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Of all the damned days Fives could have picked to start obeying orders unquestioningly, this had to be the absolute worst, and Echo tells him as much.
"You knew you were walking into an ambush! You knew!" he yells.
Fives tilts his head just slightly in a way that tells Echo he has that shit-eating grin of his plastered on his face underneath the bucket. "Someone had to come save your ass."
Their intel was flawed. Again. Echo thinks that if he makes out of this alive, he is going to have words with their intelligence officers. Words that will be delivered via plastoid clad fists. The 501st had been split up, thinking they could outmanouvre the enemy and surround them, but half the men had ended up in a narrow canyon, with armoured turrets on both sides and way more clankers than they were expecting.
At that point the battle had become a rescue operation. You could say a lot of things about General Skywalker, but he would always do anything in his power not to leave men behind.
Echo had heard the order over the comms. "Disengage now. All units, pull out. Torrent company, cover Carnivore battalion's retreat. All units, pull out. Transport will be waiting two kilcks south. We're getting off this damned planet."
He wants to get out, of course he does. He wants to live. But he also doesn't want to live at the cost of a brother's life.
And exactly on that thought, Fives sways a little. "I don't think I can stand anymore," he blurts out, and then folds on himself like wet flimsi.
Echo catches him before he hits the ground, and lowers him ever so gently, a stark contrast to the noise of explosions and blaster bolts, and yelled orders all around them.
"Fives? What is it? Were you hit?" he can't see scorch marks on the other's armour, though he checks frantically.
Finally his fingers catch on torn fabric, because of course, they had to meet the only battle droid with decent aim, and a hit had made it straight for a gap in the armour, ripping easily through the undersuit, but maybe it won't be too bad, maybe - "Okay, that's- that's a lot of blood, hang on-"
Echo is not a medic. They all have basic training, mostly in what not to do, but he has never been any good at keeping people alive. He's way better at doing just the opposite.
He pulls on what little he can remember through the haze, and really, he should be better than that, he's not a damn shiny anymore, but you can never truly tame the fear. You can get used to it. You can stare at your own face twisted in pain and in death and tell yourself that's how you'll go and there's nothing to do about it. But this is Fives right there, who rushed in to save them, to save him. His vod, his batchmate.
The battle is slowing down around them, the men trickling out as best as they can, while Torrent company has set up shop at the back and is giving them cover fire as best as they can. It's not enough, and too many brothers are dying. Fives can't stand, and Echo isn't sure he can carry him far enough without exposing them both to fire from the clankers' turrets.
All he can do is try to keep Fives alive. He knows he has to keep him conscious, not let him go into shock, and to press the wound so he doesn't lose any more blood.
Echo keeps repeating "we're getting off this damn planet" like a mantra. "All units, pull out, all units, pull out. We're getting off..." While one of his gloves gets soaked with blood, and uses the other hand to rummage in his belt pouch for bandages – they are rationing bacta patches and only medics carry them.
"We're getting off this damn planet," he says with conviction.
That's why he likes his name now, though it might have started out as a taunt. He tries to comfort Fives as much as himself, and it works, up to a point.
After a moment, Fives starts slipping again, his head lolling back in a way Echo doesn't like.
"No, no, Fives, stay with me, stay with me... We're getting off this damn planet..." He repeats, trying to think of something worth keeping your eyes open for.
Fives let out a low chuckle. "You never change, do you?"
"I don't see why I should. I count on saying my last words at least twice. Years from now, in a bed somewhere nice. Somewhere with a view. Hey, hey, Fives. What are you going to do after the war?"
"Probably fight another war, vod. Let's be honest, none of us is going to die in a bed."
"We karking are," Echo countered in a furious whisper, "We are getting out. What do you want to do after?"
He carefully removes Fives' helmet and passes a gloved hand on his forhead. He doesn't want to risk removing any more armour, but he knows how much comfort Fives takes from touch. When they were children on Kamino, he was the most likely to initiate illegal cuddle piles in their quarters. Echo grumbled, but then helped him hotwire the sleeping tubes to let them get in and out at will.
Fives' eyes have a glazed expression Echo doesn't like at all. He keeps pressing on the wound, feeling blood pour out despite the bandages. At least he has some painkillers, so his brother isn't in too much pain.
"Tell me what's happening after this war."
Fives sighs like he is only giving in to humour Echo, like he's never actually thought about that. "I want to go somewhere hot. Somewhere dry where it doesn't rain."
"I like the rain. The sound always makes me sleep better."
"Who said you were coming with?" Fives teases, but his words have no real heat.
"Hey!"
"Okay, okay, you can tag along," Fives voice is getting fainter too quickly, but he smiles and keeps talking, "I want to tell the story of this war. Not the propaganda bullshit that's on every holo," he whimpers softly, the painkillers wearing out too quickly, and Echo takes his glove off to caress Fives' head. He's covered in cold sweat and shivering softly.
"Good luck with that," Echo chockes out.
"I'm not afraid," Fives replies, and they both know they're talking about more than just what to do after the war. The expression on his face turns dreamy, or it might just be the blood loss, as he adds wistfully: "I like cadets. I mean younglings. I mean, I could train... teach. Teach. You know? Just... without giving orders, though. It would be cool to be curious, just curious..."
"You were always good with the younger batches, whenever we trained together," Echo chockes out.
"What would you do, Echo?"
Even though he just asked it a moment ago, the question surprises Echo. He must confess, he'd never really considered the options much. Were there even options? He looks up, trying to come up with an answer.
That's when he sees it, the most beautiful sight in the galaxy: the markings of Kix's armour.
"Medic!" he screams, and that's probably too loud since they both have their comms on, "Kix," he breaths out, "Kix, thank the storms!"
Kix salutes, then ducks a blaster beam with ease and rolls close to them. "We were missing our favourite ARC troopers," he says by way of greeting, "We thought we'd misplaced you. Maybe the 212th had stolen you."
"Never!" Fives says, managing to sound outraged despite how much effort each word must take.
Kix tsks and swats Echo's hand away. He takes out some bacta patches from his belt pouches and works in silence for a few moments.
Then he nods at Echo, "You did a good job limiting the bleeding. This will require a long holiday on Kamino, but it could have been worse. Now help me get him back, the last transport won't wait much longer."
Echo doesn't ask Kix what he was doing on his own, then. He was looking for survivors. He must have only found them. Echo wonders how many of their vode they'll see again. Then he blocks that line of thought, and focuses on not jostling Fives too much. It's a good weight. It means they're both getting back.
They decide not to send Fives back to Kamino after all. It's not a good thing, they're simply out of time and resources to transfer anyone not on the brink of death, even though the long necks are definitely the best at getting a vod back into shape.
It's a good thing, because in the med bay of the Resolute, Echo and the others can visit.
"General Skywalker is taking a dip in bacta," Fives informs Echo cheerfully as soon as the other walks in. "I heard him yell at Kix that he was fine right before passing out."
Rex, who is sitting beside the bed, pinches the bridge of his nose. He's clearly had enough of Skywalker for two lifetimes. He is also clearly hiding in the med bay to get five minutes of peace from running the 501st on his own. There's a holopad open on his lap with a half-written report, but the Captain looks way too tired to be doing any work.
"I get throwing yourself in front of a whole battalion of clankers," Fives goes on, "But yelling at Kix? That's just plain stupid. With all due respect," he adds quickly, glancing at Rex, who just shakes his head looking almost fond.
Echo laughs. "Your mouth sure is in perfect health. If only we could talk the Seppies to death."
Fives looks down for a moment then. "Kix says I can't even get out of bed yet."
"You listen to him and rest," Echo says, taking the place opposite Rex. He puts a hand on Fives' forearm and squeezes delicately.
He means to stay only a while, but when Kix does the rounds a few hours later, he finds all three asleep, Fives in bed and the others still sitting up. Rex's holopad has fallen to the floor, and Echo's hand is still on Fives's arm.