around, his left leg stuttered, causing him to stumble a bit. Another thing that Rex had been concerned about. An issue Echo was pretty adamant on ignoring how it made his chest constrict when he thought about it.
It awoke an old fear of his, of being useless. First it identified itself after his time on Skako Minor; afraid he wasn’t going to be adaptable to his new body. But what happens when these limbs stop working? He put years into perfecting his mechanical advantage, he was praised among ranks for the usefulness he provided with his abilities.
But when they failed… he really was nothing but a dead man walking.
Flexing his legs, he frowned as the momentary lag persisted. The servo inputs were most likely worn from the years of wear and tear. And without Tipoca City and the seemingly endless technology they had at the ready, he’d fallen behind on his own maintenance checks since joining the Resistance.
Crosshair said Tech would be back soon. Echo dully hoped it would be tomorrow.
His legs finally restabilized as worry and frustration nagged in the back of his head, and he sighed heavily through his nose.
I need to get off this island.
—-------
The door swung open, creaking and ultimately failing Echo’s attempt to sneak back into the Batch’s home as he walked into the cozy living room. The warmth made his face tingle, he hadn’t realized it got cold outside.
“You’re back!” Omega cheered. She hopped off the sofa, the credits of whatever movie she’d been watching playing in the background, and wrapped Echo in a hug. Her head was to his chest now, the realization twisting the blade of lost time even further.
“Someone's up late. Who allowed this?” He wrapped his arm around her, waddling further into the room with Omega stuck to his chest.
“It’s a special occasion,” Hunter said from the dining table, still clearing up the remains of their dinner. “Since you’re here I allowed her to stay up until you came back from your stroll.”
“Oh,” Echo laughed sheepishly. He ruffled Omega’s hair before letting her go. “C’mon, then, soldiers need their sleep too. And don’t you say anything about me,” he said as Omega took a big inhale to start berating Echo about his own sleep schedule. “It’s different. I’m an adult.”
“That’s a horrible excuse, I’m just as old as you!” Omega shouted.
Hunter frantically shushed her. “Hey, I have the windows open and it’s nighttime outside– people are sleeping.”
Echo smuggled a laugh as Omega whispered a cheeky apology. Hunter really was leaning into the mothering. “Let’s get you to bed before you get in trouble with Mom.” He started guiding her back to the hallway towards the rooms.
“Hypocrite!” Hunter called after, earning his own shush from Echo as he turned the corner.
—----
“I overheard Hunter say you were going to stay here for a week,” Omega said as she jumped onto her bed. Echo pulled her bedsheets back, and she looked up with hope shining in her eyes. “Is that true?”
He grimaced. “A week is a long time,” he stalled, reaching up to scratch beneath his headpiece as he tried to mull it over. Seven days. He’d never stayed longer than four. He got way too antsy from not knowing what his troops were up to, thinking about lost clones waiting to be saved.
“I know you have to go back out to fight the Empire for our brothers.” His brow tightened as he saw Omega’s hope turn to dejection. “But you were gone for so long since you last came over. What if it’s the last time I…” She trailed off, turning her head to hide the tears brimming them.
“Oh, Omega…” Echo sat next to her, pulling her into his side. He dug for the right words to say; he had to say the right thing. Moments like this always caught him off guard– he never in his life would have thought he’d be within the vicinity of a child, let alone care for one like how he did with Omega. When Hunter had first brought her aboard he’d kept his distance, worried he was too serious and militarized for a kid like her. But Omega was stubborn and always got her way eventually, worming herself into his tightly guarded, yet fragile heart.
There was something in the way she looked up to him like he was the strongest person in the whole galaxy, even when he himself felt like a gust of wind could knock him over sometimes. He refused to let that image shatter for her.
He needed to be her pillar of safety.
“I’ll make you a deal.” Omega looked up to him, hope flickering in her eyes again. “By the end of my four days here, I’ll call Rex. If he has absolutely nothing urgent for me–,” he took a breath to mask his hesitation, “–I’ll stay for another week.” He knew what he was doing. Rex wouldn’t have anything important for him; Rex was the reason he was here in the first place. But Omega wouldn’t know that… it just allowed Echo a way out once he’d overstayed his welcome.
As he saw the gleam in Omega’s eyes turn to pure excitement, he hated himself for even thinking of a way to lie to her.
“Pinky promise.” Omega held out her pinky, looking very serious.
Echo swallowed, holding out his pinky and looping it in hers. Shit… “Pinky promise. Get some rest now, Omega.”
Satisfied, she pulled the covers over her, kicking a leg so it stuck out the side of the bed and whispered, “Goodnight, Echo!”
He ruffled her hair, turning the lamp off on her bedside and exited the room, making sure to leave the door cracked open an inch. She didn’t like sleeping with the door shut in the dark. After a particularly bad night she confessed when she woke up, it felt like she was back in her cell on Tantiss.
What am I thinking? Echo thought. He stood against the hallway wall, resisting a heavy sigh. I can’t stay here– but I just made a promise to Omega of all people.
Briefly, he entertained the thought.
No, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Not when there was still work to be done. He thought of all the clones back at the Resistance, and the ones still recovering from Tantis. Restlessness made him anxious, being dutiless made him lose his mind.
He truly hated himself for making a false promise to Omega.
—---
When Echo reentered the living space, the dining room's lights were off. Small lamps illuminated the living room instead, where Wrecker and Hunter sat on the worn sofa. It was dusty lime green with some old stains littered on it, somehow pairing nicely with the burgundy coffee table. It had some kind of woven table runner, and a tray of bite-sized pastries that looked like it’d been picked at.
“Don’t come in looking like a kicked tooka,” Hunter teased. “She’ll still be here in the morning when she wakes up.”
Echo paused, relaxing his face into his usual frown. “Scoot over.” He wedged himself between Hunter and Wrecker. They slowly dozed into a comfortable silence, some quiet drama playing in the background on the small box television they had. Echo was still in his own head about everything.
“I can hear you thinking too hard,” Hunter grumbled. His eyes were closed and he had his head tilted back over the sofa.
Echo feigned. “Who?”
He got a side eye from the scout. “Not Wrecker.”
Wrecker gave an obnoxious snore, mouth wide open.
“Hunter, I’ve already had this conversation with you.” Echo leaned further into the sofa and turned his head away, annoyed. He knew where Hunter was trying to steer him.
“Maybe it’s a conversation worth revisiting,” Hunter gently prodded. Echo always respected the Sergeant’s efforts to understand his feelings, but he wasn’t in the mood. It’d already been a long flight over with Rex, where the two went in circles around each other over the exact thing Hunter wanted to.
Retiring.
“It’s not.” Not wanting to talk about it, he moved to get up, but was stopped by Hunter taking his arm. He looked pensive.
“Echo, Rex told me–”
“Rex doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he snapped. Hunter looked surprised by his outburst. Echo took a breath to regain his bearing. “I’ll take my usual days off– I admit, I was starting to miss you all a lot.” He turned and looked Hunter in the eyes, a challenge flaring in his chest. “But whatever reason Rex told you on why I need to settle down is banthashit. I still have a use for the Resistance, there’s clones still out there getting decommissioned or worse. Tantiss might’ve been the tip of the iceberg! I can’t just up and leave, especially when we’ve just made a huge breakthrough for our brothers.”
Hunter’s brow pinched in a small display of hurt. “I’m not going to say I understand, because I still don’t. You’re also part of this squad, and we’ll always have a spot for you to come back to.” He paused, rubbing his fingers between each other as he searched for words. “Saying that, my intent isn’t to guilt you into staying. I just hope you truly know that if you ever feel like enough’s enough, you’re still a Batcher for life.”
At that, Echo’s embers faded, leaving him with a cold pit in his chest. He let a sigh of defeat go, head hanging down. “Hunter, what did Rex tell you?”
The scout leaned over to try and meet Echo’s eyes. “He’s worried about you. Says you’ve had a lot of close calls. That there might be something bothering you that you’re not opening up about.” He gave the cyborg a pat on the leg and huffed a laugh. “Y’know. The usual. Sometimes it’s like he’s trying to have us beat on who worries about you the most.”
Echo didn’t find it too humorous. “You guys don’t need to worry so much. I’m doing fine. Missions just get rough sometimes.” He doesn’t go further into detail.
Silence fell, and he could tell Hunter was trying to leave space for him to talk more. A minute passed, Echo’s jaw still clamped shut, and the scout sighed. “At least, tell me you’ll still think about finding some time for yourself.”
Echo finally got up to leave. “...I’ll think about it.” As if he doesn’t already, multiple times a day. Guilt tore him both ways, constricting his chest as he stalked down the hallway to his room.
Which, despite being his room, it looked vacant for the most part. Just a bed, a night stand, and a few trinkets spilling out from the closet. Most of them were Tech’s, though, as he’d taken up using the closet as an extra storage since Echo didn’t occupy his room.
He sat heavily on his bed, leaning on his knees and rubbing at his temples to soothe a headache that’d persisted ever since he talked with Omega.
He hated all of this. He was sick of the constant remorse that sat in his gut. Everyone was urging him to slow down but that was impossible. Everything felt like a lose-lose. Stay in the Resistance, live with the regret of lost time as his family grew up. Stay in Pabu, and let all his war efforts for the past few years fall to nothing.
Let his fallen brothers’ sacrifices go in vain.
Ditch the never-ending debt he had to repay for what he caused on Anaxes–
Shut up, shut up, shut up! Echo dug his palms into his eyes. He could feel his tremors start, a stress reaction that he was prone to when he stewed in his head too long.
It was like being here on this island dredged up every issue he’d locked away. He needed to find something to occupy himself with, or he’d lose his mind.
Echo stood up and started pacing, gnawing on his thumb. Deeply, he missed his brothers and Omega. It was like he left a part of himself behind when he left, always aching for the comfort of his family who’d been through thick and thin, seen him at his lowest and some of his highest.
But it almost seemed like he didn’t quite fit into their homesteady picture. Worryingly, he wondered if he’d ever fit in. Maybe he was just too far hardened. He bit down on his nail harder. Stop it, stop it. Echo was aware he was spiraling now, the stress of the day fully latching on to him.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
“How many times do I have to tell you– You’re not light on your feet.”
Crosshair.
Just to hear him startled Echo out of his daze, eyes snapping towards the sniper.
“S-sorry,” Echo winced, his breath causing him to stutter. “Did I wake you?”
“Yes.” Echo had half the mind to guess he was probably lying. “And you’re about to wake up everyone else with your thumping, so quit it.” His voice seethed with ire, but Echo knew better than to assume it was all directed at him.
It was difficult to figure out at first, the thorny personality the sniper bore towards everyone. Echo’s fifth mission with the Batch was a particularly dangerous one. One of his legs had gotten smashed, and the two had gotten into one of the worst arguments they’d had. After Crosshair had stowed himself away in the gunner’s seat, Echo nearly crashed out at Wrecker for laughing, still hot from the argument.
“He ain’t really angry at ya,” the ordinance technician explained. “Cross never really does emotions. He’ll just snap at you until you figure it out. I think you scared him pretty badly with your leg, and the way he handles it is by antagonizing you over it.”
Slowly, the strewn puzzle pieces that Crosshair seemed to be made of started to click together for Echo.
And years later, it allowed him to see through Crosshair’s temper. “Are you okay?” the cyborg asked pensively.
“I will be, once you stop clanking around on your feet.” Crosshair growled.
He couldn’t help the flare of defensiveness that smoldered in Echo’s chest. Crosshair was going after his weak points and it was already crumbling his own esteem. “I’m not the one who came in looking like a wreck.”
Crosshair whispered a bitter laugh. “Takes one to know one.”
Echo’s patience waned thin, the statement stabbing further into his chest as it pressed at old wounds. But, he slowed and took in the sight of Crosshair. His eyes were rimmed red, and in the illuminance of the moonlight that shone off the floor, Echo could make out the dampness of wiped tears on his cheeks. He sombered further, whatever he was stewing over forgotten, as he noticed the hand that had gripped his shoulder was now wrapped tightly around the cyborg’s wrist. The sniper’s body was tense, as if bearing to strike a punch. Maybe even take one.
And Maker, bless Echo’s heart, if he didn’t see a past version of himself in Crosshair at that moment.
He flexed his hand, the grip causing it to ache a bit. “Cross, what’s the matter?”
Crosshair, as if just noticing his hold on Echo’s wrist, tore it away. His expression looked like he was caught as he grumbled a harsh, “What’s it to you?”
Now it was Echo’s turn to reach after, but Crosshair quickly smacked his extending hand away. “Don’t–”
“I won’t.” Echo stopped and held his arms out placadingly. He was reminded of their moment earlier that day, in the Marauder. “But I might be able to understand.” The silence that fell between them was pleading. He wished to hear something, anything, from his brother. But he wasn’t naive and knew it didn’t work like that.
Crosshair opened his mouth and choked on a breath. Echo held his own, watching the sniper’s conflicted face as he struggled to form words. But just as quickly, his face stoned over and he wrangled a harsh, “Quit imagining things,” and left the room quickly, as silently as he came.
Leaving Echo alone, grasping at what exactly just took place. His chest finally loosened for the first time that day with a newfound resolution.
This was where he can help. For his brother.