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The waiting room of the Ord Mantell General Medical Center is easily one of the worst places the members of the Bad Batch have ever been trapped in. (Save, perhaps, for Echo. But at least the memories of his stasis chamber captivity are foggy and disjointed. He will never be able to forget the details of this experience.)
Trapped is the wrong word, but it's also the exact right one. Though all of them have the freedom to leave the waiting room for a bite to eat or a break from the bland, off-white walls, none of them will. Not while Omega is lying on a surgical table, her life hanging in the balance.
Echo shifts uncomfortably in the hard plastic chairs, cursing the ache they've caused to spread through his lower back. They're horribly uncomfortable at best. Some sort of twisted scheme by the back and spine department of the med center to bring in more revenue, at worst. At one time, he suspects they were as white as the walls, but time and frequent use has stained them the same color of a long-time tabac user's teeth.
He glances at the chrono for the fifth time in the last three minutes. Time feels like it's moving slower than Echo thought possible.
"You're doing it again," Hunter, who's sitting next to him, mutters. Echo looks down and finds that he is, indeed, bouncing his leg up and down— a habit that's somehow persisted even with the amputation of his legs. They're bouncing almost as much as Tech's are, though Tech's flesh and bone legs do not make the same quiet creak when they bend at the joint that Echo's do. Hunter and his sensitive ears have been surprisingly patient for the last few hours, but that patience is obviously running thin.
Understandably. All of theirs is.
"Sorry," Echo presses a hand to his knee, and the shaking stops. "I just... I thought they said it would only take an hour."
Tech, who has been hunched over his datapad with his elbows on his own shaking knees, turns to look at the two of them.
"The surgeon said it would only take an hour if the appendix had not yet burst." Echo has no doubt Tech has spent every waking moment reading every medical article published in the last five cycles on the topic. "But, according to my research and the pain she claimed to have been in..."
"Ay," Wrecker interrupts him, throwing his hands over his ears. "I told you I didn't wanna hear it, Tech."
"I am only stating what we already know."
"And I don't wanna hear it again!" Wrecker suddenly stands, his hands folding together and resting on his head as though he just finished running a few klicks. He walks with heavy steps to the other side of the otherwise empty waiting room. When he is out of earshot, Echo looks back at Tech.
"And if the appendix burst?"
Tech is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. The way his eyes flicker down at his lap isn't comforting. When he finally speaks, he continues staring at his fidgeting hands instead of at either Hunter or Echo.
"Appendicitis is serious in its own right, but easily fixed through surgical removal. But if the appendix has ruptured prior to proper removal, then the abdomen would be flushed with bacteria that can cause infection. And if the infection is unable to be contained then..."
"Alright," Hunter stops him, the half of his face not shaded in tattoos suddenly a few shades paler than before. "That's enough."
Before things went to hell, Hunter was having a pretty good day. They had returned from one of Cid's missions the night before, and she told them there was nothing further she could give them for a few days. The last job had also given them a pretty hefty buy-out. Enough that even with their Mantell Mix debt, they had a surplus.
Tech was adamant about saving the funds, but Hunter convinced him they could use a real meal for once. A few of Cid's regulars gave him some recommendations for places they like to frequent— which Hunter made sure to make a note of as establishments to avoid at all costs. But Tech found a diner with affordable but highly-rated food, and that seemed like the best option to satisfy all their hunger.
The time leading up to dinner was light and relaxing. Echo was trying to teach Wrecker, Omega, and him how to play Desert Draw while Tech caught up on some much needed sleep after piloting them through the night.
Omega was quieter than normal, but Hunter assumed she was just tired. It had been a long mission, and from the tossing and turning he heard from her makeshift room, he suspected she didn't get very good sleep. Unfortunately, that sort of thing is common for all of them. Still, he hates to see that Omega is inheriting their insomniac tendencies. Another reason to splurge a little on a fun night out. Hunter hoped a little bit of relaxation and some full bellies would send them all straight to sleep the moment they returned.
Then came dinner and Hunter really should have realized something was wrong because the only thing Omega ordered was a milkshake, claiming she had too much Mantell Mix. Had Hunter been paying better attention he would have realized that she hardly touched her post-mission snack. Or noticed how her hand was pressed against her right side for much of the night. But he didn't realize all of these signs that should have been obvious until they got up to leave and Omega's legs buckled from beneath her.
Adrenaline rushes are a weird thing. Because in the moment, Hunter was hypervigilant of every single detail. More so than usual. The screeching noise the polyester diner booths that clung to his armor made as he tore himself from them. The gasps— some from his squad and others from bystanders that had watched her crumble. It all happened simultaneously in slow motion and too fast for him to process. Thankfully, Wrecker was right there, his reflexes quick to prevent her head from cracking against the side of the table.
Hunter's knees hit the hard tile and the reverberations traveled up his thighs and down to his toes. There was a heartbeat pounding rapidly in his ear and it took him a moment to realize it was his own. When he touched her, the heat of her skin felt as though he made the mistake of pressing his palm to the recently running engine of the Marauder. He tore it away just as quickly.
She was sick and delirious and in pain! Omega was in pain! That was the worst part. Her groan of utter agony echoed in his ears and made every bone in his body feel like jelly. Usually, Hunter has some idea as to where pain is coning from. It's a blaster burn, a stab wound, a bruise blossoming underneath swollen skin. But other than the obvious fever that had managed to overtake her body without anybody noticing, he had no idea what was wrong.
Adrenaline rushes are a weird thing because one second he was watching Wrecker scoop her up and Tech yelling— has he ever heard Tech yell like that?— that he had to keep her as still as possible. One second they're rushing out of the diner and into the streets and her quivering sniffles are the only thing he can concentrate on. One second Echo is jumping into the street to stop the ambulance from passing them because someone in the diner had the good sense to call for help.
And the next moment he's sitting in this damn waiting room. Every time he tries to remember what happened from the time the four of them pressed themselves into the back of the ambulance and now, his memory splinters. Tainted by the adrenaline dump that came as soon as they stopped running and whatever they forced into Omega's veins made her shaking body go still.
Silence is not a common occurrence in the Bad Batch, but right now it's so quiet that Hunter is painfully aware that the hinge in Echo's left leg needs to be oiled soon. Their loss of words is not just for the outcome of the surgery, but for what will happen when she wakes up.
All Hunter knows is whatever Omega went through in Nala Se's lab was bad. Bad is a gross understatement, knowing the Kaminoans, but he can't bear to put a stronger word to it at the moment. All of them had it bad, but at least Hunter knows what to expect from the rest of them. The simple fact of the matter is, Omega has never been the one lying in the med bay bed, and he feels helpless with not knowing what she'll need.
Hunter glances at Echo in the seat next to him. His face is blank, eyes glossy and unfocused as he stares at the blank wall as though he can see straight through it. Echo wakes up swinging and panicked. His first instinct is to fight, requiring multiple of them to run interference until he realizes he isn't back on Skako Minor. They've learned to never perform procedures on him while he's asleep. Not even scans. At least when he's awake he can see who's there with him at all times.
He looks to his other side where Tech also seems to be somewhere else mentally. Tech's panic is silent and internal. It paralyzes his mind within himself, letting it snowball into some deep dark place that can be difficult to pull him from. Or he's delirious, grabbing at his eyes, asking over and over "what did you do to them?". Hunter knows who "they" are, and it makes him want to put his fist through a wall every time he thinks about it.
Wrecker is a runner. It's impressive how far the big guy can get if they're not careful. One minute he's unconscious in bed and the next he's tearing his IV's out and beelining for the nearest exit. Sometimes that exit is a door and other times it's a window. They always have to keep someone with him to try and talk him back into bed.
Crosshair usually came out of unconsciousness fairly docile, but he went into it fighting nail and tooth. He never wanted medicine, especially pain killers. He would threaten every doctor or medic or nurse who would listen to him. Nobody was to touch his head. Especially his eyes, though his reasoning was not quite the same as Tech's.
And Hunter, so he's told, comes out screaming. Any sort of procedure thrusts him straight into a sensory overload, so it takes a lot of sedation to ween him to a point where the assault of sensory input is somewhat manageable.
Omega is an unknown. They don't know how she's going to take it. Based on how hard she deliriously fought against any mention of a med center, he guesses it won't be good.
His stomach churns at the thought of Omega waking up scared— or worse. Waking up alone.
The chair next to him creaks again. Echo is looking at the chrono for the fifth time, and now his slight shift in position has made the squeaking in his leg even worse. Hunter finally sighs and decides to say something about it. He'll be useless if he gets a headache before seeing Omega.
Tech is the first on his feet the moment the double doors to the waiting room slip open. The Pantoran doctor that spoke to them earlier enters with long strides, her blue surgical gown billowing out around her.
He glances at the chrono as she approaches. Three hours and eleven minutes since Omega was taken back for surgery. Taking into consideration the average times for emergency patient prep and post-surgical time, Tech estimates she was under the knife, so to say, for about two and a half hours.
The odds of a normal, complication-free appendectomy lasting two and a half hours is very low. Unless this surgeon is an outlier in terms of efficiency, which he knows Dr. Nahi is not. Her record as a pediatric general surgeon is impeccable, free of any malpractices as far as he can tell. For appendectomies in particular, she has a 100% survival rate and an admirably low post-surgical infection rate.
"How is she?" Hunter's voice is the first to sound off before Dr. Nahi has time to stop walking. Her golden eyes crinkle with what Tech hopes is positivity.
"In recovery, now."
Hunter stiffens. "Is she awake?"
Of course, she isn't awake-- it takes forty-five minutes to an hour to come out of general anesthesia and if Dr. Nahi is still in her surgical gown and cap then she must have come straight from the operating room. Plus the recovery room is one floor up and seventy meters from the OR, which would only take an individual of average height and gait five minutes to reach— assuming the elevators do not take more than 20 seconds to reach the surgical floor.
Tech's urge to correct Hunter is stifled by Dr. Nahi shaking her head. "Not for another thirty minutes at least. I was told you all wanted to be there when she woke up?"
Hunter runs his fingers through his long locks. "Yeah, she's gonna need some familiar faces."
"I can take you up to her, then."
"And explain how her surgery went?" Tech interjects. The Pantoran doctor's face falls slightly but she nods.
"I'd be happy to."
Dr. Nahi leads them out of the waiting room and into the med center hallways. Tech plants himself at her side with Hunter and Echo behind them. Wrecker, who has been quite adamant about not hearing the specifics of Omega's ailment, lags at the back of their group. Wrecker has never been squeamish when it comes to blood or medical talk so he is a little unsure what could be bothering him.
"Unfortunately," Dr. Nahi begins her sentence, which is never a good way for a surgeon to lead a statement. Tech's chest constricts with nervousness but he doesn't let his anxiety show. "by the time we got her into surgery, her appendix had begun to burst."
This is what Tech predicted and what he feared. For once he was truly hoping he had been wrong.
"We were able to resect it before the appendix completely ruptured, but it presented new complications to the surgery. The bacteria that leaked into her abdominal cavity caused mild peritonitis," she glances back at Hunter and Echo who are also listening intently, "her abdomen and surrounding organs became inflamed. We had to clean the chest cavity as thoroughly as we could to prevent further infection."
"What are her chances of infection?" Tech asks, already having a few numbers swimming around his brain.
"With antibiotics, bacta treatments, and lots of rest, I'm optimistic she will have an easy recovery," Dr. Nahi stops outside a door labeled RECOVERY. "But there's always a chance. I will have the nurse come by to give all of you a briefing on her post-op orders. Appendectomies are common procedures, but it is still a major surgery. Her rest and recovery should be of the utmost importance."
"Of course, doc." Wrecker finally chimes in. "But uh, can we see 'er now?"
Dr. Nahi moves to the side and the four of them practically charge into the room.
And then they all stop short just a few steps into the room.
Wrecker isn't sure he can do this. He's seen a lot of stuff— a lot of bad stuff, really bad stuff— but there is just something really horrible about a kid in a hospital bed. Especially since that kid is Omega.
She's just... so small. The bed is adult size despite this being a kid's ward, and Omega hardly takes up a quarter of it. And then there's the tubes and wires and... it almost looks like there's more medical equipment than there is Omega and it stops all of the Bad Batch in their tracks.
Wrecker glances at his brothers. All the color has drained from Echo's face and he's sticking close to the wall. Hunter and Tech made it in the furthest, but even they are taking a pause at the sight of their littlest member being swallowed up by medical equipment. Though Wrecker really, really wants to run back to the waiting room, the last thing he wants is for Omega to wake up alone. He hates waking up alone.
I can do this. I just gotta take one step after another. Find a chair. Sit. Wait.
It seems simple when he thinks about it like that. So he does it. Wrecker takes a step. Then another. He can feel the others watching him, and then they soon follow suit. The closer he gets, though, the harder it is. Omega is pale, like Echo after Skako Minor pale. Her arms are hanging out of the blanket so Wrecker has full view of the various needles and tubes sticking out of them.
Another step. Find the chair. Sit down.
He finds a chair just in time. Hunter sits next to him and Tech stations himself at the end of her bed to glance over her chart. Echo is still sticking near the walls as though he's allergic to medical beds. They are quiet again. Wrecker can't remember the last time they were this quiet for this long. Maybe it was right after they had to leave Crosshair. Nobody knew what to say that day. They still don't know what to say.
Wrecker can't help but wish Cross were here. He always knew how to cheer him up during stuff like this. Whether it was distracting him while they waited, or giving his short, brutally honest yet shockingly optimistic assessment of things, he always knew what to do. But Crosshair's gone and Omega's sick and Wrecker can't help but feel like this is somehow his fault cause he was with her most of the day and realized something was wrong but didn't know something was really wrong.
She hadn't finished their traditional post-mission snack. Omega always finishes it. And she was letting them win at cards. And she was quiet, man, he should've known.
"Wrecker," Hunter whispers, and his head snaps up to meet the concerned face of his brother. "What's up?"
He's tempted to throw back a simple "not much" and pretend like he has no idea what Hunter is referring to. But Tech and Echo don't seem to be paying any attention to them anyway so he sighs, rubbing his calloused hands over his scalp.
"I shoulda told someone she was sick," he admits the guilty truth he's been hanging onto. "I kinda knew she wasn't right, but I thought it was a cold or something. Didn't think it was... this bad."
Saying it out loud doesn't make Wrecker feel any better. Hunter's hand squeezing his shoulder does, though.
"I know what you mean. I was thinking the same thing."
"If she woulda just said something—"
"We all do the thing where we pretend to be okay, Wreck," Hunter says with a tight smile. "I got no doubt Omega also thought it was just a cold. Or she knew it was bad and didn't want to say anything, in which case we're gonna have to make some changes about how we do things," his sergeant's voice starts to shine through as he looks around at the others and raises the volume of his whisper. "We all gotta start setting an example. For Omega and for each other, because this has happened too many times. If something is wrong, tell somebody."
Wrecker distantly thinks about the headaches he's been having lately. They're annoying more than anything, but from what Hunter's saying, maybe he should say something...
"What if it is nothing?" Wrecker asks. Tech raises an eyebrow.
"If there is something causing noticeable discomfort or pain, it is unlikely it is nothing, Wrecker."
He grunts, leaning back in the chair. He'll get around to mentioning the head thing after Omega is feeling better.
Omega wakes up to the feeling of weightlessness encapsulating her body and making her mind foggy. As soon as she realizes this is not just any feeling but a horrifyingly familiar one, she feels her chest start to constrict and throat feel tight.
Not again! No, not again, how did I get back here? I don't remember her giving me anything! Nala Se didn't say I was going to have to go back under so soon. What did she do this time? What did she take... or leave? Oh no... oh stars, how long will this time take to recover? How long will I be stuck to the machines? The last time I woke up feeling like this was the time I didn't get to tell experimental group 99—
Wait. Not experimental unit 99--Clone Force 99. Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo. I left Kamino, left Nala Se...
Omega's eyelids are still too heavy for her to force them open. But she can hear voices now, soft, familiar voices of her brothers who are probably waiting for her to wake up. Knowing they're with her is enough for her chest to feel less like somebody is sitting on it. Enough for her to allow herself to drift back off to sleep for a little while longer.
The next time she fades close to consciousness, Omega has enough strength to slowly open her eyes. The lights are bright making her groan a little bit as the stinging subsides. There's a rustling in the room, armor squeaking against armor. When Omega finally blinks through the fluorescent lights she opens her eyes to four hopeful faces of her brothers leaning over her.
"Oh," she croaks, managing a loopy smile. "hey guys."
Omega isn't sure what's funny about that, but all four of them start laughing. Not hard, just like... nervous almost. She presses her palms against the soft mattress of the med bay bed.
"What's so— oh! Oh! " as Omega attempts to push herself up to get a better view, her side suddenly feels like it's splitting in two. It's like the diner-- the horrible, horrible pain from the diner. She sinks back down into the mattress, her eyes screwed shut as it slowly fades. At least it's fading this time. The laughter is gone in an instant. Hunter is at her side, a firm hand pressing her shoulder down.
"Don't move, kid," he says gently. "You'll tear your stitches."
Her eyes snap open, that panic from earlier renewing tenfold. "St-stitches?" she stammers, tears she didn't know were waiting to fall suddenly streaming down her face. Omega goes to throw the blanket off to see what they're talking about, but Hunter catches her ragged movements in his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Echo is on the opposite side now, taking her other hand and rubbing soothing circles on her wrist.
This is the nicest way I've ever been restrained, Omega thinks grimly, even though the warmth and comfort of them holding her hands does make her feel better.
"Your appendix burst, Omega," Tech says. "You have had surgery to remove it, and are now in recovery receiving antibiotics, pain medications, and fluids."
Her rapid breaths only slow a little. Omega's gaze flickers between her four brothers.
"My appendix burst," she repeats in disbelief. It makes sense but... "But that's rare for clones."
Wrecker smiles nervously. "Well, you're a pretty rare clone, too, 'Mega."
There's just something about Wrecker that always seems to make Omega smile. Though she still feels that impending doom hanging over her, smiling makes her feel a little more present. She never had a reason to smile after her procedures on Kamino.
"Are you in pain?" Echo asks.
"Not anymore," she answers honestly. "Not moving seems to be a good plan, though."
A low chuckle. They relax a little bit at least.
Now that they've explained what happened to her, the murky memories of the day slowly trickle back. She started feeling bad when they were headed back to Ord Mantell. Stomach ache, nausea, chills that wouldn't go away no matter how many blankets she piled on herself. Omega being trained as a medical assistant knew she was sick, but she thought it was just that... as a medical assistant she should have known better.
"I'm sorry," she says suddenly, her tears returning. "I didn't know... I didn't want to worry—"
"You don't have to apologize," Hunter squeezes her hand again. "We're just glad you're okay. But I do hope the next time you feel bad you'll say something."
Omega felt awful. Worse than she's ever felt before. Before they left for the diner she was gearing up to tell Hunter how bad her stomach hurt, but then the pain got better for a while and she thought maybe some food would help.
Evidently, she was wrong about things getting better. They got so much worse. The pain in her side was unbearable, and when she moved to get up— she remembers her vision going white, and then everything got really foggy and hard to remember.
Then she woke up here.
"Next time I will," she promises. Hunter strokes her hair, and she sleepily leans into his hand.
"Good. Now get some rest, you have some recovering to do."
"You guys... too," she manages before the pull of sleep takes her with it. Distantly, she can hear their quiet, amused chuckles. They hold her hands until she is too asleep to feel them.
When Omega used to wake up in Nala Se's lab, she would wake up in a panic. Much like how she woke up before remembering she was on Ord Mantell with the Bad Batch. Medical centers just remind her too much of that private lab and its sterile walls and the harsh scent of disinfectant. The feeling of needles and tubes is even worse.
For the first time in her life, though, Omega wakes up in a med bay without feeling the weight of panic crushing her. It's because when she comes to, the first thing she hears is the soft snoring from all four of her big brothers. Omega can feel her hands still held in theirs— they never let go even when she fell asleep. Her heart soars in her chest at the softness of their touch. When she opens her eyes, though, she realizes Hunter and Echo actually did let go— but only to pull chairs to her bedside so they could stay there as they drifted off.
Omega suppresses a giggle looking around at all the guys. She wishes she could take a holo of this, but she's afraid to move and disturb their sleep. They need it just as much as she does.
Hunter is hunched over the mattress, his face pressed into the cradle of his arms. Echo is slouched in his chair with his feet propped up on the bed and head tilted into the wall. Wrecker found himself two chairs and is perched beside Hunter, his snoring the loudest. And Tech is fully on her bed where her feet don't reach, his long limbs folded in and curled up like a tooka.
Never has Omega felt safer in a medical center. She knows it's hard for them to be here too, so the fact they have stayed by her side like this fills her heart with this giddy warmth. She loves being part of a family. It's all she's ever wanted, and now she finally feels like she has one. Once they get Crosshair back— everything will be perfect.